ON THE RAPPAHANNOCK
The division of Jackson reached Fredericksburg the next day and went
into camp, partly in the rear of the town, and a portion of it further
down the Rappahannock. Harry, as an aide, rode back and forth on many
errands while the troops were settling into place. Once more he saw
General Lee on his famous white horse, Traveler, conferring with Jackson
on Little Sorrel. And the stalwart and bearded Longstreet was there,
too.
But Harry's heart bled when he rode into the ancient town of
Fredericksburg, a place homelike and picturesque in peaceful days,
but now lying between two mighty armies, directly within their line of
fire, and abandoned for a time by its people, all save a hardy few.
The effect upon him was startling. He rode along the deserted streets
and looked at the closed windows, like the eyeless sockets of a blind
man. In the streets mud and slush and snow had gathered, with no
attempt of man to clean them away, but the wheels of the cannon had cut
ruts in them a foot deep. The great white colonial houses, with their
green shutters fastened tightly, stood lone and desolate amid their
deserted lawns. No smoke rose from the chimneys. The shops were
closed. There was no sound of a child's voice in the whole town.
It was the first time that Harry had ever ridden through a deserted city,
and it was truly a city of the dead to him.
"It's almost as bad as a battlefield after the battle is over," he said
to Dalton, who was with him.
"It gives you a haunted, weird feeling," said Dalton, looking at the
closed windows and smokeless chimneys.
But the people of Fredericksburg had good cause to go. Two hundred
thousand men, hardened now to war, faced one another across the two
hundred yards of the Rappahannock. Four hundred Union cannon on the
other side of the river could easily smash their little city to pieces.
The people were scattered among their relatives in the farmhouses and
villages about Fredericksburg, eagerly awaiting the news that the
invincible Lee and Jackson had beaten back the hated invader.
But the Southern army, save for a small force, did not occupy
Fredericksburg itself.
Along the low ridge, a mile or so west of the town, Longstreet had been
posted and he had dug trenches and gunpits. The crest of this ridge,
called Marye's Hill, was bare, and here, in addition to the pits and
trenches, Longstreet threw up breastworks. Down the slopes were ravines
and much timber, making the whole position one of great strength.
Harry gazed at it as he carried one of his messages from general to
general, and he was enough of a soldier to know that an enemy who
attacked here was undertaking a mighty task.
But Burnside did not move, and the somber blanket of winter thickened.
More snows fell and the icy rains came again. Then the mercury slid
down until it reached zero. Thick ice formed over everything and some
of the shallower brooks froze solidly in their beds. The Southern lads
were not nearly so well equipped against the winter as their foes.
Not many had heavy overcoats, and blankets and shoes were thin and worn.
The forest was now their refuge. The river was lined thickly with it,
running for a long distance, and thousands of axes began to bite into
the timber. Hardy youths, skilled in such work, they rapidly built log
huts or shelters for themselves, and within these or outside under the
trees innumerable fires blazed along the Rappahannock, the crackling
flames sending a defiance to other such flames beyond the frozen river.
Harry had a letter from Dr. Russell, which had come by the way of the
mountains and Richmond. He had already heard of the terrible day of
Perryville in Kentucky, and the doctor had been able to confirm his
earlier news that his father, Colonel Kenton, had passed through it
safely. But the hostile armies in the west had gone down into Tennessee,
and there were reports that they would soon move toward each other for
a great battle. It seemed that the rival forces in both east and west
would meet at nearly the same time in terrible conflict.
Dr. Russell told that Dick Mason had been wounded in the combat at
Perryville, but had been nursed back to health by his mother, who with
others had found him upon the field. He had since gone into Tennessee
to rejoin the Union army, and his mother had returned to Pendleton.
Harry folded the letter, put it in his pocket, and for a while he was
very thoughtful.
It was a great relief to be sure that his father had gone safely through
Perryville, and that Dick Mason, although wounded there, was well again.
His heart yearned over both. His devotion to his father had always been
strong and Dick Mason had stood in the place of a brother. They were
alive for the present at least, but Harry knew of the sinister threat
that hung over the west. The terrible battle that was to be fought at
Stone River was already sending forth its preliminary signals, and for
a little while Harry thought more of those marching forces in Tennessee
than of the great army to which he belonged and of the one yet more
numerous that faced it.
But these thoughts could not last long. The events in which he was to
have a part were too imminent and mighty for anyone to detach himself
from them more than a few minutes. He quickly returned, heart and soul,
to his duties, which in these days took all his time. Many messages
were passing between Lee and Jackson and Longstreet and the commanders
next to them in rank, and Harry carried his share.
A few days after the letter from Dr. Russell the cold abated
considerably. The ice in the river broke, the melting snows made the
country a sea of mud and slush and horses often became mired so deeply
that it took a dozen soldiers to drag them out again. It was on such a
day as this that Dalton came to him, his grave face wearing a look of
importance.
"General Jackson has just told me," he said, "to take you and join
General Stuart, who is going with his horse to the neighborhood of Port
Royal on the river."
"What's up?"
"Nothing's up yet. But we understand that some of the Yankee gunboats
are trying to get up, now that they have a clear passage through the
ice."
"Cavalry can't stop them."
"No, but Stuart is taking horse artillery with him, and he's likely to
make it warm for the enemy in the water. Harry, if we only had a navy,
too, this war wouldn't be doubtful."
"But, as we haven't got a navy, it is doubtful, very doubtful."
They quickly joined General Stuart, who was eager for the duty, and
falling in line with the troop of Sherburne rode swiftly toward Port
Royal, the cavalrymen carrying with them several light guns.
As they galloped along, mixed mud and snow flew in every direction,
but most of them had grown so used to it that they paid little
attention. The river flowed a deep and somber stream, and all the hills
about were yet white with snow. At that time, colored too, as it was
by his feelings, it was the most sinister landscape that Harry had ever
looked upon. Black winter and red war, neither of which spared, were
allied against man.
But his pulses began to leap when they saw coils of black smoke blown
a little to one side by the wind. He knew that the smoke came from
gunboats. They must be endeavoring to land troops, and Stuart was no
man to allow a detached force to pass the Rappahannock and appear in
their rear.
As the cavalry burst into a gallop from the snowy forest Harry saw that
he was right. A fleet of gunboats was gathered in the stream and on
the far shore they were embarking troops. But his quick eye caught a
horseman on their own side of the river who was galloping away. He was
already too distant for a rifle shot, but Harry instinctively knew that
it was Shepard. He had seen the man under such extraordinarily vivid
circumstances that the set of his figure was familiar.
Nor was he surprised to behold Shepard now. He merely wondered that
he had not seen him earlier, so great was his activity and daring, and
he had no doubt that he had brought the gunboats and the Union troops
warning that Stuart was coming. He was sure of it the moment the
cavalry emerged from the woods, because one of the gunboats instantly
turned loose with two heavy guns which sent shells whistling and
screaming over their heads. Had they been a little better aimed they
would have done much destruction, and Harry saw at once that they were
going to have an ugly time with these saucy little demons of the water.
Another boat fired. One of the cavalrymen was killed and several
wounded. Stuart promptly drew his men back to the edge of the wood,
unlimbered and posted his cannon. Quick as they were, the black wasps
on the river buzzed and stung as fast. Shells and solid shot were
whistling among them and about them. They were good gunners on those
boats and the men in gray acknowledged it by the rapidity with which
they took to shelter.
But Stuart's blood was at its utmost heat. He had no intention of being
driven off, and soon his own light guns were sending shell and solid
shot toward the boats, which had relanded their troops on the other side,
and which were now puffing up and down the river like the angry little
demons they were, sending shells, solid shot, grape and canister into
the woods and along the slopes where the horsemen had disappeared.
Harry and Dalton were glad to dismount and to get behind both the
trees and the curve of the embankment. Harry, despite a pretty full
experience now, could not repress involuntary shivers as the deadly
steel flew by. He and Dalton had nothing to do but hold their horses
and watch the combat, which they did with the keenest interest.
Stuart's cannon had unlimbered in a good place, where they were
protected partly by a ridge, and their deep booming note soon showed the
gunboats that they had an enemy worthy of their fire. Dalton and Harry
looked on with growing excitement. Dalton, for once, grew garrulous,
talking in an excited monotone.
"Look at that, Harry!" he cried. "See the water spurt right by the
bow of that boat! A shell broke there! And there goes another! That
struck, too! See the fallen men on the boat! Look at that little black
fellow coming right out in the middle of the stream! And it got home,
too, with that shot! By George, how the shell raked our ranks! Ah, but,
you saucy little creature, that shell paid you back! See, Harry,
its wheel is smashed, and it's floating away with the stream! Guns
on land have an advantage over guns on the water! As the negro said,
'When the boat blows up, whar are you? But if the explosion is on dry
land, dar you are!' Ah, another has caught it, and is going out of
action! Oh my, little boats, you're brave and saucy, but you can't
stand up to Stuart's guns."
Dalton was right. The gunboats, sinkable and fully exposed, were
rapidly getting the worst of it. Stuart's guns, protected by the ridge,
were inflicting so much damage that they were compelled to drop down the
stream, two or three of them disabled and in tow of the others.
A covering Union battery of much heavier guns opened fire from a hill
beyond the river, but it was unable either to protect the gunboats or
to demolish Stuart's horse artillery, which was sheltered well by the
ridge. The men in gray began to cheer. It soon became obvious that
they would win. Gradually all of the gunboats, having suffered much
loss, dropped down the stream and passed out of range. The heavy
battery was also withdrawn from the hill and the detached attempt to
cross the Rappahannock had failed.
Stuart and his men rode back exultant, but Dalton said to Harry that he
thought it merely a forerunner.
"A good omen, you mean?" said Harry.
"Good, I hope, but I meant chiefly a sign of much greater things to
come. I'm thinking that Burnside will attack in a day or two now.
Lots of Northern newspapers find their way into our lines, and the whole
North is urging him on. They demand that a great victory be won in the
east right away."
"I feel sorry for a general who is pushed on like that."
"So do I, because he hasn't a ghost of a chance. He'll be able to cross
the river under cover of his great batteries, but look, Harry, look at
those frowning heights around Fredericksburg, covered with the finest
riflemen in the world, the ditches and trenches sown with artillery,
and the best two military brains on the globe there to direct. What
chance have they, Harry? What chance have they?"
"Very little that I can see, but a battle is never won or lost until
it's fought. We'd better report now to General Jackson."
They saluted General Stuart, and rode away over the icy mud. General
Jackson received their report with pleasure.
"Excellent! Excellent!" he said. "General Stuart has routed them with
horse artillery! A capable man! A most wonderful man!"
He said the last words to himself, rather than to Harry, and Stuart soon
proved that his horse artillery was not underrated by winning a second
encounter with the gunboats a day or two later. Early also beat back an
attempt to cross the river at a third place, and it became apparent now
that the Union army could make no flanking attack upon its enemy south
of the Rappahannock. It must be made, if at all, directly on its front
at Fredericksburg.
But Harry had no doubt that it would be made. The reports of their
numerous scouts and spies told with detail of the immense preparations
going on in the Union camp. He could often watch them himself with his
glasses from the hills. He did not see much of St. Clair and Langdon
these days, as they remained closely with their regiment, the
Invincibles, but Dalton and he were much together.
It was well into December when they were watching through the glasses
the concentration of Union cannon on Stafford Heights across the river.
One hundred and fifty great guns were in position there and they could
easily blow Fredericksburg to pieces. Harry looked down again at this
little city which had jumped suddenly into fame by getting itself
squarely between the two armies arrayed for battle.
He felt the old sensation of pity as he gazed at the closed shutters and
the smokeless chimneys. Nobody was stirring in the streets, except some
Mississippi soldiers who had been placed there to oppose the passage,
and who were fortifying themselves in the houses and cellars along the
river front.
"It's no good looking any more," Harry said to Dalton. "There's nothing
to do now but wait. That's what General Jackson is doing. I saw him
in his tent to-day, reading a book on theology that Dr. Graham has just
sent him."
"You're right, Harry. If the general can rest, so can we. Well,
not much of this day is left. See how the Yankee batteries are fading
away in the twilight."
"Yes, Harry, fading now, but they'll come back again, massive metal and
as sinister as ever, in the morning."
"Which won't keep me from sleeping soundly to-night. Funny how you get
used to anything. Neither the presence nor the absence of the Yankee
army will interfere with my sleep unless the general wants to send me on
an errand."
"And we also grow used to sights so tremendous in their nature that they
turn the whole current of our history. Look at that winter sun setting
there over the western hills. It may be my fancy, Harry, but it seems
to have the colors of bronze and steel in it, a sort of menace, one
might call it."
"I see the same colors, George, but I suppose it's fancy. The whole sky
is one of steel to me. I see the gleaming of steel everywhere, over the
hills, the river and the armies."
"Our imaginations are too vivid, Harry. But look how that darkness
closes in on everything! Now the Yankee cannon and the Yankee army
are gone! The river itself is fading, and there goes the town! Now,
see the lights spring up on the far shore!"
"It's supper and sleep for me," said Harry. "It doesn't do to let your
imagination run away with you. You know that Lee and Old Jack and Jim
Longstreet have arranged for everything."
They ate their suppers, and, the general giving them leave, they lay
down in the tent next to his, wrapped in their blankets. Harry slept
soundly, but while the pitchy darkness of a winter night still enclosed
the land he was awakened by a heavy rumbling noise. His nerves had been
attuned so highly by exciting days that he was awake in an instant and
sprang to his feet, Dalton also springing up with equal promptness.
They saw General Jackson standing in front of his tent and peering down
in the darkness toward the river. Other officers were already gathering
near him. Harry and Dalton stood at attention, where he could see them,
if he wished to send them on any errand. But Jackson was silent and
listening.
The heavy rumbling reports--cannon shots--came again, but they were
fired on their side of the river.
"Gentlemen," said General Jackson, "the enemy has begun the passage.
Those are our guns giving the signal to the army."
Harry's pulses began to throb. But, although fires flared up here and
there, little was to be seen in the darkness. Fortune seemed to have
shifted suddenly to the side of the Union. Not night alone protected
the bridge builders, but a thick, impenetrable fog, rising from the
river and the muddy earth, covered the stream and its shores. The
Southerners could not see just where the bridge head was and their
cannon must fire at random through the heavy darkness. Sixteen hundred
Mississippians were stationed in Fredericksburg below, well concealed
in cellars and rifle pits, but they could not see either, and for the
present their rifles were silent.
But Harry's imagination immediately became intensely vivid again.
He fancied that he could hear through all the shifting gloom the sound
of axes and hammers and saws at work upon that bridge. These army
engineers could throw a bridge across a river in half a day. He
recognized at all times the great resources and the mechanical genius of
the North. The South had good bridge builders herself, but she had bent
all her powers to the development of public men and soldiers. Harry
felt more intensely all the time the one-sided character of her growth
and its defects.
Dalton stood by Harry's side, and the darkness was so intense that he
seemed but a shadow. A little further away was Jackson. No fires had
been lighted in his camp, but nevertheless he was not a shadow. That
personality, quiet and modest, was so intense, so powerful that it
seemed to Harry to become luminous, to radiate light in the blackness
of the night. It was imagination, he knew, at work again, but it was
Jackson who had loosed its springs.
"Can you see your watch, George?" he whispered to Dalton.
"Yes, and its says only twenty minutes past three in the morning."
"And our signal guns began about twenty minutes ago. They will have
nearly four hours in which to work before the sun rises and we can see
them well enough to take good aim."
"And maybe longer than that, Harry. The whole night is permeated with
the heaviest inland fog I ever knew. Maybe it will take the sun a long
time to strike through it or drive it away. It's bad for us."
"But we'll win anyhow. I tell you, we'll win anyhow! Do you hear me,
George?"
"Yes, Harry, I hear you. You're excited. So am I. There are mighty
few who wouldn't be at such a time; but look at the general! He stands
like a statue!"
General Jackson did not move, save to lift his glasses now and then,
as if with their magnifying powers he could pierce the dark. But the
night and the swollen fog still hid everything going on beyond the river
from those on the heights. Down by the shore the Mississippians in
their rifle pits might see a little, and the scouts undoubtedly had seen
much, else the signal guns would not be firing.
Harry's pulses, after a while, began to beat more smoothly and there was
not such a painful and insistent drumming in his head. Emotions yielded
now to will and he waited patiently. General Jackson for the first time
told some of his young officers that they could lie down and rest.
"There can be no action before daylight," he said, "and it's best to be
fresh and ready."
He spoke to them with the grave kindness that he always used, save when
some great fault was committed, and then his words burned like fire.
Harry and Dalton procured their blankets from their tents, wrapped them
about their bodies and lay down on the dryest spots they could find,
but they had no thought of sleep. They permitted their limbs to relax,
and that was a help to the nerves, but neither closed his eyes.
Those dark hours seemed an eternity to Harry. The floating fog seemed
to grow thicker and to enter his very bones. He shivered and drew the
blanket close. Now, with his ears close to the earth, he was sure that
he could hear the axes and the saws and the hammers beating on steel
rivets on the other side of the Rappahannock.
The Confederate cannon still fired the signals of alarm at regular
intervals, but the night and the fog always closed in again quickly over
the flash that the discharge had made. After a while a murmur came from
the long Southern line along the heights and on the ridges. Horses
stirred here and there, cannon, moved to new positions, made sighing
sounds as their wheels sank in the mud; sabres and bayonets clanked,
thousands of men whispered to one another. All these varying sounds
united into one great soft voice which was like the murmur of a wind
through the summer night.
Toward five o'clock in the morning, when the darkness had not diminished
a whit, a messenger from General Lee rode up with a note for General
Jackson. It merely stated that all was ready and to hold the positions
that he had taken up the night before. Jackson wrote a brief reply by
the light of a lantern that an orderly held, and the messenger galloped
away with it. It was the only incident that had occurred in a long time.
"They're not using many lights on the other side of the river," said
Harry, although he noted an occasional flame in the darkness. "Of
course, they want to hide their bridge building, but you'd think they'd
have fires burning elsewhere."
"They've learned the value of caution," said Dalton. "I'm bound to say
they're going about the first part of their work with skill."
He spoke with the calm superiority of a young Officer.
Harry took out his own watch, and by holding it close to his eyes was
able to read its face.
"A quarter to six," he said. "According to the watch it is less than
three hours since we first heard those alarm guns, but my five known
senses and all the unknown tell me that it has been at least a week."
"In an hour we should see something," said Dalton. "Confound this fog.
If it weren't so thick we could see now."
Harry's pulses began to beat hard again in the next hour. He strove
with glasses even for a glimpse of the winter sun which he knew would
come so late, but as yet the fog showed nothing save a faint luminous
tinge low down in the east. An orderly brought food to them, and while
they ate they saw the luminous tinge broaden and deepen.
"The sun's rising behind that fog," said Dalton, "but here comes a
little wind that will drive away the fog or thin it out so we can see."
"Yes, I feel it," said Harry, "and you can see the dull, somber red of
the sun trying to break through. Look, George, unless I'm mistaken the
fog's moving down the river!"
"So it is, there's the flash of the stream, the color of steel, and by
all the stars, there's their bridge two-thirds of the way across!"
Heavier puffs of wind came and the fog billowed off down the river.
The whole gigantic theater of action sprang at once into the light.
There were the two great armies clustered on opposing ridges, there was
the deserted town, there was the deep river, the color of lead, flowing
between the foes, two-thirds of its width already spanned by the Union
bridge, the bridge itself covered with workmen, and boats swarming by
its side.
Harry felt a thrill and a shudder which were almost simultaneous.
Then came a deep muffled roar from the two armies on the ridges looking
at each other. But as the roar died it was succeeded by the rapid,
stinging fire of rifles. The Mississippians in their pits and cellars
near the bank of the river were sending a hail of bullets upon the
bridge builders.
The rest of the Southern army stood by and watched. Harry knew that
Lee and Jackson would make their chief defense on the ridges, but the
Mississippians were there to keep the enemy from being too forward.
So deadly were their rifles that every workman fled off the bridge to
the Union shore, save those who were struck down upon it, falling into
the water.
Then came a pause, a period of intense waiting, short, but seemingly
long, even to the veteran generals, after which the gallant builders,
who truly deserved the name of the bravest of the brave, ventured again
upon the bridge in the face of those terrible Mississippi rifles.
A blast of death again blew upon them. Bullets in hundreds struck upon
bodies or rattled on timbers. The workmen could not live in the face of
such a fire, and those who had not been slain retreated again to their
own side of the stream. A third time the heroic bridge builders
returned to their work, and a third time they were driven back by the
deadly Mississippi hail. Harry felt pity for them.
"I never saw anything braver," he said to Dalton.
"Nor did I, Harry, nor anything more useless. The bridge builders never
had a chance before the rifles. But now their supports, which should
have been there all the time, are coming up."
Heavy columns of Union riflemen moved forward to the edge of the river
and replied to the Mississippians. But the Southerners, in the shelter
of the cellars and pits, held their ground. But few of them were hit
and they kept up that deadly hail which swept the uncompleted bridge
clear of every workman who attempted to go upon it.
The rapid fire of the rifles crashed up and down both sides of the river,
two sheets of flame seeming to reach out as if they would meet each
other. The wind that had driven away the fog also carried off the smoke,
and the river still gleamed like steel between. Then, as the rifle fire
died again, there was another silence for a while.
"It will take more than rifles," said Harry, "to drive out those
intrenched Mississippians."
"So it will, Harry," said Dalton, who was watching through glasses,
"and here it comes. Their great batteries are about to open."
The next instant the whole earth seemed to be shaken by the roar of
heavy cannon. The opposing hills and ridges fairly poured forth flame,
and shells and solid shot crashed upon the whole devoted town. Nor did
this tremendous fire from a hundred and fifty great guns cease for an
instant. The roar and crash were appalling. Harry saw houses crumbling
in Fredericksburg, with flames leaping up from others.
The artillery of Longstreet immediately facing the Union batteries was
too light and weak to reply, and the gunners remained quiet in their
trenches while the storm rained its showers of steel upon the town.
Yet the Mississippians in the rifle pits held fast, their earthen
shelters protecting them. While the bombardment was at its very height
workmen ran out on the bridge for the fourth time to complete it,
and while the shells and solid shot were whistling over their heads,
the rifles of the Mississippians once more swept it clean. Harry
groaned. He could not help it at the sight of men so brave who were cut
down like grass by the scythe. Then his attention turned away from the
bridge to the mighty cannonade which seemed to be growing in volume.
The wind took much of the smoke across the river and it floated in a
great cloud over Fredericksburg, through which shot the flames of the
burning buildings.
But the main army of the South, stretched along a front of six miles,
remained silent. Jackson on the right scarcely moved, but all the while
he attentively watched through his glasses the great cannonade. Nearly
all the soldiers were lying down, and to most of them the earth seemed
to heave with the shock of all those blazing cannon.
Harry and Dalton walked once to the point where the Invincibles lay.
That is, all but Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel
St. Hilaire were lying down. They stood rigidly erect, their eyes on
the great cannonade, and as Harry approached they were exchanging brief
comments with each other.
"What harm does that cannonade do, Hector?" asked Colonel Talbot.
"Much to the town, little to us."
"What a pity we don't have an artillery equal to theirs."
"A great pity, Leonidas."
"They will presently move forward in much greater force to finish the
bridge."
"Undoubtedly, Leonidas. They have shown folly, wasting the lives of
such brave men in small efforts one after another. They will try
something else."
"I see a great many boats against the bank on their side of the river.
I fancy they will use them in their next attempt, whatever it may be."
"I agree with you. Good morning, Lieutenant Kenton. A mighty and
appalling sight."
"Truly it is, sir," said Harry, saluting the two officers.
"The Yankees will force the passage," said Colonel Talbot. "Our
artillery is not strong enough to reply to their covering cannonade.
We are glad to see you safe and whole, Harry. You'll find your friends
lying in that ravine just behind us."
It was a rather deep ravine, and when Harry looked over its edge,
St. Clair and Langdon greeted him gladly.
"Come down, Harry," said Langdon, "and be joyful. This gully is pretty
well dried out and you can rest. We've got a West Point fellow here and
he's humming one of his old songs to about the biggest chorus a song
ever had. Captain Swayne, Lieutenant Kenton, once of the Invincibles,
but now of General Jackson's personal staff. Swayne's from Tennessee,
Harry, and you two are well met. Swayne belongs to a regiment a few
yards beyond the gully. He was at the Seven Days and the Second
Manassas. We three thought we won those battles ourselves, but it seems
that Swayne was at both all the time, helping us. Take off your cap,
Harry, and thank the gentleman."
Swayne, a slender, fair man, not over twenty-three, smiled and extended
a hearty hand, which Harry received with equal heartiness. The smile
turned into a slight twinkle.
"I've been glad to meet your friends here, Mr. Kenton," he said, "but
the meeting has brought a disappointment with it."
"How's that?"
"Until we began talking I thought I had won the Seven Days and the
Second Manassas all by myself. Now, it seems that I have to share the
honors with you fellows."
"So you do," said Langdon, and then he sang:
"There comes a voice from Florida,
From Tampa's lonely shore,
It speaks of one we've lost,
O'Brien is no more.
In the land of sun and flowers,
His head lies pillowed low,
No more he'll drink the gin cocktail,
At Benjamin Haven's, Oh!
At Benny Haven's, Oh!
At Benny Haven's, Oh!"
"Do I get it right, Swayne? Remember that I heard you sing it only
three times."
"Fine! Fine!" said Swayne with enthusiasm. "You have it right, or as
near right as need be, and you're using it in a much better voice than I
can."
"I'm a great soldier, but my true place is on the operatic stage,"
said Langdon modestly.
"It's an old West Point song of ours, Kenton," said Swayne. "While I
was lying here listening to the continued roar of all those great guns,
I couldn't keep from humming it as a sort of undernote."
"This gully has a queer effect," said St. Clair, who, lying on a blanket,
was dusting every minute particle of dried mud from his uniform.
"It seems to soften the sounds of all those guns--and they must be a
couple of hundred at least. It produces a kind of harmony."
"It's the old god Vulcan and a thousand assistants of his hammering away
on their anvils," said Harry, "and they hammer out a regular tune."
"Besides hammering out a tune," said St. Clair, "they're also hammering
out swords and bayonets to be used against us."
As he spoke he drew from his pocket a tiny round mirror, not more than
three inches in diameter, and carefully examined the collar of his coat.
"Have you found a speck, Arthur?" asked Langdon. "If I hadn't seen you
risk your life fifteen or twenty thousand times I'd say you're a dandy."
"I am a dandy," said St. Clair. "At least, I mean to be one, if I come
out of the war alive."
"What do you intend to wear?" asked Harry.
"Depends upon what I can afford. If I have the money, it's going to be
the best, the very best any market can afford."
"A dozen suits, I suppose."
"At least as many, with hats, shoes, overcoats, cloaks, shirts and all
the et ceteras to match. Why shouldn't I wear fine clothes if I want
'em? Do you demand that instead I spend it on fiery whisky to pour down
me, as so many public men and leading citizens do? The clothes at least
don't burn me out and finally burn me to death."
Langdon put up his hands in defense.
"I haven't jumped on you, Arthur," he said. "I admire you, though I
can't equal you. And as I'm not willing to be second even to you,
I'm going to our sea island, near the Carolina coast, when this war is
over, lie down under the shade of a live oak, have our big colored man,
Sam, to bring me luxurious food about once every three hours, and
between these three-hour periods I'll be fanned by Julius, another big
colored man of ours, and I won't make any exertion except to tell day by
day to admiring visitors how I whipped the Yankees every time I could
get near enough to see 'em, and how a lot more were scared to death just
because they heard me crashing through the brush."
"You'll do the bragging part, all right, Happy," said St. Clair.
"I believe you could keep up the sort of existence you describe for
a year at least."
"I'd like to try. Now, what under the stars is that?"
Nothing had happened. Something had merely ceased to happen. The great
cannonade had stopped in an instant, as if by a preconcerted signal,
and their nerves, attuned so long to such a continuous roar, seemed to
collapse, because some support was withdrawn. Harry's face turned white
and his heart beat very fast, but in a few moments he recovered himself.
"I suppose they've given it up for the time being," he said, "but
they're sure to try it again in some other way."
"That's a safe prediction," said St. Clair. "Burnside is trying to get
across the Rappahannock to attack us, because the whole North is driving
him on, and he hasn't got the moral courage to hold back until he can
choose his time and place. Funny how this silence oppresses one."
The whole Southern army, along its six miles of length, was now standing
up and looking toward the point on the other shore of the Rappahannock
where the Union batteries were massed. All work seemed to have been
abandoned there, although the troops were still clustered along the
shore and about the bridge head. Clouds of smoke from the great
batteries floated down the river.
"A Yankee failure so far, Harry," said Colonel Leonidas Talbot. "The
bridge has advanced no further, and I should say that our shore is now
enriched by about fifty thousand pounds of steel hurled from those
batteries and with little harm to us."
"I've no doubt you're right, sir," said Harry, "and now that a period of
rest has come, I shall hurry back to General Jackson, who may need me to
carry some order."
"A moment, please, Harry, my boy," said Colonel Talbot, twirling his
mustaches. "You are near to General Jackson, of course, being his
personal aide. If it should fall out conveniently, would you do myself
and my most excellent friend and second, Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire,
a small favor?"
"Of course, Colonel. Gladly. What is it?"
"If the enemy should cross the river, as he probably will, and if you
should be near enough to Lieutenant-General Thomas Jonathan Jackson,
and if the moment should be propitious, would you kindly whisper in
his ear that the skeleton regiment, known as the Invincibles, Leonidas
Talbot, Colonel, and Hector St. Hilaire, Lieutenant-Colonel, would be
overjoyed at the honor of leading the attack upon the intrusive and
invading Yankee army?"
"Promise, Harry, promise!" seconded Lieutenant-Colonel Hector
St. Hilaire in his softest and most persuasive South Carolina accent.
"You really owe that to us."
"I promise gladly," replied Harry; "but you know what General Jackson
is. He makes his plans without telling anybody what they are, and he
carries them out. If it is a part of his plan for the Invincibles to
lead the attack, so far as his division is concerned, you'll lead it.
If not, you won't."
"But still a word in his ear might have some influence," persisted
Colonel Talbot. "It might come at the very moment when he was
hesitating over a choice, and it would probably decide him in our favor."
"Then I shall do my best, sir," said Harry. "You can rely upon me"
He returned to General Jackson, but found that his commander was yet
inactive. He was still waiting and watching with a patience that seemed
equal to that of the Sphinx. Noon came, food was served, and the hours
trailed their slow length on.
Then they saw a great movement in the Union army. The Northern generals
were about to make their supreme effort. Hooker, who had shown such
desperate courage at Antietam and who had won the name of Fighting Joe,
called for men who would cross the river in boats under the fire of
the Mississippi rifles. It looked like certain death, but four entire
regiments came forward at once. They entered the boats, which promptly
pulled for the right bank, and the great batteries at once opened a
covering fire.
The Mississippians once more sent forth their hail of bullets, but the
boats were so numerous that, although some were stopped, the majority
came on. Man after man, shot through, fell over the sides into the
deep river. Sometimes a boat itself sank, but the main force rapidly
approached the Southern side.
"They have lost many men, but they will make the crossing at last,
Harry," said Dalton.
"So it seems," said Harry. "I suppose our generals could bring up
enough men to drive them back, but it looks as if they don't want to
do it."
"It may be that they're holding the trap open for the victim to walk in."
"However it may be, they're across. See, they're landing in thousands,
and the Mississippians, leaving their rifle pits, are retreating.
Now they can finish the bridge and as many more as they need at their
leisure."
The retreating Mississippians rejoined their comrades, and still the
Southern army did not stir. The Northern army, almost unmolested,
continued its bridge building, and the afternoon and a dark night passed.