LITMIR.BIZ

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The only thing England and France ain’t got is the one thing we have got, by the field full, and that’s cotton. Let’s hope our friends won’t stand idly by. But even if they do, we can win, if we win quick.”

      “Sir, you told me once that the South would win a long war.”

      “Not a regular war, with regular armies, the way this one is shaping up to be. We could win a hit and run war, like we did the Revolutionary War. Any invaded country, and history will approve me on this, can outlast the invader if they wait long enough. And it will be us who gets invaded.

      “I believe the South can and will win a war with the North if it lasts ten months or ten years. Anything much longer or much shorter, and we’ll be in trouble.

      “One of the problems we got is this notion of Southern chivalry. All you young bloods want uniforms and yessir and nosir and face-to-face fights, more’s the pity. I don’t trust it.

      “I tell you, if we could find a buyer who would run this plantation the way we run it, I would be in favor a’ selling and heading out to see the world.

      “Two things are wrong with the idea. One is faith. Like I say, the South has got the want to, and want to ain’t nothing but faith. If we sell Mulberry, then some folks will think we ain’t got faith and it might shake their own faith a little bit. And it might be that little bit that might be needed to end this war quick, afore we get a lot of our boys killed and kill a lot of Yankee boys who probably ain’t so bad if you could get them to take a bath every now and again.

      “The other thing is that I reckon you’ll feel like you got to fight, and nothing me or Mountain Eagle could do would stop you.

      “You study tonight on what I say, Rabe, and you’ll see I’m right. And then you get some sleep a’cause you’ll need your rest.

      “As of tomorrow daybreak, this here plantation goes on a war footing. Now let’s all have one more taste of brandy, and turn in.”

      Buck and Mountain Eagle soon headed for their beds, but Canon stayed in the library until rooster’s hours. He found pen and paper. Next day, he mailed his letter to Bill Kelley.

      Five weeks later, three hundred black horses ended a long trail drive from Houston when they were herded into a series of new corrals at Mulberry. Kelley had not been able to make the trip, though he had hoped to come so he could attend a ceremony held in Montgomery.

      It was there, on February 18, 1861, that Jefferson Davis was sworn in as president of the Confederate States of America.

      The Canons were present for the oath. Mountain Eagle stayed at Mulberry to continue the care and training of the new horses and the men who would ride them. Canon had advertised in newspapers throughout Alabama for skilled riders to comprise a light brigade of cavalry.

      Within two weeks, he picked three hundred of more than five hundred applicants. The morning of the inauguration, having been elected captain of the unit, Canon enrolled his and three hundred other names on the muster list of the Confederate Army.

      He had reported to the makeshift garrison in Montgomery. There, he was told to return to Mulberry following the day’s ceremony and continue training until such time as needed.

      That evening, he and Buck attended the Inaugural Ball. Buck was uncomfortable in tail coat; Canon was resplendent in his dove gray captain’s uniform.

      Going through the receiving line, he saluted his new commander-in-chief. To his surprise, President Davis leaned over as he shook Canon’s hand and invited him to a meeting in his office.

      Buck was not surprised, and said anybody who lays out the cash for three hundred horses and equipment ought to be in line for a word of thanks from the president of the Confederacy.

      At the named hour of eleven P.M., Canon approached the door of the president’s office and was admitted by one of two burly guards standing sentry.

      Inside, a coal fire tried to cast light throughout the large, well furnished office. Two lowered lanterns assisted the effort, but the room remained dimly lit. Davis greeted him warmly and drew him into the room.

      The president was a small man, dwarfed by Canon’s huge frame. As is the nature of many smaller but successful men, he exhibited an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance.

      Cigar smoke hung heavily in the room. In the feeble light, Canon could make out dim profiles of two men who sat in armchairs facing the fire. One of the men rose, and Canon recognized Robert E. Lee.

      Lee, of late the commandant at West Point, had refused the position of leader of the Union Army in order to accept leadership of the South’s Army of Northern Virginia. He was under the command of General Albert Sydney Johnston, who as general of the armies was to remain in the deep South to command defense of the Western Theater.

      He saluted Lee, then shook his hand.

      “Captain Canon,” said President Davis, “there is someone else here I think you already know.”

      “Forgive me for not rising, Captain,” came a familiar voice from the armchair in front of the fire. “I inadvertently took some black pepper in the president’s otherwise excellent vegetable salad, and my left leg is numb as cork.”

      “Professor!” said a delighted Canon, hurrying to shake his hand. He stopped abruptly and had the forethought to stand at attention and salute. The professor wore colonel’s insignia on the sleeve of his gray coat.

      “Merely a formality, sir,” said the professor genially. “The lads at VMI insisted I lead their unit. I doubt we see action. General Lee disagrees.”

      Lee took it up as he, Davis and Canon took the other armchairs.

      “Oh, I don’t pretend to far sight,” Lee said, “especially with so little to go on. But it appears we must prepare for the worst. That way we shall be ready for anything. If war is thrust upon us, there will certainly be battles. But I wish those people,” he pointed in the general direction of Washington, “would just leave us alone.”

      “Neither do I pretend to far sight,” said Davis. Canon, as had the professor, refused the proffered humidor of Cuban cigars to which Davis was addicted. “We have little to go on as to how serious is the Northern threat of invasion,” Davis resumed. “But it appears to me we must prepare the best we can for the worst to happen. That way we will be ready for anything. There is, after all, the matter of the Star of the West.”

      Canon wondered how the professor would respond to one of the hot issues of the day. On January 9, Confederates at Charleston had fired on the merchant vessel Star of the West as it approached Fort Sumter.

      South Carolina had seceded in December and claimed Fort Sumter as its own. The Union garrison refused to leave. When the Confederacy laid siege to the fort, Star of the West attempted to secretly reinforce Sumter. Soldiers and supplies were concealed in the merchant steamer.

      Many Southerners believed that President-elect Lincoln had intentionally leaked information about the attempted reinforcement, forcing the Confederacy’s hand.

      “It was an astute political move by the North,” said the professor. “The Confederacy is perceived to have committed an overt act of war. But it made little real difference to the situation. It would still be madness for the North to attempt to invade the South, and vice versa.

      “I fully agree that preparation for war is necessary, and we must protect our borders. But I maintain that war with the North is a preposterous notion. Yet we will play our part and set our bluff. And I will pray to God that neither side is so foolish as to start shooting.”

      Discussion of strategies and tactics continued until midnight. Davis had been graduated through West Point as had Jackson. Canon, who was out of his depth and knew it, sat silently in rapt attention for most of the evening.

      As midnight approached, Canon learned the reason for his being included.

      “I have thoroughly enjoyed the companionship of you two this evening,” said Davis.

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