Altsheler Joseph Alexander
The Guns of Bull Run: A Story of the Civil War's Eve
"Carrington again," said Colonel Talbot, smiling and rubbing his hands. "You and your horsemen, Stuart, could never get a chance at the Northern recruits, unless you rode first over Carrington's guns. From whatever point you approached their muzzles would be sure to face you."
"The colonel is undoubtedly right about his friend Carrington," said St. Clair to Harry and Langdon. "I guess those guns scared us more than anything else."
Stuart and his command left them about midnight. A brilliant moon and a myriad of stars made the night so bright that Harry saw for a long time the splendid man on the splendid horse, leading his men to some new task. Then he lay down and slept heavily until dawn. They remained in the fort two days longer, and then came an order from Beauregard for them to abandon it, and rejoin the main army. The shifting of forces had now made the place useless to either side, and the Invincibles and their new comrades gladly marched back over the mountain and into the lowlands.
Harry found a letter from his father awaiting him. Colonel Kenton was now in Tennessee, where he had been joined by a large number of recruits from Kentucky. He would have preferred to have his son with him, but he was far from sure of his own movements. The regiment might yet be sent to the east. There was great uncertainty about the western commanders, and the Confederate resistance there had not solidified as it had in the east.
Harry expected prompt action on the Virginia field, but it did not come. The two armies lay facing each other for many days. June deepened and the days grew hot. Off in the mountains to the west there were many skirmishes, with success divided about equally. So far as Harry could tell, these encounters meant nothing. Their own battle at the fort meant nothing, either. The fort was now useless, and the two sides faced each other as before. Some of the Invincibles, however, were gone forever. Harry missed young comrades whom he had learned to like. But in the great stir of war, when one day in its effects counted as ten, their memories faded fast. It was impossible, when a boy was a member of a great army facing another great army, to remember the fallen long. Although the long summer days passed without more fighting, there was something to do every hour. New troops were arriving almost daily and they must be broken in. Intrenchments were dug and abandoned for new intrenchments elsewhere, which were abandoned in their turn for intrenchments yet newer. They moved to successive camps, but meanwhile they became physically tougher and more enduring.
The life in the open air agreed with Harry wonderfully. He had already learned from Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire how to take care of himself, and he and St. Clair and Langdon suffered from none of the diseases to which young soldiers are so susceptible. But the long delays and uncertainties preyed upon them, although they made no complaint except among themselves, and then they showed irony rather than irritation.
"Sleeping out here under the trees is good," said Langdon, "but it isn't like sleeping in the White House at Washington, which, as I told you before, I've chosen as my boarding house for the coming autumn."
"There may be a delay in your plans, Tom," said Harry. "I'd make them flexible if I were you."
"I intend to carry 'em out sooner or later. What's that you're reading, Arthur?"
"A New York newspaper. I won't let you see it, Tom, but I'll read portions of it to you. I'll have to expurgate it or you'd have a rush of blood to the head, you're so excitable. It makes a lot of fun of us. Tells that old joke, 'hay foot, straw foot,' when we drill. Says the Yankees now have three hundred thousand men under the best of commanders, and that the Yankee fleet will soon close up all our ports. Says a belt of steel will be stretched about us."
"Then," said Langdon, "just as soon as they get that belt of steel stretched we'll break it in two in a half dozen places. But go on with those feats of fancy that you're reading from that paper."
"Makes fun of our government. Says McDowell will be in Richmond in a month."
"Just the time that Tom gives himself to get into Washington," interrupted Harry. "But go on."
"Makes fun of our army, too, especially of us South Carolinians. Says we've brought servants along to spread tents for us, load our guns for us, and take care of us generally. Says that even in war we won't work."
"They're right, so far as Tom is concerned," said Harry. "We're going to give him a watch as the laziest man among the Invincibles."
"It's not laziness, it's wisdom," said Langdon. "What's the use of working when you don't have to, especially in a June as hot as this one is? I conserve my energy. Besides, I'm going to take care of myself in ways that you fellows don't know anything about. Watch me."
He took his clasp-knife and dug a little hole in the ground. Then he repeated over it solemnly and slowly:
"God made man and man made money;
God made the bee and the bee made honey;
God made Satan and Satan made sin;
God made a little hole to put the devil in."
"What do you mean by that, Tom?" asked Harry. "I learned it from some fellows over in a Maryland company. It's a charm that the children in that state have to ward off evil. I've a great belief in the instincts of children, and I'm protecting myself against cannon and rifles in the battle that's bound to come. Say, you fellows do it, too. I'm not superstitious, I wouldn't dream of depending on such things, but anyway, a charm don't hurt. Now go ahead; just to oblige me."
Harry and St. Clair dug their holes and repeated the lines. Langdon sighed with relief.
"It won't do any harm and it may do some good," he said.
They were interrupted by an orderly who summoned Harry to Colonel Talbot's tent. The colonel had complimented the boy on his energy and courage in bringing Stuart to his relief, when he was besieged in the fort, and he had also received the official thanks of General Beauregard. Proud of his success, he was anxious for some new duty of an active nature, and he hoped that it was at hand. Langdon and St. Clair looked at him enviously.
"He ought to have sent for us, too," said Langdon. "Colonel Talbot has too high an opinion of you, Harry."
"I've been lucky," said Harry, as he walked lightly away. He found that Colonel Talbot was not alone in his tent. General Beauregard was there also. "You have proved yourself, Lieutenant Kenton," said General Beauregard in flattering and persuasive tones. "You did well in the far south and you performed a great service when you took relief to Colonel Talbot. For that reason we have chosen you for a duty yet more arduous."
Beauregard paused as if he were weighing the effect of his words upon Harry. He had a singular charm of manner when he willed and now he used it all. Colonel Talbot looked keenly at the boy.
"You have shown coolness and judgment," continued Beauregard, "and they are invaluable qualities for such a task as the one we wish you to perform."
"I shall do my best, whatever it is," said Harry, proudly.
"You know that we have spent the month of June here, waiting," continued General Beauregard in those soft, persuasive tones, "and that the fighting, what there is of it, has been going on in the mountains to the west. But this state of affairs cannot endure much longer. We have reason to believe that the Northern advance in great force will soon be made, but we wish to know, meanwhile, what is going on behind their lines, what forces are coming down from Washington, what is the state of their defenses, and any other information that you may obtain. If you can get through their lines you can bring us news which may have vital results."
He paused and looked thoughtfully at the boy. His manner was that of one conferring a great honor, and the impression upon Harry was strong. But he remembered. This was the duty of a spy, or something like it. He recalled Shepard and the risk he ran. Spies die ingloriously. Yet he might do a great service. Beauregard read his mind.
"We ask you to be a scout, not a spy," he said. "You may ride in your own uniform, and, if you are taken, you will merely be a prisoner of war."
Harry's last doubt disappeared.
"I will do my best, sir," he said.
"No one can do more," said Beauregard.
"When do you wish me to start?"
"As soon as you can get ready. How long will that be? Your horse will be provided for you."
"In a half hour."
"Good," said Beauregard. "Now, I will leave you with Colonel Talbot, who will give you a few parting instructions."
He left the tent, but, as he went, gave Harry a strong clasp of the hand.
"Now, my boy," said Colonel Leonidas Talbot, when they were alone in the tent, "I've but little more to say to you. It is an arduous task that you've undertaken, and one full of danger. You must temper courage with caution. You will be of no use to our cause unless you come back. And, Harry, you are your father's son; I want to see you come back for your own sake, too. Good-bye, your horse will be waiting."
Harry quickly made ready. St. Clair and Langdon, burning with curiosity, besieged him with questions, but he merely replied that he was riding on an errand for Colonel Talbot. He did not know when he would come back, but if it should be a long time they must not forget him.
"A long time?" said St. Clair. "A long time, Harry, means that you've got a dangerous mission. We'll wish you safely through it, old fellow."
"And don't forget the charm!" exclaimed Langdon. "Of course I don't believe in such foolishness, I wouldn't think of it for a minute, but, anyway, they don't do any harm. Good-bye and God bless you, Harry."
"The same from me, Harry," said St. Clair.
The strong grip of their hands still thrilled his blood as he rode away. His pass carried him through the Southern lines, and then he went toward the northwest, intending to pass through the hills, and reach the rear of the Northern force. He carried no rifle, and his gray uniform, somewhat faded now, would not attract distant attention. Still, he did not care to be observed even by non-combatants, and he turned his horse into the first stretch of forest that he could reach.
Harry, being young, felt the full importance of his errand, but it was vague in its nature. He was to follow his own judgment and discover what was going on between the Northern army and Washington, no very great distance. When he was well hidden within the forest he stopped and considered. He might meet Federal scouts on errands like his own, but the horse they had given him was a powerful animal, and he had good weapons in his belt. It was Virginia soil, too, and the people, generally, were in sympathy with the South. He relied upon this fact more than upon any other.
The belt of forest into which he had ridden, ran along the crest of a hill, where the soil evidently had been considered too thin for profitable cultivation. Yet the growth of trees and bushes was heavy, and Harry decided to keep in the middle of it, as long as it continued northward in the direction in which he was going. He found a narrow path among the trees, and with his hand on a pistol butt he rode along it.
He expected to meet some one, but evidently the war had driven away all who used the path, and he continued in a welcome silence and desolation. Coming from an army where he always heard many sounds, this silence impressed him at last. Here in the woods there was a singular peace. The June sun had been hot that year in Virginia, but in the sheltered places the leaves were not burned. A moist, fresh greenness enclosed him and presently he heard the trickle of running water.
He came to a little brook, not more than a foot wide and only two or three inches deep, but running joyfully over its pebbly bottom. Both Harry and his horse drank of the water, which was cold, and then they went with the stream, which followed the slow downward slope of the hill toward the north. After a mile, he turned to the edge of the forest and looked over the valley. He caught his breath at the great panorama of green hills and of armies upon them that was spread out before him. Down there under the southern horizon were the long lines of his own people, and toward Washington, but much nearer to him, were the lines of a detachment of the Northern army. Between, he caught the flash of water from Bull Run, Young's Branch and the lesser streams. Behind the Northern force the sun glinted on a long line of bayonets and he knew that it was made by a regiment marching to join the others. The spectacle, with all the somber aspects of war, softened by the distance, was inspiring. Harry drew a long breath and then another. It was in truth more like a spectacle than war's actuality. He counted five colonial houses, white and pillared, standing among green trees and shrubbery. Smoke was rising from their chimneys, as if the people who lived in them were going about their peaceful occupations.
He turned back into the forest, and rode until he came to its end, two or three miles further on. Here the brook darted down through pasture land to merge its waters finally into those of Bull Run. Harry left it regretfully. It had been a good comrade with its pleasant chatter over the pebbles.
Two miles of open country lay before him, and beyond was another cloak of trees. He decided to ride for the forest, and remain there until dark. He would not then be more than fifteen miles from Washington, and he could make the remaining distance under the cover of darkness. He followed a narrow road between two fields, in one of which he saw a farmer ploughing, an old man, gnarled and knotty, whose mind seemed bent wholly upon his work. He was ploughing young corn, and although he could not keep from seeing Harry, he took no apparent notice of him.
The boy rode on, but the picture of the grim old man ploughing between the two armies lingered with him. The fence enclosing the two fields was high, staked, and ridered, and presently he was glad of it. He beheld on a hill to his right, about a half mile away, four horsemen, and the color of their uniforms was blue. He bent low over his horse that they might not see him, and rode on, the pulses in his temples beating heavily. He was glad that gray was not an assertive color, and he was glad that his own gray had been faded by the hot June sun.
Half way to the protecting wood he saw one of the men on the hill, undoubtedly an officer, put glasses to his eyes. Harry was sure at first that he had been discovered, but the man turned the glasses on Beauregard's camp, and the boy rode on unnoticed, praying that the same luck would attend him in the other half of the distance.
CHAPTER XIV
IN WASHINGTON
A quarter of a mile from the forest, the wood ascended considerably, throwing him into relief. He felt some shivers here, as he did not know who might be watching him. Field glasses were ugly things when a man was trying to hide. He glanced at the little group that he had seen on the hill, and he noticed now that the officer with the glasses was looking at him. But Harry was a long distance away, and he had the courage and prudence of mind to keep from falling into a panic. He did not believe that they could tell the color of his uniform at that range, but if he whipped his horse into a gallop, pursuit would certainly come from somewhere.
He rode slowly on, letting his figure sway negligently, and he did not look back again at the group on the hill, where the officer was watching him. But he looked from side to side, fearing that horsemen in blue might appear galloping across the fields. It was a supreme test of nerve and will. More than once he felt an almost irresistible temptation to lash his horse and gallop for the wood as hard as he could. That wood seemed wonderfully deep and dark, fit to hide any fugitive. But it had acquired an extraordinary habit of moving further and further away. He had to exert his will so hard that his hand fairly trembled on his bridle rein. Yet he remained master of himself, and went on sitting the saddle in the slouchy attitude that he had adopted when he knew himself to be observed.
The wood was only three or four hundred yards away, when far to his left he saw several horsemen appear on a slope, and he was quite sure that their uniforms were blue. The distance to the wood was now so short that the temptation to gallop was powerful, but he still resisted. Pride, too, helped him and he did not increase the pace of his horse a particle. He saw the dark, cool shadow very near now, and he thought he heard one of the new horsemen on his left shout to him. But he would not look around. Preserving appearances to the last, he rode into the forest, and its heavy shadows enveloped him.
He stopped a moment under the trees and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He was also seized with a violent fit of trembling, but it was over in a half minute, and then turning his horse from the path he rode into the densest part of the forest.
Harry felt an immense relief. He knew that he might be followed, but he did not consider it probable. It was more than likely that he passed for some countryman riding homeward. Martial law had not yet covered all the hills with a network of iron rules. So he rode on boldly, and he noticed with satisfaction that the forest seemed to be extensive and dense. Night, heavy with clouds, was coming, too, and soon he would be so well hidden that only chance would enable an enemy to find him.
In a half hour he stopped and took his bearings as best he could. It seemed to be a wild bit of country. He judged that it was ground cropped too much in early times, and left to grow into wilderness again. He was not likely to find anything in it save a hut or two of charcoal burners. It was a lonely region, very desolate now, with the night birds calling. The clouds grew heavier and he would have been glad of shelter, but he put down the wish, recalling to himself with a sort of fierceness that he was a soldier and must scorn such things. Moreover, it behooved him to make most of his journey in the night, and this forest, which ran almost to Washington, seemed to be provided for his approach.
He had fixed the direction of Washington firmly in his mind, and having a good idea of location, he kept his horse going at a good walk toward his destination. As his eyes, naturally strong, grew used to the forest, and his horse was sure of foot, they were able to go through the bushes without much trouble. He stopped at intervals to listen for a possible enemy—or friend—but heard nothing except the ordinary sounds of the forest.
By and by a wind rose and blew all the clouds away. A shining moon and a multitude of brilliant stars sprang out. Just then Harry came to a hillock, clear of trees, with the ground dipping down beyond. He rode to the highest point of the hillock and looked toward the east into a vast open world, lighted by the moon and stars. Off there just under the horizon he caught a gleam of white and he knew instinctively what it was. It was the dome of the Capitol in that city which was now the capital of the North alone. It was miles away, but he saw it and his heart thrilled. He forgot, for the moment, that by his own choice it was no longer his own.
Harry sat on his horse and looked a long time at that far white glow, deep down under the horizon. There was the capital of his own country, the real capital. Somehow he could not divest himself of that idea, and he looked until mists and vapors began to float up from the lowlands, and the white gleam was lost behind them. Then he rode on slowly and thoughtfully, trying to think of a plan that would bring rich rewards for the cause for which he was going to fight.
He had discovered something already. He had seen the bayonets of a regiment marching to join the Northern army, and he had no doubt that he would see others. Perhaps they would consider themselves strong enough in a day or two to attack. It was for him to learn. He was back in the forest and he now turned his course more toward the east. By dawn he would be well in the rear of the Northern army, and he must judge then how to act.
But all his calculations were upset by a very simple thing, one of Nature's commonest occurrences—rain. The heavy clouds that had gathered early in the night were gone away merely for a time. Now they came back in battalions, heavier and more numerous than ever. The shining moon and the brilliant stars were blotted out as if they had never been. A strong wind moaned and a cold rain came pouring into his face. The blanket that he carried on his saddle, and which he now wrapped around him, could not protect him. The fierce rain drove through it and he was soaked and shivering. The darkness, too, was so great that he could see only a few yards before him, and he let the horse take his course.
Harry thought grimly that he was indeed well hidden in the forest. He was so well hidden that he was lost even to himself. In all that darkness and rain he could not retain the sense of direction, and he had no idea where he was. He rambled about for hours, now and then trying to find shelter behind massive tree trunks, and, after every failure, going on in the direction in which he thought Washington lay. His shivering became so strong that he was afraid it would turn into a real chill, and he resolved to seek a roof, if the forest should hold such a thing.
It was nearly dawn when he saw dimly the outlines of a cabin standing in a tiny clearing. He believed it to be the hut of a charcoal burner, and he was resolved to take any risk for the sake of its roof. He dismounted and beat heavily upon the door with the butt of a pistol. The answer was so long in coming that he began to believe the hut was empty, which would serve his purpose best of all, but at last a voice, thick with sleep, called: "Who's there?"
"I'm lost and I need shelter," Harry replied.
"Wait a minute," returned the voice.
Harry, despite the beat of the rain, heard a shuffling inside, and then, through a crack in the door, he saw a light spring up. He hoped the owner of the voice would hurry. The rain seemed to be beating harder than ever upon him and the cold was in his bones. Then the door was thrown back suddenly and an uncommonly sharp voice shouted:
"Drop the reins! Throw up your hands an' walk in, where I kin see what you are!"
Harry found himself looking into the muzzle of an old-fashioned long-barreled rifle. But the hammer was cocked, and it was held by a pair of large, calloused, and steady hands, belonging to a tall, thin man with powerful shoulders and a bearded face.
There was no help for it. The boy dropped the reins, raised his hands over his head and walked into the hut, where the rain at least did not reach him. It was a rude place of a single room, with a fire-place at one end, a bed in a corner, a small pine table on which a candle burned, and clothing and dried herbs hanging from hooks on the wall. The man wore only a shirt and trousers, and he looked unkempt and wild, but he was a resolute figure.
"Stand over thar, close to the light, whar I kin see you," he said.
Harry moved over, and the muzzle of the rifle followed him. The man could look down the sights of his rifle and at the same time examine his visitor, which he did with thoroughness.
"Now, then, Johnny Reb," he said, "what are you doin' here this time o' night an' in such weather as this, wakin' honest citizens out o' their beds?"
"Nothing but stand before the muzzle of your rifle."
The man grinned. The answer seemed to appeal to him, and he lowered the weapon, although he did not relax his watchfulness.
"I got the drop on you, Johnny Reb; you're boun' to admit that," he said. "You didn't ketch Seth Perkins nappin'."
"I admit it. But why do you call me Johnny Reb?"
"Because that's what you are. You can't tell much about the color of a man's coat after it's been through sech a big rain, but I know yourn is gray. I ain't takin' no part in this war. They've got to fight it as best they kin without me. I'm jest an innercent charcoal burner, 'bout the most innercent that ever lived, I guess, but atween you an' me, Johnny Reb, my feelin's lean the way my state, Old Virginny, leans, that is, to the South, which I reckon is lucky fur you."
Harry saw that the man had blue eyes and he saw, too, that they were twinkling. He knew with infallible instinct that he was honest and truthful.
"It's true," he said. "I'm a Southern soldier, and I'm in your hands."
"I see that you trust me, an' I think I kin trust you. Jest you wait 'til I put that hoss o' yourn in the lean-to behind the cabin."
He darted out of the door and returned in a minute shaking the water from his body.
"That hoss feels better already," he said, "an' you will, too, soon. Now, I shet this door, then I kindle up the fire ag'in, then you take off your clothes an' put them an' yo'self afore the blaze. In time you an' your clothes are all dry."
The man's manner was all kindness, and the poor little cabin had become a palace. He blew at the coals, threw on dry pine knots, and in a few minutes the flames roared up the chimney.
Harry took off his wet clothing, hung it on two cane chairs before the fire and then proceeded to roast himself. Warmth poured back into his body and the cold left his bones. Despite his remonstrances, Perkins took a pot out of his cupboard and made coffee. Harry drank two cups of it, and he knew now that the danger of chill, to be followed by fever, was gone.
"Mr. Perkins," he said at length, "you are an angel."
Perkins laughed.
"Mebbe I air," he said, "but I 'low I don't look like one. Guess ef I went up an' tried to j'in the real angels Gabriel would say, 'Go back, Seth Perkins, an' improve yo'self fur four or five thousand years afore you try to keep comp'ny like ours.' But now, Johnny Reb, sence you're feelin' a heap better you might tell what you wuz tryin' to do, prowlin' roun' in these woods at sech a time."
"I meant to go behind the Yankee army, see what reinforcements were coming up, find out their plans, if I could, and report to our general."
Perkins whistled softly.
"Say," he said, "you look like a boy o' sense. What are you wastin' your time in little things fur? Couldn't you find somethin' bigger an' a heap more dangerous that would stir you up an' give you action?"
Harry laughed.
"I was set to do this task, Mr. Perkins," he said, "and I mean to do it."
"That shows good sperrit, but ef I wuz set to do it I wouldn't. Do you know whar you are an' what's around you, Johnny Reb?"
"No, I don't."
"Wa'al, you're right inside o' the Union lines. The armies o' Patterson an' McDowell hem in all this forest, an' I reckon mebbe it wuz a good thing fur you that the storm came up an' you got past in it. Wuz you expectin', Johnny Reb, to ride right into the Yankee pickets with that Confedrit uniform on?"
"I don't know exactly what I intended to do. I meant to see in the morning. I didn't know I was so far inside their lines."
"You know it now, an' if you're boun' to do what you say you're settin' out to do, then you've got to change clothes. Here, I'll take these an' hide 'em."
He snatched Harry's uniform from the chair, ran up a ladder into a little room under the eaves, and returned with some rough garments under his arm.
"These are my Sunday clothes," he said. "You're pow'ful big fur your years, an' they'll come purty nigh fittin' you. Leastways, they'll fit well enough fur sech times ez these. Now you wear 'em, ef you put any value on your life."
Harry hesitated. He wished to go as a scout, and not as a spy. Clothes could not change a man, but they could change his standing. Yet the words of Perkins were obviously true. But he would not go back. He must do his task.
"I'll take your clothes on one condition, Mr. Perkins," he said, "you must let me pay for them."
"Will it make you feel better to do so?"
"A great deal better."
"All right, then."
Harry took from his saddle bags the purse which he had removed from his coat pocket when he undressed, and handed a ten dollar gold piece to the charcoal burner.
"What is it?" asked the charcoal burner.
"A gold eagle, ten dollars."
"I've heard of 'em, but it's the first I've ever seed. I'm bound to say I regard that shinin' coin with a pow'ful sight o' respeck. But if I take it I'm makin' three dollars. Them clothes o' mine jest cost seven dollars an' I've wore 'em four times."
"Count the three dollars in for shelter and gratitude and remember, you've made your promise."
Perkins took the coin, bit it, pitched it up two or three times, catching it as it fell, and then put it upon the hearth, where the blaze could gleam upon it.
"It's shorely a shiner," he said, "an' bein' that it's the first I've ever had, I reckon I'll take good care of it. Wait a minute."
He picked up the coin again, ran up the ladder into the dark eaves of the house, and came back without it.
"Now, Johnny Reb," he said, "put on my clothes and see how you feel."
Harry donned the uncouth garb, which fitted fairly well after he had rolled up the trousers a little.
"You'd pass for a farmer," said Perkins. "I fed your hoss when I put him up, an' as soon as the rain's over you kin start ag'in, a sight safer than you wuz when you wore that uniform. Ef you come back this way ag'in I'll give it to you. Now, you'd better take a nap. I'll call you when the rain stops."
Harry felt that he had indeed fallen into the hands of a friend, and stretching himself on a pallet which the charcoal burner spread in front of the fire, he soon fell asleep. He awoke when Perkins shook his shoulder and found that it was dawn.
"The rain's stopped, day's come an' I guess you'd better be goin'" said the man. "I've got breakfast ready for you, an' I hope, boy, that you'll get through with a whole skin. I said that both sides would have to fight this war without my help, but I don't mind givin' a boy a hand when he needs it."
