CHAPTER VIII.
The Struggle Between the Lines.
One day, about two weeks after they came out of Arkansas River, theTiconderoga stopped at Smith's Landing to take on wood, as her supply ofcoal had run short. The vessel was made fast to the bank, and, while theseamen were bringing in the wood, the paymaster's steward called Frank'sattention to some cattle which were feeding on the bank, and remarked: "Iwish we could go out and shoot one of them." "So do I," said Frank; "I'veeaten salt pork until I am tired of it. Let's go and ask the captain."
"I'm agreed," said the steward.
The captain was walking on deck at the time and his permission was readilyobtained, for he himself had grown tired of ship's pork; Frank,accompanied by the steward, and a seaman who was an expert butcher,started out. They were armed with muskets, and, as they were all goodshots, and did not wish to kill more than enough to feed the ship'scompany once, they took with them no ammunition besides what was in theguns. At the place where the Ticonderoga was lying, the levee--anembankment about six feet high, built to prevent the water fromoverflowing--ran back into the woods about half a mile, then, making abend like a horse-shoe, came back to the river again, inclosing perhaps adozen acres of low, swampy land; and it was in this swamp that the cattlewere. They proved to be very wild; but, after a considerable run, Franksucceeded in bringing down one, and the steward and seaman finally killedanother. The question now was, how to get the meat on board the vessel.While they were debating on the matter, they were startled by the clatterof horses' hoofs on the levee; and, instead of drawing back into thebushes, out of sight, they very imprudently waited to see who the horsemenwere. Presently, a party of guerrillas, to their utter amazement--for theyhad not dreamed that the rebels were so near them--galloped up.
The rebels discovered them at the same moment, and one of them exclaimed:
"I'll be dog-gone if thar ain't a Yank;" and, not knowing how many theremight be of the "Yanks," they very prudently drew up their horses. One ofthem, however, who appeared to be the leader of the band, comprehendedtheir situation at a glance, and exclaimed:
"Throw down your arms, and you shall be treated like men!"
This brought them to their senses, and they turned and ran for theirlives. They had scarcely made a dozen steps before the bullets andbuckshot began to rattle about their ears; but the trees and bushes wereso thick that they escaped unhurt. Frank reached the vessel far in advanceof the others; as he came over the side, panting and excited, the captain,who was still on deck, inquired:
"What's the matter, Mr. Nelson?"
"We ran foul of some guerrillas out there in the woods, sir," repliedFrank.
"How many of them did you see?"
"They didn't give us much of a chance to judge of their numbers, sir; butI should say that there were at least a dozen of them, and they werecoming this way. I shouldn't wonder if they intended to pick off some ofthe men who are carrying in wood."
"Mr. Hurd," said the captain, turning to the executive officer, "takethirty men, who are good shots, and go out there and keep those fellowsoff. Mr. Nelson will go with you."
Frank accordingly ran below, and armed himself with a revolver and musket,and buckled on a cartridge-box. When the men were ready, he led the way,along the levee, so that, if the guerrillas were advancing, they would becertain to meet them. But they saw no signs of them until they came withinsight of a barn which stood in the woods, about a mile from the river. Therebels were gathered before it, as if in consultation, and greeted theapproach of the sailors with a scattering volley of musketry, whichwhistled harmlessly over their heads, or plowed up the ground before them.
"Give 'em a shot, boys," said the executive officer, "and then scatter,and let each man take to a tree and fight Indian fashion."
The sailors wheeled into line with all the promptness and regularity ofveteran troops; and before the smoke of their muskets cleared away, theyhad disappeared, like a flock of young partridges. The rebels had alsotreed, and the skirmish was continued for half an hour, without any damagebeing done to either party.
This style of fighting did not suit Frank, and he began to urge theexecutive officer to advance, and drive them from their position. But theofficer did not think it safe to attempt it; for, although he had seen buta small number of the rebels, he did not know how many there might behidden away in the bushes.
"Well, then," said Frank, after thinking a moment, "I have anotherproposition to make. If you will give me ten men, and engage the rebelswarmly in front, I'll go and get that fresh beef."
"Where did you leave it?" inquired the officer.
"In the woods, about three hundred yards to the left of where the rebelsnow are."
"Very well; pick out your men, and go ahead."
Frank accordingly selected the boatswain's mate, an old, gray-headed man,who had been in the navy from boyhood, as his first lieutenant, andordered him to call for volunteers.
If there is any thing a sailor admires, it is bravery in an officer. Everyone on board the Ticonderoga, from the captain down, was acquainted withFrank's gallant behavior at Cypress Bend, although he himself had neversaid a word about it; and this, together with his uniform kindness towardthe men under his command, and the respect he always showed his brotherofficers, had made him very popular with the ship's company; and when themate--who was never better pleased than when he could do Frank aservice-passed the word along the line that Mr. Nelson had called forvolunteers, the men flocked around him in all directions. The mate quicklyselected the required number, and Frank led them toward the place wherethey had left the beef.
The woods were very thick, and, of course, the rebels, who were hidden inthe bushes, on the other side of the levee, knew nothing of what was goingon. Frank sent two of his men to the levee, to watch the motions of therebels, with orders not to fire unless they attempted to advance; and thenpulled off his coat, and set to work, with the others, cutting up thebeef. This was soon accomplished; and, after getting it all ready to carryto the vessel, Frank, after consulting with the mate, concluded that therebels ought to be punished for what they had done, and he determined totry the effect of a cross-fire upon them.
He cautiously advanced his men to the levee, when he found that the rebelshad been growing bolder; and one of them, who was mounted on a powerfuliron-gray horse, would frequently ride out from his concealment, andadvance toward the place where the men under the executive officer werestationed, coolly deliver his fire, and then retreat out of range of theirguns, to reload.
"Now, boys," said Frank, "if that fellow tries that again, I'll put astopper on his shooting for awhile."
The rebel, who, of course, was entirely ignorant of the proximity ofFrank's party, soon reappeared, and rode rapidly down the levee, until hecame directly opposite the place where Frank and his men were concealed,and then drew up his horse, and settled himself in his saddle, for a goodshot. But at that instant the report of Frank's musket echoed through thewoods, and the horse on which the rebel was mounted fell to the ground,with a bullet in his brain. Before the astonished guerrilla couldextricate himself from the saddle, Frank, with more recklessness thanprudence, had bounded out of his concealment, and seized him by the collarwith one hand, at the same time attempting to draw his revolver with theother.
"You're my prisoner!" he exclaimed.
But the rebel had no sooner regained his feet, than he seized Frank aroundthe body, and, lifting him from his feet, threw him heavily to the ground.Frank's revolver had become entangled in his belt in such a manner that hecould not draw it, and he now saw how foolhardy he had been, for hisantagonist was a man of almost twice his size, and possessed of enormousstrength. But Frank still retained his presence of mind, and, in falling,he managed to catch the rebel by the hair, and pulled him to the groundwith him. He clung to him with a death-grip, and the guerrilla, aftertrying in vain to break his hold, attempted to draw a knife from his belt.Frank seized it at the same moment, when each used all his skill andstr
ength to obtain possession of it.
Both parties gazed in utter amazement, as this singular struggle went onand neither dared to fire a shot, for fear of hitting their own man. Atlength the mate, who, with his men, had watched the progress of theconflict, with their feelings worked up to the highest pitch ofexcitement, discovered that the rebel, by his superior strength, wasgaining the advantage; and he knew that the only way to save his officerwas to drive the rebels from their position.
"Steady there, lads!" he exclaimed; "fix bayonets."
The order was promptly obeyed.
"Ready, now! Aim! Fire! Charge bayonets! Forward, double-quick!"
The sailors broke from their concealment with a loud yell, and rushedtoward the rebel line. They were soon overtaken by the men under commandof the executive officer, who, not wishing to be outdone by theircomrades, had come to their assistance.
The rebels were taken completely by surprise, and, after delivering astraggling fire, rapidly retreated.
The charge made by the sailors infused new courage into Frank, whoincreased his exertions, and struggled furiously for the possession of theknife.
"Hold on," exclaimed the rebel; "I'll surrender, if you will promise mekind treatment."
"I guess you'll surrender any way," said Frank; "and you may be sure thatyou will be well treated."
"Let go my hair, then," said the rebel; "and let me get up."
Frank accordingly released his hold, and the rebel rose to his feet, andwas immediately seized by the mate, who, with his men, was just returningfrom the pursuit of the rebels.
After the prisoner had delivered up his weapons, they marched back to theplace where they had left the beef, and then started for the vessel.
Every one was soon made acquainted with the particulars of the fight, andFrank was again the hero of the mess-room.
Frank on a Gun-Boat Page 8