I ’VE HEARD IT SAID THAT DOGS AND CATS SEE HAUNTS, AND THIS BLACK canine1 has given truth
to that legend. She prowls the library doorway2 with a ruff the envy of any lion, snarling3 while
peering straight at me. She makes me laugh, but I’m gratified to say, she distresses4 her mistress.
“C’mon, c’mon now, Emma. Stop that foolishness.” The dog looks at me out of the corner of
her eyes and growls5 one last time. The woman drags her away by her pink collar, glancing
furtively6 over her shoulder into the room, hoping to see nothing. Sometimes this dog, when
contented7, puts me in mind of Old Susie. An admirable creature, she showed up during the early
days in Harpers Ferry.
Sam, Tayloe, and I benefited mightily8 from others’ misfortune—finding an abandoned cottage
up on Ridge9 Street along the row of arsenal10 workers’ housing. The floor was littered with odds11
and ends from a hasty departure: a baby quilt, yards of linen12, woolen13 pants and coats, a book or
two, as well as chests and empty bedsteads too cumbersome14 to be hauled away. I fingered a
delicate lace glove dropped by the door and tried to conjure15 its owner. Maybe she was a fair,
soft-skinned young woman. One with a waist so small I could span it with my two hands. But
Sam’s call from within the house destroyed my reverie.
There were soon twelve of us competing for a spot to sleep. Our place was as overrun as the
rest along that street—each crammed16 with boys persuaded that for daring an early raid they
deserved this luxurious17 shelter. Thousands of latecomers squatted18 in flimsy tents ringing the
town.
About a week after we’d settled in, several of us reclined on the porch steps during sundown.
Some swigged brew19 peddled20 by enterprising mountain folks who had found an eager market in
boys new to inebriants in such quantity and regularity21. Sounds and smells of retching wafted22
through the evening air. Imboden hadn’t foreseen the need for food, and the shelves of every
merchant had been swept clean days earlier. We prayed for the arrival of fathers, uncles, and
brothers driving wagons24 loaded with eatables.
“This entire town is nothing but a stinking25 hole, and this hovel’s no better,” Tayloe griped.
“You don’t smell much like a rose yourself,” I said. “I bet those clothes you’re wearing
haven’t seen soap and water in weeks.”
“Look who’s talking,” he said.
At that moment, we spotted26 one of the Mississippi boys sauntering along the street, dragging
behind him a sorry yellow dog with a noose27 around its neck. Its head bobbed low, and its tail
sagged28 along its flanks.
“Say, hold up! Where you going with that miserable29 creature?” Sam had risen to his feet, top
hat at an angle. The scrawny lad stopped in his tracks. He was struggling to sprout30 a beard, and a
cowlick sprouted31 from spikes32 of greasy33 hair. He scratched his belly34 under his shirt before
answering.
“This is a goddamned union dog, left behind by those filthy35 Lincolnites. The boys and I are
about to teach it something about the new Confederacy.” We barely understood his drunken
drawl, but it was clear that whatever activity he had planned would be the animal’s last. She
yelped36 as he kicked at her skinny ribs37.
Sam’s eye fell on a piece of rope draped over a chair back. “Wait a minute now. I have
something you may want more than that useless cur. An item that is rare and valuable, of some
historical merit. Come over and take a look.” As the drunken fellow peered through the dusk at
Sam’s hand, he continued. “This here was torn down from the gallows38 in Charles Town in ’59.
It was part of the rope that swung that devil John Brown. I hate to part with it, but I’ve always
wanted to get myself a dog—and a yellow one at that.”
The boy paused. The idea of having such a thing clearly tickled39 his fancy. “Where’d you get
that? I heard some chap is hawking40 genuine John Brown souvenirs, but I don’t have the money
to get none. I seen chunks41 of a stump42 that Governor Wise dismounted on and strips of pine
planking from the gallows. But the rope that hung John Brown would impress the bejesus out of
folks at home.”
“Hell, this piece could have been the one to choke Brown dead. Right across his Adam’s
apple.” Sam angled his hand across his neck to make the point. He then held out his rope in
exchange for the one that throttled43 the dog. The Mississippian agreed, smug with confidence he
had gotten the better deal. The dog used every last bit of her energy to put her paws on Sam’s
knees and swipe a lick of gratitude44 across his cheek.
That’s how we came by Susie Louise Dedrick, Old Susie for short, named by Sam after a girl
back home who’d stolen his heart. It would be hard to find a better or more appreciative45 animal.
After giving up a profound sigh of contentment, she’d sleep at night with her head on one of our
chests, liquid eyes occasionally half-open to lather46 her saviors in adoration47.
Just as we thought we might starve due to Imboden’s complete poverty of planning, my
father and Mr. Lucas drove three days to the Ferry with a wagon23 loaded with hams, dried beef,
apples, potatoes, and bread. When Pa jumped from the wagon to greet us, I almost knocked him
down with a hug. Laughing heartily48, he slapped me on the back. That food never tasted better,
even at home. Old Susie got the leftover49 fat and tough bits and licked crumbs50 from my chin and
fingers. Afterward51, she sighed with the same deep happiness that I felt as she curled at my feet.
Every day, Susie padded along to the arsenal as we dismantled52 any useable equipment for
shipment to Richmond. She skulked53 about the thousands of heat-bent weapons while she tried to
rustle54 up a meal of river rats. I grew dependent upon her company, the feel of her warm head
under my hand, her silken ears between my fingers, and her exuberant55 greeting whenever she
spied us. She eased my growing homesickness.
One day in late April before Tom Jackson arrived to take charge, a group of Georgia boys
hailed us to join them in some merriment. A United States mail train had been detained, and a
quantity of incoming Harpers Ferry letters lay undelivered in the rail cars. Springing up through
the yawning doors, boys ripped into the bags, spilling envelopes and packages everywhere.
Some lads perched on unopened sacks. Others reclined on the car floor and read as Sam and I
rifled in vain for love missives we could pretend were intended for us. Susie had leaped into the
car and entertained herself pouncing56 through the stacks, envelopes cascading57 over her nose.
Tayloe ripped through the envelopes like a man gone mad and then yelped, “Got one! Listen
to this!” In a falsetto voice, batting his eyelashes like a girl, he read a letter from a young wife in
Virginia to her husband in Ohio. Sam and I howled like coyotes when he got to the part where
she described yearning58 to be enfolded in his arms again. Susie added a yowl or two to our
chorus.
The Georgians were looking for a different kind of declaration—one that linked the recipient59
to the union. They were speedily rewarded with a letter addressed to William McCoy from a
relative in Pennsylvania. McCoy was a neighbor close by up on Bolivar Street. As he strolled
past our cottage, I remarked in my homesickness that he was of my father’s age and bearing.
“Let’s pay a call on this William McCoy and show him who’s in charge now,” one boy
hollered.
“Huzzah, huzzah,” shouted others, pumping their fists. “Let’s do it!” They jumped from the
mail car and huffed up the hill, snatching up stones as they ran. The three of us tagged along,
curious to see what they might do. When we arrived, sorely out of breath, stones were already
bouncing off the Bolivar Street house. Glass had splintered into the hedges, and the picket60 fence
had collapsed61 under battering62 boots. Somebody had kicked in the wooden door. McCoy
emerged with arms raised, shielding his face. Nevertheless, rocks found their mark on his chest
and belly, and blood trickled63 from a cut above his bristling64 white eyebrows65. His denials counted
for nothing against the accusatory shouts of his attackers. Truth be known, I’m sorry to admit
that we heaved some stones too. Sam, Tayloe, and I trailed after as the mob prodded66 and pushed
the broken man to the town’s center. To his relief, I’m certain, he was locked up in the local jail.
His confiscated67 property immediately became officers’ lodgings68, and we heard from our
Culpeper captain that McCoy would be shipped penniless out to Ohio.
Later that month, not long after Commander Thomas Jackson came to town to take control, I
passed near the same boys again strolling down Bolivar Street. I followed far enough behind not
to attract attention but listened to their chatter69. They were mocking Jackson behind his back.
“The man don’t know nothing about soldiering. He ain’t even got a uniform,” one said.
“He dresses no better than my daddy,” another said.
This was before Commander Jackson banned all liquor, demoted the Ferry’s officers, formed
up daily muster70 and parade details, and forbade those troublemakers71 from coming into town. I’m
sure they had plenty worse to say about him then.
The smartest thing Jackson did was to band all of us fellows from the same localities into
distinct companies. He knew we’d fight more fiercely to protect boys we had known at home.
Tayloe, Sam, and I joined the rest from Augusta and neighboring Rockbridge County in
Company D, although it would be another month before there would be a real Confederate
army.
And Jackson worked us like dogs, unlike the officers who came with us to the Ferry. He
forced us to parade in parallel rows six hours a day under baking sun and pelting72 rain. Every
day, a number of us boys fell out from fatigue73. My feet swelled74 in my boots until I had to fight
to pull them on, which was torture with so many seeping75 blisters76. Old Susie lazed under trees on
the sidelines, scratched her floppy77 ears, panted, and occasionally chased after a squirrel. She
then padded at our heels as we trudged78 back to the house on the ridge. At the end of the day, the
adoring swipe of her tongue on my cheek and the love radiating from her brown eyes almost
made up for all the discomfort79.
By late May, I doubted I was cut out to be a soldier. This was nothing like my imagining. We
had been ordered to wreck80 the rail lines passing through Harpers Ferry that carried coal from
western Virginia east to the coast. This meant hefting a sledgehammer above your head and
smashing it down against iron rails. Grunting81 and cussing, we’d then shove them beyond the rail
lines, and do it again. To make the time pass, I counted the strokes. As many as a thousand times
a day, I’d swing that leaden sledgehammer. As the sun dove behind the mountains, Tayloe, Sam,
and I dragged wooden ties to bonfires alongside the former track, where they were incinerated.
At night, my throbbing82 muscles seemed to have come unstuck from the bones.
“Have you heard anything about union troops gathering83 for an assault on the Ferry?” Sam
asked one evening while we were resting on the porch. He leaned back on his elbows, allowing
his legs to slope down the porch steps.
I was studying the nimbus of clouds forming around the moon, a sure predictor of rain. “Let
them come,” I replied. “It’ll give us something to brag84 about when we’re back home.”
Jackson’s orders to destroy everything the Yanks might find useful at the Ferry led us to
believe they were coming for us soon. Explosions under the Baltimore and Ohio rail bridges
were so loud that they rocked the house up on Bolivar Street. We could see the smoking metal
carcasses from the upper windows as their twisted struts85 were lapped by the river tides. Every
day we attacked the water towers with sledgehammers until their supports finally began to
crumble86. With an earsplitting crack, the wooden tanks slid sideways, and we leaped out of the
way before they toppled with a mighty87 crash. If townspeople thought our arrival had brought
chaos88 and destruction, our departure would be worse.
The wait for the Yanks’ arrival dragged on and on. And then they never came. Our captain
finally ordered us to cook five days’ provisions and said we’d be setting out in the morning for a
two-day march to Manassas.
“Hogsbreath. Manassas? All this time we’ve been waiting to do what we came for in the
spring—to defeat the Yanks at the Ferry,” said Tayloe. The others shared his disappointment,
and truth be known, fear.
“We know the Ferry’s ins and outs,” I said. “I’d rather fight the enemy on familiar ground.
We don’t know anything about Manassas!”
The sad day was drawing near when we would have to bid farewell to Old Susie. Tagging
beside a regiment89 of soldiers with uncertain fates was no prospect90 for a dog. Whenever there
was thunder, she’d tremble by my side and then burrow91 under my bedroll. I knew she’d suffer
greatly from the blasts of artillery92 fire that would roll across battlefields—if she had not first
been blown to smithereens. Rebel sympathizers on our street had shared their meager93 food with
us before we were regarded as a scourge94, and I persuaded them to take Susie.
She must have sensed our intent because in the preceding hours she circled and whined95, her
tail hanging low as one betrayed. She’d lean into our legs as she made her circuit, as if her touch
could persuade us to change our minds. It broke my heart to give her up. The family would be
taking her and moving on not long after the troops departed. The Ferry would become a
wasteland, populated only by looters who wheeled barrows to the larger houses and carted off
what we hadn’t destroyed.
Nevertheless, I kept a lookout96 for Susie in the coming years as we circled around the Ferry
area. I searched for her in the starving packs of dogs that occasionally begged around our
campgrounds, just in case. But I never saw her again. Toward the bitter last, the population of all
creatures smaller than man sharply declined. I preferred to think that Susie lived out her days
contentedly97, away from the dangerous world that would soon be ours. I didn’t realize it at the
time, but giving her up would be the first of many heartbreaks.
点击
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1
canine
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| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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3
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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distresses
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| n.悲痛( distress的名词复数 )；痛苦；贫困；危险 | |
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growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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6
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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7
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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8
mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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9
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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10
arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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11
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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12
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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13
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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14
cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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15
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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16
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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17
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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18
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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19
brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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20
peddled
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| （沿街）叫卖( peddle的过去式和过去分词 )； 兜售； 宣传； 散播 | |
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21
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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22
wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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24
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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25
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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26
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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27
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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28
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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29
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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30
sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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31
sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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32
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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35
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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36
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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38
gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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40
hawking
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| 利用鹰行猎 | |
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41
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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42
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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43
throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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44
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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46
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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47
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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48
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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49
leftover
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| n.剩货，残留物，剩饭；adj.残余的 | |
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50
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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51
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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52
dismantled
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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53
skulked
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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55
exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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56
pouncing
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的现在分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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57
cascading
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| 流注( cascade的现在分词 )； 大量落下； 大量垂悬； 梯流 | |
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58
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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59
recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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60
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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61
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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63
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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confiscated
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| 没收，充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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troublemakers
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| n.惹是生非者，捣乱者( troublemaker的名词复数 ) | |
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pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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seeping
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的现在分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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floppy
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| adj.松软的，衰弱的 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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struts
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| （框架的）支杆( strut的名词复数 )； 支柱； 趾高气扬的步态； （尤指跳舞或表演时）卖弄 | |
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crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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