XXXI. — THE REPORT.
It was twilight and the fighting was over.
The two tigers had drawn back, and, crouching down, panted heavily,—resting and gathering new strength for the fiercer conflict of the next day.
From the thickets rose the stifled hum of the two hosts. Only a few shots were heard, now and then, from the skirmishers, and these resembled the last drops of a storm which had spent its fury.
I had been sent by General Stuart with an order to General Hampton, who commanded the cavalry on Hill’s right.
Hampton was sitting his horse in a field extending, at this point, between us and the enemy; and, if it were necessary, I would draw his outline. It is not necessary, however; every one is familiar with the figure of this great and faithful soldier, in his old gray coat, plain arms and equipments, on his large and powerful war-horse,—man and horse ready for battle. In the war I saw many great figures,—Hampton’s was one of the noblest.
Having delivered my message to General Hampton, who received it with his air of grave, yet cordial courtesy, I turned to shake hands with Captain Church—a thorough-bred young officer, as brave as steel, and one of my best friends—when an exclamation from the staff attracted my attention, and looking round, I saw the cause.
At the opposite extremity of the extensive field, a solitary horseman was seen darting out of the woods occupied by the Federal infantry, and this man was obviously a deserter, making his way into our lines.
At a sign from General Hampton, Captain Church went to meet him, and as my horse was fresh, I accompanied my friend in his ride.
The deserter came on at full speed to meet us, and for a moment, his horse skimmed the dusky expanse like a black-winged bird.{1} Then, all at once, his speed moderated; he approached at a jog-trot, and through the gathering gloom I recognised, above the blue uniform, the sweetly smiling countenance of Nighthawk!
{Footnote 1: This scene is real.}
“Good evening, colonel,” said Nighthawk; “I am glad to see you again, and hope you are well.”
“So you have turned deserter, Nighthawk?” I said, laughing heartily.
“Precisely, colonel. I could not get off before. Will you inform me where I can find General Stuart?”
“I will take you to him.”
And riding back with Captain Church and Nighthawk, I soon found myself again in presence of General Hampton.
A word from me explained the real character of the pseudo-deserter. General Hampton asked a number of questions, Nighthawk replied to them, and then the latter begged me to conduct him to General Stuart. I did so without delay, and we soon reached Stuart’s bivouac, where he was talking with his staff by a camp-fire.
At sight of the blue figure he scarcely turned; then suddenly he recognized Nighthawk, and burst into laughter.
“Well, my blue night-bird!” he exclaimed, “here you are at last! What news? Is Grant going to cross the river?”
Nighthawk hung his head, and sighed audibly.
“I could not help it, general.”
“Why didn’t you come before?”
“It was impossible, general.”
Stuart shook his head.
“Strike that word out of your dictionary, my friend."{1}
{Footnote 1: His words.}
“That is good advice, general; but this time they nonplussed me. They blocked every road, and I had to join their army.”
“Well, I hope you got the $600 bounty,” said Stuart, laughing.
“That was another impossibility, general; but I enjoyed the very best society yonder.”
“What society, Nighthawk?”
“That of Grant, Meade, and Sedgwick.”
“Ah! my old friend, General Sedgwick! But where are Grant’s headquarters, Nighthawk? Tell me every thing!”
“At Old Wilderness Tavern, general.”
“And you saw him there?”
“In the midst of his generals,—I was temporarily one of his couriers.”
“I understand. Well, their intended movements?”
Nighthawk shook his head.
“I could have foretold you those of to-day, general.”
“How?”
“I heard General Meade dictating his order, through the window of his head-quarters, and can repeat it verbatim, if you desire.”
“By all means, Nighthawk,—it will reveal his programme. But is it possible that you can do so?”
“I can, general; I engraved every word on my memory.”
And, fixing his eyes intently upon vacancy, Nighthawk commenced in a low, monotonous voice:—
“The following movements are ordered for the 5th May, 1864. General Sheridan, commanding cavalry corps, will move with Gregg’s and Torbert’s divisions against the enemy’s cavalry, in the direction of Hamilton’s Crossing. General Wilson, with the Third cavalry division, will move at 5 A.M., to Craig’s meeting-house, on the Catharpin road. He will keep out parties on the Orange Court-House pike, and plank road, the Catharpin road, Pamunkey road, and in the direction of Troyman’s store and Andrew’s store, or Good Hope church. 2. Major-General Hancock, commanding Second Corps, will move at 5 A.M., to Shady Grove church, and extend his right toward the Fifth Corps at Parker’s store. 3. Major-General Warren, commanding Fifth Corps, will move at 5 A.M., to Parker’s store, on the Orange Court-House plank road, and extend his right toward the Sixth Corps at Old Wilderness Tavern. 4. Major-General Sedgwick, commanding Sixth Corps, will move to the Old Wilderness Tavern, on the Orange Court-House pike, as soon as the road is clear.”
The monotonous voice stopped. I had listened with astonishment, and found it difficult to credit this remarkable feat of memory, though it took place before my eyes, or rather, in my ears.
“It is really wonderful,” said Stuart, gravely.
“You see,” said Nighthawk, returning to his original voice, so to speak, “you see, general, this would have been of some importance yesterday.”
“It is very important now,” said Stuart; “it indicates Grant’s programme—his wish to get out of the Wilderness. He is at Old Wilderness Tavern?”
“He was this morning, general, with Meade and Sedgwick.”
“You were there?”
“I was, general.”
“What did you gather, Nighthawk?”
“Little or nothing, general. True, I heard one or two amusing things as I loitered among the couriers near.”
“What?”
“General Grant came out talking with Meade, Sedgwick, and Warren. General Meade said, ‘They have left a division to fool us here, while they concentrate, and prepare a position toward the North Anna,—and what I want is to prevent these fellows from getting back to Mine Run.’”{1}
{Footnote 1: His words.}
Stuart laughed.
“Well, ‘these fellows’ don’t appear to be going back. What did Grant say?”
“He smoked, general.”
“And did not open his lips?”
“Only once, when General Meade said something about ‘manoeuvring.’”
“What did he say?”
“I can give you his words. He took his cigar from his lips—puffed out the smoke—and replied, ‘Oh! I never manoeuvre!’”{1}
{Footnote 1: His words.}
“So much the better,” said Stuart: “the general that does not manoeuvre sacrifices his men: and I predict that General Grant will soon alter his programme.”
Stuart had ordered his horse to be saddled, and now mounted to go to General Lee’s head-quarters.
“By the bye,” he said, “did you hear Warren or Sedgwick say any thing, Nighthawk?”
Nighthawk smiled.
“I heard Sedgwick utter a few words, general.”
“What?”
“He said to Warren, ‘I hear Hood is to take Stuart’s place. I am glad of it, for Stuart is the best cavalry officer ever foaled in North America!’”{1}
{Footnote 1: His words.}