Miss Ravenel's conversion from secession to loyalty

by John William De Forest

  CHAPTER XX.

  CAPTAIN COLBURNE MARCHES AND FIGHTS WITH CREDIT.

  The consideration of Mr. Colburne's letter induces me to take up oncemore the thread of that young warrior's history. In the early part ofthis month of May, 1863, we find him with his company, regiment andbrigade, encamped on the bank of the Red River, just outside of the onceflourishing little city of Alexandria, Louisiana. Under the protectionof a clapboard shanty, five feet broad and ten feet high, which three orfour of his men have voluntarily built for him, he is lying at fulllength, smoking his short wooden pipe with a sense of luxury; for sincehe left his tent at Brashear City, four weeks previous, this is thefirst shelter which he has had to protect him from the rain, except oneor two ticklish mansions of rails, piled up by Henry of the"obstropolous" laughter. The brigade encampment, a mushroom city whichhas sprung up in a day, presenting every imaginable variety of temporarycabin, reaches half a mile up and down the river, under the shade of along stretch of ashes and beeches. Hundreds of soldiers are bathing inthe reddish-ochre current, regardless of the possibility that the thickwoods of the opposite bank may conceal Rebel marksmen.

  Colburne has eaten his dinner of fried pork and hardtack, has washed offthe grime of a three days' march, has finished his pipe, and is nowdropping gently into a soldier's child-like yet light slumber. He doesnot mind the babble of voices about him, but if you should say "Fallin!" he would be on his feet in an instant. He is a handsome model of awarrior as he lies there, though rougher and plainer in dress than apainter would be apt to make him. He is dark-red with sunburn; gauntwith bad food, irregular food, fasting and severe marching; gaunt andwiry, but all the hardier and stronger for it, like a wolf. His coarsefatigue uniform is dirty with sleeping on the ground, and with marchingthrough mud and clouds of dust. It has been soaked over and over againwith rain or perspiration, and then powdered thickly with thefine-grained, unctuous soil of Louisiana, until it is almost stiffenough to stand alone. He cannot wash it, because it is the only suit hehas brought with him, and because moreover he never knows but that hemay be ordered to fall in and march at five minutes' notice.

  Yet his body and even his mind are in the soundest and most enviablehealth. His constant labors and hardships, and his occasional perilshave preserved him from that enfeebling melancholy which often infectssensitive spirits upon whom has beaten a storm of trouble. Always in theopen air, never poisoned by the neighborhood of four walls and a roof,he never catches cold, and rarely fails to have more appetite than food.He has borne as well as the hardiest mason or farmer those terrificforced marches which have brought the army from Camp Beasland toAlexandria on a hot scent after the flying and scattering rebels. Hisfeet have been as sore as any man's; they have been blistered from toeto heel, and swollen beyond their natural size; but he has never yetlaid down by the roadside nor crawled into an army wagon, saying thathe could march no further. He is loyal and manly in his endurance, andis justly proud of it. In one of his letters he says, "I was fullyrepaid for yesterday's stretch of thirty-five miles by overhearing oneof my Irishmen say, while washing his bloody feet, 'Be ----! but he's ahardy man, the Captin!'--To which another responded, 'An' he had hishands full to kape the byes' courage up; along in the afthernoon, he wasa jokin' an' scoldin' an' encouragin' for ten miles together. Be ----!an' when _he_ gives out, it 'ull be for good rayson.'"

  From Alexandria, Banks suddenly shifted his army to the junction of theRed River with the Mississippi, and from thence by transport to a pointnorth of Port Hudson, thus cutting it off from communication with theConfederacy. In this movement Weitzel took command of the ReserveBrigade and covered the rear of the column. By night it made prodigiousmarches, and by day lay in threatening line of battle. The RebelCavalry, timid and puzzled, followed at a safe distance withoutattacking. Now came the delicious sail from Simmsport to Bayou Sara,during which Colburne could lounge at ease on the deck with a sense ofluxury in the mere consciousness that he was not marching, and reposehis mind, his eyes, his very muscles, by gazing on the fresh greenbluffs which faced each other across the river. To a native of hilly NewEngland, who had passed above a year on the flats of Louisiana, it wasdelightful to look once more upon a rolling country.

  It was through an atmosphere of scalding heat and stifling dust that thebrigade marched up the bluffs of Bayou Sara and over the roundedeminences which stretched on to Port Hudson. The perspiration whichdrenched the ragged uniforms and the pulverous soil which powdered themrapidly mixed into a muddy plaster; and the same plaster grimed themen's faces out of almost all semblance to humanity, except where thedust clung dry and gray to hair, beard, eyebrows and eyelashes. Sodense was the distressing cloud that it was impossible at times to seethe length of a company. It seemed as if the men would go rabid withthirst, and drive the officers mad with their pleadings to leave theranks for water, a privilege not allowable to any great extent in anenemy's country. A lovely crystal streamlet, running knee-deep overclean yellow sand, a charming contrast to black or brown bayous withmuddy and treacherous banks, was forded by the feverish ranks withshouts and laughter of child-like enjoyment. But it was through volumesof burning yet lazy dust, soiling and darkening the glory of sunset,that the brigade reached its appointed bivouac in a large clearing, onlytwo miles from the rebel stronghold, though hidden from it by a denseforest of oaks, beeches and magnolias.

  It is too early to tell, it is even too early to know, the whole truthconcerning the siege of Port Hudson. To an honest man, anxious that theworld shall not be humbugged, it is a mournful reflection that perhapsthe whole truth never will be known to any one who will dare or care totell it. We gained a victory there; we took an important step towardsthe end of the Rebellion; but at what cost, through what means, and bywhose merit? It was a capital idea, whosesoever it was, to clean outTaylor's Texans and Louisianians from the Teche country before weundertook the siege of Gardner's Arkansians, Alabamians, andMississippians at Port Hudson. But for somebody's blunder at thatwell-named locality, Irish Bend, the plan would have succeeded betterthan it did, and Taylor would not have been able to reorganize, takeBrashear City, threaten New Orleans, and come near driving Banks fromhis main enterprise. As it was we opened the siege with fair prospectsof success, and no disturbing force in the rear. The garrison, latelyfifteen or twenty thousand strong, had been reduced to six thousand, inorder to reinforce Vicksburg; and Joe Johnston had already directedGardner to destroy his fortifications and transfer all his men to thegreat scene of contest on the central Mississippi. Banks arrived fromSimmsport just in time to prevent the execution of this order. A smartskirmish was fought, in which we lost more men than the enemy, butforced Gardner to retire within his works, and accept the eventualitiesof an investment.

  At five o'clock on the morning of the 27th of May, Colburne was awakenedby an order to fall in. Whether it signified an advance on our part, ora sally by the enemy, he did not know nor ask, but with a soldier'sindifference proceeded to form his company, and, that done, ate hisbreakfast of raw pork and hard biscuit. He would have been glad to haveHenry boil him a cup of coffee; but that idle freedman was "having agood time," probably sleeping, in some unknown refuge. For two hours theranks sat on the ground, musket in hand; then Colburne saw the foremostline, a quarter of a mile in front, advance into the forest. One ofWeitzel's aids now dashed up to Carter, and immediately hisstaff-officers galloped away to the different commanders of regiments.An admonishing murmur of "Fall in, men!"--"Attention, men!" from thecaptains ran along the line of the Tenth, and the soldiers rose in theirplaces to meet the grand, the awful possibility of battle. It was a longrow of stern faces, bronzed with sunburn, sallow in many cases withmalaria, grave with the serious emotions of the hour, but hardened bythe habit of danger, and set as firm as flints toward the enemy. The oldinnocence of the peaceable New England farmer and mechanic haddisappeared from these war-seared visages, and had been succeeded by anexpression of hardened combativeness, not a little brutal, much like thelook of a lazy bull-dog. C
olburne smiled with pleasure and pride as heglanced along the line of his company, and noted this change in itsphysiognomy. For the purpose for which they were drawn up there theywere better men than when he first knew them, and as good men as the sunever shone upon.

  At last the Lieutenant-Colonel's voice rang out, "Battalion, forward.Guide right. March!"

  To keep the ranks closed and aligned in any tolerable fighting shapewhile struggling through that mile of tangled forest and broken ground,was a task of terrible difficulty. Plunging through thickets, leapingover fallen trees, a continuous foliage overhead, and the fallen leavesof many seasons under foot, the air full of the damp, mouldering smellof virgin forest, the brigade moved forward with no sound but that ofits own tramplings. It is peculiar of the American attack that it isalmost always made in line, and always without music. The men expectedto meet the enemy at every hillock, but they advanced rapidly, andlaughed at each other's slippings and tumbles. Every body was breathlesswith climbing over obstacles or running around them. The officers werebeginning to swear at the broken ranks and unsteady pace. TheLieutenant-Colonel, perceiving that the regiment was diverging from itscomrades, and fearing the consequences of a gap in case the enemy shouldsuddenly open fire, rode repeatedly up and down the line, yelling,"Guide right! Close up to the right!" Suddenly, to the amazement ofevery one, the brigade came upon bivouacs of Union regiments quietlyengaged in distributing rations and preparing breakfast.

  "What are you doing up here?" asked a Major of Colburne.

  "We are going to attack. Don't you take part in it?"

  "I suppose so. I don't know. We have received no orders."

  Through this scene of tardiness, the result perhaps of one of thoseblunders which are known in military as well as in all other humanoperations, Weitzel's division steadily advanced, much wondering if itwas to storm Port Hudson alone. The ground soon proved so difficult thatthe Tenth, unable to move in line of battle, filed into a faintly markedforest road and pushed forward by the flank in the ordinary column ofmarch. The battle had already commenced, although Colburne could seenothing of it, and could hear nothing but a dull _pum-pum-pum_ ofcannon. He passed rude rifle-pits made of earth and large branches,which had been carried only a few minutes previous by the confused rushof the leading brigade. Away to the right, but not near enough to beheard above the roar of artillery, there was a wild, scattering musketryof broken lines, fighting and scrambling along as they best could overthicketed knolls, and through rugged gullies, on the track of theretiring Alabamians and Arkansans. It was the blindest and mostperplexing forest labyrinth conceivable; it was impossible to tellwhither you were going, or whether you would stumble on friends orenemies; the regiments were split into little squads from which allorder had disappeared, but which nevertheless advanced.

  The Tenth was still marching through the woods by the flank, unable tosee either fortifications or enemy, when it came under the fire ofartillery, and encountered the retiring stream of wounded. At thismoment, and for two hours afterward, the uproar of heavy guns, burstingshells, falling trees and flying splinters was astonishing, stunning,horrible, doubled as it was by the sonorous echoes of the forest.Magnolias, oaks and beeches eighteen inches or two feet in diameter,were cut asunder with a deafening scream of shot and of splittingfibres, the tops falling after a pause of majestic deliberation, notsidewise, but stem downwards, like a descending parachute, and strikingthe earth with a dull shuddering thunder. They seemed to give up theirlife with a roar of animate anguish, as if they were savage beasts, oras if they were inhabited by Afreets and Demons.

  The unusually horrible clamor and the many-sided nature of the dangerhad an evident effect on the soldiers, hardened as they were to scenesof ordinary battle. Grim faces turned in every direction with hastystares of alarm, looking aloft and on every side, as well as to thefront, for destruction. Pallid stragglers who had dropped out of theleading brigade drifted by the Tenth, dodging from trunk to trunk in aninstinctive search for cover, although it was visible that the forestwas no protection, but rather an additional peril. Every regiment hasits two or three cowards, or perhaps its half-dozen, weakly-nervedcreatures, whom nothing can make fight, and who never do fight. Oneabject hound, a corporal with his disgraced stripes upon his arm, cameby with a ghastly backward glare of horror, his face colorless, his eyesprojecting, and his chin shaking. Colburne cursed him for a poltroon,struck him with the flat of his sabre, and dragged him into the ranks ofhis own regiment; but the miserable creature was too thoroughly unmannedby the great horror of death to be moved to any show of resentment oreven of courage by the indignity; he only gave an idiotic stare withoutstretched neck toward the front, then turned with a nervous jerk,like that of a scared beast, and rushed rearward. Further on, six menwere standing in single file behind a large beech, holding each other bythe shoulders, when with a stunning crash the entire top of the treeflew off and came down among them butt foremost, sending out a cloud ofdust and splinters. Colburne smiled grimly to see the paralyzed terrorof their upward stare, and the frantic flight which barely saved themfrom being crushed jelly. A man who keeps the ranks hates a skulker, andwishes that he may be killed, the same as any other enemy.

  "But in truth," says the Captain, in one of his letters, "the sights andsounds of this battle-reaped forest were enough to shake the firmestnerves. Never before had I been so tried as I was during that hour inthis wilderness of death. It was not the slaughter which unmanned me,for our regiment did not lose very heavily; it was the stupendous clamorof the cannonade and of the crashing trees which seemed to overwhelm meby its mere physical power; and it made me unable to bear spectacleswhich I had witnessed in other engagements with perfect composure. Whenone of our men was borne by me with half his foot torn off by a roundshot, the splintered bones projecting clean and white from the raggedraw flesh, I grew so sick that perhaps I might have fainted if a brotherofficer had not given me a sip of whiskey from his canteen. It was theonly occasion in my fighting experience when I have had to resort tothat support. I had scarcely recovered myself when I saw a broad flow ofblood stream down the face of a color-corporal who stood withinarm's-length of me. I thought he was surely a dead man; but it was onlyone of the wonderful escapes of battle. The bullet had skirted his capwhere the fore-piece joins the cloth, forcing the edge of the leatherthrough the skin, and making a clean cut to the bone from temple totemple. He went to the rear blinded and with a smart headache, but notseriously injured. That we were not slaughtered by the wholesale iswonderful, for we were closed up in a compact mass, and the shot camewith stunning rapidity. A shell burst in the centre of my company,tearing one man's heel to the bone, but doing no other damage. Thewounded man, a good soldier though as quiet and gentle as a bashfulgirl, touched his hat to me, showed his bleeding foot, and asked leaveto go to the rear, which I of course granted. While he was speaking,another shell burst about six feet from the first, doing no harm at all,although so near to Van Zandt as to dazzle and deafen him."

  Presently a section of Bainbridge's regular battery came up, windingslowly through the forest, the guns thumping over roots and fallenlimbs, the men sitting superbly erect on their horses, and thecolor-sergeant holding his battle-flag as proudly as a knight-errantever bore his pennon. In a minute the two brass Napoleons opened with asonorous _spang_, which drew a spontaneous cheer from the delightedinfantry. The edge of the wood was now reached, and Colburne could seethe enemy's position. In front of him lay a broad and curving valley,irregular in surface, and seamed in some places by rugged gorges, thewhole made more difficult of passage by a multitude of felled trees, theleafless trunks and branches of which were tangled into an inextricable_chevaux de frise_. On the other side of this valley rose a bluff ortable-land, partially covered with forest, but showing on its clearedspaces the tents and cabins of the Rebel encampments. Along the edge ofthe bluff, following its sinuosities, and at this distance looking likemere natural banks of yellow earth, ran the fortifications of PortHudson. Colburne could s
ee Paine's brigade of Weitzel's divisiondescending into the valley, forcing its bloody way through a roaringcannonade and a continuous screech of musketry.

  An order came to the commander of the Tenth to deploy two companies asskirmishers in the hollow in front of Bainbridge, and push to the leftwith the remainder of the regiment, throwing out other skirmishers andsilencing the Rebel artillery. One of the two detached companies wasColburne's, and he took command of both as senior officer. At the momentthat he filed his men out of the line a murmur ran through the regimentthat the Lieutenant-Colonel was killed or badly wounded. Then came aninquiry as to the whereabouts of the Major.

  "By Jove! it wouldn't be a dangerous job to hunt for him," chuckled VanZandt.

  "Why? Where is he?" asked Colburne.

  "I don't believe, by Jove! that I could say within a mile or two. I onlyknow, by Jove! that he is _non est inventus_. I saw him a quarter of anhour ago charging for the rear with his usual impetuosity. I'll bet myeverlasting salvation that he's in the safest spot within ten miles ofthis d----d unhealthy neighborhood."

  The senior captain took command of the regiment, and led it to the lefton a line parallel with the fortifications. Colburne descended with hislittle detachment, numbering about eighty muskets, into that Valley ofthe Shadow of Death, climbing over or creeping under the fallen trunksof the tangled labyrinth, and making straight for the bluff on whichthundered and smoked the rebel stronghold. As his men advanced theydeployed, spreading outwards like the diverging blades of a fan untilthey covered a front of nearly a quarter of a mile. Every stump, everyprostrate trunk, every knoll and gulley was a temporary breastwork, frombehind which they poured a slow but fatal fire upon the rebel gunners,who could be plainly seen upon the hostile parapet working their pieces.The officers and sergeants moved up and down the line, each behind hisown platoon or section, steadily urging it forward.

  "Move on, men. Move on, men," Colburne repeated. "Don't exposeyourselves. Use the covers; use the stumps. But keep moving on. Don'ttake root. Don't stop till we reach the ditch."

  In spite of their intelligent prudence the men were falling under theincessant flight of bullets. A loud scream from a thicket a little toColburne's right attracted his attention.

  "Who is that?" he called.

  "It is Allen!" replied a sergeant. "He is shot through the body. Shall Isend him to the rear?"

  "Not now, wait till we are relieved. Prop him up and leave him in theshade."

  He had in his mind this passage of the Army Regulations: "Soldiers mustnot be permitted to leave the ranks to strip or rob the dead, nor evento assist the wounded, unless by express permission, which is only to begiven after the action is decided. The highest interest and mostpressing duty is to win the victory, by which only can a proper care ofthe wounded be ensured."

  Turning to a soldier who had mounted a log and stood up at the fullheight of his six feet to survey the fortifications, Colburne shouted,"Jump down, you fool. You will get yourself hit for nothing."

  "Captain, I can't see a chance for a shot," replied the fellowdeliberately.

  "Get down!" reiterated Colburne; but the man had waited too longalready. Throwing up both hands he fell backward with an incoherentgurgle, pierced through the lungs by a rifle-ball. Then a little Irishsoldier burst out swearing, and hastily pulled his trousers to glare ata bullet-hole through the calf of his leg, with a comical expression ofmingled surprise, alarm and wrath. And so it went on: every few minutesthere was an oath of rage or a shriek of pain; and each outcry markedthe loss of a man. But all the while the line of skirmishers advanced.

  The sickishness which troubled Colburne in the cannon-smitten forest hadgone, and was succeeded by the fierce excitement of close battle, wherethe combatants grow angry and savage at sight of each other's faces. Hewas throbbing with elation and confidence, for he had cleaned off thegunners from the two pieces in his front. He felt as if he could takePort Hudson with his detachment alone. The contest was raging in aclamorous rattle of musketry on the right, where Paine's brigade, andfour regiments of the Reserve Brigade, all broken into detachments bygullies, hillocks, thickets and fallen trees, were struggling to turnand force the fortifications. On his left other companies of the Tenthwere slowly moving forward, deployed and firing as skirmishers. In hisfront the Rebel musketry gradually slackened, and only now and thencould he see a broad-brimmed hat show above the earth-works and hear thehoarse whistle of a Minie-ball as it passed him. The garrison on thisside was clearly both few in number and disheartened. It seemed to himlikely, yes even certain, that Port Hudson would be carried by stormthat morning. At the same time, half mad as he was with the gloriousintoxication of successful battle, he knew that it would be utter follyto push his unsupported detachment into the works, and that such amovement would probably end in slaughter or capture. Fifteen or twenty,he did not know precisely how many, of his soldiers had been hit, andthe survivors were getting short of cartridges.

  "Steady, men!" he shouted. "Halt! Take cover and hold your position.Don't waste your powder. Fire slow and aim sure."

  The orders were echoed from man to man along the extended, stragglingline, and each one disappeared behind the nearest thicket, stump orfallen tree. Colburne had already sent three corporals to the regimentto recount his success and beg for more men; but neither had themessengers reappeared nor reinforcements arrived to support his proposedassault.

  "Those fellows must have got themselves shot," he said to Van Zandt."I'll go myself. Keep the line where it is, and save the cartridges."

  Taking a single soldier with him, he hurried rearward by the clearestcourse that he could find through the prostrate forest, without mindingthe few bullets that whizzed by him. Suddenly he halted, powerless, asif struck by paralysis, conscious of a general nervous shock, and asharp pain in his left arm. His first impulse,--a very hurriedimpulse,--was to take the arm with his right hand and twist it to see ifthe bone was broken. Next he looked about him for some shelter from thescorching and crazing sunshine. He espied a green bush, and almostimmediately lost sight of it, for the shock made him faint although thepain was but momentary.

  "Are you hurt, Captain?" asked the soldier.

  "Take me to that bush," said Colburne, pointing--for he knew where thecover was, although he could not see it.

  The soldier put an arm round his waist, led him to the bush, and laidhim down.

  "Shall I go for help, Captain?"

  "No. Don't weaken the company. All right. No bones broken. Go on in aminute."

  The man tied his handkerchief about the ragged and bloody hole in thecoat-sleeve; then sat down and reloaded his musket, occasionally castinga glance at the pale face of the Captain. In two or three minutesColburne's color came back, and he felt as well as ever. He rosecarefully to his feet, looked about him as if to see where he was, andagain set off for the regiment, followed by his silent companion. Thebullets still whizzed about them, but did no harm. After a slow walk often minutes, during which. Colburne once stopped to sling his arm in ahandkerchief, he emerged from a winding gully to find himself within afew yards of Bainbridge's battery. Behind the guns was a colonel calmlysitting his horse and watching the battle.

  "What is the matter?" asked the Colonel.

  "A flesh wound," said Colburne. "Colonel, there is a noble chance aheadof you. Do you see that angle? My men are at the base of it, and some ofthem in the ditch. They have driven the artillerymen from the guns, andforced the infantry to lie low. For God's sake send in your regiment. Wecan certainly carry the place."

  "The entire brigade that I command is engaged," replied the Colonel."Don't you see them on the right of your position?"

  "Is there no other force about here?" asked Colburne, sitting down as hefelt the dizziness coming over him again.

  "None that I know of. This is such an infernal country for movementsthat we are all dislocated. Nobody knows where anything is.--But you hadbetter go to the rear, Captain. You look used up."

  Colburne was so tire
d, so weak with the loss of blood, so worn out bythe heat of the sun, and the excitement of fighting that he could nothelp feeling discouraged at the thought of struggling back to theposition of his company. He stretched himself under a tree to rest, andin ten minutes was fast asleep. When he awoke--he never knew how longafterwards--he could not at first tell what he remembered from what hehad dreamed, and only satisfied himself that he had been hit by lookingat his bloody and bandaged arm. An artilleryman brought him to his fullconsciousness by shouting excitedly, "There, by God! they are trying acharge. The infantry are trying a charge."

  Colburne rose up, saw a regiment struggling across the valley, and heardits long-drawn charging yell.

  "I must go back," he exclaimed. "My men ought to go in and support thosefellows." Turning to the soldier who attended him he added, "Run! TellVan Zandt to forward."

  The soldier ran, and Colburne after him. But he had not gone twentypaces before he fell straight forward on his face, without a word, andlay perfectly still.