No pursuit was made at the time, and the Federals, finding that they
were not harried, proceeded in a leisurely way toward the river. We
followed slowly and at night went into camp, the men and horses getting
a good rest. Scouts were coming in to make reports at all hours of the
night, so that it was practically true, as one of the old campaigners
remarked, that a horse couldn't whicker in the enemy's camp "but what
the General 'd hear it sooner or later."
Early the next morning we were on the road, and I had time for
reflecting that, after all, war was not a matter of flags and music.
The General was very considerate, however--a fact that was due to a
letter that General Maury had intrusted to Harry Herndon's care. We
were permitted to ride as temporary additions to General Forrest's
escort, and he seemed to single us out from among the rest with various
little courtesies, which I imagined was something unusual.
He was somewhat inquisitive about Whistling Jim, Harry's body-servant,
who he thought was a little too free and easy with white men. But he
seemed satisfied when Harry told him that the negro's forebears for
many generations back had belonged to the Herndons. We halted for a
light dinner, and when we had finished General Forrest made a careful
inspection of his men as they filed into the road.
We had gone but a few miles when we came to a point where the roads
forked. On one he sent a regiment, with Freeman's battery, with
instructions to reach the river ahead of the Federals and hold the ford
at all hazards until the main body could come up. This done, we swung
into the road that had been taken by the Federals and went forward at a
somewhat brisker pace.
"I'm going to give your nigger the chance of his life," remarked
General Forrest somewhat grimly, "and he'll either fling up his hands
and go to the Yankees, or he'll take to the woods."
"He may do one or the other," replied Harry; "but if he does either
I'll be very much surprised." General Forrest laughed; he was evidently
very sure that a negro would never stand up before gun-fire. A scout
came up to report that the Federals were moving much more rapidly than
they had moved in the morning.
"I reckon he's got wind of the column on the other road," the General
commented. "I allowed he'd hear of it. He's a mighty smart man, and
he's got as good men as can be found--Western fellows. If he had known
the number of my men in the woods back yander he'd 'a' whipped me out
of my boots." And then his eye fell again on Whistling Jim, who was
laughing and joking with some of the troopers. He called to the negro
in stern tones, and ordered him to ride close to his young master. "We
are going to have a little scrimmage purty soon, and a nigger that's
any account ought to be right where he can help his master if he gets
hurt."
Whistling Jim's face, which had grown very serious when he heard his
name called by the stern commander, suddenly cleared up and became
illuminated by a broad grin. "You hear dat, Marse Harry!" he exclaimed.
"I'm gwine in right behime you!" He reflected a moment, and then
uttered an exclamation of "Well, suh!"
About four o'clock in the afternoon the troopers under General Forrest
came in contact with Federals. This was in the nature of a surprise to
the Union commander, for there were persistent reports that Forrest had
passed on the other road, with the evident intention of harrying the
Federals at a point where they had no intention of crossing. So well
assured was he that these reports were trustworthy that he was
seriously considering the advisability of detaching a force
sufficiently large to capture the Confederate. He therefore paid small
attention to the attacks on his rear-guard. But presently the pressure
became so serious that he sent a member of his staff to investigate it.
Before the officer could perform this duty the rear-guard was compelled
to retreat on the main body in the most precipitate manner. Then the
attack ceased as suddenly as it began, and the Federal commander
concluded that, under all the circumstances, it would be best to cross
the river and get in touch with his base of supplies.
He went forward as rapidly as his troops could march, and he had a
feeling of relief when he came in sight of the river. It was higher
than it had been when he crossed it three or four days before, but
still fordable; but as his advance guard began to cross, Freeman's
battery, operated by young Morton, opened on them from the ambuscade in
which it had been concealed. The thing to do, of course, was to charge
the battery and either capture it or silence it, and the Federal
commander gave orders to that effect. But Forrest, looking at the
matter from a diametrically opposite point of view, knew that the thing
to do was to prevent the capture of the battery, and so he increased
the pressure upon the Federal rear to such an extent that his opponent
had no time to attend to the Confederate battery.
The Union commander was a very able man and had established a
reputation as a good fighter. So now, with perfect coolness, he managed
to present a very strong front where the rear had been, and he made
desperate efforts to protect his flank. But he was too late. Forrest
said afterward that it was as pretty a move as he had ever seen, and
that if it had been made five minutes sooner it would probably have
saved the day.
Just as the movement was about to be completed it was rendered useless
by the charge of Forrest's escort, a picked body of men, led by the
General in person. In the circumstances such charges were always
irresistible. Before the Federals could recover, the Confederate
general, by means of a movement so sudden that no commander could have
foreseen it, joined his force with that which was supporting Freeman's
battery and charged all along the line, bringing the eight and
twelve-pounders right to the front. No men, however brave, could stand
before a battery at close range, and the inevitable result ensued--they
got out of the way, and stood not on the order of their going. They
floundered across the river as best they could, and if they had not
been American troops they would have been demoralized and rendered
useless for fighting purposes; but, being what they were, they showed
their courage on many a hard-fought field as the war went on.
When night fell we retired a mile or two from the river and went into
camp. Forrest was in high good-humor. He had accomplished all that he
had set out to accomplish, and more. He had emphasized the fact that it
was dangerous work for the Federals to raid Northern Alabama while he
was in striking distance, and he had captured army stores and secured
horses that were comparatively fresh. The most welcome capture was the
arms, for many of his men were armed with flintlock muskets.
He was very talkative. "That nigger of yours done about as well as any
of the balance of us," he said to Harry Herndon.
"I didn't see him at all during the fighting," replied Harry, "but I
told him you'd have him shot if he ran."
"Well, he went right in," remarked the General, "and I expected him to
go over to the Yankees. Maybe he'd 'a' gone if it hadn't been for the
water."
At that moment we heard Whistling Jim calling, "Marse Harry! Marse
Cally Shannon!" I answered him so that he could find us, and he came up
puffing and blowing. A red handkerchief was tied under his chin and
over his head.
"Marse Harry!" he exclaimed, "kin I see you an' Marse Cally Shannon by
yo'se'f? I done done sump'n dat you'll sho kill me 'bout."
"Well, don't make any secret of it," said I. "Out with it!" exclaimed
Harry.
"Marse Harry, I done gone an' shot Marse Jack Bledsoe."
"Good Lord!" cried Harry.
"Yasser, I done shot 'im, an' he's bad hurt, too. You know dat las'
time we went at um? Well, suh, I wuz shootin' at a man right at me, an'
he knock my han' down des ez I pull de trigger, an' de ball cotch him
right 'twix de hip an' de knee. He call me by my name, an' den it come
over me dat we done got mix' up in de shuffle an' dat I wuz shootin' at
you. But 'twuz Marse Jack Bledsoe; I know'd 'im time I look at 'im
good."
"Good heavens! Is he dead?" inquired Harry, his voice shaking a little
in spite of himself.
"He ain't dead yit, suh," replied Whistling Jim. "I got down off'n my
hoss an' pick 'im up an' take 'im out er de paff er de rucus, an' den
when you-all done des ez much shootin' an' killin' ez you wanter, I
went back an' put 'im on my hoss an' tuck 'im ter dat little house by
de river. Dey's a white lady dar, an' she say she'll take keer un' 'im
twel somebody come. Does you reckon any er his side gwineter come back
atter 'im, Marse Harry? Kaze ef dey don't, I dunner what de name er
goodness he gwineter do. Dar he is, an' dar he'll lay. I'm done sick er
war ef you call dis war--you hear me!"
Harry said nothing, but I knew he was thinking of the fair Katherine,
Jack's sister, and wondering if he would ever be to her what she was to
him. He had his face in his hands, and appeared ready to give way to
grief. General Forrest turned to an orderly: "Go fetch Grissom here;
tell him to come right away." The surgeon soon came, General Forrest
told Whistling Jim to lead the way, and we were soon riding through the
night in the direction of the river.