“Cowards fear to die; but courage stout,
Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.”
--Sir Walter Raleigh, on “The Snuff of a Candle.”
All military courage of any value is the offspring of pride and
will. The existence of what is called “natural courage” may well
be doubted. What is frequently mistaken for it is either perfect
self-command, or a stolid indifference, arising from dull-brained
inability to comprehend what really is danger.
The first instincts of man teach him to shun all sources of harm,
and if his senses are sufficiently acute to perceive danger, his
natural disposition is to avoid encountering it. This disposition
can only be overcome by the exercise of the power of pride and
will--pride to aspire to the accomplishment of certain things, even
though risk attend, and will to carry out those aspirations.
Harry Glen was apparently not deficient in either pride or will. The
close observer, however, seemed to see as his mastering sentiment
a certain starile selfishness, not uncommon among the youths of his
training and position in the slow-living, hum-drum country towns
of Ohio. The only son of a weakly-fondling mother and a father too
earnestly treading the narrow path of early diligences and small
savings by which a man becomes the richest in his village, to pay
any attention to him, Harry grew up a self-indulgent, self-sufficient
boy. His course at the seminary and college naturally developed
this into a snobbish assumption that he was of finer clay than
the commonality, and in some way selected by fortune for her finer
displays and luxurious purposes. I have termed this a “sterile
selfishness,” to distinguish it from that grand egoism which in
large minds is fruitful of high accomplishments and great deeds,
and to denote a force which, in the sons of the average “rich” men
of the county seats, is apt to expend itself in satisfaction at
having finer clothes and faster horses and pleasanter homes, than
the average--in a pride of white hands and a scorn of drudgery.
When Harry signed his name upon the recruiting roll--largely
impelled thereto by the delicately-flattering suggestion that he
should lead off for the youth of Sardis--he had not the slightest
misgiving that by so doing he would subject himself to any of the
ills and discomforts incidental to carrying out the enterprise upon
which they were embarking. He, like every one else, had no very
clear idea of what the company would be called upon to do or undergo;
but no doubt obtruded itself into his mind that whatever might be
disagreeable in it would fall to some one else's lot, and he continue
to have the same pleasant exemption that had been his good fortune
so far through life.
And though the company was unexpectedly ordered to the field in
the rugged mountains of Western Virginia, instead of to pleasant
quarters about Washington, there was nothing to shake this comfortable
belief. The slack discipline of the first three months' service,
and the confusion of ideas that prevailed in the beginning of the
war as to military duties and responsibilities, enabled him to
spend all the time he chose away from his company and with congenial
spirits, about headquarters, and to make of the expedition, so
far as he was concerned, a pleasant picnic. Occasionally little
shadows were thrown by the sight of corpses brought in, with
ugly-looking bullet holes in head or breast, but these were always
of the class he looked down upon, and he connected their bad luck
in some way with their condition in life. Doubtless some one had
to go where there was danger of being shot, as some one had to
dig ditches and help to pry wagons out of the mud, but there was
something rather preposterous in the thought that anything of this
kind was incumbent upon him.
The mutterings of the men against an officer, who would not share
their hardships and duties, did not reach his ears, nor yet the
gibes of the more earnest of the officers at the “young headquarter
swells,” whose interest and zeal were nothing to what they would
have taken in a fishing excursion.
It came about very naturally and very soon that this continual
avoidance of duty in directions where danger might be encountered
was stigmatized by the harsher name of cowardice. Neither did
this come to his knowledge, and he was consequently ignorant that
he had delivered a fatal stab to his reputation one fine morning
when, the regiment being ordered out with three days' rations and
forty rounds of cartridges, the sergeant who was sent in search
of him returned and reported that he was sick in his tent. Jacob
Alspaugh expressed the conclusion instantly arrived at by every
one in the regiment:
“It's all you could expect of one of them kid-glove fellers, to
weaken when it came to serious business.”
Harry's self-sufficiency had left so little room for anything
that did not directly concern his own comfort, that he could not
understand the deadly earnestness of the men he saw file out of
camp, or that there was any urgent call for him to join them in
their undertaking.
“Bob Bennett's always going where there's no need of it,” he said
to a companion, as he saw the last of the regiment disappear into
the woods on the mountain side. “He could have staid back here
with us just as well as not, instead of trudging off through the
heat over these devilish roads, and probably get into a scrape for
which no one will thank him.”
“Yes,” said Ned Burnleigh, with his affected drawl, “what the
devil's the use, I'd like to know, for a fellah's putting himself
out to do things, when there's any quantity of other fellahs, that
can't be better employed, ready and even anxious to do them.”
“That's so. But it's getting awful hot here. Let's go over to the
shade, where we were yesterday, and have Dick bring us a bucket of
cold spring water and the bottles and things.”
---
“Abe!” said Jake Alspaugh to his file-leader--a red-headed, pock-marked
man, whose normal condition was that of outspoken disgust at every
thing--“this means a fight.”
“Your news would've been fresh and interesting last night,” growled
Abe Bolton. “I suppose that's what we brought our guns along for.”
“Yes; but somebody's likely to get killed.”
“Well, you nor me don't have to pay their life insurance, as I know
on.”
“But it may be you or me,”
“The devil'd be might anxious for green wood before he'd call you
in.”
“Come, now, don't talk that way. This is a mighty serious time.”
“I'll make it a durned sight seriouser for you if you don't keep
them splay feet o'your'n offen my heels when we're marching.”
“Don't you think we'd better pay, or--something?”
“You might try taking up a collection.”
“Try starting a hymn, Jake,” said a slender young man at his right
elbow, whose face showed a color more intimately connected with the
contents of his canteen than the heat of the day. “Line it out,
and we'll all join in. Something like this, for example:
'Hark, from the tombs a doleful sound
Mine ears attend the cry.
Ye living men, come view the ground
Where you must shortly lie.'”
Alspaugh shuddered visibly.
“Come, spunk up, Jake,” continued the slender young man. “Think
how proud all your relations will be of you, if you die for your
country.”
“I'm mad at all of my relations, and I don't want to do nothing to
please 'em,” sighed Jake.
“But I hope you're not so greedy as to want to live always?” said
the slender young man, who answered roll-call to Kent Edwards.
“No, but I don't want to be knocked off like a green apple, before
I'm ripe and ready.”
“Better be knocked off green and unripe,” said Kent, his railing
mood changing to one of sad introspection, “than to prematurely
fall, from a worm gnawing at your heart.”
Jake's fright was not so great as to make him forego the opportunity
for a brutal retort:
“You mean the 'worm of the still,' I s'pose. Well, it don't gnaw
at my heart so much as at some other folkses' that I know'd.”
Kent's face crimsoned still deeper, and he half raised his musket,
as if to strike him, but at that moment came the order to march,
and the regiment moved forward.
The enemy was by this time known to be near, and the men marched
in that silence that comes from tense expectation.
The day was intensely hot, and the stagnant, sultry air was perfumed
with the thousand sweet odors that rise in the West Virginia forests
in the first flush of Summer.
The road wound around the steep mountain side, through great thickets
of glossy-leaved laurel, by banks of fragrant honeysuckle, by beds
of millions of sweet-breathing, velvety pansies, nestling under huge
shadowy rocks, by acres of white puccoon flowers, each as lovely
as the lily that grows by cool Siloam's shady rill--all scattered
there with Nature's reckless profusion, where no eye saw them from
year to year save those of the infrequent hunter, those of the
thousands of gaily-plumaged birds that sang and screamed through the
branches of the trees above, and those of the hideous rattlesnakes
that crawled and hissed in the crevices of the shelving rocks.
At last the regiment halted under the grateful shadows of the
broad-topped oaks and chestnuts. A patriarchal pheasant, drumming
on a log near by some uxorious communication to his brooding mate,
distended his round eyes in amazement at the strange irruption of
men and horses, and then whirred away in a transport of fear. A
crimson crested woodpecker ceased his ominous tapping, and flew
boldly to a neighboring branch, where he could inspect the new
arrival to good advantage and determine his character.
The men threw themselves down for a moment's rest, on the springing
moss that covered the whole mountain side. A hum of comment
and conversation arose. Jake Alspaugh began to think that there
was not likely to be any fight after all, and his spirits rose
proportionately. Abe Bolton growled that the cowardly officers
had no doubt deliberately misled the regiment, that a fight might
be avoided. Kent Edwards saw a nodding May-apple flower--as fair
as a calla and as odorous as a pink--at a little distance, and
hastened to pick it. He came back with it in the muzzle of his
gun, and his hands full of violets.
A thick-bodied rattlesnake crawled slowly and clumsily out from the
shelter of a little ledge, his fearful eyes gleaming with deadly
intentions against a ground-squirrel frisking upon the end of a
mossy log, near where Captain Bob Bennett was seated, poring over
a troublesome detail in the “Tactics.” The snake saw the man, and
his awkward movement changed at once into one of electric alertness.
He sounded his terrible rattle, and his dull diamonds and stripes
lighted up with the glare that shines through an enraged man's face.
The thick body seemed to lengthen out and gain a world of sinuous
suppleness. With the quickness of a flash he was coiled, with
head erect, forked tongue protruding, and eyes flaming like satanic
jewels.
A shout appraised Captain Bennett of his danger. He dropped the
book, sprang to his feet with a quickness that matched the snake's,
and instinctively drew his sword. Stepping a little to one side
as the reptile launched itself at him, he dexterously cut it in two
with a sweeping stroke. A shout of applause rose from the excited
boys, who gathered around to inspect the slain serpent and congratulate
the Captain upon his skillful disposition of his assailant.
“O, that's only my old bat-stroke that used to worry the boys in
town-hall so much,” said the Captain carelessly. “It's queer what
things turn out useful to a man, and when he least expects them.”
A long, ringing yell from a thousand throats cleft the air, and with
its last notes came the rattle of musketry from the brow of the
hill across the little ravine. The bullets sang viciously overhead.
They cut the leaves and branches with sharp little crashes, and
struck men's bodies with a peculiar slap. A score of men in the
disordered group fell back dead or dying upon the green moss.
“Of course, we might've knowed them muddle-headed officers 'd run
us right slap into a hornets' nest of Rebels before they knowed a
thing about it,” grumbled Abe Bolton, hastily tearing a cartridge
with his teeth, and forcing it into his gun.
“Hold on, my weak-kneed patriot,” said Kent Edwards, catching Jake
Alspaugh by the collar, and turning him around so that he faced
the enemy again. “It's awful bad manners to rush out of a matinee
just as the performance begins. You disturb the people who've
come to enjoy the show. Keep you seat till the curatin goes down.
You'll find enough to interest you.”
The same sudden inspiration of common-sense that had flashed upon
Captain Bennett, in encountering the snake now raised him to the
level of this emergency. He comprehended that the volley they had
received had emptied every Rebel gun. The distance was so short
that the enemy could be reached before they had time to re-load.
But no time must be lost in attempting to form, or in having the
order regularly given by the Colonel. He sprang toward the enemy,
waving his sword, and shouted in tones that echoed back from the
cliffs:
“Attention, BATTALION! Charge bayonets! FORWARD, DOUBLE-QUICK,
MARCH!”
A swelling cheer answered him. His own company ran forward to
follow his impetuous lead. The others joined in rapidly. Away
they dashed down the side of the declivity, and in an instant more
were swarming up the opposite side toward the astonished Rebels.
Among these divided councils reigned. Some were excited snapping
unloaded guns at the oncoming foe; others were fixing bayonets,
and sturdily urging their comrades to do likewise, and meet the
rushing wave of cold steel with a counter wave. The weaker-hearted
ones were already clambering up the mountain-side out of reach of
harm.
There was no time for debate. The blue line led by Bennett flung
itself upon the dark-brown mass of Rebels like an angry wave dashing
over a flimsy bank of sand, and in an instant there was nothing
to be done but pursue the disrupted and flying fragments. It was
all over.