WITHIN THE CONFEDERATE LINES
The fall of the gigantic Tennessee lieutenant had created something
like a panic among his cavalrymen who were pressing forward to flank
the Kentuckians; and Sergeant Fronklyn, his face still covered with
blood, seized the opportunity of their retirement to the rear to drag
the form of Lieutenant Lyon out of the mêlée, and place him on the bank
of the creek which bounded the camp on the west.
His first care was to wet his handkerchief from his canteen, and wash
the blood from his face, so that he could see better. Then he felt of
his wound which was somewhat swollen, and found the scalpskin was torn
away from his head just above the temple. The bullet from the pistol of
the trooper had glanced across his head with force enough to stun him
without making a very bad wound. He washed it with the handkerchief,
and then tied it over the top of his head, and under his chin.
He realized that he had had a very narrow escape from death; for if the
ball had hit him an inch lower, it would certainly have killed him. He
took a long draught of water from his canteen, and felt better. He was
very thankful for his escape, and believed he should recover from the
wound in a week. He knew that he was a prisoner; but it was probable
that the Union army would open fire upon the intrenchments the next
morning, and would capture it in the end, be it sooner or later.
He had seated himself by the side of the motionless form of his
officer, not doubting that he was dead, though he immediately proceeded
to satisfy himself on this question. He placed his hand on his heart.
He had been a student in a medical institution at the time of his
enlistment, and had made considerable progress in his studies, and had
assisted Dr. Farnwright in the hospital when the occasion would permit.
The organ of life was still beating, and he uttered an exclamation of
satisfaction. Thus encouraged, he continued to investigate the
condition of the lieutenant. He could find no open wound, but there was
a considerable swelling on the top of the head. He was convinced that
the case would not be fatal. Taking the patient's handkerchief from the
inside of his coat, he wet it thoroughly from his canteen. Then he
unloosed the belt, and opened wide his coat.
He sprinkled the face from the wet handkerchief, and then bathed it
very patiently for half an hour. At the end of this time the patient
opened his eyes, slowly at first, and soon had them wide open. He
recovered his consciousness later, and complained of a nausea at his
stomach, and he continued to have an increase of the symptom till he
had discharged the contents of that member.
"I feel better," said he very faintly, as he looked about him, and
seemed to be bewildered. "Who are you?" he inquired; for it was too
dark by this time for him to see anything distinctly.
"I am Sergeant Fronklyn," replied his attentive nurse. "Don't you know
me, Lieutenant Lyon?"
"I should know you if I could see your face," replied Deck with a
stronger voice.
"It is becoming rather dark about here. Have you any pain, Lieutenant?"
inquired the sergeant.
"None of any consequence, Fronklyn; but my head aches," answered Deck.
"Where do I happen to be just now?"
"Don't you remember what took place an hour ago, or more?"
"I have an idea that I was in a fight; but it all came to an end very
suddenly," replied Deck, raising his head, and then sitting up on the
ground.
"You were in a sharp fight, and you have lain here like a log for half
an hour or more. I was afraid that you had been killed; but I thank God
with all my heart and soul that you are still living," said Fronklyn
very devoutly.
"Some of it comes back to me now," said the patient, as he looked about
him as if to ascertain where he was; for his companion had not informed
him on this point. "I had just struck down a trooper with my sabre when
I heard the tramp of a horse behind me. I was about to wheel so as to
face him, when I felt a blow on my head, and I can remember nothing
more."
"You fell on the field, as I had before you."
"Are you wounded, Fronklyn?"
"I am slightly; and my case seems to be something like yours, though it
was a pistol-ball that brought me down. I saw the trooper aim a great
horse-pistol that might have been a hundred years old, and I have no
doubt that the bullet was as big as they fire in those ancient
flint-lock muskets. It stunned me for the moment; but I was on my feet
at once, and saw you fall," the sergeant explained.
"Are you much hurt, Fronklyn?" asked Deck.
"Only a flesh-wound that will heal up in a week, or less. When I can
get at my knapsack I will put a plaster on it."
"But you have not told me where we are, Fronklyn, and I cannot tell for
the life of me," continued the lieutenant, looking around him again.
"Don't you remember that we were in the enemy's fortification when the
fight went on?"
"I remember that. We had been crowded into the enemy's intrenchments by
the crazy mob. A Southern captain claimed our platoon as the prisoners
of his company; and that made me so mad that I ordered our men to
charge upon them, and fight their way out of the fort," returned the
wounded officer, whose mind seemed to be clear enough by this time.
"And that was just what we were doing when both of us went down; though
I was on my feet soon enough to drag you out of the fight," replied the
sergeant.
"What has become of the platoon?"
"You were on the flank, and Life Knox got in at the head of the men,
dropping every Confederate that came in front of him; and the rest of
our fellows were not far behind him. None of them were captured; but
two were killed, and probably some of them were slightly wounded."
"The men are not prisoners, then?"
"They are not."
"How is it with us?"
"I suppose we are prisoners, for we are within the enemy's lines; but
no person has been near us as we lay here. I think the Southerners have
all they can attend to at present, and doubtless they are getting ready
for a fight to-morrow morning; for General Thomas will certainly clean
them out before he has done with them."
"What is to be done with us?" suggested Deck.
"That is a question, Lieutenant."
"Well, the next business in order is to get away, for I have no fancy
for being taken to the South, since the Confederates have no provisions
for their own men, and as prisoners we would starve with them," said
Deck. "I haven't had my supper yet, and I feel a little faint. I have
enough to eat in my haversack."
"So have I; for we were so busy at noon, that I did not have time to
eat much dinner, though it was served as usual. I think we had better
go to supper now, and then we will look about us."
Both of them began to eat from their haversacks, and they made a hearty
meal of it. The lieutenant declared that he felt all right then, and
his head did not ache half so bad as it had when he first came to
himself. In the excitement of the day Deck had eaten very little. He
had been careful that his soldiers had their dinner, but he had been
too busy to attend to the matter himself. He had become somewhat faint
while within the breastworks before the charge. At any rate, he felt a
great deal better after he had eaten his supper.
"I wonder what they are doing in here," said he, looking to the middle
of the camp, though it was now so dark that he could not make out
anything.
"Of course there is going to be another battle in the morning, and the
enemy here are getting ready for it," replied Fronklyn. "General Thomas
was sent down here to capture these works, and drive the enemy away
from this region, and he is going to do it. He is a regular army
officer, and he understands his business."
"What do you suppose has become of your horse and mine, Fronklyn?"
asked Deck, as he looked about him again. "I wouldn't lose Ceph for
everything else I have in the world."
"I saw him pressing forward with the men after you had fallen, and it
seemed as though he meant to do some fighting on his own account,"
replied the sergeant. "I fancy that both our horses went with the men
out of the fort, and that they will be cared for, even if they are
wandering about in the fields."
"The question just now is how we are to get out of this scrape," said
Deck, as he rose from his seat on the wet ground. "I don't like the
idea of going South as a prisoner, and not much better being paroled,
and tied up in idleness for I don't know how long. We must get out of
this place, Fronklyn."
"I am entirely of your opinion, Lieutenant; but I don't see any chance
to do so now," replied the sergeant. "They have closed up the entrance
by which we were forced in; for it is as dark there as all along the
breastworks."
"No men appear to be stirring in this part of the camp, though there
are plenty of them not ten rods from us," added Deck.
"But there is a line of sentinels all along the inside of the
breastworks. I made out the men before it was as dark as it is now. If
it wasn't for them we could climb over it, and go back to our camp,"
said Fronklyn. "Our men have two or three batteries on the field, and
they are firing at intervals. The artillerists inside the fort are
standing by their guns, and they fire them once in a while to show that
they are awake."
"I think we had better reconnoitre the situation, and we may find some
hole we can crawl through," suggested Deck, as he walked towards the
creek which bounded the intrenchments on the west.
"Do you expect to get out this way?" inquired the sergeant.
"Perhaps we may possibly do so," replied the lieutenant.
"Impossible; I have looked into that creek before. It is wide near the
river, and after the freshet of the last three days it is a rushing
torrent, and the great river is not much better out in the middle,"
protested Fronklyn.
"Well, we must do something," Deck insisted earnestly. "I am going to
move over where there is something going on. We can't afford to waste
our time while we have any of it on our hands."
"All right, Lieutenant; I will follow you wherever you go," returned
the sergeant.
Deck led the way towards the centre of the camp; but he had not gone
two rods before he stumbled over the form of a dead trooper, one of the
number who had been unhorsed in the charge of the platoon. Half a dozen
more of them lay near the spot where the heaviest of the fighting had
been done. Probably the wounded had been picked up and borne to the
hospital.
"Lie down, Sergeant!" said Deck, as he did so himself.
A mounted officer rode along the line of sentinels as far as the creek,
evidently assuring himself that all was safe in this part of the camp.
He paused a moment at each of the guards, and finally turned his horse
and rode back the way he had come.
"We must get over by the river, and see how it looks there," said Deck
when the officer had passed out of hearing.
"Then we had better snake it; for if we stand up it may attract the
attention of the sentinel nearest to us," suggested the sergeant, as he
began to crawl after the manner of the reptile he had mentioned.
The lieutenant followed his example; for he realized that a moving
object could be made out in the darkness. By this slow process of
locomotion they reached the bank of the river, and heard the dull flow
of the water from the middle of the great stream. The bank was high and
steep; and it was soft and wet. From this point they could see a
steamboat,--a small affair. It was headed up the river; but the light
of the fires in the forward part of the craft enabled them to see her,
and to make out her position.
On the shore above her there was a considerable crowd of men; but the
observers were too far off to be seen distinctly. They could make out
by the light of the steamer's fires two large flatboats, and a much
smaller craft was made fast to the stern of the steamer. Deck had an
idea, but he did not mention it. Stepping over the bank of the river,
he began to descend the steep and slippery declivity; and Fronklyn,
with a mental protest, followed him.