Traveller (42 page)

Pretty soon we spotted some Blue men a ways off. And would you believe it? Colonel Marshall rode off and began
talking
to them! There warn't one of ‘em even looked like he was going to shoot, but jest then I heared the bangs start up again. And those, Tom—though o' course I never guessed it at the time—those was the very last bangs I was ever to hear from that day to this.

Jest at that moment an officer I knowed by sight—one of Old Pete's staff officers, a man with only one arm—came dashing towards us on his horse from round the bend in the road behind. And I've never, before or since, seed a horse rode so desperate hard as that. She was a real beautiful mare, and she was going sech a lick that she went on a considerable ways past us before she could be pulled up at all. Poor thing, she looked half-dead as they turned and come back to us. I reckon it may very likely have injured her for life.

Marse Robert, who was always real considerate for horses, as I've often told you, he shouts out to the officer, good and strong, that he shouldn't never have ridden his mare that way. And ‘twas while the officer was replying to Marse Robert that it suddenly came over me what must ‘a happened—why he'd ridden his mare that way and what his news must be. There
could
be only one reason. The Blue men had finally quit!
That
was why we was out ‘tween the lines with no one firing at us! We'd done it! The Blue men was beat! Marse Robert had knowed it, of course, but now they'd sent, theirselves, to say so, and this officer had brung Marse Robert the message!
That
was what the white cloth on a stick was for—to show we knowed we'd won. And sure ‘nuff, there was Colonel Marshall up ahead, telling some of ‘em what they had to do.

For a start I couldn't rightly take it in. I felt dazed. As we stood there, I could see more of those people—quite a crowd—a-coming up the road. I guess they must a wanted to be took prisoner, but Marse Robert, he wouldn't have nothing to do with ‘em. He jest turned and rode me back, quite slow and easy, to where Old Pete was waiting with our fellas on the line of battle.

Well, ‘course, after all this time I don't remember all the details, Tom, and you wouldn't want to be hearing ‘em anyways. But I do remember Marse Robert hitching me up in an orchard a little ways back, and then laying down hisself to take a rest on a pile of fence rails. He must ‘a felt jest like I did, I reckon—kind of dumbfounded with what had happened.

After a while Major Talcott and Joker came up to where we was at.

“Ain't this jolly, Traveller?” says Joker when he was hitched beside me. “‘Won't be nothing to do, will there? We'll have to go and pull cabs in the big city.”

“I'd never thought of that!” I said. “You mean the Army'll be disbanded? Oh, I'm going to miss you, Joker! I really am.”

“You want to thank your stars the Blue men missed you,” said Joker.

Jest then Major Talcott came back for him, and off they went to organize a ring of soldiers round the orchard so Marse Robert and me could have some peace and quiet. Only you see, Tom, the big news seemed to be spreading fast and there was all sorts of fellas hanging around who evidently wanted to come and talk to Marse Robert ‘bout it. But natcherly he didn't want to be disturbed. We was going to have work to do later on.

There warn't no noise, no commotion at all. News like this was plainly beyond all cheering. Me, I felt sort of subdued. After a while a Blue man—an officer—came riding up—everyone let him alone—with one of our fellas ‘longside him to make sure he didn't get up to no tricks. Old Pete asked Marse Robert should he kick his arse—at least, I think that's what he must ‘a said—but Marse Robert, he says no, he'll hear whatever it is he wants to tell him. And so he did, and I have to say that the man spoke and acted civil ‘nuff.

So then we set off again, Tom, jest three of us this time—Colonel Marshall, Sergeant Tucker and Marse Robert. I couldn't imagine where we was a-going to; but not to no fighting, that was plain ‘nuff. This Blue fella, he rode ‘long with us. I talked a while with his horse on the way and he seemed a nice ‘nuff animal. He told me he hadn't been long with the Army, ‘didn't understand much ‘bout it at all, but if'n it really was finished, like I said, he hisself would be only too glad.

Colonel Marshall, he'd gone on up ahead. We came to a stream, and soon as I smelt the water I realized I was as thirsty as a whole pack of mules after a day's march. Now would you credit it, Tom? At a time like this, when we was off to larn those people their manners and he had everything else in the world to be thinking ‘bout, Marse Robert drew rein and waited till I'd drunk all I wanted. Yes, he did. After that we went on.

We came to a house—jest an ordinary house, like plenty of others, with a flight of steps, some pillars and a verandah with a balcony above. Marse Robert dismounted in the yard and walked up the steps, while Tucker took me and Champ off round the side. He found a place in the shade and settled hisself there, long with the two of us and Colonel Marshall's horse, Mercury. Everything was quite quiet and peaceful— ‘twas a fine afternoon—and soon I'd near'bouts forgot what we was there for. A good horse never has no problem loafing, you know.

After some considerable time we heared a whole bunch of horsemen coming. They was all Blue men—you could smell that as they came close. The officers must ‘a dismounted in front of the house, ‘cause the soldiers—some of ‘em—led the horses round to where we was at. I noticed that Tucker didn't talk to the soldiers, so I took my lead from him, and didn't set out to talk to the horses neither. There was one black horse, I remember, pulled up ‘longside me; he told me his name was Cincinnati. He acted quite easy and sociable—you couldn't dislike him. I acted the same, which was what I felt Marse Robert would want. But pretty soon his soldier led him off a ways, so we was left by ourselves again. We was free to graze, and I remember the dratted flies was a nuisance. ‘Twas coming on to summer, you see.

I reckon we was a-waiting round till pretty well halfway through the afternoon—quite a while—but still Marse Robert hadn't come out. I know what he's doing, I thought. He's giving them Blue men a real good piece of his mind. And I sure know one thing he
ain't
saying, this time. “Well, gentlemen, what ought we to do?”

‘Twas well past the heat of the day, and me and Champ was stood head to tail, a-swishing away, when at last I heared Marse Robert's voice, from round the front, calling, “Orderly! Orderly!” I didn't recognize it for a moment—he sounded kinda gruff and a bit choky. I guess he must ‘a been pretty tired after taking all that time to tell those Blue generals ‘zackly what he thought of ‘em. Tucker answered him quick as a flash, though. He led me round to the foot of the steps and put on my bridle. Marse Robert hisself drew my forelock out from under the browband, parted it and smoothed it down, so I looked as smart as I ought to. It reminded me of the young fella who'd left one of his trouser legs outside his boot. We warn't goin' to have none of that, not riding away from those people. Then Marse Robert mounted up, and Tucker and Colonel Marshall, too.

Jest at that moment one of the Blue men—somehow I got the feeling he must be an important fella—walked down the steps from the porch, stopped in his tracks and took off his hat to Marse Robert. As we set off, there was a whole chance of Blue men standing all around, and every single one of ‘em took off his hat. And I should durned well think so, too! I thought. That'll be something for ‘em all to remember when they get home. ‘Twas the proudest moment of my life, Tom—and of Marse Robert's, too, I'm sure ‘nuff.

I couldn't help wondering—and I've often wondered since—jest what Marse Robert could have been saying to those people for all that time. But I guess he told ‘em straight out that if'n they didn't pack up and go home right away we'd be ‘bliged to set to and blow ‘em all into the middle of next winter, jest like we had in the snow and jest like we had in the forest; and they'd better get that and get it good. It took so long, I s'pose, ‘cause they must ‘a been trying to persuade him to alter some of the particulars and let ‘em down easy. I've often imagined in my mind, since then, those Blue men sitting there, in that house, and dickering with Marse Robert, realizing their big mistake and that this was the reckoning come round at last; and Marse Robert jest sat there, kind and quiet like he always was, telling ‘em firmly that things had got to be jest like he said. Well, the job was done good and proper, that's for sure. When he came out, they hadn't ‘nother word to say, an' that I seed for myself.

We rode along nice and steady, me and Marse Robert in front this time, and came up the hillside, through our pickets and back into our lines. Marse Robert plainly warn't fixing to be high an' mighty ‘bout what he'd done—that warn't never his way. I could feel him sitting upright, not moving in the saddle, looking straight ahead and determined to avoid a lot of fuss. Me, I jest kept going, like he wanted.

But ‘course our fellas, they warn't going to let us get away with that. They commenced to cheering. They cheered considerable—jest like they had after the battle in the woods, two years before. Then they broke ranks and come a-crowding round us. I tried to go on—that was what Marse Robert wanted—but they pressed round hard, shouting “General! General!” and grabbing at us from all sides.

Marse Robert took off his hat, and I tried some gentle pushing and shoving, but no way. I had to give it up—the road was jammed solid. Marse Robert reined me in and began talking to the fellas. I managed to get some of it. “Men, I have done the best I could for you…. You will all go home….”

At that, some of the fellas actually began crying for joy. Others seemed sort of dazed and bewildered. I remember one soldier shouting “Blow, Gabriel, blow!” and throwing his musket down on the ground. “Blow” means “go away,” “go home,” Tom, you know. Gabriel must ‘a been his buddy, I s'pose. People was catching a-holt of Marse Robert's hands, his coat, his boots—anything at all. Those who couldn't do that grabbed at me, stroked my nose, patted my neck and my flanks. We was jest surrounded. I can smell them now. They smelt what you'd call pungent.

You'll reckon I must ‘a been thinking how fine it all was—that this was the grand reward for all them hours hungry in the mud and snow, all them nights on the march, all those bullets zipping past your ears and shells bursting round your hooves. But ‘tell you the truth, Tom, all I was thinking at the time was I could do with a feed and a rest. I'd had as much as I could take. I'd knowed since the morning that we'd won, and now I was suffering a kind of a letdown. I felt ready to fair go to pieces.

We came back to the orchard at last. Marse Robert dismounted and commenced to walking up and down under the trees. He didn't show it, but I guess he must ‘a been in such high cotton he couldn't keep still. I was roped nearby, so I jest put in some more grazing. Pretty soon, little groups of Blue men began coming up and speaking mighty polite to the headquarters majors—'far as I could make out, begging to be ‘lowed to pay their respects to Marse Robert. Marse Robert, though, he wouldn't have nothing to do with ‘em—what did they ‘spect, the durned fools? He simply drew hisself up and glared at them. Some of ‘em had the impudence to come up close and take off their hats. Marse Robert jest touched the rim of his hat back. ‘Course, he warn't going to lower hisself to cuss at them. He jest wanted to get rid of ‘em quick as he could. I don't know, maybe they wanted to make sure he knowed they'd hollered ‘nuff after the licking they'd had. Anyways, they was politely showed off.

Jest the same, they did do some good, those people. They carried out the orders Marse Robert must ‘a given that they was to hand us over an elegant sufficiency of their own rations. The rations arrived by the wagonload, and you should jest have seed those people handing them out to our fellas, polite and mannerly as you please! There was even some laughing and joking ‘tween ‘em! Looking at ‘em, I thought, That's the difference between our outfit and theirs. We'd been ready to give all we had—to starve, to go sleepless for days, to march without boots, to lie in rags in the rain. The Blue men, they looked like they'd jest walked out of some fine lady's house after a dinner party. Call those people soldiers? I thought. No wonder they've been beat.

It was nigh on sunset when Marse Robert bridled me up hisself and rode about a mile back to headquarters. All the way, as we went, there was folks rushing from each side of the road—two solid walls of our fellas, cheering and yelling. That Yell—I couldn't believe I was hearing it for the last time. I did my best to live up to the occasion— to do Marse Robert credit, like I reckoned I always had. I kept tossing my head, looking to one side and t'other and picking up my hooves like we was on full-dress parade. The fellas was shouting, “Bless you! Bless you, General Lee!” And I even heared that special word they'd called out two years before, when the woods was on fire—”Surrendered, General! Surrendered!”

When we reached headquarters—someone seemed to have found our tents by now—even Marse Robert couldn't entirely keep from tears. ‘Course, ‘twas the relief and the reaction. He spoke to as many of the fellas as he could, shook hands with ‘em and all that, but in the end he finally took off his hat one last time and went into his tent. Good old Dave led me away for the biggest feed of oats I'd had in months— they was Blue oats, I guess—'much as I could eat and more.

I slept pretty sound that night, Tom, I can tell you. But not as sound as we'll sleep now, in this dry straw, under a roof; ‘cause before morning it commenced to rain, and by first light the rain was falling steady. Still, never mind ‘bout that for now. Let's go to sleep. ‘Nother time I'll tell you how we came away, and how we finally fetched up here.