SOUTH MOUNTAIN.
SOMERS returned the pistols to his belt as he listened to the sounds of
the retreating cavalry. This action on his part seemed to afford Maud
and the major an immense relief. Death no longer stared them in the
face, and both of them began to grow bold again.
“Now, Major Riggleston, when you see your uncle, Dr. Scoville, again,
you will have a story to tell him,” said Somers.
“I shall not be likely to tell him of it.”
“I think we have obtained some new ideas concerning the Yankees,
to-day,” added Maud, spitefully. “I had supposed their making war on
women and children was merely a poetic figure; but it appears to be
literally true.”
“Pray, am I to regard you as a woman or a child, Miss Hasbrouk?” asked
Somers; “or as both?”
“I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you hanged!” exclaimed she,
with compressed lips.
“That’s the sentiment of a woman, rather than a child,” laughed Somers.
“How long before we shall be rid of your presence, Captain Somers?”
“How long will it take your servants to bring up the horse and chaise in
which I saw you arrive?”
“Not ten minutes; if that will facilitate your departure, the chaise
shall be brought up instantly,” replied she, directing the waiter
present to give the stable boys the necessary orders.
“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk. May I trouble you also to get ready to
accompany me?”
“Accompany you, sir!”
“I do not regard myself as entirely safe yet,” replied the staff
officer, taking one of the pistols from his belt. “Before I am out of
sight, my friend the major may feel justified in calling for the cavalry
again.”
“They are five miles off, or will be by the time you have started,” said
the major.
“I think not. When I fall among people who are as sharp as you are, I
always use extraordinary precautions. It is part of my purpose that you
should go with us, my dear major.”
“Go where?” demanded the traitor, intensely alarmed.
“I will not trouble the lady to go any farther than the farm-house where
I left my horse. In regard to yourself, I shall have to insist upon your
going with me to headquarters.”
“Why so?”
“You are a traitor of the blackest stamp, and it is quite proper that
you should be attended to before you have done any more mischief.”
“You are quite mistaken, Captain Somers. I am—”
“I will pledge myself not to prevent your escape,” interposed Maud,
apparently unwilling that the major should say too much.
“Excuse me, if, after what has happened, I decline to trust you.”
“This is insolent, sir.”
“It is open to that construction, I admit,” said Somers, as he picked up
the letter which the major had read with so much astonishment.
It was a blank sheet, but the direction on the outside was in a lady’s
handwriting, evidently Maud’s. It was nothing but a “blind,” to afford a
reasonable pretence for the major’s sudden departure. Somers put it in
his pocket for future reference.
“The chaise is ready, captain,” said Maud.
“So am I; but you are not.”
“My hat and shawl are in the entry,” she replied, sullenly.
They passed out of the house when she had robed herself for the ride.
Somers assisted her into the vehicle.
“Where is the major?” asked he, turning to the spot where he had stood a
moment before. Maud’s reply was a silvery laugh, which was a sufficient
explanation that he had taken himself off.
“So much the better,” said Somers. “Good afternoon, Miss Hasbrouk,” he
added, as he walked rapidly up the road, in the direction of the
farm-house.
She was so surprised by this sudden and unexpected change in the
programme, that she could make no reply. She did not know whether the
movement boded good or evil; whether the captain had gone in pursuit of
the major, or to the place where he had left his horse.
Somers, when he discovered that the major had escaped him, was afraid to
trust himself in the family chaise, which would too surely betray his
movements to a pursuing force, if the traitor could find one in the
vicinity. He decided that it would be safer for him to walk, and then he
could avoid the public road if it became necessary for him to do so.
Though he would have been glad to hand the treacherous scoundrel over to
the military authorities for punishment as a deserter, or for giving aid
and comfort to the enemy, he would have been a great encumbrance to him
on the road. As events often happen for the best, he consoled himself
with the belief that the traitor’s escape was not the worst thing that
could have occurred.
He walked rapidly till he obtained his horse. Whatever his late friends
had done to secure his capture, he was not molested on the road, nor did
he discover any pursuers behind him. His horse was fresh, after the long
rest he had had, and Somers rode at a break-neck gait till he reached
the headquarters of the general. On the way, after he had carefully
arranged in his mind the information he had obtained, he could not help
thinking over the exciting events of the afternoon. Major Riggleston’s
conduct was very strange. On the preceding day he had been a loyal
soldier; now he was apparently in full sympathy with the rebels. It was
a sudden change, if it was a change at all.
But the major, like a lobster, had a lady in his head, and it was quite
impossible to tell what a major or a lobster would do, with a lady in
his head. Somers had met the beauty at the house of Mr. Riggleston, in
Frederick. They had ridden over to her home that morning in the chaise;
and the best solution which he could give of the matter was, that Maud
had converted him from one side to the other. As this seemed to be a
satisfactory explanation of the singular conduct of the fighting man, he
was satisfied with it, and gave the subject no further consideration.
His ride was not so long as it had been in the morning, for the army had
advanced some miles; and at sunset Somers reported his information to
the general. He also told his story about the attempt which had been
made to capture him, and in the course of his narrative involved the
loyal major of the Maryland Home Brigade in trouble and dishonor. The
general was not a little amused at the story, and hoped other officers,
who were invited to dinner by fair rebel ladies, and then entrapped,
would resort to similar strategy. But the information which Somers
brought was the most interesting and valuable part of the proceeds of
his trip, and the general was soon busy in the study of his maps in the
new light he had obtained.
The next day was Sunday; but it was not the quiet sabbath of the soul
that rests the body, and renews the spirit’s waning hope; it was a day
of storm and battle—a day of death and destruction. Somers performed his
first staff duty in the field on this occasion. During the forenoon the
artillery thundered along the range of the South Mountain. The enemy was
posted on the steeps, and all along the side of the mountain, on both
sides of the Cumberland road, which is the direct route to the Upper
Potomac. Beyond the hills were the wagon and ammunition trains of the
rebels, as well as the more considerable portion of their army. The
possession of this road was necessary to their safety, as well as to the
success of their grand scheme of carrying on a war of invasion.
The battle was opened by the corps of General Reno, next to which in the
line of march was the first army corps. During the early part of the
day, the action was fought with artillery, and was an attempt to
dislodge the enemy from the strong position they had taken. The slope of
the mountain was rugged, consisting of irregular ledges, and the whole
covered with wood, which grew out of the interstices of the rocks, and
on the shelves where there was earth enough to give life to a tree. In
these woods and among these rocks the rebels were located,—infantry and
sharpshooters,—while their cannon were placed in such positions that
they commanded all the approaches to the Gap, through which the road
passed.
An attack of infantry was ordered, and the gallant fellows went forward
with alacrity to execute the command. They rushed boldly up the steeps,
to a stone wall behind which the main line of the enemy rested, driving
the skirmishers before them. Torrents of blood flowed, and moistened the
soil where hundreds of brave fellows gave up their lives; but they won
the ground, and held it. The rebels fought with desperation, and their
generals rallied them in vain to do what could not be done.
Partial successes and partial reverses occurred in different parts of
the line until noon, when the artillery alone was actively engaged. The
day was not yet won, and hundreds more were to fall on the field before
the obstinate foe would yield the position.
At two o’clock in the afternoon the head of the first army corps
appeared, which had been ordered forward by General McClellan to the
support of Reno’s hard-pressed forces. As “Fighting Joe” appeared before
the lines, the utmost enthusiasm was manifested by the troops. They
cheered him as though he had already saved the day. The general was
examining the ground. His quick eye had already grasped the situation.
He had been ordered by the general commanding to make a feint in favor
of Burnside’s forces; but, satisfied that an attack on the south side of
the road would not be a success, he turned his attention to that portion
of the rebel line at the north of the road, which had been reported upon
by Captain Somers.
The general proceeded, as he always did, directly to the front. He
seemed to know precisely what he was about, and to have all his force
entirely in hand. Then he began to send off his orders, and the members
of his staff were dashing about in every direction, till the line was
formed. Batteries were posted behind the troops, and the shot and shell
whizzed through the air over the soldiers’ heads. The order to advance
was given; the line moved up the precipitous steeps, and for half an
hour the battle raged with tremendous fury.
Somers found every instant of his time occupied, as he dashed from one
division to another; while shot, shell, and bullets flew through the air
like hailstones. Kind Providence protected him again, as it had before,
and he escaped all injury. On marched the victorious line, conquering
every obstacle, and driving the rebels before them; but it was long
after dark before the red field was entirely won, and the Union troops
were in possession of the crests of the mountain.
“Captain Somers, you have done admirably, and fully justified my
selection of you for the important and difficult position to which you
have been assigned.”
Somers bowed, and felt as happy as though he had commanded the
successful army.
“One more task to-night, captain. You will ride to the headquarters of
the army, give my compliments to General McClellan, and inform him that
we have carried the position, and routed the enemy.”
Somers saluted the general, and urged forward his weary horse towards
Middletown. He found the commander-in-chief still in the saddle, and
delivered his message. He was directed to bear the congratulations of
General McClellan to the commander of the first army corps on his
success, with instructions to follow up the retreating rebels, and to
employ General Richardson’s division, which had been sent forward to
report to him, in this work, if the condition of his own troops required
it.
Somers made his salute, and was riding off, thinking over what had just
been said to him, as he had learned to do when sent on an errand in his
childhood. He was fully absorbed in his thoughts, when a voice
pronounced his name.
“Captain Somers, I am glad to see you again,” said an officer, urging
forward his horse to intercept him.
Somers looked at him, and was not a little surprised, in the darkness of
the evening, to recognize Major Riggleston, who appeared to be one of
the numerous staff of the commanding general. Perhaps it was fortunate
for the messenger that he had already faithfully conned his errand, or
the appearance of the traitor would have forever driven it from his
mind.
“Major Riggleston!” exclaimed he, hardly able to believe the evidence of
his own senses.
It was plain, after all, that he had not been fully converted to the
rebel faith by the blandishments of the beautiful Maud; but he was
occupying a worse and more disgraceful position, in Somers’s estimation,
than to have stood square up with the enemies of the country. It was
most audacious in the major to hail him, after what had occurred at the
mansion of the Maryland grandee, and Somers regarded him not only as a
rebel, but as the stupidest rebel he had ever met.
“The same, my boy,” replied the major, familiarly. “Ride on, and I will
go with you a short distance, to hear the news. They say Reno was
killed.”
“I am sorry to say it is true,” replied Somers, coldly.
“He was a brave fellow, and a splendid soldier. You must have had a warm
time over there.”
“Rather.”
“You are tired, arn’t you, old fellow? Can’t you talk?”
“Not much to you,” answered Somers, bluntly.
“To me? Why, what the dickens is the matter?” demanded the major, with
apparent surprise.
“The matter, indeed! How does it happen that you are here?”
“Why shouldn’t I be here, old boy?”
“After the affair of yesterday—”
“What affair of yesterday?”
The major had entirely lost his memory again. He had not heard a word
about the adventure at the mansion of Maud’s father.
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