CHAPTER XVIII.
THE RIDE OF THE SIX HUNDRED.
What Morgan's thoughts were, what his hopes were, as he rode away fromthat fatal field at Buffington Island, no one knows. With him rode sixhundred, all that were left of three thousand. He could have had nothoughts of attempting to cross the Ohio anywhere near Buffington Island,for he rode almost due north. It may have been he thought that he mightcross near Wheeling or higher up, and escape into the mountains of WesternPennsylvania; or as a last resort, he might reach Lake Erie, seize asteamboat, and escape to Canada. Whatever he thought, north he rode,through the most populous counties of Ohio. And what a ride was that forsix hundred men! Foes everywhere; Home Guards springing up at everycorner; no rest day or night.
Close in his rear thundered the legions of General Shackelford, aKentuckian as brave, as fearless, as tireless as Morgan himself. But inspite of all opposition, in spite of foes gathering on right and left andin front, Morgan rode on, sweeping through the counties of Meigs, Vinton,Hocking, Athens, Washington, Morgan, Muskingum, Guernsey, Belmont,Harrison, Jefferson, until he reached Columbiana County, where the endcame.
At almost every hour during this ride the six hundred grew less. Men fellfrom their horses in exhaustion. They slept as they rode, keeping to theirsaddles as by instinct. The terrible strain told on every one. The mengrew haggard, emaciated. When no danger threatened, they rode as dead men,but once let a rifle crack in front, and their sluggish blood would flowlike fire through their veins, their eyes would kindle with the excitementof battle, and they would be Morgan's fierce raiders once more.
As for Calhoun, it seemed as if he never slept, never tired. It was as ifhis frame were made of iron. Where danger threatened there he was. He wasforemost in every charge. It looked as if he bore a charmed life. The daybefore the end came he was scouting on a road, parallel to the one onwhich the main body was travelling. Hearing shots, he took a cross-road,and galloped at full speed to see what was the trouble. A small party ofHome Guards were retreating at full speed; one far in advance of theothers was making frantic efforts to urge his horse to greater speed.Calhoun saw that he could cut him off, and he did so, reaching the roadjust as he came abreast of it. So intent was the fellow on getting away hedid not notice Calhoun until brought to a stand by the stern command,"Surrender."
In his surprise and terror, the man rolled from his horse, the picture ofthe most abject cowardice Calhoun ever saw. He fairly grovelled in thedust. "Don't kill me! Don't kill me!" he cried, raising his hands insupplication. "I didn't want to come; they forced me. I never did anythingagainst you."
Dismounting Calhoun gave him a kick which sent him rolling. "Get up, youblubbering calf," he exclaimed, "and tell us what you know."
The fellow staggered to his feet, his teeth chattering, and trembling likea leaf.
"Now, answer my questions, and see that you tell the truth," said Calhoun."Are there any forces in front of us?"
"N--not--not as I know," he managed to say.
"Do you know the shortest road to Salineville?"
"Yes; yes."
"Will you guide us there if I spare your life?"
"Anything, I will do anything, if you won't kill me," he whined.
"Very well, but I will exchange horses with you, as I see you are riding afine one, and he looks fresh," remarked Calhoun.
The exchange was made, and then Calhoun said, "Now lead on, and at thefirst sign of treachery, I will blow out your brains. Do you understand?"
"Yes, yes, I will take you the shortest road."
"What's your name," asked Calhoun, as they rode along.
"Andrew Harmon."
"Well, Andrew, I wish all Yankees were like you. If they were, we shouldhave no trouble whipping the North. I reckon you are about as big a cowardas I ever met."
Harmon, still white and trembling, did not answer; he was too thoroughlycowed.
Ride as hard as Morgan's men could, when they neared SalinevilleShackelford was pressing on their rear. They had either to fight orsurrender.
"My brave boys, you have done all that mortals can do. I cannot bear tosee you slaughtered. I will surrender."
As Morgan said this his voice trembled. It was a word his men had neverheard him use before.
"General, it is not all over for you," cried Calhoun, his voice quiveringwith emotion. "Think of the joy of the Yankees if you should be captured.Let me take half the men. You take the other half and escape. I can holdthe enemy in check until you get well away."
Morgan demurred. "The sacrifice will be too great," he said.
"You must, you shall consent. We will force you," the cry went up from thewhole command as from one man.
Morgan bowed his head, he could not speak. In silence he took Calhoun'shand, tears gathered in his eyes, the first tears Calhoun ever saw there.There was a strong clasp, a clasp which seemed to say "It may be thelast," then, wheeling his horse, Morgan galloped swiftly away, followed byless than half of his six hundred.
There was not a moment to lose, for the Federals were already chargingdown with triumphant cheers, confident of an easy victory. Calhoun hadposted his men well, and a withering volley sent the Federals reelingback. They charged again, only to recoil before the fierce fire of theConfederates. There was now a lull in the fighting. Calhoun saw that theywere flanking him on the right and left. "Charge!" he shouted, and thelittle band were soon in the midst of their enemies. The Federals closedin around them. There was no way to retreat. Calhoun's men, seeing howhopeless the fight was, began to throw down their arms.
"Surrender," cried a fine-looking officer to Calhoun, who, well in front,was fighting like a demon. Even in that hell of battle Calhoun knew theofficer. It was Mark Crawford, the captain whose horse he had captured inTennessee, and whom he afterwards took prisoner at Cave City. But thecaptain was wearing the shoulder-straps of a major now.
"Never!" shouted Calhoun, in answer to the summons to surrender, and withsword in hand, he spurred forward to engage Crawford in single combat. Butthat officer had a revolver in his hand, and he raised it and fired.
Calhoun felt as if he had been struck on the head with a red-hot iron. Hereeled in his saddle, and then fell forward on his horse's neck. His sworddropped from his nerveless hand. His horse, wild with fear and not feelingthe restraining hand of a master, broke through the ranks of the Federals,and bore him out of the conflict.
Still clinging to the neck of his horse and the horn of his saddle, hekept his seat. He straightened himself up, but the blood streaming overhis face blinded him, and he saw not where he was going. Neither did herealize what had happened, for the shock of his wound had rendered himhalf-unconscious. His mind began to wander. He was a soldier no longer,but a boy back in Kentucky running a race with his cousin Fred.
"On! on! Salim," he weakly shouted; "we must win, it is for the SunnySouth we are racing."
The horse still ran at full speed, his glossy coat dripping withperspiration, his nostrils widely distended and showing red with blood.But his pace began to slacken. Darkness gathered before the eyes ofCalhoun. "Why, it's getting night," he murmured; "Fred, where are you?"Lower still lower he sank, until he was once more grasping the neck of hishorse. A deadly faintness seized him, total darkness was around him, andhe knew no more.
With Calhoun gone, all resistance to the Federals ceased. Of the sixhundred, who had ridden so far and so well, fully one-half were prisoners.
The Federals were greatly chagrined and disappointed when they found thatMorgan was not among the prisoners. The man they desired above all otherswas still at liberty. "Forward," was the command, and the pursuit wasagain taken up.
With the remnant of his command, Morgan was nearing New Lisbon. If therewere no foes before him there was still hope. From a road to the west ofthe one he was on, a cloud of dust was rising. His guide told him thatthis road intersected the one he was on but a short distance ahead. Hisadvance came dashing back, saying
there was a large body of Federal troopsin his front. From the rear came the direful tidings that Shackelford wasnear. Morgan saw, and his lip quivered. "It is no use," he said, "it isall over."
The ride of the six hundred had ended--a ride that will ever live in songand story.
"Morgan has surrendered! Morgan is a prisoner!" was the news borne onlightning wings all over the entire North.
What rejoicing there was among the Federals! The great raider, the manthey feared more than an army with banners, was in their power.
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