Virginia chose Mammy Easter, whose red and yellow turban was awry from fear lest she be left behind and Ned was instructed to drive the rest with all haste to Bellegarde. Captain Vance gave Mrs. Colfax his arm, and Virginia his eyes. He escorted the ladies to quarters in the texas, and presently was heard swearing prodigiously as the boat was cast off. It was said of him that he could turn an oath better than any man on the river, which was no mean reputation.
Mrs. Colfax was assisted to bed by Susan. Virginia stood by the little window of the cabin, and as the Barbara paddled and floated down the river she looked anxiously for signals of a conflagration. Nay, in that hour she wished that the city might burn. So it is that the best of us may at times desire misery to thousands that our own malice may be fed. Virginia longed to see the yellow flame creep along the wet, gray clouds. Passionate tears came to her eyes at the thought of the humiliation she had suffered,--and before him, of all men. Could she ever live with her aunt after what she had said? "Carrying on with that Yankee!" The horrible injustice of it!
Her anger, too, was still against Stephen. Once more he had been sent by circumstances to mock her and her people. If the city would only burn, that his cocksure judgment might for once be mistaken, his calmness for once broken!
The rain ceased, the clouds parted, and the sun turned the muddy river to gold. The bluffs shone May-green in the western flood of light, and a haze hung over the bottom-lands. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the city receding to the northward, and the rain had washed the pall of smoke from over it. On the boat excited voices died down to natural tones; men smoked on the guards and promenaded on the hurricane deck, as if this were some pleasant excursion. Women waved to the other boats flocking after. Laughter was heard, and joking. Mrs. Colfax stirred in her berth and began to talk.
"Virginia, where are we going?" Virginia did not move
"Jinny!"
She turned. In that hour she remembered that great good-natured man, her mother's brother, and for his sake Colonel Carvel had put up with much from his wife's sister in-law. She could pass over, but never forgive what her aunt had said to her that afternoon. Mrs. Colfax had often been cruel before, and inconsiderate. But as the girl thought of the speech, staring out on the waters, it suddenly occurred to her that no lady would have uttered it. In all her life she had never realized till now that her aunt was not a lady. From that time forth Virginia's attitude toward her aunt was changed.
She controlled herself, however, and answered something, and went out listlessly to find the Captain and inquire the destination of the boat. Not that this mattered much to her. At the foot of the companionway leading to the saloon deck she saw, of all people, Mr. Eliphalet Hopper leaning on the rail, and pensively expectorating on the roof of the wheel-house. In another mood Virginia would have laughed, for at sight of her he straightened convulsively, thrust his quid into his cheek, and removed his hat with more zeal than the grudging deference he usually accorded to the sex. Clearly Eliphalet would not have chosen the situation.
"I cal'late we didn't get out any too soon, Miss Carvel," he remarked, with a sad attempt at jocoseness. "There won't be a great deal in that town when the Dutch get through with it."
"I think that there are enough men left in it to save it," said Virginia.
Apparently Mr. Hopper found no suitable answer to this, for he made none. He continued to glance at her uneasily. There was an impudent tribute in his look which she resented strongly.
"Where is the Captain?" she demanded.
"He's down below--ma'am," he replied. "Can--can I do anything?"
"Yes," she said, with abrupt maliciousness, "you may tell me where you are going."
"I cal'late, up the Cumberland River. That's where she's bound for, if she don't stop before she gets there Guess there ain't many of 'em inquired where she was goin', or cared much," he added, with a ghastly effort to be genial.
"Do you care?" she demanded, curiously. Eliphalet grinned.
"Not a great deal," he said. Then he felt called upon to defend himself. "I didn't see any use in gettin' murdered, when I couldn't do anything."
She left him. He stared after her up the companionway, bit off a generous piece of tobacco, and ruminated. If to be a genius is to possess an infinite stock of patience, Mr. Hopper was a genius. There was patience in his smile. But it was not a pleasant smile to look upon.
Virginia did not see it. She had told her aunt the news, and stood in the breeze on the hurricane deck looking southward, with her hand shading her eyes. The 'Barbara Lane' happened to be a boat with a record, and her name was often in the papers. She had already caught up with and distanced others which had had half an hour's start of her, and was near the head of the procession.
Virginia presently became aware that people were gathering around her in knots, gazing at a boat coming toward them. Others had been met which, on learning the dread news, turned back. But this one kept her bow steadily up the current, although she had passed within a biscuit-toss of the leader of the line of refugees. It was then that Captain Vance's hairy head appeared above the deck.
"Dang me!" he said, "if here ain't pig-headed Brent, steaming the 'Jewanita' straight to destruction."
"Oh, are you sure it's Captain Brent?" cried Virginia. The Captain looked around in surprise.
"If that there was Shreve's old Enterprise come to life again, I'd lay cotton to sawdust that Brent had her. Danged if he wouldn't take her right into the jaws of the Dutch."
The Captain's words spread, and caused considerable excitement. On board the Barbara Lane were many gentlemen who had begun to be shamefaced over their panic, and these went in a body to the Captain and asked him to communicate with the 'Juanita'. Whereupon a certain number of whistles were sounded, and the Barbara's bows headed for the other side of the channel.
As the Juanita drew near, Virginia saw the square figure and clean, smooth-shaven face of Captain Lige standing in front of his wheel-house Peace crept back into her soul, and she tingled with joy as the bells clanged and the bucket-planks churned, and the great New Orleans packet crept slowly to the Barbara's side.
"You ain't goin' in, Brent?" shouted the Barbara's captain.
"Why not?" responded Mr. Brent. At the sound of his voice Virginia could have wept.
"The Dutch are sacking the city," said Vance. "Didn't they tell you?"
"The Dutch--hell!" said Mr. Brent, calmly. "Who's afraid of the Dutch?"
A general titter went along the guards, and Virginia blushed. Why could not the Captain see her?
"I'm on my reg'lar trip, of course," said Vance. Out there on the sunlit river the situation seemed to call for an apology.
"Seems to be a little more loaded than common," remarked Captain Lige, dryly, at which there was another general laugh.
"If you're really goin' up," said Captain Vance, "I reckon there's a few here would like to be massacred, if you'll take 'em."
"Certainly," answered Mr. Brent; "I'm bound for the barbecue." And he gave a command.
While the two great boats were manoeuvring, and slashing with one wheel and the other, the gongs sounding, Virginia ran into the cabin.
"Oh, Aunt Lillian," she exclaimed, "here is Captain Lige and the Juanita, and he is going to take us back with him. He says there is no danger."
It its unnecessary here to repeat the moral persuasion which Virginia used to get