[Illustration: 9098]
HASTY {090}breakfast, with a rigid inspection of their
muskets, and a hurried packing of knapsacks, preceded the long role of
the drum, the signal to be up and doing. The sight of a body of soldiers
with their glittering arms and tasty uniforms is inspiriting, and dull
and cold must be the bosom that does not leap quicker at the thought
that he belongs to this grand whole. Ralph felt a thrill of exultation
as he realized that he was a part and parcel of the men who were massed
on the bank of the Potomac that bright October day. There were Ralph's
regiment of Massachusetts men, the Forty-second New York, Seventy-first
Pennsylvania and a Rhode Island battery, counting, in all, some 2,000
men, watching for a chance to cross at an island which lay there.
The day was beautiful--the sun poured down his warm beams, for in
that region the winter is late. Many were the openly spoken murmurs of
impatience, however, on the part of the men.
“We shall never get across till doomsday,” Bill Elliott said to Ralph.
“Look at our men, over 2,000 of them, and we've only got two or three
old boats to carry us over. With all due respect to General McClellan,
I think he's made a great big mistake, as General Stone will find to his
cost before we're over. The Johnnies can see all we're doing and get
all ready for us. Why, it'll be dead easy for them to receive us in fine
shape.”
“They are having hard work with that battery, getting it up the bluff.
See how they slip at every step.”
And as Ralph watched the battery being dragged up with prodigious
exertion his heart felt heavy, and he, too, began to fear there was an
oversight somewhere.
[Illustration: 0099]
At {091}the top of the bluff lay a broad field of about ten acres,
hemmed in on all sides by thick woods, so dense that neither infantry
nor artillery could penetrate them in line. Colonel Baker was given
entire command of all the troops. Then began a desperate and gallant
attempt, which the Confederates met, dashing out from the timber, and
though the Federals fired round after round from their battery, it was a
hopeless conflict, for the rebel sharpshooters picked off their gunners,
one after another, and the pieces were left useless.
Still {092}on the Union forces pressed, to be met by a heavy body of
infantry, whose hot fire cut them down. For two hours they stood their
ground gallantly, and returned the fire with spirit. Suddenly an officer
riding a splendid horse, whose snowy sides were covered with foam,
dashed out of the woods, and coming toward them, waving his sword over
his head, he beckoned the Union forces forward.
Colonel Baker took new courage; he thought he recognized General
Johnston in the horseman, and wildly cheering to his command to follow,
he pressed forward, hoping at last he should meet the enemy in an open
fight. But he was met by a fierce onset of the Confederates, who came on
with tremendous force. Like a solid wall they met the Federals, and as
part of the latter's columns charged, Colonel Baker received the whole
contents of a revolver in the hands of one of the rebels, and fell dead.
His body was rescued through the bravery of Captain Beiral and his
company, who fought their way back through the thickest of the opposing
force, and with desperate courage rescued the body of their dead
commander, and conveyed it to the island. At once the rout began, and
the Union forces were driven back, down the steep clay bluffs, one
hundred feet high, falling, jumping down, pushed by the Confederates,
who followed at their heels, killing and taking prisoners.
It was an awful spectacle. Men whose courage could not be doubted, were
panic-stricken, and throwing away coats, muskets, and everything
that could impede them, plunged into the river, whose rapid current
overwhelmed them, and to their shrieks as they drowned, was added the
rapid firing of the Confederates on the cliff above, the roar of the
artillery, the cries of the wounded, making a scene of horror which
cannot be described. The imagination alone can fill in the picture.
Among the incidents of this day may be mentioned a desertion of one
of the regiments by its colonel, who swam the river on horseback, thus
making his escape. Many took to a boat, which was quickly filled, and
as quickly sunk with every soul. A {093}captain in the Fifteenth
Massachusetts came to the rescue of the fleeing Federals, with two
companies, and charged up the hill, only to see how little help he
could give, and a few moments decided him to wave his handkerchief, and
surrender to the Confederates.
Dispirited and weary, the remnant of the troops moved back to camp.
Their loss had been heavy. Over five hundred soldiers had been captured
by the Confederates, Colonel Baker had been shot, and they had lost
arms, ammunition and clothing.
Corporal Ralph Gregory had shown coolness and clearheaded courage, equal
to the oldest and bravest. When the battle began, the color-sergeant
had received a ball in the breast, and had fallen dead. Seizing the
flag from his stiffening fingers, Ralph rushed to the front, and held
it manfully, through the storm of bullets that riddled its folds, and
clinging desperately to it, he carried it proudly and safely, soiled and
torn, but not disgraced.
But his strength was not equal to his courage, and handing it to a
stalwart comrade whose arm was more powerful, he bade him to “protect
it from capture.” The colors went back to camp, and with them, went the
story of the boy's bravery.
Ralph was weak, his nerves were unstrung. His ears still echoed the
noise and confusion of the battle that had not yet died away. Still the
Union men were fleeing, pursued closely by their enemy, who wounded them
with muskets and swords, as they ran. The agonized shrieks of those
who met their death in the swift-flowing stream rang in his ears with
fearful distinctness, and he vaguely wondered if he would ever cease to
hear them.
He was unnerved. It was not cowardice, but the reaction that so often
follows times of great excitement. Exhaustion, complete and unavoidable,
had taken possession of him. He reeled like a drunken man. Making a
frantic effort to recover himself, he sank on the earth amid a clump of
leaves and brush, that half hid him from observation. How long he lay
in this stupor he could not tell, but when he became conscious of
the dreadful {094}place he was in, he slowly struggled to his feet,
half-dazed and bewildered. His first thought was to wonder where Bill
was. He recollected that he had fled in hot haste with the others, and
the last glimpse of him which he had, was when the plucky Massachusetts
captain made his stand, but was compelled to surrender. He was sure that
he had been wounded, for he saw blood streaming down Bill's face, as he
ran.
[Illustration: 8102]
“Could he have escaped, or is he among the dead lying here?” he thought.
“I must search for him.”
And as he threaded his way among the dead and wounded as best he could
in the twilight, he stumbled over the body of a boy. Kneeling down, he
turned the lad's face upward, and in the dim light he knew him.
“It is Charlie Arlington!--he is surely dead!”
The boy opened his eyes, and seeing Ralph, he assured him that he was
not wounded, but he feared his ankle was sprained. “I told you,” he
said, with a smile, “that we should meet again.”
“You did, but I did not think it would be so soon. Are you injured?”
“Only by my horse, who stumbled and threw me with such force against
that old stump that I fainted with pain. Do you think my leg is broken?”
“Let me examine it. No, I don't think it is. How are you going to ride,
however? Where is your horse?”
“Oh, he ran away after serving me that mean trick. But why {095}are you
here? Don't you know you are my prisoner now?” he continued, smiling
broadly.
“How's that?” Ralph spoke sharp and loud.
“Hush!” the other cautioned. “You'll have a dozen soldiers after you.
They're coming back to bury the dead. Of course you're my prisoner.
You're on our field--were you not routed?”
This fact rather staggered Ralph. It had not come home to him till then;
he looked anxiously toward the river's bank.
The boy divined his thought.
“It's no use to try to swim that stream here. The current's too strong.”
[Illustration: 8103]
“It seems I'm your prisoner, then.” Ralph's sad tones spoke volumes. The
horrors of captivity stared him in the face. He thought at that instant,
of his mother, sisters and the dear old home, and his heart was heavy as
lead.
Charlie appeared to be enjoying the advantage he had over Ralph, for he
never removed his gaze.
“I've but to raise my voice and you'd be surrounded in an instant.”
“But how is it you are here now; I thought you knew nothing about the
army,” said Ralph.
“I {096}didn't when I last saw you, but I joined the Southern army the
next week. I am in the cavalry service.”
Ralph's curiosity would never be silenced. “Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes, and no. I have been in several engagements, but the hardest blow
I had was when they carried my father home dead, and I asked for a
furlough, to go home to see him once more, and was refused.”
Here the boy nearly broke down. Ralph's sympathies were aroused at
once. He knew not what to say. But Charlie recovered himself soon, and
continued--“You see how I'm placed now. I shall _have_ to take you into
our camp.”
“I wish Bill were here!” Ralph blurted out. “He wouldn't see me taken
prisoner so easily.”
To him Bill represented the sum total of all knowledge, and he felt
confident of his ability to rescue him, even in the face of the danger
that now menaced him.
A low whistle startled both boys. A few feet from them, stretched
lengthwise of a fallen tree, lay Bill, who raised his head, which was
bleeding freely.,
“I've a good mind to take you both prisoners!” he said, jocosely. “What
are you exchanging courtesies for? The boy's right. Unless we can get
away in a very big hurry, he can land us both in the rebel camp, and
then it'll be all over with us. You'd better be planning each other's
escape, and then you'll both be likely to be court-martialed!”
“It's my luck, isn't it? I can't blame Charlie if he does take me. But I
haven't got anything against him.”
“Neither has any of us got anything against any of the Johnnies. This is
not a personal affair, at all. But just the same we've got to fight 'em
because they're agin the government.”
Ralph looked closer at Bill. “You're wounded, and will be carried to
prison, too! Oh, Bill, what will become of you?”
{097}
[Illustration: 0105]
“It's nothing but a scratch. I lay here awhile till those fellows'
{098}guns gave out, for I felt a little dizzy, and didn't care to get up
till the smoke cleared away, and I could make out my bearings.”
A groan from their companion recalled them to their position. Ralph was
in a fever of anxiety. War was a brutalizing affair, he pondered.
“You mustn't have any feelings at all, Bill, if you want to be a good
soldier.”
“Nary a feeling. Humanity don't cut no figger in a battle. Why, boy,
I've stood in the ranks and seen father on one side, and son on the
other, blazing away with hate and bitterness in their eyes. And all
on account of a mere difference of opinion.” Ralph shuddered. “It is
dreadful; but war shall never make me so hardened and indifferent to
suffering that I will not do all I can in honor to relieve it. I intend
to fulfill all my duties as a soldier, but do not see why I should
hesitate to show mercy to an injured foe.”
“He's the right sort,” Bill chuckled to himself.
With that thought in his mind, Ralph went nearer to Charlie, and
said--“Give me your handkerchief, and I will bandage your ankle.” In a
few moments he had finished binding it on, tightly and skillfully, while
the boy looked his gratitude.
“It feels a little easier,” he said, “the pain was intense.” Bill
watched them both narrowly. In his heart he admired “the little rebel
cuss,” but he wished him a thousand miles away, for he saw that it was
impossible to make their escape, as Charlie had only to raise his voice
as he had suggested, and the enemy would be upon them.
It was a moment of anxiety for the man and his companion. Charlie was
the most indifferent of the three. “I'd rather have been killed than
have to go to their prison, for who knows how long it may be before I am
exchanged?” thought Bill.
The firing had ceased, and darkness had settled o'er the earth. Suddenly
Charlie seemed to recollect something, for he whispered--“Go--you must
go, at once. The detail will soon be here, to bury our poor boys, and
they will have you, sure. Go down the bluff as still as you can; don't
loosen a pebble even, for there {099}are sharp ears near. Keep close
to the river bank, and about half a mile down you'll see an old tree
standing that has been struck by lightning. Two rods north of the tree a
little skiff is hid in the tall weeds. Take it and row across. Go quick,
and, above all, make no noise. My life, as well as yours, is in danger.
They'd shoot me in a minute, if they knew I helped you escape.”
“You're a brick--you are!” broke out Bill, admiringly. Ralph wrung his
hand. “What will you do? You can't lie here all night.”
“They'll find me all right and carry me off to the hospital. I can talk,
if I can't walk, and I'll soon let them know where I am. But you haven't
a second to waste. Go!”
The hint, so urgently given, was acted upon, and none too speedily, for
a moment after, the men appeared, and Charlie was suddenly seized with a
violent fit of coughing, so loud and boisterous, it was well calculated
to cover any noise which Ralph and Bill might unintentionally make. He
was placed on a litter and borne away.
Bill scarce drew a breath until his feet touched the bottom of the boat.
Charlie's violent cough had served them well, for though they stole
noiselessly down the bluff, the night was so still that a breath almost
could be detected. They were soon across the noble river, and their
hearts beat tumultuously when they found themselves safe within the
Union lines.
Bill's wound was not serious, so he declared. He even objected to the
few days in the hospital which the surgeon prescribed. His good nature
never left him.
“Sick men may go and lay up, but you cain't kill Old Bill. I'm presarved
for something better than to stop a bullet. I've been through too many
hard sieges to give in for a little blow like that was.”
“You've got another invite to see the Colonel,” a grizzled old soldier
said to Ralph a day or two after the engagement. “He desires the
pleasure of your company in his tent. Leastwise, that's what it amounts
to, though that ain't the language he {100}made use of. Wonder why I
don't be asked once in awhile? He don't know what he's losing by not
consulting me. But hurry up--'tain't perlite to keep him waiting.”
Ralph trembled visibly, and every drop of blood turned to ice. He knew
something must be wrong. Perhaps he ought not to have helped Charlie,
but what else could he do? He walked briskly toward the tent of the
officer.
Colonel Hopkins was a stern, battle-scarred old soldier, who wasted no
words. His keen vision could discover merit, however, and as he looked
steadily at Ralph, he took his measure at once.
[Illustration: 9108]
“Your captain tells me you saved the colors of the regiment, in the late
engagement?”
“I did, Colonel.”
“And you risked your life in so doing.”
“Why should I not? I am a soldier, sir!” and the boy's “I will, with the
help of Heaven!” was Ralph's fervent utterance, as he followed the
orderly from the Colonel's tent.
{101}
[Illustration: 0109]
One of the most brilliant affaire of the war was the charge of a body of
cavalry under Fremont. This was a fine and choice {102}array of cavalry,
known as “Fremont's Body Guard,” whose exploits were famous. It was
commanded by Major Charles Zagonyi, a Hungarian, whose military record
had been made in Europe.
[Illustration: 9110]
This dashing and fiery soldier, with a band of 160 men, charged upon
a Confederate force of 2,000, who were drawn up in a hollow square.
He rode across the field, unheeding the firing of the skirmishers, but
charged into the midst of the Confederates, and with pistols and sabers,
scattered them like dry leaves in the autumn wind. Not content with
this, the daring Major chased them into the streets of Springfield, and
fought them hand to hand.
After this daring and unequaled achievement, he hoisted the National
flag upon the courthouse at Springfield, sent a guard to care for the
wounded, and then went quietly back to Bolivar.
[Illustration: 0110]