Eben Holden Part 42

The words went quicidy from mouth to mouth. In a moment I could hear the murmur of thousands. I turned to see what they were looking at. Across the valley there was a long ridge, and back of it the main position of the Southern army. A grey host was pouring over it--thousand upon thousand--in close order, debouching into the valley.

A big force of our men lay between us and them. As I looked I could see a mighty stir in it. Every man of them seemed to be jumping up in the air. From afar came the sound of bugles calling 'retreat, the shouting of men, the rumbling of wagons. It grew louder. An officer rode by me hatless, and halted, shading his eyes. Then he rode back hurriedly.

'h.e.l.l has broke loose!' he shouted, as he pa.s.sed me.

The blue-coated host was rus.h.i.+ng towards us like a flood' artillery, cavalry, infantry, wagon train. There was a mighty uproar in the men behind me--a quick stir of feet. Terror spread over them like the travelling of fire. It shook their tongues. The crowd began caving at the edge and jamming at the centre. Then it spread like a swarm of bees shaken off a bush.

'Run! Run for your lives!' was a cry that rose to heaven.

'Halt, you cowards!' an officer shouted.

It was now past three o clock.

The raw army had been on its feet since midnight. For hours it had been fighting hunger, a pain in the legs, a quivering sickness at the stomach, a stubborn foe. It had turned the flank of Beauregard; victory was in sight. But lo! a new enemy was coming to the fray, innumerable, unwearied, eager for battle. The long slope bristled with his bayonets.

Our army looked and cursed and began letting go. The men near me were pausing on the brink of awful rout In a moment they were off, pell-mell, like a flock of sheep. The earth shook under them. Officers rode around them, cursing, gesticulating, threatening, but nothing could stop them.

Half a dozen trees had stood in the centre of the roaring ma.s.s. Now a few men clung to them--a remnant of the monster that had torn away. But the greater host was now coming. The thunder of its many feet was near me; a cloud of dust hung over it. A squadron of cavalry came rus.h.i.+ng by and broke into the fleeing ma.s.s. Heavy horses, cut free from artillery, came galloping after them, straps flying over foamy flanks. Two riders clung to the back of each, las.h.i.+ng with whip and rein. The nick of wagons came after them, wheels rattling, horses running, voices shrilling in a wild hoot of terror. It makes me tremble even now, as I think of it, though it is m.u.f.fled under the cover of nearly forty years!

I saw they would go over me. Reeling as if drunk, I ran to save myself.

Zigzagging over the field I came upon a grey-bearded soldier lying in the gra.s.s and fell headlong. I struggled madly, but could not rise to my feet. I lay, my face upon the ground, weeping like a woman. Save I be lost in h.e.l.l, I shall never know again the bitter pang of that moment.

I thought of my country. I saw its splendid capital in ruins; its people surrendered to G.o.d's enemies.

The rout of wagons had gone by I could now hear the heavy tramp of thousands pa.s.sing me, the shrill voices of terror. I worked to a sitting posture somehow--the effort nearly smothered me. A ma.s.s of cavalry was bearing down upon me. They were coming so thick I saw they would trample me into jelly. In a flash I thought of what Uncle Eb had told me once.

I took my hat and covered my face quiddy, and then uncovered it as they came near. They sheared away as I felt the foam of their nostrils. I had split them as a rock may split the torrent. The last of them went over me--their tails whipping my face. I shall not soon forget the look of their bellies or the smell of their wet flanks. They had no sooner pa.s.sed than I fell back and rolled half over like a log. I could feel a warm flow of blood trickling down my left arm. A sh.e.l.l, shot at the retreating army, pa.s.sed high above me, whining as it flew. Then my mind went free of its trouble. The rain brought me to as it came pelting down upon the side of my face. I wondered what it might be, for I knew not where I had come. I lifted my head and looked to see a new dawn--possibly the city of G.o.d itself. It was dark--so dark I felt as if I had no eyes. Away in the distance I could hear the beating of a drum.

It rang in a great silence--I have never known the like of it. I could hear the fall and trickle of the rain, but it seemed only to deepen the silence. I felt the wet gra.s.s under my face and hands. Then I knew it was night and the battlefield where I had fallen. I was alive and might see another day--thank G.o.d! I felt something move under my feet I heard a whisper at my shoulder.

'Thought you were dead long ago,' it said.

'No, no,' I answered, 'I'm alive--I know I'm alive--this is the battlefield.

"Fraid I ain't goin' t' live,' he said. 'Got a terrible wound. Wish it was morning.'

'Dark long?' I asked.

'For hours,' he answered. 'Dunno how many.'

He began to groan and utter short prayers.

'O, my soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning,' I heard him cry in a loud, despairing voice.

Then there was a bit of silence, in which I could hear him whispering of his home and people.

Presently he began to sing:

'Guide me, O thou great Jehovah!

Pilgrim through this barren land I am weak but thou art mighty'

His voice broke and trembled and sank into silence.

I had business of my own to look after--perhaps I had no time to lose--and I went about it calmly. I had no strength to move and began to feel the nearing of my time. The rain was falling faster. It chilled me to the marrow as I felt it trickling over my back. I called to the man who lay beside me--again and again I called to him--but got no answer.

Then I knew that he was dead and I alone. Long after that in the far distance I heard a voice calling. It rang like a trumpet in the still air. It grew plainer as I listened. My own name! William Brower? It was certainly calling to me, and I answered with a feeble cry. In a moment I could hear the tramp of someone coming. He was sitting beside me presently, whoever it might be. I could not see him for the dark. His tongue went clucking as if he pitied me.

'Who are you?' I remember asking, but got no answer.

At first I was glad, then I began to feel a mighty horror of him.

In a moment he had picked me up and was making off. The jolt of his step seemed to be breaking my arms at the shoulder. As I groaned he ran. I could see nothing in the darkness, but he went ahead, never stopping, save for a moment, now and then, to rest I wondered where he was taking me and what it all meant. I called again, 'Who are you?' but he seemed not to hear me. 'My G.o.d!' I whispered to myself, 'this is no man--this is Death severing the soul from the body. The voice was that of the good G.o.d.' Then I heard a man hailing near by.

'Help, Help!' I shouted faintly.

'Where are you?' came the answer, now further away. 'Can't see you.'

My mysterious bearer was now running. My heels were dragging upon the ground; my hands were brus.h.i.+ng the gra.s.s tops. I groaned with pain.

'Halt! Who comes there?' a picket called. Then I could hear voices.

'Did you hear that noise?' said one. 'Somebody pa.s.sed me. So dark can't see my hand before me.

'Darker than h.e.l.l!' said another voice.

It must be a giant, I thought, who can pick me up and carry me as if I were no bigger than a house cat. That was what I was thinking when I swooned.

From then till I came to myself in the little church at Centreville I remember nothing. Groaning men lay all about me; others stood between them with lanterns. A woman was bending over me. I felt the gentle touch of her hand upon my face and heard her speak to me so tenderly I cannot think of it, even now, without thanking G.o.d for good women. I clung to her hand, clung with the energy of one drowning, while I suffered the merciful torture of the probe, the knife and the needle. And when it was all over and the lantern lights grew pale in the dawn I fell asleep.

But enough of blood and horror. War is no holiday, my merry people, who know not the mighty blessing of peace. Counting the cost, let us have war, if necessary, but peace, peace if possible.

Chapter 40

But now I have better things to write of things that have some relish of good in them. I was very weak and low from loss of blood for days, and, suddenly, the tide turned. I had won recognition for distinguished gallantry they told me--that day they took me to Was.h.i.+ngton. I lay three weeks there in the hospital. As soon as they heard of my misfortune at home Uncle Eb wrote he was coming to see me. I stopped him by a telegram, a.s.suring him that I was nearly well and would be home shortly.

My term of enlistment had expired when they let me out a fine day in mid August. I was going home for a visit as sound as any man but, in the horse talk of Faraway, I had a little 'blemish'on the left shoulder.

Uncle Eb was to meet me at the jersey City depot. Before going I, with others who had been complimented for bravery, went to see the president.

There were some twenty of us summoned to meet him that day. It was warm and the great Lincoln sat in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves at a desk in the middle of his big office. He wore a pair of brown carpet slippers, the rolling collar and black stock now made so familiar in print. His hair was tumbled. He was writing hurriedly when we came in. He laid his pen away and turned to us without speaking. There was a careworn look upon his solemn face.

'Mr President,' said the general, who had come with us, 'here are some of the brave men of our army, whom you wished to see.

He came and shook hands with each and thanked us in the name of the republic, for the example of courage and patriotism we and many others had given to the army. He had a lean, tall, ungraceful figure and he spoke his mind without any frill or flourish. He said only a few words of good plain talk and was done with us.

'Which is Brower?' he enquired presently.

I came forward more scared than ever I had been before.

'My son,' he said, taking my hand in his, 'why didn't you run?'

'Didn't dare,' I answered. 'I knew it was more dangerous to run away than to go forward.'

'Reminds me of a story,' said he smiling. 'Years ago there was a bully in Sangamon County, Illinois, that had the reputation of running faster and fighting harder than any man there. Everybody thought he was a terrible fighter. He'd always get a man on the run; then he'd ketch up and give him a licking. One day he tadded a lame man. The lame man licked him in a minute.

'"Why didn't ye run?" somebody asked the victor.