3. CHAPTER III.
THE EVE OF BATTLE.
The sun resembled a great blood-red ball of fire as seen
through the vapor that curtained the Eastern horizon. But
the air was motionless, and the booming of the morning gun
at the arsenal, reverberated far up the valley of the Potomac;
and the screams of peacocks could be distinctly heard
from the villas on the surrounding heights, betokening, as
was believed by the curious villagers, the speedy advent of
foul weather.
At that early hour an individual rode along the main
street of Georgetown, whose long drab coat, reaching down
to his heels when standing on terra firma, now, by reason
of the diminutive stature of the animal he bestrode, nearly
brushed the earth. And the pony being very black, the
contrast was so distinct, if not ludicrous, as to attract the
attention and elicit the gibes of the servant girls who
awaited the baker and milkman at the doors of the dwellings.
But Wiry Will was not disturbed by such exhibitions
of innocent curiosity. He proceeded on his way,
without looking to the right or the left, until he turned a
corner and dismounted in front of an humble wooden tenement,
inclosed with whitewashed palings, and scented with
every variety of bud and blossom and creeper that gladden
the senses in the balmy month of May. We need not premise
that one of the inhabitants of that lowly abode was a
tasteful maiden. But we can testify that the heart of Willy
palpitated most violently when he beheld the mistress of
that paradise in the little front area, watering the flowers,
for she had already discovered that no dew that night had
fallen from heaven.
“Mary,” said Wiry Willy, throwing the reins over a
post at the gate, “I have not come to annoy you with the
old story. It is business with your grandpa—business of
the utmost importance—a matter of life and death.”
“Oh, the scene of yesterday! It is concerning that.
But enter, Willy. Grandpa told me not to disturb him
until breakfast was served. He is examining some papers
which the new Secretary permitted him to bring home.
And, Willy, I said the old story was not annoying to me—
but to him. I have promised obedience, as was my duty,
and—must perform it—while he lives. And when he is
gone, I shall have no one on earth to—”
“Mary, I am yours till death. Your grandfather may
command you to wed General Ruffleton—and you may be his
—but I am thine. I will watch over you, protect you, die for
you—for I well know that Ruffleton will not be your friend!”
“I fear he will not, and he knows I fear it. His jewels
and fine coaches and mansions, would have no attractions
for me, equal to the humble dwelling of my grandpa—or—
I will say it, Willy—the plain farm-house of your grandma,
near the Brandywine.” And it needed not the pearls that
stood on the long, black lashes of the beautiful girl, to bear
witness to the sincerity of her declaration. “But, Willy,”
she asked, placing her little hand on his arm, “what is this
about life and death?”
“Oh, Mary, I had forgotten it! I must be brief, and
return to my duty. I must hasten away. There is danger,
Mary, and that is all I am permitted to say, for the greatest
calamity would be a panic among the people. Your grandfather
calls. Let us go together.”
They entered a small parlor, where the gaunt, grey, and
palsied old John Penford sat before a table covered with
tape-tied files of papers brought from the War Department,
where his duties as a lower class clerk had been diligently
performed, with a single brief intermission, for the space
of fifty years. Peering through his spectacles a moment at
the visitor, he arose abruptly and extended his hand, which
was heartily grasped.
“Mary, bring hither my journal,” he said, turning to his
daughter. “It was for that I called you. I want to see if
I made any note of Mr. Grubb's claim against the United
States. Now, sit you down, William Wire,” addressing
the visitor upon the withdrawal of Mary. “You are my
kinsman. Your mother and I were second cousins—”
“My grandmother, you mean,” said Willy.
“Yes—your father's mother. How the time passes!
And yet I recollect everything. Your father and mother
died of the epidemic. And your grandmother—does she
still live?”
“Certainly, sir. You were her guest last winter, when
they removed you from office.”
“True, true! I had forgotten it. But occurrences of
fifty years ago seem as recent as yesterday. Well, William
Wire, you may live to see your kinsman a Cabinet Minister!
General Ruffleton will surely be President! Be a good
boy, and you shall have the post I now hold. Ha! ha! ha!
Family connexions, in our Republic, as in other governments,
sometimes wield a vast influence.”
“But, sir, I have come to announce the certain and
instant dissolution of the Union.”
“Impossible! I tell you it is a nonsensical impossibility!
It is a mere scarecrow! A humbug, sir! I have heard
such threats before. Don't name it, sir! It is a treason,
and I am a sworn officer of the Government. I have taken
an oath to support the Constitution, as well as the President,
and we
will support it, sir. Disunion! Impossible, sir!
And now, William, I have a great secret for you. In two
or three days you will again see my name in the papers. I
am on the eve of a discovery which would do any officer
honor. I am going to produce such documents as will
establish the claim of Grubb against the Government for
cannon furnished the army seventy or eighty years ago!
These papers were sent up to Little Falls, when the British
came, and have never been untied since then, until I overhauled
them! I have calculated the amount of the claim
with interest—and it must be paid. So much for the vigilance
of a faithful officer.”
“But, sir, I fear the establishment of such a claim against
the Government, may not be considered meritorious conduct.”
“What do you mean? Can figures lie? These figures,
and facts, and the records, prove this demand to be just.
What difference can it make whether it is for or against the
government? Does it not prove in either case the capability
of the officer?”
“Very true, sir; but merit is not always followed by promotion,
else you would have been at the top of the ladder
long ago.”
“That is a verity, William,” said the old man, rubbing
his hands with delight. “But family influence can accomplish
anything. I shall mount up—never fear! And you,
William Wire, where are you? Before this strange malady
seized you—and all about my Mary—they sent you to the
Legislature. Foolish boy! why did you fall in love, go
mad, and resign. You might have come to Congress, been
Governor, a Cabinet Minister, and finally President! I wish
I were a young man again!”
“My dear, sir,” said Willy, looking up, his head having
fallen on his breast, “this is no time for such speculations.
I came to request that you would not go to the Department
this morning. The President himself says there will probably
be disturbance and danger.”
“Does he say so officially? Does he order the Departments
to be closed? It is not in the official organ.”
“No, sir. But he told me so.”
“Impossible. All folly. They may threaten—and that
is all. Abandon my post without official orders? Not I.
Why the most essential document in the Grubb case is in a
pigeon-hole of my office! I have been in pursuit of it for
twenty years. To-day my eyes will be gladdened by the
consummation of my great achievement.”
“I beg that you will stay away till noon—if no longer.”
“I shall do no such thing!”
“Sir, you will be in danger. You may lose your life.”
“Impossible. But I must not lose my claim for the
cannon which won our liberty.”
“Your papers cannot be molested, but—”
“How do you know that? If the enemy would destroy
the officer, of course they would take possession of the office.
I shall not permit my duties to be interfered with.”
“My dear sir, the rabble that may attempt to carry away
the archives, would not respect the Secretary, or the President
himself, much less an old and faithful officer like yourself.”
“Seizing the archives! Good heaven! Mary! Mary!
Hurry breakfast. Carry off the archives! Not while
breath is in the body of John Penford! He'll die at his
post. Sit down, sir!”
“No. I must depart immediately. Think of what I
have said.” And Willy, seeing Mary again among the
flowers, rejoined her there. “Farewell, Mary,” said he,
sadly. “But be sure and keep your grandpa at home till
noon.”
“Oh, Willy, they would not injure him!”
“Not intentionally. But a bullet or a cannon ball is no
respecter of persons.”
“God can direct the course of a cannon ball, as well as
avert the lightning. In him we put our trust! I will dissuade
him, Willy, if possible; but if not, I will accompany
him!”
“No! Do not, I beseech you, Mary! Breathe it not to
any one—but there will be a battle—and oh, keep beyond
the reach of destruction.”
“And, Willy, where shall such a place be found! Yes, it
is in heaven—and only there. Adieu!”
Willy mounted his pony, with moistened eyes, and sped
away. He had scarcely passed the last house in the town
before a clatter of hoofs attracted his attention. Lifting his
eyes he beheld a horseman under whip and spur riding
towards him. It was a young man he had seen more than
once at the White House. “Halt!” he cried.
The young man reined in his steed and grasped the pistol
half hidden in his side-pocket.
“Don't shoot me,” said Willy; “I'm a friend.”
“Then make it known,” said the other.
“Oh, I'm on the right side—that is, I'm in the centre,
with the President.”
“Then make it known, sir! I have no time for jesting.”
“I forgot. The Union for ever!”
“That will do,” replied the young man, relinquishing the
pistol and extending his hand. “Now what have you to
say?”
“You go to Col. Carleton in the valley?”
“Yes. He has two hundred and fifty dragoons concealed
there.”
“Is he to move immediately?”
“I am not to know the order. But orders have been
dispatched to all troops, in every direction, to concentrate in
the President's grounds behind the Treasury building.
Adieu.”
“Farewell, sir,” said Willy, “and may God prosper the
right!” And as Willy proceeded on his way, he observed,
on the opposite side of the river, a body of infantry, perhaps
one hundred and fifty in number, slowly approaching the
southern end of the bridge.
Every preparation had been completed by the President
to repel any assault on the Executive Departments; and so
skilfully had the arrangements been made under the immediate
superintendence of Gen. Valiant, that none of the
inhabitants of the city had the remotest idea that within an
hour an army of 4,000 well-drilled men could be mustered
in their defence. The President himself had a caparisoned
steed in readiness, resolved, in the capacity of Commander-in-Chief,
to take the field. None of his predecessors had
practically illustrated that prerogative conferred by the
Constitution. But Randolph acted from his convictions of
duty, irrespective of precedents, and none doubted his
qualifications to become a great military commander.
