“But to where? Richmond?”

“Back to Lee, I think. I should like to be a witness of the bitter end,” Delaney said. He thought there might well be a book in it. A tragedy, probably, for though Lee was his country’s enemy, he was a good man, but Delaney doubted whether goodness was the quality that won wars; only might, hard resolve, and low treachery could do that.

Delaney turned his horse and cantered west. He had betrayed the Confederacy to McClellan and now prayed he would be a witness to its destruction.

The federal general who formally surrendered the Harper’s Ferry garrison was splendidly uniformed in gold-braided blue with a shining scabbard hanging from his belt, while Jackson, accepting the great prize, was in a filthy homespun coat, shabby boots, and with his battered cadet cap crammed over uncut, dirty hair. Jackson, even in victory, looked grim, though he did allow himself a smile when Starbuck’s hearse came into view. The vehicle was being pulled by the skirmishers of Potter’s company, while Potter himself was riding on the box from where he cracked an imaginary whip. The Yankee General, still at Jackson’s side, wondered for the hundredth time why McClellan had not come to the garrison’s rescue and then, at the sight of the hearse, was overcome with mortification as he realized the utter shame of being defeated by such ragamuffin troops. None of the victorious rebels was better dressed than their general, and most were worse; indeed some of Jackson’s men limped into the town on bare feet while the beaten Yankees were outfitted with the best products of the industrial North.

Colonel Swynyard came hurrying down the column in search of Starbuck. “You can jettison your death-cart, Nate!” the colonel called. “The town’s crammed with wagons. New wagons, fine wagons. I’ve left young Coffman guarding a pair for you. Told him to shoot any rogue who dared lay a finger on them. And I daresay we can give most of your fellows rifles now, there must be thousands here! And food. It’s like Manassas Junction all over again.”

For once again Jackson had captured a major Federal supply base, and once again his hungry, footsore, ill-dressed troops were given run of the North’s largesse. Whoops of joy greeted each opened crate. Tinned meat was prized open with bayonets and real coffee set to boil on fires made from splintered crates that had carried brand-new rifles. Jackson’s commissary officers did their best to see that the most needy units received the pick of the plunder, but the chaos was too great and the first arrivals grabbed most of the choice pickings. Starbuck’s men were early enough to find some rifles, boots, food, and ammunition, but not enough for every man, yet Starbuck was able to give two of his four musket-carrying companies brand-new Springfield rifles still coated in their factory grease. The rifle locks were inscribed 1862 and were handsomely engraved with an American eagle and U.S. SPRINGFIELD. The hearse and one of the two wagons were loaded up with cartridges for the new rifles.