The general, who was always on the alert, ordinarily began his work with the sun, and rarely did he stop with the setting of it, either. The next morning, therefore, he was at his headquarters at an unusually early hour.
Fortune had favored him in that one of the harbor patrol boats, making a daring reconnaissance about midnight, to discover if possible what had happened to the David, had captured a whale boat from one of the union ships, bound on a similar errand, and had brought her crew to the city. By questioning them Beauregard learned of the blowing up of the Housatonic, and the almost certain loss of the torpedo1 boat. He was sorry that he missed the Wabash and the admiral, and intensely grieved over the lack of any tidings from the David or her men, which, however, caused him little surprise, but he was glad, indeed, they had been so brilliantly successful in eliminating the magnificent new steam sloop-of-war Housatonic from the force blockading them.
Incidentally he learned, with some additional satisfaction, that Admiral Vernon was to be relieved of his command on account of illness and was going North with his flagship in a few days. The admiral had shown himself so intensely enterprising and pugnacious2 that Beauregard hoped and expected that any change in opponents would be for the betterment of the situation from the Southern point of view.
When he had digested the important news of the morning, he sent for his prisoner of the night before. The general had been very indignant on the wharf3, and justly so, but he instinctively4 felt that there was something in the situation, which, if he could get at it, might relieve from the odium of his position the young officer, whose family history, no less than his personal character, absolutely negatived the idea of cowardice5 or treachery.
General Beauregard hoped that by questioning him quietly and calmly, and by representing to him the critical situation in which he found himself, that he might induce him to clear up the mystery. He spoke6 to him kindly7, therefore, when he was ushered8 into the room and bade him be seated. He marked with soldierly appreciation9 of the lieutenant10's feelings the evidences of his sleepless11 night, the anguish12 of his soul, in the haggard look upon his face.
"Mr. Sempland," he began with impressive and deliberate gravity, carefully weighing his words that they might make the deeper impression upon the younger man, for whom he felt profound pity, "you bear one of the noblest names in the commonwealth14. I knew your father and your grandfather. They were men of the highest courage and of unimpeachable15 honor. Their devotion to the South cannot be questioned. I grieve more than I can say to find you in so equivocal a position. I am convinced that there is some explanation for it, and I ask you, not as your general, but as your friend, to disclose it to me."
"You called me a coward last night, sir."
"In the heat of my disappointment and surprise I did make use of that term, sir. It was a mistake. I regret it," said the general, magnanimously. "I do not believe your failure to take out the David arose from any fear."
This was a great concession16 indeed, and Sempland was intensely relieved, and an immense load was lifted from his breast by the general's reassuring17 words.
"Sir, I thank you. I could have borne anything than that."
"But, my boy," continued the general, severely18, "you must remember that you still lie under the imputation19 of treachery to the South, and you will recognize readily that such an accusation20 is scarcely less terrible than the other."
"General Beauregard, believe me, sir," burst out Sempland, impetuously, "I pledge you my word of honor, I am not a traitor21 to the South, I would die for my country gladly if it would do her service. I fully13 intended to take out the David. I begged for the detail, and was thankful beyond measure to you for giving it to me. I was overwhelmed with anger and dismay and horror at my failure. I swear to you, sir, by all that is good and true, by everything holy, that it was not my fault that I was not there—I—I—was detained."
"Detained? By whom?"
Sempland only bit his lip and looked dumbly at the general.
"Come, my boy, I want to help you," said the veteran officer, persuasively22. "Who, or what, detained you? Where were you detained? It must have been some man—or was it a woman? Tell me, and, by heavens, I'll make such an example of the traitor as will never be forgotten in South Carolina or the Confederacy!"
"I cannot, sir."
"Think! Your rank, your honor, it may be your life, all depend upon your reply. You are concealing23 something from me. You do not answer," continued Beauregard, keenly scanning the face of the young man standing24 before him in stubborn silence. "I see that you are shielding some one, sheltering some unworthy person. Who is it?"
Still no answer. The general's patience was gradually vanishing in the face of such obstinacy25. Yet he restrained his growing displeasure, and continued his questioning.
"Where did you go after you left me?"
"To my quarters, sir, to write a letter."
"Were you there all the time?"
"No, sir."
"Where did you go after the letter was written?"
No answer.
"Major Lacy said—" began the general, changing his tactics.
"Did he tell you?" cried Sempland, in sudden alarm and great dismay.
"He knew then?" exclaimed the general, triumphant26 in his clew. "No, he didn't tell. He never will tell now. I have learned from a picket27 boat that was captured last night by our patrols, that nothing was seen of the David after the explosion."
"Poor Lacy!" said Sempland. "Well, sir, he died the death of his choice."
"Yes," said Beauregard, "little in life became him as the ending of it."
A little silence fell between the two in the room.
"And I might have been there," said Sempland at last.
"I had rather see you dead, sir, than in your present case," commented the general, deftly28.
"Yes, sir, and I'd rather be there myself," returned the young man, "but I—I beg your pardon, General, were they successful?"
"In a measure. They missed the Wabash, but blew up the Housatonic."
"Did the cotton ships get out?"
"Unfortunately, no. One of them was sunk. The other two returned in safety. But all this is beside the question. We are losing sight of the main point. For the last time, will you tell me why you failed to be on hand?"
"General Beauregard, as I said, I would rather be where Lacy is now than have failed as I did, but I cannot tell you what detained me"
"For the last time, Mr. Sempland, I beg of you to answer me. You know the consequences?"
The general spoke sharply now. Such determination and contumacy had at last got the better of his patience and forbearance. He had tried to save Sempland, but the young officer would give him no assistance. Well, on his own head it would be.
"You realize what is before you, sir?"
"Yes, sir."
"A court-martial. Possibly—nay, certainly, death. For in the face of your refusal to explain I can do nothing more for you."
Sempland bowed to the inevitable29.
"You have said," he began, "that you did not believe I was a coward, nor a traitor. If you will not allow the stigma30 of either of these charges to rest upon me, I will bear with equanimity31 whatever punishment the court-martial may award."
"Even to loss of life?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well," said the general, shrugging his shoulders, a trick of his French ancestry32. "I have done my best, Mr. Sempland, for you. As to my personal beliefs, I can and will express them, but I cannot tell whether the court-martial will receive them or not. Will nothing move you?"
"Nothing, sir."
The general struck a bell on the desk before him.
"Orderly," he said, as a soldier presented himself, "my compliments to the assistant adjutant-general. Ask him to come here. Ah, General Wylie," he said as that functionary33 presented himself, "will you make out an order assembling a court-martial to try Lieutenant Rhett Sempland, here, for disobedience of orders and neglect of duty in the presence of the enemy, and—well, that will be enough, I think," he continued after a pause which was fraught34 with agony to Sempland at least, lest the general should mention cowardice or treason again. "Meanwhile see that Mr. Sempland is carefully guarded here in the headquarters building."
"Very good, sir," said the officer, saluting35. "This way, Mr. Sempland."
点击收听单词发音
1 torpedo | |
n.水雷,地雷;v.用鱼雷破坏 | |
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2 pugnacious | |
adj.好斗的 | |
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3 wharf | |
n.码头,停泊处 | |
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4 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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5 cowardice | |
n.胆小,怯懦 | |
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6 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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7 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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8 ushered | |
v.引,领,陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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10 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
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11 sleepless | |
adj.不睡眠的,睡不著的,不休息的 | |
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12 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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13 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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14 commonwealth | |
n.共和国,联邦,共同体 | |
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15 unimpeachable | |
adj.无可指责的;adv.无可怀疑地 | |
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16 concession | |
n.让步,妥协;特许(权) | |
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17 reassuring | |
a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的,使人放心的 | |
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18 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
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19 imputation | |
n.归罪,责难 | |
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20 accusation | |
n.控告,指责,谴责 | |
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21 traitor | |
n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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22 persuasively | |
adv.口才好地;令人信服地 | |
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23 concealing | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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24 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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25 obstinacy | |
n.顽固;(病痛等)难治 | |
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26 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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27 picket | |
n.纠察队;警戒哨;v.设置纠察线;布置警卫 | |
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28 deftly | |
adv.灵巧地,熟练地,敏捷地 | |
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29 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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30 stigma | |
n.耻辱,污名;(花的)柱头 | |
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31 equanimity | |
n.沉着,镇定 | |
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32 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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33 functionary | |
n.官员;公职人员 | |
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34 fraught | |
adj.充满…的,伴有(危险等)的;忧虑的 | |
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35 saluting | |
v.欢迎,致敬( salute的现在分词 );赞扬,赞颂 | |
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