VICTORY
Betty had found the President at the War Telegraph office in the old
Army and Navy building. He was seated at the desk by the window where in
1862 he had written his first draft of his Emancipation Proclamation on
pieces of pasteboard.
"You have heard nothing yet from General Sherman?" she asked
pathetically.
"Nothing, child."
"And no message of any kind from John Vaughan since he left!" she
exclaimed hopelessly.
"But I'm sure, remember, sure to a moral certainty--that he reached
Richmond safely and left there safely."
"How do you know?"
"Gilmore has just arrived with his reply from Jefferson Davis. It will
be worth a half million votes for us. From his description of the
'reporter' with Benjamin I am sure it was our messenger."
"But you don't know--you don't know!" Betty sighed.
The President bent and touched her shoulder gently:
"Come, dear, it's not like you to despair----"
The girl smiled wanly.
"How long since any message arrived from General Sherman?"
"Three days, my child. I know the hole he went in at, but I can't tell
where he's going to come out----"
"If he ever comes out," Betty broke in bitterly.
"Oh, he'll come out somewhere!" the President laughed. "It's a habit of
his. I've watched him for months--sometimes I can't hear from him for a
week--but he always bobs up again and comes out with a whoop, too----"
"But we've no news!" she interrupted.
"No news has always been good news from Sherman----"
He paused and looked at his watch:
"Wait here. I'll be back in a few moments. We're bound to hear something
to-day. I've an engagement with my Committee of Undertakers. They are
waiting for me to deliver my corpse to them--and they are very restless
about it because I haven't given up sooner, I'm full of foolish hopes.
I'm going to adjourn them until we can get a message of some kind----"
He returned in half an hour and sat in silence for a long time listening
to the steady, sharp click of the telegraph keys.
Betty was too blue to talk--too heartsick to move.
At last the tall figure rose and walked back among the operators. They
knew that he was waiting for the magic call, "Atlanta, Georgia." It had
been three years and more since that heading for a message had flashed
over their wires. Every ear was keen to catch it.
The President bent over the table of Southern wires and silently
watched:
"You can't strain a little message through for me, can you, my boy?"
The operator smiled:
"I wish I could, sir."
The President returned to the front room and shook his head to Betty:
"Nothing."
"He entered Atlanta a spy, didn't he?" she said despairingly.
"Yes--of course."
"They couldn't execute him without our knowing it, could they?"
"If they trap him--yes--but he's a very intelligent young man. He'll be
too smart for them. I feel it. I know it----"
He stopped and looked at her quizzically:
"I've a sort of second sight that tells me such things. I saw General
Sickles in the hospital after Gettysburg. They said he couldn't live. I
told him he would get well and he did."
Again the President returned restlessly to the operator's room and Betty
followed him to the door. He waited a long time in silence, shook his
head and turned away. He had almost reached the door when suddenly the
operator sprang to his feet livid with excitement:
"Wait--Mr. President!--It's come--my God, it's here!"
Every operator was on his feet listening in breathless excitement to the
click of that Southern wire.
The President had rushed back to the table.
"It's for you, sir!"
"Read it then--out with it as you take it!" he cried.
"Atlanta, Georgia, September 3rd, 1864."
"Glory to God!" the President shouted.
"Atlanta is ours and fairly won. W. T. Sherman."
"O my soul, lift up thy head!" the sorrowful lips shouted. "Unto thee, O
God, we give all the praise now and forever more!"
He seated himself and quickly wrote his thanks and congratulations:
"EXECUTIVE MANSION,
"WASHINGTON, D. C.
"September 3, 1864.
"The National thanks are rendered by the President to Major General
W. T. Sherman and the gallant officers and soldiers of his command
before Atlanta, for the distinguished ability and perseverance
displayed in the campaign in Georgia, which under Divine favor has
resulted in the capture of Atlanta. The marches, battles and sieges
that have signalized this campaign must render it famous in the
annals of war, and have entitled you to the applause and thanks of
the Nation.
"ABRAHAM LINCOLN,
"_President of the United States_."
His sombre eyes flamed with a new light. He took the copy of his message
from Sherman and started to the White House with long, swift strides.
Betty greeted him outside with tearful joy still mixed with deep
anxiety.
"You have no word from him, of course?"
"Not yet, child, but it will come--cheer up--it's sure to come. You see
that he reached Atlanta and delivered my message!"
"We are not sure. The city may have fallen, anyhow----"
"Yes, yes, but it didn't just fall, anyhow. Sherman took it. He got my
message. I know it. I felt it flash through the air from his soul to
mine!"
His faith and enthusiasm were contagious and Betty returned home with
new hope.
In half an hour the Committee who were waiting for his resignation from
the National Republican ticket filed into his office to receive as they
supposed his final surrender.
The Chairman rose with doleful countenance:
"Since leaving you, Mr. President, we have just heard a most painful and
startling announcement from the War Department. We begged you to
withhold the new draft for five hundred thousand men until after the
election. Halleck informs us of the discovery of a great combination to
resist it by armed force and General Grant must detach a part of his
army from Lee's front in order to put down this counter revolution. This
is the blackest news yet. We trust that you realize the impossibility of
your administration asking for indorsement at the polls----"
With a sign of final resignation he sat down and the tall, dark figure
rose with quick, nervous energy.
"I, too, have received important news since I saw you an hour ago."
He held the telegram above his head:
"I'll read it to you without my glasses. I know it by heart. I have just
learned that my administration will be indorsed by an overwhelming
majority, that the defeat of George B. McClellan and his platform of
failure is a certainty. The war to preserve the Union is a success. The
sword has been driven into the heart of the Confederacy. Sherman has
captured Atlanta--the Union is saved!"
The Committee leaped to their feet with a shout of applause and crowded
around him to congratulate and praise the man they came to bury. There
was no longer a question of his resignation. The fall of Atlanta would
thrill the North. A wave of wild enthusiasm would sweep into the sea the
last trace of gloom and despair. They were practical men--else, as rats,
they would never have tried to desert their own ship. They knew that the
tide was going to turn, but it was a swift tide that could turn before
they could!
They wrung the President's hands, they shouted his praise, they had
always gloried in his administration, but foolish grumblers hadn't been
able to see things as they saw them--hence this hue and cry! They
congratulated him on his certain triumph and the President watched them
go with a quiet smile. He was too big to cherish resentments. He only
pitied small men, he never hated them.