The general was an indignant man when, late that afternoon, he heard the
details of Shorty's misadventures, but the general was just. He knew
that battles had been lost and kingdoms ruined because of orders hastily
or carelessly worded. He might have known, as he said to the staff when
discussing the incident, that if he "told that little bunch of springs
and impetuosity to stop for nothing and put him on a hard-mouthed horse
of similar temperament, the provost guard wouldn't have a picnic." The
general knew he could not ignore the authority of the provost-marshal,
but he might have known that Shorty would be little apt to stop for
sergeants, corporals, or privates when told to stop for nothing.
Only a day or two before several generals and their staffs had an
amusing illustration of Shorty's immense conception of his official
position. A big working party from _the_ brigade was chopping trees in
the woods a mile up the Potomac, and a big pleasure party from
Washington was visiting General "Baldy" Smith on the opposite bank. For
the entertainment and instruction of his guests this accomplished
officer had ordered out a light battery, and with much precision that
battery was driving shells into that very wood--and the axemen out.
Bearing fragments of iron in his hands, the indignant officer in charge
of the work galloped in to his general to say that his party had had to
run for their lives, and the work was at a stand. Shorty's horse stood
ready saddled, so the general bade the boy orderly carry the fragments,
with his compliments, to General Smith, and tell him the battery was
shelling his men, and Shorty and "Badger" went off like a shot. Over the
Chain Bridge they tore, to the amaze and disgust of certain sentries
long accustomed to halting everybody that didn't wear a star, and
straight up to the brilliant group at head-quarters they galloped, and
with scant apology and only hurried salute, the youngster panted his
message and exhibited his collaterals. The general listened with
unruffled calm, inspected a fragment or two with professional gravity
and interest, noted the fresh powder black on the fracture and concave
surface, passed them on to his visitors with some placid remark about
the force of the bursting charge, and, to Shorty's unspeakable wrath,
appeared to be in no wise impressed with the peril to which he had
subjected the men of a comrade brigade, and even less with the presence
of the bearer of the message. Shorty had counted on creating a
sensation, and he and "Badger" were the only ones to show the least
agitation. Bethinking himself of a supplementary remark of the officer
who brought in the news--and the fragments, the lad returned to the
attack. "One shell burst so close to Captain Wood's head it almost
stunned him, sir."
"Ah, did it?" queried the general, with provoking calm. "And was nobody
hurt?"
"Nobody was _hit_, sir," answered Shorty, with temper rising still
higher. "But a dozen might have been."
"Ah, well, ride back and tell the general I'm glad nobody was hurt," was
Baldy's imperturbable ultimatum, and the lad spurred back in a fury. Of
course the firing was stopped, and later the generals grinned affably
over the incident, but Shorty's self-esteem was ruffled, and he told the
senior aide, to that officer's infinite delight, that further messages
to General Smith would "better be carried by some other man on the
staff," and of course that story went the rounds of both brigades, much
to the merriment of many a camp-fire, but not altogether to Shorty's
detriment.
Now, if such was Shorty's conception of the gravity and importance of
his duties when bearing a verbal message from one brigadier to a junior,
what was not his immensity when a hastily written despatch, conveying
tidings of flood and disaster, was intrusted to him by the commander at
the front to be delivered to the general-in-chief in town. Shorty rode
like a demon that day, and even "Badger" was amazed, and that he, bearer
of despatches to head-quarters of the army and ordered to stop for
nothing, should have had to stop for bayonets and be lifted by the
collar into the presence of the officer of the guard,--that he should
find in the person of that officer the butt of the whole First
Latin,--that he should be ordered by that--thing--to the common cells
wherein were penned the drunkards and deserters, and led thither by the
ear, and an impudently grinning Paddy if he _was_ a sergeant, all this
was, in truth, too much for Shorty. No comfort Winthrop could offer
would soothe his wounded soul. He went back ablaze to brigade
head-quarters. The general was away up the Potomac, and didn't return
till late. Even then when Shorty tried to tell his tale his excitement
and wrath made him incoherent. The general was amazed to think that an
officer of regulars would hold his messenger after discovering that he
was actually the bearer of despatches. But Shorty's animated description
of that callow soldier, and by no means guarded references to his school
history, gave the general a clue. He fully intended, of course, to
follow the matter up, but other and more important issues came to claim
his time and attention.
That night at nine o'clock the general decided to make a personal
inspection along his front. Horses for himself and two aides were
ordered, and Marmion, the colored hostler, presently came round to the
big tent.
"Marse Prime's horse done gone stiff, sir," he said to the
adjutant-general, "and I reckon Marse Reggy don't feel much like night
ridin'. He's sleepin' da' on de hay."
The officer went and took a peep. Wrapped in his blanket, his head on
his arms, the youngster had curled up for a nap, worn out by the
excitement and emotions of the day. "Don't wake him," was the order, and
the three horsemen rode away.
It was a still, starlit night. The roads were yet heavy with mud. The
horses sank to their fetlocks and squashed noisily through the mire
until the little party were able to turn into the cart-tracks through
the thick woods, and, joined now by the field officer of the day, they
pushed on to the outposts. It was the dark of the moon. The blackness of
the groves and copses was intense. Objects, except on the open field or
against the sky, could hardly be distinguished five feet away. But every
now and then there would come the muffled challenge of sentries at inner
posts of the guard, and it was over half an hour before they reached the
outermost groups, with the line of night sentinels some distance ahead.
To every inquiry at every station of officer or sergeant, the answer was
the same, all quiet, all alert. There had been much shooting at patrols
and pickets for over a month, a practice both sides soon abandoned, but
at the time there was hazardous, nerve-trying duty at the front, and few
men welcomed it except for the excitement. Somewhere in the neighborhood
of ten o'clock, following in single file a winding wood track, a
sergeant leading afoot, the party approached the southern edge of a
strip of woods and halted while the corporal stepped ahead to assure the
sentinel. Then the general rode quietly up to question the man, the
sergeant assuming his watch the while, for even in presence of the
commander-in-chief there must be no cessation of vigilance.
To the queries as to where the nearest sentries were posted? what were
his own instructions? what he would do in certain emergencies? the
soldier answered promptly, perhaps a bit impatiently, even as though he
might have enjoyed the catechism at another time, but had some weightier
matter in hand at the moment. He kept turning and glancing out across
the open field to the south, stooping once or twice as though to peer at
something against the sky, and the general saw and questioned.
"Anything unusual about?"
"Why, yes, sir; at least I think so. The patrol that came by ten minutes
ago said that they had heard horses galloping out across the fields, and
I could have sworn I heard hoofs on this here bridle-path where it dips
into yon woods. By day nobody can come across here without our seeing
them. By night we can't see unless we lie flat and look up, and then
they could get within a rod or two."
The general bent over his horse's neck and listened. There was not wind
enough to rustle a leaf. The sky was almost cloudless; the fields in
front were open and silent; the dark, shadowy woods, beyond, merged in
the general gloom. Far off to the right front, over a mile away, a faint
light gleamed in some farm-house window. Far off to the left front, the
south, there was a dim, lurid tint upon the night that might have come
from dozens of watch-fires. Straight away in front the cart-track dove
into the darkness on its way across the field, and, over against them,
there was a dent or depression in the outlines of the fringe of timber,
as it stood against the southern stars, that told where the road entered
the opposite grove. It was there, right there, said the sentinel, he was
almost sure he had heard horses' feet, but nothing else, not another
sound.
"Did the patrol stop at your outpost?" the general asked the sergeant.
"No, sir. It went right along the line of sentries. I crawled out during
the afternoon and climbed a tree in the field to our right. You can see
it standing there, sir" (and, indeed, its outline was faintly visible
against the stars). "I could see some distance off to the south and
southwest. Lewinsville and the barns are in plain view, and some
scattered farm-houses."
"Did you see any troops?"
"No, sir, but some saw me, and the bullets came a-singing, and I had to
quit and crawfish back. But this path leads into a road half a mile or
so out there."
And while the sergeant spoke the soldier had resumed his watch, and
suddenly they heard him whisper, "Hist!"
"What do you see or hear?" murmured the sergeant, springing to his side.
"There is something out there, by thunder! coming this way. These
gentlemen had better get back a bit. I can't tell how many there may
be."
Somebody,--some party, possibly, stealing up to feel the pickets again,
and here were the general and staff-officers unescorted! What a plum for
Southern cavalry to pluck, did they but know! In breathless silence the
watchers waited. The general refused to retire. Not a sound could the
horsemen hear, but that sentry sprawled on the ground could not be
mistaken. Not an object moving was visible. Suddenly, though low and
cautious, they heard the click of a gun-lock. The sentry had brought his
rifle to the ready. Then, indeed, must there be something in the wind.
Ten seconds later, and low, firm, so as to be heard only a few paces
away, there came the order, "Halt!" A brief pause, then, with menace in
the tone, the challenge, "Who goes there?" For an instant no reply. Then
in tremulous voice came an answer in the field to the right of the road.
"It's only me, suh; Marse Finlay's Brennus, suh," and there can be no
doubting the Ethiopian accent.
"Who's with you, nigger? Who's back of you there?"
"Nobody, suh. I'se all alone, suh, but they's some gen'lemen way back,
suh. They done give me a letter."
"Come in here, Brennus. Let's see your letter," called the sergeant,
stepping warily forward, his gun, too, at the charge. And presently out
from under the stars steps a tall negro boy, lithe, active, and alert.
He is trembling a bit and uncertain of his whereabouts. He needs to know
something before he can impart anything, and presently it comes.
"Is you gen'lemen--Yankees?"
"Yankees from the general down," answers the sergeant. "Half a dozen
right here ready to hear your story." And the negro seems to recognize
alien accent in the Western twang of the speaker, and to take heart at
once.
"Dey done gimme a paper," he whispers, and the general interrupts.
"Bring him back to the reserve, where there's a fire. We'll examine him
there, sergeant." And, turning his horse, the general leads the way.
It is nearly eleven o'clock when, a little later, half a dozen officers
are grouped about the slender, tattered, weary negro, a lad barely
twenty years of age, if that. To the general he has handed a roll of
tin-foil, on which, as it is unfolded by the gleam of the camp-lanterns,
the word "Solace" is stamped, and the thin tissue-paper it encloses
bears some writing, over which the general strains his eyes and studies
eagerly; bends closer to the light and studies again. Then,
straightening up suddenly, he turns upon the young negro.
"Where'd you leave them? How far out?"
"'Bout two miles, suh; p'r'aps not dat much."
"Are you sure about the troops,--about the number? There are none
others?"
"Ye-as, suh. Dey ain't any udder companies near."
"And you can guide us right to the spot?"
"Ye-as, suh. Certain, suh."
The general turns sharply on his senior aide. "There's not a moment to
be lost. What a pity we have no cavalry! Ride straight to Colonel
Connor. Tell him to rouse his regiment instantly and without a sound.
Leave knapsacks and blankets in camp. Guide them here as quick as you
can. Now, captain, this boy must have a rousing supper. He deserves it."