He reined in and dismounted. Jonah whinnied thanks for the respite, and Zack loosened the saddle girth. He sat down by the roadside, weary but not sleepy, and gazed at the stars above him. When he judged that they had moved an hour on their course through the sky, he tightened the cinch and rode on. It was well past midnight by now. Before morning he would surely find Colonel Locke and deliver Rutherford’s message.
Another hour went by, and another, while he kept to the road. Had he moved too swiftly, after all? Had he better turn back? If—
“Halt!” rang a stern challenge in front of him. “Stand where you are, and name yourself.”
Zack checked Jonah. “Friend of liberty,” he said.
“How may I be sure of that? How many of you are there?”
“I’m alone, riding with a message.”
“Get off that horse and come forward so that we may look at you.”
Zack jumped down and led Jonah along the road. From either side a man with a rifle closed in.
“At least you come from eastward, where our friends are thick,” said one.
“But he might be a spy, hastening toward that snake nest of Tories,” said the other. “Call the corporal.”
A corporal came, and Zack followed him through the trees into a hollow, where fires burned like a constellation of rosy stars come to earth. An officer in a blue-faced hunting shirt and cocked hat questioned Zack, then told the corporal to take charge of Jonah and Zack’s rifle.
“Come with me,” the officer told Zack, and led him into the camp. Moments later, Zack stood at a fireside, beyond which sat a slim, neat man in a blue military coat, with his dark hair tied in a queue.
“This fellow claims to have a dispatch for you, Colonel Locke,” said the officer.
The slim man held out his hand, and Zack gave him Rutherford’s note. Bending close to the fire, Colonel Locke read it.
“This is genuine,” he said. “I’d know Old Griff’s scrawl among all the scrawls ever scrawled.” He glanced up. “What is your name, young man?”
“Zack Harper, sir.”
“Ha, is it so? Then you’re the same bold fellow who scouted Moore at Ramsour’s Mill. We’ve heard of you by express from those parts, and you shall guide us there tomorrow.”
“Sir, General Rutherford looks for you to join him at Tuckaseege Ford,” Zack made bold to say.
“But Tuckaseege is many miles away,” said Locke. “It would be two full days’ march for my infantry. And I have sent him a messenger to say that we are moving on Ramsour’s Mill. I’ll engage that he will move at once to follow us, and perhaps we’ll all be together for the attack. Now, Captain, see that this young rider is given refreshment and a place to sleep.”
At another fireside Zack was served a most welcome bowl of hot soup, and he slept near the tree where Jonah was tethered. In the morning he wakened, to be told that Colonel Locke desired his presence at a council.
Four other officers were there. Locke nodded gravely to Zack and introduced him to the others. At Locke’s bidding, Zack described the strength and disposition of the garrison near Ramsour’s Mill, and told something of the nature of the surrounding country.
He finished, and there was a heavy, thoughtful silence. At last Locke spoke. “How many do we number here, Captain Brandon?” he asked. “And of those, how many are mounted?”
“I make it four hundred of us in all, Colonel,” replied Brandon. “We have three companies of horse. Sixty ride in my company, forty in Captain Falls’ company, and but twenty-five with Major McDowell from the western settlements.”
“A hundred and twenty-five cavalry,” summed up Locke. “The rest of us march on foot. Now, Harper, how far do we sit from Ramsour’s Mill?”
“I would call it some sixteen miles, sir,” answered Zack.
“And they’ll know of us ere many hours pass,” said another officer. “They’ll come after us. Even with the recruits we’ve found on our way here, the Tories are thrice our number.”
“Had we not better fall back, Colonel?” asked yet another. “If we go to Tuckaseege Ford and join General Rutherford, the numbers will be more even.”
But Locke’s lean face had set itself stubbornly, and he shook his head.
“Take thought, gentlemen. A retrograde movement will dishearten our men, and at the same time embolden those Tories. They would follow us on, and strike us even as we fall back.”
“Aye,” agreed a wiry captain who sat with a sword across his knees. “Remember, too, that we have gathered a number of friends to us from this side of the Catawba. If we retreat, their homes will be left defenseless to Moore’s plundering. For my part, I say continue to march on them.”
“Boldly said, Falls,” cried his neighbor. “My lads are from the west, and cannot get home save by fighting their way past Moore. If others are fainthearted, my own company is ready to take the forefront of the approach.”
“Do you call me fainthearted, Major McDowell?” demanded the officer who had wanted to turn back and join Rutherford. “I but offered a prudent action. But if others are for advance, I’ll never hang back at the rear.”
“Suppose we vote, gentlemen,” suggested Locke. “All who are for marching on Ramsour’s Mill, say aye.”
“Aye!” cried Major McDowell, and, “Aye!” echoed Falls.
“Aye! Aye!” chimed in the others.
“And those who wish to retreat?” prompted Locke, glancing around, but nobody spoke.
“Then we’ll move,” said Locke. “Not at once, for we marched most of last night, and those who had only feet to carry them are weary. Too, we can best approach them by darkness. Major McDowell, since your men have been both sides of that mill where the Tories wait, suppose you scout in that direction. Keep from being seen, and send back news of any move of the enemy in the country. Captain Falls, cover the road to eastward, and let nobody through who might carry warning to Moore.”
McDowell and Falls were up in an instant and tramped away. Zack heard them shouting commands for their men to saddle and mount. Locke spoke again.
“Harper, we’ve heard talk of a map you and your friends made of Ramsour’s Mill. Make one for us, here in the dirt.”
“If I can, Colonel,” agreed Zack.
Kneeling, he used the point of his knife to mark roads, streams, and fields. He put down pebbles to mark the location of the mill, the tavern, and Reinhardt’s home, and sprinkled pine needles to show where woods grew. Locke and the others clustered around to watch and to hear his explanations.
“And this,” Zack concluded, drawing a long line with his knife, “is, I am sure, the road where your men now camp. I have not traveled along it beyond the fork that goes down to Tuckaseege.”
“Then let me complete the map.” Locke knelt beside Zack, and pointed with his lean forefinger. “See, gentlemen, this road joins the one to Tuckaseege, just to our side of the path that Harper took to approach the mill from below. Right, Harper?”
“Yes, sir, and at that point the mill is a mile to westward.”
“Then between the path’s head and the mill we can look for a swarm of Tory pickets,” offered one of the others.
“We must not let them learn of us,” said Locke firmly. “Gentlemen, a surprise attack is our chief hope. We’ll land the first blow—aye, and the second, third, and fourth.”
He dismissed his other officers, with directions to see to the arms and equipment of the infantry. Zack turned to depart, but Locke called for him to remain.
“You’re young, but you’ve shown yourself bold and prudent,” said Locke. “I need your help, and I’ll confide in you.”
“Whatever you say, Colonel.”
“By now, perhaps, Old Griff Rutherford knows I’m moving against Moore. It’s my strong hope that Old Griff is moving himself. If he arrives close behind me as I open the battle, Moore’s men will have more grist than that mill of theirs can grind. Now tell me, how about this path you followed from the main road and so around? Will it bear
mounted troops?”
“I rode on it,” said Zack, “but I was alone. I don’t think that it is wide or hard enough to fetch many horses through, what with the swamp an either side.”
“I see. Then I must send my cavalry straight against Moore from the west, while my infantry takes that path of yours and circles to strike Moore’s flank.” Locke was silent a moment, scowling. “I know that we are not trained regulars,” he said then. “All I can do is make a plan, acquaint my officers, and leave the fighting to them.”
He let Zack go, and Zack strolled through the camp. Suddenly he heard shouts and hails of greeting.
“Zack Harper! We’re here to march with you—McKissick’s South Fork company!”
“Zack! Come this way!”
A compact body of riflemen had just appeared at the edge of the road. Zack recognized faces in the foremost ranks. There was Captain Daniel McKissick, and there were Will Caldwell and Enoch Gilmer, grinning happily at Zack, with sprigs of laurel blossoms in their hats. Beside Captain McKissick stood the square-built form of Adam Reep.
Zack hurried to shake hands. “How came you here?” he asked.
“When I brought the news to Captain McKissick, he made me stay until he had assembled all his company,” said Reep. “Then I guided them northward, and here we are.” “If you knew we were on this road, Moore will know the same thing,” offered Zack unhappily.
“I think not,” said Reep. “I told these lads that Locke was north and east of them, with a strong force and a bold heart. We marched to meet him, and he met us halfway, that is all. Now, what’s the word? Is it fight or run?” McKissick had hurried off to report to Colonel Locke. Zack moved from one friend to another, greeting them. There were fully forty, a heartening reinforcement, and several gave him news of his parents. Zack himself answered questions on all hands, but forebore to say anything of Locke’s battle plan.
“Since you’re here, you must march and fight with us,” vowed Enoch Gilmer. “Here, take half my laurel to wear, that’s our uniform instead of that Tory pine sprig. I see you still carry the rifle we stole from Moore’s arsenal. I carry its mate. Tory bullets for Tory targets, eh?”
Back came McKissick, and ordered his men to sit down and rest. “There’s another march ahead of us tonight,” he informed them, “and no sleep then, as I think. Tomorrow there will be battle.”
The men cheered at that.
“I trust you find somewhat to cheer about when the battle’s over,” said their captain gruffly.
The rest of the day saw the various companies resting as they could, and Locke held several conferences with his officers. At sunset he formed for the advance. The three mounted units, under McDowell, Falls, and Brandon, led the way, with the infantry marching in column behind them. Locke himself, with Zack at one side and Major McDowell at the other, was at the very front.
Yet again there was a journey in the darkness, this time with the mettlesome Jonah held to a slow walk. Again and again Locke passed word back for a halt, to allow the infantry to catch up, while picked riders went ahead to reconnoiter. At midnight, Locke halted the whole command and fetched his officers together for a new conference.
“We draw near,” Locke began, “and so far there is no hint that they dream of our presence. Here, then, is what I propose.”
He explained the plan of dividing his cavalry and infantry. The mounted companies would go straight forward on the main road, while the infantry moved to the left. All troops would seek to come into position before dawn. Zack he ordered to show the cavalry the way, and to halt them at the point where the infantry would leave the road. There, said Locke, the cavalry would wait for the first hint of coming dawn before advancing, which would give the infantry time to come toward the mill from the southward.
“And now,” finished Locke, “let every captain take sheets of paper, tear them into pieces, and order each of his men to fasten a piece to his hat. That is how we can recognize our friends in the dark, and afterward in battle. Remember, the Tories wear pine needles. Has any of you a question? Then forward we go once more. Harper, when you have found the point where we separate, leave the cavalry and come to guide the infantry.”
The advance was resumed. Zack rode some twenty paces ahead of McDowell’s foremost men, and neither saw nor heard horse or man on the road ahead of him. At last he led the column past the fork of the road that marked the joining of the way to Tuckaseege Ford, and beyond there he reined Jonah in and turned him sideways to halt the others.
Swiftly McDowell ordered men to dismount and take positions among the trees to both sides, ready for defense. Then he himself moved stealthily ahead. He came back to say that there seemed to be a group of riflemen some distance to westward, sitting around a fire and talking.
“A careless guard, as I live,” he said scornfully.
“We may be sure we’re not suspected,” added Locke, joining them. “Major McDowell, hold yourself ready to advance in the first light. Sweep out of your way any opposition and ride for the mill. We others, on foot, will be ready to come up from below as soon as we hear you open the fight.” He and McDowell shook hands. “Come lead us, Harper.”
The journey along the path through the swampy woods was necessarily slow and difficult. Zack, Locke, and others on horseback were forced to get down and lead their horses. Again and again some of the infantry strayed in the dark and mired themselves in slimy mud to one side or other of the trail. But at last Zack brought them out near Dellinger’s Tavern. Officers entered the building, to make sure that no alarm went from there to Moore’s camp, and Locke called half a dozen companies to march along the side road to the foot of the slope beyond.
There they halted yet again in the dark. McKissick’s company was part of the advance, and he sent Enoch Gilmer and Will Caldwell sneaking uphill to look for the enemy. They returned to say that a large number of men were camped along the main road above, with sleepy sentries on duty.
“How far does the slope extend?” asked Locke.
“Two hundred yards, as I judge,” said Enoch.
“Then we will advance half that far. Gentlemen, form your companies in line of battle a hundred yards hence. Pll go to arrange a second line to support you. Hold your fire till the cavalry strikes.”
“What orders for me, Colonel?” asked Zack.
“No orders, Harper. The time’s at hand for fighting, and all I can bid you do is shoot your straightest and stand your boldest.”
Zack tied Jonah behind the tavern. Then he hurried back and followed the troops up the hill. He found McKissick’s company at the right of the line, each man with rifle poised.
“Fall in here, Zack,” said Enoch Gilmer, and Zack took his stand beside his friend. He cocked his rifle and primed the pan as best he could in the dark. There was silent waiting.
Then at last, from the road above, a hubbub of wild yells and a spatter of shots.
“Our cavalry’s driving in their pickets!” cried Zack.
“Stand to your arms, men!” thundered McKissick.
The sun came up.
17 The Fight at the Mill
The first light of morning showed men at the top of the slope, less than a hundred yards away. Zack saw them, half hidden in grass and bushes. Even as rifles cocked all along the line where he stood, a cloud of gray smoke burst out to hide those men above them. Shots rattled as though a giant were popping corn.
“Give it to them!” he heard McKissick yell, and Enoch and his other comrades whipped their rifles to their shoulders and fired a deafening volley. He smelled the burning powder, and smoke hid his view of the slope. More shots from above. Someone near at hand gave a grunt and slammed down on his face. Another man spun around and sprawled uncouthly on the ground.
“Back, back and load again!” That was McKissick. Zack’s friends were retreating, but kept their line.
Zack had not come so far to retreat. He had not fired his rifle, and now he flung himself flat, between two motionless forms. He lay
half-hidden in some sweet-smelling green grass. Stealthily he peered upward. The Tories were standing up, cheering and yelling exultantly above him.
Behind Zack more voices rang out. His comrades had halted at the foot of the slope. A rifle cracked, a bullet hummed through the warm morning air above him. He kept himself from flinching. He hoped the Tories would think he had fallen to their volley, and so would refrain from shooting at him. He stole another look up the slope. He was looking for Robinson Alspaye.
Sturdily the enemy was advancing, into the open at the top of the incline. He could not see Alspaye, but an officer moved in advance of his men, flourishing a sword. Then a crash of gunfire sounded from the lower ground behind Zack, and there were wild war whoops as his friends returned the volley.
Even as the shots rang out, Zack gave himself new orders. Not far to his right were the tumbled logs that had been felled and dragged aside to clear the slope, and he sprang up suddenly and made for that shelter.
Instantly the Tories yelled at him, and bullets buzzed around him like wasps. But the men at the foot of the slope were countercharging, with chorused shouts of their own, and the fire of the defense turned on Moore’s men in an effort to check them. Zack reached the logs, vaulted over, and knelt behind them, peering through a triangular opening between two stems.
He saw a string of motionless bodies lying where they had fallen under the Tory fire, and up to that line so bleakly marked, the counterattack was advancing. Behind it pressed another rank of men. As the first line stopped at its earlier position, the second joined it and strengthened it, and fired uphill with deadly aim. More of Locke’s men dropped, but the others stood fast, reloading to fire again.
Zack waited no longer. Alspaye was the man he wanted to find, Robinson Alspaye with whom he had fought long ago at Mr. Blythe’s school, who had captured him, who had boasted of his determination to lay waste the South Fork country and woo and win Grace Prothero. Zack headed uphill under the cover of the trees, over ground he had explored in his adventure four days earlier. Once at the top of the hill, he’d make his way around the flank of the Tory line. Alspaye must be somewhere, and when Alspaye was found . . .
Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1961 Page 13
