The Rock of Chickamauga - Joseph A. Altsheler (macos ebook reader .txt) 📗

may turn you over with full explanations to the authorities."

 

Dick noted the significance of the words, "if I am still able to put my

hand on you," but he merely spoke of his gratitude and went with young

Woodville into the little apartment. It was on the right side of the

hall, and a round shutterless hole opened into the ravine, admitting

light and air. The "window," which was not more than a foot in diameter

faced toward the east and gave a view of earthworks, and the region

beyond, where the Union army stood.

 

The room itself contained but little, a cot, some blankets, clothing,

and articles of the toilet.

 

"Mason," said Woodville, "make yourself as comfortable as you can here.

I did not know until I escaped from Jackson that it was you who ignored

my presence there. You seem in some manner to have won the good opinion

of my uncle, and, in any event, he could not bear to remain in debt to a

Yankee. If you're careful you're safe here for the day, although you may

be lonesome. I must go at once to our lines. Cousin Margaret will bring

you something to eat."

 

They shook hands again.

 

"I can't do much fighting," said Woodville, "owing to this wounded arm

of mine, but I can carry messages, and the line is so long many are to

be taken."

 

He went out and Miss Woodville came soon with food on a tray. Dick

suspected that they could ill spare it, but he must eat and he feared to

offer pay. It embarrassed him, too, that she should wait upon him, but,

in their situation, it was absolutely necessary that she do so, even

were there a servant somewhere, which he doubted. But she left the tray,

and when she returned for it an hour later she had only a few words to

say.

 

Dick stood at the round hole that served as a window. There were

bushes about it, and, at that point, the cliff seemed to be almost

perpendicular. He was safe from observation and he looked over a

vast expanse of country. The morning was dazzlingly clear, and he saw

sections of the Confederate earthworks with their men and guns, and far

beyond them other earthworks and other guns, which he knew were those of

his own people.

 

While he stood there alone, free from the tension that had lasted

while Slade was present, he realized the great volume of fire that the

Northern cannon were pouring without ceasing upon Vicksburg. The deep

rumble was continually in his ears, and at times his imagination made

the earth shake. He saw two shells burst in the air, and a shattering

explosion told that a third struck near by. To the eastward smoke was

always drifting. The Southern cannon seldom replied.

 

He resolved to attempt escape during the coming night. It hurt him to

bring danger upon the Woodvilles and he wished, too, to fulfill his

mission. Others, beyond question, would reach the fleet with the

message, but he wished to reach it also.

 

Yet nothing new occurred during all the long day. Miss Woodville brought

him more food at noon, but scarcely spoke. Then he returned to the hole

in the cliff, and remained there until twilight. Young Woodville

came, and he gathered from his manner that there had been no important

movement of the armies, that all as yet was preparation. But he inferred

that the storm was coming, and he told Victor that he meant to leave

that night.

 

He was opposed vehemently. The line of Southern sentinels watched

everywhere. Slade was most vigilant. He might come at any time into the

ravine. No, he must wait. The next night, perhaps, but in any event he

must remain a while.

 

Nor did he depart the next night either. Instead, two or three days

passed, and he was still in the house dug in the hillside, a guest and

yet a captive. The bombardment had gone on, his food was still brought

to him by Miss Woodville, and once or twice Victor came, but Dick, as he

was in honor bound, asked him no question about the armies.

 

The waiting, the loneliness and the suspense were terrible to one so

young, and so ambitious. And yet he had fared better than he had a right

to expect, a fact, however, that did not relieve his situation.

 

Another night came, and he went to sleep in his lonely cell in the wall,

but he was awakened while it was yet intensely dark by a cannonade far

surpassing in violence any that had gone before. He rushed to the hole,

but he could see nothing in the ravine. Yet the whole plateau seemed to

shake with the violence of the concussions and the crash of exploding

shells.

 

The fire came from all sides, from the river as well as the land. The

boom of the huge mortars on the boats there sounded above everything.

Dick knew absolutely now that the message he was to carry had been

delivered by somebody else.

 

He heard under the continued thunder of the guns sharp commands, and the

tread of many troops moving. He knew that the Southern forces were going

into position, and he felt himself that the tremendous fire was the

prelude to a great attack. His excitement grew. He strained his eyes,

but he could see nothing in the dark ravine, or out there where the

cannon roared, save the rapid, red flashes under the dim horizon. He had

his watch and he had kept it running. Now he was able to make out that

it was only three o'clock in the morning. A long time until day and

he must wait until then to know what such a furious convulsion would

achieve.

 

The slow time passed, and there was no decrease of the fire. Once or

twice he came away from the window and listened at the entrance to his

little room, but he could hear nothing stirring in the larger chamber.

Yet it was incredible that Colonel Woodville and his daughter should not

be awake. They would certainly be listening with an anxiety and suspense

not less than his.

 

Dawn came after painful ages, and slowly the region out there where the

Union army lay rose into the light. But it was a red dawn, a dawn in

flame and smoke. Scores of guns crashed in front, and behind the heavy

booming of the mortars on the boats formed the overnote of the storm.

 

The opening was not large, but it afforded the lad a good view, and he

thrust his head out as far as he could, every nerve in him leaping at

the deep roar of the cannonade. He had no doubt that the assault was

about to be made. He was wild with eagerness to see it, and it was a

cruel hurt to his spirit that he was held there, and could not take a

part in it.

 

He thought of rushing from the place, and of seeking a way through the

lines to his own army, but a little reflection showed him that it would

be folly. He must merely be a witness, while Colonel Winchester, Warner,

Pennington, the sergeant, Colonel Hertford, all whom he knew and the

tens of thousands whom he did not know, fought the battle.

 

A tremendous sound, distant and steady, would not blot out much smaller

sounds nearby, and now he heard noises in the larger chamber. The voice

of Colonel Woodville was raised in sharp command.

 

"Lift me up!" he said, "I must see! Must I lie here, eating my soul out,

when a great battle is going on! Help me up, I say! Wound or no wound, I

will go to the door!"

 

Then the voice of Miss Woodville attempting to soothe was heard, but

the colonel broke forth more furiously than ever, not at her, but at his

unhappy fate.

 

Dick, spurred by impulse, left his alcove and entered the room.

 

"Sir," he said respectfully to Colonel Woodville, "you are eager to see,

and so am I. May I help you?"

 

Colonel Woodville turned a red eye upon him.

 

"Young man," he said, "you have shown before a sense of fitness, and

your appearance now is most welcome. You shall help me to the door,

and I will lean upon you. Together we will see what is going to happen,

although I wish for one result, and you for another. No, Margaret, it

is not worth while to protest any further. My young Yankee and I will

manage it very well between us."

 

Miss Woodville stepped aside and smiled wanly.

 

"I think it is best, Miss Woodville," Dick said in a low tone.

 

"Perhaps," she replied.

 

Colonel Woodville impatiently threw off the cover. He wore a long purple

dressing gown, and his wound was in the leg, but it was partly healed.

Dick helped him out of the bed and then supported him with his arm under

his shoulder. Within that singular abode the roar of the guns was a

steady and sinister mutter, but beneath it now appeared another note.

 

Colonel Woodville had begun to swear. It was not the torrent of loud

imprecation that Dick had heard in Jackson, but subdued, and all the

more fierce because it was so like the ferocious whine of a powerful and

hurt wild animal. Swearing was common enough among the older men of the

South, even among the educated, but Colonel Woodville now surpassed them

all.

 

Dick heard oaths, ripe and rich, entirely new to him, and he heard the

old ones in new arrangements and with new inflections. And yet there was

no blasphemy about it. It seemed a part of time and place, and, what was

more, it seemed natural coming from the lips of the old colonel.

 

They reached the door, the cut in the side of the ravine, and at once a

wide portion of the battlefield sprang into the light, while the roar

of the guns was redoubled. Dick would have stepped back now, but Colonel

Woodville's hand rested on his shoulder and his support was needed.

 

"My glasses, Margaret!" said the colonel. "I must see! I will see! If

I am but an old hound, lying here while the pack is in full cry, I will

nevertheless see the chase! And even if I am an old hound I could run

with the best of them if that infernal Yankee bullet had not taken me in

the leg!"

 

Miss Woodville brought him the glasses, a powerful pair, and he glued

them instantly to his eyes. Dick saw only the field of battle, dark

lines and blurs, the red flare of cannon and rifle fire, and towers and

banks of smoke, but the colonel saw individual human beings, and, with

his trained military eye, he knew what the movements meant. Dick felt

the hand upon his shoulder trembling with excitement. He was excited

himself. Miss Woodville stood just behind them, and a faint tinge of

color appeared in her pale face.

 

"The Yankees are getting ready to charge," said the colonel. "At the

point we see they will not yet rush forward. They will, of course, wait

for a preconcerted signal, and then their whole army will attack at

once. But the woods and ravines are filled with their skirmishers,

trying to clear the way. I can see them in hundreds and hundreds, and

their rifles make sheets of flame. All the time the cannon are firing

over their heads. Heavens, what a bombardment! I've never before

listened to its like!"

 

"What are our troops doing, father?" asked Miss Woodville.

 

"Very little yet, and they should do little. Pemberton is showing more

judgment than I expected of him. The defense should hold its fire until

the enemy is well within range and that's what we're doing!"

 

The colonel leaned a little more heavily upon him, but Dick steadied

himself. The old man still kept the glasses to his eyes, and swept them

back and forth in as wide an arc as their position permitted. The hills

shook with the thunder of the cannon, and the brilliant sun, piercing

through the smoke, lighted up the vast battle line.

 

"The attack of the skirmishers grows hotter," said the old man. "The

thickets blaze with the fire of their rifles. Heavy masses of infantry

are moving forward. Now they stop and lie on their arms. They are

awaiting the word from other parts of the field, and it shows with

certainty that a grand attack is coming. Two batteries of eight guns

each have come nearer. I did not think it possible for the fire of their

cannon to increase, but it has done so. Young sir, would you care to

look through the glasses?"

 

"I believe not, Colonel. I will trust to the naked eye and your report."

 

It was an odd feeling that made Dick decline the glasses. If he looked

he must tell to