Stuart looked keenly at the wagon, called to the driver to halt, anddemanded whither he was going, and on what business. The old countrymansmiled. The question seemed to strike him as absurd, and his explanationwas simple and calculated to remove all suspicion. He stated that hisname was Brown--that he lived near the village; had brought in a load ofvegetables to sell, on the preceding evening--some friends had persuadedhim and "his old woman" to spend the night, and they were now goinghome.
Stuart peered under the coal-scuttle bonnet.
"And this is your 'old woman' my friend," he said with a laugh.
"Jest so, sir," was the wheezy reply of the fat old countryman, smilingsweetly. "You see she would come along, sir. Womankind is mightycontrary!"
"A profound sentiment!" laughed Stuart, and riding on without furtherwords, he left the countryman free to proceed on his way.
We crossed a little stream, rode on toward Fleetwood, and had nearlyreached Brandy when Stuart suddenly reined in his horse.
"Do you know what I think," he said, "that I have done a foolish thing?"
"What, general?"
"To let that old fellow go on. I don't like his looks."
"The old countryman?"
"Yes; I wish I had arrested him--him and his wife."
"Arrested them?"
Stuart nodded.
"I have an instinct about rascals, Surry; and something tells me that Ihave been guilty of an imprudence."
"Was not his explanation satisfactory?"
"No."
"What could be wrong?"
"Everything."
"And his 'old woman,'" I said, laughing; "think of that highlyrespectable dame."
"I like her least of all!"
"From instinct?"
"If you choose."
"I think your instinct misleads you this time, general."
"I think not."
"Well, we will see."
And we did see.
In two hours the head-quarters tents were pitched upon FleetwoodHill beyond Brandy, and Stuart sent his provost marshal to CulpeperCourt-House, with orders to conduct the prisoner taken by Mohun on thepreceding night, to General Lee, for examination.
An hour afterward the worthy provost returned in hot haste with theastounding information that the fair lady was nowhere to be found. Shehad disappeared from her chamber, none knew how, before daylight, and asa notoriously suspected individual who had lately been hanging roundthe tavern had disappeared too, it was probable that they had gone offtogether. Upon this point, a note left by the lady directed to "GeneralStuart" would probably give information. This had been found upon hertable. And the provost wound up by handing the note to Stuart.
He read it with an air of decided ill-humor. Then throwing it upon hisdesk, burst into a laugh.
"Well, Surry," he said, "who is right and who is wrong, now? Read that!"
And he pointed to the note, which I opened and read. It was in adelicate female hand, and ran as follows:--
"General Stuart will pardon the attempt his captive is about to make,to effect her escape. He made himself quite charming in their briefinterview, but liberty is sweet. Finding a friend unexpectedly in thisquarter of the world, I have made every arrangement with him; he is agreat master of disguises, and, though the travelling costume which Ishall adopt will make me look hideous, I hope it will enable me, beforesunrise, to pass a private ford, known to my friend alone, and reach theopposite bank of the Rappahannock.
"Farewell, my dear general. If all the rebels were like yourself,I might change my politics. I have but one other friend in yourarmy--Colonel Mohun, of the cavalry. Present my regards to him, and saythat _we will meet again_."
That was all. I raised my eyes from the paper, and looked at the generalwith stupefaction.
"Then that 'old woman' was the lady?"
"Precisely."
"And we are fooled?"
"Completely. They are by this time on the other side of theRappahannock."
With these words, Stuart dismissed the whole subject, turned to hisdesk, and in a moment was busy at his official writing.
VII.
THE BALL BEFORE THE BATTLE.
On the same evening I was riding with Stuart toward CulpeperCourt-House.
"Do you know where we are going, Surry?" he said, with a laugh.
"I can guess, I think."
"Try."
"To the ball given by the young officers to the Charlottesville bellestonight."
"You are wrong, old fellow. I don't dare to go there."
"Don't dare?"
"Well, that is the word," he replied; "I am not afraid of the Yankees,but I am of gossips--above all, of the valorous correspondents of thenewspapers."
"I begin to understand now."
"They are dangerous."
"Yes."
Stuart cantered on, playing with his glove as usual. "Think of Messieursthe bomb-proof critics!" he laughed. "They already say I reviewed thecavalry with a wreath of flowers around my horse's neck."
"Is it possible?"
"They say so everywhere; and I will tell you the foundation for thecharge. In passing through the Court-House on the morning of the review,a young lady friend of mine ran out from her house and threw a wreathover the neck of my horse. Well, I think it is something to be courteousin this world. I did not throw it off. I thanked her, rode on, and onlyremoved it when I got out of sight. Meeting General Lee, I told him ofit, laughing, and he said, with a smile: 'Why did you not wear it?'[1] Imight as well have done so, Surry, for you see I have the credit of it.Why try to be temperate, and pure, and soldierly? I am a drunkard, alibertine, and a popinjay! But I care nothing. I intend to do my duty,old fellow, and the next few days will probably show if I can fight."
[Footnote 1: Fact.]
With which words Stuart broke into a song, cantered on more rapidly,and passing without drawing rein through the Court-House, soon reachedGeneral Lee's head-quarters on an eminence beyond.
Here he remained for an hour, in private interview with thecommander-in-chief. Finally, they came out together. General Lee in hisplain uniform, with that sedate dignity of bearing which made the grayold cavalier so superb. I had the honor to receive his salute, and topress his hand, and then I set out with General Stuart for Fleetwood.
In passing through the Court-House we observed the windows of a largebuilding all ablaze with lights, and heard the merry notes of music.Stuart drew rein.
"I think I will drop in for a few minutes, in spite of every thing!" hesaid. "See the end of all my excellent resolutions, Surry!"
And rapidly dismounting, Stuart entered the ball-room. I followed.
If the review was imposing, the ball was charming. Youths and maidenshad assembled promptly at the sound of music, and, if I were a poet or apenny-a-liner, my dear reader, I would compose a fine description ofthe merry spectacle. But alas! I am neither; and feel unequal to the"ornate" style of writing. I am only a battered old _militaire_, witha number of great events to speak of. Look in the newspapers of thatperiod for an account of the assembly.
Let me say, however, in passing, that there was something sad as well asjoyful, gloomy as well as brilliant, in all that echoing laughter, andthe movements of these gay figures, on the eve of the bloody battle ofFleetwood. Girls were smiling upon youths who in twelve hours would bedead. Lips were shaping gallant compliments--soon they were going toutter the death-groan. All went merry as a marriage-bell, and theydanced to the joyous music. Soon the cannon would begin to roll, and theyouths would charge to that stormy music as they danced to this.
I was gazing at the lively assemblage--at the undulating forms movingto and fro, the gay uniforms, the fluttering scarfs, the snowy arms, therosy cheeks, when my attention was attracted by a figure which made melose sight of all else.
It was that of a young girl about twenty, tall, stately, and beautiful.Her dark hair was carried back in glossy waves, and ended in profusecurls. Her cheeks resembled blush roses; the eyes
were large, brilliant,and full of laughing hauteur; the lips red, and wreathed into a dazzlingsmile, which was the perfection of satirical mirth.
I grow extravagant; but this young girl was superb. There was somethingqueen like and imposing in her movements and whole appearance. Sheseemed to look down on the crowd with satirical disdain, and the gayyouths who surrounded her were every instant struck by the bright shaftsof a wit which spared nothing.
Who was this dangerous beauty, who received the attentions of the youngofficers with so much careless disdain? I asked that question of afriend and he replied:
"Miss Georgia Conway, a daughter of Judge William Conway."
"Ah," I said, "the statesman?--the successor of Randolph in bitteroratory?"
"Yes, and yonder he is."
I looked in the direction indicated, and saw an elderly gentleman ofsmall stature, with long gray hair, and lips full of benignant smiles.He wore a suit of black, and there was something courtly and attractivein every movement of the slender figure. His low bow and sweet smilewere the perfection of old-time courtesy.
I was still looking at this gentleman, whose fame had extendedthroughout Virginia and the whole South, when a familiar voice nearme, attracted my attention. It was that of Captain Davenant, the youngofficer of the horse artillery, and glancing in the direction of thevoice I saw him bending over a young lady who was seated and conversingwith him. She was a girl of seventeen, with blue eyes, auburn hair, anda complexion as fair as a lily. As Davenant addressed her in low tones,she gazed up into his face with an expression of confiding affection. Inthe eyes of the young officer I could read a profound and ardent love.
Turning to my friend I inquired the name of the young lady, in turn.
"Miss Virginia Conway," he replied, "the only sister of Miss Georgia."
He had scarcely uttered the words, when Davenant's interview with theyoung lady terminated in a very singular manner. Suddenly Judge Conwaypassed through the crowd, reached the spot where the young people wereconversing, and darting a glance of positive fury at the youth--a glancewhich made his eyes resemble coals of fire--offered his arm to hisdaughter, and abruptly bore her away.
Davenant's face flushed crimson, and his eyes darted flame. He took astep as though about to follow--but all at once he stopped.
Then from red his face became pale. The old expression of sadnessreturned to his lips. With head bent down, and a faint color stealingover his cheeks, he went toward the door, and passed though it, anddisappeared.
Before I had time to reflect upon this singular incident, I heard thevoice of Stuart.
"Come, Surry! to horse! unless you wish to remain!" he said.
"Ready, general!" I replied.
And in five minutes we were galloping toward Fleetwood.
"A gay ball," said Stuart, as we rode along; "but do you remember _myinstinct_, Surry?"
"Perfectly, general. Has it told you something on the present occasion?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"You have heard of the famous ball at Brussells, broken up by the gunsof Waterloo?"
"Certainly."
"Well, I think that this one will prove similar--that cannon are goingto thunder before the music stops."
Stuart had scarcely spoken when rapid hoof-strokes were heard in front,and a horseman shot by.
"Have you seen General Stuart?" said a voice in the darkness.
"Here I am--what news, Stringfellow?"
The horseman drew rein so suddenly that his horse was thrown upon hishaunches. "You will be attacked at daylight, general."
"Well,--what force?"
"The whole Yankee cavalry, with infantry and artillery supports."
"All right; ride back with me, and tell me every thing, Stringfellow."
In half an hour we were at head-quarters. Stuart dismounted and enteredhis tent.
"You see I was right, Surry," he said turning toward me, "and there issomething in my _instinct_ after all!"
VIII.
FLEETWOOD.
At daylight a long thunder came up from the woods of the Rappahannock.The greatest cavalry combat of the war had begun.
At that sound Stuart leaped to the saddle, and rode rapidly toward thefront. Fifteen minutes afterward his head-quarters had vanished. On thegreen slope of Fleetwood not a tent was visible.
Is the reader familiar with the country along the Upper Rappahannock? Ifso, he will remember that the river is crossed in Culpeper by numerousfords. The principal--beginning on the left, that is to say, up theriver--are Welford's, Beverly's, the Railroad bridge, and Kelly's fords.
Stuart's left, under William H.F. Lee, was opposite Welford's; hiscentre, under Jones, opposite Beverly's; his right, under Hampton,toward Kelly's; and a force under Robertson was posted in the directionof Stevensburg, to guard the right flank. The whole amounted to aboutseven or eight thousand cavalry.
The Federal column which now advanced to attack it, is said to haveembraced all the cavalry of General Hooker's army; and must havenumbered more than twelve thousand sabres.
Stuart rode on rapidly down Fleetwood Hill, and was soon oppositeBeverly's Ford where the enemy had crossed in force. General Jones washeavily engaged, and the Napoleons of the horse artillery were roaringsteadily. Every moment the round shot crashed, or the shell tore throughthe woods about three hundred yards in front of the pieces where thedismounted cavalry of the enemy had effected a lodgment. They kept up ahot fire at the cannoneers, and the steady rattle of carbines further upthe river told that Lee was also engaged.
In face of the bursting shell, the blue _tirailleurs_ could not advance;and Stuart sent an order to Hampton to move in and attack on the right.
The troopers of the Gulf States advanced at the word; their dense columnwas seen slowly moving, with drawn sabre, across the plain; the momentof decisive struggle seemed rapidly approaching, when suddenly a heavyblow was struck at Stuart's rear.
I had been directed by him to ascertain if "every thing had been sentoff from Fleetwood," and to see that no papers had been dropped there inthe hurry of departure. Going back at a gallop I soon reached the hill,and rode over the ground recently occupied by the head-quarters. Thespot seemed swept. Not a paper was visible. All that I could see was awithered bouquet dropped by some young officer of the staff--a relic, nodoubt, of the last night's ball at the village.
I had already turned to ride back to Stuart, when my attention wasattracted by a column of cavalry advancing straight on Brandy--that is,upon Stuart's rear. What force was that? Could it be the enemy? It wascoming from the direction of Stevensburg; but how could it have passedour force there?
"Look!" I said to an officer of the horse artillery, one battery ofwhich was left in reserve on the hill, "look! what column is that?"
"It must be Wickham's," was his reply.
"I am sure they are Yankees!"
"Impossible!" he exclaimed.
But our doubts were soon terminated. From the rapidly advancing columntwo guns shot out and unlimbered. Then two white puffs of smoke spoutedfrom their muzzles, and the enemy's shell burst directly in our faces.
The horse artillery returned the fire, and I hastened back with theintelligence to Stuart.
"It is only a squadron, I suppose," he replied with great coolness."Go back and get all the cavalry you can, and charge the guns and bagthem!"[1]
[Footnote: His words]
It is impossible to imagine any thing calmer than the speaker's voice.I knew, however, that the attack was more critical than he supposed;hastened back; came up with two regiments; and they ascended the hill atfull gallop, leaping the ravines, and darting toward the crest.
Suddenly it blazed with staggering volleys. The Federal cavalry hadrushed straight across the fields toward the hill--ascended its westernslope as we ascended the eastern, and met us--coming on, in squadronfront, they struck the Confederates advancing in column of fours, andin confusion from the rough ground--they recoiled--were thrown intodisorder; and with lo
ud cheers the enemy swarmed all over FleetwoodHill.
The battle seemed lost. Stuart was cut off, and hemmed in between twopowerful bodies of Federal cavalry, supported by infantry and artillery.
All that saved us at that moment, was the "do or die" fighting of thecavalry and horse artillery.
On the crest of Fleetwood took place a bitter and obstinate struggle.It was one of those fights of the giants, which once witnessed is neverforgotten. The cannoneers of the horse artillery fought as savagely,hand to hand, as the regular cavalry; and the crest became the scene ofa mad wrestle, rather of wild beasts than men.
All at once the form of Davenant appeared amid the smoke. He had comerapidly from the front, and now threw himself into the combat likethe bloodhound to which Stuart had compared him. His sad smile haddisappeared; his cheeks were flushed; his eyes fiery;--leaping fromhis horse, he seized the sponge-staff of a gun, from which all thecannoneers had been driven, and ramming home a charge of canister,directed the gun upon a column of the enemy.
Before he could fire, a Federal cavalryman rode at him, and cutfuriously at his bare head, with the full weight of his sabre.
Davenant did not try to draw his sword--the attempt would have beenuseless. In his hand he had a weapon; and with a swing of the rammer heswept the cavalryman from the saddle.[1] He fell headlong, covered withblood; and Davenant aimed and fired the charge of canister--leaped uponhis horse--and drawing his sword, plunged into the melee, his head bare,his eyes flaming, his voice rising loud and inspiring, above the combat.
Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins. Page 3
