"Does General Hooker expect a written reply?"
"No, sir; I suppose not."
"Then you may report that you have delivered your message and that I
begin work at once."
"Yes, sir."
I took the led horse and mounted. The man used his spurs and rode toward
the east.
My orders required me to go west and northwest. I was to communicate
with General Franklin, whose division on this day ought to have landed
on the south bank of the Pamunkey below White House for the purpose of
cutting off the Confederates' retreat. The earliest possible delivery of
my message was strenuously required, my orders even going so far as to
include reasons for despatch. The retreating enemy were almost between
us and Franklin, and he must be notified to attack and delay them at
every hazard, and must be informed if possible by what road he should
advance in order to cut off their retreat; it was added that, upon
landing, General Franklin would not know of the situation of the rebel
army, and would depend upon information being brought to him by some one
of the messengers sent him on this night.
My ride was to be a ride of twenty-five miles or more, judging from the
map. Our outposts were perhaps six miles ahead; I made the six miles in
less than three-quarters of an hour. With the outposts I had no trouble.
"Give me the countersign for last Sunday," said the officer.
"Another man's ahead of you," he said, when I had responded.
"Who is he?"
"Don't know. Horse black."
"Going fast?"
"Goin' like hell!" said he; then added, "and goin' _to_ hell, too, if he
don't mind how he rides."
It was now after nine o'clock, and I had nineteen or twenty miles ahead
of me. As I had ten hours, I considered that circumspection was worth
more than haste--let the black horse go on.
"Where are the rebels?"
"A mile in front when dark came."
"Infantry?"
"Couldn't say; they are infantry or dismounted cavalry--don't know
which."
"Please describe their position."
"Don't know a thing except that they could be seen drawn up across the
road--a mile out there," pointing.
"In the woods?"
"Yes."
"Captain--"
"No, only lieutenant."
"Beg pardon, sir; won't you be so good as to send a man with me to the
point from which the rebels could be seen at dark?"
"Yes; I'll do that much for you. Here, Johnson!"
As Johnson and I rode forward, I tried to get all he knew--but he knew
nothing; he had no idea whether the enemy were cavalry or infantry,
whether they had retired or were yet in position, or how many they were.
The moon was almost overhead; the sandy road muffled the sounds of the
horses' hoofs; no noise came from front or rear. The way was through the
woods; in little more than half a mile open ground was seen ahead.
Johnson stopped; so did I.
"They are on the other side of the field," said he,
"How wide is the field?"
"A quarter, I guess."
"What was planted in the field last year?"
"Corn."
"Stalks still standing?"
"Yes, but they are very small."
"Does the road run between fences?"
"Yes."
"How far does the field extend to our right?"
"Only a short distance--a few hundred yards."
"And to our left?"
"Farther--about a half a mile, maybe."
"Any houses?"
"Yes, on the other side, where the rebels were."
"A farmhouse?"
"Yes, and other buildings--stables and the like."
"Which side of the road?"
"The left."
Johnson could answer no further questions; I let him go.
How had the black horse passed on? Delay might mean my arrival at
Franklin's position later than that of the black horse, or it might mean
success. If the rebels had abandoned this position at nightfall, I
should be wasting time here by taking precautions; if they were yet
yonder in the woods on the other side of the field, they would capture
me if I rode on. Which course should I take--the safe course, or the
possible speedy course? I took the safe course. Dismounting I tied my
horse to a swinging limb, and crept forward on the right of the
right-hand fence, until I reached the woods beyond the field. I looked
over the fence into the road. There was no enemy visible. The house at
the west was without lights, and there was no noise of barking dogs or
of anything else; clearly the rebels had moved, and by my prudence the
black horse had gained further upon me. I got into the road and ran back
to my horse, mounted hurriedly and rode forward at a gallop for half a
mile; then I slowed to a walk. How far had the rebels gone? Might I not
expect a challenge at any moment? I must not let a first disappointment
control my reason. The roads were bad; the retreat of the rebels was
necessarily slow, as they had many wagon trains to protect. The road
must be forsaken at the first path that would lead me to the right; any
bridle-path would lead me somewhere. The night was clear, and the stars
would guide me until I should reach some better ground. The sketch
furnished me gave me only the main road, with the branch roads marked
down for very short distances. I would take one of the branch roads
leading to the right; there must be roads leading up the York; all the
country is interlaced with roads small and large. I would risk it;
better do that than risk falling into the enemy's hands.
I was thus cogitating when a sound reached me. I thought I could
distinguish a horse's footfall. I stopped--the sound was louder--coming
and coming fast. I dismounted and led my horse into the woods a few
yards and covered his mouth with my hands. Still the sounds reached
me--the constant cadence of a galloping horse, yet coming from far. Who
could be riding fast this night? Who could be riding south this night?
The rebels were going north; no rebel horseman would ride
south to-night.
The sounds increased now rapidly, and soon a single horse dashed by; I
could not see the rider for the boughs of the trees, but I saw a black
horse going south.
Was this the messenger who had outstripped me at the start? I could not
know, but the horse was black. Why not brown? How could I be sure that
in the moonlight I could tell black from brown, or black from bay? I
could not answer, yet I felt confidence in my first impression. The
lieutenant had said the man's horse was black. How did the lieutenant
know? Had he seen the horse by day? Had he brought a light? The horse
must be very black. To satisfy my mind I led my horse into the road and
slipped the bridle round his foreleg; then retired a few yards and
looked at him--he had not the colour of the black horse; he was a
deep bay.
Why was the black horse returning? Doubtless the enemy had been found
far up the road, and the messenger could not get through them. Who else
would be riding fast down this road? If the rider were a rebel, he would
ride slow. Our men would ride fast toward our own lines; this rider was
one of ours. Who was he? He was the messenger on the black horse. Why
should he ride so fast to the rear? He was seeking a new road; perhaps
he knew of another road, and was hurrying now because he had already
lost time and his new road would be longer and would make him lose more.
Yet I went on up the road. I had heard the galloping of the black horse
far off, and I knew that I could go half a mile before I should
encounter the enemy. I was ahead of the black horse.
After riding five minutes slowly on, I came to a small field on the
right of the road; in the field was a cabin. I paused, and considered.
The cabin, no doubt, was deserted; but if it were occupied, what should
I fear? I was in citizen's dress. If any one was now in the cabin, I
might get information; if it was deserted, I could explore the ground
about it, for I hoped that some path connected this place with other
fields and perhaps other roads to the north. I dismounted and approached
the door and knocked. There was no response. I pushed the door, and it
opened; the place had been vacated. I searched the grounds; there was a
well in the back yard, and I lost the hope that I should find a path
leading to a spring, and perhaps beyond. I diligently and painfully
continued my search, and at length was rewarded by seeing a stile in the
back fence. I went back and mounted, and rode round the little field to
the stile, and took the path leading from it due north. I reached the
woods, and was compelled to dismount, for the branches of the trees
overhung the path and constantly barred my way. Leading my horse, I
continued on and came to a larger field where, at the fence, the path
connected with, a narrow plantation road which I knew, from the ruts,
wagons had used. I went to the right, no longer dismounted, and going at
a fast trot. My road was running in a northeast course, but soon the
corner of the field was reached, and then it branched, one branch going
to the north, the other continuing northeast Which should I take? I
could not hesitate; I rode north, and kept on pursuing this narrow road
for nearly a mile, I supposed. Where I was I did not know, but I felt
sure that I was flanking the rebels who had stopped the black horse. I
considered the plan of trying now to get back into the main road again,
but rejected the thought, for no doubt Johnston's army was stretched
along this road for many miles; no doubt it was only the rear-guard
picket that had turned back my unknown friend who had preceded me. I
would keep on, and I did keep on, getting almost lost sometimes, passing
farms and woods and streams, forsaking one path for a worse one, if the
latter favoured my course, until at last, after great anxiety, and
fatigue of body and mind, I reached a wide road running northwest. I had
come, I supposed, four or five miles from the stile.
Now I no longer feared the rebel army. That was at my left in the road
to Richmond. This road I was on led up the York. The map was worthless
now. Of course, I might run foul of scouts and flying parties; those
people I must watch for.
I supposed it was one o'clock, and that I yet had fifteen miles to go,
for I had made my route much longer than the main road; but I counted
that I had gained greatly, for I was in comparative safety, and had five
hours yet. The road ahead I knew nothing about, but it was running in
the correct course for Eltham's Landing high up on the river.
Soon I came to a fork. Which branch should I take? If I should take the
right, it was chance for chance that I should go straight off to the
York, and I wanted to go up the York; if I should take the left, it was
chance for chance that I should ride straight to the enemy on the
Richmond road.
I took the left. To go to the river meant almost the loss of hope
thereafter. I would go toward the enemy for a little distance, but would
take the first bridle-path to the right, some road or bridle-path
branching out of this, and running up the river. But my progress became
exceedingly slow, for I feared always to miss seeing some blind road
leading to the right, and my carefulness again cost me a little time,
perhaps, for I found a path, and took it, going with great caution for a
furlong, to find that it entered a larger road. If I had not taken this
path, I should have soon reached this good road at its junction, and
time would have been saved by increased speed; yet I did not blame
myself, and went on with renewed hope and faster, for although the moon
was getting far down the sky, my road was good and was running straight
toward my end.
But at length, as I was going over a sandy stretch, I heard hoof-beats
behind me, and the sound grew, and I knew that some night rider was
following fast. What is he? A rebel or a Federal? Loud ring the strokes
of the horse's irons and louder behind me; I must run or I must
slip aside.
I chose to let him pass. To be pursued would have been to throw up the
game; all then would have been lost. I left the road and hid in the
shadowy woods. On came the rider, and as the thundering hoofs hit the
road within ten paces of my stand, I saw again the black horse belly to
the ground in the moonlight.
Almost at once I started in pursuit. I would keep this man before me; if
he should run upon rebels, the alarm would reach me; so long as he
should be in my front, safety for me was at the front and danger
elsewhere. I pursued, keeping within sight where the road stretches were
long, going slowly where the ground was hard, lest the noise of my
approach should be heard. Yet I had no difficulty; the courier was
straining every nerve to reach his destination, and regarded not his
rear. He crossed roads in haste, and by this I knew that the road was to
him familiar; he paused never, but kept his horse at an even gallop
through forest and through field, while I followed by jerks, making my
horse run at times, and again, fearing I was too near, bringing him back
to slower speed. For miles I followed the black horse.
But now I saw that the night was further spent than I had supposed;
light was coming behind me, and the moon was low in the west. How far to
the end? The black horse is going more slowly; he has gone many weary
miles more than mine has gone; his rider is urging him to the utmost; I
can see him dig his spurs again and again into the sides of the noble
beast, and see him strike, and I see him turn where the road turns ahead
of me, and I ride faster to recover him; and now I see black smoke
rising at my right hand, and I hear the whistle of the Union steam
vessels, and I almost cry for joy, and at the turning of the road my
horse rears and almost throws me to the ground, and I see the black
horse lying dead, and I spur my horse to pass, and give a cry of terror
as a man springs from the left, with carbine presented, and shouts,
"Your horse! your horse! Dismount at once, or I'll blow your
brains out!"
For the rider of the black horse was a Confederate!
Shall I ever forget that moment of dismay and anguish? Even as I write
the thrill of horror returns, and I see a picture of the past:--the
daybreak; a lonely road in the forest; two men and two horses, each pair
as unlike as life and death, for one's horse was dead and the other man
was about to die. Had I been so utterly foolish! Why had I conceived
absolutely that this rider was a Federal? How could a Federal know the
road so well that he had gone over it at full speed, never hesitating,
never deflecting into a wrong course? The instant before, I had been in
heaven, for I had known my safe destination was at hand; now, I felt
that my end had come to me, for my terror was for myself and not for a
lost mission, and I cannot remember that in that smallest second of time
any other hope was in me but that of riding this man down and reaching
our troops with a mortal bullet in my body.
In a second the world may be changed--in a second the world _was_
changed. I saw my captor's gun drop from his hands; I saw his hands go
up. I looked round; in the road behind me--blessed sight--were two
Union soldiers with their muskets levelled at the man in gray.
"Take me at once to General Franklin."
Again I was thunderstruck--two voices had shouted the same words!
The revulsion turned me stomach-sick; the rider of the black horse was a
Federal in disguise!
* * * * *
General Franklin advanced, and met the enemy advancing. For no error on
my part, my mission was a failure.
"How could you know the road so well for the last ten miles of it?" I
asked of Jones, the rider of the black horse.
"That horse was going home!"
"A horse captured from the rebels?"
"No; impressed only yesterday from a farmer near the landing. You see he
had already made that road and was not in the best condition to make it
again so soon; then I had to turn about more than once. I suppose that
horse must have made nearly a hundred miles in twenty-four hours."
Jones was of Porter's escort, and had on this occasion served as General
Porter's messenger.
On the next day, the 8th, I returned to the Sanitary Camp.