HAND TO HAND
I have never been willing to believe I slept during the next hour.
Wearied as I have often been, duty has ever held my eyes wide open, and
I prefer to think I merely plunged so deep in reflection as to become
oblivious of all occurring about me. Surely I had sufficient excuse.
However this may be, when I once again aroused to observe my
surroundings, the faint gray light of early dawn rested upon the outside
world, and through the fleeting shadows of the mist I was able to
distinguish much which before had been shrouded by the black curtain.
In front of the window where I rested, the grass-covered lawn sloped
gradually downward until it terminated at a low picket fence, thickly
covered with vines. A great variety of shrubs, which during the night
had doubtless afforded shelter for sharpshooters, dotted this grass
plot, while beyond the fence boundary stood a double row of large trees.
To the far left of our position the burnt stable yet smouldered dully,
occasionally sending up a shower of sparks as a draught of air fanned
the embers, but there were few signs of life visible. For the moment I
even hoped our enemies might have grown discouraged and withdrawn.
“What has become of the guerillas?” I asked in wonderment, turning as I
spoke to face the Federal corporal who lay on the other side of me. “Is
it possible they have given up?”
“I think not, Captain,” he replied respectfully, saluting as he would
one of his own officers. “They were there just before the light came,
and I saw a dozen or more stealing along behind the fence not five
minutes ago. See, there is a squad of them now, huddled together back of
where the stable stood.”
I noticed them as he spoke, and their movements instantly aroused my
suspicion.
“Screw your eye close to the corner of the pane,” I ordered hurriedly,
“and see what you make out toward the front of the house.”
He did as directed, and for a moment continued to gaze silently into the
gray dawn.
“Well?” I asked impatiently.
“There's men out there sure, plenty of 'em,” he reported slowly. “It
looks to me mighty like the end of a line of battle, right there by that
big magnolia-tree. Anyhow, there must be all of twenty fellows lying
close together between there and where the corner of the house shuts off
my view. I don't see none this side anywhere, unless it's a shooter or
two hiding along the fence where the vines are thick.”
“That's it, my lad,” I exclaimed heartily, getting upon my feet as I
spoke. “We can stand up now, there's no danger here, but there will be
music for all of us presently. Those fellows are getting ready to charge
us front and rear.”
There were five in the room. I could see them only indistinctly, as the
morning light was not yet sufficiently strong to penetrate clearly to
where we were, but I was able to note those present--the corporal and
his wounded companion, with Hollis and Call of my troop.
“Let the wounded man remain and guard these windows,” I commanded. “He
would prove of small value in a hand to hand struggle, but can probably
do some shooting. The rest come with me.”
I led them forth into the wide hallway, which extended the full length
of the house, with a broad flight of stairs just forward of the centre,
gradually curving and leading to the second story.
I was fully determined as to my duty--whether orders reached me or
not, the moment an assault was launched I should throw all the force I
commanded beside Brennan, and between our assailants and the imperilled
women. The suspended light was yet burning as we came out, but flickered
wildly as if in a strong draught of air, and I noticed that the constant
rain of bullets during the night had badly splintered an upper panel of
the door. Halfway down the broad hallway, and partially obscured by
the turn of the stairs, a door stood slightly ajar upon the right hand.
Conjecturing this might be where the defenders of the eastern exposure
were lying, I peered within. The blinds were tightly drawn and I was
able to perceive little of its interior, excepting that the walls were
lined with books.
“Ebers,” I called, thinking he must be there, “are you in charge here?”
“I vos, Captain,” came the instant reply, and he at once emerged from
the darkness, his honest face full of interest. “Is it der preakfast vot
is already?”
“Hardly, my man. I imagine we may enjoy a fight first, to give us better
appetites.”
“Mein Gott, but I am vurnished mit der abbetite already. I vould fight
mit more fun if I vos full.”
“So no doubt would all of us; but I have no time for mere talk. Did you
meet with any trouble during the night?”
“Troubles? By Chiminy, yes, Captain, I vos hongry for six hour. I have
took der belt oop dree time already, an' I vos empty yet. Troubles?
Donnerwetter, it is all troubles.”
“Not that,” sternly. “I mean, have the enemy kept you busy?”
“Der vos some shooting, und Hadley he got hurt bad, but der fellers is
all gone. Dis is der right time to eat in der bantry, ain't it?”
“Bring your men fit for duty out here in the hall, and have them join my
party,” I said, ignoring his pathetic appeal. “How many have you?”
“Der is four, und, Captain, dey vos most as veak as I am mit netting to
eat.”
Seeing I was not to be moved by thought of their pitiable condition,
he drew back with a profound sigh, and as he disappeared some one came
hastily toward us along the hallway from the rear.
“What is it, Caton?” I asked anxiously, as I recognized him.
“They are forming to rush me, I think,” he answered. “I need a few more
men if I can get them.”
“They are preparing to assault front and rear at the same time,” I
answered. “They are massing now, and in my judgment Brennan will have
to face the brunt of it. The front of this house is greatly exposed, and
will prove extremely difficult to defend if they come against it with
any force. How many men do you absolutely require in order to hold your
position? Remember, the women are all in the front part of the house,
and we must protect them at all hazards.”
“Good God, Wayne! Do you think I am likely to forget, with Celia Minor
among them?” he exclaimed indignantly. “Nothing but a strict sense of
duty holds me one moment where I am. Heaven knows I wish to be with her,
and, by thunder, Brennan is aware of it.”
“Then come with me,” I cried. “There are times when a higher law than
that of military despotism should control our actions. I am going there,
orders or no orders. Ebers can command your detachment and accomplish
all the service you possibly could. Your rightful place is between
these ruffians and the woman you love. How many additional men will be
required to make the back of the house secure?”
His face brightened as I was speaking, and the haggard look vanished
from his eyes.
“I feel like a new man, Wayne,” he said thankfully, “and I know you are
right. Four more would be sufficient, besides the one in command. The
wainscoting is high and of solid oak, the windows are small, there is no
porch, while the guns have a perfectly clear range for nearly a hundred
yards.”
“Good! Ebers,” I said, as my portly Sergeant again emerged from out the
darkness, “take your four men back to the kitchen and assume command.
The guerillas are preparing to make a rush there, and you must drive
them back by rapid fire. Hurry along now.”
“By Chiminy, but I vos glad to git in der kitchen, anyhow. Is der
anyting cold to put in der stomach in dot bantry?” he asked anxiously.
“You will have something exceedingly hot in your stomach unless you move
more lively,” I said sternly.
The little group had barely vanished beyond the glow of the light when
from without our ears were suddenly assailed by a wild, exulting yell
that bespoke the charge.
“There they are!” I cried. “Now, lads, come with me!”
The dull, gray, chilling dawn revealed a room in utmost disorder, the
windows shattered, the blinds cut and splintered, the walls scarred with
bullets and disfigured with stains of blood, the furniture overturned
and broken. A dead soldier in gray uniform lay in the centre of the
floor, his life-blood a dark stain upon the rich carpet; a man with coat
off, and blue shirt ripped wide open, was leaning against the further
wall vainly endeavoring to stanch a wound in his chest. Brennan was upon
one knee near the central window, a smoking gun in his hand, a red welt
showing ghastly across his cheek. All this I saw in a single glance, and
then, with the leap of a panther, I was beside him, gazing out into the
morning mist, and firing as fast as I could handle my gun.
Through the shifting smoke clouds we could see them advancing on
a run,--an ugly, motley line, part blue, part gray, part
everything,--yelling as they swept forward like a pack of infuriated
wolves, their fierce faces scowling savagely behind the rifles. It was
half war, half riot--the reckless onslaught of outcasts bent on plunder,
inspired by lust, yet guided by rude discipline.
I knew little of detail; faces were blurred, unrecognizable; all I
seemed to note clearly was that solid, brutal, heartless, blaspheming
line of desperate men sweeping toward us with a relentless fury our puny
bullets could not check. Reckless ferocity was in that mad rush; they
pressed on more like demons than human beings. I saw men fall; I saw the
living stumble over the dead. I heard cries of agony, shouts, curses,
but there was no pause. I could mark their faces now, cruel, angry,
revengeful; the hands that grasped the veranda railings; the leaping
bodies; the rifle-butts uplifted to batter down our frail defences.
As trapped tigers we fought, hurling them back from the windows,
slashing, clubbing, striking with fist and steel. Two lay dead across
the sill before me, cloven to the very chin, but their bleeding bodies
were hurled remorselessly aside, while others clambered forward, mad
from lust of blood, crazed with liquor. With clubbed guns we cleared it
again and again, battering mercilessly at every head that fronted us.
Then a great giant of a fellow--dead or alive I know not--was hurled
headlong through the opening, an inert, limp weight, that bore the two
soldiers beside me to the floor beneath his body. With wide sweep of my
gun I struck him, shattering the stock into fragments, and swung back to
meet the others, the hot barrel falling to right and left like a flail.
They were through and on me! Wild as any sea-rover of the north I
fought, crazed with blood, unconscious of injury, animated solely
by desire to strike and slay! Back I had to go; back--I trod on dead
bodies, on wounded shrieking in pain, yet no man who came within sweep
of that iron bar lived. I loved to hear the thud of it, and I fronted
those glaring eyes, my blood afire, my arms like steel. Through the red
mist I beheld Caton for an instant as twenty brutal hands uplifted, and
then hurled him into the ruck beneath their feet. Whether I fought alone
I knew not, cared not. Then some one pressed next to me, facing as I
did, wielding a sword like a madman. We had our backs against the
piano, our shoulders touched; before us that mob swayed, checked for
the moment, held fast by sudden overpowering dread. I glanced aside. My
companion was Brennan, hatless, his deep-set eyes aflame, his coat torn
off, his shirt ripped open to the waist, his bare breast red with blood.
“No shootin', damn ye!” shouted a voice, hoarsely. “No shootin'; I want
that Reb alive!”
Through the swirling smoke I recognized the malicious face of Red
Lowrie as he pushed his way to the front. To me it was like a personal
challenge to combat.
“Rush them!” I muttered into Brennan's ear. “Hurl them back a bit, and
then dodge under into the next room.”
I never waited to ascertain if he heard me. With one fierce spring I
struck their stunned line, and my iron bar swept a clear space as it
crashed remorselessly into them. The next instant Lowrie and I were
seemingly alone and fronting each other. A wild cat enraged by pain
looks as he did when he leaped to meet me. Hate, deadly, relentless,
glared in his eyes, and with a yell of exultation he swung up his
long rifle and struck savagely at my head with the stock. I caught
it partially on my barrel, breaking its full force, and even as it
descended upon my shoulder, jabbed the muzzle hard into his leering
face. With a snarl of pain he dropped his gun and grappled with me, but
as his fingers closed about my throat, something swirled down through
the maze, and the maddened brute staggered back, his arms uplifted, his
red beard cloven in twain.
“Now for it, Wayne!” shouted Brennan. “Back with you!”
With a dive I went under the piano. I heard the sliding doors shut
behind us, and almost with the sound was again upon my feet.
“To the stairs!” I panted. “Brennan, take the women to the stairs; those
fellows are not in the hallway yet, and we can hold them there a while.”
In our terrible need for haste, and amid the thick, swirling smoke
filling that inner room almost to suffocation, I grasped the woman
chancing to be nearest me, without knowing at the moment who she was.
Already the rifle-butts were splintering the light wood behind us into
staves, and I hastily dragged my dazed companion forward. The others
were in advance, and we groped our way like blind persons out into the
hall. By rare good fortune it was yet unoccupied, and as we took the
few hurried steps toward the foot of the stairs I found my arm was
encircling Celia Minor. The depth of despair within her dark eyes,
and the speechless anguish of her white face, swept for an instant the
fierce rage of battle from my brain.
“Do not fail us now, Miss Minor,” I urged kindly, “we may yet hold out
until help comes.”
“Oh, it is not that!” she cried pitifully. “But Arthur; where is
Arthur?”
“God knows,” I was compelled to answer. “I saw him fronting the
first rush when it struck us. I think he went down, yet he may not be
seriously hurt.”
She burst into tears, but I had no time to comfort her, for at that
moment the mob, discovering our direction of escape, jammed both
doorways and surged forth howling into the hall.
“Up!” I cried, forcing her forward. “Up with you; quick!”
I paused a scant second to pluck a sabre from beside a dead soldier on
the floor, and then with a spring up the intervening steps, faced about
at Brennan's side on the first landing.
“We ought to leave our mark on those incarnate devils here,” he said
grimly, wiping his red blade on the carpet.
“Unless they reach the second story from without, and take us in the
rear,” I answered, “we ought to hold back the whole cowardly crew, so
long as they refuse to fire.”
It was a scene to abide long with a man--a horrible nightmare, never to
be forgotten. Above us, protected somewhat by the abrupt curve of the
wide staircase, crouched the women. Two were sobbing, their heads
buried in their hands, but Maria and Mrs. Brennan sat white of face and
dry-eyed. I caught one quick glance at the fair face I loved,--my sweet
lady of the North,--thinking, indeed, it might prove the last on earth,
and knew her eyes were upon me. Then, stronger of heart than ever for
the coming struggle, I fronted that scene below.
Through the rising haze of smoke I looked down into angry faces, unkempt
beards, and brandished weapons. The baffled rascals poured out upon us
from both doors, crowding into the narrow space, cursing, threatening,
thirsting for revenge. Yet they were seemingly leaderless, and the
boldest among them paused at the foot of the stairs. They had already
felt our arms, had tested our steel, and knew well that grim death
awaited their advance.
But they could not pause there long--the ever increasing rush of those
behind pressed the earlier arrivals steadily forward. Grim necessity
furnished a courage naturally lacking, and suddenly, giving vent to a
fierce shout, they were hurled upward, seeking to crush us at whatever
sacrifice, by sheer force of numbers. We met them with the point, in the
good old Roman way, thrusting home remorselessly, fighting with silent
contempt for them which must have been maddening. I even heard Brennan
laugh, as he pierced a huge ruffian through the shoulder and hurled him
backward; but at that moment I saw Craig knock aside a levelled gun and
press his way to the front of the seething mass to assume control. His
face was inflamed, his eyes bloodshot; drink had changed him into a very
demon.
“Damn ye, Red told you not to fire!” he yelled. “Come on, you dogs! You
could eat 'em up if ye wasn't sich blamed cowards. There's only two, and
we'll hang them yet.”
He leaped straight up the broad steps, his long cavalry sabre in hand,
while a dozen of the boldest followed him. Brennan swung his sword
high over head, grasping it with both hands for a death-blow, even as
I thrust directly at the fellow's throat. The uplifted blade struck the
chain of the hanging lamp, snapped at the hilt, and losing his balance
the Major plunged headlong into the ruck beneath. The downward fall of
his body swept the stairs.
As I stood there, panting and breathless, a woman rushed downward.
Believing she would throw herself into that tangled mass below, I
instantly caught her to me.
“Don't,” I cried anxiously. “You cannot help him. For God's sake go back
where you were.”
“It is not that,” she exclaimed, her voice thrilling with excitement.
“Oh, Captain Wayne, do you not hear the bugles?”
As by magic those hateful faces vanished, disappearing by means of every
opening leading out from the hall, and when the cheering blue-coats
surged in through the broken door, I was yet standing there, apparently
alone but for the dead, leaning weak and breathless against the wall, my
arm about Edith Brennan.