XXVII.
THE SKIRMISH.
The night and the storm passed, and day dawned on Roanoke Island.
No reveille roused up the soldiers. Silently from their drenched, coldbeds, they arose and prepared for the rough day's work before them.
The morning was chill and wet, the rain still dripping from the trees.Far in the cypress swamps the lone birds piped their matin songs--theonly sounds in those dim solitudes, so soon to be filled with the roar ofbattle.
Ten thousand men had been landed from the fleet; and now ten thousandhearts were beating high in anticipation of the conflict.
The line of advance lay along the road, which run in a northerlydirection through the centre of the island. Across this road the rebelshad erected their most formidable battery, with seemingly impenetrableswamps on either side, an ample space cleared for the play of their gunsin front, and felled trees all around.
General Foster's brigade took the advance, having with it a battery oftwelve-pounders from the fleet, to operate on the enemy's front. GeneralReno followed, with orders to penetrate on the left the frightful lagoonsand thickets which protected the enemy's flank. A third column, underGeneral Parke, brought up the rear.
General Foster rode forward with his staff into the woods, and made areconnoissance. The line of pickets opened to let the brigade passthrough. Not a drum was beat. Slowly, in silence, occasionally halting,regiment succeeded regiment, in perfect order, with heavy muffled tramp.
Along the forest road they passed, the men laughing and joking in highspirits, as if marching to a parade. The still, beautiful light of theinnocent morning silvered the trees. The glistering branches archedabove; the glistening stream of steel flowed beneath. Wreaths of vines,beards of moss, trailed their long fringes and graceful drapery from theboughs. The breeze shook down large shining drops, and every bush asoldier touched threw off its dancing shower.
"'And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, dewy with nature'stear-drops, as they pass,'" remarked Seth Tucket.
"Come, none o' your solemncholy poetry to-day," said Jack Winch. "I neverfelt so jolly in my life. There's only one kind of poetry I want to hear,and that's the pouring of our volleys into the rebels."
"The pouring of their volleys into us ain't quite so desirable, Isuppose," said Harris.
"There wouldn't be much fun without some danger," said Jack.
"If that's fun, I guess Winch 'll have fun enough before we're throughwith this job," remarked Ellis.
"What a long road it is!" cried Jack, impatiently.
"We'll come to a short turn in it pretty soon," said Atwater,significantly.
"Well, Abe has spoken!" said Jack. "His mouth has been shut so tight allalong, I didn't think 'twould open till the time comes for him to cryquarter."
"Atwater means to let his gun speak for him to-day," said Harris.
"What do we go so slow for? Why don't we hurry on?" said Jack. "I want toget at the rebels some time this week. I don't believe they----"
He was going to say that he didn't believe they would wait to fire ashot. But even as he spoke the confutation of his opinion resounded inthe woods. Crack--crack--crack--went the rebel muskets; then followed avolley from the troops in advance.
"Why didn't you finish your sentence, Jack?" said Harris, with a smile.
"They're at it!" whispered Jack, in a changed voice.
"A little skirmishing," said Atwater, quietly.
Crack, crack, again; and--_sing!_--came a bullet over the heads of themen, cutting the leaves as it passed.
"Too high," laughed Gray, coolly.
"Halt!" come the command, which John Winch, for one, obeyed with amazingpromptness.
"Hallo, Jack!" said Ellis; "who taught you to halt before the word isgiven?"
"Are they going to keep us standing here all day?" said Jack, presently.
"He's as wide awake now to be on the move as he was to stop," laughedHarris.
"Well," said Jack, nervously, "who likes to stand still and be shot at?"
"There's no shooting at us," replied Harris. "When it comes to that,we'll see the fun you talk about."
Fun! Jack's countenance looked like any thing but fun just then.
He gained some confidence by observing the officers coolly giving theirorders, and the men coolly executing them, as if nothing of importancehad happened, or was expected to happen.
Captain Edney deployed his company, pressing forward into the swamp.Bushes and fallen logs impeded their progress; the mud and water were inplaces leg-deep; and the men were permitted to pick their way as bestthey could. Suddenly out of a thicket a bullet came whizzing. Another andanother followed. One tore the bark from a tree close by Captain Edney'shead.
"Keep cool, boys!" he said; "and aim low."
He then gave the order, "Commence firing!" and the front rank men,halting, poured their volley into the thicket--their first shot at theenemy. Whilst they were reloading, the second rank advanced and deliveredtheir fire.
"Don't waste a shot, my brave fellows!" cried the captain. "Fire whereveryou see signs of a rebel. Always aim at _something_."
This last order was a very useful one; for many, in the excitement ofcoming for the first time under fire, were inclined to let off theirpieces at random in the air; and the deliberation required to take aim,if only at a bush behind which a rebel might be concealed, had anexcellent effect in quieting the nerves.
Yet some needed no such instruction. Atwater was observed to load andfire with as steady a hand and as serene a countenance as if he had beenpractising at a target. Others were equally calm and determined. Therewere some, however, even of the brave, who, from constitutionalexcitability, and not from any cowardice of spirit, exhibited symptoms ofnervousness. Their cheeks paled and their hands shook. But, the momentarytremor past, these men become perhaps the most resolute and efficient ofall.
Such a one was Frank; who, though in the rear of the regiment, with theambulance corps, felt his heart beat so wildly at the first whiz of abullet over his head, that he was afraid he was going to be afraid.
Was Jack Winch another of the sort? It was pitiful to see him attempt toload his piece. He never knew how it happened, but, instead of acartridge, he got hold of the tompion,--called by the boys the"tompin,"--used to stop the muzzle of the gun and protect it frommoisture, and was actually proceeding to ram it down the barrel before hediscovered his mistake!
"Take a cartridge, Winch!" said Captain Edney, who was coolly noting theconduct of his men.
So Jack, throwing away the stopper, took a cartridge. But his hand shook_around_ the muzzle of the gun so that it was some time before he couldinsert the charge. He had already dodged behind a tree, the men beingallowed to shelter themselves when they could.
"Dry ground is scarce as hen's teeth!" remarked Seth Tucket, droll asever, looking for a good place to stand while he was loading.
"Fun, ain't it?" said Ned Ellis, who had sought cover by the same treewith Winch.
He stood at Jack's left hand, and a little behind him. Jack, too muchagitated to respond to the unseasonable jest, threw up the barrel of hispiece, in order to prime, when a bullet came, from nobody knew where,aslant, and put an end to jesting for the present.
Jack felt a benumbing shock, and dropped his gun, the stock of which hadbeen shivered in his grasp. At the same instant Ellis dropped his gunalso, and threw out his hands wildly, exclaiming,--
"I am shot!"
And both fell to the ground together.
"That's what ye call two birds with one stun!" said Tucket, a flash offerocity kindling his face as he saw his comrades fall. "Pay 'em forthat, boys! Pay 'em for that!"
And hearing the order to charge the thicket, he went forward with a yell,taking strides that would have done credit to a moose in his own nativewoods of Maine.
Ellis had by this time got upon his feet again. But Jack lay still, hisneck bathed in blood.
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The Drummer Boy Page 28