CHAPTER IVTHE FIRE OF TEMPTATION
Captain de Banyan sauntered gracefully up the saloon, with Somers at his side. He appeared to be perfectly at home, and to have all the ease and finish of a thorough man of the world. His movements were calculated to make a sensation; and, as he passed along, old topers and gay young bloods paused to glance at him. If the captain had been in command of the Army of the Potomac, his elevated position would hardly have justified a more extensive flourish than he made.
Lieutenant Somers was duly impressed by the magnificence of his companion, though the surroundings of the place created some painful misgivings in his mind. The captain sat down at one of the little tables where the frequenters of the saloon who were disposed to prolong the enjoymentof their drams discussed “juleps,” “cobblers,” and other villainous compounds.
Somers could not do less than seat himself at the other side of the table. He was ill at ease, even while he was endeavoring to seem indifferent and at home. I am sorry to say he was haunted by that abominable bugbear which often takes possession of the minds of young men when they find themselves in the presence of those who are adepts in the arts of vice—a fear of being thought “green,” “verdant,” or being measured by some other adjective used in fast circles to caricature the innocence of a soul unsullied by contact with the vices and follies of the city. He half expected that some of the dissolute young wretches who were drinking, swearing, and pouring the filth of a poisoned mind from their lips, would ask him if “his mother knew he was out.” He tried to maintain his self-possession, and to seem at home where ruin was rioting in the souls of young men. If he did not entirely succeed, it was all the more to his credit.
“What will you take?” demanded Captain de Banyan, after they had sat at the table long enough to examine the prominent features of the saloon.
“Take a walk,” replied Lieutenant Somers.
“No, no! What will you drink?”
“Nothing, thank you. I’ve just been to supper, and don’t want anything.”
“Yes; but people who come in here, and listen to the music, are expected to patronize the establishment.I’m going to have a brandy smash: shall I order one for you?”
“No, I thank you.”
“But I can’t drink alone.”
“I never drink.”
“Nonsense! A lieutenant in our regiment, and not drink! I see! You haven’t learned yet; but it won’t take you long. Your case is exactly my own. I was about your age when I went to the Crimea, and didn’t know wine from brandy. After the battle of Balaclava, where I did some little thing which excited the admiration of the nobs in command, Lord Raglan sent for me, and invited me to take a glass of wine with him. Of course, I could not refuse his lordship, especially as he was in the very act of complimenting me for what he was pleased to call my gallant conduct. I drank my first glass of wine then. It was Sicily Madeira, and light, sweet wine; and, my dear fellow, you shall begin with the same, and we will drink the health of Senator Guilford and his fair daughter. Waiter, one brandy smash and one Sicily Madeira.”
“Really, Captain de Banyan, you must excuse me,” stammered Somers, completely bewildered by the eloquent and insinuating manners of his brilliant companion, who had spoken loud enough to attract the attention of a dozen idlers greedy for excitement of any kind, and to whom the latter part of his remarks seemed to be addressed, rather than to the timid young man in front of him.
Captain de Banyan appeared to have a point to carry; which was nothing less than to overcome the conscientious scruples of the young officer. He had spoken loud enough to attract the attention of these miserable tipplers, that Somers might be over-awed by their presence, and intimidated by their sneers, and thus compelled to taste the intoxicating cup. The squad of fast men who had taken positions near the table were interested in the scene, and impatient to see the pure soul tumbled from its lofty eminence.
“Here’s the nectar!” almost shouted the captain as the waiter placed the drinks upon the table. “Wine for you; brandy for me. You will be promoted to brandy one of these days, my boy, when your head is stronger and your nerves stiffer. Lieutenant Somers, here’s to the health of the patriot statesman, Senator Guilford, and his lovely daughter;” and the captain pushed aside the straw in the vile compound, and raised the glass to his lips.
Somers was embarrassed at his position, and bewildered by the dashing speeches of his companion. A dozen pair of leering eyes were fixed upon him; a dozen mouths were wrinkled into sottish smiles, called up by his sufferings at that critical moment. He reached forth his hand, and grasped the slender stem of the wine-glass; but his arm trembled more than that of the most hardened toper in the group before him. He had been trembling in the presence of that squad of tyrants—those leer-eyed grinningdebauchees, who seemed to be opening the gate of hell, and bidding him enter.
“Tom Somers,” said the still small voice which had spoken to him a thousand times before in the perils and temptations through which he had passed, “you have behaved yourself very well thus far. You have been promoted for bravery on the battlefield; and now will you cower in the presence of this brilliant brawler, and these weak-minded, cowardly tipplers? What would your mother say if she could see you now, with your shaking hand fastened to the wine-cup? What would Lilian Ashford say? Dare you drink the health of Emmie Guilford in such a place as this? You should have smote the lips that mentioned her name in such a presence!”
He drew back his hand from the glass. His muscles tightened up, as they had on the bloody field of Williamsburg. Tom Somers was himself again.
“Come, Somers, you don’t drink,” added the captain sarcastically.
“No, I thank you; I never drink,” he answered resolutely, as he cast a steady glance of pity and contempt at the bloated crew who had been reveling in his embarrassment.
“You won’t refuse now?”
“Most decidedly.”
“Lieutenant Somers, I took you for a young man of pluck. I’m disappointed. You will pardon me,my dear fellow; but I can’t help regarding your conduct as rather shabby.”
“I never drink, as I have said before, and I do not intend to begin now. If I have been shabby, I hope you will excuse me.”
“Certainly I will excuse you, when you atone for your folly, and drink with me.”
The spectators laughed, and evidently thought the captain had made a point.
“Then I can never atone for my folly, as you call it,” replied Somers, his courage increasing as the trial demanded it.
“What would Lord Raglan have said if I had refused to drink his Sicily Madeira?”
“Very likely he would have said just what you said; but there would have been no more sense in it then than now.”
“Bully for young ’un!” said a seedy dandy, whose love of fancy drinks had made a compromise with his love of dress.
“I will leave it to these gentlemen to decide whether I have not spoken reason and good sense.”
“I will leave you and thesegentlemento settle that question to suit yourselves, and I will bid you good-evening,” said Somers, rising from his chair.
The unpleasant emphasis which he placed upon the word “gentlemen” created a decided sensation among the group of idlers; and, as he stepped from behind the table, he was confronted by a young man with bloodshot eyes and bloated cheeks, but dressed in the extreme of fashion.
“Sir, you wear the colors of the United States Army,” said the juvenile tippler; “but you can’t be permitted to insult a gentleman with impunity.”
Lieutenant Somers wanted to laugh in the face of this specimen of bar-room chivalry, for he forcibly reminded him of a belligerent little bantam-rooster that paraded the barnyard of his mother’s cottage at Pinchbrook; but he was prudent enough not to give any further cause of offense. Bestowing one glance at this champion of the tippler’s coterie, he turned aside, and attempted to move towards the door.
“Stop, sir,” continued the young man, who plainly wanted to make a little capital out of a fight, in defense of the dignity of his friends. “You can’t go without an apology, or—or a fight,” added the bully, shaking his head significantly, as he placed himself in front of the young lieutenant.
“What am I to apologize for?” asked Somers.
“You insulted the whole party of us. You intimated that we were no gentlemen.”
“I haven’t spoken to any of you since I came in,” protested Somers. “I never had anything to do with you, and I don’t know whether you are gentlemen or not.”
“You hear that, gentlemen!” added the bully.
“I think I have said all that is necessary to say; with your leave I will go,” said Somers.
“Stop, sir!” snarled the young ruffian, putting his hand on the lieutenant’s collar.
“Take your hand off!” said he sternly.
The fellow complied.
“This thing has gone far enough, sir,” said Captain de Banyan, stepping between Somers and his assailant. “Lieutenant Somers is my friend; and, if you put the weight of your little finger upon him, I’ll annihilate you quicker than I did a certain Austrian field-marshal at the battle of Solferino. Gentlemen, permit me to apologize for my inexperienced friend if he has uttered any indiscreet word.”
“He must apologize!” blustered the young ruffian. “He says we are no gentlemen. Let him prove it.”
“You have proved it yourself, you little ape,” replied the captain, as he stepped up to the bar, and paid his reckoning, bestowing no more attention upon the ruffled little bully than if he had been a very small puppy; which perhaps he was not, by a strict construction of terms.
“I demand satisfaction!” roared the flashy little toper. “Apologize, or fight!”
“Neither, my gay and festive lark,” said the captain with abundant good humor, as he took Somers’s arm, and sauntered leisurely towards the door. “Now, my dear fellow, we will go and hear what Lieutenant-Colonel Staggerback has to say about the battle of Bull Run. I was in that action, and rallied the Fire Zouaves when Colonel Ellsworth was killed.”
“Colonel Ellsworth! He wasn’t killed at Bull Run!” exclaimed Somers, astonished beyond measureat the singular character which his companion was developing.
“You are right; he was killed at Ball’s Bluff.”
“I think not; but were you at Bull Run?”
“Certainly I was. I was on General Frémont’s staff.”
“Were you, indeed? Whew!”
“What may be the precise meaning of that whistle? Do you think I was not there?”
“Well, I don’t remember to have seen you there?”
“Very likely you did not; but you will call to mind the fact, that things were rather mixed up in that action. But never mind that: we will talk those things over when we get down upon the Peninsula, and have nothing else to think about. Do you really mean to say, my dear fellow, that you never drink at all?”
“I do not.”
“Well, I have heard of a man climbing up to the moon on a greased rainbow; but I never heard of an officer before that didn’t drink.”
“I’m afraid you haven’t been very careful in the choice of your companions. I know a great many that never taste liquor under any circumstances.”
“It may be so; and I am willing to confess that I have found one. I wouldn’t have believed it before if I had read it in the Constitution of the United States. I owe you an apology, then, for letting on in that saloon. I didn’t mean to hurtyour feelings, my dear fellow; but I thought you were joking.”
“I hope you will not repeat the experiment, then; though I shall consider myself fair game if I ever enter another rum-shop,” replied Somers.
They proceeded to the place designated for the lecture; and Captain de Banyan betrayed his interest in that memorable battle, where he had served on the staff of General Frémont, by going to sleep before the eloquent “participant” had got half-way through the exordium. Lieutenant Somers listened attentively until he was satisfied that Colonel Staggerback either was not in the battle, or that he had escorted “Bull Run Russell” off the field.
When the lecture was finished, Somers awakened his edified companion, and they returned to the hotel; though the captain hinted several times on the way that the “elephant” could be seen to better advantage in New York than in any other city in the Union. The young lieutenant had an utter disgust for the elephant, and took no hints. Before he retired that night, he thanked God, more earnestly and devoutly than usual, that he had been enabled to pass unscathed through the fires of temptation. He was still in condition to look his mother in the face.
CHAPTER VON THE SKIRMISH LINE
In the morning our travelers resumed their journey, more refreshed and in better condition for service than if they had spent the evening in chasing the “elephant” from one to another of the gilded dens of dissipation with which the metropolis abounds. In spite of his errors and sins, Somers could not help liking his dashing companion. He was a dangerous person; but his enthusiasm was so captivating, that he could not close his heart against him. But, while he liked the captain, he hated his vices.
They stopped in Philadelphia only long enough to dine, and in Baltimore only long enough for supper; arriving at Washington in the evening. Captain de Banyan again proposed to “go round;” which, rendered into unmistakable English, meant to visit the drinking-houses and gambling-saloons of the city, to say nothing of worse places. Lieutenant Somers had grown wise by experience; and no amount of persuasion could induce him to leave the hotel. It was horrible to him to think of spending even his leisure time in the haunts of dissipation, when his country was bleeding from a thousand wounds; when his gallant comrades in the Army of the Potomac were enduring peril andhardship in front of the enemy. He had no taste for carousing at any time, and every fiber of his moral nature was firmly set against the vices which lured on his reckless companion.
Lieutenant Somers stayed at the hotel that evening, listening to the conversation of the officers who had been at the front within a few days. The great battle of Fair Oaks had been fought during his absence, and there was every prospect that the most tremendous operations of the war would soon commence. He listened with the deepest interest to the accounts from the army, and needed none of the stimulus of the bar-room or the gambling-saloon to furnish him with excitement. He was soon to be an actor in the momentous events of the campaign; and the thought was full of inspiration, and lifted him up from the gross and vulgar tastes of his companion.
Before noon the next day, somewhat against the inclination of Captain de Banyan, the two officers were on board a steamer bound down the river. After some delays, they arrived at White House, on the Pamunkey River; and then proceeded by railroad nearly to the camp of the regiment, at Poplar Hill, in the very depths of White Oak Swamp.
“My blessed boy!” shouted Sergeant Hapgood when Lieutenant Somers appeared in the camp.
The veteran rushed upon him, and, not content to shake his hand he proceeded to hug him in the most extraordinary manner.
“I am glad to see you, Hapgood! How have you been since I left?” said Somers.
“First-rate! Bless my withered old carcass, Tom, but I thought I never should see you again. Why, Tom, how handsome you’ve grown! Well, you’ll be a brigadier one of these days, and there won’t be a better-looking officer on the field. Dear me, Tom—— Beg pardon; I forgot that you are an officer; and I mustn’t call you Tom any more.”
“Never mind that, uncle,” added Somers, laughing. “It would hardly be good discipline for a sergeant to call an officer by a nickname; but we will compromise, and you shall call me Tom when we are not on duty, and there is no one within hearing.”
“Compromise! Don’t never use that word to me. After we fit the battle of Bull Run, I gouged that word out of my dictionary. No, sir! You are a leftenant now; and I shall allus call you Leftenant Somers, even if there ain’t nobody within ten mile of us.”
“Just as you please, uncle; but, whatever you call me, we shall be just as good friends as we ever were.”
“That’s so, Leftenant Somers.”
“Precisely, Sergeant Hapgood.”
“Now, what’s the news in Pinchbrook?” asked the veteran.
But, before Somers had a chance to tell the news from home, he was welcomed to the camp, and cheered, by officers and men; and his account ofwhat had transpired in Pinchbrook during his thirty days’ furlough was eagerly listened to by a large and attentive audience. He received in return a full history of the regiment during his absence. Though the narrative of sundry exciting events, such as forays upon pig-sties, poultry-yards, and kitchen-gardens, was highly amusing, there was a tale of sadness to tell—of deaths by disease and on the battlefield.
Many cheerful hearts that were beating with life and hope a few weeks before, were now silent in the grave—the soldier’s mausoleum in a strange land. But soldiers have no time to weep over a dead past; they must live in the hope of a glorious future; and when they had dropped a tear to the memory of the noble and the true who had fallen on the field or died in the hospital, victims of the pestilential airs of the swamp, they laughed as merrily as ever, careless of Death’s poised arrows which were always aimed at them.
Captain de Banyan took his place in the regiment, where Somers found that he was prodigiously popular, even after a few hours’ acquaintance with his new command; but who he was, where he came from, and how he had procured his commission, was a mystery to officers and men. He told tremendous stories about the Crimea and the Italian war; and now for the first time intimated that he was the only survivor of the company which led the advance at the storming of Chapultepec, in the Mexican war. However much the officers enjoyedhis stories, it is not probable that all of them believed what they heard.
Lieutenant Somers was perfectly familiar with the company and battalion drill; and, having quick perception and abundant self-possession, he was competent at once to perform his duties as an officer. He had no vices to be criticized by the men, who respected him not only for his bravery on the battlefield, but for his good moral character; for even the vicious respect the virtues which they practically contemn. Being neither arbitrary nor tyrannical, he was cheerfully obeyed; and his company never appeared better than when, by the temporary absence of his superior, it was under his command.
He was, however, allowed but a short time to become acquainted with the routine of the new duty before he was summoned to participate in those tremendous events which have passed into history as at once the most brilliant and disastrous operations of the war; brilliant in that our gallant army was almost invariably victorious, disastrous in that they were the forerunners of the ultimate failure of a hopeful campaign. The victory at Fair Oaks had raised the hopes of that brave, thinking army.
The picket-lines were within a few miles of Richmond, and the soldiers were burning with enthusiasm to be led against the enemy in front of them. They were ready to lay down their lives on the altar of their bleeding country, if the survivorscould grasp the boon of peace within the buttressed walls of the rebel capital—peace that would hurl to the ground the defiant traitors, and insure the safety and perpetuity of free institutions. The notes of victory, those thinking soldiers believed, would reverberate through the coming ages, and point an epoch from which America would date her grandest and most sublime triumphs.
But not then was the great rebellion to be overthrown; for not yet had the leaven of Liberty leavened the whole lump; not yet had the purposes of a mysterious Providence been accomplished; and the brave men who sighed for victory and peace in the swamps of the Chickahominy were doomed to years of blood and toil, of victory and defeat, as they marched on, alike through both, to the consummation of a nation’s glorious triumph, not over paltry armies of arrogant traitors, but over the incarnation of Evil, over Heaven-defying institutions, whose downfall established forever principles as eternal as God Himself.
Lieutenant Somers was filled with the spirit of the army. He felt that the salvation of his country depended upon the valor of that army; and, impressed with the magnitude of the interests at stake, he was resolved to do his whole duty. With cheerful alacrity he obeyed the summons which brought Grover’s brigade into line of battle on the morning of the eventful 25th of June. What was to be accomplished was not for him to know; but forward moved the line through the swamp,through the woods, through the pools of stagnant waters up to the hips of the soldiers.
Impressed by the responsibility of his position, Lieutenant Somers encouraged the weak as they struggled through the mire on their trying march, and with fit words stimulated the enthusiasm of all. After a march of about a mile, a heavy skirmish line was thrown out, which soon confronted that of the rebels.
“Now, Somers, my dear fellow, the concert is about to open,” said Captain de Banyan. “By the way, my boy, this reminds me of Magenta, where——”
“Oh, confound Magenta!” exclaimed Somers.
“Why, my dear fellow, you are as petulant as a belle that has lost her beau.”
“You don’t propose to tell us a story about Magenta at such a time as this, do you?”
“Well, I confess I have a weakness in that direction. Magenta was a great battle. But I’m afraid you are a little nervous,” laughed the captain.
“Nervous? Do you think I’m a coward?” demanded Somers.
“I know you are not; but you might be a little nervous for all that.”
At that instant, the sharp crack of a single rifle was heard, and Somers observed a slight jerk in the brim of the captain’s felt hat.
“Bravo!” exclaimed Captain de Banyan as he took off his hat, and pointed to a hole through which the rifle-ball had sped its way. “I’ll bet amonth’s pay that fellow couldn’t do that again without making a hole through my head. But that’s a singular coincidence. That’s precisely the place where the first bullet went through my hat at Solferino. At Magenta—ah! I see him,” added the captain, as he took a musket from the hands of one of his men. “I’ll bet another month’s pay that reb has fired his last shot.”
As he spoke, he raised the gun to his shoulder, and fired up into one of the trees. A crashing of boughs, a rattling of leaves followed; and a heavy body was heard to strike the ground.
“You owe me a month’s pay, Somers,” continued Captain de Banyan, as he handed the musket back to the soldier.
“I think not,” replied the lieutenant, trying to be as cool as his companion. “I never bet.”
“Just so. I forgot that you were an exceedingly proper young man.”
The skirmish-line, which had paused a moment for an observation to be taken, now moved forward again. The rebel skirmishers were discovered, and the order was given to fire at will. The enemy’s sharpshooters were posted in the trees, and they began to pour in a galling fire upon a portion of the line.
“Steady, my men!” said Somers, when the firing commenced. “Gunpowder’s expensive; don’t waste it.”
“Not a single grain of it, Leftenant Somers,” added Sergeant Hapgood.
“There, uncle!—up in that tree!” said Somers, pointing to a grayback, who was loading his rifle, about twenty feet from the ground.
“I see him!” replied the sergeant as he leveled his piece, and fired.
The rebel was wounded, but he did not come down; and the captain of the company ordered his men to move forward. From the thunder of the artillery and the rattle of musketry, it was evident that heavy work was in progress on the right and left.
“Forward, men!” said Somers, repeating the order of Captain Benson.
The men were scattered along an irregular line, and firing into the bushes, which partially concealed the rebel skirmishers. Somers’s platoon advanced a little more rapidly than the rest of the line, being favored with a few rods of dry ground. He had urged them forward for the purpose of dislodging three sharpshooters perched in a large tree.
“Come down, rebs!” shouted Somers, as he reached the foot of the tree, and told half a dozen of his men to point their guns towards them.
“What d’ye say, Yank?” demanded one of them.
“Will you come down head first, or feet first? Take your choice quick!” replied the lieutenant.
“As you seem to be in arnest, we’ll come down the nateral way.”
They did come down without a more pressinginvitation, and were disarmed, ready to be sent to the rear.
CHAPTER VITHE REBEL SHARPSHOOTERS
“Lieutenant Somers, I don’t think I can stand it much longer,” said Phineas Deane, a private, who had joined the regiment a few days before the battle, as he saluted his officer.
“Can’t stand what?”
“The fact on’t is, lieutenant, I’m sick. I haven’t felt well for two or three days. I come out here to fight for my country, and I want to do some good. I might help take them prisoners back, if you say so.”
“Sick, are you? What’s the matter?”
“I’ve got a bad pain in the bowels,” replied Phineas, as he placed himself on the right side of a tree, and glanced uneasily in the direction of the rebel skirmish line. “I’m subject to sich turns, but allus git over ’em if I have a chance to lay down for a few hours.”
“Oh, well, you can lie down here!” added Somers, who understood the case pretty well.
“What! down here in the mud and water? Wal, that would be rather steep for a sick man,” said Phineas, with a ghastly smile, as he glanced again towards the enemy.
“I will get some medicine for you. Here, uncle, let me have one of your powders,” continued the lieutenant, addressing old Hapgood.
“Sartin; they’ve done me heaps of good, and I’m sure they’re just the thing for that man.”
Somers took one of the powders, and opened the paper.
“Now, my man, open your mouth, and let me give you this medicine,” he added.
“What kind of medicine is it?”
“It’ll make you kinder sick to the stomach; but it’ll cure you in less’n half an hour.”
“Well, lieutenant, I don’t know as I want to take any medicine,” answered poor Phineas, who was not prepared for this active treatment; though he would have taken it quick enough if he could be sent to the rear. “I guess I don’t keer about takin’ on it.”
“You needn’t, if you don’t want to get well.”
“I only want to go back to camp, and lay down for a spell.”
“We can’t spare you just yet, Phineas; but, if you don’t stir yourself, you will lie down here somewhere, and never get up again,” added Somers, as a shower of bullets passed over their heads. “Forward, boys!”
The captain detailed a couple of men to conduct the prisoners to the rear, and the company pressed forward. The rebel sharpshooters were dislodged from the trees; a few prisoners were captured; but the heavy fighting and the heavy losses fell uponother portions of the line. The rebels had been forced back, and the movement seemed to be a success. Half the regiment moved out of the woods, while the rest remained under the trees; when a halt was ordered. Somers found himself near an old house, behind which a number of rebel sharpshooters had concealed themselves for the purpose of picking off the Union soldiers.
The firing in the immediate vicinity had diminished, though the din of battle resounded on both sides. The boys were rather nervous, as men are when standing idle under fire; but it was the nervousness of restrained enthusiasm, not of fear, unless it was in the case of invalid Phineas, and a very few others whose physical health had not been completely established.
“Well, Somers, my dear boy, how do you get on?” asked Captain de Banyan, as he sauntered leisurely up to the lieutenant, whose command stood next to his own.
“First-rate; only I should like to have something a little more active than standing here.”
“It takes considerable experience to enable a man to stand still under fire. When I was at the battle of Alma, I learned that lesson to a charm. We stood up for forty-two hours under a fierce fire of grape and canister, to say nothing of musketry.”
“Forty-two hours!” exclaimed Somers. “I should think you would all have been killed off before that time.”
“In our regiment, only one man was killed; andhe got asleep, and walked in his dreams over towards the enemy’s line.”
“Captain, you can tell a bigger story than any other man in the army,” said Somers, laughing.
“That’s because I have seen more of the world. When you have been about as much as I have, you will know more about it.”
“No doubt of it.”
“I should be very happy to be more actively employed just now; but I am very well contented where I am.”
The position they occupied enabled the two officers to see some sharp fighting along the line. Through an opening at the right, they saw a rebel regiment, wearing white jackets, or else stripped to their shirts, march at double-quick, in splendid order, with arms at “right shoulder shift,” to the scene of action. It was probably some volunteer body from Richmond, whom the ladies of the rebel capital had just dismissed, with sweet benedictions, to sweep the “foul Yankees” from the face of the earth. They were certainly a splendid body of men; and the ladies might well be proud of them. They went into the field in good style, with the blessings of the fair still lingering fondly in their ears. But one volley from the veterans of the Army of the Potomac was enough for them, and they gave way, running off the field in wild disorder, threading their way in terror through the bushes, every man for himself. It is not likely thatthey were welcomed back from the gory field by the frothy feminine rebels of Richmond.
“That’s just the way the Russians ran at Palestro!” exclaimed Captain de Banyan, as he watched the exciting scene.
“The Russians at Palestro!” added Somers, “I think you have got things a little mixed, captain.”
Before this difficult question could be settled, Captain de Banyan was ordered to take a sufficient force, and drive out the rebels who were skulking behind the old house.
“Somers, you shall go with me,” said he, when he had received his orders from the colonel. “We’ll do a big thing, if there is any chance.”
“I am ready for anything, big or little, captain,” replied Somers heartily. “What shall I do?”
“March your men over by that little knoll, and come round on the other side of the house; I will move up in another direction, and we will bag the whole squad. But mind you, Somers, the enemy are round that way; don’t let them gobble you up or lay you out.”
“I will do the best I can, captain.”
“Angels could do no more.”
The lieutenant advanced, with the men detailed for the purpose, towards the hillock. By taking a circuitous route, he avoided the observation of the rebels behind the house, and reached the other side of the knoll, where, behind the friendly shelter of a clump of bushes, he was enabled to survey theground. Not more than a quarter of a mile distant he discovered the rebel breastworks. It was about the same distance to the house.
Between the knoll and the house there was a small patch of wheat, which, by some chance, had escaped the havoc of foraging parties. Though the grain was not full-grown, it would afford concealment to his men. In order to reach it, he must expose his men to a volley from the rifle-pits, or from any body of rebels which might be posted in the vicinity. He could not afford to lose a single man, and he was perplexed to determine how he should overcome the distance between the wheat-field and the knoll.
It seemed to him very singular that he had not already been fired upon; and he concluded that it was because his party had been mistaken for rebels, or because some of their troops were between him and the Union lines. Whether the enemy had been deceived or not, he was fully determined to afford them no further information in regard to his politics, if any of them had seen him. He therefore ordered his men to take off their coats, which some of them had done before they started on the expedition. The blue trousers could not be so easily disposed of; but as some of the boys had straw hats, some felt, and some caps, it would have been hard to determine what they were at the distance of a quarter of a mile, especially as some of the Confederates wore the plundered clothing of the Union army.
After instructing his force in regard to their future conduct, he marched them boldly into the open space. To assist the deception, he directed one of his men to halt occasionally, and point his musket in the direction of the Union pickets. Not a shot was fired at them; and when the young lieutenant reached the wheat-field he fancied that he was clever enough for any brigadier in the rebel army.
It was desirable that the rebel sharpshooters at the house should not be alarmed; and, when his men reached the grain, Somers ordered them to get down upon their hands and knees, and creep cautiously towards the point to be assailed. The lieutenant, like a good officer, led the way himself, and had advanced about half the distance to be accomplished, when he heard a rustling noise in the grain before him. It was an ominous sound, and he paused to take an observation. He could not see anything without standing up; and, as he was within twenty rods of the house, it was necessary to avoid exposing himself.
From whatever source the sounds proceeded, it was just as safe to advance as it was to retreat; and he decided to go forward. With the utmost caution, he continued to creep along through the wheat; but he was careful to assure himself that his men’s muskets and his own revolver were in condition for instant use. After he had gone a few rods farther, the sounds were more apparent; and,with no little consternation, he heard voices, rich with an unmistakable Southern accent.
“I tell you, more of our fellers is coming through the grain. You mought hear ’em, ef you weren’t deafer’n a dead nigger.”
“I heerd ’em. You kin bet yer life they’re some of our pickets. Howsomever, I’m gwine to see.”
“Hush, my men! don’t speak a word!” whispered the young lieutenant. “Lie flat on the ground.”
The rebels were nearer than he had supposed; for, as he turned from his men, he discovered a wiry grayback, with the chevrons of a sergeant on his arms, trying to stare him out of countenance. The fellow did not look wholesome; and Somers was in doubt whether to blow his brains out, or let things take their natural course.
“Who mought you be?” demanded the grayback, exhibiting more curiosity than of fear in his dirty face.
“One of the people,” replied Somers, disposed to avoid a direct issue. “Who are you?”
“I’m one of the people too,” grinned the rebel.
“I see you are; and I suppose you belong to the army, don’t you?”
“Bet your life I do.”
“Of course you won’t object to telling me which army you belong to, as there may be some difference of opinion between us.”
“’Tain’t no use to ask a officer dressed in blue,and lookin’ as spruce as you be, whar he kim from. I say, Yank, what are you uns doin’ in hyar?”
“Only taking a look.”
“You’re as civil as a Mobile dancin’-master; and I axes yer, very perlite, to surrender.”
“How many men have you got, reb?” demanded the lieutenant, as he put his hand on his revolver.
“See hyar, Yank; play fair. You uns allers cheat playin’ poker. Don’t tech yer shooter yet,” replied the grayback coolly, as he thrust the muzzle of his gun in the lieutenant’s face. “Two kin play at that game, and your wife or mine will be a lone widder quicker’n a coon kin wink at the moon. I’ve got seven men,” he added.
“I have twenty-three,” said Somers.
“Then yer kin whip us if yer be Yanks; for three of you uns can just lick one of we uns.”
“That’s good logic. Will you surrender, or fight?” demanded Somers.
“Let me count your men. I surrender,” he continued, after he had stood up, and counted the Union soldiers. “Here’s my shooter; fair play, even with Yanks.”
Leaving a guard of eight men with his prisoners when they were disarmed, Somers hastened forward to complete his mission.
CHAPTER VIIAN EXPEDITION IN FRONT
The affair in the wheat-field had been conducted very quietly, and apparently had not attracted the attention of any of the rebels in the vicinity. During the brief parley, the thunder of the battle had sounded on the right and left of the parties. The enemy were in force in their works, and it was believed that there were squads of pickets in every place of concealment which the ground afforded.
Somers was very much surprised to find that he was not molested, and made all possible haste to carry out the programme with which he had been intrusted by Captain de Banyan. Followed by the balance of his men, he crept carefully towards the house till he had reached the end of the grain-field. He could see about a dozen rebels skulking behind the building, all of them so intent upon getting a shot at the Union soldiers, that they paid no attention to the events transpiring in the rear of them; probably deeming it impossible for an enemy to approach in that direction.
The lieutenant had but fifteen men left to execute his part of the scheme, and there seemed to be double that number of graybacks lurking in and about the house. Everything depended upon his effecting the requisite junction with the force of the captain. As his superior had but a short distanceto march, it was probable that he was already in position to support him; and he decided to make the attack without permitting any delay to rob him of the chances of success.
“Now, double-quick, forward!” shouted Somers, as he rose from the ground, and led the way to a position where he could intercept the retreat of the rebels.
Agreeably to the instructions previously given, his men stretched out into an extended line, and commenced firing at will upon the luckless graybacks who were in sight. It did not take them long to find out that they were assailed by a fire in the rear.
“Surrender!” shouted Captain de Banyan, who at this moment appeared at the head of his men.
The rebels were not disposed to accept this polite invitation, but began to fall back from the house in good order. They discharged their pieces at the force in front, and then started at a run to effect their escape in the opposite direction. They forgot for the moment that they had been fired upon from the rear, or else thought that the fire had been directed by some of their own people at the Yankees who had so suddenly attacked in front.
“Surrender!” shouted Lieutenant Somers, as the retreating rebels approached his line.
They halted at this unexpected summons. The officer in command of them took a hasty survey of the situation, and then ordered his troops to cut their way through the thin line between them andthe rebel field-works. The commander of the rebel pickets was a gallant fellow; and, drawing his sword, he rushed towards the spot where the lieutenant was stationed. Discharging his pistol with the left hand at Somers, he dashed forward like a festive horse.
Both parties had discharged their guns, and there was no time to reload them. Some of the rebels had bayonets, and some had not; and, with the fury of their brave leader, they attempted to break their way through the line. A sharp but very irregular conflict ensued, the rebels clubbing their muskets or grappling with the Union soldiers, each according to his individual taste. As they were two to one of the Federals, they would certainly have won the field if Captain de Banyan had not promptly come to the rescue.
The excited rebel officer manifested a most persistent desire to revenge his misfortunes upon Lieutenant Somers. After he had fired his pistol twice, and one of the balls had passed through his opponent’s cap, the latter, by a sudden dash, knocked the weapon from his hand with his sword. He then attempted to use his own sword, and, if Somers had not been a “master of fence,” would probably have run him through the body. Some hard blows were struck with these weapons, and the age of chivalry, when men fought hand to hand with trusty blades, seemed to be revived. But the sword of the rebel officer was not so trusty as it ought to have been. It was not a regulationsword; and, while its owner was flourishing it most valiantly, the blade flew away from the handle.
“Now, surrender!” said Somers, out of breath with the violence of his exertions, as he drew from his belt the pistol which, being so hard pressed, he had not been able to use before.
“Never, sir! I don’t surrender! I was sent here to fight, and not to surrender!” replied the officer, as proudly as though he had been in command of a beleaguered fortress, instead of a squad of two or three dozen men.
Somers had him at his mercy, and it seemed but little better than murder to shoot him in his defenseless state.
That was a bad mistake on his part; for the rebel officer at once proceeded to prove that he was no effeminate character, who depended upon a sword, pistol, or other weapon, to fight his battles with, but could, if occasion required, defend himself with his naked arm. He sprang upon Somers with the ferocity of a tiger. The latter fired; but the sudden movement of the former impaired his aim, and the ball whistled harmlessly over the head of the rebel. The desperate officer attempted to gain possession of the pistol; but Somers, now thoroughly aroused to a sense of his own danger, sprang at the throat of his antagonist, and, by the fierceness of the dash, bore him to the earth. His victim struggled to escape; and, being a stronger man than the other, would certainly have succeeded, if Somers had not picked up his pistol,which lay on the spot where they fell, and struck a blow with the butt of it on the temple of the rebel. This effectually quieted him; but the lieutenant’s little force were falling back before the furious assaults of the graybacks.
He had only time to get up before the rebels were upon him. At this interesting and critical moment, Captain de Banyan came up with his large force; and the enemy, finding themselves pressed in front and rear, gave up in despair. They were disarmed; and, those from the wheat-field being brought forward, the whole squad were marched in the direction of the Union line.
About one-half of Somers’s men were wounded, though some but slightly. These were sent back. The rebel officer lay insensible upon the ground; but Somers, satisfied that he was only stunned, desired to carry him off, not only as a trophy of his prowess, but because such a desperate fellow would be less dangerous in a prison-camp than in the lines of the rebels. He directed two of his men to bear the insensible form to the house, whither they were followed by the remainder of the force.
“Somers, my dear fellow, give me your hand,” said Captain de Banyan, as soon as the pressing business of the moment had been disposed of. “You have covered yourself with glory.”
“Pooh!” replied Somers, trying to look indifferent. “I have only done my duty, and obeyed my orders.”
“That’s very true; but, if you had been weak inthe knees, you couldn’t very well have obeyed orders. Somers, you have done a big thing; and, in my judgment, you ought to be promoted.”
“Promoted for that?”
“In the battle of Magenta——”
“Oh, confound the battle of Magenta!” exclaimed Somers, interrupting him. “I will give you a handsome present if you will never say Magenta to me again.”
“Don’t be petulant, my dear boy! You have got a sweet temper naturally, and I hope you won’t spoil it.”
“I am afraid you will spoil it for me.”
“I was only saying pleasant things to you, and you fly off and roll yourself up in your dignity like a little hedgehog. By the way, Somers, don’t you suppose that Senator Guilford will hear of this affair?”
“I hope not.”
“Nor that little lady we left all used up with a broken arm?”
“I don’t care whether she does or not.”
“Or that other little lady who knits socks for soldiers that don’t run away in battle?”
Somers blushed like a maiden, and his experienced companion saw that he had touched the tender spot in his heart. Very likely the captain would have said something more on this interesting subject, if the conversation had not been interrupted by their arrival at the old house. Here they were met by a messenger from the colonel, orderingthe detachment to hasten back; for orders had come for the brigade to retire to their old position.
The wounded and the prisoners were conducted safely back to the line in the woods, where our party were warmly congratulated upon their decided success. The brigade fell back, but were immediately ordered forward again, and held the advanced position which had been so gallantly won. It was not a very comfortable place; for the soldiers stood over shoes in the water. Late in the evening, our regiment was relieved by another, and ordered back to the breastworks in the rear. It had lost but few men, though torrents of loyal blood had flowed on that eventful day.
The action of that day was the initial conflict of the seven-days’ battles. General McClellan actually commenced his long-deferred operations against the city of Richmond. But the favorable moment had passed by, and even then the battalions of the rebels were gathering in readiness to be hurled upon our devoted army. While the regiment, whose fortunes have been more intimately connected with our story, was retiring from the pestiferous swamp, the commanding general received information of the approach of Stonewall Jackson. These proved to be sad tidings; for the anticipated triumphal march into the rebel capital was changed into a bloody but glorious retreat. The battles which were to be fought for a victorious advance were made to cover a disastrousdefeat—disastrous to the campaign, though not to the army.
Fatigued, hungry and chilled by the night damps of the swamp, the regiment threaded its way through the intricacies of the woods towards the breastworks in the rear. It was a dark and gloomy hour, though theprestigeof victory dwelt in the souls of the gallant soldiers. The officers were not familiar with the ground; and with difficulty they found their way back to the old line.
“Well, Somers, how do you feel?” asked Captain de Banyan when the regiment was dismissed.
“I’m all worn out. I haven’t got toughened to this kind of work yet,” replied Somers.
“Don’t give it up yet, my boy. We shall be in Richmond in less than a week, and then we will take rooms at the Spottswood House, and have a good time.”
“Do you believe we shall ever get into Richmond, captain?”
“Certainly I do. Everything is working to my entire satisfaction. You feel a little blue, my boy; but it is only because you are tired. You will feel better in the morning.”
“I am tired, but I am not blue. I am ready to do my duty, in victory or defeat. There has been an awful roar of guns all day, and no one can tell what the result of a battle will be.”
“An awful roar of guns! ’Pon my word, I like that,” laughed the captain. “Why, at Magenta——”
“Magenta again!” sneered Somers, who was heartily sick of that word.
“Yes, at Magenta! If you could only have heard the guns there! Why, there were seven thousand two hundred and forty-six pieces rattling away like mad on our side alone; and I believe the Russians——”
“Russians at Magenta again! I don’t believe you were at the battle of Magenta any more than I was!” exclaimed Somers desperately.
“Do you mean to tell me that I lie?” asked the captain gravely.
“Go on with your story,” said the lieutenant, fearing that he had said too much.
“Answer my question, if you please. You gave me the lie; did you not?”
“No; I didn’t use that word.”
“You said you didn’t believe I was at the battle of Magenta.”
“To be perfectly candid with you, I don’t believe it; but I am tired, and want my supper,” answered Somers, wishing to escape the issue which he had provoked.
“Fair play, my boy. You charged me with lying—indirectly—but not the less offensively on that account. Don’t dodge the question.”
“I haven’t dodged it. I gave you my candid opinion that you were not present at Magenta; and I don’t think there is an officer in the regiment who believes you were there.”
“Isn’t the word of an officer and a gentleman to be accepted?”
“Certainly, if he keeps within the bounds of reason; but when you talk about the Russians at Magenta, and over seven thousand cannons in a single army, we know that you are either ‘drawing the long-bow,’ or laboring under some strange delusion. Supper is ready.”
“We can eat and talk too.” And they did. “May I be allowed to ask, Lieutenant Somers, if you deem my statement inconsistent with reason?”
“To be sure I do. We have six guns to a battery; seventy-two hundred guns would make twelve hundred batteries. We have about one hundred and fifty men to a battery, which would make one hundred and eighty thousand men in the artillery arm alone; which is positively ridiculous. You said Russians——”
“Of course, that was a slip of the tongue. I meant Prussians,” added the captain, entirely overwhelmed by the lieutenant’s arithmetic, as well as by the laughter of Captain Benson and Lieutenant Munroe, who belonged to the mess.
“Worse yet,” said Somers. “They were Austrians. Now, captain, you are a brave man, and a splendid fellow; but I think it is a great pity you should tell such abominably great stories.”
“I accept the apology,” laughed Captain de Banyan. “We will call it square, and turn in; for I think that we shall have hot work to-morrow.”