THE LITTLE JEW BOY AND THE PROVOST’S DEPUTY
The Dutchman went with them to show them the way he said they must
take. His wife came in and gossiped with us.
According to her account, it was a miracle that we had passed through
the provost’s hands as well as we had.
“If de vimmins had peen dere, dey vould haf pult your close off, unt
dey vould haf search you all ofer. I ton’t know as you haf anyding you
not vant dem to see, but if you haf anyding, tey pe zhure to fint it.
Te vimmins tat haf to pe dere to-tay vas gone avay somevare. If she had
peen dere, you vas haf harter times tan you vas haf.”
I thought with a shudder of our muffs and satchels, our pictures in
Confederate uniform, and those papers.
“Mine man say some volks vas arrested town te river to-tay. Dere vas
dree laties unt von shentleman. Tey dry to cross at de Boint of Vrocks
[Point of Rocks] unt tey vas took up unt sent pack.”
“What were their names?” we asked eagerly.
We remembered that the Otis party consisted of three ladies and one
gentleman. We had kept in sight of their ambulance for some time.
But at the parting of our ways, when they had taken one road and we
another, our driver had said: “They are going to try to get across at
the Point of Rocks, and they’ll sure be turned back or took up, one.”
“I ton’t know vat dere names,” said the Dutchwoman. “Mine man vill
know. He forgets notding.”
When he came in he thought a little, and then he said he thought the
name was “Odis.” So we had been luckier than we thought in the chance
that prevented us from joining their party.
The old German had directed our friends as best he could, and
started them on their way. They were to keep to the woods and walk
to Frederick, from where, he thought, they might reach Baltimore.
He told us that they had not gone away immediately after leaving us,
although he had urged them to do so. They had said they wouldn’t go
away until they saw how we took being left alone. They had gone around
to the window of the room in which we were sitting, and had spied upon
us. When they saw us gossiping with the old woman, they had gone off
satisfied that we would not break down after their departure.
“Tey vas not so vraid vor her,” he said, indicating Milicent. “It vas
you, te leetle matam, as he call you, dat he vas vraid vor. He vraid
you vould cry pecause you vas so leetle, unt pecause you vas so ver’
younk. I ask him vat he do if you cry, unt I dry to make him come avay,
unt he say: ‘If she cry I von’t go. I vill go in tat room unt I vill
dake her up in mine arms unt I vill not stop until I put her safe in
Captain Grey’s arms! Dot is vot I vill do.’ He titn’t leaf you off,” to
Milicent, “put he dort you pe mo’ prave.”
If he had been at the window then he would have seen tears in our eyes.
But I bore a grudge.
“Milicent,” I said, as soon as we were alone, “I don’t see why people
should make of me just the exception that they always do. I may be a
little younger, but I am married, and I have got just as much sense
about some things and I’m just as brave as you are. I’m a soldier’s
wife, the wife of a Confederate officer. I wonder how I have behaved
that everybody expects _me_ to be a coward.”
And Milicent comforted me.
The next morning an orderly rapped at the door of the German’s house
and asked for us.
The German answered.
“Tell the _ladies_,” with an emphasis on the word, “the provost says
they can go on. The train leaves in fifteen minutes. They will find
their baggage at the station. Here are their keys.”
“You see it is vell tat te shentlemen tit not vait vor bermission,”
said the German as we hurried into our wraps.
We heard afterward that following our departure a sergeant-at-arms
called for the “shentlemen.” Our train was late coming in. As we stood
on the platform waiting we saw that wretched little Jew boy fooling
around and watching us. We pretended not to see him. Suddenly I felt a
tremor in Milicent’s arm which was linked in mine.
“Do you see who is on the platform talking with the little Jew boy? No,
don’t turn your head--don’t look suddenly--don’t look at all. It is the
provost’s deputy who didn’t believe in us yesterday.”
Oh, if the train would only come, and we were on it and gone! As it
rolled up beside the platform we had to restrain ourselves from getting
on it too eagerly. But we were at last in our seats; the whistle blew,
and the train moved out of the station.
The station was behind us, out of sight, and we were leaning back
enjoying ourselves, when Milicent glanced behind her. I was looking out
of the window when I felt her hand on my arm.
“Don’t look suddenly. But when you can, glance behind us.”
Three seats behind us sat the provost’s deputy. He was reading a paper,
or, rather, watching us over a paper which he held up before him. He
kept us under close observation the whole way. We had no opportunity
to consult about the difficulties of the situation, but we felt that
we were to elude our shadow in Baltimore or not at all. Carriages
stood thick around the depot. Drivers were cracking their whips and
importuning the public for patronage. We stepped off the platform into
the midst of them, got to haggling about prices, and found ourselves
mixed up in a lot of carriages, the yelling and screaming drivers
having closed up behind us around the platform to which they had turned
their attention. There we saw the deputy’s hat revolving rapidly, as if
he were turning himself about to catch sight of us. Chance stood our
friend. We happened to stand between two carriages, the doors of which
hung open. A party of two ladies stepped into one. Instantly we took
the other.
“Drive fast to No. -- Charles Street,” Milicent said to the driver.
Several carriages rolled out of the depot with our own, and before we
reached Mrs. Harris’s we felt that we had escaped the deputy. Once with
mother and Bobby we forgot him.