Leah found Jeff sitting under the shade of a towering oak staring moodily across the small meandering stream. For two days she had watched him grow more and more disappointed as no way was found to pay a visit to his father. Sitting down beside him on the log, she said, “Jeff, come along with Pa and me.”
“Where you going?” he asked morosely.
“They’re having a preaching service, and they say the preacher is really fine. He’s one of the chaplains of the regiment.”
Jeff picked up a stone, examined it for a moment, then threw it almost viciously in front of a squirrel that was scavenging along the ground. The squirrel jumped straight up and turned a back flip, which caused both of them to laugh. “Well, I guess that’ll be all right,” he said grudgingly, “but I don’t put much stock in what any Yankee preacher would say.”
He rose to his feet, and they wandered back to the wagon, where they found Leah’s father putting on a clean white shirt.
“Always like to wear a clean shirt to go to meet-in’.” He smiled at them. “Come along now. We don’t want to be late.”
They made their way through the city of tents and came at last to an open space already filled with blue uniforms.
“My, that’s a big congregation,” Leah said, staring over the crowd of soldiers. She looked up to where a small platform had been built. “That’s him—Chaplain Marcus Patterson. They say he’s bringing revival to the Union army.”
Jeff saw a slight young man of perhaps thirty, wearing an officer’s uniform. He had red hair and a small, trim mustache and beard.
“He’s not as fat as some of the preachers we had back home, is he?”
“I don’t guess he has the chance to sit down and eat fried chicken as much. They say he’s on the go all the time,” she replied. “I think the meeting’s going to start.”
A tall sergeant stood up then and, without saying a word, began to sing. He had a clear tenor voice, and soon the clearing was filled with the sound of more than a thousand male voices. They sang “The Old Rugged Cross,” and Jeff thought of the hundreds of times he had sung that song in the little church back home.
Leah whispered to him when the song was over, “Someday we’ll be back home singing this song again.”
The song service went on for some time, for the men seemed to love to sing. Then the tall song leader stepped back, and the red-haired chaplain came forward. He had a clear, ringing baritone voice and could be heard distinctly back at the edge of the clearing where Jeff and Leah and Dan Carter stood.
“I’m not going to preach a long-winded sermon,” he began, then smiled as some applause broke out. “You don’t pay me enough for that, but I am glad to bring the gospel to you tonight.” He looked over his congregation for a moment. Then he opened his Bible and read slowly, “ ‘It is appointed unto man once to die, but after this the judgment.’ That’s half of my text. The second half is, ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.’”
He began to preach, and Jeff found himself caught up in the sermon. The chaplain had the ability to weave stories in with Scripture—going to the Old Testament, then to the New, then illustrating from the lives of famous Christians. All men and women and young people must someday die, he said. If they die unprepared, they perish forever, cut off from God.
Then he came to the end of his sermon by stressing that Jesus paid it all. “You’ve heard a thousand times that Jesus died for our sins. But now that’s more important for you men than ever before because the day of battle lies ahead.” He looked out over the faces that peered up at him intently. “Some of you will not be here when I preach another sermon. Perhaps I’ll not be here. I may be in the presence of God.” He paused. “I’m going to give you the opportunity to know God. If you feel that you’re a sinner and not right with Him, won’t you come and let me pray with you?”
Jeff felt a stirring in his heart and knew that the sermon was for him. Stubbornly he planted his feet and stared at the ground. He was aware that many soldiers were walking forward. Men were falling on their knees at the platform, and when he glanced up he saw the chaplain praying with them.
But Jeff did nothing, and finally it was time to go.
Leah knew that Jeff was moved by the sermon, but she said nothing to him, knowing how he hated to be pushed. Later that night, just before she and her father retired, she said, “Pa, I think Jeff needs to find God. He’s real bitter about his father.”
“We’ll pray for him, Pet. God will hear our prayers.”
* * *
The next day, after selling supplies all morning long, Leah’s father said, “Let’s close up and go to the hospital. I want to talk to a few of the boys there.”
Jeff accompanied them, having nothing else to do, and while they passed up and down the beds, he stood back, saying little. He was thinking, These men are the enemy. They are the ones that shot my pa.
But he watched Leah and her father move from bed to bed. They had already become acquainted with several of the wounded men. They stopped beside one bed where a boy of no more than eighteen lay. He had only one arm and had a bandage about his head. He listened as Leah talked to him. “Why, you’ll be fine. You’ll be going home now, Jesse,” she said, “and your folks will be glad to see you.”
Mr. Carter had moved on down to another bed, but Jeff stood watching Leah and the wounded soldier.
“Well,” the boy said, “I don’t know.” He lifted his stub of an arm and said, “Don’t reckon I’ll be able to do much with this.”
“Course you will,” Leah said emphatically. “You’ll just have to make that other arm stronger.” She talked to him for a while and finally, when they moved on and were out of hearing, Jeff said, “That’s pretty rough, having only one arm.”
Leah sighed and looked back at the young man. “Yes, I feel so sorry for them all.”
Jeff might have felt sorry himself, but he could not forget how hopeless it seemed to get in to see his father. He worried about his father a great deal, for he feared that his wound had not healed well.
They were almost ready to leave when all of a sudden Leah looked up and said, “Why, look, Jeff! There’s the chaplain.”
Chaplain Patterson was sitting beside the bed of a young man who had a bandage over his eyes.
Jeff said, “I guess he’s a pretty hard-working fellow—for a preacher.”
As they passed by, the chaplain rose, and Jeff heard him saying, “I’ll be back to see you, Bobby. God’s going to do a work in you, you’ll see.” He turned and almost bumped into Leah. He reached out to steady her and said, “Well, pardon me, miss, I didn’t expect to see a young lady here.”
Leah smiled at him. “My father’s a sutler. My name is Leah Carter, and this is Jeff Majors. We enjoyed your sermon last night especially, chaplain.”
“Did you now? Well, I’m glad to hear that.” He stood there smiling, chatting, and soon he had found out all about the work that Leah and her father were doing. “Oh, yes, I’ve talked to several of the men who’ve gotten your Bibles and tracts—a wonderful work you and your father are doing. I’d like to meet him.”
“He’s right down there, Chaplain. Come along.”
Leah led the chaplain to where her father was talking to a wounded soldier. After he had finished, she said, “Father, I want you to meet Chaplain Patterson.”
The two men shook hands and chatted amiably. Patterson commended the sutler on the work he was doing. “Anything I can do to help you, you just let me know.”
Dan Carter blinked in surprise as a sudden thought seemed to come to him. He glanced at Jeff. “Well, there is one thing. There’s a friend of mine, an old neighbor from Kentucky. He joined the Southern army and was taken prisoner at Bull Run. He’s in the Old Capitol Prison now.”
Patterson shook his head, “Sad, isn’t it, that things have to be like this?” Then he asked, “What can I do for you, Mr. Carter?”
“If you would help us get into the prison so that we could visit him, I’d appreciate it. He was wounded, and I don’t think he’s doing too well. I’d like to help him if I can.”
“Why, of course. As a matter of fact, I visit there myself some. I’ll pick up a pass for you and leave it with the officer in charge.”
“Well—Lieutenant Simpkins, he’s turned us down several times.”
“Don’t worry.” The chaplain grinned. “I outrank him. You’ll get in to see your friend. What’s his name?”
“Lieutenant Nelson Majors. I appreciate this, Chaplain.”
“Don’t mention it. We must get together soon, and I’ll be seeing you often because you’ll be following the troops, I suppose?” When he received a nod from Carter, he said, “Well, we’ll stay with these boys right up to the very cannon’s mouth.”
He turned and walked busily away.
Jeff said, “You think he’ll do it?”
“Son,” Dan said kindly, “I’m an old man, but I’ve learned to tell a truth teller from the other kind. Don’t you worry. Chaplain Patterson will do exactly what he said.”
Jeff was nervous all day. He had been impressed by the friendly chaplain but still couldn’t quite believe it would happen.
Early the next morning he arose at dawn and walked over to the woods where he escaped the pressure of the crowds. For a long time he walked among the trees, following the little creek. Once a small bass broke the water, and he thought of Old Napoleon waiting in the pond back in Kentucky.
“I sure hope nobody catches you, Nap,” he whispered. “That’s one thing I want to do for myself.”
When he got back to the camp, he found breakfast ready and sat down and ate the eggs and fried ham that Leah had prepared.
“Where did you get milk?” he said. “I don’t see any cows around here.”
“A woman came through selling it,” Leah said. “Her husband was killed in one of the battles, so she makes her living selling milk to the soldiers now. I felt so sorry for her.” She drank some milk herself. “It’s hard to think how many widows there are, but maybe the war will be over soon.”
After breakfast, they mounted the wagon and rode back into Washington.
As they got down at the Old Capitol Prison, Jeff’s face was set.
“Don’t worry, Jeff,” Leah said confidently. “Chaplain Patterson will come through.”
They entered and went to Lieutenant Simpkins’s office where they found him sitting behind his desk. His face turned red. “It’s you again!”
“Why, yes,” Mr. Carter said pleasantly. “I understand that provisions have been made for us to visit Lieutenant Nelson Majors.”
Simpkins jerked his drawer open, yanked out a paper, and stared at it. His mouth drew tight, and he nodded curtly. “Yes, this came this morning. You can go see your friend.”
Jeff could see that the lieutenant was furious, but Mr. Carter said gently, “We appreciate your help, Lieutenant. We will try to be as little trouble as possible. Perhaps we can help with some of the things the men need, since that’s what we do, you know.”
“These are rebels,” Simpkins snapped. “They deserve what they are getting! Corporal!” he called out. “Take these people to see Lieutenant Majors.”
“Yes, sir!”
The guard led them down through a series of hallways. There was a run-down air about the place, and guards roamed the passages, holding muskets loosely.
“Nobody’s ever escaped from Old Capitol,” the guard said. “No, sir! And never will either. We’ve got orders to shoot if they even get close to a door or window.”
Leah and Jeff glanced at each other, and Leah shook her head when Jeff was about to speak.
“Don’t say anything,” she whispered. “Come on.”
They came to a door with a padlock. The guard unlocked it and swung the door back. “Just holler through the grill when you want to leave,” he said rather cheerfully. “Somebody’ll let you out.” He stepped aside, and the three entered.
Jeff looked around. The room was small, approximately fifteen feet square, and seemed crowded. One window was open, bars crossing it, and it admitted enough light so that he could see the faces of the men. At first, he didn’t see his father, and his heart sank. But then a voice came.
“Jeff!”
He turned quickly and saw a cot over in one corner, illuminated by the sunlight. His father was struggling to sit up. “Pa!” He helped his father into a sitting position. He was shocked at his father’s face, for Lieutenant Majors had lost much weight. His eyes seemed sunken in his head, and his skin was sallow, unlike his usual ruddy tan.
“Pa!” he repeated. He put his arms around him and found, for once, that he was stronger than his father.
“Son!” the lieutenant said, holding to him hard for a moment. Then he pulled away, looked around at the other prisoners and said, almost in a whisper, “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Carter may have been afraid that Jeff might reveal more than he should. He came up and said, “Well, don’t I get a ‘hello,’ Nelson?” He stepped into the light so that his face was revealed, and when the lieutenant called his name, he reached out and took his friend’s hand.
“Me and Leah here and Jeff, we’re doing sutler work now, you know. Heard you were in prison, so we thought we would come by for a visit.” He glanced at Jeff and shook his head.
Nelson Majors seemed to get the message too. “Why, I’m glad to see you all,” he said. “You fellows, let these visitors have some of those chairs. You can sit down anytime.”
There was a murmur of assent, and some of the men at once brought chairs over. “Let me introduce you to some of these fellows,” the lieutenant said. He called off their names, and when they had all been introduced, said, “Now, you tell me the news of home.”
“We will,” Leah said, “but first, we brought you something good.” She had brought a large basketful of fresh bread and cakes and meat that she had prepared the night before, knowing they were coming. “I didn’t know if they would let us bring this in or not, but they just looked through it and said there weren’t any guns or knives here.”
Jeff’s father looked into the basket and shook his head in wonderment. “Manna from heaven! Here, you fellows—we’re going to have a meal fit for a king. Then he added, looking at Leah with a smile, “From a princess.”
Jeff never forgot the next few moments. The men were as starved as hungry wolves. They tried not to gobble the food, but he saw how hard it was for them.
Finally, after receiving their thanks over and over again, Leah said, “Jeff, you talk to the lieutenant. We’ve brought some Bibles and tracts for you all,” she said to the other prisoners.
Jeff saw what she was doing. In the crowded room she was going to draw them off, talk to them, ask their names, keep their attention away from Jeff and his father.
“Guess I better lie down, Son. Can’t sit up too long.” Lieutenant Majors stretched out painfully, then looked around and whispered, “Son, you’ve got to get out of here.”
Jeff leaned forward, his face a few inches from his father’s, and also whispered, “I had to come, Pa. I knew you were sick, and I had to come and see if I could help.”
“That’s like you, Son, but if they found out I was your father, you’d be suspected at once.”
“Suspected of what?”
“Of being a spy.” Nelson Majors shrugged his thin shoulders. “They think everybody’s a spy these days. There are a lot of spies in Washington. And I guess there’s some Union spies in Richmond.” He looked up. “Well, now that you’re here, tell me everything. How have you been? How’s Tom? How’s Esther?”
Jeff sat there for thirty minutes telling his father about what he had been doing. His heart was heavy when he saw the dullness of his father’s eyes and remembered how bright-eyed and strong and cheerful he’d always been. Being a prisoner is killing him, he thought. He’s got to get out of this place.
Lieutenant Majors listened quietly. Then he said, “Son, you’ve done all you can. Now I want you to leave. You’ve got to get back to Virginia. Get back with Tom—you two take care of each other as best you can.”
“But what about you?”
“God will take care of me. He sent you by, didn’t he? And Dan and Leah? You’ve got to take care of yourself.”
“You think you’ll ever get exchanged, Pa?”
“Well, that’s not going too well, but there’s always hope.” He reached up a thin hand and took Jeff’s. “I want you to know I’m proud of you, Jeff. You’re a man already, despite your years.”
Jeff flushed and shook his head. “Aw, I haven’t done anything. There must be some way to escape from this place.”
“No! Don’t even think of that!” his father exclaimed. “I want you to promise me you won’t try anything foolish like trying to get me out of here. You promise that, Jeff?”
Jeff nodded, saying, “Yes, sure, I promise, Pa—but you’ve got to get out of here somehow.”
“We’ll talk about it. You’ll be here for a while, won’t you? With the Carters?”
“Yes, they say the army’s building up. General McClellan wants a hundred thousand men—that’s what everybody says. So we’ll stay until they leave.”
“Good. It means a lot to have you here, Son.”
The three stayed for some time, and when they left Jeff saw Lieutenant Simpkins glaring as they passed his doorway. As they got into the wagon, Jeff said, “Lieutenant Simpkins doesn’t trust us. He thinks everybody’s a spy.”
“You’ll have to be very careful,” Mr. Carter warned. “Don’t say anything to give yourself away. I’d hate to see you taken and put in prison.”
They sat quietly on the wagon seat as they rode away, each filled with his own thoughts. After a while Leah said, “We’ll come back every day, Jeff. We’ll bring medicine, and we’ll get Chaplain Patterson to help, and your father will get better—you’ll see!”