MOORE'S MILL
We left Harry Semans and his young companion just starting on their
lonely ride to Jefferson City, a distance of twenty-seven miles. The
soldier with Harry proved rather a garrulous youth. He said his name was
David Harris; that he belonged to the Third Iowa Cavalry; was a farmer
boy, and rather liked the service. "It's exciting, you know," he added.
"Very much so at times," dryly answered Harry.
"Say, what makes you dress like a blamed guerrilla?" suddenly asked
Dave. "You are a soldier, aren't you?"
"I am a scout," replied Harry. "I dress like a guerrilla because I have
to pretend to be one about half the time. Just before I reached Fulton
today I passed myself off as one of Porter's men. It saved me a
dangerous encounter, perhaps my life."
"Gee! it must be exciting," said the boy. "I wish I was a scout."
"Couldn't be one," laughed Harry. "Your Yankee brogue would give you
away. I notice you say 'keow' instead of 'cow' and 'guess' instead of
'reckon.' But please don't talk any more, we must keep both ears and
eyes open."
After this they rode along in silence; that is, as much as Dave would
allow, until Harry ordered him to ride in the rear, and if he must talk,
talk to himself, and so low that no one else could hear.
For some ten miles they proceeded at a swift gallop without adventure,
meeting two or three horsemen who seemed as little desirous of making
acquaintance as they were themselves, and Dave began to think the ride
rather tame.
As they were passing a place where the bushes grew thickly by the side
of the road, they received a gruff command to halt. Instead of obeying,
Harry, as quick as thought, drew his revolver and fired, at the same
time putting spurs to his horse and shouting to Harris, "Ride for your
life."
There was a rustling in the bushes, an angry exclamation as well as a
groan. Harry's shot had gone true, and came as a surprise to the
bushwhackers as well, for two or three seconds elapsed before three or
four shots rang out, and they went wild.
"Well, how do you like it?" asked Harry, as he drew rein, considering
the danger past.
"It was so sudden," said Dave. "I think I would have halted, and asked
what was wanted."
"And got gobbled, and in all probability hanged afterwards. Dave, you
have to learn something yet before you become a scout. Always be ready
to fire at a moment's notice; and if you have to run don't tarry on your
going. I took chances as to whether there was a large party or not, but
concluded it was not, or some of them would have been in the road."
"Did you think of all that? Why, the word 'Halt' was hardly out of the
fellow's mouth when you fired."
"Think quickly, act quickly; it has saved my bacon many a time. You
ought to have been with me when I was with Captain Lawrence Middleton.
There is the fellow to ride with. But this wouldn't have happened if
Bruno had been with me."
"Bruno? Who is Bruno?" asked Dave.
"Bruno is my dog. He would have smelled those fellows out before we were
within forty rods of them. I am never afraid of a surprise when Bruno is
with me. But no more talking now."
Once more their horses took up a swinging gallop, and they met with no
further adventures, and within less than three hours from the time they
started they were halted by the Union pickets who guarded the approach
to the river opposite Jefferson City.
Harry demanded of the Lieutenant in command of the picket that they be
ferried across the river without loss of time, but the Lieutenant
demurred, saying it was against orders to allow anyone to cross the
river during the night.
"I have important dispatches from Captain Duffield to Colonel Guitar.
Refuse to take me over, and I would not give much for your command,"
angrily answered Harry.
"Who are you?" demanded the Lieutenant. "From your dress you are
certainly not a soldier."
"I am Harry Semans, scout for the Merrill Horse," answered Harry.
"At the name 'Merrill Horse' the Lieutenant became as meek as a lamb.
"Excuse me," he exclaimed. "I will see that you get over the river
immediately. Anything new at Fulton?"
"Porter and Poindexter are within eleven miles of the place, and
Duffield expects to be attacked by morning."
The Lieutenant gave a low whistle. "The devil," he ejaculated, and
rushed to give the necessary orders.
It was eleven o'clock before the river was crossed and the headquarters
of Colonel Guitar reached. He had just retired, but Harry and Dave were
without ceremony admitted into his bedroom. The Colonel read the
dispatch of Captain Duffield, sitting on his bed in his nightclothes.
At once all was excitement. There were but five hundred men guarding the
important post of Jefferson City. Of this force, Colonel Guitar ordered
one hundred to accompany him to Fulton. He dared not deplete the little
garrison more.
While Harry and Dave were in the Colonel's bedroom, Harry noticed that
Dave was regarding Guitar with a great deal of interest. When they
passed out Dave said to Harry in a whisper, "That general don't amount
to shucks. Think of him fighting Porter?"
"Why, what's the matter with Guitar?" asked Harry.
"Matter! He wears a nightgown just like a woman. Who ever heard of a man
wearing a nightgown?"[1]
[Footnote 1: A true incident.]
Harry exploded with laughter. "Many men wear nightgowns," he explained.
"I have no doubt but what General Schofield does. I reckon you will find
out that Guitar will fight."
During the day there had been two important arrivals in Jefferson City,
that of Lawrence Middleton and Dan Sherman. They had told Colonel Guitar
of the rapid concentration of the guerrilla bands all through the
counties north of the river, and had warned him to be on the lookout for
trouble. In fact, they had brought orders from General Schofield for him
to send two of his companies to Columbia, as it was thought that was the
place in greatest danger.
Lawrence and Dan were told of the danger that threatened Fulton, and
they determined to accompany Guitar in his expedition.
It was not until they were on the ferryboat crossing the river that
Harry was aware that Lawrence and Dan were of the number. He nearly went
wild on seeing them.
"And how is Bruno?" asked Lawrence.
"Bruno is all right. I sent him with a dispatch to Colonel Shaffer."
Hurry as fast as they could, it was long past midnight before the force
was across the river, and then there was a twenty-seven mile ride ahead
of them.
On the march Harry had an opportunity to tell Lawrence much that had
happened to him since they parted.
It was daylight when Fulton was reached, and, much to their relief, the
place had not been attacked, but the excitement ran high. Rumor had
increased Porter's force to two thousand. Colonel Guitar believed this
estimate to be much too high. So, small as his force was, only one
hundred and eighty, he determined to move out and attack Porter without
delay.
When this became known to the few Union inhabitants of Fulton they
implored Guitar not to do it. "Your force will be annihilated," they
exclaimed, "and Fulton will be at the mercy of the foe."
Lawrence agreed with Colonel Guitar. "We came here in the night," said
he. "Porter does not know how many men you brought. No doubt your force
is magnified, the same as his. Assuming the offensive will disconcert
him, and also prevent him receiving further reinforcements."
So it was decided, and the little force took up the march for Brown's
Springs, eleven miles away. Couriers were dispatched to find Colonel
Shaffer, for even if Bruno had succeeded in delivering Harry's message
Shaffer would march for Fulton instead of Brown's Springs.
It was about eleven o'clock when the column reached the vicinity of
Brown's Springs. Nothing as yet had been heard from Colonel Shaffer, but
Guitar determined to attack. Lawrence had been asked by Guitar to act as
his aid, to which he gladly assented.
Two or three small parties of guerrillas had been sighted, but they took
to the brush at the sight of the Federals.
The command now moved cautiously forward, but there was to be no battle.
Harry, who had been scouting in front, returned with the news that the
guerrillas had fled. Their camp was soon occupied. Everything showed a
rapid flight; even the would-be dinner of the guerrillas was found half
cooked.
Along in the afternoon Porter's force was located near Moore's Mill,
about four miles distant.
As Colonel Guitar's men had not slept a wink the night before, and as
both men and horses were tired out, the Colonel decided to camp, rest
his men and await the coming of Shaffer.
Why Porter fled from Brown's Springs and yet gave battle the next day,
after Shaffer had come up, will never be known. If he had fought at
Brown's Springs he would have had five men to Guitar's one. He may have
thought Shaffer was miles away. What Poindexter had told him would lead
him to believe this. And it would have been the case had it not been for
Harry and the faithful Bruno.
Every precaution was taken by Colonel Guitar to guard against a night
attack, but his little army was allowed to rest in peace.
During the night the couriers sent out to locate Shaffer reported. Bruno
had done his work well, but Shaffer had been miles farther away than
thought, and as had been requested by Harry in his report, had marched
for Fulton. He was yet ten miles away, and it would be impossible for
him to join Guitar before morning.
The morning came and with it Shaffer, and with him five hundred and
fifty men, eager for the combat. How Guitar's men did cheer when they
saw Shaffer coming.
Scouts reported that Porter still occupied his camp, and showed no sign
of moving. It looked as if he had resolved to stay and fight. Colonel
Guitar gave the order to move forward and attack. The advance had to be
carefully made, for the country was rough, wooded, and covered with a
dense undergrowth of bushes.
Harry now had Bruno with him, and leaving his horse, he, with the dog,
made his way to the front, in order to discover, as far as possible, the
plans and position of the enemy. So dense was the undergrowth he could
not see thirty feet ahead of him, but Bruno, as stealthy as a tiger in
the jungle, crept through the bushes ahead of him and more than once
gave him warning to turn aside his steps and take another direction. At
last he came to quite a hill, on the summit of which grew a tree with
branches close to the ground. Leaving Bruno to guard, Harry climbed the
tree, and to his satisfaction had a good view of the country. But what
he saw filled him with consternation.
The road on which the Federals were marching was narrow and on each side
lined with dense underbrush. Ahead of the Federal advance, the road
itself was clear, not a guerrilla in sight, but Porter had left his camp
and all his forces were stealthily creeping through the woods, and
concealing themselves in the bushes which lined the road.
Harry knew that that meant an ambuscade, and the Federal advance was
almost into it. In his eagerness he hardly knew whether he fell, jumped,
or swung himself down by the branches, but he was out of the tree and
tearing through the brush like a mad man to give warning.
He came to the road just as Colonel Guitar came along, riding at the
head of his column, the advance, consisting of twenty-five men of
Company E, Third Iowa Cavalry, being a short distance ahead.
"Halt the advance. Ambuscade," gasped Harry. He could say no more, as he
fell from exhaustion.
[Illustration: "Halt the advance. Ambuscade," gasped Harry.]
Guitar understood. "Halt," he cried, and to an aid, "Warn the advance."
The aid put spurs to his horse, but he was too late. Before he could
give warning there came a crashing volley from the jungle on the east
side of the road, the thicket burst into flame and smoke. It was an
awful, a murderous volley. Out of the twenty-five men who composed the
advance, hardly a man or horse escaped unscathed; all were killed or
wounded.
Swift and terrible as this blow was, it created no panic in Guitar's
little army. The road was narrow, thickets on each side. Nothing could
be done with cavalry. Quickly the order was given to dismount and send
the horses back in charge of every fourth man. Guitar then formed his
slender line in the edge of the thicket on the west side of the road,
with orders to hold until Shaffer came up, for Shaffer was still behind.
Hearing the sound of the conflict, Shaffer rushed forward, sent back his
horses, and along the road and through the tangled undergrowth the line
was formed and the battle became general.
The guerrillas displayed a bravery they seldom showed when engaged with
regular troops, and fought with determination and ferocity. They had the
advantage in position and numbers, but Guitar had the advantage in
having a couple of pieces of artillery. One of these pieces was brought
up by hand and planted in the road where it could sweep the woods in
which the guerrillas were concealed.
Hidden from view, the guerrillas crept up near, poured in a murderous
volley, and then raising a blood-curdling yell, dashed for the gun. Four
of the gunners had fallen before the volley, and for the time the gun
was silent. But behind the piece lay a line of sturdy cavalrymen. They
waited until the guerrillas had burst from the thicket and were within
forty feet of the gun, then sprang to their feet and poured a terrific
volley almost into the faces of the foe.
Staggering and bleeding, the guerrillas shrank back into the woods, but
only to rally and with fearful yells dash for the gun again. This time
they were not met by the cavalrymen alone, but the cannon belched forth
its deadly charge of canister in their faces.
When the four gunners fell at the first charge, Dan Sherman, seeing that
the piece was not manned, rushed forward and snatched the primer from
the dead hand of the man who was about to insert it when he fell. Dan
inserted the primer, pulled the lanyard and sent the contents of the gun
into the ranks of the enemy. Two of the artillerymen who had not been
injured came to his assistance, and again the gun was thundering forth
its defiance.
Through the chaparral Shaffer's men now pushed their way foot by foot.
It was a strange conflict. So dense was the undergrowth the line could
not be followed by the eye for thirty feet. No foe could be seen, but
the thickets blazed and smoked, and the leaden hail swept through the
bushes, tearing and mangling them as if enraged at their resistance.
The duty of Lawrence was a dangerous one. He had to break his way
through the thickets, see that some kind of a line was kept, and that
orders were being executed. While the men were sheltered by trees, logs
and rocks, he had to be exposed, but as if possessed of a charmed life,
he passed through unscathed.
Foot by foot the Federals dragged themselves forward, slowly pressing
the guerrillas back. At last, tired of fighting an unseen foe, the men
arose to their feet, and with a wild cheer sprang forward. Surprised,
the foe wavered, then broke. The flight became a panic, and they fled
terror-stricken from the field. The battle of Moore's Mill had been
fought and won.
There was no pursuit that night. The day had been intensely hot, and the
battle had raged from twelve noon until four. The soldiers, with
blackened, swollen faces and tongues, were fainting with thirst. Colonel
Guitar ordered his men to occupy the camp deserted by the foe. The dead
were to be buried, the wounded cared for.
So precipitously had the guerrillas fled that except the severely
wounded, few prisoners were taken. Porter had impressed upon his men
that to be captured by the Yankees meant certain death.
While searching the field Lawrence noticed some white object crawling
along like a large reptile. Upon investigation he found to his surprise
that it was a man, and entirely nude.
"Why are you without clothes?" asked Lawrence.
The man looked tip into Lawrence's face with a scared expression and
whined, "The guerrillas captured me, and they stripped me of my
clothing."
"Then you are a Federal soldier?" inquired Lawrence.
"Y-e-s," came the halting answer.
"You lie," exclaimed Lawrence. "You are one of the guerrillas."
The fellow then broke down, and, piteously begging for his life, said he
was one of Porter's men, and that he looked for nothing but death if
captured, so he had divested himself of his clothing, hoping to pass
himself off as a Federal.[2]
[Footnote 2: A true incident of the battle.]
Lawrence ordered him to be tenderly cared for, and tears of gratitude
ran down the fellow's face when he realised he was not to be murdered.
The battle of Moore's Mill, insignificant as it was compared to the
great battles of the war, was important in this: It frustrated the plans
of the conspirators, and was the beginning of a series of conflicts
which forever ended the hopes of the Confederates to recapture the State
by an uprising.
Colonel Guitar reported his loss in the battle as thirteen killed and
fifty-five wounded. The guerrilla loss he reported at fifty-two left
dead on the field and one hundred and twenty-five wounded.
In all the partisan battles in Missouri the guerrillas never reported
their losses, and only the reports of the Federal commanders are
accessible. In many cases no doubt these reports are exaggerated.