Kitabı oku: «General Nelson's Scout», sayfa 15
"General," replied Grant, without a quiver, "rally what broken regiments and stragglers you can behind the guns, close up as much as possible on McClernand, and hold your position to the last man."
Now there came roaring past a confused mass of white-faced officers and soldiers commingled, a human torrent stricken with deadly fear.
"All is lost! All is lost!" they cry. "Prentiss and Wallace have surrendered."
Grant's face was seen to twitch. "Oh, for Lew Wallace, for Nelson, or for night," he groaned.
From across the river there came to his ears the sound of cheering. Grant looked, and there among the trees he saw the banners of Nelson's regiments waving.
Hope came into his eyes; his face lighted up.
"Go, go!" he cried to his aids, "go to Sherman, to McClernand, to Hurlbut. Tell them to hold! hold! hold! Help is near."
But if Grant had known it the danger had already passed; for Beauregard had given orders for his army to cease fighting. Night was coming on, the capture of W. H. L. Wallace's and Prentiss' divisions had disarranged his lines, and thinking that he was sure of his prey in the morning, he had given orders to withdraw.
One brigade of the Confederate army did not receive this order, and when Nelson's advance crossed the river this brigade was charging the line of cannon on the left. These cannon were entirely unprotected by infantry, and Grant himself placed Nelson's men in line as they arrived.
The Confederate brigade was advancing with triumphant shouts, when they were met with a withering volley and sent reeling back. Then, to his surprise, the commander found that of all of the Confederate army his brigade was the only one continuing the fight, and he hastily fell back. The battle for the day was over.
Alone and practically unaided the brave soldiers of the Army of the Tennessee had fought the battle of Sunday and saved themselves from capture. To them belongs the glory.
The battle of Monday was mainly the fight of the Army of the Ohio. Without its aid Grant could never have been able to turn defeat into victory, and send the Confederate hosts in headlong flight back to Corinth. There would have been no advance Monday morning if Buell had not been on the field. The whole energy of Grant would have been devoted to the saving of what remained of his army.
The terrible conflict of the day had left its impress on the Army of the Tennessee. There was but a remnant in line capable of battle when night came.
The generals of divisions were so disheartened that the coming of Buell failed to restore their spirits. Even the lion-hearted Sherman wavered and was downcast. Grant found him sitting in the darkness beside a tree, his head buried in his hands, and his heart full of fears. He had fought as generals seldom fight. Three horses had been shot under him, and he had received two wounds. When Grant told him there was to be an advance in the morning, he sadly shook his head and said: "No use, General, no use; the fight is all out of the men. I do not possibly see how we can assume the offensive."
"Look here, Sherman," replied Grant. "Remember how it was at Donelson. If we assume the offensive in the morning a glorious victory awaits us. Lew Wallace is here; Buell will have at least 20,000 fresh troops on the field. The Confederates, like ourselves, are exhausted and demoralized. If we become the aggressors, success is sure."
Sherman became convinced; his fears were gone, his hopes revived.
Why was it that the fiery and impetuous Nelson was so late in getting on the field? He was only nine miles away early in the morning, and had received orders from Grant to move his division opposite Pittsburg Landing. If there had been any roads there would have been no excuse for his delay. But a heavily timbered, swampy bottom lay between him and his destination. The river had been very high, overflowing the whole bottom, and when the water had receded it left a waste of mud, from which all vestige of a road had disappeared. To plunge into that waste of mud and wilderness without a guide would have been madness. A guide, though Grant said one could easily be found, could not be secured. So Nelson sent a staff officer to see if he could find a practicable route. This officer did not return until noon. All of this time the division lay listening to the booming of cannon and eager to be led to the fray. As for Nelson, he fretted and fumed, stormed and swore at the delay.
"The expected has come," he growled, "and here I am doing no more good than if I were a hundred miles away. Might have been on the field, too, if Grant had not kept saying, 'No use hurrying!' I knew they were a set of fools to think that Johnston would sit down at Corinth and suck his thumbs."
At length a guide was found who said he could pilot the division through the bottom, but that the route was passable only for horsemen and infantry; the artillery would have to be left behind. The division started at one o'clock, the men keeping step to the music of the thunder of cannon.
"This beats Donelson," remarked Fred, as the roar of artillery never ceased.
"My boy," replied Nelson, "the greatest battle ever fought on this continent is now being waged. God grant that we may get there in time. It was rumored at Savannah that the Confederates were sweeping everything before them."
"Your division will surely give a good account of itself," said Fred, looking back, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "See how eager the men are, and how well they keep closed up, notwithstanding the mud. Half of them are mourning because they think the battle will be over before they get there."
"No danger of that," replied Nelson. "The question is, shall we be in time."
Soon the roll of musketry began to be heard; then the cheers of the combatants. A quiver of excitement ran along the lines, and every soldier grasped his musket with a firmer hold. As they approached the river cannon balls began to crash through the treetops above them; then was heard the peculiar whir of the minie ball when it is nearly spent – so close was the fighting to the river.
To Fred's surprise, he saw numerous skulkers dodging through the timber on the same side of the river as himself. In some manner they had managed to get across the river; not only this, but the boats which came to ferry Nelson's troops over were more or less crowded with these skulkers, who would have died rather than be driven off. In the river were seen men on logs making their way across, and some of these men wore shoulder straps.
So incensed were Nelson's soldiers at the sight of such cowardice that they begged for permission to shoot them.
As they landed, Fred stood aghast at the sight before him. Cowering beneath the high bank were thousands upon thousands of trembling wretches. It was a dense mass of shivering, weeping, wailing, swearing, praying humanity, each one lost to shame, lost to honor, lost to everything but that dreadful fear which chained him soul and body.
As Nelson's advance brigade forced its way through the panic-stricken throng, they were greeted with, "You are all going to your death! You are all going to your death!"
"Back! back!" roared Nelson, purple with rage. "Don't touch my men; you contaminate them; don't speak to them, you cowards, miscreants, you should be swept from the face of the earth."
And in the fury of his wrath, Nelson begged for the privilege of turning cannon on them.
With firm, unwavering steps, and well closed up, the division pressed their way up the bank, and there were soldiers in the ranks who looked with contempt on the shivering wretches below the hill, who themselves, the next day, fled in terror from the awful destruction going on around them. So little do we know ourselves and what we will do when the supreme moment comes.
Afterward the great majority of the soldiers who cowered under the bank at Shiloh covered themselves with glory, and hundreds of them laid down their lives for their country.
Fred always remembered that night on the battlefield. From the Landing came the groans and shrieks of the wounded, tortured under the knives of the surgeons. The night was as dark and cloudy as the day had been bright and clear. About eleven o'clock a torrent of rain fell, drenching the living, and cooling the fevered brows of the wounded. Fred sat against a tree, holding the bridle of his horse in his hand. If by chance he fell asleep, he would be awakened by the great cannon of the gunboats, which threw shells far inland every fifteen minutes.
At the first dawn of day Nelson's division advanced, and the battle began. Fred acted as aid to Nelson, and as the general watched him as he rode amid the storm of bullets unmoved he would say to those around him: "Just see that boy; there is the making of a hero."
About eleven o'clock one of Nelson's brigades made a most gallant charge. Wheeling to the right, the brigade swept the Confederate line for more than half a mile. Before them the enemy fled, a panic-stricken mob. A battery was run over as though the guns were blocks of wood, instead of iron-throated monsters vomiting forth fire and death. In the thickest of the fight, Fred noticed Robert Marsden, the betrothed of Mabel Vaughn, cheering on his men.
"Ah!" thought Fred, "he is worthy of Mabel. May his life be spared to make her happy."
On, on swept the brigade; a second battery was reached, and over one of the guns he saw Marsden fighting like a tiger. Then the smoke of battle hid him from view.
On the left Fred saw a mere boy spring from out an Indiana regiment, shoot down a Confederate color-bearer, snatch the colors from his dying grasp, wave them defiantly in the face of the enemy, and then coolly walk back to his place in the ranks.
General Nelson saw the act, and turning to Fred, said: "I want you to hunt that boy up, and bring him to me after the battle."
But the brigade paid dearly for its daring charge. A strong line, lying down, let the frightened fugitives pass over them; then they arose and poured a deadly volley into the very faces of the charging column. Cannon in front and on the flank tore great gaps through the line. The brigade halted, wavered, and then fled wildly back, leaving a third of its number dead and wounded.
By three o'clock the battle was over; the Confederates were in full retreat, and the bloody field of Shiloh won.
As the firing died away, Fred sat on his horse and shudderingly surveyed the field. The muddy ground was trampled as by the feet of giants. The forest was shattered as by ten thousand thunderbolts, while whole thickets had been leveled, as though a huge jagged scythe had swept over them.
By tree and log, in every thicket, on every hillside, dotting every field, lay the dead and wounded. Many of the dead were crushed out of all semblance of humanity, trampled beneath the hoof of the warhorse or ground beneath the ponderous wheels of the artillery. Over 20,000 men lay dead and wounded, Confederate and Federal commingled.
But Grant's army was saved. The fondest hopes of the Confederates had been blasted; instead of marching triumphantly forward to Nashville, as they hoped, they retreated sullenly back to Corinth.
But the battle brought the war to the hearts of the people as it had never been brought before. From the stricken homes of the North and the South there arose a great wail of agony – a weeping for those who would not return.
CHAPTER XX.
"MY SON! MY SON!"
On Monday morning, just as the first scattering shots of Nelson's skirmishers were heard, Calhoun Pennington presented himself before the Hon. G. M. Johnson, Provisional Governor of Kentucky, on whose staff he was. When the Confederates retreated from Bowling Green Governor Johnson accompanied the Kentucky brigade south, and although not a soldier he had bravely fought throughout the entire battle of the day before.
The Governor and General Beauregard were engaged in earnest conversation when Calhoun came up, and both uttered an exclamation of surprise at his forlorn appearance. He was pale and haggard, his eyes were sunken and his garments were dripping with water, for he had just swum the Tennessee river.
"Great heavens! is it you, Lieutenant?" cried Johnson, and he caught Calhoun's hand and wrung it until he winced with pain.
"It is what is left of me," answered Calhoun, with a faint smile.
"You don't know," continued Johnson, "how glad I am to see you. I had given you up for lost, and bitterly blamed myself for allowing you to go on your dangerous undertaking. Where have you been? What has kept you so long?"
"First," answered Calhoun, "I must speak to General Beauregard," and, saluting, he said: "General, I bring you heavy news. Buell has joined Grant."
Beauregard started and turned pale. "I feared it, I feared it, when the Federals opened the battle this morning. I was just telling the Governor as you came up that Grant would never have assumed the offensive if he had not been reinforced."
"Oh!" said Calhoun, "if I had only been a couple of days earlier; if you had only attacked a couple of days sooner!"
"That was the calculation," answered Beauregard, "but the dreadful roads retarded us. Then we did not expect Buell for two or three days yet. Our scouts brought us information that he was to halt at least a couple of days at Waynesborough."
"So he was," answered Calhoun, bitterly; "and he would have done so if it had not been for that renegade Kentuckian, General Nelson. He it was who rushed through, and made it possible for Buell to be on the field to-day."
"Do you know how many men Buell has?" anxiously inquired Beauregard.
"Three strong divisions; I should say full 20,000."
Beauregard groaned. All visions of victory were dissolved. "I thank you, Lieutenant, for your information, although it is the knell of defeat. Yesterday we fought for victory; to-day I shall have to fight to save my army." So saying he mounted his horse and galloped rapidly to the scene of action.
"This is bad news that you bring, Lieutenant," said the Governor, after Beauregard had gone. "But tell me about yourself; you must have been in trouble."
"Yes, Governor, serious trouble. At first I was very successful, and found out that Nelson expected to be in Savannah by April 5th. I was just starting back with this important information, information which meant victory for our cause, when I was suddenly set upon and captured before I had time to raise a hand. I was accused of being a spy, but there was no proof against me, the only person who could have convicted me being a cousin, who refused to betray me; but he managed to hold me until my knowledge could do no good."
"It looks as though the hand of God were against us," solemnly responded Johnson. "If you had not been captured, we would surely have attacked a day or two earlier, and a glorious victory would have awaited us. But now – " the Governor paused, choked back something like a sob, and then continued: "There is no use of vain regrets. See, the battle is on, and I must once more take my place in the ranks and do my duty."
"Must do what, Governor?" asked Calhoun in surprise.
"Must fight in the ranks as a private soldier, as I did yesterday," replied the Governor calmly.
"I shall go with you," replied Calhoun.
So side by side the Governor and his aid fought as private soldiers, and did yeoman service. Just before the battle closed, in repelling the last furious charge of the Federals, Governor Johnson gave a sharp cry, staggered, and would have fallen if he had not been caught in the arms of Calhoun. Loving hands carried him back, but the brave spirit had fled forever. Thus died the most distinguished private soldier that fell on the field of Shiloh.
One of the first acts of Fred after the battle was over was to ride in search of Robert Marsden. He found him lying in a heap of slain at the place where the battery had been charged. A bullet had pierced the center of the miniature flag, and it was wet with his heart's blood. Reverently Fred removed the flag, closed the sightless eyes, and gave orders that the body, as soon as possible, be sent to Louisville.
As he was returning from this sad duty, he thought of the errand given him by General Nelson to hunt up the boy whom they saw capture the colors. Riding up to the regiment, he made inquiry, and to his surprise and delight found that the hero was Hugh Raymond.
"Hello, Hugh! don't you remember me?" asked Fred, when the boy presented himself.
"Yes, sir," replied Hugh, respectfully. "You are the young officer who got me released when General Nelson tied me to the cannon. I have never ceased to feel grateful towards you."
"Well, Hugh, General Nelson wants to see you again."
Hugh opened his eyes in wonder. "Don't want to tie me up again, does he?" he asked, with a shiver.
"I expect so. He saw you capture that flag and he is awful mad; so come along."
"General," said Fred, when he had found Nelson, "here is the brave boy who captured the colors."
"That was a gallant act, my boy," kindly remarked Nelson, "and you deserve the thanks of your general."
"It was nothing, General," replied Hugh. "It just made me mad to have them shake their dirty rag in my face, and I resolved to have it."
This answer pleased Nelson immensely. He noticed Hugh more closely, and then suddenly asked: "Have I not seen you somewhere before, my boy?"
"Yes, General," replied Hugh, trembling.
"Where?"
"On the march here, when you tied me by the wrists to a cannon for straggling."
Nelson was slightly taken back by the answer; then an amused look came into his face, and he said, in a bantering tone: "Liked it, didn't you?"
"Liked it! liked it!" exclaimed Hugh, with flaming eyes. "I was just mad enough at you to kill you."
"There is the boy for me," said Nelson, turning to his staff. "He not only captures flags, but he tells his general to his face what he thinks of him." Then addressing Hugh, he continued: "I want a good orderly, and I will detail you for the position."
So Hugh Raymond became an orderly to General Nelson, and learned to love him as much as he once hated him.
Now occurred one of those strange psychological impressions which science has never yet explained. A feeling came to Fred that he must ride over the battlefield. It was as if some unseen hand was pulling him, some power exerted that he could not resist. He mounted his horse and rode away, the course he took leading him to the place where Trabue's Kentucky brigade made its last desperate stand.
Suddenly the prostrate figure of a Confederate officer, apparently dead, attracted Fred's attention. As he looked a great fear clutched at his heart, causing it to stand still. Springing from his horse, he bent over the death-like form; then with a cry of anguish sank on his knees beside it. He had looked into the face of his father.
"Oh! he is dead, he is dead!" he moaned.
Bending down, he placed his ear over his father's heart; a faint fluttering could be heard.
"It beats! he lives! he lives!" he cried, joyously.
With eager eyes he searched for the wound. A ball had shattered Colonel Shackelford's leg, and he was bleeding to death.
For Fred to cut away the clothing from around the wound, and then to take a handkerchief and tightly twist it around the limb above the wound was the work of a moment. The flow of blood was stopped. Tenderly was Colonel Shackelford carried back, his weeping son walking by his side. The surgeon carefully examined the wounded limb, and then brusquely said: "It will have to come off."
"Oh! no, no, not that!" cried Fred, piteously.
"It's that, or his life," shortly answered the surgeon.
"Do it then," hoarsely replied Fred, as he turned away unable to bear the cruel sight.
When Colonel Shackelford came to himself, he was lying in a state-room in a steamboat, and was rapidly gliding down the Tennessee. Fred was sitting by his side, watching every movement, for his father had been hovering between life and death.
"Where am I? What has happened?" Colonel Shackelford faintly asked.
"Dear father," whispered Fred, "you have been very sick. Don't talk," and he gave him a soothing potion.
The colonel took it without a word, and sank into a quiet slumber. The surgeon came in, and looking at him, said: "It is all right, captain; he has passed the worst, and careful nursing will bring him around."
When the surgeon was gone Fred fell on his knees and poured out his soul in gratitude that his father was to live.
When Colonel Shackelford became strong enough to hear the story, Fred told him all; how he found him on the battlefield nearly dead from the loss of blood; how he bound up his wound and saved his life.
"And now, father," he said, "I am taking you home – home where we can be happy once more."
The wounded man closed his eyes and did not speak. Fred sank on his knees beside him.
"Father," he moaned, "father, can you not forgive? Can you not take me to your heart and love me once more?"
The father trembled; then stretching forth his feeble arm, he gently placed his hand on the head of his boy and murmured, "My son! my son!" and they mingled their glad tears together. In the old Kentucky home Fred nursed his father back to health and strength.
But another sad duty remained for Fred to perform. As soon as he felt that he could safely leave his father, he went to Louisville and placed in Mabel Vaughn's hands the little flag, torn by the cruel bullet and crimsoned with the heart's blood of her lover. The color fled from her face, she tottered, and Fred thought she was going to faint, but she recovered herself quickly, and leading him to a seat said gently: "Now tell me all about it."
Fred told her of the dreadful charge; how Marsden, in the very front, among the bravest of the brave, had found a soldier's death; and when he had finished the girl raised her streaming eyes to heaven and thanked God that he had given her such a lover.
Then standing before Fred, her beautiful face rendered still more beautiful by her sorrow, she said:
"Robert is gone, but I still have a work to do. Hereafter I shall do what I can to alleviate the sufferings of those who uphold the country's flag. In memory of this," and she pressed the little blood-stained flag to her lips, "I devote my life to this sacred object."
And binding up her broken heart, she went forth on her mission of love. She cooled the fevered brow, she bound up the broken limb, she whispered words of consolation into the ear of the dying, and wiped the death damp from the marble brow. Her very presence was a benediction, and those whose minds wandered would whisper as she passed that they had seen an angel.
Calhoun Pennington bitterly mourned the death of his chief. He afterward joined his fortune with John H. Morgan, and became one of that famous raider's most daring and trusted officers.
For some weeks Fred remained at home, happy in the company and love of his father. But their peace was rudely disturbed by the raids of Morgan, and then by the invasion of Kentucky by the Confederate armies.
After the untimely death of Nelson, Fred became attached to the staff of General George H. Thomas, and greatly distinguished himself in the numerous campaigns participated in by that famous general. But he never performed more valiant service than when he was known as "General Nelson's Scout."
