Altsheler, Joseph A. – Civil War 03. Chapter 15
CHAPTER XV. THE SEVEN DAYS
Harry did not awaken until late the next morning. Jackson, for once, allowed his soldiers a long rest, and they were entitled to it. When he rose from his blankets, he found fires burning, and the pleasant odor of coffee, bacon and other food came to his nostrils. Many wounded were stretched on blankets, but, as usual, they were stoics, and made no complaint.
The army, in truth, was joyous, even more, it was exultant. Every one had the feeling that he had shared in mighty triumphs, unparalleled exploits, but they gave the chief credit to their leader, and they spoke admiringly and affectionately of Old Jack. The whole day was passed in luxury long unknown to them. They had an abundance of food, mostly captured, and their rations were not limited.
The Acadian band reappeared and played with as much spirit as ever, and once more the dark, strong men of Louisiana, clasped in one another’s arms, danced on the grass. Harry sat with St. Clair, Happy Tom and Dalton and watched them.
“I was taught that dancing was wicked,” said Dalton, “but it doesn’t look wicked to me, and I notice that the general doesn’t forbid it.”
“Wicked!” said St. Clair, “why, after we take Washington, you ought to come down to Charleston and see us dance then. It’s good instead of wicked. It’s more than that. It’s a thing of beauty, a grace, a joy, almost a rite.”
“All that Arthur says is true,” said Happy Tom. “I’m a Sea Islander myself, but we go over to Charleston in the winter. Still, I think you’ll have to do without me at those dances, Arthur. I shall probably be kept for some time in the North, acting as proconsul for Pennsylvania or Massachusetts.”
“Which way do you think we are going from here, Harry?” asked St. Clair. “I don’t think it’s possible for General Jackson to stay longer than twenty-four hours in one place, and I know that he always goes to you for instructions before he makes any movement.”
“That’s so. He spoke to me this morning asking what he ought to do, but I told him the troops needed a rest of one day, but that he mustn’t make it more than one day or he’d spoil ’em.”
Happy Tom, who was lying on the ground, sat up abruptly.
“If ever you hear of Old Stonewall spoiling anybody or anything,” he said, “just you report it to me and I’ll tell you that it’s not so.”
“I believe,” said Dalton, “that we’re going to leave the valley. Both Shields and Fremont are still retreating. Our cavalry scouts brought in that word this morning. We’ve heard also that Johnston and McClellan fought a big battle at a place called Seven Pines, and that after it McClellan hung back, waiting for McDowell, whom Old Jack has kept busy. General Johnston was wounded at Seven Pines and General Robert Edward Lee is now in command of our main army.”
“That’s news! It’s more! It’s history!” exclaimed St. Clair. “I think you’re right, Harry. Two to one that we go to Richmond. And for one I’ll be glad. Then we’ll be right in the middle of the biggest doings!”
“I’m feeling that way, too,” said Happy Tom. “But I know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Not a soul in all this army, except Old Jack himself, will know a thing about it, until it’s done, and maybe we won’t know very much then. I passed Old Jack about an hour ago and he saw me as clearly and plainly as I see you, but he did not tell me a thing about his plans. He did not even say a word. Did not speak. Just cut me dead.”
Not one of the four was destined for some days to learn what Jackson intended. His highest officers even were kept in the same ignorance. While the bulk of the army did little, the cavalry under Munford, who had succeeded Ashby, were exceedingly active. The horsemen were like a swarm of hornets in front of Jackson, and so great was their activity that the Northern leaders were unable to gauge their numbers. Fremont, exposed to these raids, retreated farther down the valley, leaving two hundred of his wounded and many stores in the hands of Munford.