Читать книгу The Young Lieutenant; or, The Adventures of an Army Officer - Oliver 1822-1897 Optic - Страница 16

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The affair in the wheat-field had been conducted very quietly, and apparently had not attracted the attention of any of the rebels in the vicinity. During the brief parley, the thunder of the battle had sounded on the right and left of the parties. The enemy were in force in their works, and it was believed that there were squads of pickets in every place of concealment which the ground afforded.

Somers was very much surprised to find that he was not molested, and made all possible haste to carry out the programme with which he had been intrusted by Captain de Banyan. Followed by the balance of his men, he crept carefully towards the house till he had reached the end of the grain-field. He could see about a dozen rebels skulking behind the building, all of them so intent upon getting a shot at the Union soldiers, that they paid no attention to the events transpiring in the rear of them; probably deeming it impossible for an enemy to approach in that direction.

The lieutenant had but fifteen men left to execute his part of the scheme, and there seemed to be double that number of graybacks lurking in and about the house. Everything depended upon his effecting the requisite junction with the force of the captain. As his superior had but a short distance to march, it was probable that he was already in position to support him; and he decided to make the attack without permitting any delay to rob him of the chances of success.

“Now, double-quick, forward!” shouted Somers, as he rose from the ground, and led the way to a position where he could intercept the retreat of the rebels.

Agreeably to the instructions previously given, his men stretched out into an extended line, and commenced firing at will upon the luckless graybacks who were in sight. It did not take them long to find out that they were assailed by a fire in the rear.

“Surrender!” shouted Captain de Banyan, who at this moment appeared at the head of his men.

The rebels were not disposed to accept this polite invitation, but began to fall back from the house in good order. They discharged their pieces at the force in front, and then started at a run to effect their escape in the opposite direction. They forgot for the moment that they had been fired upon from the rear, or else thought that the fire had been directed by some of their own people at the Yankees who had so suddenly attacked in front.

“Surrender!” shouted Lieutenant Somers, as the retreating rebels approached his line.

They halted at this unexpected summons. The officer in command of them took a hasty survey of the situation, and then ordered his troops to cut their way through the thin line between them and the rebel field-works. The commander of the rebel pickets was a gallant fellow; and, drawing his sword, he rushed towards the spot where the lieutenant was stationed. Discharging his pistol with the left hand at Somers, he dashed forward like a festive horse.

Both parties had discharged their guns, and there was no time to reload them. Some of the rebels had bayonets, and some had not; and, with the fury of their brave leader, they attempted to break their way through the line. A sharp but very irregular conflict ensued, the rebels clubbing their muskets or grappling with the Union soldiers, each according to his individual taste. As they were two to one of the Federals, they would certainly have won the field if Captain de Banyan had not promptly come to the rescue.

The excited rebel officer manifested a most persistent desire to revenge his misfortunes upon Lieutenant Somers. After he had fired his pistol twice, and one of the balls had passed through his opponent’s cap, the latter, by a sudden dash, knocked the weapon from his hand with his sword. He then attempted to use his own sword, and, if Somers had not been a “master of fence,” would probably have run him through the body. Some hard blows were struck with these weapons, and the age of chivalry, when men fought hand to hand with trusty blades, seemed to be revived. But the sword of the rebel officer was not so trusty as it ought to have been. It was not a regulation sword; and, while its owner was flourishing it most valiantly, the blade flew away from the handle.

“Now, surrender!” said Somers, out of breath with the violence of his exertions, as he drew from his belt the pistol which, being so hard pressed, he had not been able to use before.

“Never, sir! I don’t surrender! I was sent here to fight, and not to surrender!” replied the officer, as proudly as though he had been in command of a beleaguered fortress, instead of a squad of two or three dozen men.

Somers had him at his mercy, and it seemed but little better than murder to shoot him in his defenseless state.

That was a bad mistake on his part; for the rebel officer at once proceeded to prove that he was no effeminate character, who depended upon a sword, pistol, or other weapon, to fight his battles with, but could, if occasion required, defend himself with his naked arm. He sprang upon Somers with the ferocity of a tiger. The latter fired; but the sudden movement of the former impaired his aim, and the ball whistled harmlessly over the head of the rebel. The desperate officer attempted to gain possession of the pistol; but Somers, now thoroughly aroused to a sense of his own danger, sprang at the throat of his antagonist, and, by the fierceness of the dash, bore him to the earth. His victim struggled to escape; and, being a stronger man than the other, would certainly have succeeded, if Somers had not picked up his pistol, which lay on the spot where they fell, and struck a blow with the butt of it on the temple of the rebel. This effectually quieted him; but the lieutenant’s little force were falling back before the furious assaults of the graybacks.

He had only time to get up before the rebels were upon him. At this interesting and critical moment, Captain de Banyan came up with his large force; and the enemy, finding themselves pressed in front and rear, gave up in despair. They were disarmed; and, those from the wheat-field being brought forward, the whole squad were marched in the direction of the Union line.

About one-half of Somers’s men were wounded, though some but slightly. These were sent back. The rebel officer lay insensible upon the ground; but Somers, satisfied that he was only stunned, desired to carry him off, not only as a trophy of his prowess, but because such a desperate fellow would be less dangerous in a prison-camp than in the lines of the rebels. He directed two of his men to bear the insensible form to the house, whither they were followed by the remainder of the force.

“Somers, my dear fellow, give me your hand,” said Captain de Banyan, as soon as the pressing business of the moment had been disposed of. “You have covered yourself with glory.”

“Pooh!” replied Somers, trying to look indifferent. “I have only done my duty, and obeyed my orders.”

“That’s very true; but, if you had been weak in the knees, you couldn’t very well have obeyed orders. Somers, you have done a big thing; and, in my judgment, you ought to be promoted.”

“Promoted for that?”

“In the battle of Magenta——”

“Oh, confound the battle of Magenta!” exclaimed Somers, interrupting him. “I will give you a handsome present if you will never say Magenta to me again.”

“Don’t be petulant, my dear boy! You have got a sweet temper naturally, and I hope you won’t spoil it.”

“I am afraid you will spoil it for me.”

“I was only saying pleasant things to you, and you fly off and roll yourself up in your dignity like a little hedgehog. By the way, Somers, don’t you suppose that Senator Guilford will hear of this affair?”

“I hope not.”

“Nor that little lady we left all used up with a broken arm?”

“I don’t care whether she does or not.”

“Or that other little lady who knits socks for soldiers that don’t run away in battle?”

Somers blushed like a maiden, and his experienced companion saw that he had touched the tender spot in his heart. Very likely the captain would have said something more on this interesting subject, if the conversation had not been interrupted by their arrival at the old house. Here they were met by a messenger from the colonel, ordering the detachment to hasten back; for orders had come for the brigade to retire to their old position.

The wounded and the prisoners were conducted safely back to the line in the woods, where our party were warmly congratulated upon their decided success. The brigade fell back, but were immediately ordered forward again, and held the advanced position which had been so gallantly won. It was not a very comfortable place; for the soldiers stood over shoes in the water. Late in the evening, our regiment was relieved by another, and ordered back to the breastworks in the rear. It had lost but few men, though torrents of loyal blood had flowed on that eventful day.

The action of that day was the initial conflict of the seven-days’ battles. General McClellan actually commenced his long-deferred operations against the city of Richmond. But the favorable moment had passed by, and even then the battalions of the rebels were gathering in readiness to be hurled upon our devoted army. While the regiment, whose fortunes have been more intimately connected with our story, was retiring from the pestiferous swamp, the commanding general received information of the approach of Stonewall Jackson. These proved to be sad tidings; for the anticipated triumphal march into the rebel capital was changed into a bloody but glorious retreat. The battles which were to be fought for a victorious advance were made to cover a disastrous defeat—disastrous to the campaign, though not to the army.

Fatigued, hungry and chilled by the night damps of the swamp, the regiment threaded its way through the intricacies of the woods towards the breastworks in the rear. It was a dark and gloomy hour, though the prestige of victory dwelt in the souls of the gallant soldiers. The officers were not familiar with the ground; and with difficulty they found their way back to the old line.

“Well, Somers, how do you feel?” asked Captain de Banyan when the regiment was dismissed.

“I’m all worn out. I haven’t got toughened to this kind of work yet,” replied Somers.

“Don’t give it up yet, my boy. We shall be in Richmond in less than a week, and then we will take rooms at the Spottswood House, and have a good time.”

“Do you believe we shall ever get into Richmond, captain?”

“Certainly I do. Everything is working to my entire satisfaction. You feel a little blue, my boy; but it is only because you are tired. You will feel better in the morning.”

“I am tired, but I am not blue. I am ready to do my duty, in victory or defeat. There has been an awful roar of guns all day, and no one can tell what the result of a battle will be.”

“An awful roar of guns! ’Pon my word, I like that,” laughed the captain. “Why, at Magenta——”

“Magenta again!” sneered Somers, who was heartily sick of that word.

“Yes, at Magenta! If you could only have heard the guns there! Why, there were seven thousand two hundred and forty-six pieces rattling away like mad on our side alone; and I believe the Russians——”

“Russians at Magenta again! I don’t believe you were at the battle of Magenta any more than I was!” exclaimed Somers desperately.

“Do you mean to tell me that I lie?” asked the captain gravely.

“Go on with your story,” said the lieutenant, fearing that he had said too much.

“Answer my question, if you please. You gave me the lie; did you not?”

“No; I didn’t use that word.”

“You said you didn’t believe I was at the battle of Magenta.”

“To be perfectly candid with you, I don’t believe it; but I am tired, and want my supper,” answered Somers, wishing to escape the issue which he had provoked.

“Fair play, my boy. You charged me with lying—indirectly—but not the less offensively on that account. Don’t dodge the question.”

“I haven’t dodged it. I gave you my candid opinion that you were not present at Magenta; and I don’t think there is an officer in the regiment who believes you were there.”

“Isn’t the word of an officer and a gentleman to be accepted?”

“Certainly, if he keeps within the bounds of reason; but when you talk about the Russians at Magenta, and over seven thousand cannons in a single army, we know that you are either ‘drawing the long-bow,’ or laboring under some strange delusion. Supper is ready.”

“We can eat and talk too.” And they did. “May I be allowed to ask, Lieutenant Somers, if you deem my statement inconsistent with reason?”

“To be sure I do. We have six guns to a battery; seventy-two hundred guns would make twelve hundred batteries. We have about one hundred and fifty men to a battery, which would make one hundred and eighty thousand men in the artillery arm alone; which is positively ridiculous. You said Russians——”

“Of course, that was a slip of the tongue. I meant Prussians,” added the captain, entirely overwhelmed by the lieutenant’s arithmetic, as well as by the laughter of Captain Benson and Lieutenant Munroe, who belonged to the mess.

“Worse yet,” said Somers. “They were Austrians. Now, captain, you are a brave man, and a splendid fellow; but I think it is a great pity you should tell such abominably great stories.”

“I accept the apology,” laughed Captain de Banyan. “We will call it square, and turn in; for I think that we shall have hot work to-morrow.”