The Guns of Bull Run: A Story of the Civil War's Eve

Colonel Talbot was sitting at a small table in a tent, the sides of which had been raised all around, leaving only a canvas roof. Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire sat opposite him across the table, and they were studying intently a small map of a region that was soon to be sown deep with history. They looked up when Harry came with his two friends, and gave him the welcome that he knew he would always receive from them.

"I've had a letter from your father," said Colonel Leonidas Talbot, "and I've been expecting you. You are to be a lieutenant on my staff, and the quartermaster will sell you a new uniform as glossy and fine as those of which St. Clair and Langdon are so proud."

He asked him a few more questions about Kentucky and his journey over the mountains, and then, telling St. Clair and Langdon to take care of him, he and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire went back to the study of their map. Harry noted that both were tanned deeply and that their faces were very serious.

"Come along, Harry," said Langdon. "Let the colonel and the major bear all the troubles. For us everything is for the best. We've got you on our hands and we're going to treat you right. See that deep pool in the brook, where the big oak throws its shade over the water? It's partly natural and it's partly dammed, but it's our swimming hole. You are covered with dust and dirt. Pull off your clothes and jump in there. We'll protect you from ribald attention. There are other swimming holes along here, but this swimming hole belongs to the Invincibles, and we always make good our rights."

Harry was more than willing. In three minutes he jumped into the deep, cool water, swimming, diving, and shaking himself like a big dog. He had enjoyed no such luxury in many days, and he felt as if he were being re-created. Langdon and St. Clair sat on the bank and gave him instructions.

"Now jump out," Langdon said at the end of five minutes. "You needn't think because you've just come and are in a way a guest, that you can keep this swimming hole all to yourself. A lot more of the Invincibles need bathing and here come some for their chance."

Harry came out reluctantly, and in a few minutes they were on the way to the quartermaster, where the needed uniform, one that appealed gloriously to his eye, was bought. St. Clair was quiet, but Langdon talked enough for all three.

"The Yankee vanguard is only a few miles away," he said. "You don't have to go far before you see their tents, though I ought to say that each side has another army westward in the mountains. There's been a lot of fighting already, though not much of it here. The first shots on Virginia soil were fired on our front the day General Beauregard arrived to take command of our forces."

"How about those troops in the hills?" asked Harry.

"They've been up and doing. A young Yankee general named McClellan has shown a lot of activity. He has beat us in some skirmishes and he has organized troops as far west as the Ohio. Then he and his generals met our general, Garnett, at Rich Mountain. It was the biggest affair of the war so far, and Garnett was killed. Then a curious fellow of ours named Jackson, and Stuart, a cavalry officer, lost a little battle at a place called Falling Waters."

"Has the luck been against us all along the line?"

"Not at all! A cock-eyed Massachusetts politician, one Ben Butler, a fellow of energy though, broke into the Yorktown country, but Magruder thrashed him at Big Bethel. All those things, though, Harry, are just whiffs of rain before the big storm. We're threatening Washington here with our main army, and here is where they will have to meet us. Lincoln has put General Scott, a Virginian, too, in command of the Northern armies, but as he's so old, somebody else will be the real commander."

Harry felt himself a genuine soldier in his new uniform, and he soon learned his new duties, which, for the present, would not be many. The two armies, although practically face to face, refused to move. On either side the officers of the old regular force were seeking to beat the raw recruits into shape, and the rival commanders also waited, each for the other to make the first movement.

Harry and St. Clair were sent that night far toward the front with a small detachment to patrol some hill country. They marched in the moonlight, keeping among the trees, and listening for any sounds that might be hostile.

"It's not likely though that we'll be molested," said St. Clair. "The men on both sides don't yet realize fully that they are here to shoot at one another. This is our place, along a little brook, another tributary of the Manassas."

They stopped in a grove and disposed the men, twenty in number, along a line of several hundred yards, with instructions not to fire unless they knew positively what they were shooting at. Harry and St. Clair remained near the middle of the line, at the edge of the brook, where they sat down on the bank. The country was open in front of them, and Harry saw a distant light.

"What's that?" he asked.

"The campfire of a Yankee outpost. I told you they were very near."

"And that, I suppose, is one of their bugles."

A faint but musical note was brought to them by the light wind blowing in their faces.

"That's what it is. It may be the signal of some movement, but they can't attempt anything serious without showing themselves. Our sentinels are posted along here for miles."

The sound of the bugle continued faint and far away. It had a certain weird effect in the night and the loneliness. Harry wished to know who they were at that far campfire. His own cousin, Dick Mason, might be there.

"Although we're arrayed for war," said St. Clair, "the sentinels are often friendly. They even exchange plugs of tobacco and news. The officers have not been able to stop it wholly. Our sentinels tell theirs that we'll be in Washington in a month, and theirs tell ours that they've already engaged rooms in the Richmond hotels for July."

"When two prophets disagree both can't be right," said Harry. "How far away would you say that light is, Arthur?"

"About a mile and a half. Let's scout a little in that direction. There are no commands against it. Enterprise is encouraged."

"Just what I'd like," said Harry, who was eager for action.

Leaving their own men under the command of a reliable sergeant named Carrick, the two youths crossed the brook and advanced over a fairly level stretch of country toward the fire. Small clusters of trees were scattered here and there, and beyond them was a field of young corn. The two paused in one of the little groves about a hundred yards from their own outposts and looked back. They saw only the dark line of the trees, and behind them, wavering lights which they knew were the campfires of their own army. But the lights at the distance were very small, mere pin points.

"They look more like lanterns carried by 'coon and 'possum hunters than the campfires of an army," said Harry.

"Yes, you'd hardly think they mark the presence of twenty or thirty thousand men," said St. Clair. "Here we are at the cornfield. The plants are not high, but they throw enough shadow to hide us."

They climbed a rail fence, and advanced down the corn rows. The moon was good and there was a plentiful supply of stars, enabling them to see some distance. To their right on a hill was a white Colonial house, with all its windows dark.

"That house would be in a bad place if a battle comes off here, as seems likely," said St. Clair.

"And those who own it are wise in having gone away," said Harry.

"I'm not so sure that they've gone. People hate to give up their homes even in the face of death. Around here they generally stay and put out the lights at dark."

"Well, here we are at the end of the cornfield, and the light is not more than four or five hundred yards away. I think I can see the shadows of human figures against the flames. Come, let's climb the fence and go down through this skirt of bushes."

The suggestion appealed to the daring and curiosity of both, and in a few minutes they were within two hundred yards of the Northern camp. But they lay very close in the undergrowth. They saw a big fire and Harry judged that four or five hundred men were scattered about. Many were asleep on the grass, but others sat up talking. The appearance of all was so extraordinary that Harry gazed in astonishment.

It was not the faces or forms of the men, but their dress that was so peculiar. They were arrayed in huge blouses and vast baggy trousers of a blazing red, fastened at the knee and revealing stockings of a brilliant hue below. Little tasselled caps were perched on the sides of their heads. Harry remembering his geography and the descriptions of nations would have taken them for a gathering of Turkish women, if their masculine faces had been hidden.

"What under the moon are those?" he whispered. "They do look curious," replied St. Clair. "They call them Zouaves, and I think they're from New York. It's a copy of a French military costume which, unless I'm mistaken, France uses in Algeria."

"They'd certainly make a magnificent target on the battlefield. A Kentucky or Tennessee rifleman who'd miss such a target would die of shame."

"Maybe. But listen, they're singing! What do you think of that for a military tune?"

Harry heard for the first time in his life an extraordinary, choppy air, a rapid beat that rose and fell abruptly, sending a powerful thrill through his heart as he lay there in the bushes. The words were nothing, almost without meaning, but the tune itself was full of compelling power. It set the feet marching toward triumphant battle.

"In Dixie's land I'll take my stand,Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom,Look away! Look away!Down South in Dixie!"

Three or four hundred voices took up the famous battle song, as thrilling and martial as the Marseillaise, then fresh and unhackneyed, and they sang it with enthusiasm and fire, officers joining with the men. It was a singular fact that Harry should first hear Northern troops singing the song which was destined to become the great battle tune of the South.

"What is it?" whispered Harry.

"It's called Dixie. They say it was written by a man in New York for a negro minstrel show. I suppose they sing it in anticipation, meaning that they will soon be in the heart of Dixie, which is the South, our South."

"I don't think those baggy red legs will ever march far into our South," whispered Harry defiantly.

"It is to be seen. Between you and me, Harry, I'm convinced there is no triumphant progress ahead for either North or South. Ah, another force is coming and it's cavalry! Don't you hear the hoof-beats, Harry?"

Harry heard them distinctly and he and his comrade lay more closely than ever in the bushes, because the horsemen, a numerous body, as the heavy tread indicated, were passing very near. The two lads presently saw them riding four abreast toward the campfire, and Harry surmised that they had been scouting in strong force toward the Southern front. They were large men, deep with tan and riding easily. Harry judged their number at two hundred, and the tail of the company would pass alarmingly near the bushes in which his comrade and he lay.

"Don't you think we'd better creep back?" he whispered to St. Clair. "Some of them taking a short cut may ride right upon us."

"Yes, it's time to make ourselves scarce."

They turned back, going as rapidly as they dared, but that which Harry had feared came to pass. The rear files of the horsemen, evidently intending to go to the other side of the camp, rode through the low bushes. Four of them passed so near the boys that they caught in the moonlight a glimpse of the two stooping figures.

"Who is there? Halt!" sharply cried one of them, an officer. But St. Clair cried also:

"Run, Harry! Run for your life, and keep to the bushes!"

The two dashed at utmost speed down the strip of bushes and they heard the thunder of horses' hoofs in the open on either flank. A half dozen shots were fired and the bullets cut leaves and twigs about them. They heard the Northern men shouting: "Spies! Spies! After them! Seize them!"

Harry in the moment of extreme danger retained his presence of mind: "To the cornfield, Arthur!" he cried to his comrade. "The fence is staked and ridered, and their horses can't jump it. If they stop to pull it down they will give us time to get away!"

"Good plan!" returned St. Clair. "But we'd better bend down as we run. Those bullets make my flesh creep!"

A fresh volley was sent into the bushes, but owing to the wise precaution of bending low, the bullets went over their heads, although Harry felt his hair rising up to meet them. In two or three minutes they were at the fence, and they went over it almost like birds. Harry heard two bullets hit the rails as they leaped—they were in view then for a moment—but they merely increased his speed, as he and St. Clair darted side by side through the corn, bending low again.

They heard the horsemen talking and swearing at the barrier, and then they heard the beat of hoofs again.

"They'll divide and send a force around the field each way!" said St. Clair.

"And some of them will dismount and pursue us through it on foot!"

"We can distance anybody on foot. Harry, when I heard those bullets whistling about me I felt as if I could outrun a horse, or a giraffe, or an antelope, or anything on earth! And thunder, Harry, I feel the same way now!"

Bullets fired from the fence made the ploughed land fly not far from them, and they lengthened their stride. Harry afterward said that he did not remember stepping on that cornfield more than twice. Fortunately for them the field, while not very wide, extended far to right and left, and the pursuing horsemen were compelled to make a great circuit.

Before the thudding hoofs came near they were over the fence again, and, still with wonderful powers of flight, were scudding across the country toward their own lines. They came to one of the clusters of trees and dashing into it lay close, their hearts pounding. Looking back they dimly saw the horsemen, riding at random, evidently at a loss.

"That was certainly close," gasped St. Clair. "I'm not going on any more scouts unless I'm ordered to do so."

"Nor I," said Harry. "I've got enough for one night at least. I suppose I'll never forget those men with the red bags in place of breeches, and that tune, 'Dixie.' As soon as I get my breath back I'm going to make a bee line for our own army."

"And when you make your bee line another just as fast and straight will run beside it."

They rested five minutes and then fled for the brook and their own little detachment behind it.

CHAPTER XII

THE FIGHT FOR THE FORT

Before they reached the brook they hailed Sergeant Carrick lest they should be fired upon as enemies, and when his answer came they dropped into a walk, still panting and wiping the perspiration from damp foreheads. They bathed their faces freely in the brook, and sat down on the bank to rest. The sergeant, a regular and a veteran of many border campaigns against the Indians, regarded them benevolently.

"I heard firing in front," he said, "and I thought you might be concerned in it. If it hadn't been for my orders I'd have come forward with some of the men."

"Sergeant," said St. Clair, "if you were in the west again, and you were all alone in the hills or on the plains and a band of yelling Sioux or Blackfeet were to set after you with fell designs upon your scalp, what would you do?"

"I'd run, sir, with all my might. I'd run faster than I ever ran before. I'd run so fast, sir, that my feet wouldn't touch the ground more than once every forty yards. It would be the wisest thing one could do under the circumstances, the only thing, in fact."

"I'm glad to hear you say so, Sergeant Carrick, because you are a man of experience and magnificent sense. What you say proves that Harry and I are full of wisdom. They weren't Sioux or Blackfeet back there and I don't suppose they'd have scalped us, but they were Yankees and their intentions weren't exactly peaceful. So we took your advice before you gave it. If you'll examine the earth out there tomorrow you'll find our footprints only five times to the mile."

Far to the right and left other scattering shots had been fired, where skirmishers in the night came in touch with one another. Hence the adventure of Harry and St. Clair attracted but little attention. Shots at long range were fired nearly every night, and sometimes it was difficult to keep the raw recruits from pulling trigger merely for the pleasure of hearing the report.

But when Harry and St. Clair related the incident the next morning to Colonel Talbot, he spoke with gravity.

"There are many young men of birth and family in our army," he said, "and they must learn that war is a serious business. It is more than that; it is a deadly business, the most deadly business of all. If the Yankees had caught you two, it would have served you right."

"They scared us badly enough as it was, sir," said St. Clair.

Colonel Leonidas Talbot smiled slightly.

"That part of it at least will do you good," he said. "You young men don't know what war is, and you are growing fat and saucy in a pleasant country in June. But there is something ahead that will take a little of the starch out of you and teach you sense. No, you needn't look inquiringly at me, because I'm not going to tell you what it is, but go get some sleep, which you will need badly, and be ready at four o'clock this afternoon, because the Invincibles march then and you march with them."

Harry and St. Clair saluted and retired. They knew that it was not worth while to ask Colonel Talbot any questions. Since he had met him again in Virginia, Harry had recognized a difference in this South Carolina colonel. The kindliness was still there, but there was a new sternness also. The friend was being merged into the commander.

They chose a tent in order to shut out the noise and make sleep possible, but on their way to it they were waylaid by Langdon, who had heard something of their adventure the night before, and who felt chagrin because he had lacked a part in it.

"Although everything generally happens for the best, there is a slip sometimes," he said, "and I want to be in on the next move, whatever it is. There is a rumor that the Invincibles are to march. You have been before the colonel, and you ought to know. Is it true?"

"It is," replied Harry, "but that's all we do know. He was pretty sharp with us, Tom, and among our three selves, we are not going to get any favors from Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire because we're friends of theirs and would be likely to meet in the same drawing-rooms, if there were no war."

Harry and St. Clair slept well, despite the noises of a camp, but they were ready at the appointed time, very precise in their new uniforms. Langdon was with them and the three were eager for the movement, the nature of which officers alone seemed to know.

The Invincibles were an infantry regiment and the three youths, like the men, were on foot. They filed off to the left behind the front line of the Southern army, and marched steadily westward, inclining slightly to the north. Many of the men, or rather boys, not yet fast in the bonds of discipline, began to talk, and guess together about their errand. But Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire rode along the line and sternly commanded silence, once or twice making the menace of the sword. The lads scarcely understood it, but they were awed into silence. Then there was no noise but the rattle of their weapons and the steady tread of eight hundred men.

The young troops had been kept in splendid condition, drilling steadily, and they marched well. They passed to the extreme western end of the Confederate camp, and continued into the hills. The sun had passed its zenith when they started and a pleasant, cool breeze blew from the slopes of the western mountains. The sun set late, but the twilight began to fall at last, and they saw about them many places suitable for a camp and supper. But Colonel Talbot, who was now at the head of the line, rode on and gave no sign.

"If I were riding a bay horse fifteen hands high I could go on, too, forever," whispered Langdon to Harry.

"Remember your belief that everything happens for the best and just keep on marching."

The twilight retreated before the dark, but the regiment continued. Harry saw a dusky colonel on a dusky horse at the head of the line, and nearer by was Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire, also riding, silent and stern. The Invincibles were weary. It was now nine o'clock, and they had marched many hours without a rest, but they did not dare to murmur, at least not loud enough to be heard by Colonel Leonidas Talbot and his lieutenant-colonel, Hector St. Hilaire.

"I wonder if this is going on all night," whispered Langdon.

"Very likely," returned Harry, "but remember that everything is for the best."

Langdon gave him a reproachful look, but trudged sturdily on. They halted about an hour later, but only for fifteen or twenty minutes. They had now come into much rougher country, steep, with high hills and populated thinly. Westward, the mountains seemed very near in the clear moonlight. No explanation was given to the Invincibles, but the officers rode among the groups and made a careful inspection of arms and equipment. Then the word to march once more was given.

They did not stop, except for short rests, until about three o'clock in the morning, when they came to the crest of a high ridge, covered with dense forest, but without undergrowth. Then the officers dismounted, and the word was passed to the men that they would remain there until dawn, but before they lay down on the ground Colonel Talbot told them what was expected of them, which was much.

"A strong Northern force is encamped on the slope beyond," he said. "It is in a position from which the left flank of our main army can be threatened. Our enemies there are fortified with earthworks and they have cannon. If they hold the place they are likely to increase heavily in numbers. It is our business to drive them out."

The colonel told some of the officers within Harry's hearing that they could attack before dawn, but night assaults, unless with veteran troops, generally defeated themselves through confusion and uncertainty. Nevertheless, he hoped to surprise the Northern soldiers over their coffee. For that reason the men were compelled to lie down in their blankets in the dark. Not a single light was permitted, but they were allowed to eat some cold food, which they brought in their knapsacks.

Although it was June, the night was chill on the high hills, and Harry and his two friends, after their duties were done, wrapped their blankets closely around themselves as they sat on the ground, with their backs against a big tree. The physical relaxation after such hard marching and the sharp wind of the night made Harry shiver, despite his blanket. St. Clair and Langdon shivered, too. They did not know that part of it was that three-o'clock-in-the-morning feeling.

Harry, sensitive, keenly alive to impressions, was oppressed by a certain heavy and uncanny feeling. They were going into battle in the morning—and with men whom he did not hate. The attacks on the Star of the West and Sumter had been bombardments, distant affairs, where he did not see the face of his enemy, but here it would be another matter. The real shock of battle would come, and the eyes of men seeking to kill would look into the eyes of others who also sought to kill.

He and St. Clair were not sleepy, as they had slept through most of the day, but Langdon was already nodding. Most of the soldiers also had fallen asleep through exhaustion, and Harry saw them in the dusk lying in long rows. The faint moon throwing a ghostly light over so many motionless forms made the whole scene weird and unreal to Harry. He shook himself to cast off the spell, and, closing his eyes, sought sleep.

But sleep would not come and the obstinate lids lifted again. It had turned a little darker and the motionless forms at the far end of the line were hidden. But those nearer were so still that they seemed to have been put there to stay forever. St. Clair had yielded at last to weariness and with his back against the tree slept by Harry's side.