|There was a shot from the bank. The soldiers sprang to their arms and
places, and everybody was ready for business in a moment. The shot had
been fired from a clump of trees on the left bank of the river, and as
the trees were encumbered with thick underbrush it was impossible to see
any one who might be lurking there.
The river at this point was not more than fifty yards in width, so that
any assailants would have the boats in very short range. But not another
shot was heard, and as the boats one after another drifted past the
point, their crews reached the conclusion that the bushwhackers had
concluded to seek safety in flight, or, what amounted to the same thing,
by making no further demonstration.
A mile or so farther down two of the boats went aground on a bar, and it
required a great deal of effort to get them off. Had they been
attacked at this point they would have been at a disadvantage, as their
assailants could have chosen their own distance, and had the protection
of the trees and brushwood along the banks. Harry and Jack began to wish
they had stuck to the road rather than essayed naval service in Arkansas
waters, where there was no chance of running away in case the enemy
proved too strong for them. If they could not resist successfully they
had no alternative but to surrender; and, as Harry expressed it, they
didn't like to “go around surrendering.”
An hour or more was lost at the point where the boats took the ground,
and when night came on little more than half the distance to Jacksonport
had been accomplished. The boats were tied up to the northern bank,
which was considered safer than the southern one, at a point not more
than a mile from the road taken by the army. The chance of bushwackers
venturing so near was not great, but a careful watch was kept to avoid
surprise.
Early next morning the boats were under way again, and before nightfall
they had arrived safely at Jacksonport, where the advance of the army
had encamped and was waiting for the rest of the column and also for the
boats.
The union of the Black river with the White did not give sufficient
water for the steamboats with supplies to ascend from below, and General
Curtis learned that they could not be expected to come further up than
Clarendon, seventy-five miles below Jacksonport. The only thing to do
was to follow the road and river to Clarendon, and after a halt of five
days the march was continued. Before the army started on its new march
it was reinforced by the arrival of the Second Wisconsin Cavalry which
had expected to join it at Batesville. It had marched from Springfield
without encountering an enemy at any point, though reports were current
of large forces which would obstruct any movements through the country.
Harry and Jack concluded to adhere to the fortunes of the navy in its
further descent of the river, and when the boats dropped off to float
away with the current they retained their places on the “Cordelia.”
The boats were ordered to proceed to Grand Glaise, twelve miles below
Jacksonport, and there wait further orders. The army at the same time
took up its line of march through the hills and swampy ground east
of the river, and was not expected to join the boats until reaching
Augusta, thirty-five miles from Jacksonport. A regiment of cavalry was
ordered to keep in the neighborhood of the boats to be ready to aid them
in case of necessity, which was not long in coming.
The Sixth Missouri Cavalry met the boats at Grand Glaise and ordered
them to proceed to Augusta, and on they floated with the sluggish
current, winding among the hills and forests that skirt the stream.
Colonel Wood, who commanded the cavalry regiment, said good-bye to
Captain Wadsworth and started for the main army, but before going far he
heard brisk firing from the dense bushes lining the banks of the river
just below Grand Glaise.
Hastily returning, he found the boats had been fired upon, and this time
with more effect than before. Captain Wadsworth was severely wounded,
and some of his men were slightly injured, but nobody was killed.
Harry had a very narrow escape. When the firing began he was working one
of the sweeps to bring the boat into the current, it having threatened
to run upon a bar that projected from the northern shore. A bullet
struck the huge oar on which he was pulling, and buried itself in the
wood within an inch of his hand; another passed through the top of
his hat, and still another lodged in the cotton-bale which formed his
shelter. The men on the boats promptly returned the fire, and by the
time the cavalry reached the spot the assailants had mounted their
horses and disappeared in the forest. How many there were of them no one
could say, as the density of the forest was a complete shield for them.
Natives in the vicinity reported nineteen killed, but this was doubtless
an exaggeration, as there were probably not above that number of them
altogether. The bushes were not searched, either by the crews of the
boats or the cavalry; the latter were too much engrossed with the
pursuit of the assailants to look for dead or wounded rebels, and the
former did not deem it at all prudent to venture ashore.
From this point the boats continued unmolested to Augusta, where it was
decided not to try to take them further, as the road lay too far from
the river to enable the army to come promptly to their support, and the
country was said to be swarming with bushwhackers. All the provisions
and other stores on the boats were taken ashore, and the boats and
their bulwarks of cotton were set on fire and burned. The pilot who had
accompanied them thus far was paid off, but he decided that it might not
be safe for him to return to Batesville, as his neighbors would accuse
him of being altogether too friendly with the Yanks. He was sorry he had
n't thought of it before, or he would n't have ventured down the river
at all.
It was the fourth of July when the army reached Augusta, and a salute
was fired in honor of the national independence. Our young friends found
their horses all right and safe in the hands of the friends to whom
they had been intrusted, and it is safe to say that both Harry and Jack
rejoiced to be once more in the saddle.
The old fever for scouting came upon them, and as the army was short of
provisions they proceeded to hunt up something for feeding purposes. In
the outskirts of the town they found a deposit of corn which had been
carefully concealed, and had already missed the sharp eyes of several
squads of soldiers. There were nearly a hundred bushels of it, and
following up their success they came upon another store of still larger
amount. In a clump of forest, half a mile or so out of Augusta, they
unearthed more than a wagon-load of bacon; and altogether their
labors were of material advantage to the little army, which had been
disappointed by the failure of the transports and gun-boats to ascend
the river.
After their return from the discovery of the bacon, an old negro sidled
up to Harry and said he could tell him something he would like to know.
“Out with it,” said Harry. “Don't keep me waiting. What is it you want
to tell me?”
“Hole on a bit, young massa,” said the negro. “Dere ain't no hurry 'bout
it.”
“Well, I'm in a hurry,” said Harry, “and if you've any talking to do,
fire away.”
“Now just look a-heah,” said the darky, “an' I'll tell yer. 'Fi tell
somethin' yer want to know real bad, 'll yer give me my free-papers?”
“Certainly,” was Harry's reply; “if you give us any information that's
true and useful, you 'll get your free-papers fast enough.”
“Dat's all I want ter know,” continued the colored citizen; “and dis is
what I'se gwine ter say.”
Harry listened patiently while the negro with much circumlocution told
him of a barn full of provisions which had been accumulated, about two
miles out of town, waiting for a favorable opportunity to ship them
to the rebel army or to Memphis, which was then the depot from which a
large part of the forces in the West were supplied. When convinced that
the negro was telling the truth, Harry quickly reported the circumstance
to General Vandever and a detail of cavalry was sent to take possession.
The negro did n't want to go along with the party, as it would involve
him in suspicion which would be bad for him in future, but he gave such
minute directions that there was no mistaking the place.
They found the barn and also the provisions. The owner of the place at
first denied all knowledge that anything was concealed there, and
said they were welcome to anything they could find, but as soon as the
discovery was made he assumed a different air altogether. He professed
to be a union man, and explained that he had hidden the stuff away to
save it from going to the rebels. “I would rather,” said he, “see it all
burned up than into a rebel mouth; that's the kind of union man I am.”
The army remained two days at Augusta, and then took up its line of
march for Clarendon, where the transports were said to have arrived
under convoy of a gunboat. The country between Jacksonport and Clarendon
is one of the finest regions of eastern Arkansas. A short distance
from the river the bluffs along the stream fall away into low hills
and gentle undulations, which become less distinct until at the divide
between the White and St. Francis rivers the land becomes an almost
unbroken level. A portion of this flat, alluvial country is in many
places covered with canebrakes, and is often overflowed in the season of
high water. At such times it becomes an almost impassable succession
of swamps and quagmires. But at the time our friends traversed it
the ground was dry and hard and offered no obstacle to passage save
occasionally at the crossings of creeks and rivulets.
Interspersed among these lowlands is a succession of higher grounds,
which are level and rarely broken by anything like an elevation. These
lands are excellent for cotton, and down to the opening of the war they
had annually sent a good supply of the textile plant to market. Cotton
was raised there in 1861 to some extent, but in 1862, by orders of the
Confederate government, much of the cotton land through the South was
planted with corn. The valley of the White river was no exception to
the rule, and as our army moved along it passed many fields of corn, of
which the ears, just then sufficiently advanced to be edible, formed
a welcome addition to the scanty stores possessed by the commissary
department. As a single article of diet, green corn is not to be
recommended, but when combined with other things it is, as everybody
knows, a thing not to be despised.
Every few miles the advance of the army came upon trees felled
across the roads, and considerable time was lost in removing these
obstructions. From the negroes it was learned that there was a
considerable force of rebels at the town of Des Arc, on the east bank
of White river, about half-way between Augusta and Clarendon. They were
said to be about six thousand strong, and to consist mainly of Arkansas
and Texas mounted men, under command of General Rust. As they were at
a convenient striking distance from the road which General Curtis was
following, it was thought quite likely they would make an attack at some
point where they could fight to advantage, and the result proved the
correctness of this belief.
Several timber obstructions were encountered, most of them at the
crossings of small creeks, but nothing was seen of an enemy until the
point was reached where the road from Des Arc joins the main one, about
ten miles to the east of that town. Here was the plantation of Colonel
Hill, an officer of the Confederate army, and his residence and
buildings were at the junction of the roads, in the southwest angle.
North of the Des Arc road was a cotton-gin and press, and close by were
two aboriginal mounds of unknown date. Colonel Hill was then blessed
with his third wife, and the graves of her two predecessors were on the
tops of these mounds, each one surrounded by a fence of white palings.
“It must have been,” said Harry, afterwards, “a cheerful thing for the
third wife to contemplate the graves on these mounds and wonder when her
turn would come and where she would be placed.” Jack thought the colonel
ought to put up another mound, so as to have everything ready for the
good lady's demise.
The country around the junction of the road had been cleared for
cotton-fields, but a little way beyond it the forests were dense and
afforded good cover for an enemy. The mounted men, in advance, with whom
were Harry and Jack, discovered signs of an enemy lurking in the timber
south of Hill's house, and word was sent to bring up the infantry. Harry
rode back to carry the order, and in a little while the infantry had
come forward and was ready for business. The Thirty-third Illinois
and the Eleventh Wisconsin were the ones selected for the work; they
deployed as skirmishers, and soon exchanged shots with the rebels, who
were spread out in the timber. The two union regiments were not more
than six hundred strong; they were opposed by about fifteen hundred
rebels, but the disparity of numbers was balanced by the superiority of
the weapons of the former and their good drill and discipline. The rebel
forces consisted of some very raw cavalry from Arkansas and Texas, and
some newly-assembled conscripts who had not been in camp many days and
knew practically nothing about military life.
Soon as the firing began to have anything like vigor to it the
conscripts fled in disorder, but the Texan troops stood their ground
very well. As our right approached the enemy's left it was met by a
volley which caused two of the companies to fall back a little; the
rebels undertook to follow up the advantage thus gained, and to do so
emerged from the wood into the open ground.
Here they were met by volleys of musketry and by rapid discharges of
grape from two steel howitzers which were brought forward by the First
Indiana Cavalry. This welcome was too much for the rebels, who broke and
fled from the field, leaving a good many of their men dead or wounded.
Some of them retreated to Des Arc, and others along the road to the
south. It was afterwards reported that three or four thousand men were
marching from Des Arc to join them, but were unable to get across the
Cache river, which is too deep to be forded and the single ferry-boat
was not able to bring them over in time to be of use. When it was found
that the other force had been defeated, they gave up the attempt to
interrupt the advance of the union army and marched back to Des Arc.