The Long Roll
is the Eleventh Mississippi!"--"Lawton! Lawton!"--"Sixty-fifth Virginia,
fall in here!"
East and south, sloping toward the Chickahominy, ran several miles of
heavy forest. It was filled with sound,--the hoofs of horses, the
rumbling of wheels, the breaking through undergrowth of masses of
men,--sound that was dying in volume, rolling toward the Chickahominy.
On the trampled brow of the plateau, beneath shot-riddled trees, General
D. H. Hill, coming from the northern face, found General Winder of the
First Brigade standing with several of his officers, trying to pierce
the murk toward the river. "You rank here, General Winder?" said Hill.
"I think so, general. Such a confusion of troops I have never seen! They
have been reporting to me. It is yours now to command."
"Have you seen General Jackson?"
"No. Not lately."
D. H. Hill looked toward the Chickahominy. "I don't deny it's
temptatious! And yet.... Very dark. Thick woods. Don't know what
obstructions. Men exhausted. Our centre and right not come up. Artillery
still across the swamp--What's that cheering toward the river?"
"I don't know. McClellan may have sent reinforcements."
"Have you pickets out?"
"Yes. What do you think, Cleave?"
"I think, sir, the rout outweighs the reinforcements. I think we should
press on at once."
"If we had cavalry!" said Winder impatiently. "However, General Stuart
has swept down toward the Pamunkey. That will be their line of
retreat--to the White House."
"There is the chance," said Cleave, "that General McClellan will abandon
that line, and make instead for the James and the gunboats at Harrison's
Landing."
Hill nodded. "Yes, it's a possibility. General Lee is aware of it. He'll
not unmask Richmond and come altogether on this side the Chickahominy
until he knows. All that crowd down there may set to and cross
to-night--"
"How many bridges?" asked Lawton.
"Alexander's and Grapevine. Woodbury's higher up."
"I do not believe that there are three, sir. There is a report that two
are burned. I believe that the Grapevine is their only road--"
"You believe, colonel, but you do not know. What do you think, General
Winder?"
"I think, sir, with Colonel Cleave, that we should push down through the
woods to the right of the Grapevine Bridge. They, too, are exhausted,
their horses jaded, their ammunition spent. We could gather a little
artillery--Poague's battery is here. They are crushed together, in great
masses. If we could fall upon them, cause a great panic there at the
water, much might come of it."
Hill looked with troubled eyes about the plateau. "And two or three
thousand men, perhaps, be swallowed up and lost! A grand charge that
took this plateau--yes! and a grand charge at Beaver Dam Creek yesterday
at dark, and a grand charge when Albert Sidney Johnston was killed, and
a grand charge when Ashby was killed, and on a number of other
occasions, and now a grand night-time charge with worn-out troops. All
grand--just the kind of grandeur the South cannot afford!... An army yet
of blue troops and fresh, shouting brigades, and our centre and right on
the other side of the creek.... I don't dare do it, gentlemen!--not on
my own responsibility. What do you think, General Lawton?"
"I think you are right, sir."
"More and more troops are coming upon the plateau," said Winder.
"General Hill, if you will order us to go we will see to it that you do
not repent--"
"They are defeated and retreating, sir," said Cleave. "If they are
crossing the river, it is at least in the realm of probability that they
have but the one path. No one knows better than you what resolute
pressure might now accomplish. Every moment that we wait they gain in
steadiness, and other reserves will come up. Make their junction with
their centre, and to-morrow we fight a terrific battle where to-night a
lesser struggle might secure a greater victory."
"Speaking largely, that is true," said Hill. "But--I wish General
Jackson were here! I think you know, gentlemen, that, personally, I
could wish, at this minute, to be down there in the woods, beside the
Grapevine Bridge. But with the knowledge that the enemy is bringing up
reserves, with the darkness so thick, with no great force, and that
exhausted, and with no artillery, I cannot take the responsibility of
the advance. If General Jackson were here--"
"May I send in search of him, sir?"
"Yes, General Winder, you may do that. And if he says, 'Go!' there won't
one of you be happier than I."
"We know that, general.--Cleave, I am going to send you. You're far the
likeliest. We want him to come and lead us to the completest victory. By
God, we want Front Royal and Port Republic again!"
Cleave, turning, disappeared into the darkness. "See to your men,
General Winder. Get them ready," said Hill. "I'm going a little way into
the woods to see what I can see myself." He went, Lawton with him.
Before many minutes had passed they were back. "Nearly walked into their
lines! Strung across the Grapevine road. Massed thick between us and the
Chickahominy. Scattered like acorns through the woods. Pretty miserable,
I gather. Passed party hunting water. Speech bewrayeth the man, so
didn't say anything. Heard the pickets talking. 'Twas Meagher and French
came up. They're building great fires by the water. Looks as though they
meant to cross. Nothing of General Jackson yet?"
"No, sir. Not yet."
"Well, I'm going into the house for a morsel of food. Send for me the
moment you hear anything. I wish the artillery were up. Who's this?
Colonel Fauquier Cary? In the darkness, couldn't tell. Yes, General
Winder thinks so, too. We've sent to ask General Jackson. Come with me,
Cary, to the house. Faugh! this stifling heat! And that was Sykes we
were fighting against--George Sykes! Remember he was my roommate at the
Point?"
The short path to McGehee's house was not trodden without difficulty.
All the great plateau was cumbered with debris of the struggle. On the
cut and furrowed ground one stumbled upon abandoned stores and arms.
There were overturned wagons and ambulances with dead horses; there were
ruined gun-carriages; there were wrecked litters, fallen tents, dead men
and the wounded. Here, and on the plain below, the lanterns of the
surgeons and their helpers moved like glowworms. They gathered the
wounded, blue and grey. "Treat the whole field alike," had said Lee.
Everywhere were troops seeking their commands, hoarsely calling, joining
at last their comrades. Fires had been kindled. Dim, dim, in the
southwestern sky beyond the yet rolling vapour, showed a gleaming where
was Richmond. D. H. Hill and Fauquier Cary went indoors. An aide managed
to find some biscuits, and there was water from the well. "I haven't
touched food since daybreak," said the general.
"Nor I. Much as I like him, I am loath to let Fitz John Porter strike
down the York River line to-night, if that's his road, or cross the
Chickahominy if that's the road! We have a victory. Press it home and
fix it there."
"I believe that you are right. Surely Jackson will see it so."
"Where is General Jackson?"
"God knows!--Thank you, Reid. Poor fare, Cary, but familiar. Come, Reid,
get your share."
They ate the hard biscuits and drank the well-water. The air was still
and sultry; through the windows they heard, afar off, the bugles--their
own and those of the foe.
"High, over all the melancholy bugle grieves."
Moths came in to the candle. With his hand Cary warned them away. One
lit on his sleeve. "I wonder what you think of it," he said, and put him
out of window. There was a stir at the door. A sergeant appeared. "We're
gathering up the wounded, general--and we found a Yankee officer under
the trees just here--and he said you'd know him--but he's fainted dead
away--" He moved aside. "Litters gave out long ago, so we're taking U.
S. blankets--"
Four men, carrying by the corners a blanket with an unconscious man upon
it, came into the room. The Confederate officers looked. "No, I don't
know him. Why, wait--Yes, I do! It's Clitz--Clitz that was so young and
red-cheeked and our pet at the Point!... Yes, and one day in Mexico his
regiment filed past, going into a fight, and he looked so like a gallant
boy that I prayed to God that Clitz might not be hurt!... Reid, have him
put in a room here! See that Dr. Mott sees him at once.--O God, Cary,
this fratricidal war! Fighting George Sykes all day, and now this boy--"
"Yes," said Cary. "Once to-day I was opposed to Fitz John Porter. He
looked at me out of a cloud, and I looked at him out of one, and the
battle roared between. I always liked him." He walked across the room,
looked out of the window upon the battlefield, and came back. "But," he
said grimly, "it is a war of invasion. What do you think is wrong with
Jackson?"
The other looked at him with his fine, kindly eyes. "Why, let me tell
you, Cary,--since it won't go any further,--I am as good a Presbyterian
as he is, but I think he has prayed too much."
"I see!" said Cary. "Well, I would be willing to put up a petition of my
own just now.--Delay! Delay! We have set opportunity against a wall and
called out the firing party." He rose. "Thanks for the biscuits. I feel
another man. I'll go now and look after my wounded. There are enough of
them, poor souls!"
Another stir occurred at the door. The aide appeared. "They've taken
some prisoners in the wood at the foot of the hill, sir. One of them
says he's General Reynolds--"
"Reynolds! Good God, Reynolds! Bring him in--"
General Reynolds came in. "Reynolds!"--"Hill!"--"How are you,
Reynolds?"--"Good Lord, it's Fauquier Cary!"
The aide put a chair. The prisoner sank into it and covered his face
with his hands. Presently he let them drop. "Hill, we ought not to be
enemies! Messmates and tent-mates for a year!... It's ghastly."
"I'll agree with you there, Reynolds. It's ghastlier than ghastly.--You
aren't hurt?"
Outside, over the great hilltop upon which Richard Cleave was moving,
the darkness might be felt. The air smelled strongly of burned powder,
was yet thickened by smoke. Where fires had been kindled, the ruddy
light went up like pillars to sustain a cloudy roof. There were
treetops, burnished, high in air; then all the land fell to the swampy
shores of the creek, and beyond to the vast and sombre battle plain,
where the shells had rained. The masses of grey troops upon it, resting
on their arms, could be divined by the red points of camp-fires.
Lanterns, also, were wandering like marsh lights, up and down and to and
fro. Here, on the plateau, it was the same. They danced like giant
fireflies. He passed a blazing log about which were gathered a dozen
men. Some wag of the mess had said something jocular; to a man they were
laughing convulsively. Had they been blamed, they would perhaps have
answered that it was better to laugh than to cry. Cleave passed them
with no inclination to blame, and came to where, under the trees, the
65th was gathered. Here, too, there were fires; his men were dropped
like acorns on the ground, making a little "coosh," frying a little
bacon, attending to slight hurts, cognizant of the missing but not
referring to them loudly, glad of victory, burying all loss, with a wide
swing of courage making the best of it in the darkness. When they saw
Cleave they suspended all other operations long enough to cheer him. He
smiled, waved his hand, spoke a short word to Hairston Breckinridge, and
hurried on. He passed the 2d Virginia, mourning its colonel--Colonel
Allen--fallen in the front of the charge. He passed other bivouacs--men
of Rodes's, of Garland's, of Trimble's. "Where is General
Jackson?"--"Can't tell you, sir--" "Here is General Ewell."