BEFORE THE GREAT BATTLE.
CAPTAIN SOMERS was as thoroughly bewildered as he would have been if the
mountains around him had suddenly commenced dancing a hornpipe; or if
the trees, horses, and men before him had turned bottom upwards, and the
whole order of nature had been reversed. He was entirely satisfied, on
reflection, that the event of the preceding afternoon had been a
reality; entirely satisfied that Major Riggleston had been a party to
the infamous conspiracy by which the fair Maud had sought to capture
him; and the unblushing impudence of his companion in denying it passed
his comprehension.
“I think you must be dreaming, Captain Somers,” said the major, with a
light laugh.
“Either I am, or you are; I will not pretend to say which,” replied
Somers, almost convinced by the words, and especially by the easy
assurance of the major, that no attempt had been made to capture him;
that no such person as Maud Hasbrouk had an existence.
But of course the traitor would deny his guilt; that was to be expected.
It was not to be supposed that he would engage in such a nefarious
scheme as that which had been exhibited at the Hasbrouk house, and then
confess his participation in it. The major had actually returned to the
Union lines, and had the temerity to take his place in the ranks of the
defenders of the Union, even while he was, not only in heart, but
openly, engaged in the service of treason and rebellion.
“Now, captain, let us be friends,” continued the major; “for it really
seems to me that you are disposed to provoke a quarrel with me.”
“I cannot be the friend of one who is an enemy to his country,” replied
Somers, stiffly, and with a proper display of dignity.
“My dear fellow, I don’t understand you.”
“Don’t understand me, Major Riggleston?” Somers began to be stern and
savage.
“Upon my word I do not,” protested the major, earnestly. “If you insist
on picking a quarrel with me, pray tell me what it is all about.”
“This is all idle talk, sir.”
“You have accused me of being an enemy to my country.” The major began
to be slightly indignant.
“Most distinctly I accuse you of it.”
“That’s a grave charge.”
“I am aware of it; and I speak advisedly when I make it. If I had met
General Lee himself within our lines, I should not have been more
astonished than I was to see you, after what has happened.”
“Will you be so kind as to tell me what has happened?” demanded the
accused officer, manifesting no little excitement.
“At no distant day I shall do so before a court-martial.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you any doubt whatever in regard to my meaning?”
“Upon my word and honor as an officer and a gentleman, I have not the
remotest idea what you mean.”
“Major Riggleston, if the nature of my mission would permit, I would
return to the headquarters of the commanding general and denounce you as
a traitor.”
“Captain Somers, those are words which no man can use to me with
impunity,” replied the major, indignantly. “I shall hold you personally
responsible for them.”
“I am willing to be held personally responsible for what I say,”
answered Somers, coolly. “If you mean violence by that remark, I shall
not be off my guard.”
“Captain Somers, you are a brave man. You have proved yourself to be a
brave and true man,” said the major, with more calmness. “I think you
are too noble a fellow to vilify me without giving me an opportunity to
defend myself.”
“Of course you will have an opportunity to defend yourself.”
“You propose to denounce me as a traitor, you say.”
“I do.”
“You are aware that the people of my state are divided on the great
question that now disturbs the country; consequently a charge, however
weak and unfounded, against me, would find plenty of believers. I have
enemies. All I demand is fair play.”
“You shall have it, major; for, deeply as you have injured me, or
attempted to injure me, I assure you I bear no personal ill will towards
you.”
“Thank you for so much; but you say I have attempted to injure you. I am
not conscious of any such attempt.”
“Major Riggleston, this is all idle talk while you assume that
position—while you pretend to be ignorant of the matter with which I
charge you; and I must decline holding any further intercourse with you
at present. Let me add, however, that I will not make charges until you
are present to defend yourself.”
“So far your conduct is honorable; if you would go a step farther, and
state distinctly with what you charge me, I should be infinitely obliged
to you.”
“That is useless. From a gentleman I should not expect such duplicity as
you exhibit in pretending to know nothing about the charge.”
“I have pledged you my honor that I don’t know what you mean; that I am
not conscious of having given you any offence, much less done anything
which can justify you in calling me a traitor.”
“Do you know Miss Maud Hasbrouk?” demanded Somers.
“Of course I know her. You are perfectly aware that, though she is a
rebel, she is a friend of our family.”
“Good night, Major Riggleston,” said Somers, as he put spurs to his
steed, and dashed down the hill, leaving his companion to infer what he
meant from his connection with the lady, if he needed anything to enable
him to explain the nature of the charge.
The staff officer was excited and indignant that the traitor should
attempt such a bold and foolish subterfuge. It was almost incredible
that he should have the audacity to pretend that he did not know what
the charge meant. There was no room for a doubt or a mistake. The major
had positively received the blank letter; had positively gone after the
rebel cavalry; had positively sustained Maud in her attempt to capture
him. It was not possible, therefore, that he had done the culprit any
injustice.
Thus assured that he had not wronged the major, Captain Somers again
turned his attention to the message which he was to deliver to his
general, and urged forward his weary horse at his best speed. He found
the troops of “Fighting Joe” resting from the hard-fought action, and
engaged in preparing their simple supper of coffee and “hard tack.” He
delivered the orders of the commanding general, and the division of
Richardson was accordingly sent forward to pursue the fleeing rebels.
Early on the following morning the army advanced, and Somers found no
time to think of private grievances. The general did much of his own
reconnoitring on this occasion, though the members of his staff were
kept constantly employed. The enemy had fallen back in disorder from
South Mountain; but at ten o’clock in the forenoon the advance of the
first corps came up with the position which the rebels had taken, to
dispute the farther progress of the now victorious army. But the general
had not at this time a sufficient force to make an attack. Antietam
Creek lay between the two armies; and the bridge over it at this point
was protected by the batteries which the rebels had planted to defend
it.
The enemy, in two lines on the west side of the creek, were believed to
consist of fifty thousand men; and the brave general impatiently awaited
the arrival of the rest of the corps. It looked like an opportunity to
fight a successful battle, and he was determined to cross the stream at
the first practicable moment.
“General, the enemy are breaking into column and marching towards
Williamsport,” said Somers, as he rode up from the point at which he had
been surveying the movement on the other side of the creek.
“They are on the retreat, then,” replied the general.
Captain Somers and an officer of the engineers were then sent to examine
the creek in search of a ford by which to transfer the troops to the
other side as soon as the force of the rebels should be sufficiently
reduced to justify an attack. The general chafed under the restraint
which the circumstances imposed upon him; but he was too prudent to risk
an attack while the advantage was so strongly against him. A ford was
found near a mill, farther up the creek, and the officers reported the
fact; but the arrival of the commanding general at this time prevented
“Fighting Joe” from ordering an advance.
The corps remained at this place until the afternoon of the next day,
when orders came to cross the creek. The troops proceeded up the stream,
and went over by a bridge and by the fords which had been examined by
the staff officers. The outposts of the enemy were soon discovered and
driven in, and the gallant corps continued to push the force in front
till it was too dark to proceed any farther, at which time the
resistance was fully equal to the power of the advancing host. This was
the night before the great battle of Antietam.
The weary troops lay down to rest in the cornfields where they had
halted. The rebels were close by, and the pickets of the two armies were
within gunshot range of each other. There was no rest yet for the
general and his staff; for it was evident that a great battle was to be
fought on the morrow—a battle on which the destinies of the Union
depended. If the grand army of the Potomac was defeated, there would be
nothing to stay the march of the invaders. The fair fields and the
prosperous cities and towns of the North would then be open to them. The
great heart of the nation, beating timidly as the rebel hordes advanced,
sickened by previous disasters, might sink into despondency, and the
bright hopes of a great people be forever crushed. It was no time for
the brain of the army to slumber.
“We want information,” said the general, after he had sent an aid to
General McClellan to announce his intention to attack the enemy at the
earliest dawn.
The commander of the first army corps always wanted information, for he
never moved in the dark. His brain and his arm were twin brothers in the
conflict. Somers and Barkwood volunteered to procure the information,
and left the headquarters for this purpose. It was useless to attempt to
penetrate the heavy picket line of the rebels in the cornfields, and
they descended the hill beyond a farm-house, till they came to a ravine
through which flowed a considerable volume of water.
“Here’s our chance,” said Somers, in a low tone.
“That’s so; but you know I am a great coward, and this looks like risky
business,” replied Captain Barkwood.
“If you are, I think there is no need of more than one of us going
through.”
“O, my dear fellow, I will go with you.”
“I think it would be safer for us both to separate here.”
“I agree with you.”
“Then I will take this ravine, and you may see what you can find farther
to the north.”
“Good! Now be scientific, my boy; we want to know the topography of the
country as well as the position of the enemy.”
“Certainly; I think I understand what is required,” replied Somers, as
he descended the steep bank of the ravine into the water.
The banks of the stream were of course occupied by the pickets of the
two armies, and his course led him through both of them. He was just as
much exposed to a shot from one as from the other. Somers was a man of
experience in this business. He had earned a reputation as a scout, and
had on three occasions brought in information of the utmost value to the
Union commanders. Indeed, his skill in this particular branch had
procured for him his promotion and his present honorable position on the
staff of “Fighting Joe.” He was now to undertake a fearful risk—more
fearful, perhaps, than any he had before incurred; but the greater the
danger, the more valuable the service rendered; and the result of
to-morrow’s battle might depend upon the fidelity with which he
discharged his difficult duty.
He wore his long boots, and he continued to feel his way on the verge of
the stream, without going in beyond his depth. The ravine was fringed
with a thick growth of bushes, which shielded him from the observation
of the pickets; but the slightest sound would expose him to the fire of
the men. In many places the trees formed an arch over the brook, and the
darkness was so dense that he could hardly distinguish an object six
feet from him. He did not walk; he crept, putting his feet down as a cat
does when she is on the point of pouncing on her prey.
After advancing a short distance he heard low voices on the banks above
him. He was passing the first line of pickets—that of the Union army.
His progress was very slow, but he succeeded in his purpose without
drawing the fire of the sentinels. He was now between the two lines, and
he quickened his pace a little.
While he was thus creeping through the shallow water, he discovered in
the gloom a dark object before him. He paused, and ascertained that it
was a human figure—a man, who had also stopped; but whether friend or
enemy he could not determine.
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