AFTER THE BATTLE
Berry’s absence from home on the morning of the battle of Shiloh made
Mr. and Mrs. Arnold seriously anxious. The fact that Lily had also
disappeared was of some comfort, however, for they knew the colored
girl would do her best to protect and shield her young mistress
from any danger. The position of the Arnolds’ cabin in the remote
ravine was, fortunately, out of range of the guns, and the terrible
encounters between the Confederate and Union forces were all several
miles beyond the ridge that sheltered the cabin. But Sunday, with the
echoing sound of guns, passed slowly by to the nearly frantic parents.
To venture far from the cabin was not to be considered; and, added to
their anxiety for Berry, was the fear of what might have befallen Mrs.
Bragg and Mollie. But at the approach of night the sound of musketry
ceased, the roar of cannon died away for a time, and a heavy rain
began to fall. But with darkness came a new sound: Union gunboats
had come up the Tennessee River and began a steady fire upon the
Confederates. Sleep was impossible, and when Monday morning came Mr.
Arnold declared that he must go in search of Berry, and Mrs. Arnold
determined to accompany him. But as they turned down the familiar
trail, two miles from the cabin, to the brook, where Berry had met
the spy, they could see the dense smoke from the guns rising in every
direction; and down a near-by road a mass of Confederate soldiers in
their gray uniforms dashed by.
“It is of no use to go any farther. We may be shot by stray bullets,
or taken prisoners as ‘suspicious’ strangers,” said Mr. Arnold.
“Possibly some friendly officer has taken charge of Berry and Lily,
and when the battle ends will send them safely home. All we can do is
to return to the cabin and wait!”
Mrs. Arnold sadly agreed, and they made their way home, wondering
anxiously as to the course of the battle.
“If the Union army had any warning at all of the advance of the
Confederates they may be able to defend the Landing,” said Mr.
Arnold, as they again reached the cabin.
When Lily awakened on Sunday morning to the sound of echoing
artillery, and when she discovered that Berry was not at home, she at
once understood what had happened.
“Missie Berry’s at de Union camp!” she promptly decided, “an’ I’se
gwine dar ter tek keer ob her,” and Lily was off like the wind. But
she found it no easy matter to reach her destination.
After she had left the rough ridge where the Arnolds’ cabin stood and
made her way down the ravine she was instantly in the midst of moving
masses of Confederates; and it took all her alertness and caution to
avoid discovery. For hours she crouched in thickets, and once even
marched steadily along with a division of soldiers who were driving
Union soldiers back toward the Landing; and darkness had begun to
gather before the tired, frightened Lily reached the plateau above
the Tennessee River, from where the thunder of guns held back the
advancing Confederates.
Slowly and cautiously Lily crept along the embankment. Rain began
to fall; darkness came; and the Confederates fell back; and the
exhausted Lily crawled along and at last found herself near a tent.
“I reckon I’ll jes’ go in dar,” she thought, “an’ wait til’ dis rain
stops,” and, making no more noise than a woodland rabbit, Lily softly
crept under the swinging flap of the tent. But, quietly as she had
entered, ears as sharp as her own, and eyes accustomed to shadowy
woodland ways, had discovered her.
“Who’s there?” called a familiar voice; and Lily jumped to her feet
and ran forward.
“My lan’! Missie Berry!” she exclaimed. “Ain’ I de lucky nigger ter
cum right to dis tent! I’se bin all day a-gettin’ har!”
“Oh, Lily!” For a moment Berry clung silently to the faithful girl who
had braved every danger to reach her young mistress; and then quickly
told the story of her discovery of the Confederates in Shiloh woods.
“And now I want to go home. We’ll start this minute!” she exclaimed
eagerly.
“We cyan’t, Missie Berry! Dar’s milluns ob men a-fightin’ out dar! An’
lissen ter dat rain, Missie Berry! If we wusn’t killed by guns we’d be
droun’d daid! We shu’ wu’d, Missie Berry. An’ yo’ ma and pa dey knows
I’ll tek keer ob yo’,” Lily concluded, and Berry at last agreed not to
attempt to start for home until the next morning. Lily curled up on
the floor beside the cot where Berry lay; and, in spite of storm and
the crashing sound of guns, the girls were soon fast asleep.
On Monday Lily was awake at an early hour, and left the camp to
skirmish for food. It was too serious a moment in the great battle for
Colonel Peabody to remember the little Yankee girl in his tent, but
Lily managed to secure a quantity of hard biscuit and refilled the
water jug. “We kin go home ter-night, I reckon,” she assured Berry,
who was now rested and eager to leave the tent.
Early that afternoon the sound of cheers echoed along the plateau, and
Berry and Lily ventured to peer from the tent. A soldier rushed past
them shouting: “Beauregard’s men are retreating. The Battle of Shiloh
is over!”
“Praise de Lawd!” said Lily; “an’ I hopes dis ends de noise.”
By four o’clock the last shot had been fired, and the Union generals
found that in the two days’ battle 15,000 Union soldiers had been
killed or taken prisoners by the enemy, while the Confederate loss
was not over 10,699 men.
In spite of Berry’s pleading Lily resolutely refused to start for home
until night.
“’Tain’ safe, Missie Berry! Jes’ wait!” she insisted; and Berry at
last agreed.
It was six o’clock when the flap to the tent was drawn back and
Colonel Peabody, his arm in a sling and a bandage about his head,
stood smiling in the doorway.
“Thank heaven you are here, and safe!” he exclaimed, as Berry started
toward him; and then, discovering Lily, dressed in Francis’s old
clothes, added, “Where did this boy come from?”
“From my home; it’s Lily!” Berry explained. “She’s going to take me
home!”
The officer looked puzzled, but asked no further question in regard
to Lily; and a moment later a soldier appeared with a pitcher of hot
coffee, a plate of fried eggs and bacon, and another of biscuit. He
set the food on a rough table and Colonel Peabody at once drew a
stool toward it. He had hardly tasted food since the beginning of the
battle, but he did not forget his visitors, and Berry was told to sit
beside him, while Lily was given a liberal share. They were all too
hungry to talk until they had satisfied their hunger, and Colonel
Peabody was the first to speak.
“Now, little Yankee girl, tell me your name, or, better still, write
it down for me. You will find some paper and a pencil in that box,”
and he pointed toward a wooden box at the head of the cot.
“Write your father’s name also,” he added, as Berry began to write.
“My brother Francis is a Union soldier. He’s a Corporal!” Berry
proudly announced, as she handed Colonel Peabody the paper on which
she had written her own name and that of her father.
“Well, I think you should be a General!” declared the officer.
“So your name is Berenice Arnold!” said Colonel Peabody, and in a
thoughtful tone he repeated: “Berenice Arnold, the little Yankee girl
of Shiloh,” and then added: “If you had not reached us when you did
with your warning of the advancing Confederates this camp would surely
have been captured. General Grant will thank you himself.”
“Missie Berry, I reckons we better be startin’,” whispered Lily, and,
before Berry could respond, Colonel Peabody rose to his feet and said:
“Before you go, Berenice, I must take you to the hero of the day,
General William T. Sherman. His efforts led us to victory,” and
resting his hand on Berry’s shoulder the wounded officer moved toward
the door of the tent, with Lily close at his heels.
The Union generals were gathered in a tent near by discussing the
fortunes of the day. General Rousseau, whose brigade had swept
everything before it; General McCook and Crittenden, who, against
tremendous odds, had held their stand at Shiloh church, and General
Buell, whose arrival had given victory to the Union forces, were all
gathered about General Sherman as Colonel Peabody with his two odd
companions appeared in the open doorway of the tent. Very briefly
he told the story of Berry’s flight through the forest on the night
before the Battle of Shiloh to bring the news of the stealthy
advance of the enemy, and with a gentle push sent Berry toward the
black-whiskered, grave-faced General whose keen eyes softened as they
rested on the slender little figure; and, as he clasped Berry’s hand
and smiled down upon her, Berry wished with all her heart that there
was some greater service she could do for the man who had that day won
an undying fame.
Later on, when Berry attempted to repeat to her father and mother what
General Sherman had said to her, she found that all she could remember
was that he had called her “a brave little Yankee girl,” and, when
Colonel Peabody summoned a tall young soldier to go to the outskirts
of the camp with the girls, that each one of the great generals had
clasped her hand and smiled upon her and repeated General Sherman’s
words.
The late April twilight had begun to fade when Mr. and Mrs. Arnold
from their seats on the cabin porch heard the sound of a clear
whistle, three times repeated, Berry’s signal, and started to their
feet to see Berry, with Lily close behind her, running toward the
cabin. And when the little girl told the story of her night watch
in Shiloh woods, her journey to the Union camp, and all that had so
quickly followed, her mother and father listened in amazement. There
was no word of blame for the girl who had been intent only on being of
service to the cause for which her brother was fighting.
“We have two soldiers in the family!” her father declared proudly, as
she finished the story of her adventures.
“I tole Missie Berry yo’d know I’d tek keer ob her,” said the smiling
Lily, as Mrs. Arnold said to the faithful girl that she had been sure
Lily had followed her young mistress.
“Len Bragg is at home,” said Mr. Arnold; “he was wounded, but not
seriously, in the fight along Corinth road, and carried to the cabin.
I have just returned from there, and must go down again to-morrow
morning.”