Part 9 (1/2)

Then he saw a bush only a dozen yards in his front move a little, and a face peered through its branches. There was yet enough light for him to see that the face was youthful, eager and handsome. It was familiar, too, and then with a shock he remembered. Woodville, the lad with whom he had fought such a good fight, nature's weapons used, was before him.

d.i.c.k raised his rifle. Young Woodville was an easy target. But the motion was only a physical impulse. He knew in his heart that he had no intention of shooting the young Southerner, and he did not feel the slightest tinge of remorse because he evaded this part of a soldier's work.

Yet Woodville, seeing n.o.body and hearing nothing, would come on. d.i.c.k, holding his rifle in the crook of his left arm, drew a pistol and fired it over the lad's head. At the same moment he dropped almost flat upon the ground. The bullet cut the leaves above Woodville and he sprang back, startled. A half-dozen Southern skirmishers fired at the flash of d.i.c.k's pistol, but he, too, lying on the ground, heard them cutting leaves over his head.

d.i.c.k saw the face of Woodville disappear from the bush, and then he crept away, rejoining Colonel Winchester and his comrades. Five minutes later the skirmish ceased by mutual consent, and each band fell back on its own army, convinced that both were on the watch.

They were to advance at four o'clock in the morning, but Pennington's prediction came true. After midnight, flashes of lightning cut the sky and the thunder rolled heavily. Then the rain came, not any fugitive shower, but hard, cold and steady, promising to last many hours.

It was still pouring when the advance began before dawn, but Grant's plans were complete. He had drawn up his forces on the chessboard, and they were converging closely upon Jackson. They must keep their cartridges dry and advance at all costs.

The Winchesters were in the van in a muddy road. d.i.c.k, Warner and Pennington were in the saddle, and they were wet through and through. The rain and dusk were so heavy that they could not see fifty feet, and they s.h.i.+vered with cold. But their souls were eager and high, and they were glad when the army toiled slowly forward to battle.

CHAPTER VII. THE LITTLE CAPITAL

d.i.c.k was bent down in his saddle, trying to protect himself a little from the driving rain which beat in his eyes and soaked through his clothing. Warner and Pennington beside him were in the same condition, and he saw just before him the bent back of Colonel Winchester, with his left arm raised as a s.h.i.+eld for his face. Hoofs and wheels made a heavy, sticky sound as they sank in the mud, and were then pulled out again.

”Do you see any signs of daylight, d.i.c.k?” asked Pennington.

”Not a sign. I see only a part of our regiment, trees on either side of us bending before the wind, and rain, and mud, mud everywhere. I'll be glad when it's over.”

”So will I,” said Warner. ”I wonder what kind of hotels they have in Jackson. I'd like to have a bath, good room and a big breakfast.”

”The Johnnies are holding breakfast for you,” said Pennington. ”Their first course is gunpowder, their second bullets, their third sh.e.l.ls and shrapnel, and their fourth bayonets.”

”They'll have to serve a lot at every course,” said d.i.c.k, ”because General Grant is advancing with fifty thousand men, and so many need a lot of satisfying.”

The storm increased in violence. The rain, falling in a deluge, was driven by a wind like a hurricane. The horses strove to turn their heads from it, and confusion arose among the cavalry. The infantry mixed in the mud swore heavily. Staff officers had the utmost difficulty in keeping the regiments together. It was time for the sun, but it did not appear. Everything was veiled in clouds and driving rain.

d.i.c.k looked at his watch, and saw that it was seven o'clock. They had intended to attack at this hour, but further advance was impossible for the time, and, bending their heads, they sought to protect their ammunition. Presently they started again and toiled along slowly and painfully for more than two hours. Then, just as they saw the enemy ahead of them, the storm seemed to reach the very zenith of its fury.

d.i.c.k, in the vanguard, beheld earthworks, cannon and troops before Jackson, but the storm still drove so hard that the Union forces could not advance to the a.s.sault.

”This is certainly a most unusual situation,” said Colonel Winchester, with an effort at cheerfulness. ”Here we are, ready to attack, and the Southerners are ready to defend, but a storm holds us both fast in our tracks. Our duty to protect our cartridges is even greater than our duty to attack the enemy.”

”The biggest rain must come to an end,” said d.i.c.k.

But it was nearly noon before they could advance. Then, as the storm decreased rapidly the trumpets sounded the charge, and horse, foot and artillery, they pressed forward eagerly through the mud.

The sun broke through the clouds, and d.i.c.k saw before them a wood, a ravine full of thickets, and the road commanded by strong artillery. The Northern skirmishers were already stealing forward through the wet bushes and gra.s.s, and soon their rifles were crackling. But the Southern sharpshooters in the thickets were in stronger force, and their rapid and accurate fire drove back the Northern men. Then their artillery opened and swept the road, while the Northern batteries were making frantic efforts to get up through the deep, sticky mud.

But the trumpets were still calling. The Winchester regiment and others, eager for battle and victory, swept forward. d.i.c.k felt once more the fierce thrill of combat, and, waving his revolver high above his head, he shouted with the others as they rushed on. The stream of bullets from the ravine thickened, and the cannon were cras.h.i.+ng fast. But the Union ma.s.ses did not check their rush for an instant. Although many fell they charged into the ravine, driving out the enemy, and pursued him on the other side.

But the Southern cannon, manned by daring gunners, still held the field and, aided by the thick mud which held back charging feet, they repulsed every attack. The Winchester regiment was forced to cover, and then d.i.c.k heard the booming of cannon in another direction. He knew that Grant and Sherman were coming up there, and he expected they would rush at once into Jackson, but it was a long time before the distant thunder came any nearer.

Johnston, whose astuteness they feared, was proving himself worthy of their opinion. Knowing that his forces were far too small to defend Jackson, he had sent away the archives of the state and most of the army. Only a small force and seventeen cannon were left to fight and cover his retreat. But so bold and skillful were they that it was far beyond noon before Grant and Sherman found that practically nothing was in front of them.

But where d.i.c.k and his comrades rode the fighting was severe for a while. Then everything seemed to melt away before them. The fire of the Southern cannon ceased suddenly, and Colonel Winchester exclaimed that their works had been abandoned. They charged forward, seized the cannon, and now rode without resistance into the capital of the state, from which the President of the Confederacy hailed, though by birth a Kentuckian.

d.i.c.k and his comrades were among the first to enter the town, and not until then did they know that Johnston and all but a few hundreds of his army were gone.

”We've got the sh.e.l.l only,” d.i.c.k said.

”Still we've struck a blow by taking the capital of the state,” said Colonel Winchester.

d.i.c.k looked with much curiosity at the little city into which they were riding as conquerors. It was too small and new to be imposing. Yet there were some handsome houses, standing back on large lawns, and surrounded by foliage. The doors and shutters of all of them were closed tightly. d.i.c.k knew that their owners had gone away or were sitting, hearts full of bitterness, in their sealed houses.

The streets were deep in mud, and at the corners little knots of negroes gathered and looked at them curiously.

”They don't seem to welcome us as deliverers,” said Warner.

”They don't yet know what to think of us,” said d.i.c.k. ”There's the Capitol ahead of us, and some of our troops are going into it.”

”Others have gone into it already,” said Pennington. ”Look!”

They saw the flag of the Union break out above its dome, the beautiful stars and stripes, waving gently in the light breeze. A spontaneous cheer burst from the Union soldiers, and the bitter hearts in the sealed houses grew more bitter.

The army was now pouring in by every road and Colonel Winchester and his staff sought quarters. They were on the verge of exhaustion. All their clothing was wet and they were discolored with mud. They felt that they were bound to have rest and cleanliness.

The victorious troops were making their camp, wherever they could find dry ground, and soon they were building the fires for cooking. But many of the officers were a.s.signed to the residences, and Colonel Winchester and his staff were directed by the general to take quarters in a large colonial house, standing on a broad lawn, amid the finest magnolias and live oaks that d.i.c.k had ever seen.

Remembering an earlier experience during the s.h.i.+loh campaign Colonel Winchester and his young officers approached the house with some reluctance. In ordinary times it must have been brilliant with life. Two little fountains were playing on either side of the graveled walk that led to the front door. After the old fas.h.i.+on, three or four marble statues stood in the shrubbery. Everything indicated wealth. Probably the town house of a great planter, reflected d.i.c.k. In Mississippi a man sometimes owned as many as a thousand slaves, and lived like a prince.

The house offered them no welcome. Its doors and windows were closed, but d.i.c.k had seen thin smoke rising from a chimney in the rear. He expected that they would have to force the door, but at the first knock it was thrown open by a tall, thin woman of middle years. The look she gave them was full of bitter hatred-d.i.c.k sometimes thought that women could hate better than men-but her manner and bearing showed distinction. He, as well as his comrades, took her to be the lady of the house.

”We ask your pardon, madame, for this intrusion,” said Colonel Winchester, ”but we are compelled to occupy your house a while. We promise you as little trouble as possible.”

”We ask no consideration of any kind from men who have come to despoil our country and ruin its people,” she said icily.

Colonel Winchester flushed.

”But madame,” he protested, ”we do not come to destroy.”

”I do not care to argue with you about it,” she said in the same lofty tone, ”and also you need not address me as madame. I am Miss Woodville.”

d.i.c.k started.

”Does this house belong to Colonel John Woodville?” he asked.

”It does not,” she replied crisply, ”but it belongs to his elder brother, Charles Woodville, who is also a colonel, and who is my father. What do you know of Colonel John Woodville?”

”I met his son once,” replied d.i.c.k briefly.

She glanced at him sharply. d.i.c.k thought for a moment that he saw alarm in her look, but he concluded that it was only anger.