"No," said he; "erase that B and put another one before Jones."
"Have you an eraser?"
"I'll get one."
The B after Jones was erased, leaving a dark splotch. I wrote B. before
Jones.
"We must get that dark spot out," said he.
He took the book and very carefully tore out part of the leaf, so that
there remained only B. Jones and the part of the fly-leaf above
the writing.
"Now," said he, "put that in your pocket."
"What is all this for, Doctor?"
"For a purpose. Keep it in your pocket; it may serve to protect you."
"What time is it, Doctor?"
"Ten minutes to eleven."
"I must go."
He said no word; but he put up his hands to my face, and made me bend to
him, and kissed me.
* * * * *
Before midnight one of General Morell's orderlies had passed me through
our cavalry pickets beyond Mechanicsville.
The Doctor's stimulant, or something else, gave me strength, My mind
was clear and my will firm. True, I felt indifferent to life; but the
lesson which the Doctor had given me I had clearly understood, and I had
voluntarily turned the die for duty after it had been cast for ease. All
my hesitation had gone, leaving in its place disgust kept down by
effort, but kept down. I wanted nothing in life. Nothing? Yes, nothing;
I had desire, but knew it unattainable, and renounced its object. I
would not hope for a happiness that might bring ruin on another.
To die in the work begun this night seemed to me appropriate; life at
the present rate was worse than worthless. Yet I had not yielded to this
feeling even; I would be prudent and would accomplish what was hoped
for, if my strength should serve.
In General Morell's tent I had been offered a lieutenant's
commission,--a blank fully signed and ready to fill, but had rejected
it, through vanity perhaps--the vanity that told me to first perform a
duty for which the honour had been soothingly offered.
My plans--I had no plans. I had started.
What was the weather when I started that night? I do not know. I was
making for the swamp; I would go to the swamp; I would look for an
opportunity--that was all.
The swamp was soon around me. I filed right. I found mire and bush, and
many obstacles. The obstacles stirred my reason. To follow every crook
of this winding stream was absurd. I came out of the swamp and began to
skirt its edge. I looked toward my right--the northeast; the sky
reflected a dim glow from many dying camp-fires. I could see how the low
swamp's edge bent in and out, and how I could make a straighter course
than the river. In some places a path was found. Our pickets were
supposed to be on the edge of the hills behind me.
My course was northwestward. I crossed two roads which ran at right
angles to my course and probably entered Richmond. On each of them
successively I advanced until I could see a bridge, upon which I knew it
would not be safe to venture, for it was no doubt held by the
Confederates. I continued up the stream, approaching it at times to see
if it had narrowed.
About two miles, I supposed, from our cavalry vedettes, I crossed a
railroad. On the other side I turned southward. The ground was covered
with dense undergrowth and immense trees, and was soft and slippery from
recent high water. My progress was soon interrupted by a stream, flowing
sluggishly to my left. I sought a crossing. The stream was not deep, but
the slippery banks gave me great difficulty in the darkness. The water
came to my waist; on the further side were hollows filled with standing
water left by the freshet. I had crossed the main branch of the
Chickahominy.
Within a mile I expected to find Brook Run, behind which it was supposed
the Confederate left extended, and where I must exercise the greatest
care lest I run foul of some vedette. How to avoid stumbling on one of
them in the darkness, was a problem. Very likely they were placed from a
hundred to two hundred yards apart, and near the bank of the stream, if
practicable, especially at night, for the stream itself would not only
be their protection, but also, by its difficulty and its splashing,
would betray any force which should attempt to cross to the south side.
But I found the creek very crooked, and I considered that a line of
vedettes, two hundred yards apart by the course of the stream, would
require probably a man to every fifty yards in a direct line, and such a
line of vedettes could not well be maintained constantly--never is
maintained, I think, unless an enemy's approach is momentarily feared,
in which case you frequently have no vedettes at all. Following up this
thought I concluded that the vedettes were, most likely, watching their
front from the inner bends of the stream, and that, at a bend which had
its convex side toward the north, was my opportunity.
I was not long in finding such a bend. And now my caution became very
great, and my advance very slow. The bank sloped, but was almost
completely hidden in the darkness. I could not see the edge of
the water.
Lying flat, I thrust the butt of my gun ahead of me, and moved it up and
down and right and left, trying the inequalities of the ground. To make
no sound required the very greatest care; a slip of an inch might have
caused a loud splash.
Slowly I gained ground until I reached the water, and stood in it to my
knees. I listened--not a sound. I slowly moved forward, raising my foot
not an inch from the muddy bottom, straining eye and ear to note the
slightest sign of danger. The water deepened to my middle.
I crawled up the further bank. Again I lent ear. Nothing. I crawled
forward for fifty yards or more, hoping, rather than believing, that I
was keeping halfway between the sides of the bend.
I rested a while, for such work is very hard. Before a minute had passed
I heard a noise--and another: one at my right, the other at my left. The
sounds were repeated. I knew what they meant--the vedette on either side
of me was being relieved. My course had been right--I was midway between
two sentinels.
How to get through the picket-line ahead of me? I reasoned that the
pickets were not in the swamp, but on the edge of the hills. Lying there
between the two vedettes I imagined a plan. I knew that a picket-line is
relieved early in the day when troops are in position, as the armies
were now. If I could see the relief coming, I would show myself just at
the time it arrived, hoping that each party would take me to belong to
the other.
But suppose I should not see the relieving company, or suppose any one
of a thousand things should at the last moment make my plan
impracticable, what then?
I saw that I must have some other plan to fall back on; I would make
some other plan as I crawled forward.
At what moment should I strike the line of Confederate pickets? That the
country outside was in their cavalry lines I well knew, and I hoped that
for this reason their infantry would be less watchful; but this thought
did not make me any the less prudent and slow in my advance. I had
easily succeeded in passing the vedettes; to avoid the vedette reliefs
might not be easy.
When I reached the edge of the swamp, daylight was just beginning to
show. Could I hope to remain long between vedettes and pickets?
Impossible. But impossible is a strong word, I thought. Why not climb?
Trees were all around me; I might easily hide in the thick boughs of a
cedar near by. But that would do me no good; at least, it could do no
good unless in case of sudden necessity. I must get through the
picket-line; outside I could do nothing. Once in rear of the Confederate
pickets, I should have little or no trouble in remaining for days in the
camps and in the main lines; getting through was the difficulty.
Daylight was increasing.
Had it taken me two hours to crawl from the line of vedettes to this
edge of the swamp? The question rose in my mind from seeing a relief
come down the hill at my right; two men, supposably a non-commissioned
officer and a private, were going to pass in fifty yards of me. I let
them pass. They went into the swamp. Five minutes later two men returned
by the same route, or almost so, but came a little nearer to me; I saw
them coming and felt for my glass, but did not find it. I supposed that
Dr. Khayme had forgotten to put it in my haversack. Yet the men--no
doubt the same non-commissioned officer, with the private he had just
relieved from duty as a vedette--passed so near me that I could
distinctly see their dress, and could note its worn and bedraggled
appearance. These men had seen hard service, evidently.
Five minutes more passed. The east was aglow with day. Two men at my
left were now coming down the hill. They passed into the swamp. These
men wore uniforms fresh and clean.
The thought came upon me at once that I had passed between two vedettes
belonging to different regiments. I cast about for some way to take
advantage of this circumstance, but racked my brains to no purpose.
Finally, however, an odd idea was born. Could I not go back to the
vedettes, and talk to either the right or the left man of the connecting
line? He would probably think that I belonged to the command joining
his. No doubt I could do this; but what should I gain? I should merely
be losing time.
Then another idea came. Could I not post myself as a Confederate vedette
between the connecting men? But for what? Even if I could do so there
was no profit in this romantic idea. I gave it up.
Yet I must do something. I considered the chances of going forward
boldly, walking straight between two pits, and on up the hill. The
pickets would see that I was a Confederate. If I could strike between
the connecting pits of the two commands, the thing might be done. Yet I
wanted a better way.
Before the second relief had returned I was hidden in the boughs of a
tree. The corporal and a man passed back as they had come. They were
talking, but I could not hear what they said.
I watched them from the tree. A gully was in front of me, a large gully,
only in parts visible from my position; it seemed to be on their route.
The two men became hidden by this gully. I saw them no more. My interest
was excited. Why had the men gone into this gully? There was smoother
ground outside. They had a purpose; I must find it out.
Until the next relief should come I was comparatively safe. I was on
neutral ground, or unobserved ground, for an hour at least. I could not
know whether the reliefs came as ordinarily--once every two hours. There
would probably be nobody passing between vedettes and pickets--unless,
indeed, some officer should go the rounds of the sentinels; that was
something I must risk.
I came down from the tree and cautiously approached the mouth of the
gully. I climbed another tree, from which I had a better view. I could
now see that the gully extended far up the hill, and I suspected that
the picket-line stretched across it; but there was no indication of the
purpose which had caused the men to go into the gully. My position was a
good one, and I waited. I could see a part of the picket-line--that is,
not the men, but the rifle-pits.
Ten minutes went by. Coming down the hill from the right in an oblique
direction toward the gully, I saw an unarmed rebel. He disappeared. He
had gone down into this gully, which, I was now confident, separated by
its width the pickets of different commands. What could this unarmed man
be doing in the gully? Nothing for me to do but to wait; I was hoping
that an opportunity had been found.
Soon I saw another man coming down toward the gully; he was coming from
the other side--the left; he was armed. At nearly the same instant the
unarmed man reappeared; his back was toward me, he held his canteen in
his hand. The situation was clear; there was water in the gully; my
opportunity had come.
I came down from the tree. Almost an hour would be mine before the
vedettes were relieved. Cautiously I made my way to the mouth of the
gully. I lay flat and watched. A man was climbing the side of the gully;
he was going to the left; he was armed--doubtless the man I had seen a
moment before. I went into the gully. I must get to that spring or pool,
or whatever it was, before another man should come.
Before the man had reached the picket-line, I was at the spring--and it
was a good one, at least for that swamp. A little hollow had been made
by digging with bayonets, perhaps, or with the hands, on one side of the
gully, just where a huge bulk of unfallen earth would protect the hole
from the midday sun, the only sun which could reach the bottom of this
ravine, defended by its wall on either hand. The hole was so small that
only one canteen could be filled at a time; but the water was good
compared with that of the Chickahominy. Doubtless it was the difficulty
of getting pure water that justified the relaxation of discipline which
permitted the men to have recourse to this spring in rear of their
vedette lines.
Canteen in hand, I sat down by the spring. Fully three minutes I sat and
waited. Seeing how muddy I was, I took out my knife and began scraping
the mud from my shoes and clothing.
I heard a step. I put my canteen into the water and held it down with
one hand, continuing, to scrape mud with the other.
"Fill mine, too," said a voice.