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WARING'S PERIL.
BY
CAPT. CHARLES KING,
U. S. ARMY,
AUTHOR OF "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER," "FOES IN AMBUSH," "AN ARMY PORTIA,"
"TWO SOLDIERS," "A SOLDIER'S SECRET," ETC.
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
1894.
COPYRIGHT, 1893,
BY
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA.
WARING'S PERIL.
CHAPTER I.
"Ananias!"
"Ye-as, suh?"
"What time is it?"
"Gyahd-mountin' done gone, suh."
"The devil it has! What do you mean, sir, by allowing me to sleep on in
this shameless and unconscionable manner, when an indulgent government
is suffering for my services? What sort of day is it, sir?"
"Beautiful day, Mr. Waring."
"Then go at once to Mr. Larkin and tell him he can't wear his new silk
hat this morning,--I want it, and you fetch it. Don't allow him to ring
in the old one on you. Tell him I mean the new 'spring style' he just
brought from New York. Tell Mr. Ferry I want that new Hatfield suit of
his, and you get Mr. Pierce's silk umbrella; then come back here and
get my bath and my coffee. Stop there, Ananias! Give my pious regards
to the commanding officer, sir, and tell him that there's no drill for
'X' Battery this morning, as I'm to breakfast at Moreau's at eleven
o'clock and go to the _matinée_ afterwards."
"Beg pahdon, suh, but de cunnle's done ohdered review fo' de whole
command, suh, right at nine o'clock."
"So much the better. Then Captain Cram must stay, and won't need his
swell team. Go right down to the stable and tell Jeffers I'll drive at
nine-thirty."
"But----"
"No buts, you incorrigible rascal! I don't pay you a princely salary to
raise obstacles. I don't pay you at all, sir, except at rare intervals
and in moments of mental decrepitude. Go at once! Allez! Chassez!
Skoot!"
"But, lieutenant," says Ananias, his black face shining, his even white
teeth all agleam, "Captain Cram stopped in on de way back from stables
to say Glenco 'd sprained his foot and you was to ride de bay colt.
_Please_ get up, suh. Boots and Saddles 'll soun' in ten minutes."
"It won't, but if it does I'll brain the bugler. Tell him so. Tell
Captain Cram he's entirely mistaken: I won't ride the bay colt--nor
Glenco. I'm going driving, sir, with Captain Cram's own team and
road-wagon. Tell _him_ so. Going in forty-five minutes by my watch.
Where is it, sir?"
"It ain't back from de jeweller's, suh, where you done lef' it day
before yist'day; but his boy's hyuh now, suh, wid de bill for las' year.
What shall I tell him?"
"Tell him to go to--quarantine. No! Tell him the fever has broken out
here again, sir, and not to call until ten o'clock next spring,--next
mainspring they put in that watch. Go and get Mr. Merton's watch. Tell
him I'll be sure to overstay in town if he doesn't send it, and then I
can't take him up and introduce him to those ladies from Louisville
to-morrow. Impress that on him, sir, unless he's gone and left it on his
bureau, in which case impress the watch,--the watch, sir, in any case.
No! Stop again, Ananias; _not_ in any case, only in the gold
hunting-case; no other. Now then, vanish!"
"But, lieutenant, 'fo' Gawd, suh, dey'll put you in arrest if you cuts
drill dis time. Cunnle Braxton says to Captain Cram only two days ago,
suh, dat----"
But here a white arm shot out from a canopy of mosquito-netting, and
first a boot-jack, then a slipper, then a heavy top-boot, came whizzing
past the darky's dodging head, and, finding expostulation vain, that
faithful servitor bolted out in search of some ally more potent, and
found one, though not the one he sought or desired, just entering the
adjoining room.
A big fellow, too,--too big, in fact, to be seen wearing, as was the
fashion in the sixties, the shell jacket of the light artillery. He had
a full round body, and a full round ruddy face, and a little round
visorless cap cocked on one side of a round bullet head, not very full
of brains, perhaps, yet reputed to be fairly stocked with what is termed
"horse sense." His bulky legs were thrust deep in long boots, and
ornamented, so far as the skin-tight breeches of sky-blue were
concerned, with a scarlet welt along the seam, a welt that his comrades
were wont to say would make a white mark on his nose, so red and bulbous
was that organ. He came noisily in from the broad veranda overlooking
the parade-ground, glanced about on the disarray of the bachelor
sitting-room, then whirled on Ananias.
"Mr. Waring dressed?"
"No-o, suh; jus' woke up, suh; ain't out o' bed yit."
"The lazy vagabond! Just let me get at him a minute," said the big man,
tramping over to the door-way as though bent on invading the chamber
beyond. But Ananias had halted short at sight of the intruder, and stood
there resolutely barring the way.
"Beg pahdon, lieutenant, but Mr. Waring ain't had his bath yit. Can I
mix de lieutenant a cocktail, suh?"
"Can you? You black imp of Satan, why isn't it ready now, sir? Sure you
could have seen I was as dhry as a lime-kiln from the time I came
through the gate. Hware's the demijohn, you villain?"
"Bein' refilled, suh, down to de sto', but dar's a little on de
sideboa'd, suh," answered Ananias, edging over thither now that he had
lured the invader away from the guarded door-way. "Take it straight,
suh, o' wid bitters--o' toddy?"
"Faith, I'll answer ye as Pat did the parson: I'll take it straight
now, and then be drinkin' the toddy while your honor is mixin' the
punch. Give me hold of it, you smudge! and tell your masther it's
review,--full dress,--and it's time for him to be up. Has he had his two
cocktails yet?"
"The lieutenant doesn't care fo' any dis mawnin', suh. I'll fetch him
his coffee in a minute. Did you see de cunnle's oade'ly, suh? He was
lookin' fo' you a moment ago."
The big red man was gulping down a big drink of the fiery liquor at the
instant. He set the glass back on the sideboard with unsteady hand and
glared at Ananias suspiciously.
"Is it troot' you're tellin', nigger? Hwat did he say was wanted?"
"Didn't say, suh, but de cunnle's in his office. Yawnduh comes de
oade'ly, too, suh; guess he must have hyuhd you was over hyuh."
The result of this announcement was not unexpected. The big man made a
leap for the chamber door, only to find it slammed in his face from the
other side.
"Hwat the devil's the matter with your master this morning,
Ananias?--Waring! Waring, I say! Let me in: the K. O.'s orderly is
afther me, and all on account of your bringing me in at that hour last
night.--Tell him I've gone, Ananias.--Let me in, Waring, there's a good
fellow."
"Go to blazes, Doyle!" is the unfeeling answer from the other side. "I'm
bathing." And a vigorous splashing follows the announcement.
"For the Lord's sake, Waring, let me in. Sure I can't see the colonel
now. If I could stand him off until review and inspection's over and
he's had his dhrink, he'd let the whole thing drop; but that blackguard
of a sinthry has given us away. Sure I told you he would."
"Then slide down the lightning-rod! Fly up the chimney! Evaporate! Dry
up and blow away, but get _out_! You can't come in here."
"Oh, for mercy's sake, Waring! Sure 'twas you that got me into the
scrape. You know that I was dhrunk when you found me up the levee. You
made me come down when I didn't want to. Hwat did I say to the man last
night, anyhow?"
"Say to him? Poor devil! why, you never can remember after you're drunk
what you've been doing the night before. Some time it'll be the death
of you. You abused him like a pickpocket,--the sergeant of the guard and
everybody connected with it."
"Oh, murther, murther, murther!" groaned the poor Irishman, sitting down
and covering his face with his hands. "Sure they'll court-martial me
this time without fail, and I know it. For God's sake, Waring, can't ye
let a fellow in and say that I'm not here?"
"Hyuh, dis way, lieutenant," whispered Ananias, mysteriously. "Slip out
on de po'ch and into Mr. Pierce's room. I'll tell you when he's gone."
And in a moment the huge bulk of the senior lieutenant of Light Battery
"X" was being boosted through a window opening from the gallery into the
bachelor den of the junior second lieutenant. No sooner was this done
than the negro servant darted back, closed and bolted the long green
Venetian blinds behind him, tiptoed to the bedroom door, and, softly
tapping, called,--
"Mr. Waring! Mr. Waring! get dressed quick as you can, suh; I'll lay out
your uniform in hyuh."
"I tell you, Ananias, I'm going to town, sir; not to any ridiculous
review. Go and get what I ordered you. See that I'm properly dressed,
sir, or I'll discharge you. Confound you, sir! there isn't a drop of
Florida water in this bath, and none on my bureau. Go and rob Mr.
Pierce,--or anybody."
But Ananias was already gone. Darting out on the gallery, he took a
header through the window of the adjoining quarters through which Mr.
Doyle had escaped, snatched a long flask from the dressing-table, and
was back in the twinkling of an eye.
"What became of Mr. Doyle?" asked Waring, as he thrust a bare arm
through a narrow aperture to receive the spoil. "Don't let him get
drunk; _he's_ got to go to review, sir. If he doesn't, Colonel Braxton
may be so inconsiderate as to inquire why both the lieutenants of 'X'
Battery are missing. Take good care of him till the review, sir, then
let him go to grass; and don't you dare leave me without Florida water
again, if you have to burglarize the whole post. What's Mr. Doyle doing,
sir?"
"Peekin' froo de blin's in Mr. Pierce's room, suh; lookin' fo' de
oade'ly. I done told him de cunnle was ahter him, but he ain't, suh,"
chuckled Ananias. "I fixed it all right wid de gyahd dis mawnin', suh.
Dey won' tell 'bout his cuttin' up las' night. He'd forgot de whole
t'ing, suh; he allays does; he never does know what's happened de night
befo'. He wouldn't 'a' known about dis, but I told his boy Jim to tell
him 'bout it ahter stables. I told Jim to sweah dat dey'd repohted it to
de cunnle."
"Very well, Ananias; very well, sir; you're a credit to your name. Now
go and carry out my orders. Don't forget Captain Cram's wagon. Tell
Jeffers to be here with it on time." And the lieutenant returned to his
bath without waiting for reply.
"Ye-as, suh," was the subordinate answer, as Ananias promptly turned,
and, whistling cheerily, went banging out upon the gallery and
clattering down the open stairway to the brick-paved court below. Here
he as promptly turned, and, noiseless as a cat, shot up the stairway,
tiptoed back into the sitting-room, kicked off his low-heeled slippers,
and rapidly, but with hardly an audible sound, resumed the work on which
he had been engaged,--the arrangement of his master's kit.
Already, faultlessly brushed, folded and hanging over the back of a
chair close by the chamber door were the bright blue, scarlet-welted
battery trousers then in vogue, very snug at the knee, very springy over
the foot. Underneath them, spread over the square back of the chair, a
dark-blue, single-breasted frock-coat, hanging nearly to the floor, its
shoulders decked with huge epaulettes, to the right one of which were
attached the braid and loops of a heavy gilt aiguillette whose
glistening pendants were hung temporarily on the upper button. On the
seat of the chair was folded a broad soft sash of red silk net, its
tassels carefully spread. Beside it lay a pair of long buff gauntlets,
new and spotless. At the door, brilliantly polished, stood a pair of
buttoned gaiter boots, the heels decorated with small glistening brass
spurs. In the corner, close at hand, leaned a long curved sabre, its
gold sword-knot, its triple-guarded hilt, its steel scabbard and plated
bands and rings, as well as the swivels and buckle of the black
sword-belt, showing the perfection of finish in manufacture and care in
keeping. From a round leather box Ananias now extracted a new gold-wire
_fouragère_, which he softly wiped with a silk handkerchief, dandled
lovingly an instant the glistening tassels, coiled it carefully upon
the sash, then producing from the same box a long scarlet horsehair
plume he first brushed it into shimmering freedom from the faintest knot
or kink, then set it firmly through its socket into the front of a
gold-braided shako whose black front was decked with the embroidered
cross cannon of the regiment, surmounted by the arms of the United
States. This he noiselessly placed upon the edge of the mantel, stepped
back to complacently view his work, flicked off a possible speck of dust
on the sleeve of the coat, touched with a chamois-skin the gold crescent
of the nearest epaulette, then softly, noiselessly as before vanished
through the door-way, tiptoed to the adjoining window, and peeked in.
Mr. Doyle had thrown himself into Pierce's arm-chair, and was trying to
read the morning paper.
"Wunner what Mars'er Pierce will say when he gits back from breakfast,"
was Ananias's comment, as he sped softly down the stairs, a broad grin
on his black face, a grin that almost instantly gave place to
preternatural solemnity and respect as, turning sharply on the sidewalk
at the foot of the stairs, he came face to face with the battery
commander. Ananias would have passed with a low obeisance, but the
captain halted him short.
"Where's Mr. Waring, sir?"
"Dressin' fo' inspection, captain."
"He is? I just heard in the mess-room that he didn't propose
attending,--that he had an engagement to breakfast and was going in
town."
"Ye-as, suh, ye-as, suh, General Roosseau, suh, expected de lieutenant
in to breakfast, but de moment he hyuhd 'twas review he ohdered me to
git everything ready, suh. I's goin' for de bay colt now. Beg pahdon,
captain, de lieutenant says is de captain goin' to wear gauntlets or
gloves dis mawnin'? He wants to do just as de captain does, suh."
What a merciful interposition of divine Providence it is that the
African cannot blush! Captain Cram looked suspiciously at the earnest,
unwinking, black face before him. Some memory of old college days
flitted through his mind at the moment. "O Kunopes!" ("thou dog-faced
one!") he caught himself muttering, but negro diplomacy was too much for
him, and the innocence in the face of Ananias would have baffled a man
far more suspicious. Cram was a fellow who loved his battery and his
profession as few men loved before. He was full of big ideas in one way
and little oddities in another. Undoubted ability had been at the bottom
of his selection over the head of many a senior to command one of the
light batteries when the general dismounting took place in '66. Unusual
attractions of person had won him a wife with a fortune only a little
later. The fortune had warranted a short leave abroad this very year.
(He would not have taken a day over sixty, for fear of losing his light
battery.) He had been a stickler for gauntlets on all mounted duty when
he went away, and he came home converted to white wash-leather gloves
because the British horse-artillery wore no other, "and they, sir, are
the nattiest in the world." He could not tolerate an officer whose soul
was not aflame with enthusiasm for battery duty, and so was perpetually
at war with Waring, who dared to have other aspirations. He delighted in
a man who took pride in his dress and equipment, and so rejoiced in
Waring, who, more than any subaltern ever attached to "X," was the very
glass of soldier fashion and mould of soldier form. He had dropped in at
the bachelor mess just in time to hear some gabbling youngster blurt
out a bet that Sam Waring would cut review and keep his tryst in town,
and he had known him many a time to overpersuade his superiors into
excusing him from duty on pretext of social claims, and more than once
into pardoning deliberate absence. But he and the post commander had
deemed it high time to block all that nonsense in future, and had so
informed him, and were nonplussed at Waring's cheery acceptance of the
implied rebuke and most airy, graceful, and immediate change of the
subject. The whole garrison was chuckling over it by night.
"Why, certainly, colonel," said he, "I _have_ been most derelict of late
during the visit of all these charming people from the North; and that
reminds me, some of them are going to drive out here to hear the band
this afternoon and take a bite at my quarters. I was just on my way to
beg Mrs. Braxton and Mrs. Cram to receive for me, when your orderly
came. And, colonel, I want your advice about the champagne. Of course I
needn't say I hope you both will honor me with your presence." Old Brax
loved champagne and salad better than anything his profession afforded,
and was disarmed at once. As for Cram, what could he say when the post
commander dropped the matter? With all his daring disregard of orders
and established customs, with all his consummate _sang-froid_ and what
some called impudence and others "cheek," every superior under whom he
had ever served had sooner or later become actually fond of Sam
Waring,--even stern old Rounds,--"old Double Rounds" the boys called
him, one of the martinets of the service, whose first experience with
the fellow was as memorable as it was unexpected, and who wound up,
after a vehement scoring of some two minutes' duration, during which
Waring had stood patiently at attention with an expression of the
liveliest sympathy and interest on his handsome face, by asking
impressively, "Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?"
To which, with inimitable mixture of suavity and concern, Sam replied,
"Nothing whatever, sir. I doubt if anything more could be said. I had no
adequate idea of the extent of my misdoing. Have I your permission to
sit down, sir, and think it over?"
Rounds actually didn't know what to think, and still less what to say.
Had he believed for an instant that the young gentleman was insincere,
he would have had him in close arrest in the twinkling of an eye; but
Waring's tone and words and manner were those of contrition itself. It
was not possible that one of the boys should dare to be guying him, the
implacable Rounds, "old Grand Rounds" of the Sixth Corps, old Double
Rounds of the horse-artillery of the Peninsula days. Mrs. Rounds had her
suspicions when told of the affair, but was silent, for of all the
officers stationed in and around the old Southern city Sam Waring was by
long odds the most graceful and accomplished dancer and german leader,
the best informed on all manner of interesting matters,--social,
musical, dramatic, fashionable,--the prime mover in garrison hops and
parties, the connecting link between the families of the general and
staff officers in town and the linesmen at the surrounding posts, the
man whose dictum as to a dinner or luncheon and whose judgment as to a
woman's toilet were most quoted and least questioned, the man whose word
could almost make or mar an army girl's success; and good old Lady
Rounds had two such encumbrances the first winter of their sojourn in
the South, and two army girls among so many are subjects of not a little
thought and care. If Mr. Waring had not led the second german with
Margaret Rounds the mother's heart would have been well-nigh crushed. It
was fear of some such catastrophe that kept her silent on the score of
Waring's reply to her irate lord, for if Sam did mean to be impertinent,
as he unquestionably could be, the colonel she knew would be merciless
in his discipline and social amenities would be at instant end. Waring
had covered her with maternal triumph and Margaret with bliss
unutterable by leading the ante-Lenten german with the elder daughter
and making her brief stay a month of infinite joy. The Rounds were
ordered on to Texas, and Margaret's brief romance was speedily and
properly forgotten in the devotions of a more solid if less fascinating
fellow. To do Waring justice, he had paid the girl no more marked
attention than he showed to any one else. He would have led the next
german with Genevieve had there been another to lead, just as he had led
previous affairs with other dames and damsels. It was one of the
ninety-nine articles of his social faith that a girl should have a good
time her first season, just as it was another that a bride should have a
lovely wedding, a belle at least one offer a month, a married woman as
much attention at an army ball as could be lavished on a bud. He prided
himself on the fact that no woman at the army parties given that winter
had remained a wall-flower. Among such a host of officers as was there
assembled during the year that followed on the heels of the war it was
no difficult matter, to be sure, to find partners for the thirty or
forty ladies who honored those occasions with their presence. Of local
belles there were none. It was far too soon after the bitter strife to
hope for bliss so great as that. There were hardly any but army women to
provide for, and even the bulkiest and least attractive of the lot was
led out for the dance. Waring would go to any length to see them on the
floor but that of being himself the partner. There the line was drawn
irrevocably. The best dancer among the men, he simply would not dance
except with the best dancers among the women. As to personal appearance
and traits, it may be said first that Waring was a man of slender,
graceful physique, with singularly well shaped hands and feet and a
head and face that were almost too good-looking to be manly. Dark hazel
eyes, dark brown hair, eyebrows, lashes, and a very heavy drooping
moustache, a straight nose, a soft, sensitive mouth with even white
teeth that were, however, rarely visible, a clear-cut chin, and with it
all a soft, almost languid Southern intonation, musical, even
ultra-refined, and he shrank like a woman from a coarse word or the
utterance of an impure thought. He was a man whom many women admired, of
whom some were afraid, whom many liked and trusted, for he could not be
bribed to say a mean thing about one of their number, though he would
sometimes be satirical to her very face. It was among the men that Sam
Waring was hated or loved,--loved, laughed over, indulged, even spoiled,
perhaps, to any and every extent, by the chosen few who were his chums
and intimates, and absolutely hated by a very considerable element that
was prominent in the army in those queer old days,--the array of
officers who, by reason of birth, antecedents, lack of education or of
social opportunities, were wanting in those graces of manner and
language to which Waring had been accustomed from earliest boyhood. His
people were Southerners, yet, not being slave-owners, had stood firm for
the Union, and were exiled from the old home as a natural consequence in
a war in which the South held all against who were not for her.
Appointed a cadet and sent to the Military Academy in recognition of the
loyalty of his immediate relatives, he was not graduated until the war
was practically over, and then, gazetted to an infantry regiment, he was
stationed for a time among the scenes of his boyhood, ostracized by his
former friends and unable to associate with most of the war-worn
officers among whom his lot was cast. It was a year of misery, that
ended in long and dangerous illness, his final shipment to Washington on
sick-leave, and then a winter of keen delight, a social campaign in
which he won fame, honors, friends at court, and a transfer to the
artillery, and then, joining his new regiment, he plunged with eagerness
into the gayeties of city life. The blues were left behind with the cold
facings of his former corps, and hope, life, duty, were all blended in
hues as roseate as his new straps were red. It wasn't a month before all
the best fellows in the batteries swore by Sam Waring and all the
others at him, so that where there were five who liked there were at
least twenty who didn't, and these made up in quantity what they lacked
in quality.
To sum up the situation, Lieutenant Doyle's expression was perhaps the
most comprehensive, as giving the views of the great majority: "If I
were his K. O. and this crowd the coort, he'd 'a' been kicked out of the
service months ago."
And yet, entertaining or expressing so hostile an opinion of the
laughing lieutenant, Mr. Doyle did not hesitate to seek his society on
many an occasion when he wasn't wanted, and to solace himself at
Waring's sideboard at any hour of the day or night, for Waring kept what
was known as "open house" to all comers, and the very men who wondered
how he could afford it and who predicted his speedy swamping in a mire
of debt and disgrace were the very ones who were most frequently to be
found loafing about his gallery, smoking his tobacco and swigging his
whiskey, a pretty sure sign that the occupant of the quarters, however,
was absent. With none of their number had he ever had open quarrel.
Remarks made at his expense and reported to him in moments of bibulous
confidence he treated with gay disdain, often to the manifest
disappointment of his informant. In his presence even the most reckless
of their number were conscious of a certain restraint. Waring, as has
been said, detested foul language, and had a very quiet but effective
way of suppressing it, often without so much as uttering a word. These
were the rough days of the army, the very roughest it ever knew, the
days that intervened between the incessant strain and tension of the
four years' battling and the slow gradual resumption of good order and
military discipline. The rude speech and manners of the camp still
permeated every garrison. The bulk of the commissioned force was made up
of hard fighters, brave soldiers and loyal servants of the nation, to be
sure, but as a class they had known no other life or language since the
day of their muster-in. Of the line officers stationed in and around
this Southern city in the lovely spring-tide of 186-, of a force
aggregating twenty companies of infantry and cavalry, there were fifty
captains and lieutenants appointed from the volunteers, the ranks, or
civil life, to one graduated from West Point. The predominance was in
favor of ex-sergeants, corporals, or company clerks,--good men and true
when they wore the chevrons, but who, with a few marked and most
admirable exceptions, proved to be utterly out of their element when
promoted to a higher sphere. The entrance into their midst of Captain
Cram with his swell light battery, with officers and men in scarlet
plumes and full-dress uniforms, was a revelation to the sombre
battalions whose officers had not yet even purchased their epaulettes
and had seen no occasion to wear them. But when Cram and his lieutenants
came swaggering about the garrison croquet-ground in natty shell
jackets, Russian shoulder-knots, riding-breeches, boots, and spurs,
there were not lacking those among the sturdy foot who looked upon the
whole proceeding with great disfavor. Cram had two "rankers" with him
when he came, but one had transferred out in favor of Waring, and now
his battery was supplied with the full complement of subalterns,--Doyle,
very much out of place, commanding the right section (as a platoon was
called in those days), Waring commanding the left, Ferry serving as
chief of caissons, and Pierce as battery adjutant and general utility
man. Two of the officers were graduates of West Point and not yet three
years out of the cadet uniform. Under these circumstances it was
injudicious in Cram to sport in person the aiguillettes and thereby set
an example to his subalterns which they were not slow to follow. With
their gold hat-braids, cords, tassels, and epaulettes, with scarlet
plumes and facings, he and his officers were already much more
gorgeously bedecked than were their infantry friends. The post
commander, old Rounds, had said nothing, because he had had his start in
the light artillery and might have lived and died a captain had he not
pushed for a volunteer regiment and fought his way up to a division
command and a lieutenant-colonelcy of regulars at the close of the war,
while his seniors who stuck to their own corps never rose beyond the
possibilities of their arm of the service and probably never will. But
Braxton, who succeeded as post commander, knew that in European armies
and in the old Mexican War days the aiguillette was ordinarily the
distinctive badge of general officers or those empowered to give orders
in their name. It wasn't the proper thing for a linesman--battery,
cavalry, or foot--to wear, said Brax, and he thought Cram was wrong in
wearing it, even though some other battery officers did so. But Cram was
just back from Britain.
"Why, sir, look at the Life Guards! Look at the Horse Guards in London!
Every officer and man wears the aiguillette." And Braxton was a Briton
by birth and breeding, and that ended it,--at least so nearly ended it
that Cram's diplomatic invitation to come up and try some Veuve
Clicquot, extra dry, upon the merits of which he desired the colonel's
opinion, had settled it for good and all. Braxton's officers who
ventured to suggest that he trim the plumage of these popinjays only got
snubbed, therefore, for the time being, and ordered to buy the infantry
full dress forthwith, and Cram and his quartette continued to blaze
forth in gilded panoply until long after Sam Waring led his last german
within those echoing walls and his name lived only as a dim and
mist-wreathed memory in the annals of old Jackson Barracks.
But on this exquisite April morning no fellow in all the garrison was
more prominent, if not more popular. Despite the slight jealousy
existing between the rival arms of the service, there were good fellows
and gallant men among the infantry officers at the post, who were as
cordially disposed towards the gay lieutenant as were the comrades of
his own (colored) cloth. This is the more remarkable because he was
never known to make the faintest effort to conciliate anybody and was
utterly indifferent to public opinion. It would have been fortune far
better than his deserts, but for the fact that by nature he was most
generous, courteous, and considerate. The soldiers of the battery were
devoted to him. The servants, black or white, would run at any time to
do his capricious will. The garrison children adored him. There was
simply no subject under discussion at the barracks in those days on
which such utter variety of opinion existed as the real character of
Lieutenant Sam Waring. As to his habits there was none whatever. He was
a _bon vivant_, a "swell," a lover of all that was sweet and fair and
good and gracious in life. Self-indulgent, said everybody; selfish, said
some; lazy, said many, who watched him day-dreaming through the haze of
cigar-smoke until a drive, a hop, a ride, or an opera-party would call
him into action. Slow, said the men, until they saw him catch Mrs.
Winslow's runaway horse just at that ugly turn in the levee below the
south tower. Cold-hearted, said many of the women, until Baby Brainard's
fatal illness, when he watched by the little sufferer's side and brought
her flowers and luscious fruit from town, and would sit at her mother's
piano and play soft, sweet melodies and sing in low tremulous tone until
the wearied eyelids closed and the sleep no potion could bring to that
fever-racked brain would come at last for him to whom child-love was
incense and music at once a passion and a prayer. Men who little knew
and less liked him thought his enmity would be but light, and few men
knew him so well as to realize that his friendship could be firm and
true as steel.
And so the garrison was mixed in its mind as to Mr. Waring, and among
those who heard it said at the mess that he meant at all hazards to keep
his engagement to breakfast in town there were some who really wished he
might cut the suddenly-ordered review and thereby bring down upon his
shapely, nonchalant head the wrath of Colonel Braxton.
"Boots and Saddles" had sounded at the artillery barracks. Mr. Pierce,
as battery officer of the day, had clattered off through the north
gateway. The battery had marched with dancing plumes and clanking sabres
out to the stables and gun-shed. The horses of Lieutenants Doyle and
Ferry were waiting for their riders underneath the gallery of their
quarters. Captain Cram, in much state, followed by his orderly bugler
and guidon-bearer, all in full uniform, was riding slowly down the sunny
side of the garrison, and at sight of him Doyle and Ferry, who were
leisurely pulling on their gauntlets in front of their respective doors,
hooked up their sabres and came clattering down their stairway; but no
Waring had appeared. There, across the parade on the southern side, the
bay colt, caparisoned in Waring's unimpeachable horse-equipments, was
being led up and down in the shade of the quarters, Mr. Pierce's boy Jim
officiating as groom, while his confrère Ananias, out of sight, was at
the moment on his knees fastening the strap of his master's
riding-trousers underneath the dainty gaiter boot, Mr. Waring the while
surveying the proceeding over the rim of his coffee-cup.
"Dar, suh. Now into de coat, quick! Yawnduh goes Captain Cram."
"Ananias, how often have I told you that, howsoever necessary it might
be for you to hurry, I never do? It's unbecoming an officer and a
gentleman to hurry, sir."
"But you's got to inspect yo' section, suh, befo' you can repote to
Captain Cram. Please hurry wid de sash, suh." And, holding the belt
extended with both hands, Ananias stood eager to clasp it around
Waring's slender waist, but the lieutenant waved him away.
"Get thee behind me, imp of Satan! Would you have me neglect one of the
foremost articles of an artilleryman's faith? Never, sir! If there were
a wrinkle in that sash it would cut a chasm in my reputation, sir." And,
so saying, he stepped to the open door-way, threw the heavy tassel over
and around the knob, kissed his hand jauntily to his battery commander,
now riding down the opposite side of the parade, backed deliberately
away the full length of the sash across the room, then, humming a
favorite snatch from "Faust," deliberately wound himself into the bright
crimson web, and, making a broad flat loop near the farther end and
without stopping his song, nodded coolly to Ananias to come on with the
belt. In the same calm and deliberate fashion he finished his military
toilet, set his shako well forward on his forehead, the chin-strap
hanging just below the under lip, pulled on the buff gauntlets, surveyed
himself critically and leisurely in the glass, and then began slowly to
descend the stairs.
"Wait--jus' one moment, please, suh," implored Ananias, hastening after
him. "Jus' happened to think of it, suh: Captain Cram's wearin' gloves
dis mawnin'."
"Ah! So much the more chance to come back here in ten minutes.--Whoa,
coltikins: how are you this morning, sir? Think you could run away if I
begged you to pretty hard? You'll try, won't you, old boy?" said Waring,
stroking the glossy neck of the impatient bay.--"Now, Jim, let go. Never
allow anybody to hold a horse for you when you mount. That's highly
unprofessional, sir. That'll do." And, so saying, he swung himself into
saddle, and, checking the bounds of his excited colt, rode calmly away
to join the battery.
Already the bandsmen were marching through the north gate on the way to
the broad open field in which the manoeuvres were held. The adjutant,
sergeant-major, and markers were following. Just outside the gate the
post commander was seated on horseback, and Cram had reined in to speak
with him. Now, in his blithest, cheeriest tones, Waring accosted them,
raising his hand in salute as he did so:
"Good-morning, colonel. Good-morning, Captain Cram. We're in luck
to-day. Couldn't possibly have lovelier weather. I'm only sorry this
came off so suddenly and I hadn't time to invite our friends out from
town. They would have been so pleased to see the battalion;--the
ceremonies."
"H'm! There was plenty of time if you'd returned to the post at retreat
yesterday, sir," growled old Braxton. "Everybody was notified who was
here then. What time _did_ you get back, sir?"
"Upon my word, colonel, I don't know. I never thought to look or
inquire; but it was long after taps. Pardon me, though, I see I'm late
inspecting." And in a moment he was riding quietly around among his
teams and guns, narrowly scrutinizing each toggle, trace, and strap
before taking station midway between his lead drivers, and then, as Cram
approached, reporting, "Left section ready, sir."
Meantime, the infantry companies were marching out through the gate and
then ordering arms and resting until adjutant's call should sound.
Drivers and cannoneers were dismounted to await the formation of the
battalion line. Waring rode forward and in the most jovial off-hand way
began telling Cram of the incidents of the previous day and his
sight-seeing with the party of visitors from the North.
"By the way, I promised Mr. Allerton that they should see that team of
yours before they left: so, if you've no objection, the first morning
you're on duty and can't go up, I'll take advantage of your invitation
and drive Miss Allerton myself. Doesn't that court adjourn this week?"
"I'm afraid not," said Cram, grimly. "It looks as though we'd have to
sit to-day and to-morrow both."
"Well, that's too bad! They all want to meet you again. Couldn't you
come up this evening after stables? Hello! this won't do; our infantry
friends will be criticising us: I see you're wearing gloves, and I'm in
gauntlets. So is Doyle. We can't fit him out, I'm afraid, but I've just
got some from New York exactly like yours. I'll trot back while we're
waiting, if you don't object, and change them."
Cram didn't want to say yes, yet didn't like to say no. He hesitated,
and--was lost. In another moment, as though never imagining refusal were
possible, Waring had quickly ridden away through the gate and
disappeared behind the high brick wall.
When the bugle sounded "mount," three minutes later, and the battery
broke into column of pieces to march away to the manoeuvring grounds,
Mr. Ferry left the line of caissons and took command of the rear
section. All that the battery saw of Waring or his mount the rest of the
morning was just after reaching the line, when the fiery colt came
tearing riderless around the field, joyously dodging every attempt of
the spectators to catch him, and revelling in the delight of kicking up
his heels and showing off in the presence and sight of his envious
friends in harness. Plunge though they might, the horses could not join;
dodge though they might, the bipeds could not catch him. Review,
inspection, and the long ceremonials of the morning went off without the
junior first lieutenant of Battery "X," who, for his part, went off
without ceremony of any kind, Cram's stylish team and wagon with him.
That afternoon he reappeared driving about the barrack square, a pretty
girl at his side, both engrossed in the music of the band and apparently
oblivious of the bottled-up wrath of either battery or post commander.
"Be gorra!" said Doyle, "I'd like to be in his place now, provided I
didn't have to be in it to-morrow."
But when the morrow came there came no Waring with it.