SIX months rolled by-six memorable months, that sadly blasted a
nation's hopes, and overturned the plans and purposes of countless
individuals. The war-cloud had darkened and deepened, till the sky
of many a happy home was already obscured by its fearful gloom. At
the first bugle-note of conflict, a peaceful, happy people was
transformed, as if by magic, into a warlike host. The war-tide
rushed on with an impetuosity that bore all things before it.
Willing or unwilling, men must be soldiers. Cities, towns, and
villages were astir with excitement. Forgetting the ordinary
interests of life, people talked enthusiastically, madly, of war.
Months ago had the accustomed serenity of the Queen City given place
to noisy military life. Its by-ways and suburbs were dotted with
tents, the phantom homes of soldiers. Men who yesterday were
gentlemen, were to-day only vassals, whose existence was marked by
the morning r‚veille and the evening tattoo. The drilling, drilling,
drilling, still hourly went on; but not that peaceful exercise the
inhabitants had been wont to observe in Citadel Square in days
agone. Marching, guarding, countermarching, watching, were the order
of the day. Some hearts were wild with enthusiasm, others dark with
despair. Already the tide of brothers' blood had crimsoned the sod
of more than one State. Blood, blood, was flowing-crimson blood,
that might have been a libation to a nobler, holier cause.
Old Defiance, standing dark and warlike in the harbor of the Queen
City, had now a new commander. The guns, as usual, turned their
deadly mouths to the open sea, but the gunners and the commander did
not wear the uniform of the old troops once garrisoned there. George
Marshall, impelled by the love of State, and moved by the
importunities of friends, had accepted the position of commander at
Defiance, and was now Colonel instead of Captain Marshall. With
regret, with tears even, he folded away the regimentals of the old
army, and said with a sigh, as he laid them out of sight, "I shall
never need them again." Blame him, if you dare, you who have never
stood the test of such a trial. Censure him for a traitor, if you
must, you that have only dallied on the outskirts of your country's
danger. In that book on high, thank God, angels read his record
aright.
"George," said Eliza one morning to her husband, in a soft October
day, as he was about leaving her for the fort, "I am sorry you ever
took command of Defiance. I have always had a strange horror of that
monster of the sea. I hate to think of your being there."
"Well, you are foolish in that fear, my love. It's much better for
you than if I were in the field. If I were at the head of a
regiment, I should be ordered here and there, Fate only knows where,
and maybe not see you for months, perhaps years. When you become
more acquainted with the old fortress, my dear, you will cease to
regard it with such terror."
"Maybe I shall, George, but I fear not. It stands like some terrible
apparition, ever before me, waking or sleeping," she replied, half
sadly, half fearfully. "Oh! this terrible war! It has begun, but it
is not yet ended," she added with a shudder.
"You must be more hopeful; your words are not encouraging to a
soldier-husband. Come, cheer up, and go with me over to the fortress
this evening. What do you say? Go, and beard the lion in his den, as
it were."
"I shall be most happy to do so, if it will tend to dispel my
prejudice, or rather, my dread of the place. At what hour?"
"At six P. M. precisely, the Sea-Foam leaves pier number three for
the fort. I'll return in time for us to leave at that hour. Be
ready. Adieu. I must hasten!" He kissed her, and was gone.
When Eliza was once again alone in her quiet chamber, the skilful
fingers were busy with her work, and the perplexed brain was busy
with its thoughts. At length she said, half audibly, "I may be
foolish. God only knows how dreadfully I feel about this wretched
war."
At the appointed time George Marshall returned, to find his wife
awaiting him; and without delay they sought the Sea-Foam's pier. As
the young colonel walked beside his wife, so modestly yet becomingly
attired in simple white muslin, with a blue scarf round her
faultless figure, he thought her a paragon of beauty, and passed on
in silent admiration, till the pier was reached.
"What does this embarkation recall to your mind, George?" said the
young wife pleasantly, as her husband seated himself beside her on
the deck of the Sea-Foam.
"Nothing in particular, that I remember. What is it?"
"Oh, I was vain enough to suppose it might recall to you an occasion
that has ever been memorable to me," she replied archly. But I see
you have forgotten that sunny June evening, five years ago, when I
embarked, from this very pier-embarked, leaving you behind, and
thinking I should never see you again."
"Oh, forgive my want of memory and sentimentality. The war has
well-nigh crushed the latter out of my nature. I thank God though,
that we have now embarked together on the ocean of life, with no
fear of separation, and with the hope, too, that storms, if they
come, may not wreck our bark. Isn't the sea lovely? And how
delicious the breeze!"
"Yes, the flags float airily; but the fort, though seemingly so
near, is yet quite far away. How deceptive is water!" The boat sped
on toward the fortress like a feather on the breeze.
"Here we come," said the colonel, "nearer, nearer, nearer, to the
huge pile of sea-washed brick and mortar; nearer to your dreaded
enemy, my love; slower, slower, slower, to the land. Here we are!"
And the Sea-Foam safely cast her anchor once again.