Searching for his division commander,
General Cameron and his escort had followed the line of battle for
nearly a mile to the right of Ransome's battery, and there learned that
the division commander had gone in search of the corps commander. It
seemed that everybody was looking for his immediate superior--an ominous
circumstance. It meant that nobody was quite at ease. So General Cameron
rode on for another half-mile, where by good luck he met General
Masterson, the division commander, returning.
"Ah, Cameron," said the higher officer, reining up, and throwing his
right leg across the pommel of his saddle in a most unmilitary way--
"anything up? Found a good position for your battery, I hope--if one
place is better than another in a fog."
"Yes, general," said the other, with the greater dignity appropriate to
his less exalted rank, "my battery is very well placed. I wish I could
say that it is as well commanded."
"Eh, what's that? Ransome? I think him a fine fellow. In the army we
should be proud of him."
It was customary for officers of the regular army to speak of it as "the
army." As the greatest cities are most provincial, so the
self-complacency of aristocracies is most frankly plebeian.
"He is too fond of his opinion. By the way, in order to occupy the hill
that he holds I had to extend my line dangerously. The hill is on my
left--that is to say the left flank of the army."
"Oh, no, Hart's brigade is beyond. It was ordered up from Drytown during
the night and directed to hook on to you. Better go and--"
The sentence was unfinished: a lively cannonade had broken out on the
left, and both officers, followed by their retinues of aides and
orderlies making a great jingle and clank, rode rapidly toward the spot.
But they were soon impeded, for they were compelled by the fog to keep
within sight of the line-of-battle, behind which were swarms of men, all
in motion across their way. Everywhere the line was assuming a sharper
and harder definition, as the men sprang to arms and the officers, with
drawn swords, "dressed" the ranks. Color-bearers unfurled the flags,
buglers blew the "assembly," hospital attendants appeared with
stretchers. Field officers mounted and sent their impedimenta to the
rear in care of negro servants. Back in the ghostly spaces of the forest
could be heard the rustle and murmur of the reserves, pulling themselves
together.
Nor was all this preparation vain, for scarcely five minutes had passed
since Captain Ransome's guns had broken the truce of doubt before the
whole region was aroar: the enemy had attacked nearly everywhere.
V