CHAPTER X. BEFORE DONELSON
Dick was the first in Colonel Winchester's troop to see the white flagfloating over Fort Henry and he uttered a shout of joy.
"Look! look!" he cried, "the fleet has taken the fort!"
"So it has," said Colonel Winchester, "and the army is not here. Now Iwonder what General Grant will say when he learns that Foote has donethe work before he could come."
But Dick believed that General Grant would find no fault, that he wouldapprove instead. The feeling was already spreading among the soldiersthat this man, whose name was recently so new among them, cared onlyfor results. He was not one to fight over precedence and to feel pettyjealousies.
The smoke of battle was beginning to clear away. Officers were landingfrom the boats to receive the surrender of the fort, and ColonelWinchester and his troops galloped rapidly back toward the army, whichthey soon met, toiling through swamps and even through shallow overflowtoward the Tennessee. The men had been hearing for more than an hour thesteady booming of the cannon, and every face was eager.
Colonel Winchester rode straight toward a short, thickset figure on astout bay horse near the head of one of the columns. This man, like allthe others, was plastered with mud, but Colonel Winchester gave him asalute of deep respect.
"What does the cessation of firing mean, Colonel?" asked General Grant.
"It means that Fort Henry has surrendered to the fleet. The Southernforce, which was drawn up outside, retreated southward, but the fort,its guns and immediate defenders, are ours."
Dick saw the faintest smile of satisfaction pass over the face of theGeneral, who said:
"Commodore Foote has done well. Ride back and tell him that the army iscoming up as fast as the nature of the ground will allow."
In a short time the army was in the fort which had been taken sogallantly by the navy, and Grant, his generals, and Commodore Foote,were in anxious consultation. Most of the troops were soon camped onthe height, where the Southern force had stood, and there was greatexultation, but Dick, who had now seen so much, knew that the highofficers considered this only a beginning.
Across the narrow stretch of land on the parallel river, the Cumberland,stood the great fort of Donelson. Henry was a small affair compared withit. It was likely that men who had been stationed at Henry had retreatedthere, and other formidable forces were marching to the same place. TheConfederate commander, Johnston, after the destruction of hiseastern wing at Mill Spring by Thomas, was drawing in his forces andconcentrating. The news of the loss of Fort Henry would cause him tohasten his operations. He was rapidly falling back from his positionat Bowling Green in Kentucky. Buckner, with his division, was about tomarch from that place to join the garrison in Donelson, and Floyd, withanother division, would soon be on the way to the same point. Floyd hadbeen the United States Secretary of War before secession, and the Unionmen hated him. It was said that the great partisan leader, Forrest, withhis cavalry, was also at the fort.
Much of this news was brought in by farmers, Union sympathizers, andDick and his comrades, as they sat before the fires at the close ofthe short winter day, understood the situation almost as well as thegenerals.
"Donelson is ninety per cent and Henry only ten per cent," said Warner."So long as the Johnnies hold Donelson on the Cumberland, they can buildanother fort anywhere they please along the Tennessee, and stop ourfleet. This general of ours has a good notion of the value of time anda swift blow, and, although I'm neither a prophet nor the son of aprophet, I predict that he will attack Donelson at once by both land andwater."
"How can he attack it by water?" asked Pennington. "The distance betweenthem is not great, but our ships can't steam overland from the Tennesseeto the Cumberland."
"No, but they can steam back up the Tennessee into the Ohio, thence tothe mouth of the Cumberland, and down the Cumberland to Donelson. Itwould require only four or five days, and it will take that long for thearmy to invade from the land side."
Dick had his doubts about the ability of the army and the fleet toco-operate. Accustomed to the energy of the Southern commanders in theeast he did not believe that Grant would be allowed to arrange thingsas he chose. But several days passed and they heard nothing from theConfederates, although Donelson was only about twenty miles away.Johnston himself, brilliant and sagacious, was not there, nor was hislieutenant, Beauregard, who had won such a great reputation by hisvictory at the first Bull Run.
Dick was just beginning to suspect a truth that later on was to beconfirmed fully in his mind. Fortune had placed the great generals ofthe Confederacy, with the exception of Albert Sidney Johnston, in theeast, but it had been the good luck of the North to open in the westwith its best men.
Now he saw the energy of Grant, the short man of rather insignificantappearance. Boats were sent down the Tennessee to meet anyreinforcements that might be coming, take them back to the Ohio, andthence into the Cumberland. Fresh supplies of ammunition and food werebrought up, and it became obvious to Dick that the daring commandermeant to attack Donelson, even should its garrison outnumber his ownbesieging force.
Along a long line from Western Tennessee to Eastern Kentucky there wasa mighty stir. Johnston had perceived the energy and courage of hisopponent. He had shared the deep disappointment of all the Southernleaders when Kentucky failed to secede, but instead furnished so manythousands of fine troops to the Union army.
Johnston, too, had noticed with alarm the tremendous outpouring ofrugged men from the states beyond the Ohio and from the far northwest.The lumbermen who came down in scores of thousands from Michigan,Wisconsin and Minnesota, were a stalwart crowd. War, save for thebullets and shell, offered to them no hardships to which they were notused. They had often worked for days at a time up to their waists in icywater. They had endured thirty degrees below zero without a murmur, theyhad breasted blizzard and cyclone, they could live on anything, and theycould sleep either in forest or on prairie, under the open sky.
It was such men as these, including men of his own state, and men of theTennessee mountains, whom Johnston, who had all the qualities of a greatcommander, had to face. The forces against him were greatly superiorin number. The eastern end of his line had been crushed already atMill Spring, the extreme western end had suffered a severe blow atFort Henry, but Jefferson Davis and the Government at Richmond expectedeverything of him. And he manfully strove to do everything.
There was a mighty marching of men, some news of which came through toDick and his comrades with Grant. Johnston with his main army, the veryflower of the western South, fell back from Bowling Green, in Kentucky,toward Nashville, the capital of Tennessee. But Buckner, with hisdivision, was sent from Bowling Green to help defend Donelson againstthe threatened attack by Grant, and he arrived there six days after thefall of Henry. On the way were the troops of Floyd, defeated in WestVirginia, but afterwards sent westward. Floyd was at the head of them.Forrest, the great cavalry leader, was also there with his horsemen. Thefort was crowded with defenders, but the slack Pillow did not yet sendforward anybody to see what Grant was doing, although he was only twentymiles away.
All eyes were now turned upon the west. The center of action hadsuddenly shifted from Kentucky to Tennessee. The telegraph was youngyet, but it was busy. It carried many varying reports to the citiesNorth and South. The name of this new man, Grant, spelled trouble.People were beginning to talk much about him, and already some suspectedthat there was more in the back of his head than in those of far betterknown and far more pretentious northern generals in the east. None atleast could dispute the fact that he was now the one whom everybody waswatching.
But the Southern people, few of whom knew the disparity of numbers,had the fullest confidence in the brilliant Johnston. He was more thantwenty years older than his antagonist, but his years had brought onlyexperience and many triumphs, not weakness of either mind or body. Athis right hand was the swarthy and confident Beauregard, great withthe prestige of Bull Run, and Hardee, Bragg, Breckinridge
and Polk. Andthere were many brilliant colonels, too, foremost among whom was GeorgeKenton.
A tremor passed through the North when it was learned that Grantintended to plunge into the winter forest, cross the Cumberland, andlay siege to Donelson. He was going beyond the plans of his superior,Halleck, at St. Louis. He was too daring, he would lose his army, awaydown there in the Confederacy. But others remembered his successes,particularly at Belmont and Fort Henry. They said that nothing could bewon in war without risk, and they spoke of his daring and decision. Theyrecalled, too, that he was master upon the waters, that there was noSouthern fleet to face his, as it sailed up the Southern rivers. Thetelegraph was already announcing that the gunboats, which had beenhandled with such skill and courage, would be in the Cumberland ready toco-operate with Grant when he should move on Donelson.
Buell was moving also to form another link in the steel chain that wasintended to bind the Confederacy in the west. Here again the mastery ofthe rivers was of supreme value to the North. Buell embarked his army onboats on Green River in the very heart of Kentucky, descended that riverto the Ohio, passing down the latter to Smithland, where the Cumberland,coming up from the south, entered it, and met another convoy destinedfor the huge invasion.
But the first convoy had come, also by boat, from another direction,and from points far distant. There were fresh regiments of farmers andpioneers from Iowa, Nebraska, and Minnesota. They were all eager, fullof enthusiasm, anxious to be led against the enemy, and confident oftriumph.
Grant and his army, meanwhile, lying in the bleak forest beside theTennessee, knew little of what was being said of them in the great worldwithout. All their thoughts were of Donelson, across there on the otherriver, and the men asked to be led against it. Inured to the hardshipsof border life, there was little sickness among them, despite the winterand the overflow of the flooded streams. They gathered the dead woodthat littered the forest, built numerous fires, and waited as patientlyas they could for the word to march.
The Pennsylvanians were still camped with the Kentucky regiment to whichDick now belonged, and the fifth evening after the capture of Henry heand his friends sat by one of the big fires.
"We'll advance either tomorrow or the next day," said Warner. "Thechances are at least ninety per cent in favor of my statement. What doyou say, sergeant?"
"I'd raise the ninety per cent to one hundred," replied Whitley. "We areall ready an' as you've observed, gentlemen, General Grant is a man whoacts."
"The Johnnies evidently expect us," said Pennington. "Our scouts haveseen their cavalry in the woods watching us, but only in the last day ortwo. It's strange that they didn't begin it earlier."
"They say that General Pillow, who commands them, isn't of much force,"said Dick.
"Well, it looks like it," said Warner, "but from what we hear he'll havequite an army at Donelson. General Grant will have his work cut out forhim. The Johnnies, besides having their fort, can go into battle withjust about as many men as we have, unless he waits for reinforcements,which I am quite certain he isn't going to do."
That evening several bags of mail were brought to the camp on a smallsteamer, which had come on three rivers, the Green, the Ohio, and theTennessee, and Dick, to his great surprise and delight, received aletter from his mother. He had written several letters himself, but hehad no way of knowing until now that any of them had reached her. Onlyone had succeeded in getting through, and that had been written fromCairo.
"My dearest son," she wrote, "I am full of joy to know that youhave reached Cairo in safety and in health, though I dread the greatexpedition upon which you say you are going. I hear in Pendleton manyreports about General Grant. They say that he does not spare his men.The Southern sympathizers here say that he is pitiless and cares not howmany thousands of his own soldiers he may sacrifice, if he only gainshis aim. But of that I know not. I know it is a characteristic of ourpoor human nature to absolve one's own side and to accuse those on theother side.
"I was in Pendleton this morning, and the reports are thick; thick fromboth Northerners and Southerners, that the armies are moving forwardto a great battle. They have all marched south of us, and I do not knoweither whether these reports are true or false, though I fear that theyare true. Your uncle, Colonel Kenton, is with General Johnston, and Ihear is one of his most trusted officers. Colonel Kenton is a good man,and it would be one of the terrible tragedies of war if you and he wereto meet on the field in this great battle, which so many hear is coming.
"I am very glad that you are now in the regiment of Colonel Winchester,and that you are an aide on his staff. It is best to be with one's ownpeople. I have known Colonel Winchester a long time, and he has all thequalities that make a man, brave and gentle. I hope that you and he willbecome the best of friends."
There was much more in the letter, but it was only the little detailsthat concern mother and son. Dick was sitting by the fire when he readit. Then he read it a second time and a third time, folded it verycarefully and put it in the pocket in which he had carried the dispatchfrom General Thomas.
Colonel Winchester was sitting near him, and Dick noticed again whata fine, trim man he was. Although a little over forty, his figure wasstill slender, and he had an abundant head of thick, vital hair. Hiswhole effect was that of youth. His glance met Dick's and he smiled.
"A letter from home?" he said.
"Yes, sir, from mother. She writes to me that she is glad I am in yourcommand. She speaks very highly of you, sir, and my mother is a woman ofuncommon penetration."
A faint red tinted the tanned cheeks of the colonel. Dick thought it wasmerely the reflection of the fire.
"Would you care for me to read what she says about you?" asked Dick.
"If you don't mind."
Dick drew out the letter again and read the paragraph.
"Your mother is a very fine woman," said Colonel Winchester.
"You're right, sir," said Dick with enthusiasm.
Colonel Winchester said no more, but rose presently and went to the tentof General Grant, where a conference of officers was to be held. Dickremained by the fire, where Warner and Pennington soon joined him.
"Our scouts have exchanged some shots with the enemy," said Pennington,"and they have taken one or two prisoners, bold fellows who say they'regoing to lick the spots off us. They say they have a big army atDonelson, and they're afraid of nothing except that Grant won't come on.Between ourselves, the Johnny Rebs are getting ready for us."
It was Dick's opinion, too, that the Southern troops were making greatpreparations to meet them, but, like the others, he was feelingthe strong hand on the reins. He did not notice here the doubt anduncertainty that had reigned at Washington before the advance onBull Run; in Grant's army were order and precision, and with perfectconfidence in his commander he rolled himself in his blankets that nightand went to sleep.
The order to advance did not come the next morning, and Dick, for a fewmoments, thought it might not come at all. The reports from Donelsonwere of a formidable nature, and Grant's own army was not provided for awinter campaign. It had few wagons for food and ammunition, and some ofthe regiments from the northwest, cherishing the delusion that winterin Tennessee was not cold, were not provided with warm clothing andsufficient blankets.
But Warner abated his confidence not one jot.
"The chance of our moving against Donelson is one hundred per cent," hesaid. "I passed the General today and his lips were shut tight together,which means a resolve to do at all costs what one has intended to do. Istill admit that the prophets and the sons of prophets live no more, butI predict with absolute certainty that we will move in the morning."
The Vermonter's faith was justified. The army, being put in thoroughtrim, started at dawn upon its momentous march. Wintry fogs were risingfrom the great river and the submerged lowlands, and the air was full ofraw, penetrating chill. An abundant breakfast was served to everybody,and then with warmth and courage the lads of the west and northwestmar
ched forward with eagerness to an undertaking which they knew wouldbe far greater than the capture of Fort Henry.
Dick and Pennington, as staff officers, were mounted, although thehorses that had been furnished to them were not much more than ponies.Warner rode with Colonel Newcomb and Major Hertford, who led the slenderPennsylvania detachment beside the Kentucky regiment. Thus the armyemerged from its camp and began the march toward the Cumberland. It wasnow about fifteen thousand strong, but it expected reinforcements, andits fleet held the command of the rivers.
As they entered the leafless forest Dick saw ahead of them, perhapsa quarter of a mile away, a numerous band of horsemen wearing fadedConfederate gray. They were the cavalry of Forrest, but they were toofew to stay the Union advances. There was a scattered firing of rifles,but the heavy brigades of Grant moved steadily on, and pushed them outof the way. Forrest could do no more than gallop back to the fort withhis men and report that the enemy was coming at last.
"Those fellows ride well," said Pennington, as the last of Forrest'scavalrymen passed out of sight, "and if we were not in such strong forceI fancy they would sting us pretty hard."
"We'll see more of 'em," said Dick. "This is the enemy's country, and weneedn't think that we're going to march as easy as you please from onevictory to another."
"Maybe not," said Pennington, "but I'll be glad when we get Donelson.I've been hearing so much about that place that I'm growing realcurious."
Their march across the woods suffered no further interruption. Sometimesthey saw Confederate cavalrymen at a distance in front, but they did nottry to impede Grant's advance. When the sun was well down in the west,the vanguard of the army came within sight of the fortress that stoodby the Cumberland. At that very moment the troops under Floyd, justarrived, were crossing the river to join the garrison in the fortress.
Dick looked upon extensive fortifications, a large fort, a redoubt uponslightly higher ground, other batteries at the water's edge, powerfulbatteries upon a semi-circular hill which could command the river for along distance, and around all of these extensive works, several milesin length, including a deep creek on the north. Inside the works was thelittle town of Dover, and they were defended by fifteen thousand men, asmany as Grant had without.
When Dick beheld this formidable position bristling with cannon, riflesand bayonets, his heart sank within him. How could one army defeatanother, as numerous as itself, inside powerful intrenchments, and inits own country? Nor could they prevent Southern reinforcements fromreaching the other side of the river and crossing to the fort under theshelter of its numerous great guns. He was yet to learn the truth, orat least the partial truth, of Napoleon's famous saying, that in war anarmy is nothing, a man is everything. The army to which he belongedwas led by a man of clear vision and undaunted resolution. The chiefcommander inside the fort had neither, and his men were shaken alreadyby the news of Fort Henry, exaggerated in the telling.
But after the first sinking of the heart Dick felt an extraordinarythrill. Sensitive and imaginative, he was conscious even at the momentthat he looked in the face of mighty events. The things of the minutedid not always appeal to him with the greatest force. He had, instead,the foreseeing mind, and the meaning of that vast panorama of fortress,hills, river and forest did not escape him.
"Well, Dick, what do you think of it?" asked Pennington.
"We've got our work cut out for us, and if I didn't know General GrantI'd say that we're engaged in a mighty rash undertaking."
"Just what I'd say, also. And we need that fleet bad, too, Dick. I'dlike to see the smoke of its funnels as the boats come steaming up theCumberland."
Dick knew that the fleet was needed, not alone for encouragement andfighting help, but to supply an even greater want. Grant's army wasshort of both food and ammunition. The afternoon had turned warm, andmany of the northwestern lads, still clinging to their illusions aboutthe climate of the lower Mississippi Valley, had dropped their blankets.Now, with the setting sun, the raw, penetrating chill was coming back,and they shivered in every bone.
But the Union army, in spite of everything, gradually spread out andenfolded the whole fortress, save on the northern side where HickmanCreek flowed, deep and impassable. The general's own headquarters weredue west of Fort Donelson, and Colonel Winchester's Kentucky regimentwas stationed close by.
Low campfires burned along the long line of the Northern army, and Dickand others who sat beside him saw many lights inside the great enclosureheld by the South. An occasional report was heard, but it was onlythe pickets exchanging shots at long range and without hurt. Dick andPennington wrapped their blankets about them and sat with their backsagainst a log, ready for any command from Colonel Winchester. Now andthen they were sent with orders, because there was much moving to andfro, the placing of men in position and the bringing up of cannon.
Thus the night moved slowly on, raw, cold and dark. Mists and fogs rosefrom the Cumberland as they had risen from the Tennessee. This, too, wasa great river. Dick was glad when the last of his errands was done, andhe could come back to the fire, and rest his back once more againstthe log. The fire was only a bed of coals now, but they gave out muchgrateful heat.
Dick could see General Grant's tent from where he sat. Officers of highrank were still entering it or leaving it, and he was quite sure thatthey were planning an attack on the morrow.
But the idea of an assault did not greatly move him now. He was tootired and sleepy to have more than a vague impression of anything. Hesaw the coals glowing before him, and then he did not see them. He hadgone sound asleep in an instant.
The next morning was gray and troubled, with heavy clouds, rollingacross the sky. The rising sun was blurred by them, and as the men atetheir breakfasts some of the great guns from the fort began to fire atthe presumptuous besieger. The heavy reports rolled sullenly overthe desolate forests, but the Northern cannon did not yet reply. TheSouthern fire was doing no damage. It was merely a threat, a menace tothose who should dare the assault.
Colonel Winchester signalled to Dick and Pennington, and mounting theirhorses they rode with him to the crest of the highest adjacent hill.Presently General Grant came and with him were the generals, McClernandand Smith. Colonel Newcomb also arrived, attended by Warner. The highofficers examined the fort a long time through their glasses, but Dicknoticed that at times they watched the river. He knew they were lookingthere for the black plumes of smoke which should mark the coming of thesteamers out of the Ohio.
But nothing showed on the surface of the Cumberland. The river, darkgray under lowering clouds, flowed placidly on, washing the base of FortDonelson. At intervals of a minute or two there was a flash of firefrom the fort, and the menacing boom of the cannon rolled through thedesolate forest. Now and then, a gun from one of the Northern batteriesreplied. But it was as yet a desultory battle, with much noise andlittle danger, merely a threat of what was to come.
After a while Colonel Winchester wrote something on a slip of paper:
"Take this to our lieutenant-colonel," he said. "It is an order for theregiment to hold itself in complete readiness, although no action maycome for some time. Then return here at once."
Dick rode back swiftly, but on his way he suddenly bent over his saddlebow. A shell from the fort screamed over his head in such a menacingfashion that it seemed to be only a few inches from him. But it passedon, leaving him unharmed, and burst three hundred yards away.
Dick instantly straightened up in the saddle, looked around, breathed asigh of relief when he saw that no one had noticed his sudden bow, andgalloped on with the order. The lieutenant-colonel read it and nodded.Then Dick rode back to the hill where the generals were yet watching invain for those black plumes of smoke on the Cumberland.
They left the hill at last and the generals went to their brigades.General Grant was smoking a cigar and his face was impassive.
"We're to open soon with the artillery," said Colonel Winchester toDick. "General Grant means to push thing
s."
The desultory firing, those warning guns, ceased entirely, and for awhile both armies stood in almost complete silence. Then a Northernbattery on the right opened with a tremendous crash and the battle forDonelson had begun. A Southern battery replied at once and the firingspread along the whole vast curve. Shells and solid shot whistledthrough the air, but the troops back of the guns crouched in hastyentrenchments, and waited.
The great artillery combat went on for some time. To many of the ladson either side it seemed for hours. Then the guns on the Northern sideceased suddenly, bugles sounded, and the regiments, drawn up in line,rushed at the outer fortifications.
Colonel Winchester and his staff had dismounted, but Dick andPennington, keeping by the colonel's side, drew their swords and rushedon shouting. The Southerners inside the fort fired their cannon as fastas they could now, and at closer range opened with the rifles. Dickheard once again that terrible shrieking of metal so close to his ears,and then he heard, too, cries of pain. Many of the young soldiers behindhim were falling.
The fire now grew so hot and deadly that the Union regiments were forcedto give ground. It was evident that they could not carry the formidableearthworks, but on the right, where Dick's regiment charged, and justabove the little town of Dover, they pressed in far enough to securesome hills that protected them from the fire of the enemy, and fromwhich Southern cannon and rifles could not drive them. Then, at theorder of Grant, his troops withdrew elsewhere and the battle of theday ceased. But on the low hills above Dover, which they had taken, theUnion regiments held their ground, and from their position the Northerncannon could threaten the interior of the Southern lines.
Dick's regiment stood here, and beside them were the few companiesof Pennsylvanians so far from their native state. Neither Dick norPennington was wounded. Warner had a bandaged arm, but the wound was soslight that it would not incapacitate him. The officers were unhurt.
"They've driven our army back," said Pennington, "and it was not so hardfor them to do it either. How can we ever defeat an army as large as ourown inside powerful works?"
But Dick was learning fast and he had a keen eye.
"We have not failed utterly," he said. "Don't you see that we have herea projection into the enemy's lines, and if those reinforcements come itwill be thrust further and further? I tell you that general of ours is abull dog. He will never let go."
Yet there was little but gloom in the Union camp. The short winter day,somber and heavy with clouds, was drawing to a close. The field uponwhich the assault had taken place was within the sweep of the Southernguns. Some of the Northern wounded had crawled away or had been carriedto their own camp, but others and the numerous dead still lay upon theground.
The cold increased. The Southern winter is subject to violent changes.The clouds which had floated up without ceasing were massing heavily.Now the young troops regretted bitterly the blankets that they haddropped on the way or left at Fort Henry. Detachments were sent back toregain as many as possible, but long before they could return a sharpwind with an edge of ice sprang up, the clouds opened and great flakespoured down, driven into the eyes of the soldiers by the wind.
The situation was enough to cause the stoutest heart to weaken, but theunflinching Grant held on. The Confederate army within the works wassheltered at least in part, but his own, outside, and with the desolateforest rimming it around, lay exposed fully to the storm. Dick, atintervals, saw the short, thickset figure of the commander passing amongthe men, and giving them orders or encouragement. Once he saw hisface clearly. The lips were pressed tightly together, and the wholecountenance expressed the grimmest determination. Dick was confirmedanew in his belief that the chief would never turn back.
The spectacle, nevertheless, was appalling. The snow drove harder andharder. It was not merely a passing shower of flakes. It was a storm.The snow soon lay upon the ground an inch deep, then three inches,then four and still it gained. Through the darkness and the storm theSouthern cannon crashed at intervals, sending shells at random intothe Union camp or over it. There was full need then for the indomitablespirit of Grant and those around him to encourage anew the thousands ofboys who had so lately left the farms or the lumber yards.
Dick and his comrades, careless of the risk, searched over thebattlefield for the wounded who were yet there. They carried lanterns,but the darkness was so great and the snow drove so hard and lay so deepthat they knew many would never be found.
Back beyond the range of the fort's cannon men were building fires withwhat wood they could secure from the forest. All the tents they had wereset up, and the men tried to cook food and make coffee, in order thatsome degree of warmth and cheer might be provided for the army beset sosorely.
The snow, after a while, slackening somewhat, was succeeded by cold muchgreater than ever. The shivering men bent over the fires and lamentedanew the discarded blankets. Dick did not sleep an instant that terriblenight. He could not. He, Pennington, and Warner, relieved from staffservice, worked all through the cold and darkness, helping the woundedand seeking wood for the fires. And with them always was the wiseSergeant Whitley, to whom, although inferior in rank, they turned oftenand willingly for guidance and advice.
"It's an awful situation," said Pennington; "I knew that war wouldfurnish horrors, but I didn't expect anything like this."
"But General Grant will never retreat," said Dick. "I feel it in everybone of me. I've seen his face tonight."
"No, he won't," said the experienced sergeant, "because he's makingevery preparation to stay. An' remember, Mr. Pennington, that while thisis pretty bad, worse can happen. Remember, too, that while we can standthis, we can also stand whatever worse may come. It's goin' to be afight to a finish."
Far in the night the occasional guns from the Southern fortress ceased.The snow was falling no longer, but it lay very deep on the ground, andthe cold was at its height. Along a line of miles the fires burned andthe men crowded about them. But Dick, who had been working on the snowyplain that was the battlefield, and who had heard many moans there, nowheard none. All who lay in that space were sleeping the common sleep ofdeath, their bodies frozen stiff and hard under the snow.
Dick, sitting by one of the fires, saw the cold dawn come, and in thosechill hours of nervous exhaustion he lost hope for a moment or two.How could anybody, no matter how resolute, maintain a siege withoutammunition and without food. But he spoke cheerfully to Pennington andWarner, who had slept a little and who were just awakening.
The pale and wintry sun showed the defiant Stars and Bars floatingover Donelson, and Dick from his hill could see men moving inside theearthworks. Certainly the Southern flags had a right to wave defiance atthe besieging army, which was now slowly and painfully rising from thesnow, and lighting the fires anew.
"Well, what's the program today, Dick?" asked Pennington.
"I don't know, but it's quite certain that we won't attempt anotherassault. It's hopeless."
"That's true," said Warner, who was standing by, "but we--hark, what wasthat?"
The boom of a cannon echoed over the fort and forest, and then anotherand another. To the northward they saw thin black spires of smoke underthe horizon.
"It's the fleet! It's the fleet!" cried Warner joyously, "coming up theCumberland to our help! Oh, you men of Donelson, we're around you now,and you'll never shake us off!"
Again came the crash of great guns from the fleet, and the crash of theSouthern water batteries replying.
The Guns of Shiloh: A Story of the Great Western Campaign Page 12