"Our fortune on the sea is out of breath.
And sinks most lamentably."--SHAKESPEARE.
The winter brought an almost endless routine of drill, guard, and picket
duty and digging.
The division was on duty near Budd's Ferry. Dr. Khayme's quarters were a
mile to the rear of our left. I was a frequent visitor at his tents.
After Willis's return to duty, which was in November, he and I spent
much of our spare time at the Sanitary camp. It was easy to see what
attracted Jake. It did not seem to me that Dr. Khayme gave much thought
to the sergeant, but Lydia gravely received his adoration silently
offered, and so conducted herself in his presence that I was puzzled
greatly concerning their relations. I frequently wondered why the
sergeant did not confide in me; we had become very intimate, so that in
everything, except his feeling for Miss Khayme, I was Willis's bosom
friend, so to speak; in that matter, however, he chose to ignore me.
One night--it was the night of February 6-7, 1862--I was at the Doctor's
tent. Jake was sergeant of the camp guard and could not be with us. The
Doctor smoked and read, engaging in the conversation, however, at his
pleasure. Lydia seemed graver than usual. I wondered if it could be
because of Willis's absence. It seemed to me impossible that this
dignified woman could entertain a passion for the sergeant, who, while
of course a very manly fellow, and a thorough soldier in his way,
surely was not on a level with Miss Khayme. As for me, ah! well; I knew
and felt keenly that until my peculiar mental phases should leave me
never to return, love and marriage were impossible--so the very truth
was, and always had been, that I had sufficient strength to restrain any
incipient desire, and prudence enough to avoid temptation. My condition
encouraged introspection. I was almost constantly probing my own mind,
and by mere strength of will, which I had long cultivated until--I
suppose there is no immodesty in saying it--I could govern myself, I
drew back from every obstacle which my judgment pronounced
insurmountable. The Doctor had been of the greatest help to me in this
development of the will, and especially in that phase or exercise of it
called self-control; one of his common sayings was, "He who resists the
inevitable increases evil."
Ever since when as a boy I had yielded to his friendly guidance, Dr.
Khayme had evidently felt a sense of proprietorship in respect to me,
and I cherished such relationship; yet there had been many times in our
recent intercourse when I had feared him; so keen was the man's insight.
The power that he exercised over me I submitted to gratefully; I felt
that he was a man well fitted for counselling youth, and I had so many
proofs of his good-will, even of his affection, that I trusted him fully
in regard to myself; yet, with all this, I felt that his great
knowledge, and especially his wonderful alertness of judgment, which
amounted in many cases seemingly to prophetic power almost, were
doubtful quantities in relation to the war. I believed that he was
admitted to high council; I had frequent glimpses of
intimations--seemingly unguarded on his part--that he knew beforehand
circumstances and projects not properly to be spoken of; but somehow,
from a look, or a word, or a movement now and then, I had almost reached
the opinion that Dr. Khayme was absolutely neutral between the
contestants in the war of the rebellion. He never showed anxiety. The
news of the Ball's Bluff disaster, which touched so keenly the heart of
the North, and especially of Massachusetts, gave him no distress, to
judge from his impassive face and his manner; yet it is but just to
repeat that he showed great interest in every event directly relating to
the existence of slavery. He commended the acts of General Butler in
Virginia and General Fremont in Missouri, and hoped that the Southern
leaders would impress all able-bodied slaves into some sort of service,
so that they would become at least morally subject to the act of
Congress, approved August 6, which declared all such persons discharged
from previous servitude. In comparing my own attitude to the war with
the Doctor's, I frequently thought that he cared nothing for the Union,
and I cared everything; that he was concerned only in regard to human
slavery, while I was willing for the States themselves to settle that
matter; for I could see no constitutional power existing in the Congress
or in the President to abolish or even mitigate slavery without the
consent of the party of the first part. I was in the war not on account
of slavery, certainly, but on account of the preservation of the Union;
Dr. Khayme was in the war--so far as he was in it at all--not for the
Union, but for the abolition of slavery.
On this night of February 6, the Doctor smoked and read and occasionally
gave utterance to some thought.
"Jones," said he, "we are going to have news from the West; Grant
advances."
"I trust he will have better luck than McDowell had," was my reply.
"He will; I don't know that he is a better general, but he has the help
of the navy."
"But the rebels have their river batteries," said I.
"Yes, and these batteries are costly, and will prove insufficient; if
the North succeeds in this war, and I see no reason to doubt her success
if she will but determine to succeed, it will be through her navy."
I did not say anything to this. The Doctor smoked, Lydia sat looking
dreamily at the door of the stove.
After a while I asked: "Why is it that we do not move? February is a
spring month in the South."