Читать книгу A Daughter of the Union - Lucy Foster Madison - Страница 5

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For a time affairs went on in their usual way, and the girls contented themselves with hemming towels and handkerchiefs and making socks. That is, all the girls save Jeanne Vance. With her the desire was stronger than ever to do something more than she had done.

“What makes you so thoughtful, Jeanne?” asked her father one evening looking up from his paper. “You are as still as a mouse. Come, and tell me all about it.”

“It’s the country,” said Jeanne settling herself comfortably on his lap and laying her head on his shoulder. “I was thinking about our army and how much there was to be done for it.”

“I am afraid that you think too much about the war,” observed her father soberly. “It is not good for you.”

“I can’t help it, father. Dick’s letters make me, and the work that you and mother do keeps it always before me. I am the only one who doesn’t do much.”

“I am sure that you carried that fair through admirably, and have made a number of articles for the soldiers. Best of all you are looking after yourself so well that your mother and I can devote our whole time to the cause. And that is a great deal, my little girl.”

“But I should like to do something else,” persisted Jeanne. “It doesn’t seem as if I were helping one bit.”

“Very few of us can see the result of our labors. If you were in the army it would be the same way. A soldier often has to obey orders for which he can see no reason, but his disobedience might cause the loss of a battle. We are all of us part of a great whole striving for the same end. If each one does his part all will be well. If every little girl in the country would do as much as you are doing, the amount of work accomplished would be startling.”

“If I were a boy I could do more,” sighed Jeanne. “It is very hard to be ‘only a girl,’ father.”

Mr. Vance laughed.

“But since you are one, Jeanne, try to be contented. I am very thankful for my daughter if she is ‘only a girl.’ ”

“You are troubled too,” observed Jeanne presently, noting a look of anxiety on her father’s face.

“Yes, child; I am.”

“Could you tell me about it, father? Perhaps it would help you. I feel ever so much better since I have talked with you.”

“I am afraid that you cannot help me, child. If only Dick were here,” and he sighed.

“Could I if I were a boy?” asked the girl, wistfully.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Vance unthinkingly. “If you were a boy, Jeanne, with the same amount of brightness and common sense that you now have, I would be strongly tempted to send you forth on some private business.”

“Oh, father!” Jeanne sat bolt upright. “Send me anyway. I am sure that I could do it just as well as a boy.”

“But this would necessitate a journey into the enemy’s country. A bright boy could go through all right if he would exercise his wits, but a tender, delicate girl like you! Why, I couldn’t think of it!”

“I could do just as well as a boy,” declared Jeanne with conviction. “I am sure that I could. Please let me try, father.”

“I am sorry that I spoke of it, child. I will tell you just what the service is, and you will see the impossibility of any girl undertaking it. In the cities both North and South there are men whose duty it is to look after certain private matters for the government. In our communications with each other we must be very guarded. We do not dare to risk even the mails, because in almost every department of the service there are traitors. In some mysterious manner the enemy becomes aware of all our plans. Therefore we have tried and trusted men who are our go betweens. On some occasions we have employed boys because they could pass through the lines of the armies without being suspected of carrying important information. But as it is a hazardous business we use the boys only when there is no one else to send. Just at present our men are all out, and even the few boys who are ordinarily available are not on hand. That is why I spoke as I did.”

“Where would the boy have to go?” queried Jeanne, who had listened attentively.

“To New Orleans, dear. It is a long distance, and would be a perilous journey. You see, Jeanne, how I am trusting you. You will be careful not to repeat anything I say.”

“I understand perfectly, father. You need not fear when you tell me anything. You could not be useful if others knew of your affairs.”

“That is it precisely, my daughter.”

“Is the errand important, father?”

“Very.” Mr. Vance thought she saw the impossibility of going and therefore spoke more freely than he otherwise would have done. “I ought to send a messenger not later than day after to-morrow with the documents, but I fear that I shall have to let the matter rest until some of the men come in, and then it may be too late.”

“Father, doesn’t Uncle Ben live in New Orleans?”

“Yes, Jeanne; why?”

“Why couldn’t I go down to see him, and carry these papers hidden about me? The trains are still running, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” said her father thoughtfully; “but those in the Southern States are under Confederate control, you know.”

“Well, suppose I were to take the train from here to St. Louis,” mapping the route on her lap, “then from there I could go down the Mississippi on a steamboat. St. Louis is for the Union, and New Orleans belongs to us now too. I don’t see much danger in that, father.”

“It sounds all right, little girl. The only flaw lies in the fact that Vicksburg is not ours. If it were then the matter could be easily arranged.”

“Don’t you think that it will be ours soon, father?”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Mr. Vance with conviction. “With Farragut and Porter on the river and this new man Grant who is making such a record in charge of the land forces it will not be long before Vicksburg will share the fate of Forts Henry and Donelson and Island No. 10. Indeed,” added he, for Mr. Vance in common with many others held the view that the war could not be of long duration, “I feel sure that McClellan will soon enter Richmond and that will virtually close the war. It is only a question of days now before we shall see the end of this rebellion. The administration is of the same opinion, because it has ceased to enlist men for the army.”

“Then, father, it seems to me that there would be no risk in performing this service for you. I feel sure that I could carry your papers safely to New Orleans. It is not as if the country all belonged to the rebels. There would be only one place to pass that is theirs: Vicksburg. I know that our men can easily go by one place,” she added confidently.

“Your manner of taking hold of the matter almost persuades me to let you try it, Jeanne,” and Mr. Vance regarded his daughter with a new light in his eyes.

“Do,” said Jeanne as calmly as she could, realizing that if she would carry her point she must be very matter-of-fact. “You see, father, no one would suspect a girl of carrying papers.”

“I don’t know but that you are right, Jeanne. Still, I would not consider the thing for an instant if my need were not so great. Should the papers fall into the rebels’ hands, not only would they secure important information but they would also get the names of men whose death would pay the penalty of discovery.”

“I understand,” said the girl gravely. “But the rebels shall never get them, father. I will destroy them first. They must be concealed about my clothing in such a manner that even if I were searched they could not be discovered. Not that I think that I shall be,” she added hastily as a look of alarm flitted over her father’s face, “but it is just as well to be prepared for emergencies.”

“What are you two plotting?” asked Mrs. Vance entering the room. “You have been talking so earnestly that I thought that you were settling the affairs of the nation.”

“We have been,” answered Jeanne gaily. “I am going to New Orleans on business for father.”

“Oh, Richard,” came from Mrs. Vance in a wailing cry. “Not my girl too! I have given my boy! Leave me my daughter.”

“Mother!” Jeanne sprang to her outstretched arms where she was folded close to the mother’s heart. “You don’t understand. There is no danger. Who would harm a girl like me?”

“She shall not go, Dora, if you do not consent,” spoke Mr. Vance comfortingly. “My need for a messenger was so urgent that I spoke of it before Jeanne, and the little witch has beguiled me into thinking that she is the very one for the business.”

“Why of course I am,” cried Jeanne in decided tones. “Let’s sit down and talk it over.”

“I don’t like it,” said Mrs. Vance after the matter had been explained. “I am afraid that something will happen to you.”

“But, mother, what could happen? Even if I were to fall into the hands of the Confederates what could they do to me? Men don’t make war on girls.”

“I know that the Southern people are counted chivalrous,” answered Mrs. Vance, “but soldiers are usually rough fellows, and I would not like you to be brought into contact with them even though they were our own boys.”

“Dick is a soldier, and he isn’t a bit rough. They are all somebody’s sons, mother. I thought that you liked soldiers.”

“I do,” assented Mrs. Vance wearily, “but I don’t like the thought of sending you where there is a chance of fighting. No one knows what might happen.”

“Dick has to take a great many chances, and why should not I risk a little for my country? Wouldn’t you be willing to give your life for it, mother?”

“Yes; but––” began the mother.

“And I am your child,” cried Jeanne, kissing her. “I can’t help it, mother. It’s in the blood, and blood will tell, you know. Haven’t I heard you and father many a time relate what great things our ancestors did in the Revolution? Well, you really can’t expect anything else from their descendants.”

“I suppose not,” and Mrs. Vance stifled a sigh. “If it really would help you, Richard.”

“It really would, Dora. If Jeanne can carry these papers to New Orleans she is not only worth her weight in gold but she will do the government a great service. She is energetic, resourceful and self-reliant. I believe that she can get through without injury to herself or I should not consider the thing a moment. As she says, why should harm come to a girl? She would not be suspected where older people would be subjected to the most searching scrutiny. The more that I think of it, the more favorably does the idea strike me.”

“Then I must consent,” Mrs. Vance smiled faintly though her face was very white. “My country demands much of me, Richard.”

“It does, Dora. But please God when this rebellion is put down we shall have such peace as the country has never enjoyed. Let us hope for the best, dear.”

“When do I start, father?” broke in Jeanne.

“I think to-morrow night. The sooner the better. I will see about your transportation in the morning, and try to arrange to send you straight through. Now, little girl, you must say good-night because we must be up bright and early. There is a great deal to be done to-morrow.”

“Good-night,” said Jeanne obediently, and kissing each tenderly she retired to her room.