But before she came back there was a stag party at the captain’s country place, given in honor of General Fish, the provost marshal at Baltimore, and other prominent officers.
The next time I saw Captain Hosmer he had a smile for me.
“You will get your passes,” he said. “I have spoken to General Fish for them.”
Milicent had decided that she could not risk little Bobby on such a journey and at this season, but mother was to go with me. The day before we were to start she and I went down to General Fish’s office. He was out, but an orderly told us rather rudely to sit down and wait, which invitation or command we humbly acted upon. Presently General Fish entered. We stated our case.
“We are Southerners, general, and we wish to go south by way of Harper’s Ferry.”
“Mrs. and Miss Duncan, I think you said?”
“You are the ladies I heard of from Captain Hosmer, then?”
“Excuse me, ladies, while I read this, and I will see what I can do for you.”
“That’s all right. I will make out your passes, ladies,” and in a few minutes the important papers were in our hands.
“These will take you to General Kelly at Harper’s Ferry. There my power ends. You will find General Kelly courteous and considerate, though I make no promises for him, understand. I will furnish you an escort to Harper’s Ferry, and an officer will be sent to your boarding-house this afternoon to examine your baggage. Your address, please.” He wrote a few words rapidly, and called the orderly:
The orderly saluted and got as far as the door, then he turned.
“Do these women go?” he asked of the general.
Upon which the orderly went quickly about his business.
When the officer came to examine our baggage I was on thorns. I had come north intending to make certain purchases, and I had made them, and the fruit of my money and labors was in those two trunks of mother’s and mine. Mother’s trunk was quite a large one, and both of those honest-looking trunks to which I yielded the keys so freely were crammed with dishonest goods--that is, dishonest according to blockade law. I had paid good gold for them, and anxiety enough, Heaven knows, for them to be properly mine.
I had shoes in the bottom of those trunks, and on top of the shoes cloth made into the semblance of female wear and underwear; and, lastly, I had put in genuine every-day garments. There were handkerchiefs, pins, needles, gloves, thread, and all sorts of odds and ends between the folds of garments, here, there, and everywhere in those trunks. They were as contraband trunks as ever crossed into Dixie. But, again, my Yankee was a _gentleman_.