CHAPTER XXII
THE LONE SENTINEL
The desultory firing troubled the ears of Talbot as he trod to and froon his self-imposed task, as he could not see the use of it. The day forfighting and the night for sleep and rest was the perfect division of asoldier's life.
The tail of the battle writhed on without regard for his feelings ortheories, though its efforts became gradually feebler, and he hoped thatby and by the decent part of both armies would settle into lethargy,leaving the night to the skirmishers, who never sleep and are withoutconscience.
He went back a little to an open spot where a detail of about twenty menwere posted. But he did not remain with them long. Securing a rifle, hereturned toward the enemy, resolved to watch on his own account--avoluntary picket.
Talbot was not troubled for his friends alone. The brigade had beenbeaten and driven back upon the river, and with the press of numbersagainst it he feared that the next day would bring its destruction. Thecoming of the night, covering friend and foe alike and making activityhazardous, was opportune, since it would give his comrades time to restand gather their strength for the stand in the morning. He could hearbehind him even now the heavy tread of the beaten companies as theysought their places in the darkness, the clank of gun wheels, and nowand then the neigh of a tired horse.
The crash of a volley and another volley which answered came from hisright, and then there was a spatter of musketry, stray shots followingeach other and quickly dying away. Talbot saw the flash of the guns, andthe smell of burnt gunpowder came to his nostrils. He made a movementof impatience, for the powder poisoned the pure air. He heard the shoutsof men, but they ceased in a few moments, and then farther away a cannonboomed. More volleys of rifle shots and the noise of the cheering or itsecho came from his left; but unable to draw meaning from the tumult, heconcluded at last it was only the smouldering embers of the battle andcontinued to walk his voluntary beat with steady step.
The night advanced and the rumbling in the encampment behind him did notcease at all, the sounds remaining the same as they were earlier in theevening--that is, the drum of many feet upon the earth, the rattle ofmetal and the hum of many voices. Talbot concluded that the men wouldnever go to sleep, but presently a light shot up in the darkness behindhim, rising eight or ten feet above the earth and tapering at the top toa blue-and-pink point. Presently another arose beside it, and thenothers and still others, until there were thirty, forty, fifty or more.
Talbot knew these were the campfires and he wondered why they had notbeen lighted before. At last the men would go to sleep beside thecheerful blaze. The fires comforted him, too, and he looked upon therosy flame of each, shining there in the darkness, as he would havelooked upon a personal friend. They took away much of his lonelyfeeling, and as they bent a little before the wind seemed to nod to hima kind of encouragement in the dangerous work upon which he had sethimself. He could see only the tops of these rosy cones; all below washidden by the bushes that grew between. He could not see even the dimfigure of a soldier, but he knew that they were there, stretched out inlong rows before the fires, asleep in their blankets, while others stoodby on their arms, ready for defense should the pickets be driven in.
The troublesome skirmishers seemed to be resting just then, for no onefired at him and he could not hear them moving in the woods. Thescattering shots down the creek ceased and the noises in the camp beganto die. It seemed as if night were about to claim her own at last andput everybody to rest. The fires rose high and burned with a steadyflame.
A stick broke under his feet with a crackling noise as he walked to andfro, and a bullet sang through the darkness past his ear. He fired atthe flash of the rifle, and as he ran back and forth fired five or sixtimes more, slipping in the bullets as quickly as he could, for hewished to create an illusion that the patrol consisted of at least adozen men. The opposing skirmishers returned his fire with spirit, andTalbot heard their bullets clipping the twigs and pattering among theleaves, but he felt no great alarm, since the night covered him and onlya chance ball could strike him.
His opponents were wary, and only two or three times did he see theshadows which he knew to be their moving figures. He fired at these butno answering cry came, and Talbot could not tell whether any of hisbullets struck, though it did not matter. His lead served well enough asa warning, and the skirmishers must know that the nearer they came thebetter aim they would have to face. Presently their fire ceased and hewas disappointed, as his blood had risen to fever heat and he was infighting humour.
The night went on its slow way, and Talbot, stopping a moment to restand listen for the skirmishers, calculated that it was not more than twohours until day. The long period through which he had watched began topress upon him. Weights dragged at his feet, and he noticed that hisrifle when he shifted it from one shoulder to the other appeared manypounds heavier than before. His knees grew stiff and he felt like an oldman; but he allowed himself no rest, continuing his walk back and forthat a slower pace, for he believed he could feel his joints grate as hestepped. He looked at the fires with longing and was tempted to go; butno, he must atone for the neglect of that chief of brigade.
Just when the night seemed to be darkest the skirmishers made anotherattack, rushing forward in a body, firing with great vigour andshouting, though hitherto they had fought chiefly in silence. Talbotconsidered it an attempt to demoralize him and was ready for it. Heretreated a little, sheltered himself behind a tree and opened fire,skipping between shots from one tree to another in order that he mightprotect the whole of his battle line and keep his apparent numbers attheir height.
His assailants were so near now that he could see some of them springingabout, and one of his shots was followed by a cry of pain and thedisappearance of the figure. After that the fire of his antagonistsdiminished and soon ceased. They had shown much courage, but seemed tothink that the defenders were in superior numbers and a further advancewould mean their own destruction.
Again silence came, save for the hum of the camp. The fires burntbrightly behind him, and far off in front he saw the flickering fires ofthe enemy. As the wind increased the lights wavered and the cones splitinto many streams of flame before it. The leaves and boughs whistled inthe rush of air and the waters of the creek sang a minor chord on theshallows. Talbot had heard these sounds a hundred times when a boy inthe wilderness of the deep woods, and it was easy enough for him tocarry himself back there, with no army or soldier near. But he quicklydismissed such thoughts as would lull him only into neglect of hiswatch. After having kept it so long and so well it would be the heightof weakness to fail now, when day could not be much more than two hoursdistant.
The silence remained unbroken. An hour passed and then another, and inthe east he saw a faint shade of dark gray showing through the black asif through a veil.
The gray tint brightened and the black veil became thinner. Soon itparted and a bar of light shot across the eastern horizon, broadeningrapidly till the world of hills, fields and forests rose up from thedarkness. A trumpet sounded in the hostile camp.
Skirmishers filled the woods in front of Talbot and pressed toward himin a swarm.
"Surrender!" cried out one of them, an officer. "It is useless for youto resist! We are a hundred and you are one! Don't you see?"
Talbot turned and looked back at the fires burning in the empty camp ofhis comrades. The light of the morning showed everything, even to thelast boat-load of the beaten brigade landing on the farther shore; heunderstood all.
"Yes, I will surrender," he said, as his eyes gleamed with suddencomprehension of his great triumph, "but I've held you back till thelast company of our division has passed the river and is safe."
Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond Page 22