Chapter XI. In Virginia

The Guns of Bull Run

by Joseph A. Altsheler

Harry left the valley with the keenest feeling of regret,
realizing at the parting how strong a friendship he had formed with
this family. But he felt that he could not delay any longer. Affairs
must be moving now in the great world in the east, and he wished to
be at the heart of them. He had a strong, sure-footed horse, and he
had supplies and an extra suit of clothes in his saddle bags. The
rifle across his back would attract no attention, as all the men in
the mountains carried rifles.

Jarvis had instructed Harry carefully about the road or path,
and as the boy was already an experienced traveler with an excellent
sense of direction, there was no danger of his getting lost in the
wilderness.

Jarvis, Ike, and Mrs. Simmons gave him farewells which were full
of feeling. Aunt Suse had come down the brick walk, tap-tapping with
her cane, as Harry stood at the gate ready to mount his horse.

"Good-bye, Aunt Susan," he said. "I came a stranger, but this
house has been made a home to me."

She peered up at him, and Harry saw that once more her old eyes
were flaming with the light he had seen there when he arrived.

"Good-bye, governor," she said, holding out a wrinkled and
trembling hand. "I am proud that our house has sheltered you, but it
is not for the last time. You will come again, and you will be thin
and pale and in rags, and you will fall at the door. I see you
coming with these two eyes of mine."

"Hush, Aunt Suse," exclaimed Mrs. Simmons. "It is not Governor
Ware, it is his great-grandson, and you mustn't send him away tellin'
of terrible things that will happen to him."

"I'm not afraid," said Harry, "and I hope that I'll see Aunt
Susan and all of you again."

He lifted her hand and kissed it in the old-fashioned manner.

She smiled and he heard her murmur:

"It is the great governor's way. He kissed my hand like that
once before, when I went to Frankfort on the lumber raft."

"Good-bye, Harry," repeated Jarvis. "If you're bound to fight I
reckon that's jest what you're bound to do, an' it ain't no good for
me to say anythin'. Be shore you follow the trail jest as I laid it
out to you an' in two days you'll strike the Wilderness Road. After
that it's easy."

When Harry rode away something rose in his throat and choked him
for a moment. He knew that he would never again find more kindly
people than these simple mountaineers. Then in vivid phrases he
heard once more the old woman's prophecy: "You will come again, and
you will be thin and pale and in rags, and you will fall at the
door." For a moment it shadowed the sunlight. Then he laughed at
himself. No one could see into the future.

He was now across the valley and his path led along the base of
the mountain. He looked back and saw the four standing on the porch,
Jarvis, Ike, Mrs. Simmons, and old Aunt Suse. He waved his hand to
them and all four waved back. A singular thrill ran through him.
Could it be possible that he would come again, and in the manner that
the old woman had predicted?

The path, in another minute, curved around the mountain, and the
valley was shut from view. Nor, as he rode on, did he catch another
glimpse of it. One might roam the mountains for months and never see
the home of Samuel Jarvis.

The two days passed without event. The weather remained fair,
and no one interfered with him. He slept the first night at a log
cabin that Jarvis had named, having reached it in due time, and the
second day he reached, also in due time, the old Wilderness Road.

Thence the boy advanced by easy stages into Virginia until he
reached a railroad, where he sold his horse and took a train for
Richmond, having come in a few days out of the cool, peaceful
atmosphere of the mountains into another, which was surcharged
everywhere with the fiery breath of war.

Harry realized as he approached the capital the deep intensity
of feeling in everybody. The Virginians were less volatile than the
South Carolinians, and they had long refused to go out, but now that
they were out they were pouring into the Southern army, and they were
animated by an extraordinary zeal. He began to hear new or
unfamiliar names, Early, and Ewell, and Jackson, and Lee, and
Johnston, and Hill, and Stuart, and Ashby, names that he would never
forget, but names that as yet meant little to him.

He had letters from his father and he expected to find his
friends of Charleston in Richmond or at the front. General
Beauregard, whom he knew, would be in command of the army threatening
Washington, and he would not go into a camp of strangers.

It was now early in June, and the country was at its best. On
both sides of the railway spread the fair Virginia fields, and the
earth, save where the ploughed lands stretched, was in its deepest
tints of green. Harry, thrusting his head from the window, looked
eagerly ahead at the city rising on its hills. Then a shade smaller
than Charleston, it, too, was a famous place in the South, and it was
full of great associations. Harry, like all the educated boys of the
South, honored and admired its public men. They were mighty names to
him. He was about to tread streets that had been trod by the famous
Jefferson, by Madison, Monroe, Randolph of Roanoke, and many others.
The shades of the great Virginians rose in a host before him.

He arrived about noon, and, as he carried no baggage except his
saddle bags and weapons, he was quickly within the city, his papers
being in perfect order. He ate dinner, as the noonday meal was then
called, and decided to seek General Beauregard at once, having
learned from an officer on the train that he was in the city. It was
said that he was at the residence of President Davis, called the
White House, after that other and more famous one at Washington, in
which the lank, awkward man, Abraham Lincoln, now lived.

But Harry paused frequently on the way, as there was nothing to
hurry him, and there was much to be seen. If Charleston had been
crowded, Richmond was more so. Like all capitals on the verge of a
great war, but as yet untouched by its destructive breath, it
throbbed with life. The streets swarmed with people, young officers
and soldiers in their uniforms, civilians of all kinds, and many
pretty girls in white or light dresses, often with flowers in their
hair or on their breasts. Light-heartedness and gaiety seemed
predominant.

Harry stopped a while to look at the ancient and noble state
house, now the home also of the Confederate Congress, standing in
Capitol Square, and the spire of the Bell Tower, on Shockoe Hill. He
saw important looking men coming in or going out of the square, but
he did not linger long, intending to see the sights another time.

He was informed at the "White House" that General Beauregard was
there, and sending in his card he was admitted promptly. Beauregard
was sitting with President Davis and Secretary Benjamin in a room
furnished plainly, and the general in his quick, nervous manner rose
and greeted him warmly.

"You did good service with us at Charleston," he said, "and we
welcome you here. We have already heard from your father, who was a
comrade in war of both President Davis and myself."

"He wrote us that you were coming across the mountains from
Frankfort," said Mr. Davis.

Harry thought that the President already looked worn and
anxious.

"Yes, sir," replied the boy, "I came chiefly by the river and
the Wilderness Road."

"Your father writes that they worked hard at Frankfort, but that
they failed to take Kentucky out," continued the head of the
Confederacy.

"The Southern leaders did their best, but they could not move
the state."

"And you wish, then, to serve at the front?" continued the
President.

"If I may," returned Harry. "In South Carolina I was with
Colonel Leonidas Talbot. I have had a letter from him here, and, if
it is your pleasure and that of General Beauregard, I shall be glad
to join his command."

General Beauregard laughed a little.

"You do well," he said. "I have known Colonel Talbot a long
time, and, although he may be slow in choosing he is bound to be in
the very thick of events when he does choose. Colonel Talbot is at
the front, and you'll probably find him closer than any other officer
to the Yankee army. We need everybody whom we can get, especially
lads of spirit and fire like you. You shall be a second lieutenant
in his command. A train will leave here in four hours. Be ready. It
will take you part of the way and you will march on for the rest."

Mr. Benjamin did not speak throughout the interview, but he
watched Harry closely. Neither did he speak when he left, but he
offered him a limp hand. The boy's view of Richmond was in truth
brief, as before night he saw its spires and roofs fading behind him.
The train was wholly military. There were four coaches filled with
officers and troops, and two more coaches behind them loaded with
ammunition.

Harry heard from some of the officers that the army was gathered
at a place called Manassas Junction, where Beauregard had taken
command on June 1st, and to which he would quickly return. But Harry
did not know any of these officers and he felt a little lonely. He
slept after a while in the car seat, awakened at times by the jolting
or stopping of the train, and arrived some time the next day in a
country of green hills and red clay roads, muddy from heavy rains.

They left the train, marched over the hills along one of the
muddy roads, and presently saw a vast array of tents, fires, and
earthworks, stretching to the horizon. Harry's heart leaped again.
This was the great army of the South. Here were regiments and
regiments, thousands and thousands of men and here he would find his
friends, Colonel Talbot and Major St. Hilaire, and St. Clair and
Langdon.

The whole scene was inspiring in the extreme to the heart of
youth. Far to the right he saw cavalry galloping back and forth, and
to the left he saw infantry drilling. From somewhere in front came
the strains of a regimental band playing:

"The hour was sad, I left the maid, A lingering
farewell taking, Her sighs and tears my steps delayed, I
thought her heart was breaking. In hurried words her name I
blessed, I breathed the vows that bind me And to my heart
in anguish pressed The girl I left behind me." It was a
favorite air of the Southern bands, and, much as it stirred Harry
now, he was destined to hear it again in moments far more thrilling.
He presented his order from General Beauregard to a sentinel, who
passed him to an officer, who in turn told him to go about a quarter
of a mile westward, where he would find the regiment of Colonel
Talbot quartered.

"It's a mixed regiment," he said, "made up of Virginians, South
Carolinians, North Carolinians, and a few Kentuckians and
Tennesseeans, but it's already one of the best in the service.
Colonel Talbot and his second in command, Lieutenant-Colonel St.
Hilaire, have been thrashing it into shape in great fashion. They're
mostly boys and already they call themselves 'The Invincibles.' You
can see the tents of their commanding officers over there by that
little creek."

Harry's eyes followed the pointing finger, and again his heart
leaped. His friends were there, the two colonels for whom he had such
a strong affection, and the two lads of his own age. Theirs looked
like a good camp, too. It was arranged neatly, and by its side
flowed the clear, cool waters of Young's Branch, a tributary of the
little Manassas River. He walked briskly, crossed the brook, stepping
from stone to stone, and entered the grounds of the Invincibles. A
tall youth rushed forward, seized his hand and shook it violently,
meanwhile uttering cries of welcome in an unbroken stream.

"By all the powers, it's our own Harry!" he exclaimed, "the new
Harry of the West, whom we were afraid we should never see again.
Everything is for the best, but we hardly hoped for this! How did
you get here, Harry? And you didn't bring Kentucky rushing to our
side, after all! Well, I knew it wasn't your fault, old horse! Ho,
St. Clair, come and see who's here!"

St. Clair, who had been lying in the grass behind a tent,
appeared and greeted Harry joyfully. But while Langdon was just the
same he had changed in appearance. He was thinner and graver, and
his intellectual face bore the stamp of rapid maturity.

"It's like greeting one of our very own, Harry," he said. "You
were with us in Charleston at the great beginning. We were afraid
you would have to stay in the west."

"The big things will begin here," said Harry.

"There can be no doubt of it. Do you know, Harry, that we are
less than thirty miles from Washington! If there were any hill high
enough around here we could see the white dome of the Capitol which
we hope to take before the summer is over. But we'll take you to the
Colonel and Major Hector St. Hilaire, that was, but
Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire that is."

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.