Battle Flag

Major Galloway, a kindly man, was nervous around the famous abolitionist and relieved when the Reverend Starbuck a

But before joining Banks the preacher had agreed to this meeting with Major Galloway and his men. He spoke to Galloway's regiment in the meadow behind the house, where he encouraged them to fight the good fight, but his brusque ma

"A slave owner, too?" the preacher demanded fiercely, pointing with his ebony cane at the small cabins that lay to the north of the house.

"I freed all the people," Galloway said hastily. "If I'd sold them, sir," he went on, "I wouldn't be needing to beg money for the regiment. I mortgaged the farm to raise funds, sir, and used all the money to buy the horses and weapons you've just seen, but frankly, sir, I've no resources left. I've made myself pe

"In which cause we must all be prepared to suffer, Galloway," the Reverend Starbuck exclaimed as he followed the Major up the veranda steps and into the hallway. The house echoed like an empty building, which it very nearly was, for with the exception of a few essential pieces of furniture Galloway had sent all his books and pictures and drapes and ornaments north into storage so that his rebellious neighbors could not take revenge on his allegiance by stealing his valuables. And if his neighbors did not steal the goods, he explained, his own brother would. "My brother fights for the South, alas," Major Galloway told the preacher, "and he'd like nothing more than to take the house and its contents from me." He paused for an instant. "There's nothing sadder, sir, is there, than family members fighting on opposite sides?" The Reverend Starbuck offered a belligerent grunt as answer, and that ill-tempered noise should have warned Major Galloway against proceeding further with the conversation, but the Major was a guileless man. "Am I right, sir," Galloway asked, "in believing you have a son who fights with the rebels?"

"I know of no such person," the preacher said, stiffening perceptibly.

"But Nate, surely—" Adam began, only to be fiercely interrupted.

"I have no son called Nathaniel," the preacher snapped. "I recognize no person called Nathaniel Starbuck. He is doomed, he is cast out, not only from my family, but also from the loving congregation of Christ! He is a reprobate!" This last condemnation was trumpeted in a voice that might have carried a half-mile into a mighty wind.

Galloway realized he had been tactless and so hurried on, talking inconsequentially about the house and its amenities until he reached the doors of the library, where a tall, heavy-set Captain waited. The Captain had a ready smile and a quick, friendly ma

"Sure glad to meet you, Reverend." Blythe extended a hand.

"Captain Blythe was a horse trader before the war," Galloway said.

"You should never have told the minister that, Joe!" Blythe said with a smile. "Everyone knows that us horse traders are the crookedest folks this side of tarnation, but God bless me, sir"—he had turned back to the preacher—"I tried to be as honest a trader as a Christian man could."

"I'm glad to hear it," the Reverend Starbuck said stiffly.

"A hundred cents to an honest dollar, sir, that was always my way," Blythe said cheerfully, "and if I ever rooked a man, sir, why it was never on purpose. And I'll tell you another thing, sir." Blythe dropped his voice confidingly. "If ever a man of the cloth wanted a horse, why sir, I swallowed the profit and sometimes a good bit more besides. I confess I was never a churchgoing man myself, sir, to my regret, but my pa always contended that a bucketful of prayer never hurt no one and my dear ma, God bless her dear soul, fair wore out her knees on the church planking. And she sure would have liked to hear you speaking, sir, for they all say you do a mighty sermon!"

The Reverend Starbuck seemed pleased by Blythe's forthright and friendly ma

Blythe released his grip so that he could turn an astonished face to the Reverend Starbuck. "Washed white in the blood of the lamb, Reverend," Blythe said in a voice that suggested shock that anyone might have taken him for a heathen. "In fact I'm fair swilled in that precious blood, sir. My dear ma made sure of that before she died, praise the Lord and God rest her dear soul."

"And your mother, Captain, would approve of your allegiance in this war?" the Reverend Starbuck asked.

Captain William Blythe frowned to show his sincerity. "My dear mother, God bless her simple soul, sir, always said that in the eyes of God a nigra's soul was the same as any white man's. So long as that nigra's a Christian, of course. Then come heaven time, she said, we'd all be white as snow, even the blackest nigra, praise the Lord for His goodness." Blythe raised his eyes to the ceiling, then, over the unsuspecting preacher's head, offered Major Galloway an outrageous wink.

Galloway cut short his second-in-command's blarney by seating his guest at the library's large table, which was heaped with account books. Galloway, Adam, and Blythe sat opposite the preacher, and the Major described his ambitions for his regiment of cavalry; how they would ride the Southern paths with a confidence and local knowledge that no Northern horseman could hope to match. The Major spoke modestly, stressing the army's need for good reco

Galloway merely looked surprised, while Adam stared at the table's scarred top, but the Reverend Starbuck was delighted by the implications of Blythe's promise. "You have specific plans?" he asked eagerly.