"It's true," he whispered. "They have come for Clay and me. Try not to weep. These people will gloat over your grief."
Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Clay stood close holding each other's hands in silent sympathy and grim determination to control their emotions. They parted with their husbands in dumb anguish.
As the tug bore the fallen Chieftain from the ship, he bared his head, drew his tall figure to its full height, and, standing between the files of soldiers, gazed on his wife and weeping children until the mists drew their curtain over the solemn scene.
Mrs. Davis' stateroom was entered now by a raiding party headed by Captain Hudson. Her trunks were again forced open and everything taken which the Captain or his men desired—among them all her children's clothes. Jeff seized his little soldier uniform of Confederate gray and ran with it. He managed to hide and save it.
Captain Hudson then demanded the shawl which Davis had thrown over his shoulders on the damp morning when he was captured.
"You have no right to steal my property," his wife replied indignantly. "Peace has been declared. The war is over. This is plain robbery."
Hudson called in another file of soldiers.
"Hand out that shawl or I'll take the last rag you have on earth. I'll pay you for it, if you wish. But I'm going to have it."
Mrs. Davis took the shawl from Mrs. Clay's shoulders and handed it to the brute.
"At least I may get rid of your odious presence," she cried, "by complying with your demand."