CHAPTER XXII.
The general was an indignant man when, late that afternoon, he heard thedetails of Shorty's misadventures, but the general was just. He knewthat battles had been lost and kingdoms ruined because of orders hastilyor carelessly worded. He might have known, as he said to the staff whendiscussing the incident, that if he "told that little bunch of springsand impetuosity to stop for nothing and put him on a hard-mouthed horseof similar temperament, the provost guard wouldn't have a picnic." Thegeneral knew he could not ignore the authority of the provost-marshal,but he might have known that Shorty would be little apt to stop forsergeants, corporals, or privates when told to stop for nothing.
Only a day or two before several generals and their staffs had anamusing illustration of Shorty's immense conception of his officialposition. A big working party from _the_ brigade was chopping trees inthe woods a mile up the Potomac, and a big pleasure party fromWashington was visiting General "Baldy" Smith on the opposite bank. Forthe entertainment and instruction of his guests this accomplishedofficer had ordered out a light battery, and with much precision thatbattery was driving shells into that very wood--and the axemen out.Bearing fragments of iron in his hands, the indignant officer in chargeof the work galloped in to his general to say that his party had had torun for their lives, and the work was at a stand. Shorty's horse stoodready saddled, so the general bade the boy orderly carry the fragments,with his compliments, to General Smith, and tell him the battery wasshelling his men, and Shorty and "Badger" went off like a shot. Over theChain Bridge they tore, to the amaze and disgust of certain sentrieslong accustomed to halting everybody that didn't wear a star, andstraight up to the brilliant group at head-quarters they galloped, andwith scant apology and only hurried salute, the youngster panted hismessage and exhibited his collaterals. The general listened withunruffled calm, inspected a fragment or two with professional gravityand interest, noted the fresh powder black on the fracture and concavesurface, passed them on to his visitors with some placid remark aboutthe force of the bursting charge, and, to Shorty's unspeakable wrath,appeared to be in no wise impressed with the peril to which he hadsubjected the men of a comrade brigade, and even less with the presenceof the bearer of the message. Shorty had counted on creating asensation, and he and "Badger" were the only ones to show the leastagitation. Bethinking himself of a supplementary remark of the officerwho brought in the news--and the fragments, the lad returned to theattack. "One shell burst so close to Captain Wood's head it almoststunned him, sir."
"Ah, did it?" queried the general, with provoking calm. "And was nobodyhurt?"
"Nobody was _hit_, sir," answered Shorty, with temper rising stillhigher. "But a dozen might have been."
"Ah, well, ride back and tell the general I'm glad nobody was hurt," wasBaldy's imperturbable ultimatum, and the lad spurred back in a fury. Ofcourse the firing was stopped, and later the generals grinned affablyover the incident, but Shorty's self-esteem was ruffled, and he told thesenior aide, to that officer's infinite delight, that further messagesto General Smith would "better be carried by some other man on thestaff," and of course that story went the rounds of both brigades, muchto the merriment of many a camp-fire, but not altogether to Shorty'sdetriment.
Now, if such was Shorty's conception of the gravity and importance ofhis duties when bearing a verbal message from one brigadier to a junior,what was not his immensity when a hastily written despatch, conveyingtidings of flood and disaster, was intrusted to him by the commander atthe front to be delivered to the general-in-chief in town. Shorty rodelike a demon that day, and even "Badger" was amazed, and that he, bearerof despatches to head-quarters of the army and ordered to stop fornothing, should have had to stop for bayonets and be lifted by thecollar into the presence of the officer of the guard,--that he shouldfind in the person of that officer the butt of the whole FirstLatin,--that he should be ordered by that--thing--to the common cellswherein were penned the drunkards and deserters, and led thither by theear, and an impudently grinning Paddy if he _was_ a sergeant, all thiswas, in truth, too much for Shorty. No comfort Winthrop could offerwould soothe his wounded soul. He went back ablaze to brigadehead-quarters. The general was away up the Potomac, and didn't returntill late. Even then when Shorty tried to tell his tale his excitementand wrath made him incoherent. The general was amazed to think that anofficer of regulars would hold his messenger after discovering that hewas actually the bearer of despatches. But Shorty's animated descriptionof that callow soldier, and by no means guarded references to his schoolhistory, gave the general a clue. He fully intended, of course, tofollow the matter up, but other and more important issues came to claimhis time and attention.
That night at nine o'clock the general decided to make a personalinspection along his front. Horses for himself and two aides wereordered, and Marmion, the colored hostler, presently came round to thebig tent.
"Marse Prime's horse done gone stiff, sir," he said to theadjutant-general, "and I reckon Marse Reggy don't feel much like nightridin'. He's sleepin' da' on de hay."
The officer went and took a peep. Wrapped in his blanket, his head onhis arms, the youngster had curled up for a nap, worn out by theexcitement and emotions of the day. "Don't wake him," was the order, andthe three horsemen rode away.
It was a still, starlit night. The roads were yet heavy with mud. Thehorses sank to their fetlocks and squashed noisily through the mireuntil the little party were able to turn into the cart-tracks throughthe thick woods, and, joined now by the field officer of the day, theypushed on to the outposts. It was the dark of the moon. The blackness ofthe groves and copses was intense. Objects, except on the open field oragainst the sky, could hardly be distinguished five feet away. But everynow and then there would come the muffled challenge of sentries at innerposts of the guard, and it was over half an hour before they reached theoutermost groups, with the line of night sentinels some distance ahead.To every inquiry at every station of officer or sergeant, the answer wasthe same, all quiet, all alert. There had been much shooting at patrolsand pickets for over a month, a practice both sides soon abandoned, butat the time there was hazardous, nerve-trying duty at the front, and fewmen welcomed it except for the excitement. Somewhere in the neighborhoodof ten o'clock, following in single file a winding wood track, asergeant leading afoot, the party approached the southern edge of astrip of woods and halted while the corporal stepped ahead to assure thesentinel. Then the general rode quietly up to question the man, thesergeant assuming his watch the while, for even in presence of thecommander-in-chief there must be no cessation of vigilance.
To the queries as to where the nearest sentries were posted? what werehis own instructions? what he would do in certain emergencies? thesoldier answered promptly, perhaps a bit impatiently, even as though hemight have enjoyed the catechism at another time, but had some weightiermatter in hand at the moment. He kept turning and glancing out acrossthe open field to the south, stooping once or twice as though to peer atsomething against the sky, and the general saw and questioned.
"Anything unusual about?"
"Why, yes, sir; at least I think so. The patrol that came by ten minutesago said that they had heard horses galloping out across the fields, andI could have sworn I heard hoofs on this here bridle-path where it dipsinto yon woods. By day nobody can come across here without our seeingthem. By night we can't see unless we lie flat and look up, and thenthey could get within a rod or two."
The general bent over his horse's neck and listened. There was not windenough to rustle a leaf. The sky was almost cloudless; the fields infront were open and silent; the dark, shadowy woods, beyond, merged inthe general gloom. Far off to the right front, over a mile away, a faintlight gleamed in some farm-house window. Far off to the left front, thesouth, there was a dim, lurid tint upon the night that might have comefrom dozens of watch-fires. Straight away in front the cart-track doveinto the darkness on its way across the field, and, over against them,there was a dent or depression in the outlines of the
fringe of timber,as it stood against the southern stars, that told where the road enteredthe opposite grove. It was there, right there, said the sentinel, he wasalmost sure he had heard horses' feet, but nothing else, not anothersound.
"Did the patrol stop at your outpost?" the general asked the sergeant.
"No, sir. It went right along the line of sentries. I crawled out duringthe afternoon and climbed a tree in the field to our right. You can seeit standing there, sir" (and, indeed, its outline was faintly visibleagainst the stars). "I could see some distance off to the south andsouthwest. Lewinsville and the barns are in plain view, and somescattered farm-houses."
"Did you see any troops?"
"No, sir, but some saw me, and the bullets came a-singing, and I had toquit and crawfish back. But this path leads into a road half a mile orso out there."
And while the sergeant spoke the soldier had resumed his watch, andsuddenly they heard him whisper, "Hist!"
"What do you see or hear?" murmured the sergeant, springing to his side.
"There is something out there, by thunder! coming this way. Thesegentlemen had better get back a bit. I can't tell how many there maybe."
Somebody,--some party, possibly, stealing up to feel the pickets again,and here were the general and staff-officers unescorted! What a plum forSouthern cavalry to pluck, did they but know! In breathless silence thewatchers waited. The general refused to retire. Not a sound could thehorsemen hear, but that sentry sprawled on the ground could not bemistaken. Not an object moving was visible. Suddenly, though low andcautious, they heard the click of a gun-lock. The sentry had brought hisrifle to the ready. Then, indeed, must there be something in the wind.Ten seconds later, and low, firm, so as to be heard only a few pacesaway, there came the order, "Halt!" A brief pause, then, with menace inthe tone, the challenge, "Who goes there?" For an instant no reply. Thenin tremulous voice came an answer in the field to the right of the road.
"It's only me, suh; Marse Finlay's Brennus, suh," and there can be nodoubting the Ethiopian accent.
"Who's with you, nigger? Who's back of you there?"
"Nobody, suh. I'se all alone, suh, but they's some gen'lemen way back,suh. They done give me a letter."
"Come in here, Brennus. Let's see your letter," called the sergeant,stepping warily forward, his gun, too, at the charge. And presently outfrom under the stars steps a tall negro boy, lithe, active, and alert.He is trembling a bit and uncertain of his whereabouts. He needs to knowsomething before he can impart anything, and presently it comes.
"Is you gen'lemen--Yankees?"
"Yankees from the general down," answers the sergeant. "Half a dozenright here ready to hear your story." And the negro seems to recognizealien accent in the Western twang of the speaker, and to take heart atonce.
"Dey done gimme a paper," he whispers, and the general interrupts.
"Bring him back to the reserve, where there's a fire. We'll examine himthere, sergeant." And, turning his horse, the general leads the way.
It is nearly eleven o'clock when, a little later, half a dozen officersare grouped about the slender, tattered, weary negro, a lad barelytwenty years of age, if that. To the general he has handed a roll oftin-foil, on which, as it is unfolded by the gleam of the camp-lanterns,the word "Solace" is stamped, and the thin tissue-paper it enclosesbears some writing, over which the general strains his eyes and studieseagerly; bends closer to the light and studies again. Then,straightening up suddenly, he turns upon the young negro.
"Where'd you leave them? How far out?"
"'Bout two miles, suh; p'r'aps not dat much."
"Are you sure about the troops,--about the number? There are noneothers?"
"Ye-as, suh. Dey ain't any udder companies near."
"And you can guide us right to the spot?"
"Ye-as, suh. Certain, suh."
The general turns sharply on his senior aide. "There's not a moment tobe lost. What a pity we have no cavalry! Ride straight to ColonelConnor. Tell him to rouse his regiment instantly and without a sound.Leave knapsacks and blankets in camp. Guide them here as quick as youcan. Now, captain, this boy must have a rousing supper. He deserves it."