THE CAPTURE OF GALLATIN.
Morgan’s command had not been encamped at Livingston more than two or
three days when, to every one’s astonishment, a couple of soldiers
belonging to Captain Mathews’s company came riding into camp, one on Fred
Shackelford’s famous horse, Prince, and the other on a well-known horse of
Colonel Shackelford’s, called Blenheim.
Calhoun, hearing the cheering and laughter which greeted the soldiers as
they galloped in waving their hats and shouting, ran out of his quarters
to see what was occasioning the excitement. He could hardly believe his
eyes when he saw the well-known horse of Fred. Then his heart gave a great
jump, for the thought came to him that his cousin had been waylaid and
killed. But if so, how did the soldiers come to have Blenheim too? To his
relief he soon learned the truth of the story, how from Crab Orchard
Captain Mathews had sent back two of his company to capture Prince, and
they had returned not only with Prince, but with Blenheim. Mathews was in
high spirits as he appropriated Prince. Jumping on his back he galloped
him through camp, showing off his fine points, and declaring he could
outrun any horse in the brigade. A match was soon arranged, but Prince so
easily outstripped every competitor that soon no officer was found who had
the hardihood to enter his horse in the lists against him.
Blenheim was awarded to Conway, much to his satisfaction. He could not
forego the opportunity of crowing over Calhoun, thinking he would be vexed
over the capture of his cousin’s horse.
“Why do you come blowing around me?” asked Calhoun, nettled by his manner,
“I am neither the keeper of my cousin nor the keeper of his horse.”
“Oh, you were so careful of his precious person when I took him prisoner,
I did not know but your carefulness might extend to his horse,” replied
Conway, with a sneer.
Calhoun felt his blood boil, but controlling himself, he replied: “You did
not take Captain Shackelford, and I am surprised that you should make such
a statement. You forget that I was there before you.”
“You would have let the fellow go,” snapped Conway.
“Just as Colonel Morgan did, on his parole,” answered Calhoun.
“It was your fault that he slipped through my fingers,” exclaimed Conway,
angrily, “but my time will come. I have swore to see him hanged before
this war is over, and I shall.”
“Catch your rabbit before you skin him, Captain,” replied Calhoun, with
provoking coolness; and the laugh was on Conway, who turned away with a
muttered oath.
Conway had entertained a secret dislike to Calhoun ever since their first
meeting, partly because he had been chosen by Morgan, instead of Conway
himself, to go back to Kentucky, and partly on account of his being Fred’s
cousin. But after the affair at Colonel Shackelford’s house, he took
little pains to conceal his dislike. Many of the officers of the brigade
noticed this, and predicted that sooner or later there would be trouble
between the two.
But Calhoun was not through with being bantered over the capture of
Prince. Captain Mathews came riding up and with a flourish said: “Ah!
Lieutenant, I reckon you have seen this hoss before; what do you think of
him?” Now, Mathews was a rough, rollicking fellow, and quite a favorite in
the command. He and Calhoun were good friends, and so Calhoun answered
pleasantly: “He is the best horse in Kentucky. I know it, for I was once
beaten by him in a race. But,” continued Calhoun, with a laugh, “my advice
is to guard him very carefully, or Captain Shackelford will get him back,
sure. That horse has more tricks than you dream of.”
“I am not worrying,” replied Mathews. “One of your scouts has just had to
fork over five dollars to one of my men, on a bet they made at Crab
Orchard that I could not get the hoss. Perhaps you would like to bet I
can’t keep him?”
“Yes, I will go you twenty-five that Captain Shackelford will have his
horse back in less than two months,” answered Calhoun, dryly.
“Done!” exclaimed the Captain, gleefully, and the stakes were placed in
the hands of Captain Huffman. The bet afforded much amusement to the
officers, but all of them looked upon it as a very foolish bet on the part
of Calhoun.
“That twenty-five is gone,” said Huffman to Calhoun, as he pocketed the
stakes, “but I am sure of having fifty dollars for at least two months.”
“I reckon I shall lose,” said Calhoun, “but Mathews had better not let
Shackelford get sight of his horse.”
“Why?” asked a dozen voices in concert.
“Because that horse is up to more antics than a trick horse in a circus.
You will see, if we ever run across my cousin in our raids.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said one of the officers, “but your cousin
will have a fine time getting that horse away from Jim Mathews.”
“Wait and see,” was Calhoun’s answer.
It was not many days before they knew what Calhoun meant. A few days
sufficed to rest Morgan’s command, and it was not the nature of Morgan to
remain long idle. He had to be doing something. It was known that the
Confederate armies were about ready to make the long-talked-of forward
movement into Kentucky. In fact, General Kirby Smith had already set out
from Knoxville to invade Eastern Kentucky, and General Bragg was nearly
ready to take the initiative from Chattanooga.
The Federal army in Tennessee was scattered, and owing to the raids of
Morgan and Forrest, the men were on short rations. General Buell was at
his wits’ end. He knew that General Bragg was preparing to advance, but
thought he would not attempt the invasion of Kentucky before attacking
him. He therefore looked for a great battle somewhere in Middle Tennessee,
and concentrated his forces for that event.
Before Bragg moved, Morgan decided to strike another blow at the
Louisville and Nashville Railroad, and this time right under the noses of
the Federal army. Gallatin is only twenty-six miles from Nashville, and
Morgan decided to attempt its capture. In order to spy out the land,
Calhoun entered the place as a country lad. He found that it was
garrisoned by a Federal force of about four hundred, under the command of
Colonel Boone. The discipline was lax. In the daytime no pickets were out,
and Calhoun found no difficulty in entering the place. He made himself
known to a few of the citizens, and they gave him all the information
possible. To them the coming of Morgan meant deliverance from a hateful
foe.
It did not take Calhoun long to find out the station of every picket at
night. The camp of the Federals was on the fair-ground, half a mile from
the city. Colonel Boone was accustomed to sleep at a hotel in the city; in
fact, his wife was sick at the hotel. Colonel Boone knew that Morgan was
near, and was fearful of an attack. He telegraphed both to Nashville and
to General Buell at MacMinnville for reinforcements, but no attention was
paid to his demand. Instead, he was ordered to send nearly half of his
force away to intercept a drove of beef cattle which it was reported the
Confederates were driving down from Kentucky.
That the citizens might not know that his numbers were depleted, Colonel
Boone did not send this force away until midnight, thinking no one would
see them depart. But sharp eyes were watching. Nothing was going on in
Gallatin without Calhoun’s knowledge. He lost no time in reporting to
Morgan, and the attack came swiftly.
Knowing the location of every picket post, Calhoun was able to effect
their capture without the firing of a gun, and Morgan rode into Gallatin
without the knowledge of the Federal force, which was only half a mile
away. Colonel Boone was captured at the hotel. The first intimation he had
that Morgan was in the city was when he was commanded by Calhoun to
surrender. A demand was now made on the camp that it should surrender,
which it did. Thus without firing a gun Gallatin, with the entire Federal
garrison and all the military stores which it contained, was captured.
Losing no time, Morgan ordered the companies of Captain Mathews and
Captain Conway, together with Calhoun’s scouts, to take the stockade which
guarded the tunnel six miles north of town. The attack was successful, the
stockade surrendering after a slight resistance. The tunnel was now in the
possession of the Confederates.
A long train of cars which had been captured was piled with wood, rails,
and other combustibles, set on fire, and run into the tunnel. The sides
and roof of the tunnel were supported by heavy woodwork, and the whole
tunnel was soon a roaring mass of flame. The wood being burned away the
tunnel caved in, and it was months before a train ran through from
Louisville to Nashville. Morgan had effectually blocked the road. Highly
elated with their success, the command returned to Gallatin, Mathews and
Conway riding at the head of the column. To Calhoun was committed the care
of the prisoners, and he brought up the rear.
When about half-way to Gallatin, Calhoun heard the report of a single
pistol shot in front, then a rapid succession of rifle shots. The head of
the column seemed to be thrown into confusion, and the whole command came
to a halt.
Fearful that an attack had been made by a Federal force coming from
Nashville, Calhoun gave orders to shoot down the first prisoner who
attempted to escape, and prepared to resist any attack that might come.
But no more firing was heard, and the column began to move again. Soon an
officer came riding back and told Calhoun a story that interested him
greatly.
Mathews and Conway were riding at the head of the column, when, as it
reached a cross-road, a peculiar sharp whistle suddenly pierced the air.
Mathews’s horse gave a prodigious bound, unseated his rider, and dashed up
the cross-road. Conway’s horse bolted, and in spite of Conway’s efforts,
followed.
A boy sprang out of the bushes into the road, and Mathews’s horse stopped
by his side. He fired at Conway, hitting him in the shoulder. To save
himself from being shot again, Conway flung himself from his horse. The
boy sprang onto Mathews’s horse and rode away at full speed, followed by
the other horse. An ineffectual volley was fired at the boy. Captain
Mathews’s arm was broken by the fall.
[Illustration: HE FIRED AT CONWAY.]
“So Captain Mathews has lost his horse?” asked Calhoun, with a faint
smile.
“Yes, he will quit blowing now.”
“And I have won twenty-five dollars; but I am sorry Mathews had his arm
broken.”
When Calhoun reached Gallatin, Captain Conway had had his wound dressed,
and Mathews’s arm was in splints. Conway was in a towering passion. He
blamed Calhoun for his ill-luck, saying if it had not been for him, Fred
Shackelford would have been hanged as a spy. From this time he did not try
to conceal his hatred of Calhoun.
Captain Mathews took his misfortune more philosophically. “It was a blamed
sharp trick on the part of young Shackelford!” he exclaimed. Then turning
to Captain Huffman, he said: “Give that money to Lieutenant Pennington; he
has won it. But I give you all fair warning I shall get that hoss back. My
reputation depends upon it. Then to think that I, who prided myself on
being one of the best hossmen in Morgan’s troop, should be thrown. Bah! it
makes me sick,” and his face took on a look of disgust.
“I warned you,” said Calhoun, “that that horse was up to tricks. When Fred
gives that whistle he will unhorse any rider who is on his back. I have
seen Fred try it time and time again with his father’s nigger boys as
riders, and Prince never failed of unhorsing them. When Fred gave that
whistle his horse would have gone to him, or died in the attempt.”
“I am sorry you didn’t let Conway hang him,” replied Mathews, gently
rubbing his broken arm, “but I will get even with him, see if I don’t. I
want that hoss worse than ever.”
A few days after the capture of Gallatin, a Federal force moved up from
Nashville, reoccupied the city, committed many depredations, and began
arresting the citizens right and left, accusing them of complicity with
Morgan. When Morgan heard of this he at once moved to the relief of the
distressed city. Attacking the rear guard of the enemy as it was leaving
the place, he not only defeated them, but drove them to within seven miles
of Nashville, capturing the force at Pilot Knob, and burning the high
railroad trestle at that place. He also captured a train of cars and
liberated forty of the citizens of Gallatin who were being taken to
Nashville as prisoners. They had been used with the greatest cruelty by
their captors.
In this raid Morgan captured nearly two hundred prisoners. Notwithstanding
the provocation was great, considering the way the citizens of Gallatin
had been used, Morgan treated his prisoners kindly and paroled them.
The Federal authorities, now being thoroughly alarmed, resolved to crush
Morgan. To this end a brigade of cavalry was organized at MacMinnville,
placed under the command of General R. W. Johnson, and sent against him.
Johnson thought that Morgan was at Hartsville, and marched against that
place. But when he reached Hartsville and learned that Morgan was at
Gallatin, he at once marched to attack him there, confident of easy
victory.
Up to this time the Federals had boasted that Morgan would not fight
anything like an equal force; that he always attacked isolated posts with
overwhelming numbers. They were now to learn something different. Morgan
had been kept well posted by Calhoun and his scouts with regard to every
movement of Johnson. Although he knew that he was greatly outnumbered,
Morgan resolved to give battle and teach the boasting Yankees a lesson.
Early on the morning of August 21 Calhoun came galloping into Gallatin
with the information that Johnson was close at hand. To avoid fighting a
battle in the city Morgan moved out on the Hartsville pike, meeting the
enemy about two miles from Gallatin. The engagement opened at once with
fury. Up to that time it was the greatest engagement fought in the West in
which cavalry only was engaged.
For a time the Federals fought bravely, and for an hour the issue of the
battle was doubtful; then a charge stampeded a portion of the Federal
forces. Thoroughly panic-stricken they threw away guns, accoutrements,
everything that impeded their progress, thinking only of safety in flight.
Plunging into the Cumberland River, they forded it and did not stop
running until they reached Nashville.
The remaining Federal force under General Johnson retreated about two
miles, and then made a brave stand. But nothing could withstand the fury
of Colonel Basil Duke’s attack, whose command had the advance. General
Johnson and many of his men were taken prisoners, and the remainder were
scattered.
In this engagement the Federals lost two hundred men, killed, wounded, and
missing. Their general himself was a prisoner. Thus, to their cost, they
found that when the occasion demanded it Morgan would fight. Morgan’s loss
in the battle was only five killed and twenty wounded; but among the
latter was the brave Captain Huffman, who had an arm shattered.
Colonel Basil Duke, in this fight, won the highest praise from Morgan for
the masterly manner in which he handled his regiment. It was greatly owing
to the efforts of Colonel Duke that the victory was won.
In this battle Calhoun bore a conspicuous part. Single-handed he engaged a
Federal officer who was trying to rally his men, and forced him to
surrender. When he delivered up his sword Calhoun saw to his surprise that
it was his old acquaintance, Lieutenant Haines.
“Ah, Lieutenant,” said Calhoun, “I am glad to have met you again. When the
battle is over I will come and see you.”
“Pennington again, as I am alive!” gasped the astonished Lieutenant.
After all was over Calhoun sought him out, and found him sitting dejected
and crestfallen among the prisoners.
“Cheer up, Lieutenant,” said Calhoun, pleasantly; “we are going to parole
you. You will soon be at liberty.”
“How often do you want to parole a fellow? This will be the third time,”
growled Haines. “Curse the luck. I thought we would wipe you off the face
of the earth sure this time. We would, too, if it hadn’t been for that
cowardly regiment which broke.”
“An ‘if’ has stood in between many a man and success,” answered Calhoun.
“How long ago were you exchanged?”
“About two months,” replied Haines, “and here I am in for it again. I
expected to win a captaincy to-day. If this is the way it goes, I shall
die a lieutenant.”
“Oh, you may wear the star of a general yet, who knows? To change the
subject, have you met the charming Miss Osborne since your return to the
army?”
A change came over the face of Haines—one that transformed his rather
handsome features into those of a malignant spirit. Calhoun saw it and
wondered. The Lieutenant quickly recovered himself, and answered:
“Yes, but trouble has come upon the family. Mr. Osborne refused to take
the oath of allegiance, and as he was looked upon as a dangerous
character, he has been sent North as a prisoner.”
“To wear his life away in some Northern bastile!” exclaimed Calhoun, in a
fury. “Monstrous!”
“That is not all,” returned Haines. “By some means the house took fire and
burned with all its contents. I did all I could for them—tried to save Mr.
Osborne, but could not; but I will not relax my efforts to have him
released. I have some powerful friends in the North.”
Calhoun thanked him, and went his way. But that look which came over
Haines’s face, what did it mean? It was months before Calhoun knew.