A Daughter of the Union Part 39
The lurid glare fell in red and amber light upon the houses, lighting up the white magnolias, paling the pink c.r.a.pe myrtles, and bringing out in bright distinctness the railing of the terraces where drooped in fragrant wreaths the cl.u.s.tering pa.s.sion vine. The next day the news came that the little village of Warrenton had been burned by sh.e.l.ls thrown from the boats. Then followed the tidings that a battle was going on between the Federal troops and General Pemberton's forces at Black River. And so the days pa.s.sed full of rumors and excitement.
The seventeenth of May dawned, and Vicksburg was thrilled to the centre by the news of a battle and the tidings that the Confederates were beaten.
Soon the streets were filled with bands of tired, worn-looking soldiers.
Wan, hollow-eyed, ragged, footsore and b.l.o.o.d.y the men limped along unarmed but followed by siege guns, ambulances, gun carriages and wagons in aimless confusion. At twilight the bands began to play "Dixie,"
"The Bonnie Blue Flag," and other martial airs on the court-house hill to rally the scattered army.
"Mr. Huntsworth," said Jeanne as they were for a few moments out of ear-shot of the lamenting Bob. "I heard a man say that the Yankees would be here before long. Do you think it can be true?"
"I don't know, child. Let us hope so," was the answer.
But the day pa.s.sed and no Yankees made their appearance and the citizens settled once more into a semblance of quiet. But from that time the regular siege of Vicksburg began. Utterly cut off from the world and surrounded by a circle of fire, the fiery shower of sh.e.l.ls went on day and night. Regular occupations were discontinued, and people did nothing but eat what they could get, sleep when they could and dodge the sh.e.l.ls.
For some time Aunt Sally, Bob, d.i.c.k, Jeanne and Mr. Huntsworth, and the servants had been living in the commodious cave prepared for them. The girls no longer sewed or walked about. They were content if they could keep out of range of the sh.e.l.ls. Once every day some one of them ran the gauntlet of sh.e.l.ls to buy the meat and milk. Mule meat was the staple article of diet, but this Bob and Jeanne utterly refused to touch and confined themselves to rice and milk.
"It is not at all bad," declared Mr. Huntsworth as he sat at the door of the cave one evening a piece of the meat in his hand. "Come here, girls, and let me show you the difference in the sh.e.l.ls. There goes a Parrott.
That's a mortar sh.e.l.l that curls so beautifully down yon hillside.
This"--as he dodged back into the cave to escape one--"is a rifle sh.e.l.l."
"I don't see what difference it makes," said Bob retreating to the back of the cave, "what kind of a sh.e.l.l it is if it kills you. Do you, Jeanne?"
"I think not," answered Jeanne tremblingly. "What a fearful thing war is!
Oh!"
A sh.e.l.l fell just without the mouth of the cavern like a flame of fire, making the earth tremble, and with a low, singing sound the fragments sped on in their work of death.
"We seem to be within range this evening," said Mr. Huntsworth as he came to where the trembling girls crouched.
Sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l followed each other in quick succession, and our little party stood without speaking, awaiting the sudden death that seemed almost certain. Jeanne's heart stood still as she heard the reports from the guns and the rushing fearful sound as the sh.e.l.ls came toward them. As the sh.e.l.ls neared the cave the noise became more deafening; the air was full of the rushing sound; pains darted through her temples; her ears were full of the confusing noise; and, as one would explode, the report flashed through her head like an electric shock, leaving her in a state of terror, painful to be imagined.
The rest of the occupants of the cavern were not much better off. After this paroxysm of fear pa.s.sed they strove for composure only to be again overcome as the fusillade was repeated.
Morning found them more dead than alive, with blanched faces and trembling lips, but as the time pa.s.sed and they were still preserved, although the sh.e.l.ls came as fast as ever, they took courage and at last regained a measure of calmness.
There was not much mental rest for the people of Vicksburg, and added to Jeanne's apprehensions for their safety was the anxiety over d.i.c.k. The lad had grown as strong as was possible considering the scarcity of nourishing food and, as the sh.e.l.ling grew worse, a sort of restlessness seized upon him and he would stand without the entrance of the cave careless of the sh.e.l.ls falling about him, watching their progress intently.
"I am afraid that he will be killed," said Jeanne tearfully to Bob. "Why does he do it, Bob?"
"Mr. Huntsworth says that it is because he is a soldier," said Bob.
"I wish I could take him home. I must as soon as possible," said Jeanne.
Bob looked at her wonderingly. It was a surprise to her how Jeanne still kept the hope of getting home, and ignored the fact that she and d.i.c.k were prisoners. Opening her lips she was about to reply when the unmistakable whirring of a sh.e.l.l told her that the battery which they feared the most had turned their guns upon their hill. Running to the entrance she called d.i.c.k and the servants in. They had just obeyed her summons when a Parrott sh.e.l.l came whirring in at the entrance and fell in the centre of the cave before them all, lying there smoking.
Terrified they fastened their eyes upon it. Their fate seemed certain.
For one moment they remained thus, and then d.i.c.k rushed forward, seized the sh.e.l.l and threw it into the street, regaining the cave just as the sh.e.l.l exploded.
"d.i.c.k," cried Jeanne running to him, "oh, how brave you are! But what if you had been killed!"
"It's time I was throwing them," said d.i.c.k emphatically. "I ought to have been at the other end of them long ago."
"Oh, but what if you had been killed," sobbed Jeanne. "What would mother say?"
"That I had but done my duty," answered the lad.
"He is right," said Mr. Huntsworth. "Besides had he not been so brave not only he but all the rest of us would have been killed also. Let us give thanks for our wonderful escape."
CHAPTER XXIX
MADAME FOR THE LAST TIME
Since leaving the La Chaises' Jeanne had seen nothing of her uncle and aunt, so she supposed that they had withdrawn from the city when General Pemberton had issued the order for the non-combatants to leave. One afternoon amid the rush and explosion of the sh.e.l.ls, cries and screams arose--the screams of women amid the shrieks of the falling sh.e.l.ls. Their curiosity getting the better of their timidity, Jeanne and Bob resolved to find out what was the matter.
"Then I will go too," said d.i.c.k, "if you are resolved upon going, but I think it is foolhardy."
"Let's go," cried Bob. "I am so tired of this damp, ill-smelling, earthy home that I almost think I would welcome death as a change. Let's go."
The three started forth, dodging the sh.e.l.ls as they walked. Presently they came to a cave in a side hill around which a number of people were gathered.
"What has happened?" asked d.i.c.k of a man.
"It's the cave of the Vances and the La Chaises," was the answer. "Some sh.e.l.ls struck the ground above and it caved in burying them. We don't know whether they are dead or alive."
With an exclamation of horror d.i.c.k darted forward.
"A spade," he cried. "A spade, or a pick, or a shovel! Anything that will dig! Why do you stand here, men?"
"We can't work with the sh.e.l.ls flying around us," growled a man.
"You are not any more likely to be hit while working than you are standing still," cried the boy. "Get something quick!"
Moved by his earnestness the men obtained picks, shovels, spades, and anything that would move the dirt, and in spite of the flying sh.e.l.ls began to dig out the unfortunate persons. Pale as death Jeanne stood by, clinging to Bob, unwilling to leave the spot until she could learn their condition. Her resentment toward her uncle and aunt was overcome by the great catastrophe that had overtaken them.
Mr. Vance was found first. He was quite dead, as were also Mr. and Mrs. La Chaise. Madame Vance was alive but had sustained mortal injuries so that her death was but a question of a few moments. Her eyes lighted up when they fell upon d.i.c.k.
"My boy," she cried feebly, "you did like me, didn't you?"
"Indeed I did, Cherie," and d.i.c.k took the poor crushed form into his arms.
"I knew it," she whispered looking at him lovingly. "Forgive me, d.i.c.k, that I used you so. I wanted you to think as I did."
"It is all forgiven," said the boy tenderly. "Here is Jeanne, Cherie. Have you no word for her?"
"No," said Madame. "I never liked her. She was a child, but she took you from me, my boy.