SUGGESTIONS GALORE "SHELBYVILLE ONLY 18 MILES AWAY."
NEVER was there so wild a storm but there was a wilder one; never such a
downpour of rain but there could be a greater deluge.
"Seemed to me yesterday," said Si, on the morning of June 25, as he
vainly tried to peer through the dashing drench and locate some of the
other regiments of the division, "that they was givin' us one of Noah's
Deluge days that they'd happened to have left over. Seemed that it
couldn't be no worse, but this beats it. I don't think that standin'
under Niagara Falls could be no worse. Howsomever, this can't last long.
There ain't water enough in the United States to keep this up a great
while."
"Don't be so sure o' that," said Shorty, handing Si the end of a
blanket, that he might help wring it out. "I believe the Lord sometimes
thinks that He didn't divide the land and water jest right in the first
place, and that He'd better 've made a big lake o' Tennessee instead o'
these old clay knobs for rebels and niggers to roost on, and He starts
in to carry out that idee. I wish He'd finish the job at once, and turn
the whole blasted region over to the navy. It looks as if He had that in
mind now."
"Well," said the ever-hopeful Si, "the Bible says that the rain falls
on the just and unjust alike. If it's tough on us, it's jest as tough
on them. Their guns wouldn't go off any better'n ours yesterday. If that
regiment in front of us could've shot like they can on a dry day they'd
've made a sick time for us."
About 60,000 Union soldiers and 45,000 rebels struggled through the
deluges of rain, the torrential streams and fathomless mud those June
days, when it seemed that every water-gate of the heavens was wide open
as it had never been before.
The calamity that Si and Shorty had foreseen came about. The 200th Ind.
lost the advance of the brigade and brought up the rear, which meant a
long day of muscle-straining, temper-wrecking struggles with stalling
wagons, discouraged mules and stupid teamsters. And as Co. Q was the
left of the regiment, it caught the worst of all.
The 200th Ind. had scarcely pulled out of camp when its troubles became
acute. At the foot of the hill which had been carried the day before
ran a brook, ordinarily quite a modest stream, but now raging like a
mill-race. The two other regiments of the brigade and all of the 200th
Ind. but Co. Q had managed to get across by means of trees which had
been felled over the stream at various places. Co. Q was left behind to
see that the teams got over, while the rest of the 200th Ind. was halted
on the farther bank, to watch the operation and give help if needed. Si,
with a squad in which was Shorty, was ordered to take the first team,
which it happened Groundhog drove, down into the stream and start it
across.
"Now, be very careful with that wagon," called the Adjutant across the
stream. "That has the Headquarters' things and papers. Don't let any
water get into the bed. Cross at the shallowest place."
Si and Shorty found some poles, and prodded around as well as they were
able in the crossing to find the shallowest place. If there was a part
so shallow that the bed could be kept above water it was very narrow,
and would require exceedingly skillful driving to keep on it. The whole
regiment stood around, like a barnyard full of turkeys on a wet day, and
looked on with an air of soppy melancholy.
"Groundhog," said Si, approaching that function ary, "was you watchin'
carefully while me and Shorty was pickin' out the shallow places?"
"Naw," answered he, insolently; "wasn't watchin' nothin' but my mules.
Got enough to do takin' keer o' them, without watchin' a couple o' fools
projeckin' around with poles in a mud-hole. No sense in it, nohow. We
never kin git acrost that 'ere tail-race. Only thing to do is to go back
into camp till it quits rainin' and the water runs out."
"Groundhog," said Si resolutely, "you're not goin' back to camp; you're
not goin' to wait till it stops rainin'. You're goin' right over now, as
sure as my name's Si Klegg, or I'll break every bone in your karkiss."
"I can't go over," persisted Groundhog. "I ain't no fool. I know better
what kin be done with an army wagon and six mules than any Injianny
galoot that ever wore stripes or shoulder-straps. You simply can't git a
wagon acrost that branch, and I ain't goin' to try."
"Groundhog," said Shorty, "you've bin itchin' to be killed for at least
a year, that I know of probably as long as you've lived. You ought've
had a stone tied to your neck and bin flung into the crick as soon's you
was born. I've promised myself a good many times that I'd about murder
you when ever I had time, but something's always made me neglect it. I'm
in the killin' mood to-day, and I'd like to begin on you. I certainly
will unless you drive that team straight acrost, and don't git a drop o'
water in the bed o' the wagon."
"Come, hurry up, over there," shouted the Adjutant. "We can't wait all
day. What's the matter with you? Get a move on you."
"All right, sir; we'll start at once, sir," said Si with ostentatious
alacrity.
Shorty slapped his bayonet on, and brought the point very near
Groundhog's abdomen. "I'll jab this thing clean through you in a holy
minute, you pusillanimous basswood cullin'; you pestiferous pile o'
pizen, rotten punk," he said savagely. "Git on your wheel-mule and
gether up the lines."
Impelled by this, and the vigorous clutch of Si upon his collar,
Groundhog climbed clumsily into the saddle and sullenly brandished his
whip.
The mules made a start and went down the bank, but at the edge of the
turbid torrent the leaders set their legs as stiffly as if they were the
supports of a sawhorse. They did not make a sound, but somehow the
other four understood, with electric suddenness, and their legs set like
posts.
"Jest as I expected," said Groundhog, with a grunt of satisfaction;
"they've balked for all day, an' you can't git 'em to move another foot
if you killed 'em. They're as solid as if they'd growed there."
With an air of having encountered the irresistible, he started to get
out of his saddle.
"Stay in there, confound you," said Shorty, prodding him with his
bayonet. "Lick them mules. Make 'em start."
"'Bout as much use in lickin' a white-oak stump," said Groundhog, plying
the whip viciously as a relief to his feelings. "You kin lick every inch
of skin off 'em, and they won't move no more'n a gravestone."
"Start those mules along. Stop fooling,' said the Adjutant impatiently.
"We can't start 'em. They're balkin', sir," said Si desperately.
"Nonsense, nonsense," said the Adjutant. "Come ahead. Don't you see
you're stopping the Second Brigade and all its teams?"
The men of the Second Brigade were already swarming across on the logs,
while looking backward Si and Shorty could see the road filling up
with teams. They ran down to the lead mules and caught them by the
bridles and tried to pull them ahead. They might as well have pulled at
the giant sycamore trees growing along the banks.
Everybody now began to take an interest in the affair. It is one of the
delightful peculiarities of human nature that everybody knows better how
to manage a balky horse or mule than the unfortunate man who is trying
to.
"Stop whippin' them mules. You only make them wuss," shouted one man
authoritatively. "Tie stones to their tails."
"Tie a string around their ears," shouted another. "That'll be sure to
start 'em."
"Bite their ears, you fools. Don't you know nothin' about mules? Bite
their ears, I tell you," shouted a man from Indianapolis.
"Throw some hot water on 'em."
"Tie their feet and tails together with a string."
"Build a fire under 'em."
"Turn the harness around the other way on 'em."
"Blindfold 'em."
Then the regimental humorists began to get in their work:
"Sing 'em the 'Battle Cry o' Freedom.'"
"They've struck for more grub. Promise 'em double rations till we get to
Shelbyville."
"Stop swearin', there, you fellers. You've frozen 'em stiff with your
bad language. Pray with 'em."
"Read them the Emancipation Proclamation."
"Call 'em pet names. You can do anything with kindness. Even a mule has,
a heart."
"Bring up the band and serenade 'em."
Shorty was raging around the team, kicking and striking first at one
mule and then at another, and swearing like a pirate, alternately at the
team and then at the jeering crowds. Si was following suit to the best
of his ability, but his pious education had left him out of sight
of Shorty when it came to using language that the occasion seemed to
justify. He had, however, yanked Groundhog out of the saddle and driven
him up the bank, where he sat down and grinned at the confusion which
had overtaken his enemies.
Setting a man at the head of each mule to coax and encourage him, and
the rest of the company to pushing and prying on the wagon, Si had
mounted the wheel-mule himself and put forth his mule-knowledge in one
feverish effort, which was as futile as it was desperate, for the mules
did not seem to change their positions for a rest, even, when the wagon
was forced forward on them.
A very dapper young Aid, fresh from West Point, and with that high
appreciation for himself that can only be acquired at the United States
Military Academy, galloped up, sternly ordering everybody to make way
for him, and,
"Present the compliments of the Major-General commanding the division,
and what the h--'s the matter?"
"Capt. McGillicuddy, to whom the young gentle man had been referred as
in charge, said quietly:
"You see: A mule-team has balked and stopped everything. We're doing our
best to start them, but so far without success."
"So we all perceive," said the young man superciliously. "Why are you
not down there directing them?"
"The men that I have down there thoroughly understand mules, and are
doing their very utmost. They are having, as you can see, a superfluity
of advice which is not helping them. I can best help by letting them
alone to work it out their own way. They will do all that men can."
"I shall report the case to the General," said the Aid, with
scarcely-concealed insolence. "Just like these confounded volunteers,"
he said as he turned away, taking no pains to keep the Captain from
overhearing. "Never will be genuine soldiers in the world. Here, my
men," continued he, riding over to the wagon, "stir yourselves lively,
now, and start these wagons along. I want no more fooling, and won't
have it. Start, now."
Shorty had the usual volunteer dislike to young West Pointers; like
the rest of the men he cordially hated and ridiculed the young and airy
staff officers, whether from West Point or not. It irritated him to see
the youngster's treatment of his Captain. Saying snappy things at and
about the Captain was a privilege jealously reserved to members of the
company. To have anybody outside abuse the Captain was an insult to be
resented. Above all, his American soul rose in wrath at the patronizing
"my men." He would not have been at all offended at one of his own
rough-and-ready officers jumping in and distributing curses on all
hands, but "my men" was too much for him.
Without appearing to notice the presence of the Aid, Shorty walked up to
the lead-mule, gave him a tremendous kick in the ribs, and sung out in a
tone loud enough to be heard across the roaring branch:
"You pernickety pile o' poll-evil; you hee-hawin' graduate o' West
Point; you pin-feathered, taller-faced, pop-eyed, lantern-jawed,
loud-mouthed Second Lieutenant, you, won't you git up?"
The other boys began to catch on and grin. The Aid's face flushed, but
Shorty continued his loud objurgations at the mule:
"You misbegotten pill o' perdition; you pompous, puddin'-headed staff
officer; you miserable errand-boy for the General, puttin' on more airs
than the General; you half-hatched officer, runnin' around yit with the
shell on your head, and pretendin' to be cock-o'-the-walk, won't you git
up?"
Even the Aid began to understand the drift of Shorty's remarks by this
time, and Capt. McGillicuddy called out warningly:
"Shorty! Shorty!"'
Si looked in amazement at this new development of his partner's genius.
The officers and men on the other side of the branch seemed to have
forgotten for the moment the annoyance of the balked team in enjoyment
of Shorty's outburst.
"Why under heaven they put such murrain cattle as you in the army I
can't tell," he continued with another savage kick in the mule's side.
"You only take up room from your betters. You don't fight, you only
strut like a turkey-cock, and eat and he-haw. Now, will you git up?"
The Aid could not fail to understand now. He burst out in a torrent
of rage: "You infernal scoundrel," he shouted, forcing his horse up
to Shorty; "I'll have you shot for insubordination, for insulting and
mutinous language to your superior officer."
"I wasn't sayin' nothin' to you," said Shorty, looking up with an air of
surprise. "I hain't had nothin' to do with you. I was cussin' this other
piebald pilgarlic from West Point; this other pig headed pickaninny o'
the Regular Army; this Brevet-Second Lieutenant o' the Quartermaster's
Department, and Aid on the staff o' Gen. Groundhog. You ain't my
superior officer, nohow."
"Corporal," shouted the Aid to Si, "take this rascal up there on the
bank and buck-and-gag him. Do it at once."
"I don't believe you have the right to give me orders, sir," said Si
respectfully. "I am under Capt. McGillicuddy's orders."
"You are right, Corporal," said Capt. McGillicuddy, stepping forward.
"Lieutenant, you cannot order one of my men to be punished. You have no
right to command here. You are merely to convey the General's orders to
those who are in command."
"I have the right to give orders. I represent the General, and speak in
his name, and I order that man to be bucked-and-gagged," reiterated the
Aid in a flame of anger. "I'll see that it is done. I shall not be so
insulted before the whole army. It will destroy all discipline."
"Fortunately, the discipline of the army does not depend on the respect
shown Second Lieutenants," Capt. McGillicuddy could not help saying. "If
you have any complaint to make against one of my men, state it to me,
their Captain, or to the Colonel of the regiment. We are the persons,
not you, to deal with them."
The men around understood; nothing pleased them better than to see a
bumptious young Aid sat down upon, and they were outspoken in their
delight.
"I shall report you to the General, and have you court-martialed," said
the Aid, shaking his fist at Capt. McGillicuddy. "I shall!"
"Mr. Farwell," said the Chief of Staff, riding up, "why haven't you
reported to the General as to the trouble here? We've been waiting for
you."
"Here," came the clear-cut tones of the Colonel across the branch; "no
use of wasting any more time on those mules. They're there to stay.
Unhitch them, fasten on a picket-rope, and we'll pull the wagon across
from this side."
Everybody sprang to execute this order, but Si and Shorty's hands had
not reached the traces when an idea seemed to shoot simultaneously
through each of the six mules, and with one impulse they plunged ahead,
directly into the swollen waters.
Si and Shorty sprang back toward their heads to guide them over the
narrow crossing. But the mules seemed to take the right course by
instinct, and landed the wagon safely on the other side, without a
particle of water entering the bed. Everybody cheered, and Si and Shorty
looked as if their minds had been relieved of a terrible load.
"Si," said Shorty, with a tinge of weariness in his tone, "they say it
is about 18 miles from here to Shelbyville."
"Somethin' like that," answered Si.
"I think there are about three o' these cricks to every mile. Do you
really suppose we'll be able to git there before our three years is up?"
"All depends on the mules," answered Si cheerily. "If this sudden spell
o' goodness holds out we may get there before evening."