"God bless you, ladies! We're going to fight for you!"
Jennie drew her handkerchief, waved and sobbed the chorus in reply.
"God bless you, soldiers! Fight for us!"
Four hours later the black gunboats swung at their anchors. The proud
little conquered city lay at the mercy of their guns.
Jennie watched them with shining eyes, and that without fear. The Union
flag was streaming from every peak and halyard.
The girl rushed home, made a flag five inches long, pinned it to her
shoulder and deliberately walked down town. Mattie Morgan joined her at
the corner and drew one from the folds of her dress, emboldened by the
example.
They marched straight to the State House terrace to take a good look at
the _Brooklyn_ lying close inshore. Fifteen or twenty Federal officers
were standing on the first terrace, stared at by the crowd as if they
were wild beasts.
"Oh, Mattie," Jennie faltered. "We didn't expect to meet these people.
What shall we do?"
"Stand by your colors now. There's nothing else to do."
On they marched, hearts thumping painfully with conscious humiliation at
their silly bravado. Fine, noble-looking, quiet fellows those officers
in blue--refinement and gentlemanly bearing in every movement of their
stalwart bodies.
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