Part 10 (1/2)
He rode the next morning with General Ewell and the whole division to join Jackson's army. It was a trim body of men, well clad, fresh and strong, and they marched swiftly along the turnpike, on both sides of which Jackson was encamped further on.
Harry felt a personal pride in being with Ewell when the junction was to be made. He felt that, in a sense, he was leading in this great reinforcement himself, and he looked back with intense satisfaction at the powerful column marching so swiftly along the turnpike.
They came late in the day to Jackson's pickets, and then they saw his army, scattered through the fields on either side of the road.
Harry rejoiced once more in the grand appearance of the new division. Every coat or tunic sat straight. Every shoe-lace was tied, and they marched with the beautiful, even step of soldiers on parade. They were to encamp beyond Jackson's old army, and as they pa.s.sed along the turnpike it was lined on either side by Jackson's own men, cheering with vigor.
The colonel who was in immediate charge of the encampment, a man who had never seen General Jackson, asked Harry where he might find him. Harry pointed to a man sitting on the top rail of a fence beside the road.
”But I asked for General Jackson,” said the colonel.
”That's General Jackson.”
The colonel approached and saluted. General Jackson's clothes were soiled and dusty. His feet, encased in cavalry boots that reached beyond the knees, rested upon a lower rail of the fence. A worn cap with a dented visor almost covered his eyes. The rest of his face was concealed by a heavy, dark beard.
”General Jackson, I believe,” said the officer, saluting.
”Yes. How far have those men marched?” The voice was kindly and approving.
”We've come twenty-six miles, sir.”
”Good. And I see no stragglers.”
”We allow no stragglers.”
”Better still. I haven't been able to keep my own men from straggling, and you'll have to teach them.”
At that moment the Acadian band began to play, and it played the merriest waltz it knew. Jackson gazed at it, took a lemon from his pocket and began to suck the juice from it meditatively. The officer stood before him in some embarra.s.sment.
”Aren't they rather thoughtless for such serious work as war?” asked the Presbyterian general.
”I am confident, sir, that their natural gayety will not impair their value as soldiers.”
Jackson put the end of the lemon back in his mouth and drew some juice from it. The colonel bowed and retired. Then Jackson beckoned to Harry, who stood by.
”Follow him and tell him,” he said, ”that the band can play as much as it likes. I noticed, too, that it plays well.”
Jackson smiled and Harry hurried after the officer, who flushed with gratification, when the message was delivered to him.
”I'll tell it to the men,” he said, ”and they'll fight all the better for it.”
That night it was a formidable army that slept in the fields on either side of the turnpike, and in the silence and the dark, Stonewall Jackson was preparing to launch the thunderbolt.
CHAPTER IX. TURNING ON THE FOE
Harry was awakened at the first shoot of dawn by the sound of trumpets. It was now approaching the last of May and the cold nights had long since pa.s.sed. A warm sun was fast showing its edge in the east, and, bathing his face at a brook and s.n.a.t.c.hing a little breakfast, he was ready. Stonewall Jackson was already up, and his colored servant was holding Little Sorrel for him.
The army was fast forming into line, the new men of Ewell resolved to become as famous foot cavalry as those who had been with Jackson all along. Ewell himself, full of enthusiasm and already devoted to his chief, was riding among them, and whenever he spoke to one of them he c.o.c.ked his head on one side in the peculiar manner that was habitual with him. Now and then, as the sun grew warmer, he took off his hat and his bald head gleamed under the yellow rays.
”Which way do you think we're going?” said the young staff officer, George Dalton, to Harry-Dalton was a quiet youth with a good deal of the Puritan about him and Harry liked him.
”I'm not thinking about it at all,” replied Harry with a laugh. ”I've quit trying to guess what our general is going to do, but I fancy that he means to lead us against the enemy. He has the numbers now.”
”I suppose you're right,” said Dalton. ”I've been trying to guess all along, but I think I'll give it up now and merely follow where the general leads.”
The bugles blew, the troops rapidly fell into line and marched northward along the turnpike, the Creole band began to play again one of those lilting waltz tunes, and the speed of the men increased, their feet rising and falling swiftly to the rhythm of the galloping air. Jackson, who was near the head of the column, looked back and Harry saw a faint smile pa.s.s over his grim face. He saw the value of the music.
”I never heard such airs in our Presbyterian church,” said Dalton to Harry.
”But this isn't a church.”
”No, it isn't, but those Creole tunes suit here. They put fresh life into me.”
”Same here. And they help the men, too. Look how gay they are.”
Up went the s.h.i.+ning sun. The brilliant blue light, shot with gold, spread from horizon to horizon, little white clouds of vapor, tinted at the edges with gold from the sun, floated here and there. It was beautiful May over all the valley. White dust flew from the turnpike under the feet of so many marching men and horses, and the wheels of cannon. Suddenly the Georgia troops that had suffered so severely at McDowell began to sing a verse from the Stars and Bars, and gradually the whole column joined in: ”Now Georgia marches to the front And close beside her come Her sisters by the Mexique sea With pealing trump and drum, Till answering back from hill and glen The rallying cry afar, A nation hoists the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star.”
It was impossible not to feel emotion. The face of the most solemn Presbyterian of them all flushed and his eyes glowed. Now the band, that wonderful band of the Acadians, was playing the tune, and the mighty chorus rolled and swelled across the fields. Harry's heart throbbed hard. He was with the South, his own South, and he was swayed wholly by feeling.
The Acadians were leading the army. Harry saw Jackson whispering something to a staff officer. The officer galloped forward and spoke to Taylor, the commander of the Louisiana troops. Instantly the Acadians turned sharply from the turnpike and walked in a diagonal line through the fields. The whole army followed and they marched steadily northward and eastward.
Harry had another good and close view of the Ma.s.sanuttons, now one vast ma.s.s of dark green foliage, and it caused his thoughts to turn to Shepard. He had no doubt that the wary and astute Northern scout was somewhere near watching the march of Stonewall. He had secured a pair of gla.s.ses of his own and he scanned the fields and forests now for a sight of him and his bold hors.e.m.e.n. But he saw no blue uniforms, merely farmers and their wives and children, shouting with joy at the sight of Jackson, eager to give him information, and eager to hide it from Banks.
But Harry was destined to have more than another view of the Ma.s.sanuttons. Jackson marched steadily for four days, crossing the Ma.s.sanuttons at the defile, and coming down into the eastern valley. The troops were joyous throughout the journey, although they had not the least idea for what they were destined, and Ewell's men made good their claim to a place of equal honor in the foot cavalry.
They were now in the division of the great valley known as the Luray, and only when they stopped did Harry and his comrades of the staff learn that the Northern army under Kenly was only ten miles away at Front Royal.
The preceding night had been one of great confidence, even of light-heartedness in Was.h.i.+ngton. The worn and melancholy President felt that a triumphant issue of the war was at hand. The Secretary of War was more than sanguine, and the people in the city joyfully expected speedy news of the fall of Richmond. McClellan was advancing with an overwhelming force on the Southern capital, and the few regiments of Jackson were lost somewhere in the mountains. In the west all things were going well under Grant.
It was only a few who, recognizing that the army of Jackson was lost to Northern eyes, began to ask questions about it. But they were laughed down. Jackson had too few men to do any harm, wherever he might be. n.o.body suspected that at dawn Jackson, with a strong force, would be only a little more than three score miles from the Union capital itself. Even Banks himself, who was only half that distance from the Southern army, did not dream that it was coming.
When the sun swung clear that May morning there was a great elation in this army which had been lost to its enemies for days and which the unknowing despised. They ate a good breakfast, and then, as the Creole band began to play its waltzes again, they advanced swiftly on Front Royal.
”We'll be attacking in two hours,” said Dalton.
”In less time than that, I'm thinking,” said Harry. ”Look how the men are speeding it up!”
The band ceased suddenly. Harry surmised that it had been stopped, in order to suppress noise as much as possible, now that they were approaching the enemy. Cheering and loud talking also were stopped, and they heard now the heavy beat of footsteps, horses and men, and the rumble of vehicles, cannon and wagons. The morning was bright and hot. A haze of heat hung over the mountains, and to Harry the valley was more beautiful and picturesque than ever. He had again flitting feelings of melancholy that it should be torn so ruthlessly by war.
If Shepard and other Northern scouts were near, they were lax that morning. Not a soul in the garrison at Front Royal dreamed of Jackson's swift approach. They were soon to have a terrible awakening.
Harry saw Jackson raise the visor of his old cap a little, and he saw the eyes beneath it gleam.
”We must be near Front Royal,” he said to Dalton.