The Wartime Journal of a Georgia Girl. Eliza Frances Andrews. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Eliza Frances Andrews
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Документальная литература
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isbn: 4064066052584
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the effort. But the provisions that we had shared with our companions on the journey proved to be bread cast on the waters that did not wait many days to be returned. I had hardly taken my first bite of hardtack when Judge Baker invited Metta and me to share a nice cold supper with him; the bride offered us the only thing she had left — some real coffee, which the colonel had boiled at a fire kindled on the ground outside — and two ladies, strangers to us, who had got aboard at Gordon, sent us each a paper package containing a dainty little lunch of cold chicken and buttered biscuit. But Metta was too ill to eat. She had a high fever, and we both spent a miserable, sleepless night.

      At last day began to break, cold, clear, and frosty, and with it came travelers who had walked out from Macon bringing confirmation of the report that no arrangements would be made for carrying passengers and their baggage to the city. This news made us desperate. The men on board swore that the train should not move till some provision was made for getting us to our destination. This made the Gordon passengers furious. They said there were several women among them who had walked out from the city (two of them with babies in their arms), and the train should go on time, come what would. Our men said there were ladies in the car, too; we had paid our fare to Macon, and they intended to see that we got there. Each party had a show of right on its side, but possession is nine points of the law, and this advantage we determined not to forego. The Gordon passengers began to crowd in on us till we could hardly breathe, and Capt. Mackall, in no gentle terms, ordered them out. High words passed, swords and pistols were drawn on both sides, and a general fight seemed about to take place. Mett and I were frightened out of our wits at the first alarm and threw our arms about each other. I kept quiet till I saw the shooting about to begin, and then, my nerves all unstrung by what I had suffered during the night, I tuned up and began to cry like a baby. It was well I did, for my tears brought the men to their senses. Judge Baker and Col. Scott interfered, reminding them that ladies were present, and then arms were laid aside and profuse apologies made for having frightened us. Both parties then turned their indignation against the railroad officials, and somebody was making a bluster about pitching the conductor into the creek, when he appeared on the scene and appeased all parties by announcing that a locomotive and car would be sent out to meet the passengers for Macon on the other side of the creek and take us to the city. In the meantime, we were tantalized by hearing the whistles of the different trains with which we wished to connect, as they rolled out of the dépot in Macon.

      It was eight o'clock before our transfer, consisting of an engine and a single box-car, arrived at the other end of the trestle, and as they had to be unloaded of their freight before we could get aboard, it was nearly ten when we reached Macon. But as soon as they were heard approaching, we were so glad to get out of the prison where we had spent such an uncomfortable night that we immediately put on our wraps and began to cross the tottering trestle on foot. It was 80 feet high and half a mile long, over a swamp through which flowed Walnut Creek, now swollen to a torrent. Part of the flooring of the bridge was washed down stream and our only foothold was a narrow plank, hardly wider than my two hands. Capt. Mackall charged himself with my parcels, and Mr. Belisle was left to look after the trunks. Strong-headed men walked along the sleepers on either side, to steady any one that might become dizzy. Just behind Metta, who followed the captain and me, hobbled a wounded soldier on crutches, and behind him came Maj. Bonham, borne on the back of a stout negro porter. Last of all came porters with the trunks, and it is a miracle to me how they contrived to carry such heavy loads over that dizzy, tottering height.

      Once across the bridge we disposed ourselves wherever we could find a firm spot — a dry one was out of the question. When Metta drew off her veil and gloves, I was terrified at the looks of her hands and face. We were both afraid she had contracted some awful disease in that dirty car, but the captain laughed and said he knew all about army diseases, and thought it was nothing but measles. When we got to Macon, Dr. Shine further relieved my mind by assuring me it was a mild case, and said she needed only a few days' rest.

      We reached the dépot just ten minutes after the South-Western train had gone out, so we went to the Lanier House, and I at once sent Mr. Belisle for Brother Troup, only to learn that he had gone on the very train we had missed, to spend Christmas at his plantation.

      Gussie and Mary Lou Lamar followed the Days, and I was kept so busy receiving callers and answering inquiries about Mett that I didn't have time to find out how tired and sleepy I was till I went to bed. Judge Vason happened to be at the hotel when we arrived, and insisted that we should pack up and go with him to Albany next day and stay at his house till we were both well rid of the measles — for it stands to reason that I shall take it after nursing Metta. He said that it had just been through his family from A to Z, so there was no danger of our communicating it to anybody there. Then Mrs. Edward Johnston came and proposed taking us to her house, and on Dr. Shine's advice I decided to accept this invitation, as it would hardly be prudent for Metta to travel in her present condition, and we could not get proper attention for her at the hotel. I could not even get a chambermaid without going the whole length of the corridor to ring the bell and waiting there till somebody came to answer it.

      The colonel and his party left on the one o'clock train that night for Columbus, where they expect to take the boat for Apalachicola. After taking leave of them I went to bed, and if ever any mortal did hard sleeping, I did that night. Next day Mr. Johnston called in his carriage and brought us to his beautiful home on Mulberry St., where we are lodged like princesses, in a bright, sunny room that makes me think of old Chaucer's lines that I have heard Cousin Liza quote so often:

      "This is the port of rest from troublous toile,

      The world's sweet inne from paine and wearisome turmoile."

      [NOTE. — Several pages are torn from the manuscript here. — AUTHOR.]