TIME stole along. Many months had slipped into the past since the
day of the lamented Colonel Marshall's death-months of which this
narrative has little to record, save that they were months of blood.
Returning to the desolate wife, left by an adverse fate alone in her
Cuban home, we find her sadly changed. As sudden and unexpected as
had been the separation of Emile from his family, so shocking and
violent had been the affect of this trouble upon Leah's delicate
nature. From the hour when Mr. Gardner informed her of her husband's
mysterious disappearance, Leah sank down, overwhelmed with grief.
Then for many weeks she lingered through an almost hopeless illness,
to recover at length and find herself still alone.
The hope of gaining strength to follow her husband was the one hope
that cheered her hours of convalescence, and stimulated the efforts
of nature in the work of recovery. At last, time brought relief, and
after many months of weary waiting, hoping, watching, the
opportunity was at hand for Leah to start in pursuit of her husband.
Committed to the care of a kind-hearted man, himself the captain of
a blockade-runner, the anxious wife hoped to reach the shores of her
native State in safety. Unlike the treacherous Joe Haralson, the
captain of the Cotton States, the vessel upon which Leah embarked,
was not familiar with the sea-coast of many of the blockaded States;
but, urged by her importunities, the kind captain determined, if
possible, to land her in safety upon the coast of her native State.
In this attempt, however, he was disappointed. It was late one
afternoon as the Cotton States was about to anchor safely in an
obscure harbor of a small island near the main-land, when the
captain discovered, far off on the sea, the dark form of a pursuing
gun-boat. Immediately he put to sea, and fortunately, the gathering
shades of night obscured the pursued vessel in time to prevent
capture. The next day, the Cotton States ran ashore on a lone,
sparsely inhabited coast, and, anchored at Sandy Bar, a place known
to but few as a possible port of entry.
In this obscure port of entry, the Cotton States was the only vessel
that had ever cast anchor. Here, erected on the shore, was a rude,
commodious warehouse, built by the speculators who owned this
adventurous craft, and designed for the reception of the cotton that
was taken out and the cargoes that were brought in by it. The care
of this depot of supplies and unlawful merchandise was committed to
a rather decrepit, but trustworthy old man, called familiarly "Uncle
Jack Marner." In a rude hut, near by this cache above ground, lived
old Uncle Jack and his wife. Scipio, a trusty negro, was also
employed by the company to assist Uncle Jack in watching the depot,
and was usually detailed to inform the owners of the vessel as soon
as a cargo was landed. In this obscure harbor-the White Sandy Bar,
as it was known to Uncle Jack, the captain, and the company-the
Cotton States was anchored and ready to deposit her cargo.
"Madam," said the captain to Leah, "I have done the best I could. I
tried to land you nearer your home, but could not; I trust you will
bear me no ill-will."
"I can never forget your kindness, sir; once on land, no matter how
far from the Queen City, I know I can find my way there. I feel
assured my husband is there, if living, and thither I shall go at
once."
"Not alone?"
"Oh, yes; alone, if necessary."
"Don't you fear the scouts and straggling soldiers that so infest
the land?"
"I fear nothing, captain. I am in search of my husband, and I shall
seek him, though I perish in the effort."
"Well, madam, I shall intrust you to the care of Uncle Jack Marner,
and go away again knowing that you will be well cared for. There's
the old man, and Scipio, at work with the hands unloading. I'll take
you to his hut."
Leah thanked him kindly, and taking her child in his arms, the
captain led the way to the humble home of Uncle Jack, and introduced
Leah to his wife.
Without delay the Cotton States unloaded; loaded again; and was soon
once more out at sea in safety.
"It's a mighty weakly lookin' child, madam," said kind Uncle Jack,
when he returned to the hut, after the work on the ship was ended.
"Is the little creetur sick?"
"No; but she is not very strong, Uncle Jack," was Leah's reply.
"Teethin', maybe? Teethin' ginerally goes hard with the little
ones."
"Yes," Leah answered, "teething has made her delicate."
"La, chile, the cap'n tells me you are bound for the Queen City;
ain't you afeerd to go thar now, sich a power of shellin' goin' on
thar?" And without waiting for a response, he continued, "I think,
though, the war-dogs are gittin' tired, and will soon haul off. It's
no use tryin' to shell and batter down that fine old city. She never
was made to surrender to any furrin' power; and surrender she never
will. I'll bet on that. But, my chile, I should be afeerd to go thar
now, strong and supple a man as I am, much less a poor, weakly
lookin' woman like yerself."
"No, Uncle Jack, I am not afraid. The soldiers would not molest me,
and the shells cannot strike me, so I go undaunted. I am seeking my
husband, and must find him. How far is it, Uncle Jack, to the Queen
City?"
"More'n a hundred mile, chile."
"Can I obtain any conveyance about here to take me part of the way,
at least?"
"Chile, thar's not a critter in twenty miles of this place, as I
knows on. Nobody lives hereabouts, but me an' the old woman, and
Scipio and Toby-that's the company's mule, you know; and Scipio
rides Toby to --, when the vessel gits in safe, to tell the company.
Scipio must start to-morrow to let the company know the boat is in
agin, and when he gits back I'll take you part of the way to the
Queen City. You kin ride Toby and I kin walk. I tole the cap'n I'd
see you on your way as far as I could."
"When will Scipio return?" inquired Leah timidly.
"Mebbe in a week, mebbe sooner."
"Oh! I cannot stay here a week. I cannot stay a day. I am so
impatient to get on. If my husband is living, I must reach him."
"But how can you go, chile?"
"Go alone, Uncle Jack. I assure you I am not afraid."
By Jupiter! Jack Marner let a weakly lookin' woman like you start
alone from his house, with no strong arm to pertect you? Never,
never, never!" exclaimed the kind old man with emphasis, as he shook
his gray locks.
"But there is no one to go with me, Uncle Jack; and as I cannot
tarry, I must go alone. I assure you I fear nothing."
The old man continued to shake his head, though he made no reply;
and then, handing little Sarah to her mother, he went out of the
cabin for some wood, that was needed to prepare the evening meal.
Night passed, and morning came soft and bright; and Leah, refreshed
from her slumber, expressed the determination to pursue her journey
at once.
"If you will go, the Lord go with you, chile; but I fears you will
never git thar. Twenty miles from here, you may find lodgings, and
you may not; what then?"
"Oh, I can take care of that; only give me the proper directions, if
you can."
"Keep nigh the coast as possible, an' if nothin' devours you, you'll
find the Queen City after awhile; but it's more'n a hundred mile,
remember. I hate to see you go, I do."
"Do not detain me, Uncle Jack. I cannot, must not stay."
"Well, if go you must and will, I'll go with you till we reach the
open road; but I say again, you are welcome to stay here in my
cabin, if you will. It's humble, I know, but old Jack Marner has had
a sight better home than this, in his day. Yet I thank the Lord I
have this one left;" and the old man brushed away a tear with his
trembling hand, as he assisted the old woman in preparing some food
for Leah's lonely journey. At an early hour they were ready to
start. Uncle Jack took little Sarah in his arms, and Leah bade adieu
to the kind old wife, and following Uncle Jack, stepped out upon the
sandy beach and turned her face toward the far-off, hidden road.
For an hour or more, the pedestrians trudged slowly along, Uncle
Jack endeavoring the while to amuse the child in his arms, who would
ever and anon stretch out its little arms and cry, "Mamma." With
downcast eye and heart, Leah moved steadily forward, heeding
nothing, save the occasional cry of her child. Uncle Jack, as he
walked along, had broken a green bough from a swamp-myrtle, and
gathered a spray of blue winter berries, which he bound together as
a nosegay for the child. With these he charmed its baby fancy, and
foiled every endeavor to reach its mother's arms. At length the
trail was ended, and the open road reached.
"Now," said Uncle Jack, "we are here at last. This is the road that
leads to Sheltonville, the only place that lies in your way to the
Queen City. Keep it straight, chile, an' mebbe you'll reach thar at
last; mebbe not; I don't know. Here, let's rest a minit under this
water-oak. Sit down on the log; I'll warrant there's no snakes under
it."
Leah slightly smiled as she obeyed this command, and sat down on the
crumbling, moss-grown wood, saying:
"Uncle Jack, are there any rivers in my way to the Queen City?"
"None, chile, but the Little Black, and you kin cross that at
Sheltonville. It's a wonder those dev'lish soldiers hain't destroyed
the bridge, 'fore this; but they hadn't, the last I heered from
Sheltonville."
"Oh, I can get across, I guess," replied Leah cheerfully. "Rivers,
nor mountains either, can keep me from my husband now. If he is in
the city, I shall find him." Here little Sarah began to cry, and
show signs of weariness. In vain Uncle Jack flourished the wild
nosegay, whistled, sang, chirruped; the little creature would find
lodgment in its mother's arms, and sleep on her faithful bosom.
The sun was getting toward the half-way morning hour, when the
little child awoke, and clinging around her mother's neck she
cunningly averted her face from Uncle Jack, as if to say, "You shall
not have me again. I am tired of your wild nosegay."
"Well now," said Uncle Jack, "the little creetur is awake agin, and
as spry as a cricket. Come to Uncle Jack, won't ye?"
"I must be going," said Leah. "It's getting late." And rising with
the child in her arms, she drew the small bundle of food and
clothing that she carried closer to her, and said, "I am ready.
Good-by. Keep straight ahead, must I?"
"Yes, chile," replied Uncle Jack in a tremulous voice, "straight
ahead, and the good Lord be with ye."
Leah was gone. She followed the sandy road pointed out by Uncle
Jack's trembling finger, followed it till a small morass, thick with
swamp-growth, hid her from his view; and then the old man said, as
he turned sorrowfully back toward his cabin, "Poor chile, she seems
to have a lot o' trouble in this troublesome world. And she's so
young and purty, too. I thank the Lord there's a world up
yonder"--and he cast his tear-dimmed eyes above--"where no more
trouble will never come; an' may ole Jack Marner be lucky enough to
git thar."
For ten long, weary days, Leah pursued the way that lay straight and
unobstructed before her, every step bringing her nearer and nearer
to the city of her childhood. Scarcely able, much of the time, to
obtain food by day, or lodging by night, still she undauntedly
pursued her way, and kept her eyes straight forward toward the end.
Foraging parties, and straggling soldiers, passed occasionally, yet
not one syllable of disrespect or insult was offered to the lonely
woman as she passed along, the living impersonation of unfriended
helplessness.
At length, in pain, in weariness, in tears, the journey was almost
accomplished, and the evening of the tenth day was closing in. The
stars were stealing, one by one, into the blue heavens above, and
the bright lights of a hundred camp-fires, far and near, announced
the welcome fact that the Queen City was near at hand. The stray
shot, too, of some vigilant sentinel, reminded her that, without
passports, one could not easily find ingress to the once peaceful,
hospitable city. As this thought came, Leah trembled; but she passed
forward undaunted to the dreaded sentry line that stretched itself
across her pathway. She was too weary to weep, too bewildered to
think, too anxious to do aught but look forward toward the advancing
city, with its myriad lights, and then down again at the innocent
child asleep on her bosom. Upon the breeze that came to greet her,
as if in kindly welcome, she caught the note of the old familiar
music of the chimes of St. Angelo. "Home, Sweet Home" rang out upon
her weary ear with all the sweetness and familiarity of by-gone
days.
"How changed is everything here; and, alas! how changed am I," said
she; and tottering beneath the burden of her child and the awakened
weight of memories, she would have fallen exhausted to the earth,
but for a sharp, ringing voice, that said:
"Halt! Who comes there?"
Recalled to a sense of her true situation by this unexpected
inquiry, Leah summoned the remnant of her strength and courage, and
replied, "Only a woman, weak and tired. In heaven's name let me
pass."
"Advance, and give the countersign."
"I cannot! indeed I cannot! But in mercy's name, give me rest and
food within the City this night," she replied with a despairing
voice.
"Whence do you come?"
"From Sandy Bar, some hundred miles away, and I have walked the
whole distance. I bring you no ill, or good news. I am nothing but a
poor, helpless woman, faint and famishing. I pray you, in the name
of pity, let me pass, kind sentinel."
Touched by these imploring words, the sentry looked furtively around
him, and replied softly, "Woman, be quick. Go on; and mind, if you
say that I passed you without the countersign, my head will pay the
forfeit. Go on, for Tom Marbray hasn't the heart to say no to such a
looking woman as you are."
"God bless you!" murmured Leah; "bless you a thousand-fold;" and she
hurried forward, and was soon lost in the winding streets of the
city, that was now overshadowed by the darkness of night.
Once more within the familiar limits of the old city, she paused,
and leaning against the angle of a shop, looked curiously about her,
as if endeavoring to define certain localities. At length she said
softly:
"Yes, I see the Citadel, and Christ Church spire. But I must rest.
I'll enter yonder inn." She stepped forward toward a shabby looking
tavern a few doors off, where a crowd of garrulous soldiers were
grouped about the door. Too weary to observe any one, Leah staggered
into the forlorn, miserably furnished reception-room of the Good
Cheer House, and called for food and lodging for herself and child
for the night.