From School to Battle-field: A Story of the War Days

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  War was a new, strange, and terrible thing to George Lawton. For a fewminutes after his thrilling adventure, while the soldiers were bindingwith bed-cords the wrists of the three unscathed captives, and Stark andFlint were ministering to the wounded officer, Snipe leaned against atree, the same feeling of nausea and faintness overcoming him now as itdid one day when he saw the brutal beating of an Irish wagoner on FourthAvenue. Others of the New England men were searching the premises fromgarret to cellar, finding no human beings but two trembling old negroes,who had never been allowed to regard themselves as possessed of anyrights a white man was bound to respect. The prisoners, sullen,scowling, and very much amazed that such a thing could happen on thesacred soil of Virginia, refused to answer questions as to the owners ofthe place. The young officer was only just recovering from the swoonthat followed upon the shock of his wound, but the darkies humbly toldall they knew. They were household servants,--slaves, of course. Thefarm was owned by a wealthy resident of Alexandria. The farmer and hisfamily had gone. The young officer was "Marse Grayson," a nephew of theowner. The other gentlemen belonged to his troop in the cavalry, andthere were four more of them somewhere over toward Centreville. They hadbeen round there for several days, and signalling to their comrades overwhere "Marse Henry" and "Marse Robinson" lived, on the heights beyondBull Run. Up in the attic the New-Englanders found candles, a polishedtin reflector, and a flat board screen that just fitted in the window. Afine telescope and smaller field-glass were also there. A bountifulspread was on the table in the dining-room. The larder and cellar werewell stocked, and the men from the land of steady habits did not disdainto "sample" the fluid refreshment found in the cool depths below thehouse or the delicacies in the pantry. Out in a wooden shed were fourfine horses, with new saddles and bridles. Opulence was the rule in theConfederacy the first few months of the war; and now the sergeant andhalf a dozen men moved out to the front gate to look for those fourtroopers who were supposed to interpose between their feasting comradesand the possibility of surprise from the direction of the Yankees, andwho, so early in the war, had not dreamed of foemen coming from thesouth. Possibly they had heard the sound of shots at the farm-house andwould come galloping back to ascertain the cause. The young officer wasreviving. The flow of blood was stanched. He was laid upon a mattressand, with six men to carry him, was started down the slope toward themain body at the bridge. Stark then ordered the party to bring thehorses, captives, arms,--everything that could be considered legitimatespoil of war,--and follow at once. The signal outfit was smashed, andFlint, a veteran of the old Covenanter type, was for burning the house,which Stark forbade, if for no other reason than that it would instantlybring patrols of Southern cavalry out to inquire the cause. Indeed, itwas a problem with him what to do about the signals. Through thepowerful glass he was able to see that the light still burned on thedistant heights to the south, and at any moment it might brightly blazeagain, asking some question and demanding reply. "Better let them wastetime in endeavors to extract an answer than lose none in galloping overto investigate a fire," he reasoned, and then turned to where his youngorderly stood, again silently holding the reins of the horses.

  "We will push ahead," he said, as he mounted. A few minutes of searchand they found the gap in the rail-fence, and overtook the partycarrying the wounded Confederate. His youth and gentle breeding had bothimpressed the taciturn major, and now the fortitude which enabled himwithout a moan to bear the pain of this swaying motion roused themajor's admiration. "Gently, men. There's no hurry. We'll have asurgeon for you in a short time, lieutenant," he said, encouragingly,then spurred on to rejoin his battalion at the bridge. Sharp and clearcame the "Halt! Who goes there?" of the northernmost sentry, and Starkreined back instantly as he answered, "Friends,--Major Stark andorderly." "Dismount, both," was the order, as from a dew-dripping clumpof blackberry-bushes the rifle-barrel glinted in the starlight. A darkform came running up from the rear, bayonet advanced, and peeredsearchingly into the major's face. They had no countersign, but thoselads had learned their duty from a veteran colonel who had practised itbefore the Seminoles, the Sioux, and Mexicans, too, and Stark could notforbear a word of praise to both sentry and corporal as he bade thelatter summon the officer of the guard. In ten minutes the entiredetachment, with its prisoners, was safe within the wakeful lines, andthe whole battalion roused up as one man to welcome and rejoice. A yearlater the incident would have been too trivial to stir a man from sleep.Now it was of tremendous importance. Eagerly Flint's men were detailingtheir share in the exploit, some of them, exhilarated both by the eventand the potent apple-jack, telling rather more than their share. Gentlythe bearers laid the young officer under the trees. Stark motioned backthe inquisitive circle that promptly formed, gave his patient a longpull at a flask and another of cool spring water from a canteen, andthen gently asked him which he would prefer,--to be carried intoCentreville or wait there until a surgeon could come out.

  "I do not care," said the wounded boy, with a sigh. "Can't you suppressthis somehow?"

  "The bleeding?" asked Stark, anxiously. "Why, I thought I had."

  "No,--the whole business. I don't want mother to know I'm hurt."

  Stark scratched a match and looked at his watch. Just twenty-fiveminutes past eleven. In half an hour, as Upton said, the army would beastir and moving. There would be many another name added to the listbefore the setting of another sun. Already, North and South, the paperswere ablaze with tidings of that misguided "reconnoissance in force"toward Blackburn's Ford, which had felled some sixty men on each side,sent Tyler's men back to Centreville disgusted, and inspired those ofLongstreet and Ewell with a craze of undeserved triumph. By two o'clockin the morning the column of Hunter and Heintzelman would be crossingthat guarded bridge on the way to the upper ford, but they would notwish to be burdened with wounded and prisoners when going into action.The battalion would undoubtedly be ordered to join its own regiment asit came tramping along. The general might extract from these prisonersinformation which would be of value. Stark's mind was made up quickly. Alieutenant and half a dozen men were selected as guards, another six tocarry the mattress and wounded prisoner. Lieutenant Payne was given hischoice of the captured horses while Stark wrote brief report of theaffair. In ten minutes everybody was ready. Still bound with bed-cords,the three silent rebs were bidden to fall in, and then for the firsttime did Stark open his lips to his orderly since the brief words at thefarm. In the hearing of half his little command, the major turned towhere the latter stood, silent and a trifle awed and wearied.

  "Lawton," said he, "I send you back to the general with this party fortwo reasons: first, because you know the way and can guide them; second,because you made to-night the most important capture of the campaignthus far, and I mean that you shall have full credit."

  For a minute there wasn't a sound. Snipe felt dizzy with the sense ofinstant elation, following as it did the languor and depression of themoment before. Then some sympathetic soul among the listeners began asoft clapping of the hands. The example was contagious. Before arepressing word could be heard, the New-Englanders gave vent to theirfeelings in a volley of hearty, if suppressed applause. The major had toorder silence and caution. Then handing a folded paper to his orderly,with a grim smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder, bade him mount andbe off, and like a boy in some wild dream, incredulous, unrealizing,yet with a heart throbbing with thankfulness, George Lawton remountedand rode out into the starlight, over the echoing bridge, and took thefront of the little detachment, his cheeks, so pale awhile ago, burningnow with pride and hope, his thoughts drifting back to mother and theboys. What wouldn't Shorty give to be in his place this night?

  An hour later a knot of newspaper correspondents, orderlies, stragglers,and servants clustered about the party as it rested in the starlight infront of an old Virginia homestead. On a bed in the rear room thesurgeons had laid the wounded Confederate. In the main room, with two orthree of his staff and h
alf a dozen correspondents pencil-driving abouthim, sat the commanding general. Before him, silent and respectful,stood brown-eyed, long-legged Snipe. The camp lanterns burned brightlyon mantel and table. The sound of many voices, low-toned but impatient,came from without. Something had blocked the road in front, and themarch of the rear divisions was stayed. The general was vexed, as allcould see,--impatient and indignant. But as he read the pencilled lines,handed him by the adjutant-general, something like pleasure shone on hisflorid, soldierly face.

  "You chose the right man, Burnside," he suddenly exclaimed, as he turnedto a stalwart, heavily whiskered officer who entered at the moment, cladin a pleated flannel blouse, with heavy riding-boots and breeches."Look at this," he added, handing up the brief despatch. "I wish I couldinject as much sense into some--generals." Then he turned on Snipe, hisstern face relaxing:

  "You have done admirably, my lad. How old are you?"

  For a moment the light went out of Lawton's eyes, giving way to troubleand embarrassment. He twisted his forage-cap in his trembling fingers.At last, huskily, but with reviving hope, he answered.

  "I told them I was eighteen. To-night I tried to prove I was as good asmy word."

  A smile went round the room. The general beamed.

  "You answer well, sir, and you do well. Major Stark probably can't spareyou or you should join my head-quarters' party and wear the chevrons ofa sergeant. Look after this young gentleman, captain, and see that hehas coffee and supper before he starts back," he said to one of hisaides, who had been silently gazing at the orderly's face. "Yourregiment's time expires next week. Perhaps you would like to come to methen. If so, there'll be a place for you, and meanwhile the home peoplewill be proud when they read in Monday's papers how their boy capturedthe first rebel officer at Bull Run."

  And with these words ringing in his ears, the lad was marched away to ashed outside where aides and officers of every rank were snatching ahurried bite from a camp-table, and here he was regaled with sandwichesand coffee, and plied with questions by men whose pencils sped like madover their pads of paper, and they noted instantly his embarrassmentwhen they asked him about home and parents.

  "I have no home," he said, simply. "My father has been dead some years.My mother remarried. I've been making my own way, and that's all thereis to it." But more they would have. His name, of course, was known."George Lawton, private, Company 'C,' First New England, orderly toMajor Stark," and at last the lad said his mother lived in Rhinebeck,her name was Park, and then he broke away in search of the young captainto whose care the general had committed him. There was something oddlyfamiliar about that officer's face as he greeted Snipe again.

  "Come in here," said he, leading the way within the hall, and thence toa little bedroom. Then he turned and faced the wondering lad. "Haven't Iseen you at the Primes' in Fourteenth Street," said he, "and aren't youRegy Prime's--Shorty's--chum whom they called Snipe?"

  There was no answer for a moment, but out came both the young captain'shands in cordial clasp. "Why, of course you are! I was sure I had seenyour face before. I'm one of Pop's old boys myself, and there are moreof them round here. Shorty's uncle isn't a mile away at this minute.Lots more of the tribe are somewhere with the army. Why, your teacher,Beach, is with General Wilcox. He was a classmate of mine, and we're allproud of you, Snipe. Now you've got to get back to your major to-night,and I suppose all of us will be fighting to-morrow. However, don't youforget what the general said. Come to him when your regiment goes homenext week it you want to stay in service, and go on to Richmond withus."

  Alas for soldier hope and projects! Long before the midnight hour cameagain all the general's army, some of it in mad panic, was rolling backon Washington. The Monday morning papers, indeed, gave thrilling accountof the heroism of Private George Lawton in capturing at the risk of hislife a daring young rebel officer of the famous Black Horse Cavalry.Then there were details of Lawton's prospective promotion, and of thegeneral's complimentary remarks, and Monday morning's papers teemed,too, with tremendous tales of battle, and all Gotham cheered itselfhoarse over the vivid reports of the annihilation of the rebel cavalryby the terrific fighters of the Fire Zouaves. But by noon came othertidings and a turn in the tide,--by afternoon details of fell disaster."The Fire Zouaves annihilated by the cavalry!" was the way it read now."Our splendid batteries swallowed up and gone." "Our army cut topieces." Many generals, colonels, and captains killed. Hosts of gallantsoldiers slain, and at last, when full reports--authentic reports--werepublished a long week later, among the wounded and missing were thenames of Major James Stark and Corporal George Lawton, of the First NewEngland, and Sergeant Keating, of the famous Fire Zouaves.