THE LONE SENTINEL
The desultory firing troubled the ears of Talbot as he trod to and fro
on his self-imposed task, as he could not see the use of it. The day for
fighting and the night for sleep and rest was the perfect division of a
soldier's life.
The tail of the battle writhed on without regard for his feelings or
theories, though its efforts became gradually feebler, and he hoped that
by and by the decent part of both armies would settle into lethargy,
leaving the night to the skirmishers, who never sleep and are without
conscience.
He went back a little to an open spot where a detail of about twenty men
were posted. But he did not remain with them long. Securing a rifle, he
returned toward the enemy, resolved to watch on his own account--a
voluntary picket.
Talbot was not troubled for his friends alone. The brigade had been
beaten and driven back upon the river, and with the press of numbers
against it he feared that the next day would bring its destruction. The
coming of the night, covering friend and foe alike and making activity
hazardous, was opportune, since it would give his comrades time to rest
and gather their strength for the stand in the morning. He could hear
behind him even now the heavy tread of the beaten companies as they
sought their places in the darkness, the clank of gun wheels, and now
and then the neigh of a tired horse.
The crash of a volley and another volley which answered came from his
right, and then there was a spatter of musketry, stray shots following
each other and quickly dying away. Talbot saw the flash of the guns, and
the smell of burnt gunpowder came to his nostrils. He made a movement
of impatience, for the powder poisoned the pure air. He heard the shouts
of men, but they ceased in a few moments, and then farther away a cannon
boomed. More volleys of rifle shots and the noise of the cheering or its
echo came from his left; but unable to draw meaning from the tumult, he
concluded at last it was only the smouldering embers of the battle and
continued to walk his voluntary beat with steady step.
The night advanced and the rumbling in the encampment behind him did not
cease at all, the sounds remaining the same as they were earlier in the
evening--that is, the drum of many feet upon the earth, the rattle of
metal and the hum of many voices. Talbot concluded that the men would
never go to sleep, but presently a light shot up in the darkness behind
him, rising eight or ten feet above the earth and tapering at the top to
a blue-and-pink point. Presently another arose beside it, and then
others and still others, until there were thirty, forty, fifty or more.
Talbot knew these were the campfires and he wondered why they had not
been lighted before. At last the men would go to sleep beside the
cheerful blaze. The fires comforted him, too, and he looked upon the
rosy flame of each, shining there in the darkness, as he would have
looked upon a personal friend. They took away much of his lonely
feeling, and as they bent a little before the wind seemed to nod to him
a kind of encouragement in the dangerous work upon which he had set
himself. He could see only the tops of these rosy cones; all below was
hidden by the bushes that grew between. He could not see even the dim
figure of a soldier, but he knew that they were there, stretched out in
long rows before the fires, asleep in their blankets, while others stood
by on their arms, ready for defense should the pickets be driven in.
The troublesome skirmishers seemed to be resting just then, for no one
fired at him and he could not hear them moving in the woods. The
scattering shots down the creek ceased and the noises in the camp began
to die. It seemed as if night were about to claim her own at last and
put everybody to rest. The fires rose high and burned with a steady
flame.
A stick broke under his feet with a crackling noise as he walked to and
fro, and a bullet sang through the darkness past his ear. He fired at
the flash of the rifle, and as he ran back and forth fired five or six
times more, slipping in the bullets as quickly as he could, for he
wished to create an illusion that the patrol consisted of at least a
dozen men. The opposing skirmishers returned his fire with spirit, and
Talbot heard their bullets clipping the twigs and pattering among the
leaves, but he felt no great alarm, since the night covered him and only
a chance ball could strike him.
His opponents were wary, and only two or three times did he see the
shadows which he knew to be their moving figures. He fired at these but
no answering cry came, and Talbot could not tell whether any of his
bullets struck, though it did not matter. His lead served well enough as
a warning, and the skirmishers must know that the nearer they came the
better aim they would have to face. Presently their fire ceased and he
was disappointed, as his blood had risen to fever heat and he was in
fighting humour.
The night went on its slow way, and Talbot, stopping a moment to rest
and listen for the skirmishers, calculated that it was not more than two
hours until day. The long period through which he had watched began to
press upon him. Weights dragged at his feet, and he noticed that his
rifle when he shifted it from one shoulder to the other appeared many
pounds heavier than before. His knees grew stiff and he felt like an old
man; but he allowed himself no rest, continuing his walk back and forth
at a slower pace, for he believed he could feel his joints grate as he
stepped. He looked at the fires with longing and was tempted to go; but
no, he must atone for the neglect of that chief of brigade.
Just when the night seemed to be darkest the skirmishers made another
attack, rushing forward in a body, firing with great vigour and
shouting, though hitherto they had fought chiefly in silence. Talbot
considered it an attempt to demoralize him and was ready for it. He
retreated a little, sheltered himself behind a tree and opened fire,
skipping between shots from one tree to another in order that he might
protect the whole of his battle line and keep his apparent numbers at
their height.
His assailants were so near now that he could see some of them springing
about, and one of his shots was followed by a cry of pain and the
disappearance of the figure. After that the fire of his antagonists
diminished and soon ceased. They had shown much courage, but seemed to
think that the defenders were in superior numbers and a further advance
would mean their own destruction.
Again silence came, save for the hum of the camp. The fires burnt
brightly behind him, and far off in front he saw the flickering fires of
the enemy. As the wind increased the lights wavered and the cones split
into many streams of flame before it. The leaves and boughs whistled in
the rush of air and the waters of the creek sang a minor chord on the
shallows. Talbot had heard these sounds a hundred times when a boy in
the wilderness of the deep woods, and it was easy enough for him to
carry himself back there, with no army or soldier near. But he quickly
dismissed such thoughts as would lull him only into neglect of his
watch. After having kept it so long and so well it would be the height
of weakness to fail now, when day could not be much more than two hours
distant.
The silence remained unbroken. An hour passed and then another, and in
the east he saw a faint shade of dark gray showing through the black as
if through a veil.
The gray tint brightened and the black veil became thinner. Soon it
parted and a bar of light shot across the eastern horizon, broadening
rapidly till the world of hills, fields and forests rose up from the
darkness. A trumpet sounded in the hostile camp.
Skirmishers filled the woods in front of Talbot and pressed toward him
in a swarm.
"Surrender!" cried out one of them, an officer. "It is useless for you
to resist! We are a hundred and you are one! Don't you see?"
Talbot turned and looked back at the fires burning in the empty camp of
his comrades. The light of the morning showed everything, even to the
last boat-load of the beaten brigade landing on the farther shore; he
understood all.
"Yes, I will surrender," he said, as his eyes gleamed with sudden
comprehension of his great triumph, "but I've held you back till the
last company of our division has passed the river and is safe."