THE SHARPSHOOTERS OF MILLERSVILLE
The forty-two riflemen of the Home Guard were sharpshooters who had
practised for many years with the weapon, both as hunters and by firing
at a mark. Some of them were past the military age; and the lieutenant
in command of the detachment was sixty years old, and he had won his
spurs as the best shot in the town. He was a man of influence, and his
skill had procured him his present position in the company.
Lieutenant Ripley was at the right of the line of sharpshooters. He had
stationed his men in the woods, and ordered them not to fire till he
did so; and they were to load and fire at will after he had given the
first discharge. When the captain of the Confederate cavalry dropped
from his horse, it was known by whose shot he had fallen. A couple of
men were ordered to dismount, and bear him to the side of the roads;
and the lieutenant who succeeded to the command ordered a halt.
Captain Gordon and Colonel Halliburn were behind the farmer's house,
where they had retired, not to avoid the bullets of the enemy, but to
obtain a position where they could see without being seen. The horse of
the former stood on a knoll, from which his rider could look over the
corner of the low building, and the latter was at his side. Both of
them saw the captain of the company fall from his horse.
"Ripley fired that shot," said the colonel. "He was never known to miss
his aim when he had fair play."
"That was a good beginning, at any rate," added the captain.
"But why don't the next man in the line fire?" mused the commander of
the Home Guard, uttering his thought.
They could not know then the reason; but they learned afterwards that
the lieutenant had ordered them not to do so, as he wished to observe
the effect of the death of the captain, for he had not moved after he
fell. The company seemed to be staggered by the event for the space of
a minute. The men all turned their heads towards the woods; and as no
shot followed the first one at once, they might have inferred that the
fatality to the commander had been the work of an assassin.
This view was immediately confirmed by the captain's successor; for he
ordered four troopers to dismount, and go into the woods in search of
the murderer. But they did not reach the edge of the forest before fire
was opened upon them, and every one of them dropped dead or wounded.
The rifle was a terribly effective weapon in the hands of the
sharpshooters. The company had certainly fallen into an ambush. The
troopers could do nothing on their horses in the woods, and for the
moment they were practically helpless.
The fire continued all along the line of riflemen, one discharge at a
time, so that no two men should aim at the same soldier or officer; and
all along the detachment every one seemed to bring down his man. The
lieutenant saw the havoc made in his command; but Captain Gordon did
not give the order for his company to advance on the plan he had
arranged.
The battle appeared to be fighting itself without any assistance from
the summit of the hill, and it was evident that the enemy had no
knowledge of any force outside of the forest.
"That lieutenant has just given an order, but I could not make out what
he said," observed the colonel. "He is in a tight place, and you have
set a very ugly trap for that company to fall into, Captain Gordon."
"The assistance of your company, Colonel, has given me a very decided
advantage," replied the captain.
"And you have made excellent use of it. My men are safe in the woods,
and the lieutenant seems to be losing his time."
"You can see what his order meant now, for his men are dismounting.
They are going into the woods to clean out the enemy, and that is
really the only thing he can do," replied Captain Gordon. "It will be
time for me to put a finger in the pie very soon, for the protection of
your men, if for nothing else."
"You need not trouble your head about the riflemen, for they all have
legs; and even Ripley, the oldest man among them, can use his
walking-pins as well as any of them. They will retreat through the
woods, using their rifles as they retire."
Every alternate man of the company was dismounted, giving the
bridle-rein of his horse to one mounted. They double-quicked into the
forest; but they began to drop, to cling to the trees for support, or
to retire from the field before the observers on the hill lost sight of
them. Still Captain Gordon did not give the word to advance.
"Isn't it time for this company to move forward?" asked the colonel.
"Not quite; it is best to wait a short time, till the cavalrymen get a
little farther into the woods," answered the captain. "Your men are
firing quite rapidly now, and are evidently retiring in good order."
"I am not at all concerned about them. They can keep behind the trees,
firing as they retreat. The riflemen have hunted through that forest,
which extends five or six miles to the north, and they have known every
acre of it for years. They are quite at home there; and they will not
fall into any creek or mud-hole, as the enemy would without a guide."
"They are brave men, and they have done good work this morning. But it
is now time for my company to make a move; for I will not leave your
guards to do all the fighting," added Captain Gordon, as he descended
from the knoll, followed by his companion.
He had already explained to his two lieutenants in command of the
platoons what they were to do at a signal sounded by the bugler. The
captain rode to the top of the hill, though he did not expose himself
to the fire of the enemy, who were still unaware of his presence.
Stufton was near the head of the column, and he gave him the order to
sound the advance. He did it with full lungs. Lieutenant Lyon,
commanding the second platoon, gave the order to march, and his men
started at a trot, which was immediately changed to a gallop. The
farmer's fence had been removed by order of the captain when he had
arranged his plan for the action; and Deck, on the right flank of his
command, took to the field, where they had plenty of space, though
recent rains had turned the soil into soft mud. But the speed was kept
up in spite of this impediment till the head of the platoon reached the
left, or foot, of the Confederate company.
In response to the bugle signal, Lieutenant Belthorpe advanced upon the
head of the enemy's column, deploying to the side of the road, and
continuing till they filled up the space to the foot of Deck's force.
The enemy had discharged their carbines, or other pieces, at random,
and apparently without orders; but they inflicted no injury upon the
flying horsemen. Deck was the first to give the order to charge; but he
had been prohibited by the captain, to whom some one had reported the
young lieutenant's custom of leading his men into action, from placing
himself in front of his men when he went in upon a charge, unless in a
case of actual emergency.
Deck promised to obey this order, and he did so in the advance of his
platoon; and when he ordered the charge upon the left of the enemy's
column, he was on its right. Every man of the Confederates was
encumbered with an extra horse, though as they confronted the Union
cavalrymen he rid himself of his charge; and thus turned loose, the
animals were soon wandering wherever they found an opening. Deck had
very nearly his full complement of men, and so had Tom Belthorpe; for
the soldiers of the Home Guard had been detailed to guard the
baggage-wagons, and picket the rear of the column. One-half of the
Confederates had been sent into the woods, and by this time they had
advanced a considerable distance in pursuit of the riflemen.
The enemy were at present doubly outnumbered; and though they realized
the fact, they fought as though they had been contending man for man.
Indeed, they contended desperately against the odds before them, and
deserved victory for their steady valor. But with them then it was a
"lost cause," and through no fault of their own. Before the Union
column had reached the position assigned to them, the lieutenant in
command had sent his bugler into the forest to sound the retreat for
the portion of the company pursuing the riflemen.
As he returned, the officer shouted at him to give the signal for the
charge, and his men promptly responded to it. The fighting then became
furious on both sides. The second lieutenant in front of Deck's men was
a noble-looking young man, who fought like a lion at bay, and defended
himself with great skill from the two Union troopers that assailed him
in front; but it was an unequal conflict, and presently he was wounded
in the sword-arm, so that he could no longer use his sabre with that
hand, and grasped it with his left. He struck with it several times;
but he could not handle his weapon as he had before, and he was soon
cut near the shoulder of his left arm, receiving a wound which entirely
disabled him.
Deck, filled with admiration for the brave young officer, ordered one
of the men to lead the horse of the wounded soldier out of the crowd,
which he did, conducting him to the side of the Union lieutenant. It
was soon reported along the line that the first lieutenant of the
Confederates had been disabled, and had retired from the field. By this
time the crack of the rifles was again heard in the forest, though at a
considerable distance from the road. The captain interpreted these
sounds as the retreat of the force of the enemy sent into the woods,
the riflemen shooting them down as they retired.
Before this force, more than decimated by the sharpshooters, could
reach the road, however they hurried, the other half of the company had
been driven to the verge of the forest; but they realized that they
were thoroughly beaten, and that any further resistance meant nothing
but slaughter. The orderly sergeant of the company, who succeeded to
the command, shouted to Lieutenant Belthorpe that he was ready to
surrender. Tom repeated the words to the captain, and Stufton was
ordered to give the proper signal to bring the attack to an end.
"You have fought like a hero, sir, and I am sorry for you; but you are
my prisoner," said Deck to the wounded lieutenant when he was conducted
to his side.
"I surrender," replied the prisoner faintly; and it was evident to Deck
that he was in great pain from the wound in his shoulder.
[Illustration: "THEY LAID HIM ON THE GRASS JUST AS THE RECALL WAS
SOUNDED." _Page 141._]
The Union lieutenant called a man to assist him in dismounting the
officer. They laid him on the grass just as the recall was sounded, and
proceeded to remove his coat. The blood was flowing freely from both of
his wounds, and he was quite faint. But Deck saw at once that the wound
was not fatal; and he sent word to the Confederate surgeon, who was
attending to the men that were brought into the field in the rear of
the column, that he was needed for the officer of his command.
In the meantime, Deck tied up the worst wound of the prisoner with his
handkerchief, and did what he could to stop the flow of blood. He used
some of the rags with which his mother had supplied him; but the
surgeon promptly appeared.
"I am sorry to see you wounded, Lieutenant Lawrence," said the doctor,
as he observed the pale face of the young officer; and then gave him a
medicine glass full of a dark fluid, which was probably brandy.
"It was a hard fight, Doctor," replied the sufferer.
"But Lieutenant Lawrence has fought like the bravest of the brave, and
I am sorry for his misfortune," added Deck.
"Who may you be, sir? I see that you wear the uniform of the blue,"
said the surgeon, looking him in the face.
"He is a Yankee officer; but he has been kind to me, and had me brought
out of the fight when I was utterly disabled," said the wounded
officer, apparently revived by the stimulant he had taken. "I am
grateful to him for his kindness."
"I am Lieutenant Lyon of the Riverlawn Cavalry," replied Deck. "This
gentleman's bravery and skill excited my admiration; and I have done
the little I could for him."
"I thank you, Lieutenant Lyon, for what you have done for my friend;
and if you are an enemy, you are a noble one, and I honor you for your
Christianity on the battle-field," replied the surgeon, as he took the
hand of Deck and pressed it warmly. "I reckon all the Yankee officers
are not like you, Lieutenant."
"Those in my squadron are," answered Deck.
"Your name is Lyon. I have heard of the Riverlawn Cavalry in Edmonson
County, where I have an uncle; and I was thinking you were the major in
command of it," added the surgeon, still at work on his patient.
"That is my father," replied the lieutenant.
Life Knox came to Deck at this moment, to announce that another force
of cavalry was approaching from the direction of Jamestown, though he
had not been able to make out what it was, whether friend or foe.