Col. Harold de Lacey

Front matter

Class ~ P Z.?> Book . T\ n 4- s a C

Copyright If

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT.

Preface

“Nor peace , nor ease the heart can know. Which, like the needle true,

Turns at the touch of joy or woe —

But turning trembles too.”

There are resistless influences surrounding us from birth, which shape our destinies and lead us on through devious paths to life’s goal. “What is to be will be” is a doctrine as true, as certain as the laws of the universe. The barque is built of the best timbers, by skilled workmen, and furnished with most perfect appliances — and amid the plaudits of the gathered throngs is launched on shining waters to fulfill its destiny. Right gallantly it floats adown the stream and outward upon the broad ocean — but ere it reaches the port for which it sailed, maybe “many times and oft” deflected from its course by wind and storm. Unseen forces at its launching hover over it, unexpected gales blow it far out of the beaten path of vi

Preface.

its craft, unknown seas wash over its newly decorated sides, and its crew become alarmed for its safety amid the waste of seething waters. But, if the star of destiny at last beams through a rift in the inky clouds, its navigator may readjust his needle, guide it back to safety ere it strands upon the reefs, and after many days reach the harbor for which he steered.

Anchor may be cast in smooth waters, and the battered, storm-tossed barque be repaired.

So, a human life may be born into the world, and, from its tenderest infancy to young manhood, be cradled amid all that ennobles and embellishes existence — then resistless influences, which have worked quietly, potently, will bear it onward into maelstroms, plunge it into rough, unbeaten paths, bring it into the domain of despair, where the rainbow of promise ne’er spans the sky; yet, in the end, will come from the outposts of life’s darkness the sweet refrain: "All’s well.”

Frank A. Douglass.

Introduction

Among those whose paths are in peace, few comprehend the horrors and suffering of war which generations have waged to lift the world to its present civilization and mantle its people with the protecting garb of safety and comfort.

It is only when the pen of a skillful writer recalls the facts of history by putting them in a setting of brilliant romance, whose beauty thrills the heart to its depths, and brings out in strong relief the deeds which courage and determination have accomplished, that we realize the true meaning of war.

No more dramatic or interesting tale could be desired than the history of this nation, and when one, whose mind is as brilliant as his sword is powerful ; whose life, as thousands of others has been at his country’s call since childhood; to whose ear the roar of shot and shell and the whiz of bullets is as familiar as his mother’s voice;

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Introduction.

whose vengeance is as pitiless as his sympathy for his wounded mates is tender, relates what he knows are actualities, with startling, realistic skill, do we reflect upon his work with an added intelligence and a keener appreciation of the lives and work of warriors, who have and will fight to the death, in the cause of justice, right and the protection of their loved ones.

The author has told an instructive and exciting story, for it recounts all the thrilling history of this country since the war with Mexico, and the principal characters become most real as their deeds and those of their children are followed to the events of the present day.

Life at West Point, its joys and troubles, the forming of friendships which become history, the hopes and aims, the success and defeat of its many fellows, throw new light on this often told subject, and in it are many charms hitherto overlooked. Rarely has army life, of both officers and soldiers, in the Western prairies been more vividly told.

A more exciting existence it would be difficult to imagine or one more dangerous and delightful.

One can never be indifferent to warfare against

Introduction.

ix the treacherous Indian after the heartrending, truthful tales told of their cruelty, cowardice and ingratitude in this absorbing book.

No tongue could fashion these things, no mind imagine them, and no pen could tell them with such force and convincing reality, were they not subjects near to the heart of those who know them to be absolute truths, and were witnesses of their performance.

Interest centres itself, however, in the conflict which shook these states, hitherto united, to their very foundation, broke ties of friendship strong as death, and brought sorrow and desolation to most of their peace loving dwellers.

Love of country overcame all other sentiment in the War of the Rebellion, and friends closer than brothers fought one another with deadly intent. Curious and malignant were the relations caused by this circumstance, but none more strange than in this ingenious work. It is only after the close of our war of justice in Cuba that the entanglements of this distressful period of history become extricated, and again embark in peaceful channels.

People in all the various walks of life will read

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Introduction.

this charming book with avidity, and find as recompense in its beautifully written pages — diversion, recreation and satisfaction — which will take them away from themselves and leave always a responsive chord of admiration for the author and his work.

It must not be supposed, however, that the pages which here await the reader sound the stern alarums of war alone, and that the pictures drawn are all of the battlefield and the camp, for, mingling with the roar of cannon and the bugle’s blast there emanate from the chapters rare whisperings of love and tender pledgings, which serve as a fascinating contrast to the more martial voices.

It is not until the author has pretty well developed the general trend of his narrative, deftly indicating to the reader the scope of the work he has undertaken and outlining the great object lesson he proposes to unfold, that the hero, Colonel De Lacey, whose name furnishes the title to the story, is introduced.

What goes before is designed to lead up this magnificent martial figure and to prepare the reader for a fuller understanding of the qualities of

Introduction.

xi the hero before he is himself revealed in the dare devil soldier and gallant knight, who could only have been the product of generations of chivalrous ancestry and at whose cradle the crooning of watchful nurses was often drowned by the shouts of sanguine conflict.

Young De Lacey, as we see him in his very earliest manhood, is an interesting combination of honorable purpose and elemental, irrepressible spirit, such a spirit as dwelt in Hengist and in Horsa, and such a power as inspired William the Conqueror to set the stamp of his genius forever upon the greatest race on earth — the Anglo-Saxon.

No namby-pamby figures these, no spoilt darlings of the parlor, but strong men with strong passions, that could joust or frolic with the best, break strong heads and bring a quicker beat to tender hearts, and who if opportunity offered could make the bumper pass right merrily when the God of battles gave them rest.

The incidents which the author introduces to give us a faithful picture of his hero are ingeniously conceived. A golden-haired youth we find him under the tutelage of a Southern hero, in xii

Introduction.

whose spacious home he is surrounded with all that indefinable subtle aroma of chivalry and honor that has made Virginia a proverb in the language of our land. His father is meanwhile helping J uarez make his glorious fight for Mexican liberty,, and of his mother he has but a charming portrait, the tender eulogies of those that surround him, and a silent marble shaft.

In introducing this bitter loss of a beautiful mother, suffered so early in life, the author proves himself a true artist and student of human character, for it is doubtful if as ardent and wellattuned a soul as that of young De Lacey would not have been lured into different channels than those of adventure and military glory, had the restraining sympathy of a mother guided the early formation of his character.

As it is we find him persuading his father and friends to send him to West Point, against their will. While at the Military Academy he acquits himself creditably in his studies, but is finally expelled for hazing. He flees, and enlists under an assumed name as private in the far West, where he performs some noteworthy feats of valor in the

Introduction.

xiii

Indian wars. However, in justice to the author it is not right to go too closely into the incidents of the remarkable plot of the book. Suffice it to say that the young soldier fights under more flags than one and that his fist is as ready to strike a blow in resenting an insult as his sword is eager to engage in the battle of nations ; but crowning it all is the ever tender sympathy of a noble heart.

The close of the Cuban war ends the hero’s military career, so far as this book is concerned, and sees him happily united with a beautiful woman whom he has long loved.

The female characters are drawn with the happiest inspiration by the author, who, as has already been indicated, has made war and the life of the camp and the barracks his profession for a generation and from whom one would scarcely expect the graceful tenderness of charm with which he depicts woman in her varied emotions.

The book is a romance almost kaleidoscopic in the infinite variety of pictures conjured up with magical rapidity and beauty and is worthy a place of honor in every library.

Joseph Tyler Butts.

CHAPTER I. a. d. 1842.

Geraldine Heathcote was a daughter of the North, having been reared on the Hudson, near West Point. In her girlish days, when she stood “where brook and river meet,” her brother Jack, a cadet, had brought home as his guest a young comrade, Henry Preston, of whose prowess he had long filled his letters, and whose praises, when at home on furlough, he had sounded “many times and oft.” A fortnight had passed, filled with pleasant rambles, horseback rides, coaching parties and twilight gatherings on the verandas, in which Geraldine had shyly joined her brother and his comrade in arms from the Point. She admired the bonnie, fair-haired, blue-eyed youth from the Southland, and her eyes sparkled with approving light as she watched him perform wonderful feats of skill and strength in practice with her brother. She watched with breathless interest their broadsword contests on the lawn, an art in which Preston was the champion of his class — cool, suave, active and wonderfully graceful in his methods of attack and defense. In their horseback rides she could not but notice the complete control he exercised over his mount, and how handsome he looked as they galloped along the shaded country roads, yet full of youthful fire and buoyant spirits. She was charmed with his voice when, accompanied by her guitar, he sang the soft negro melodies which he had learned in childhood at “Sunny side” in Virginia — they were new and pleasing to her. He was twenty-one and she just seventeen; ages when love ripens rapidly and impressions are deeply imprinted upon the heart* s tablets.

On Preston’s return to West Point to take up again the routine of cadet life for his closing year, he bore with him a lovely image of a fair young girl, whose soft brown eyes had rested upon him so kindly, yet mistily, at parting. A lissome figure standing on the portico, between her mother and father, a soft, beautifully shaped hand waving a dainty bit of lace as they turned the bend in the driveway which shut off the view haunted him for months to come. Bright messages were borne to him in her brother’s letters, and best wishes from her parents to the young guest who had been within their gates.

Months fled on leaden wing to both Preston and Geraldine. Hot a word had been spoken, yet each felt that some day Fate would cause their bargues of life to be drawn into the same channel and they would drift side by side in pleasant waters.

Preston and Jack Heathcote were the “Damon and Pythias” of the graduating class; Studious, talented, obedient, yet full of ardor, they had both

Colonel Harold De Lacey.

won cadet promotions in Co. “D,” Captain Preston commanding, Heathcote next in rank as first lieutenant.

“Exams” were over, and they had led the class. Their names were on the “roll of honor” at the top, and the families and friends of both overwhelmed them with praise. Proud youths, yet their heads were not turned. The same boat had brought to the Point the Prestons from Virginia and the Heathcotes from “Highland View” to witness the Class Day and attend the hop. The Virginians and the Heathcotes were soon introduced to each other and the strong ties which had bound their sons for four years united them in close bonds of friendship.

'Twas a gala day of sightseeing, witnessing the field exercises, wandering about the quadrangle, along the parade, *neath the interlaced branches of “Flirtation Walk” or resting upon the verandas where the music of the band floated to them softly, sweetly; then dinner en famille.

“Night had drawn her sable mantle down and pinned it with a star.” The closing exercises had ended, the day was done. The moon rose slowly above the hilltops, and, mirrored in the waters of the Hudson, rested upon wood and lawn with silvery lustre. The bugle note and roll of drum sounded “Tattoo,” and lights in barrack walls were out. But now the hop room presented a brilliant pageant. Myriads of lights shone from within, revealing the gathering throngs of beauty arrayed in dazzling toilets, chaperoned by stately matrons. Officers in uniforms of blue and gold lace; cadets in full dress of gray and black braid.

The elders of the Prestons and Heathcotes had formed a quiet circle, and from their point of vantage could look forth upon the brilliant throng. Young Preston had early claimed the right to inscribe his name in various places on Geraldine’s programme, and now their parents watched them whirl by, gracefully treading the waltz measure, he with flushed, triumphant face and she radiantly beautiful. Their hearts were stirred by close contact, by thoughts of the past summer days, by the rapid dance and sweet strains of music.

Ah! Youth is life’s springtide, when flowers blossom, birds sing and mate and the frozen hills of age in the far distance seem clothed with tropical verdure.

The moon had long passed its zenith when the band struck up the soft, sweet air of “Home, Sweet Home.” The ball was over, good nights were spoken, the brilliant pageant had faded away; yet the scenes of the night were long to linger as pictures on memory’s walls.

In the grey dawn Preston and Jack Heathcote were gathering together their belongings, the evidence of four years as cadets. They had been granted four months’ leave, and on the morrow were to bid farewell to the Point, to enjoy their vacations at home, before joining the regiments to which they would be assigned as subalterns on the frontiers. The Prestons had consented to spend the following week at Highland View, provided the Heathcotes would come to Sunnyside in August. The Virginians became much attached to the Heathcotes in the week which sped by in their hospitable home on the Hudson, and at its close urged them to hasten their promised visit to the Southland.

August days had rolled round, the forests were clothed with dark-hued verdure. The feathered choristers sang blithely in the cool, shady retreats, the fields were waving in the warm breeze of summer; fruits and flowers were in rich profusion, and the portals of Sunnyside were thrown wide to receive its Northern guests. No stone was left unturned to make their visit memorable. A slave was assigned to each member of the family. The days were spent in looking over the plantation; in hunting, fishing, rowing, lawn fetes, picnics, long drives through picturesque dales and woodlands, in which they were joined by neighboring families, filled the fleeting hours. The evenings were delightfully passed on the cool verandas, in the card room, or in boating on the moonlit, placid waters of the Rappahannock.

August was fast drawing to a close, a month which had thrown Henry Preston and Geraldine much together.

A few days only lingered ere the Heathcotes would go North, and the happy summer days would be succeeded by the “sere and yellow leaf 7 of autumn. In the late afternoon Preston and Geraldine had strolled to the riverside, and as the water looked inviting they stepped into a shallop and floated with the current slowly down the stream, which bore them close by the banks beneath the sweeping branches of willow and elm. Birds sang in the branches above them, there was a gentle hum of insects in the luxuriantly wild shrubbery, a few stray sunbeams fell upon Geraldine’s bright tresses, her face was suffused with rosy hues and her fair hand was firmly held in the strong grasp of her boy lover.

“Geraldine,” he said, while a blush mantled his 'brow, “from the time you waved your farewell to Jack and me, when we returned to the Point a year ago, my heart has told me that I love you with a devotion that all the years of the future cannot blot out. Your sweet face has appeared to me amid the irksome duties of the day and haunted my dreams at night. I have ofttimes longed to clasp this little hand in mine and tell you the ‘old, old story 5 , trusting that you might return my love. No sister’s voice has ever filled our home with gladness, and my mother will rejoice to claim you as a daughter. Will you some day be my little wife, sweetheart, and walk along life’s highway with me hand in hand, heart with heart ?”

A whippoorwill sang to its mate in the depths of the leafy recesses ; the bright waters of the river sparkled in the late afternoon sun ; from the fields beyond came the distant songs of the black harvesters; and with misty brown orbs Geraldine looked up into the eager face of him who loved her, who had paid to her the highest tribute which man can offer to woman. A thrill of joy possessed her, she was proud of this great love which he now cast at her feet. He had been the idol of her, brother for four years of cadet life, and her ideal from the first week of his visit at her home on the Hudson, one year before.

With heart filled with emotions which her lips could not express, with imprisoned hand trembling in his, her face lit up with radiant light, her deep affection shining through her tears, she gave him his answer in one short word, which has brought happiness ineffable to thousands, sorrows untold to many —

“Yes.”

Footsteps crushed the dry twigs on the river’s brim near them, a corpulent figure bore aloft a fishing pole, while a can of bait was tightly clutched in a fat, black hand, and a big, round, good-natured face, crowned with a woolly pate, now laughed down upon them from the bank above.

“Wat you doin’. Mars Henry, scarin’ all de fish ’way sose old Car’line can’t git no bites. ’Pears to me you forgits dat I nussed you all dose years while you wus a baby, an’ you’d a died shuah wid de mesles or de hoopincof or de scarlit feber, if it hadn’t a bin for Car’line. Heah you is a-spoonin’ to dis sweet little gal from way up in de Norf an’ de fish done stop bitin’ sose dey kin cum down heah an’ look at her prutty face, an’ I haint ketch nuffin but a crawfish, an’ I bleve he blind.”

After delivering this unexpected address to her young master Aunt Caroline stood and looked down upon them, while her teeth were broadly displayed in her ebony face. She had been his nurse in infancy, watching over him with tenderest care, and his horse in early childhood, bearing him about the plantation on her strong back to show him the beautiful steeds in the stables and kine in the meadows. And how she had worshipped and idolized the fair-haired boy as he grew up strong and sturdy as the young oak of the forest ! How she had missed his merry laugh, his youthful pranks, his handsome face when he had reported at West Point to join the Cadet Corps! Now, most innocently, she had witnessed the last act of the love scene. Geraldine, perforce, smiled through her happy tears, her cheeks took on the hue of the wild pinks along the shore, she sought to disengage her hand, still held by her acccepted lover; but Preston clasped it more firmly, and, after a merry peal of laughter, lifted it up in his own and said:

“Aunt Caroline, Mis little, gal from way up in de Norf’ has just promised to be my wife, and if you will give your consent I think our parents will agree to our union. If you don’t, we will stay right here and stop all the fish from biting, and you will have to go back with only your crawfish for supper.”

“ ’Fore de Lawd, Mars Henry,” she replied, “you does lub to tease ol’ Car’line, an’ I jes pity de one you marries. She won’t hab no peace all day, shuah. I’s a-gwine to tell your ma dat since you has got outen dresses dat you is an awful forward boy, an’ need watchin’ wen you goes out a-botin’. If I’s to git a new red bandana hankchif do, an’ a new cottonade dress to wear to de weddin’, den I ’gree to de marriage.”

With a prolonged chuckle Aunt Caroline trudged heavily away down the river towards the mill, and the soft winds bore back her mellow voice, singing the old plantation song:

I tanked him berry lcvndly as 1 shoved my boat ashore ;

Ari as down the ribber I glided, wid a heart so lite and free.

To de cottage ob my lubly May, de gal 1 so long to see.

“Oh, deares * May, dou art fairer dan de day; Your eyes so bright, dey shine at night Wen de moon am gwine away ”

Chapter II

The August sun was fast sinking behind the forest-clad hilltops, casting long shadows over the vales below. The laborers in the fields were tossing up the last shocks of golden grain and ending their daily tasks. A soft haze fell upon the river, and the lazy, floating clouds caught the last glow of the sunlight as Preston rowed slowly homeward, his heart beating with new life as he looked upon the sweet face of his promised bride.

On the veranda were gathered their parents, enjoying the brilliant sunset, inhaling the perfumes from garden and field, all unconscious of the youthful romance being enacted in their midst. Young Preston boldly advanced upon the group, Geraldine timidly following, her cheeks glowing, her heart pulsating rapidly, her eyes half concealed by drooping lashes.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, as he flourished his broad Panama hat and made a profound obeisance, “permit me to introduce to you my promised wife, the future Mrs. Henry Preston. Father and mother, you will gain a lovely daughter, while Mr. and Mrs. Heathcote will add to their household another son. We have plighted our troth this day and have Aunt Caroline’s consent, so now we stand before you with the hope that you will bless our union and not say us: Nay.”

*Twas a startled group of elders, for but little thought had been given to the results of the constant companionship between their children. But now came this startling revelation from the lips of the embryo army officer, a thunder clap as it were from an unclouded sky. Eyes looked to eyes that spoke the story of halcyon youth, of loves born years ago with the fruition of these young lives, blood of their blood, bone of their bone. The beautiful days of courtship and marriage in “auld lang syne” were now portrayed to them on memory’s canvas, and they drank copious draughts from the fountains of life’s springtide. Here wasa noble son, a petted daughter, following in their footsteps, desiring to become united for time and for eternity and to assume the relationship of man and wife. Each elderly heart beat in unison, and, rising with one accord, they surrounded the two culprits who had stolen a march upon them and bestowed their blessings and wishes for a future of unalloyed bliss.

Up the walk came Jack, swinging along with military stride. “Hello !” he cried, “what in the name of the commandant means all this stage parade? No trumpet call has sounded, no warning note to call me ‘to arms.’ Why these tears of joy, this circling of fours ’round these innocents ?”

Breaking away from the circle, Preston advanced to the steps up which Jack was climbing, and, extending his hand in welcome, replied to his queries of surprise :

“Jack, you are just in as the curtain falls on the last act of to-day’s melodrama. We are to be brothers in future as in the past.”

A new light flashed into Jack’s eyes; his face was radiant. Springing up on the veranda, he called to Geraldine:

“Paragraph 1. — Whereas Second Lieut. Henry Preston, U. S. Army, unassigned, while on leave has been sorely wounded by the shafts from Cupid’s quiver and is for the present totally incapacitated for the performance of any military duty, is hereby granted permission to leave this Department and visit Highland View to recuperate before joining the regiment to which he will be assigned.

“Par. 2. — Asst. Surgeon Geraldine Heathcote, contract physician and healer, is hereby detached from other duties and will use every art known to her science to heal the wounds so received by Lieut. Preston, striving in every way to fit him for service under the colors which he has assumed.

“Par. 3. — The condolence and sympathy of the Department Commander are hereby tendered to the bereaved parents of both Lieut. Preston and Surgeon Heathcote, inasmuch as they will be temporarily deprived of their dutiful services.”

Then he folded Geraldine in his powerful grasp and heartily wished them a happy wedded life.

’Twas a joyful home gathering in the gloaming, and plans for the future were discussed ere the marriage should be consummated. In a few weeks the boys would be assigned to some regiment on the Western borders, to be initiated into the duties of subalterns in distant garrisons and camps. They had chosen the army career, the life of the soldier, and henceforth must serve the flag of their country in peace and in war. Geraldine was to enter a Seminary in Boston for the coming two years, to finish her studies, and after her graduation the wedding should take place in the June days at Highland View, on the banks of the Hudson. The golden days of August came at last to a close — days which filled Sunnyside with brightness, yet brought the shadow of pain as farewells were uttered and the Heathcotes were borne away northward.

Two years of wind and current are but a short voyage on Time’s great river, yet often mark epochs in our lives, bring us to many strange ports. The young subalterns were now bronzed by months of camp life on the plains of the West; they had passed unscathed through many dangers, and*, having been assigned to the same regiment, had ofttimes shared the same night vigil and solaced each other after many a weary march. During all these months no opportunity came- to return to their homes ; but now May was dotting the prairies with myriads of wild flowers and “leave” had been granted them to be absent from their commands for ninety days. They were homeward bound, counting the days and hours ere they could reach the sacred confines of the walls which had sheltered their childhood and youth. The broad bosom of the Ohio bore the craft on which they steamed eastward, and on the moonlit deck they sat and watched the boat’s prow cleave the waters, which were rushing onward to join the turbid Mississippi, “the father of waters.” In June wedding bells would ring their joyful peals and orange blossoms would grace the queenly head of Geraldine. Two long years had passed since they had seen each other. Letters had been oft exchanged breathing of love, of fond affection, but “eyes had ne’er looked love to eyes that spoke again.” They were to part at Pittsburg, each to first visit their parents and in the bright days of early June the Virginians would fly northward to witness Geraldine’s graduation, then join the family party on the Hudson for the wedding, which was to take place on Geraldine’s twentieth birthday.

Shall we describe in detail the home-coming of Jack Heathcote and Henry Preston, how these youngsters were welcomed by loving arms, lionized and petted; or shall we leave it to your imagination to paint these bright pictures? The latter course seems best, and we pass over the happy days intervening between their return and the joyous ringing of wedding bells at twilight on a lovely J une evening a few weeks later.