General Williams insisted that Jennie and her
grandmother find a place of refuge more secure than the coming
battlefield.
They thanked the General but decided to brave battle at home to the
terrors of another flight.
The little band of twenty-five hundred Confederates struck the town like
a thunderbolt and fought with desperation against the combined fleet and
heavy garrison. They drove the Federals at first in panic to the water's
edge and the shelter of the cannon until a Maine regiment barred the
way, fighting like demons, and rallied the fleeing mob. When the smoke
of battle lifted the gray army had gone with the loss of only sixty-five
killed and a hundred and fifty wounded.
The worst calamity which befell Baton Rouge was the death of General
Williams, the gentlemanly and considerate Federal commander.
Butler's man who took his place lacked both his soldierly training and
his fine scruples as a Christian gentleman. There were no more guards
placed around "Rebel" homes.
The marauder came with swift sure tread on the heels of victory.
A squad of officers and men smashed in the front door at Fairview
without so much as a knock for signal. To the shivering servant who
stood in the hall the leader called:
"Where are the damned secesh women? We know they've hid in here and
we'll make them dance for hiding--"
Jennie suddenly appeared in the library door, her face white, her hand
concealed in the pocket of her dress.
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