A Daughter of the Union Part 4
"It showed plainly where she kept her money," replied Jeanne promptly.
"Exactly. If you keep fingering the petticoat it will show to every one that there is something concealed there. Therefore forget all about the papers if you can. Act as naturally as a little girl would going to visit her uncle. There must of course be a reason for your going and I have provided for that in this way. Quinine is a contraband article and highly prized in the South. This basket has a false bottom. Above is a lunch for your journey and underneath a quant.i.ty of quinine. You may get through without falling into the Confederates' hands but it is just as well to be prepared for emergencies, as you remarked last night. Should you happen to be taken by them and they question you too closely, finally confess about the quinine. It will be a point in your favor that you have smuggled it through the Union lines. Should they take it no matter. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly."
"I have secured transportation to Memphis, Tennessee," continued Mr.
Vance. "It brings you closer to New Orleans and leaves a shorter distance to be traversed by water. You will have to change cars twice. Once at Washington City which you can do easily as you have been there a number of times. The other is at Cincinnati, Ohio. Do you think you can manage it?"
"Why, of course I can," said Jeanne proudly. "It isn't as if I had never been anywhere."
"Yes, that makes a difference," a.s.sented her father. "Yet, my child, remember that before you have been accompanied by either your mother or me. Now you will have to rely entirely upon yourself. This is a letter for Commodore Porter who is a friend of mine, and who is somewhere on the Mississippi. Ask for him as soon as you reach Memphis. If he is not there there will be others on our side who will carry you down the river after reading the letter. If at any time you are in doubt what to do go to the hospitals. There are always women there who will gladly give whatever aid you may need. And here is money."
"Mother gave me some," interrupted Jeanne who had listened with the closest attention.
"Yes; that is in your purse, which is in the satchel, is it not?"
"Yes."
"Well, take this also. I had this bag made to hold it." He put a roll of bills into an oilskin bag and drew the cord so that the opening closed tightly together. "Wear that about your neck, child, and keep it hidden under your dress," he said. "Keep that always about you as a reserve fund.
So long as you have money you can get along pretty well. Take out what you need from time to time, carrying only a small amount in your purse.
Above all beware of talking too freely to strangers. Now for the final instructions: you are going to New Orleans to visit your Uncle Ben. When you reach there ask him to direct you to Mr. ------," here he whispered in her ear. "Speak that name to no person. When you have delivered the papers into his hands your duty is done. Stay with your uncle until you hear from me. I will write you how to come home. Now, Jeanne, I think that this is all I have to say. If anything should happen that these arrangements fail, don't run any danger but return home. You see that I am leaving a great deal to your judgment. Can you remember everything that I have said?"
"Yes. And you may be sure that I will do just as you tell me. It seems to me that everything has been thought of and that there is no chance of failing."
"Sometimes the best laid plans are thwarted," said her father gravely. "It may not be a very wise thing to send my daughter on such an errand, but you are such a sensible little thing that I feel as if you would succeed."
"I will," said Jeanne determinedly. "I want to be worthy of my name, father. Did not another Jeanne not much older than I lead the Dauphin of France to a crown? Surely then I can do this thing which is small in comparison."
"I am afraid we did wrong in giving you such a name," remarked her father smilingly. "How full of the martial spirit you are, Jeanne. I believe that you would undertake the capture of Jeff Davis if I asked you to."
"I would," exclaimed the girl with a look that boded ill for the rebel president. "Perhaps we will try it yet."
"We will get through this affair first, my dear. Here we are at the station. We'll have to make a run for that train."
They had taken a ferry during the conversation and by this time had reached Jersey City. Running through the gates they boarded the train just as the signal was given to pull out.
"My little girl, good-bye," murmured Mr. Vance, clasping her to him for a brief second. "G.o.d bless and keep you, Jeanne. May He bring you safely back. Be brave," he added, as he saw Jeanne's lips quivering.
"I will," sobbed Jeanne, breaking down completely as her father started away. "Oh, father, kiss me just once more."
"Is it too much for you, my little girl?" Mr. Vance held her closely. "You need not go, Jeanne."
"I want to. I am all right," gasped Jeanne, controlling herself by an effort. "Now go, father, dear. See how brave I am."
She smiled up at him through her tears. Mr. Vance regarded her anxiously.
"Go," whispered Jeanne as the train began to move. Hastily her father left her. Jeanne leaned from the window and waved her hand as long as she could see him. But soon the train rounded a curve and he was lost to view.
Then leaning back in her seat she gave herself up to her tears.
CHAPTER IV
A TIMELY RENEWAL OF ACQUAINTANCE
Jeanne sobbed unrestrainedly for some time. A sense of forlornness oppressed her, and the magnitude of the task she had undertaken weighed upon her spirits. As Mr. Vance had said she had never traveled alone before, and now that she had actually started upon the journey a thousand fears a.s.sailed her. The idea of being engaged upon a mission that involved something of risk had seemed a n.o.ble thing, and easy of accomplishment in her own home. Here, lacking the sustaining presence of her parents, and the relaxation after the excitement of the day, made the enterprise seem formidable indeed. So absorbed was she in her meditations that she had not noticed the other occupants of the coach, but presently there was borne in upon her senses the sound of singing.
"Oh, what is it?" she exclaimed with a nervous start.
"Some soldiers on their way to Washington," answered a lady who sat behind her.
Jeanne's interest was aroused at once, and she looked about her. In the rear of the car were a number of soldiers clad in blue. They seemed in high spirits and were singing l.u.s.tily:
"'Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, We'll rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of freedom; We will rally from the hillside, We will rally from the plain, Shouting the battle cry of freedom.'"
"They are going to the war with a song upon their lips, perhaps to be killed, while I am afraid because I am alone," mused Jeanne, her lip curling in self-contempt. "I don't believe that girls amount to much after all."
"'We are marching to the field, boys, Going to the fight, Shouting the battle cry of freedom!
And we'll bear the glorious Stars Of the Union and the Right, Shouting the battle cry of freedom.'"
"I will be brave," and the girl sat up very straight. "I will not be afraid any more, for I, too, am battling for the right. I am just as truly serving my country as they are, and I will be just as brave. Besides, father would be sorry if he knew that I felt so bad."
Drying her eyes she listened attentively to the soldiers as they sang, one after another, the martial airs that had become so popular since the breaking out of the war. After a little time they struck up "The Star Spangled Banner," and then there followed a scene that the girl never forgot. Men, women and children caught the enthusiasm and, rising to their feet, joined in the song. Jeanne sang too, as she had never sung before.
The words held a new meaning for her. She felt once more an exaltation of spirit and a kinship with these brave fellows who were willing to give their lives for their country. What was danger, disease or life itself, if she could be of service in ever so small a way?
""Tis the Star Spangled Banner, O long may it wave O'er the land of the free And the home of the brave.'"
A mighty shout went up as the final chorus was rendered, and three cheers for the flag were given with a vim that mingled musically with the rush and roar of the train. Flushed and breathless Jeanne sank back into her seat, her eyes shining, her cheeks glowing, her whole being thrilled with patriotic fervor. She was no longer fearful and lonely, but eager and ready to do and dare all things needful for the success of her mission.
And so when Washington was reached the girl took up her satchel with quite the air of an old traveler and, accosting an official, asked about her train with the utmost self-possession.
She had but a short time to wait before she was once more flying across the country en route for Cincinnati. The night pa.s.sed without incident.
The journey was tiresome but so uneventful that she became imbued with confidence in her ability to travel alone and made her change to the Memphis and Charleston Railroad for Memphis at Cincinnati without trouble.
The day had been very warm and as Jeanne took her seat in the coach she heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the sun sinking to his rest.
"It will be cooler now," she said to herself, settling comfortably back in the cushions. "I am glad that I have the seat to myself."
But to her dismay at the next station a rough-looking man entered the car and took possession of the seat beside her. The girl looked intently out of the window, after her first glance at the fellow, inwardly hoping that his journey would not be a long one. For some time the man did not pay any attention to her, then he turned abruptly and said:
"Do you want that window down?"
"No; thank you," returned Jeanne adopting the manner she had seen her mother use towards people of whom she did not approve.
The man eyed her narrowly, but the girl preserved her composure under his scrutiny.