"On to Richmond," said the Northern papers. "Sweep the flag of rebellion
to the Gulf!" And obedient to popular clamor, and in defiance of common
sense, the Government ordered its little army--a handful of regulars and
marines, three dozen regiments of State militia, or of half-drilled,
unseasoned volunteers--to advance and attack an army of equal size, made
up of enthusiastic Southerners as undrilled as the Northern volunteers,
but the flower of their manhood, defending their own soil, in their
chosen position. The July sun beat hotly down on the long column,
plodding south-westward through Fairfax. Many a poor fellow fell by the
wayside, unable to keep up the pace and carry his heavy burden. Many a
regiment broke ranks at sight of a farm well or at mention of a spring,
and scores of stragglers stopped to pick blackberries by the way,
defiant of the pleadings of their officers. Some Pennsylvania
militiamen, at the last moment, refused to go farther than Centreville,
and, with a New York militia battery, demanded their discharge on the
plea that their time had expired. Some others succeeded in persuading
the authorities in individual cases, and, to the scandal of those who
tried and did not succeed, turned back to Washington. Those jaunty red
jackets of the drum-boys in Shorty's old regiment looked worn and tawdry
by this time, and the youngster whose wrists protruded far beyond the
limit of the sleeves designed for the "little un" had more than once
wished the original occupant back in his old place and his successor out
of it. But that drum corps had seen the last of their smallest member,
and he of them, for many a day. Billy Archer, he who was to tell Shorty
when he came where to find Snipe, had been sent home sick at the end of
the first month, and only seven of the biggest and strongest remained to
beat the old "six-eights" and "two-fours" when the regiment marched for
Manassas. There had come a letter from Shorty to Billy Archer with an
enclosure to Snipe, but Snipe and his regiment disappeared the night
before, and Archer didn't know enough to have it forwarded. He thought
they would meet again within a day or two, when, in point of fact, they
did not meet at all. Shorty's old regiment was assigned to a brigade on
the north side of the Potomac, and Snipe's new-comers were marched over
the Long Bridge to the sacred soil of Virginia and brigaded with troops
from three different States, and there, as the grave, big Captain Stark
had said, the representative of the First Latin spent hours at his
commander's tent, studying tactics and regulations and a little book
called "Mahan's Outposts," when Stark wasn't using them, and twice it
had happened that when the New England regiment was called upon to
furnish the details for grand guard and picket, the tall, slender,
brown-eyed boy in Company "C" was able to tell corporals and sergeants
things about their duties they never had dreamed of. So, too, on
battalion drill, Snipe, who used to hate such things, and even now bent
under the weight of his long musket, had a more intelligent idea of the
purpose of each formation and movement than most of the file-closers,
some lieutenants not excepted. Before they had been a month in Virginia
Captain Stark had taken a strong fancy to the youngster, and was
seriously thinking of decorating his arms with chevrons when the order
for the advance and Stark's promotion came together. The
lieutenant-colonel, finding that his health could not stand the climate
and exposure, had resigned and gone home, and just the very morning
after the incident described in the last chapter a batch of new
commissions reached the New-Englanders. Stark became major, vice
Proctor, promoted lieutenant-colonel, and turned his company over to its
new captain, the former first lieutenant. Stark's first act, after
taking the oath and signing his acceptance, was to send for Lawton. The
regiment, with much glee and excitement, was packing knapsacks for the
move, and the lad came, pale and troubled.
"Are you ill, Lawton?" demanded Major Stark.
"No, sir. I just--got some bad news."
"Folks ill?"
"No, sir; it's something a sergeant in the Fire Zouaves told me."
"You don't wish to go home, do you?"
"I do, sir; but I won't. I'm going with the company."
"Lawton," said the major, after a moment's scrutiny of the lad's solemn
face, "you've never told me where you live and I've never asked. I
believed in you, and that's enough. The colonel has given me permission
to choose my orderly from my old company. I have bought Colonel Poague's
horses. The orderly will ride my spare horse and look after both. I want
you, if you care to take the place."
"Yes, sir; I do."
"It leaves you out of the race for vacancies among the corporals."
"No matter, sir. That'll come when we reorganize for three years."
And so Snipe turned his long musket and heavy cartridge-box over to the
first sergeant, dumped his knapsack and blanket into the field-officer's
wagon, and straddled the major's spare horse. At any other time he might
have felt the sense of exaltation that is inevitable to the boy or man
who knows how to ride, but the young soldier's spirits were dashed and
drooping. There was no time for brooding, however. The New-Englanders
were on the march for Manassas. The dusty roads were thronged with
troops, trudging buoyantly ahead, confident in the strength of their
numbers and counting upon a conqueror's entrance into Richmond within
ten days. Somewhere about noon, midway between Fairfax and Centreville,
the "route march" was suddenly changed to silence and to cadence step. A
staff-officer had accosted the colonel. The commands "halt" and "front"
brought them into line facing the left; then the regiment was dressed
back to the right until it stood aligned at the roadside, and Snipe
found himself seated in saddle just to the left rear of his major, who
had reined up at the left of the line. Looking back along the
dust-covered route, the lad could see that the regiments following them
in column were also halting and "fronting," as soon as closed to proper
distance, and then, with ordered arms, standing at ease and wondering
what was coming. Presently, far back towards Fairfax, there uprose a
cheer that was taken up along the line, and Lawton and his major,
craning their necks, could see a body of horsemen coming through the
slowly settling dust-clouds, following the lead of a soldierly-looking
man on a big gray. A band struck up "Hail Columbia;" the regiment
directly to their left began to take up the shout of acclaim, beginning
away down at the tenth company, and the handsome horseman raised his
forage-cap and spurred rapidly on. Again he raised it as he passed the
colors, and the shout of greeting rolled into the right wing; and now
the New England lads could see the yellow sash and the gold-embroidered
belt, and knew a general officer was coming, and they, too, prepared to
relieve their dusty lungs and overflowing spirits with a cheer. But all
on a sudden the old colonel's shrill voice was heard, "Attentio-o-on
battalion!" and talk and laughter ceased. "Shoulder-r-r _homps_!" and
every musket jumped from the ground. "Prese-e-e-nt _homps_!" and nine
hundred glistening barrels bounced out in front of nine hundred martial
noses. The silken colors, State and National, drooped forward in homage
to the coming dignitary. The major sat bolt upright and looking straight
over his horse's ears, his sword lowered to the salute, and Snipe's hand
went up to the visor of his grimy cap, and the major-general smiled
affably as he came trotting by, his horse shying sidewise with eyes and
ears attent, and the grizzled colonel got a word of soldierly praise
from the cap-tipping commander as he sped swiftly on, the staff trying
hard to look dignified and keep their seats and distance at the same
time, which several of them, being new to the business, found it hard to
do. Behind them jogged a troop of regular cavalry,--the general's
escort,--veterans who had spent years in saddle and showed it; and then
with gratified pride that he and his regiment had given proper and
soldierly recognition to the chief, "instead of yelling like a
town-meeting," said the colonel, that veteran of the Mexican war days
permitted his men once more to "order" and rest and await developments.
They were not long in coming. Away down to the left, over the shouts and
greetings of other commands, could be heard the characteristic "Hi! hi!
hi!" of the Fire Zouaves, and presently in long column of pieces,
cannoneers mounted, two business-like batteries of the regulars came
clinking along, their powerful, mettlesome horses moving like so much
perfect machinery at steady walk, their drivers responding to the chaff
and cheers and comments of the militia and volunteers by occasional
droll wink or thrust of tongue into the nearest cheek, their nimble gun
detachments grinning exuberantly, but rarely uttering a word. And then
at last, when even their baggage-wagons had trundled by, a band was
heard along the thoroughfare behind them, and through the dust came
stalking a superb drum-major, his baton swinging in one hand, his huge
bear-skin shako dangling from the other arm; and then the halted column
coughed and sneezed as a strong regiment of infantry marched silently by
in column of fours, determined, evidently, to impress upon the rest of
the division their martial appearance and discipline. And then, in vivid
contrast, right behind them, came the loose gray jackets and trousers,
the red shirts and faces of the Fire Zouaves, grinning, chaffing, "hi,
hiing" every foot of the way, and Major Stark turned and signalled to
his orderly, and the lad rode up alongside.
"These are your old friends, I take it, Lawton. Sit here where you can
see them."
The colors went sweeping by, flaunting in the sunshine despite the
besmirching dust, and the seventh company came swinging along, and all
of a sudden a wiry-looking sergeant file-closer glanced up and shouted,
"Hullo, Snipey! How are _you_?" after the Bowery fashion of the day.
"Hullo, Snipey!" came the greeting from half a dozen brawny throats.
"Say, sonny, did you git square with that Metamora gang before you come
away?" "Hullo, Snipe! Where's Shorty all dis time?" "Say, boy, what
deestrick d'you run to now?" And before anybody could say a word to
prevent it, half a dozen laughing, rollicking fellows sprang from the
ranks and were crowding about Lawton as he sat blushing, half pleased,
half ashamed, and shaking the lad by the hand. "Come over and see us
when we git to camp," they cried in chorus, as, clamping their heavy
sword-bayonets to their sides with the left hand, and trailing the brown
barrels of their "special" rifles, they hurried on to catch their
company. It was all over in a minute, but the New-Englanders looked
curiously at the major's orderly, and that quiet-mannered, taciturn
officer finally turned, with something like a smile.
"One would hardly say those fellows could have brought you ill news,
Lawton. They seem like old friends."
"I knew them well when at school in New York, sir."
"Who is Shorty?"
"He was my chum, sir. I thought he'd be here long ago. He was a drummer
in the Seventy-first New York. His relatives wouldn't let him come, I
suppose."
"Would yours, do you think,--if they knew?"
"No, sir. But my father's been dead a long time. My mother married
again, and--I've been shifting for myself of late."
"I understand," said the major, inclining his head; "but does your
mother know now?"
"I write to her every month, sir. She knows I'm with the army. They
would get me out if they knew where to find me, but I should enlist in
another regiment under another name, so what would be the use?"
And then once more came the command attention. Again the dusty march was
resumed. Again the column alternately tramped and halted. Other generals
and staff-officers rode to and fro, and were curiously inspected by the
rank and file. Again the New-Englanders were led off into an open field
some distance from the pike, and, late in the afternoon, stacked arms
and unslung knapsacks in a skirt of woods. Pots, kettles, and canteens
were filled from the cisterns and wells of the neighboring farm-house,
whose inmates looked on in silent disapproval, and just as the sun was
sinking toward a distant line of heights some twenty miles away to the
west, that a school-master in the color company said were called the
Bull Run Mountains, somebody held up a warning hand and said "Listen!"
There was a throb and pulsation in the heavy, heated, breathless air. A
dull booming sound at irregular intervals came floating from the distant
front. Men sprang to their feet from under the trees and listened
eagerly, their faces paling a little; some lips uncontrollably
twitching. It was the first note of the grand overture so soon to burst
in the magnificence of its volume on their unaccustomed ears. Somewhere
out toward that winding fringe of timber in the low ground five miles
away to the south a field battery had sighted the enemy in sufficient
force to warrant unlimbering and letting drive. The hostile armies were
within striking distance.
For a moment the men from the land of the Puritan listened in awed
silence. There had been a sharp encounter down that way two days before
between the leading division and a concealed enemy, and rumor had it
that many were killed and wounded, but the ambulances had been sent
another way, and this brigade saw none of them. Over toward the roofs of
Centreville a Western regiment sent up a cheer. Somewhere through the
woods, down toward the right, the uproarious "Hi, hi" of the Zouaves,
like the yelp of a pack of prairie wolves, rose swift from wing to wing,
and in the midst of the distant clamor the major's quiet voice fell on
Snipe's listening ears, and the lad started, gulped down some strange
feeling as of faintness and nausea that had stolen over him, and pulled
himself together.
"The horses? Yes, sir, they'll be through feeding in ten minutes."
"Very well. I'm to go forward with four companies at dusk. You needn't,
if you wish to write--or anything."
But when the major led that silent detachment into the winding
bridle-path through the trees, following the lead of a young
staff-officer who rode jauntily ahead, Snipe Lawton followed close at
his commander's heels.