I MAKE UP MY MIND TO RUN THE BLOCKADE
Late one day we saw an ambulance driving up to the gate through the
pouring rain. A few minutes after, Patsy, the housemaid, came in to say
that the adjutant had sent for his wife and her sister. We supposed
that the two men with the ambulance were rough and common soldiers--one
of them, in fact, the one who had given the message to Patsy, was a
negro driver--and sent them around to the kitchen to warm and dry
themselves. Very soon Aunt Caroline, the cook and a great authority,
came in hurriedly and attacked Mrs. McGuire.
“Law, mistess! Y’all sholy orter ax one er dem men in de house. He
sholy orten ter bin sont to de kitchen. He ain’t got no bizness in de
kitchen. He’s quality. You orter ax him to come to de parlor. He specks
you gwine ter ax him to come to de parlor, case he done bresh hissef
up, and he’s puttin’ sweet grease on his har, and he say he kin play on
de orgin.”
Such accomplishments as these changed the whole situation. Aunt
Caroline was sent to fetch him. When she threw open the door and
announced him and he entered, bowing low and gracefully, we could
hardly restrain a laugh, for we had a good view of the top of his head,
and it was fairly ashine! He was Lieutenant Dimitri of New Orleans, my
husband’s courier, who had been sent as our escort. A most efficient
and agreeable one he proved.
If I had only been a young lady following my father or brother around,
how interesting these memoirs might be made, for Lieutenant Dimitri was
only one of many charming men I met. Available heroes pass through,
bow, and make their exits. And I am afraid of boring my friends with
the one hero who remains because he is my husband; consequently I keep
him as modestly as possible in the background. He had risen steadily
in rank, and I was proud of him, but I must say that my memory is less
vivid as to his deeds of gallantry than it is to what might have been
reckoned minor matters by an older woman. The greatest crosses of my
life were separation from my mother and sister, telling my husband
good-by, and beholding him in a hopelessly shabby uniform. The greatest
blessings of my life were found in the little courtesies and kindnesses
of life and in getting my husband back to me, safe and sound.
When morning came it was still raining, and the roads in such a
condition that Mr. McGuire, fearing our ambulance would break down,
opposed our going. But I knew that the men and team must return to camp
according to orders, so we started off in spite of the weather and Mr.
McGuire’s protest.
We had not gone far when our driver was halted by a vidette who barred
the way.
“Is Adjutant Grey’s wife in the ambulance?”
“Yessuh.”
“Turn back. Smallpox ahead.”
The driver turned another road. It was only a short distance before we
were halted again.
“Adjutant Grey’s wife in the ambulance?”
“Yessuh, she sho is.”
“Turn around. Smallpox this way.”
“Lord! how _is_ I ter go?” groaned the driver.
At the next fork the driver paused with a look of utter distraction.
“I don’t kyeer whicherway we go, dar’ll be smallpox in de road sayin’
we can’t go datter way.” And he drove recklessly on the way the mules
seemed to prefer. The mules struck it.
A vidette halted us again, but it was to say that we were traveling in
the right direction and to give minute directions for the rest of our
journey. There was a village and its neighborhood to be avoided, and we
had to make a wide detour before the driver put us down, according to
orders, at Mr. Wright’s.
Dan came in quite soon, looking as shabby as one of his own orderlies,
but glad enough to see me. For some time here I was in a fool’s
paradise in spite of the war and the fact that mother was far away in
Baltimore, ignorant of what might be happening to us, for camp was
very near, there were no active hostilities, and Dan came to see me
every day.
Then the cavalry received marching orders. The night after I heard
it I determined to tell Dan of a decision I had come to. Milicent
had not spoken, but I knew the drift of her thoughts and purposes.
We had not heard once from mother and Bobby since she left them in
Baltimore. Milicent was going to them, and I had made up my mind to
go with her. There was no return to Baltimore by flag of truce; the
only way to get there was to run the blockade, a most dangerous and
doubtful undertaking at this period of the war. But Milicent’s boy was
in Baltimore, and mother was there. She had come to me; she would go to
them, and I intended to go with her.
My heart was set on seeing mother. To be left alone now by both
Milicent and Dan would drive me crazy; for Milicent to run the blockade
alone would serve me as ill. Besides, I wanted some things for myself,
some pins and needles, and nice shoes and pocket handkerchiefs and
a new hat and a new cloak, and I wanted a new uniform for Dan. Dan
had had no new uniform since his first promotion, a long time ago.
He was an officer of high rank, and he was still wearing his old
private’s uniform. He had traveled through rain and snow and mud,
and had slept on the ground and fought battles in it. Though I had
many times cleaned that uniform, darned it, patched it, turned it,
scoured it, done everything that was possible to rejuvenate it, my
shabby-looking soldier was a continual reproach to me. When Dan would
come to see me I used to make him wrap up in a sheet or blanket while
I worked away on his clothes with needle and thread, soap and water
and smoothing irons. I was ready to run the blockade for a new uniform
for Dan if for nothing else, but to tell him that I was going to run
the blockade--there was the rub! Evening came and Dan with it, and the
telling had to be done somehow.
“Dan,” I began, patting the various patches on his shabby knee, “I want
you to have a new uniform.”
“Wish me a harp and a crown, Nell! One’s about as easy as the other.
You’ll have to take it out in wanting, my girl.”
“I expect I could buy Confederate cloth in Baltimore.”
“Maybe--if you were there.”
“Dan, I think I’ll slip across the border and buy you a Confederate
uniform, gold lace and all, from a Yankee tradesman, and then slip back
here with it, and behold you in all the glory of it. Wouldn’t that be
nice, Dan?”
“Rather!”
Dan took in his patches at a glance, perhaps by way of mental
comparison between himself in this and himself in the imaginary new
uniform. But I saw he did not understand me at all--I had to make
things plain.
“Dan,” I said, “I am going to Baltimore.”
“What?” he thundered.
“I am going to run the blockade with Millie.”
“Have you lost your senses?”
“No, Dan. But I’m going to run the blockade with Millie--to get you a
new uniform.”
“Nell, don’t be a goose!”
“And some shirts and some socks and some pins and needles--and I want
to see mother--and Bobby--and--I’m going.”
“I’m not going to allow you to attempt such a thing!” he said gravely.
“I want to see mother--and to get a new uniform--and other things.”
Dan looked at me as if he thought I was crazy.
“Milicent is going--and I think I ought to go with her.”
“I don’t want Millie to go--I don’t think she ought to try it; and I
won’t permit you to go off on such a wild-goose chase.”
I was silent a minute, trying to think how to tell him as respectfully
as I could that I differed with him on this point. It all ended by my
repeating in a stupid, poll-parrot fashion:
“I’m going with Millie to Baltimore.”
Dan looked at me as if he would like to spank me! Here was his
obedient, docile girl-bride blossomed into a contumacious, rebellious
wife!
I was ready to cry--nay, I was crying--but I still affirmed that I
must go to Baltimore. Dan reasoned and argued, but that didn’t do
any good. Then he swore, but swearing didn’t alter the case. The
case was, indeed, beyond Dan, but he made a long and hard fight, and
didn’t surrender for a long while. I cried all night, and he reasoned
all night. When he saw that the case was hopeless, he started us to
Petersburg under suitable escort. We had to go first to Petersburg in
order to get the money which we wished to take North to exchange for
all the goods and chattels we might be able to smuggle South.
Dan detailed a driver and an ambulance for our service and Lieutenant
Johnston to act as escort. The morning we started it looked cloudy. Dan
tried to dissuade us. I said I had always been a good weather prophet
and I didn’t think it would rain. Millie reinforced me.
But when it actually came to telling Dan good-by, I broke down. His
threadbare clothes plead with me both ways. I hung around his neck and
did so much crying that he got sorry for me and helped me off.
“When I get you a new uniform, Dan--” I sobbed, as he tucked the old
blanket shawl about me where I sat in the ambulance.
“Uniform be ----!” growled Dan. Then, seeing my crestfallen look, “I
reckon I’ll like it well enough, Nell--when it comes. Good-by, girls.
You’re mighty big geese. God bless you! If you change your minds in
Petersburg--but, Lord! an earthquake wouldn’t change you! Good-by, my
darling--God bless you! I reckon you’ll get along all right.”
The rusty coat-sleeve was out of sight, and I was on my way.