A CALL TO DUTY
The family name was an uncommon one, and, coupled as it was with
"Louisiana," and the title "Captain," could refer only to Gerald Le
Gaire. I wanted to question, the lad, but refrained, spurring my horse
ahead so as to remove the temptation. Even the little already said
plainly revealed that he resented bitterly his position in life, and
determined to remain no longer in slavery to his own father. His father!
That would be Le Gaire! The thought added fuel to the flame of dislike
which I already cherished against the man. Of course legally this former
relationship between master and slave meant nothing; it would be
considered no bar to legitimate marriage; perhaps to one brought up in
the environment of slavery it would possess no moral turpitude even, yet
to me it seemed a foul, disgraceful thing. Whether it would so appear to
Miss Willifred I could not even conjecture; she was of the South, with,
all the prejudice and peculiarity of thought characteristic of her
section. Pure-hearted, womanly, as I believed her to be, this earlier
alliance still might not seem to her particularly reprehensible.
Certainly it was not my part to bring it to her attention, or to utilize
my knowledge of the situation to advance my cause, or injure Le Gaire.
Nor would I question the ex-slave further; I already knew enough, too
much possibly, although curiosity was not dormant, and I wondered what
had become of the mother, and from what special cause had arisen the
intense hatred in the heart of the son.
We rode steadily forward all day, under fire twice, and once charging a
battery. All that opposed our advance however was a thin fringe of
troops, intent merely upon causing delay, and making a brief stand, only
to fall back promptly as soon as we flung forward any considerable body
of men. By night-fall we had attained a position well within the bend of
the river, the centre and left wing had achieved a crossing, and our
entire line had closed up so as to display a solid front. The Ninth
bivouacked in the hills, our rest undisturbed, except for the occasional
firing of the pickets. With dawn we were under arms, feeling our way
forward, and, an hour later, the two armies were face to face. Nearly
evenly mated, fighting across a rough country, neither side could claim
victory at the end of the day. While we on the right forced our line
forward for nearly five miles, leaving behind us a carpet of dead, the
left and centre met with such desperate resistance as to barely retain
their earlier position. It required an hour of night fighting to close
up the gap, and we slept on our arms, expecting an early morning
assault. Instead of attempting this the enemy fell back to their second
line of intrenchments, and, after waiting a day to determine their
movements and strengthen our own line, we again advanced, feeling our
way slowly in, but finally meeting with a resistance which compelled
a halt.
The details of this battle belong to history, not to these pages. The
Ninth bore no conspicuous part, hovering on the extreme right flank,
engaged in continuous skirmishing, and scouting along miles of front.
The morning of the third day found the armies fronting each other,
defiant yet equally afraid to join battle, both commanders seeking for
some point of strategy which would yield advantage--we of the North
fearful of advancing against intrenchments, and those of the South not
daring to come forth into the open. For the moment it was a truce
between us--the truce of two exhausted bull-dogs, lying face to face
with gleaming teeth, ready to spring at the first opening.
We of the Ninth were at the edge of an opening in the woods, with low
hills on either hand, our pickets within easy musket-shot of the
gray-clad videttes beyond the fringe of trees. Knowing our own success
we could not comprehend this inaction, or the desperate fighting which
held back the troops to the east, and we were impatient to go in. I was
lying on my back in the shelter of a slight hollow, wondering at the
surrounding stillness, wishing for anything to occur which would give
action, when the major rode up, accompanied by another officer in an
artillery uniform. I was on my feet in an instant saluting.
"Lieutenant Galesworth, this is Captain Kent, an aide on General
Sheridan's staff. He desires you to accompany him to headquarters."
My heart bounding with anticipation, within five minutes I was riding
beside him, back to the river road, and along the rear of our extended
line. He was a pleasant, genial fellow, but knew nothing of why I had
been summoned, his orders being simply to bring me at once. Two hours of
hard riding, and we came to a double log cabin, with a squad of horsemen
in front, and a considerable infantry guard near by. A sentry paced back
and forth in front of the steps, and several officers were sitting on
the porch. Dismounting, my companion handed the reins of both horses to
a trooper, and led the way in. A word to the sentinel, and we faced the
group above. One, a sharp-featured man, with very dark complexion, rose
to his feet.
"What is it, Kent?"
"This is Lieutenant Galesworth, of the Ninth Illinois Cavalry. The
general will wish to see him at once."
The dark-featured man glanced at me, and turned back into the house, and
Kent introduced me to the others, none of whom I recognized. This was
not Sheridan's staff, but before I could question any of them, the
messenger returned, and motioned for me to follow. It was a large room,
low-ceilinged, with three windows, the walls of bare logs whitewashed,
the floor freshly swept, the only furniture a table and a few chairs.
But two men were present, although a sentinel stood motionless at the
door,--a broad-shouldered colonel of engineers, with gray moustache and
wearing glasses, sitting at a table littered with papers, and a short
stocky man, attired in a simple blue blouse, with no insignia of rank
visible, his back toward me, gazing out of a window. I took a single
step within, and halted. The short man wheeled about at the slight
sound, his eyes on my face; I recognized instantly the closely trimmed
beard, the inevitable cigar between the lips, and, with a leap of the
heart, my hand rose to the salute.
"Lieutenant Galesworth?"
"Yes, General."
"Very well; you may retire, Colonel Trout, and, sentry, close the door."
His keen gray eyes scrutinized my face, betraying no emotion, but he
advanced closer, one hand upon the table.
"General Sheridan informs me he has found you a valuable scout, always
ready for any service, however dangerous."
"I have endeavored to carry out my orders, General," I answered quietly.
"So I am told," in the same even voice. "The army is full of good men,
brave men, but not all possess sufficient intelligence and willingness
to carry out an independent enterprise. Just now I require such a man,
and Sheridan recommends you. How old are you?"
I answered, and barely waiting the sound of my voice, he went on:
"You have scouted over this country?"
"I have, sir."
"How far to the south?"
"About five miles beyond the Three Corners."
"Not far enough, is it, Parker?" turning to the officer at the table.
"The house is below," was the response, "but perhaps I had better
explain the entire matter to Lieutenant Galesworth, and let him decide
for himself whether he cares to make the attempt."
The general nodded approval, and walked back to the window, his hands
clasped behind his back. Parker spread out a map.
"Just step over here, Lieutenant. This is our present position,
represented by the irregular blue line; those red squares show the
enemy's forces as far as we understand them. The crosses represent
batteries, and the important intrenchments are shown by the double
lines. Of course this is imperfect, largely drawn from the reports of
scouts. Their line is slightly shorter than our own, our right
overlapping, but they have a stronger reserve force protecting the
centre. Now notice the situation here," and he traced it with his
pencil. "Your regiment is practically to the rear of their main line of
defence, but the nature of the ground renders them safe. There is a,
deep ravine here, trending to the southeast, and easily defended. Now
note, ten miles, almost directly south of Three Corners, on the open
pike, the first building on the right-hand side beyond a log church,
stands an old plantation house. It is a large building, painted white,
in the midst of a grove of trees, and in the rear is a commodious stable
and a dozen negro cabins. The map shows this house to be somewhat to
the right of the Confederate centre, and about five miles to the rear of
their first line."
I bent over, intent on the map, endeavoring to fix each point clearly in
my mind. Parker paused in his speech, and the general turned about, his
eyes fastened upon us.
"I understand," I said finally.
"Very well. Deserters informed us last night that Johnston had taken
this house for his headquarters. This morning one of our most reliable
scouts confirms the report, and says the place can be easily approached
by a small party using the ravine for concealment, coming in past the
negro cabins at the rear."
My eyes brightened, as I straightened up, instantly comprehending the
plan.
"What guard have they?"
"A few sentinels at the house, and a squad of cavalry in the stable.
Naturally they feel perfectly safe so far to the rear of their own
lines. It is the very audacity of such an attempt which makes success
possible."
The general stepped forward.
"Don't take this as an order, Lieutenant," he said bluntly. "It will
mean a desperate risk, and if you go, you must comprehend thoroughly the
peril involved. You were recommended as the best man to lead such a
party, but we supposed you already knew that country."
"I can place my hand on a man who does know every inch of it," I
replied, my mind clear, and my decision reached. "I thank you for the
privilege."
"Good; when?"
"To-night, of course; there is ample time to prepare."
"How many men will you require?"
I hesitated, but for barely an instant.
"Not to exceed ten, General--a small party will accomplish as much as a
larger one, and be less liable to attract attention. All I need will
volunteer from my own company."
Apparently his own thought coincided with mine, for he merely looked at
me a moment with those searching gray eyes, and then turned to the map,
beckoning me to join him.
"Familiarize yourself with every detail of the topography of the
region," he said, his finger on the paper. "Colonel Parker will explain
anything you may need to know." He straightened up, and extended his
hand, the cigar still crushed between his teeth. "I believe you are the
right stuff, Lieutenant; young enough to be reckless, old enough to know
the value of patience. Are you married?"
I shook my head, with a smile, yet conscious my cheeks were flushed.
"Then I am going to say to you--go, and do the best you can. Parker will
give you any other instructions you desire. Good-bye, my lad, and
good luck."
He turned and left the room, my eyes following him until the door
closed.