“And I,”thought Scarlett, too stricken now for anything so petty as jealousy,“I've got nothing—nothing—nothing except the look on his face when he told me good-by.”
The first reports were“Missing—believed killed”and so they appeared on the casualty list. Melanie telegraphed Colonel Sloan a dozen times and finally a letter arrived, full of sympathy, explaining that Ashley and a squad had ridden out on a scouting expedition and had not returned.There had been reports of a slight skirmish within the Yankee lines and Mose, frantic with grief, had risked his own life to search for Ashley's body but had found nothing.Melanie, strangely calm now, telegraphed him money and instructions to come home.
When“Missing—believed captured”appeared on the casualty lists, joy and hope reanimated the sad household. Melanie could hardly be dragged away from the telegraph office and she met every train hoping for letters.She was sick now, her pregnancy making itself felt in many unpleasant ways, but she refused to obey Dr.Meade's commands and stay in bed.A feverish energy possessed her and would not let her be still;and at night, long after Scarlett had gone to bed, she could hear her walking the floor in the next room.
One afternoon, she came home from town, driven by the frightened Uncle Peter and supported by Rhett Butler. She had fainted at the telegraph office and Rhett, passing by and observing the excitement, had escorted her home.He carried her up the stairs to her bedroom and while the alarmed household fled hither and yon for hot bricks, blankets and whisky, he propped her on the pillows of her bed.
“Mrs. Wilkes,”he questioned abruptly,“you are going to have a baby, are you not?”
Had Melanie not been so faint, so sick, so heartsore, she would have collapsed at his question. Even with women friends she was embarrassed by any mention of her condition, while visits to Dr.Meade were agonizing experiences.And for a man, especially Rhett Butler, to ask such a question was unthinkable.But lying weak and forlorn in the bed, she could only nod.After she had nodded, it did not seem so dreadful, for he looked so kind and so concerned.
“Then you must take better care of yourself. All this running about and worrying won't help you and may harm the baby.If you will permit me, Mrs.Wilkes, I will use what influence I have in Washington to learn about Mr.Wilkes'fate.If he is a prisoner, he will be on the Federal lists, and if he isn't—well, there's nothing worse than uncertainty.But I must have your promise.Take care of yourself or, before God, I won't turn a hand.”
“Oh, you are so kind,”cried Melanie.“How can people say such dreadful things about you?”Then overcome with the knowledge of her tactlessness and also with horror at having discussed her condition with a man, she began to cry weakly. And Scarlett, flying up the stairs with a hot brick wrapped in flannel, found Rhett patting her hand.
He was as good as his word. They never knew what wires he pulled.They feared to ask, knowing it might involve an admission of his too close affiliations with the Yankees.It was a month before he had news, news that raised them to the heights when they first heard it, but later created a gnawing anxiety in their hearts.
Ashley was not dead!He had been wounded and taken prisoner, and the records showed that he was at Rock Island, a prison camp in Illinois. In their first joy, they could think of nothing except that he was alive.But, when calmness began to return, they looked at one another and said“Rock Island!”in the same voice they would have said“In Hell!”For even as Andersonville was a name that stank in the North, so was Rock Island one to bring terror to the heart of any Southerner who had relatives imprisoned there.
When Lincoln refused to exchange prisoners, believing it would hasten the end of the war to burden the Confederacy with the feeding and guarding of Union prisoners, there were thousands of bluecoats at Andersonville, Georgia. The Confederates were on scant rations and practically without drugs or bandages for their own sick and wounded.They had little to share with the prisoners.They fed their prisoners on what the soldiers in the field were eating, fat pork and dried peas, and on this diet the Yankees died like flies, sometimes a hundred a day.Inflamed by the reports, the North resorted to harsher treatment of Confederate prisoners and at no place were conditions worse than at Rock Island.Food was scanty, one blanket did for three men, and the ravages of smallpox, pneumonia and typhoid gave the place the name of a pesthouse.Three-fourths of all the men sent there never came out alive.
And Ashley was in that horrible place!Ashley was alive but he was wounded and at Rock Island, and the snow must have been deep in Illinois when he was taken there. Had he died of his wound, since Rhett had learned his news?Had he fallen victim to smallpox?Was he delirious with pneumonia and no blanket to cover him?
“Oh, Captain Butler, isn't there some way—Can't you use your influence and have him exchanged?”cried Melanie.
“Mr. Lincoln, the merciful and just, who cries large tears over Mrs.Bixby's five boys, hasn't any tears to shed about the thousands of Yankees dying at Andersonville,”said Rhett, his mouth twisting.“He doesn't care if they all die.The order is out.No exchanges.I—I hadn't told you before, Mrs.Wilkes, but your husband had a chance to get out and refused it.”
“Oh, no!”cried Melanie in disbelief.
“Yes, indeed. The Yankees are recruiting men for frontier service to fight the Indians, recruiting them from among Confederate prisoners.Any prisoner who will take the oath of allegiance and enlist for Indian service for two years will be released and sent West.Mr.Wilkes refused.”
“Oh, how could he?”cried Scarlett.“Why didn't he take the oath and then desert and come home as soon as he got out of jail?”
Melanie turned on her like a small fury.