A Daughter of the Union Part 6

He went to New Orleans and engaged in business there long before I was born. Father hasn't heard from him for a number of years."

"Then isn't it rather queer for your father to choose such a time as this for you to pay him a visit?" queried Mr. Huntsworth keenly. "Now don't be alarmed, child," he added hastily as Jeanne looked up in a startled manner while the color mounted to cheek and brow. "I do not wish you to tell me any of your secrets if you have any. I presume that there are just and sufficient reasons for you to go or you would not be going. I merely wished to show you that over anxiety to reach your destination might subject you to suspicion. Also tell no one else that you have never seen your uncle. If you do, others beside myself will wonder why you have been sent to him at a time like this. You don't mind my telling you this, little girl, do you?"

"No, indeed," returned Jeanne warmly. "I am very glad that you did so.

Father says that one way to learn things is to listen to older people. But I will be truly glad to see Uncle Ben. Father has told me so much about him. He was his favorite brother, and my brother, d.i.c.k, is named for him and for father too. Richard Benjamin Vance."

Mr. Huntsworth's eyes twinkled, and he gave a low chuckle of appreciation.

"My dear," said he, "just answer every one who asks you questions in the way you have me, and you'll come out all right. Of course you would want to see your uncle under those circ.u.mstances." Again he chuckled and looked at her approvingly. "She knows that I am her friend," he mused, "yet she will not tell me why she is sent down here. That there is some reason for it I am convinced. A very remarkable girl!" Aloud he continued, "Here we are at Memphis, child. What shall you do now?"

"It is so near night that I guess that I'd better go to a hotel," said Jeanne. "That is what father always does first. Then to-morrow morning I want to find Commodore Porter. I have a letter for him."

"Porter is down the river with Farragut. I doubt if you will be able to find him. But we'll see in the morning. The thing to do is to get a good night's rest after this journey. Here is a cab for the Gayoso House. I always stop there. It is a good place, and overlooks the river. Have you ever seen the Mississippi before?"

"No," answered Jeanne trying to look about in the gathering darkness.

"It's a great river, isn't it?"

"None greater," answered Mr. Huntsworth enthusiastically. "Whichever side of this struggle holds it will be the winning side. It is the backbone of the rebellion, and the key to the whole situation."

"But we hold it, sir," said Jeanne earnestly. "My father says that now that Vicksburg is taken it will not be long before Richmond will fall and then the rebellion will be over."

"Pray G.o.d that your father may be right," said Mr. Huntsworth. "But I fear that he is mistaken. These Southerners are not so easily whipped.

Every inch of the Confederacy will have to be conquered before they will acknowledge themselves beaten. The North makes the same mistake as the South does. Each forgets that both are of the same Anglo-Saxon blood that never knows defeat. I fear the struggle will be a long and b.l.o.o.d.y one, all the more bitter for being waged between brothers."

"I hope that it will not be long," sighed Jeanne. "I shouldn't like for d.i.c.k to have to be away much longer."

"Is your brother in the army, my dear?"

"Yes, sir. Father works for the government, mother belongs to The Woman's Central Relief a.s.sociation, and I make socks and hem handkerchiefs for the soldiers, and----" she paused suddenly, conscious that she was about to speak of the object of her journey.

"And you hold fairs to tempt the shekels from the unwary, eh?" completed Mr. Huntsworth. "Well, you are certainly a patriotic family. This is the Gayoso House, child. It has been the resort of all the noted Southerners.

It is too dark for you to see the river, but you can hear its murmurings."

Jeanne leaned forward eagerly. The soft lapping of the water, as it beat against the foot of the bluff upon which the city stood, came gently to her ears.

"I wish I could see it," she exclaimed.

"You can in the morning. Meantime, let's get some supper. Here, boy," to a porter, "don't you see that we are waiting to be shown to the dining-room?"

"Yes, sah. Right dis way, sah," responded the negro, his ivories relaxing into a broad grin. "Glad ter see yer back, sah. We all's mighty sorry ter heah dat you is gwine ter go norf, sah."

"Who told you that I was going North, you black rascal?" demanded Mr.

Huntsworth. "I've been North. Have just gotten back. Here, take this, and tell that waiter to hurry up with that supper."

"Yes, sah. Thank ye, sah," answered the black pocketing the s.h.i.+nplaster slipped into his hand, with alacrity.

"I think I never saw so many negroes before," remarked Jeanne, looking about the dining-room. "Where do they all come from?"

"You'll see a great many more before you go back to New York," responded Mr. Huntsworth. "The South literally teems with them. If the race only knew its power it would not leave its battles to be fought by the North.

A while ago I said the Mississippi was the key to the rebellion. I was mistaken. It is dar-key."

Jeanne laughed merrily.

"My dear child, did you see the point?" cried the old gentleman delightedly. "That is indeed an accomplishment! Now my daughter, Anne, is a good girl. An excellent girl, but she not only cannot make a pun, but neither can she see one when it is made. I have a little weakness that way myself."

"We used to, d.i.c.k, father and I, to make them at home. But we did it so much that mother stopped us. She said that it wasn't refined--I am sure that I beg your pardon," she broke off in great distress.

"There! Don't take it so to heart," laughed Mr. Huntsworth good-naturedly.

"I know that it isn't just the thing to pun, but

"'A little nonsense now and then Is relished by the best of men.'

"Then, too, we have the example of the immortal Shakespeare. But I won't indulge again before you, my dear."

"Oh, but I like them," cried Jeanne. "I think mother stopped us because we did nothing else for a time. But she used to laugh at some of them herself. She did, truly."

"Well, well, of course if you enjoy them that is another thing. Perhaps you can tell when a boy is not a boy."

"I can beat any sort of a drum but a conundrum," was Jeanne's quick reply.

"My, my, but I shall have to look to my laurels," exclaimed Mr. Huntsworth in mock alarm. "That was very bright."

"It's d.i.c.k's," confessed Jeanne blus.h.i.+ng. "He is so clever. He could always think of something good to say."

"You think a great deal of d.i.c.k, don't you?"

"Yes, sir; we are very proud of him. And his Colonel has complimented him twice for bravery," and Jeanne's eyes lighted up with pride. "He went at the first call for troops. I'll never forget the day he asked father if he might go. 'It's our country's need, father,' he said, standing there so brave and handsome. 'No Vance has ever turned a deaf ear to that, sir.'

And father said, 'My son, if you feel it your duty, go, and G.o.d be with you.' O, you should see d.i.c.k, sir," she continued, enthusiastically.

"There is no one quite like him."

"Perhaps I may some day. I should like to very much. I do not wonder at his bravery since every one of you are so devoted to the cause. Now, my little girl, you had best retire. I am sure that you must be tired."

Jeanne rose instantly and, bidding him good-night, was shown to her room.

She was up bright and early the next morning, and, dressing quickly ran down the stairs and out on the gallery eager to take a look at the city.

The Gayoso House fronted upon a wide esplanade which extended along the bluff in front of the town. Blocks of large warehouses and public buildings bordered the esplanade on the same side as the hotel. The city was beautifully situated on the Mississippi River just below the mouth of the Wolf River, and located upon what was known as the fourth Chickasaw Bluff, an elevation about forty feet high.

Below the bluff ran the river, and far to the right was what had been a naval depot established by the United States but used until the recent capitulation of Memphis by the Confederates for the purpose of building vessels of their own. To Jeanne, accustomed to New York City, Memphis seemed very small indeed. It was in reality a place of about twelve thousand inhabitants and considered a flouris.h.i.+ng little city, being the port of entry for Shelby County, Tennessee. At one time it was the most important town on the river between St. Louis and New Orleans.

But if the girl was disappointed in the size of the place, the beauty of the surroundings made up for it. She gave an ecstatic "Oh," at the sight of the broad esplanade with the n.o.ble river was.h.i.+ng the base of the bluff which jutted out into a bed of sandstone that formed a natural landing for boats. Several steamboats lay at anchor and Jeanne's attention was drawn to them by the singing of the blacks as they hurried to and from the wharf loading the steamers with freight. It was a weird plantation refrain in the minor key. Jeanne had never heard anything like it, and she listened intently as the song grew louder and louder as the enthusiasm of the blacks increased:

"Ma sistah, done you want to get religin?

Go down in de lonesum valley, Go down in de lonesum valley, Go down in de lonesum valley, ma Lohd, To meet ma Jesus dar."

Over and over they sang the refrain, and the girl was so interested that she did not hear Mr. Huntsworth's approach.

"Well, what do you think of the South?" he asked.

"I like it. Mr. Huntsworth, just listen to those negroes sing. Isn't it musical?"