by Burke Davis
During all the anxious hours of the chase there was scarcely a word of the Rebel column. A new network of signal stations lay over the region, but morning fog still hid Stuart's horsemen.
George McClellan's trap was complete, and he could only wait. Men in remote telegraph offices waited at their keys, men in far signal towers stared over the foggy hill country, cavalrymen pounded on wet roads, and in two towns, Hancock to the west and Poolesville to the east, with steam up and black engine smoke trailing, two bluecoat infantry divisions waited in profane impatience in their railway cars, ready to hurtle down the tracks after Stuart.
From General George Stoneman came reassurance for the Federal high command. In the eastern sector, near the junction of the Monocacy and the Potomac, Stoneman had eight regiments and strong artillery batteries.
Surely there was no hole in the net through which Stuart and his 1,800 men could slip.
Only one Federal party got so much as a glimpse of the raiders on Saturday evening. In Jeb's path was Colonel Richard Rush, commander of one of the most spectacular of Federal units, the 6th Pennsylvania Cavalry. These were the Philadelphia Lancers who had such woeful luck against Stuart in The Seven Days—their lances now discarded.
Rush was stationed in Frederick with a force large enough to stun the raiders; in addition to the Lancers he had the ist Maine, a battalion of Maryland troopers, two infantry regiments and a battery of New York artillery. At eight A.M. of October eleventh he sent four Lancer companies, about 140 men, north toward Emmits-burg and Gettysburg.
Like other Federal cavalry in this season, the Lancers were in poor condition, with many horses unshod and going lame; there had been no remounts since the summer fighting on The Peninsula below Richmond. But the four companies sent out by Rush galloped ahead with the confidence of a division. For eight hours they had no sign of the Confederates.
Stuart's column was five miles long as it re-entered Maryland. Troopers of the foraging division rode with two or three captured horses on each lead rein. There were frequent changes of mounts, but the column moved swiftly, and gave Rush's scouting party no hint of its presence until four P.M., when the Rebel vanguard charged into Emmitsburg, threw out pickets and closed the roads. These men chased off the last of Rush's scouts; the main body of the Federal vanguard had passed through an hour earlier.
Colonel Rush had given orders to send back couriers to him with news, but though his men made an effort, they could tell him nothing. Every courier sent toward Emmitsburg in the late afternoon and evening was caught or turned back by the watchful Confederates; the way remained blocked until after midnight. Rush was temporarily foiled.8
In the last hours of daylight Stuart's caravan rode in growing weariness. Blackford ranged far in front with three horsemen, using his strong binoculars to report signs of danger to Stuart. The general rode near the center and kept couriers pounding back and forth. There were strict orders against use of firearms. If an enemy party appeared, it must be sabers.
It was almost sundown when the bulk of the column reached Emmitsburg, to a warm welcome. Food was brought from the houses by townspeople who were as astonished, Blackford said, "as if we had fallen from the clouds." The grateful troopers ate in their saddles, but Stuart gave them little time; he pushed the column south in the twilight.
The advance platoon was now led by Captain F. W. Southall and John Pelham. Stuart trotted with them for a mile or so, giving orders.
"Keep this pace," he said. "Slow the gait for nothing, and ride over anything that gets in the way."
Within a few minutes there was confusion in front. Southall had caught a Federal courier, a frightened boy from the headquarters of Rush in Frederick. Stuart was soon reading his dispatches, and what he saw sent him to his map. He consulted with guides.
The Federals in Frederick were so strong that the town must be avoided. Worse still, General Alfred Pleasanton, with a big cavalry force, was heading for the village of Mechanicstown, which was just four miles west of Stuart's present position. Jeb must change his route. An all-night ride was now a pressing necessity. They were six miles south of Emmitsburg, at the village of Rocky Ridge, still some forty miles from the river. Pleasanton had the shorter route to the Potomac.
To emphasize the danger, the column drove off a Union scouting party in the darkness—probably one sent by Pleasanton. Stuart turned the horsemen eastward on a road leading through the settlement of Woodsboro, some eight miles away. Captain White advised that this was the most likely road to safety.
The vanguard stumbled upon an enemy in the dark—a lone Federal in a buggy, a gentleman wearing a fine suit of oilcloth against the rain. He drove into the column.
"Move aside, men," he said, "move aside."
When troopers barred his path he shouted, "I'm an officer of the 79th Pennsylvania on recruiting service, and I must get on."
The grinning men closed in around him.
Stuart appeared. The Federal yelled at Jeb, "Are you the officer in command?"
‘I am.
"Then be good enough to order your men to make way. I'm a Pennsylvania officer on recruiting duty, and it is important for me to get ahead."
"Very well," Stuart said; he muttered an order to a nearby trooper.
The soldier dismounted and climbed into the Federal's buggy.
"What do you mean, sir?" the bluecoat spluttered,
"Nothing."
"Who are you?"
"Nobody."
"Who is that officer?"
"General Stuart."
"What General Stuart?"
"Jeb Stuart, Major General of Cavalry, Confederate States of America."
The Federal whistled. "By God, I'm procured!" he said.
"I rather think you are," the trooper said, and turned the buggy, trailing his horse behind as he rode with the new prisoner. The gray column hurried southward.9
Behind them, Colonel Rush made another effort to spring the trap. At seven P.M. he had a report on Rebels in Emmitsburg, and, aware that Pleasanton would cover the main roads, Rush sent two cavalry companies east of Stuart; one went to Woodsboro, the other to the tiny village of Johnsboro. They were to report frequently.
These Lancers rode into Woodsboro at ten thirty and immediately fell back, except for one man. The head of Stuart's column was passing through the village, and only Corporal John Anders of the Federals remained to watch. The brave Anders went into the town in disguise and talked with Confederates until he was suspected, seized as a spy and passed along for questioning. He escaped in the confusion and darkness.
In Stuart's column it seemed "a long, terrible" night march. The jingle and clatter of spurs, arms, stirrups and hoofs became a drowsy hum, Blackford remembered, and to escape sleep men dismounted and walked for short distances. Even so, many fell asleep in the saddles and their snores could be heard above other sounds.
They now rode on a line to the east of Frederick, generally southward toward the Potomac. Scouts brought in fragments of news: Federals were closing in. The way went southeast out of Woodsboro to Liberty, then more directly south through remote villages, New London and New Market. In the latter place a crew cut telegraph wires and placed obstructions on the Baltimore & Ohio tracks. Most of the riders hurried on; the river was more than fifteen miles away, and it was nearing midnight.
There was a dim moon.
Just after midnight Stuart left the column on an incredible mission. With the enemy almost literally snapping at his heels, Jeb proposed a diversion.
"Blackford," he said, "how would you like to see The New York Rebel tonight?" He laughed.
The captain needed no reminder. Stuart and Blackford had both become attached to the young woman in their brief stay at Urbana in the Sharpsburg campaign. Urbana was now just six miles out of the way, and a slight detour from the route of the column would take them to the friendly Cockey house.
Stuart seemed unconcerned for his safety or that of the expedition. "Come on," he said to Blackford, and
they were off in the moonlight.
With them rode a handful of officers and a detail of about ten men from the ist North Carolina, under Captain Rufus Barringer, to guard the party. The back roads were familiar to them from the recent invasion, and the riders soon arrived before the Cockey home in Urbana. A knock on the door brought a sleepy call in a woman's voice from an upper window: "Who's there?"
Stuart laughed. "General Stuart and his staff."
A head thrust from a bedroom window and riders heard squeals and rushing about within the house. Another woman's head bobbed out a window, adorned with curl papers. "Who did you say it was?" she asked, in tones of disbelief.
"General Stuart and staff!" Jeb repeated. "Come down and open the door."
The window banged, and a flurry of dressing followed. Slippers and bare feet drummed on a stairway, and soon the yard filled with young women, laughing and talking with their unexpected guests. Stuart allowed himself but half an hour, and they were on the road again. If Jeb got information from his New York Rebel, as he frequently did from women behind enemy lines, it did not creep into official reports. War seemed far away as the party rode in the dark morning to the tinkle of Sweeney's banjo and the clacking of Bob's bones.
The wayward band went hard after the column, and rejoined it at daylight of October twelfth in Hyattstown, Maryland. It was a pleasant Sunday morning, but safety was twelve miles away and Stuart kept the pace fast. The peak of Sugar Loaf Mountain was in sight; the Federals surely had a signal post there. South of Hyattstown the column clattered through the village of Barnesville, a few minutes after the troopers of the dashing Federal Colonel Alfred Duffie had cleared it. Stuart read this as a final sign of danger in their path. The enemy was steadily narrowing the segment of the river open to him.
Not only was General Pleasanton just to the west of them, where the Monocacy emptied into the Potomac—General Stone-man's force was to the east, guarding against a crossing near Lees-burg, Virginia. The area must be thick with bluecoat hunters.
Stuart consulted with the guide, Captain White, who was now in the place of his boyhood and knew every trail. There was an abandoned farm road ahead, White said. It would be easy to turn into it from the well-used road leading south to Poolesville, and perhaps the column could then dash between the two large bodies of Federal troops and reach the river.
Stuart moved the riders into plain sight of the Sugar Loaf Mountain signal post to give the enemy the impression he was moving on Poolesville, but when he was hidden from the sentinels by a woodland he found the old road of Captain White's boyhood memory. The vanguard removed rail fences and the column entered a weed-grown cart track through the woods.
For more than a mile and a half White led them across country until, at about eight A.M., the advance trotted into the east-west road between Poolesville and the mouth of the Monocacy—a road roughly parallel to the winding Potomac, which was now just below them. As they came into the road they saw Federal riders, fast approaching.
Alfred Pleasanton, like every other Federal general in Maryland, had spent a hectic two days, darting this way and that in pursuit of Stuart, until his troops and horses were worn. As he wrote: "My force had marched, in twenty-four hours . . . upwards of 78 miles, and had crossed the Blue Ridge over a very rugged, rough and rocky road, which crippled up a great many of my horses."
After many false alarms he had word, just after midnight of this Sunday, that Stuart had passed near Mechanicstown and was headed for Woodsboro. Pleasanton struck for the Monocacy River to head him off. He got through Frederick by five A.M. and near eight o'clock to the Monocacy's mouth.
The general crossed the river, halted to pick up parts of his straggling command, and with a battery of artillery lumbering behind horses nearing the limit of their endurance, went toward Poolesville.
Within a mile and a half he met Stuart.
His account of the meeting was almost petulant: "My advance squadron . . . discovered a body of cavalry moving toward them, dressed in the uniform of U.S. soldiers. The officer in command of the squadron made signal in a friendly way, which was returned, and the parties approached within a short distance of each other, when the commander of the opposite party ordered his men to charge. They were received by the carbines of my men, and some skirmishing took place which forced my men to retire."
Stuart was in the very front of his column, surrounded by men who still wore the blue coats seized in Chambersburg. He saw the Federal leader hesitate as the Confederate riders began to reach for their sabers.
"Wait," Stuart said. The horses trotted nervously a few more paces toward the enemy as Jeb held back the riders, and broke into a gallop as he shouted, "Charge!"
The Federal advance fired one quick volley and ran. The only
Confederate casualty was a wounded horse. Stuart led the chase westward for almost a mile until his men climbed a ridge to look down across the Little Monocacy at the enemy. The river was a welcome sight, for its shielding ridge ran two miles southward to the Potomac, and would screen the last leg of the retreat.
Rooney Lee's men came up and tumbled from their horses. Their rifles blazed for a few moments before Pelham's guns joined the chorus. Federals began digging in on the opposite side of the stream. Stuart sent the main column over a farm road to approach White's Ford on the Potomac, with Rooney Lee in command. The advance must be cautious, for the rim of a rock quarry overlooked the ford, and if Federals were there in force crossing might be impossible. Lee rode off. Stuart and Pelham, with a small rearguard, remained behind to hold off Pleasanton.
Lee pushed within sight of the river and read danger at first glance. Federals were on the bluff of the quarry, probably riflemen who could riddle a column attempting to cross. He sent a courier to summon Stuart to the river; Jeb replied that Lee must solve the problem himself, for danger in the rear was growing.
Lee talked with his officers. The best plan, they agreed, was to attack the quarry in front and flank, while part of the column dashed for the river. If some riders got across with a piece of artillery, the gun could open upon the Federals from the Virginia side of the river. The riders formed for attack, but Lee held them up and attempted a bit of bravado. He scratched out a note to the commander of the strongly posted enemy force, demanding surrender. General Stuart, he wrote, was at hand with an overwhelming force. Resistance was useless. If he had not surrendered within fifteen minutes, Lee would charge him.
There was an anxious wait, during which men forgot to study the rising Potomac, or to look to safety on the southern bank. The Federals gave no sign of their intentions. There was no white flag, but when Lee ordered two guns to fire on the quarry, and the men went forward, the enemy began to retreat.
Confederates yelped with delight at the unexpected scene: With flags flying and drums beating the bluecoat infantry fell back in good order downriver, giving up the ford without a struggle. Lee sent a gun over the ford and into position on the Virginia shore. A second gun was soon in place on the Maryland side, and as other Federal parties approached the bridgehead over the rough terrain, the cannon blazed sporadically.
The cavalrymen and captured horses now struggled across. The horses, gaunt and heaving after their long ride without water or food, fought savagely to drink as they crossed, but there was soon an orderly procession in the ford, including the Pennsylvania hostages being borne to Confederate soil.
As Lee waited at the riverside, Pelham fell back along the ridge in the rear, his guns holding Pleasanton at bay. Stuart at last came down from his position with the rear guard, leaving Colonel Butler behind with orders to follow.
A Marylander who watched the Confederates at the crossing kept an observant eye on Stuart. Jeb, he reported, said "in a sarcastic manner" that he had fooled the whole Federal army, but regretted that he had been unable to sack Frederick, burn its depot and a nearby bridge of the Monocacy. "But," Stuart said, "all things considered, I have carried out my program with success."
The vis
itor thought Stuart's men and horses "looked extremely exhausted, but the former were in high glee." Jeb sent his compliments to old army friends stationed with the Federals at Frederick.30
Stuart kept Blackford busy with errands at the river crossing. He sent the captain into the water to help keep the captured horses moving. When Blackford returned, he found Jeb in distress. The commander's eyes were filled with tears, and there was a catch in his voice.
"Blackford, we're going to lose our rear guard." "Why, General? How's that?"
"Why, I've sent four couriers back to Butler, and he's not here yet. And look! There's the enemy closing behind us."
Federals appeared in growing numbers on the hillsides. "Let me try it," Blackford said.
Stuart studied him. "All right. If we don't meet again, goodbye, old fellqw," he said dramatically. Blackford spurred from sight.
The captain passed the couriers who had been sent for Butler and galloped to the Poolesville road, where there was furious firing.
Captain W. H. H. Cowles, who had the ist North Carolina in the rearmost position, had just reported to Butler that Federals had caught up with him on the roadway. Butler made a characteristic reply, boldly forming his little regiment in line of battle, and turning his single gun on the enemy.
Blackford reached the scene of this defiant stand and found Butler ignorant of danger at the river, but determined to lose nothing despite his desperate plight.
"General Stuart says withdraw at a gallop or you will be cut off," Blackford said.
"But I don't think I can pull off that gun," Butler said. "The horses can't move it."
"Leave the gun and save your men," Blackford said.
"We'll see what we can do," Butler said. His troopers whipped the weary horses, and at last the wheels lurched from the mud and took the gun to safety. Butler's little command fell back under fire through Federal forces storming the ridge on both sides, and was received with shouts at the river crossing.
