CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE BOATS UNDER FIRE—IMPORTANT INFORMATION.
There was a shot from the bank. The soldiers sprang to their arms and places, and everybody was ready for business in a moment. The shot had been fired from a clump of trees on the left bank of the river, and as the trees were encumbered with thick underbrush it was impossible to see any one who might be lurking there.
The river at this point was not more than fifty yards in width, so that any assailants would have the boats in very short range. But not another shot was heard, and as the boats one after another drifted past the point, their crews reached the conclusion that the bushwhackers had concluded to seek safety in flight, or, what amounted to the same thing, by making no further demonstration.
A mile or so farther down two of the boats went aground on a bar, and it required a great deal of effort to get them off. Had they been attacked at this point they would have been at a disadvantage, as their assailants could have chosen their own distance, and had the protection of the trees and brushwood along the banks. Harry and Jack began to wish they had stuck to the road rather than essayed naval service in Arkansas waters, where there was no chance of running away in case the enemy proved too strong for them. If they could not resist successfully they had no alternative but to surrender; and, as Harry expressed it, they didn't like to “go around surrendering.”
An hour or more was lost at the point where the boats took the ground, and when night came on little more than half the distance to Jacksonport had been accomplished. The boats were tied up to the northern bank, which was considered safer than the southern one, at a point not more than a mile from the road taken by the army. The chance of bushwackers venturing so near was not great, but a careful watch was kept to avoid surprise.
Early next morning the boats were under way again, and before nightfall they had arrived safely at Jacksonport, where the advance of the army had encamped and was waiting for the rest of the column and also for the boats.
The union of the Black river with the White did not give sufficient water for the steamboats with supplies to ascend from below, and General Curtis learned that they could not be expected to come further up than Clarendon, seventy-five miles below Jacksonport. The only thing to do was to follow the road and river to Clarendon, and after a halt of five days the march was continued. Before the army started on its new march it was reinforced by the arrival of the Second Wisconsin Cavalry which had expected to join it at Batesville. It had marched from Springfield without encountering an enemy at any point, though reports were current of large forces which would obstruct any movements through the country.
Harry and Jack concluded to adhere to the fortunes of the navy in its further descent of the river, and when the boats dropped off to float away with the current they retained their places on the “Cordelia.” The boats were ordered to proceed to Grand Glaise, twelve miles below Jacksonport, and there wait further orders. The army at the same time took up its line of march through the hills and swampy ground east of the river, and was not expected to join the boats until reaching Augusta, thirty-five miles from Jacksonport. A regiment of cavalry was ordered to keep in the neighborhood of the boats to be ready to aid them in case of necessity, which was not long in coming.
The Sixth Missouri Cavalry met the boats at Grand Glaise and ordered them to proceed to Augusta, and on they floated with the sluggish current, winding among the hills and forests that skirt the stream. Colonel Wood, who commanded the cavalry regiment, said good-bye to Captain Wadsworth and started for the main army, but before going far he heard brisk firing from the dense bushes lining the banks of the river just below Grand Glaise.
Hastily returning, he found the boats had been fired upon, and this time with more effect than before. Captain Wadsworth was severely wounded, and some of his men were slightly injured, but nobody was killed.
Harry had a very narrow escape. When the firing began he was working one of the sweeps to bring the boat into the current, it having threatened to run upon a bar that projected from the northern shore. A bullet struck the huge oar on which he was pulling, and buried itself in the wood within an inch of his hand; another passed through the top of his hat, and still another lodged in the cotton-bale which formed his shelter. The men on the boats promptly returned the fire, and by the time the cavalry reached the spot the assailants had mounted their horses and disappeared in the forest. How many there were of them no one could say, as the density of the forest was a complete shield for them. Natives in the vicinity reported nineteen killed, but this was doubtless an exaggeration, as there were probably not above that number of them altogether. The bushes were not searched, either by the crews of the boats or the cavalry; the latter were too much engrossed with the pursuit of the assailants to look for dead or wounded rebels, and the former did not deem it at all prudent to venture ashore.
From this point the boats continued unmolested to Augusta, where it was decided not to try to take them further, as the road lay too far from the river to enable the army to come promptly to their support, and the country was said to be swarming with bushwhackers. All the provisions and other stores on the boats were taken ashore, and the boats and their bulwarks of cotton were set on fire and burned. The pilot who had accompanied them thus far was paid off, but he decided that it might not be safe for him to return to Batesville, as his neighbors would accuse him of being altogether too friendly with the Yanks. He was sorry he had n't thought of it before, or he would n't have ventured down the river at all.
It was the fourth of July when the army reached Augusta, and a salute was fired in honor of the national independence. Our young friends found their horses all right and safe in the hands of the friends to whom they had been intrusted, and it is safe to say that both Harry and Jack rejoiced to be once more in the saddle.
The old fever for scouting came upon them, and as the army was short of provisions they proceeded to hunt up something for feeding purposes. In the outskirts of the town they found a deposit of corn which had been carefully concealed, and had already missed the sharp eyes of several squads of soldiers. There were nearly a hundred bushels of it, and following up their success they came upon another store of still larger amount. In a clump of forest, half a mile or so out of Augusta, they unearthed more than a wagon-load of bacon; and altogether their labors were of material advantage to the little army, which had been disappointed by the failure of the transports and gun-boats to ascend the river.
After their return from the discovery of the bacon, an old negro sidled up to Harry and said he could tell him something he would like to know.
“Out with it,” said Harry. “Don't keep me waiting. What is it you want to tell me?”
“Hole on a bit, young massa,” said the negro. “Dere ain't no hurry 'bout it.”
“Well, I'm in a hurry,” said Harry, “and if you've any talking to do, fire away.”
“Now just look a-heah,” said the darky, “an' I'll tell yer. 'Fi tell somethin' yer want to know real bad, 'll yer give me my free-papers?”
“Certainly,” was Harry's reply; “if you give us any information that's true and useful, you 'll get your free-papers fast enough.”
“Dat's all I want ter know,” continued the colored citizen; “and dis is what I'se gwine ter say.”
Harry listened patiently while the negro with much circumlocution told him of a barn full of provisions which had been accumulated, about two miles out of town, waiting for a favorable opportunity to ship them to the rebel army or to Memphis, which was then the depot from which a large part of the forces in the West were supplied. When convinced that the negro was telling the truth, Harry quickly reported the circumstance to General Vandever and a detail of cavalry was sent to take possession. The negro did n't want to go along with the party, as it would involve him in suspicion which would be bad for him in future, but he gave such minute directions that there was no mistaking the place.
They found the barn and also the provisions. The owner of the place at first denied all knowledge that anything was concealed there, and said they were welcome to anything they could find, but as soon as the discovery was made he assumed a different air altogether. He professed to be a union man, and explained that he had hidden the stuff away to save it from going to the rebels. “I would rather,” said he, “see it all burned up than into a rebel mouth; that's the kind of union man I am.”
The army remained two days at Augusta, and then took up its line of march for Clarendon, where the transports were said to have arrived under convoy of a gunboat. The country between Jacksonport and Clarendon is one of the finest regions of eastern Arkansas. A short distance from the river the bluffs along the stream fall away into low hills and gentle undulations, which become less distinct until at the divide between the White and St. Francis rivers the land becomes an almost unbroken level. A portion of this flat, alluvial country is in many places covered with canebrakes, and is often overflowed in the season of high water. At such times it becomes an almost impassable succession of swamps and quagmires. But at the time our friends traversed it the ground was dry and hard and offered no obstacle to passage save occasionally at the crossings of creeks and rivulets.
Interspersed among these lowlands is a succession of higher grounds, which are level and rarely broken by anything like an elevation. These lands are excellent for cotton, and down to the opening of the war they had annually sent a good supply of the textile plant to market. Cotton was raised there in 1861 to some extent, but in 1862, by orders of the Confederate government, much of the cotton land through the South was planted with corn. The valley of the White river was no exception to the rule, and as our army moved along it passed many fields of corn, of which the ears, just then sufficiently advanced to be edible, formed a welcome addition to the scanty stores possessed by the commissary department. As a single article of diet, green corn is not to be recommended, but when combined with other things it is, as everybody knows, a thing not to be despised.
Every few miles the advance of the army came upon trees felled across the roads, and considerable time was lost in removing these obstructions. From the negroes it was learned that there was a considerable force of rebels at the town of Des Arc, on the east bank of White river, about half-way between Augusta and Clarendon. They were said to be about six thousand strong, and to consist mainly of Arkansas and Texas mounted men, under command of General Rust. As they were at a convenient striking distance from the road which General Curtis was following, it was thought quite likely they would make an attack at some point where they could fight to advantage, and the result proved the correctness of this belief.
Several timber obstructions were encountered, most of them at the crossings of small creeks, but nothing was seen of an enemy until the point was reached where the road from Des Arc joins the main one, about ten miles to the east of that town. Here was the plantation of Colonel Hill, an officer of the Confederate army, and his residence and buildings were at the junction of the roads, in the southwest angle. North of the Des Arc road was a cotton-gin and press, and close by were two aboriginal mounds of unknown date. Colonel Hill was then blessed with his third wife, and the graves of her two predecessors were on the tops of these mounds, each one surrounded by a fence of white palings. “It must have been,” said Harry, afterwards, “a cheerful thing for the third wife to contemplate the graves on these mounds and wonder when her turn would come and where she would be placed.” Jack thought the colonel ought to put up another mound, so as to have everything ready for the good lady's demise.
The country around the junction of the road had been cleared for cotton-fields, but a little way beyond it the forests were dense and afforded good cover for an enemy. The mounted men, in advance, with whom were Harry and Jack, discovered signs of an enemy lurking in the timber south of Hill's house, and word was sent to bring up the infantry. Harry rode back to carry the order, and in a little while the infantry had come forward and was ready for business. The Thirty-third Illinois and the Eleventh Wisconsin were the ones selected for the work; they deployed as skirmishers, and soon exchanged shots with the rebels, who were spread out in the timber. The two union regiments were not more than six hundred strong; they were opposed by about fifteen hundred rebels, but the disparity of numbers was balanced by the superiority of the weapons of the former and their good drill and discipline. The rebel forces consisted of some very raw cavalry from Arkansas and Texas, and some newly-assembled conscripts who had not been in camp many days and knew practically nothing about military life.
Soon as the firing began to have anything like vigor to it the conscripts fled in disorder, but the Texan troops stood their ground very well. As our right approached the enemy's left it was met by a volley which caused two of the companies to fall back a little; the rebels undertook to follow up the advantage thus gained, and to do so emerged from the wood into the open ground.
Here they were met by volleys of musketry and by rapid discharges of grape from two steel howitzers which were brought forward by the First Indiana Cavalry. This welcome was too much for the rebels, who broke and fled from the field, leaving a good many of their men dead or wounded. Some of them retreated to Des Arc, and others along the road to the south. It was afterwards reported that three or four thousand men were marching from Des Arc to join them, but were unable to get across the Cache river, which is too deep to be forded and the single ferry-boat was not able to bring them over in time to be of use. When it was found that the other force had been defeated, they gave up the attempt to interrupt the advance of the union army and marched back to Des Arc.
CHAPTER XXXIX. A JOKE ON THE SPIES—WONDERFUL SHELLS—THE ARMY REACHES CLARENDON.
A flag of truce came during the evening, but was not admitted. The bearers were informed that the dead were being buried by our own men, and the wounded receiving every attention. The next morning another flag of truce came, and as there was no good reason for it, the general naturally suspected that it was a pretext to learn something about our forces and position.
He admitted the bearers of the flag, and kept them inside his lines all day, so that anything they might learn by the use of their eyes would not be of any advantage to their side. The suspicion that the burial of the dead and the care of the wounded was not the real cause of the visit was strengthened by the inquisitiveness of some of the men, and the fact that one of them was discovered making notes of certain conversations when he thought he was not observed.
Harry was the discoverer of this note-taking, and reported the circumstance to General Vandever.
“If that's what they're after,” remarked the general, “we 'll give'em all they want.”
So he had the visitors transferred from the tent where they were at the time, and placed in a room in one of the outbuildings not far away. There was another room in the same building, and the partition between the two was full of cracks, so that conversation could be heard with ease from one room to the other.
The general instructed Harry as to what he was to do, and then he went with his adjutant and two or three other officers to the room adjoining the one where the truce-bearers were held.
“Here we can talk without being disturbed,” said the general. “My orderly knows where I am, and if I'm wanted he 'll call me.”
Everything was perfectly still in the adjoining room, and it was evident that the men there were using their ears to the best advantage.
“Now,” said the general, “to begin with, I suppose you don't understand why we're marching south and along the White river.”
There was a pause, and then he continued:
“We're not strong enough to go to Little Rock now,” he said; “but the thirty-five thousand men with ninety-two pieces of artillery that will join us in the next week will put us on the offensive, and then Little Rock must look out.”
“How are we going there?” queried one of the officers. “General Curtis told me this morning that we should go across the country to within about thirty miles of Little Rock, or perhaps twenty miles, and there he should divide the force. Two-thirds of it will cross on pontoons, which are being brought along by the new army, and there will be enough of them to lay three bridges over the river at once. While they oppose us at one place we 'll get over at another, and in three hours the entire force for that side will be safely landed. Then they 'll go to the rear of Little Rock and lay siege to it, while the other third of our strength will fire away at it from the other side of the river. There will be four batteries of heavy siege-guns playing on the town all at once, and they are bringing two thousand shells loaded with Greek fire to burn up every house in the place if necessary. Twenty-four hours will be allowed for sending out women, children and other non-combatants, and then the battle will begin.”
“But won't they be likely to interrupt us on the way with General Rust's army and other troops they can get together?”
“They may try, but it 'll be bad for'em,” was the reply. “The government has sent us some of the new shells invented by a Yankee somewhere in Massachusetts, that have done wonderful work in Virginia.”
“What are those? I haven't heard of them.”
“Well, we've been keeping it pretty quiet,” was the reply, “as we don't want the rebels on this side of the Mississippi to find it out if we can help it. These new shells are loaded with a composition that spreads out when it explodes, and kills everybody within twenty yards. It's a secret composition, and the government pays fifty dollars for each shell the inventor delivers, and he guarantees that if two of these shells are fired where there is a regiment, it will kill every man in it. They are not wounded at all, but just fall down as though struck by lightning. Here's an account of what they 'll do.”
The general took a document from his pocket, and pretended to read a wonderful story of how the entire garrison of a rebel fort on the James river was killed by one of these new-fangled shells, which had been dropped into it from a mortar fully a mile away. He told his friends they must keep the matter secret, as it was known only to General Curtis and a few of his higher officers, and they were particularly desirous that the information should n't leak out. “There 'll be three hundred of those shells,” said he, “and half of them will be enough to kill all the rebels in Arkansas.”
Then he went on with other wild yarns with the utmost seriousness, and at length was interrupted by Harry, who delivered some despatches just received by General Curtis from General Halleck and brought by a courier, who came through from Helena in disguise. They announced a great victory for the union army in Virginia, the imminent capture of Richmond, the surrender of a large part of Lee's army, together with other bits of information that would have been highly important if true.
When it was thought that the eavesdroppers had been properly “loaded,” as the general expressed it, the party retired, and the flag-of-truce bearers were left to ponder on what they had heard. In the afternoon the army moved forward to take up a new camp, and when the column was under way—in fact after the greater part of it had marched off—the truce-party was released and allowed to go back to its own camp.
The seed was sown on good ground. There was great alarm through the rebel ranks at the new terrors in store for them, and in spite of all the vigilance of the commanders, there were numerous desertions daily. The more intelligent among the officers had a suspicion that the eavesdroppers had been hoaxed, but they were powerless to stop the spreading of the reports, which grew in horror as they passed from mouth to mouth. The wonderful shells which could sweep off so many men “as though they had been struck by lightning” disturbed the dreams of many a soldier of Arkansas or Texas, and were not often out of his thoughts in his waking hours.
Very soon after this event the rebels abandoned Des Arc, and concentrated in the capital or around it. Earthworks were thrown up to defend the city against the threatened attack, and so much attention was paid to Little Rock that all other parts of the state were practically deserted.
And those wonderful shells are yet resting in the brain of the man who invented them. Perhaps they will be developed in some future war.
It is well to remark at this point that the trick which was played on the flag-of-truce bearers is by no means a new one, though it was new enough on that occasion. It was played several times by both sides during the war; but its most successful performance was by Stonewall Jackson in one of his campaigns in the Shenandoah valley.
Several captured union officers were under guard in a house in Winchester, and expected to be sent to Richmond and locked up in Libby prison. General Jackson had a council of war with his division commanders in a room adjoining the one where the officers were confined, he gave his orders with great exactness, told where each division was to march, and sent the commanders away one after another to get his force in readiness. They were to advance on the union position and give battle, and everything was prepared with the utmost care.
Then he asked his adjutant-general when he had sent the prisoners to Richmond.
“They have n't been sent off yet, General,” was the reply. “But we 'll start them soon after daylight. General Stuart said his cavalry must rest till then.”
“If they have n't gone now,” said the general, “you'd better parole them and send them down the valley. Let them start immediately, so that they 'll be well out of the way before we begin our advance.”
With this the general went out and was soon followed by the adjutant. In fifteen minutes an officer came to take their paroles, and they were escorted to the union lines by a flag-of-truce party. As they passed through the town they saw that preparations were going on for a movement, and when they got within their own camp they of course told what they had heard.
Of course their information was valuable, and preparations were at once made to resist the advance. Hour after hour passed away waiting for Stonewall Jackson, but he did n't come. All those hours he was marching the other way as fast as possible, and executing one of those movements for which he was famous. He suddenly appeared at a point where he was least expected, and then it was realized that his talk in hearing of the prisoners was all a ruse.
For the rest of the way to Clarendon General Curtis met with no opposition other than that caused by trees felled across the road. It had been reported that a gunboat and two transports with supplies had reached Clarendon and were waiting for him, and he was very desirous of finding them. The rumor passed along the lines that transports and supplies were at hand, and so the soldiers pushed vigorously on to that point.
They reached Clarendon on the afternoon of the ninth of July, and were bitterly disappointed. The gun-boat and transports had been there and waited a while, but as they could get no tidings of the whereabouts of General Curtis, and the rebels were said to be mustering in force for their capture, it was considered prudent to retire. The transports had been gone about twenty hours when the advance of the column arrived, and with them the supplies that had been so anxiously desired. Truly the army seemed to have been deserted in the wilderness.
From all that could be learned there was no enemy between Clarendon and the Mississippi, the nearest point of which was about sixty miles away. There might be a few straggling bands of bushwackers, but nothing that could make any serious opposition. But sixty miles is a long distance in a strange country, and when provisions are running short.
The inhabitants of Clarendon were much like those of Batesville and Jacksonport, thoroughly secession in their sympathies, and wondering when the war would end, so that they might get their cotton to market. They had very little to sell in the way of provisions, as they had been pretty well cleaned out by their own government; but the usual foraging, in which Harry and Jack took a prominent part, served to bring many things edible to light.
Most of the able-bodied men were away at the war, leaving behind only the aged and the boys who were too young for service. Among those who remained was a lawyer, a dignified and red-nosed citizen of some sixty or more years, who demanded audience with General Curtis, in order to prove to him that he had no constitutional right to invade the State of Arkansas!
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CHAPTER XL. A NIGHT ATTACK BY PIGS—BATTLE BETWEEN FORTS AND GUN-BOATS—DISASTER TO THE MOUND CITY.
On the night of the ninth, Harry and Jack had an adventure of a new sort, which happily turned out to be bloodless.
The greater part of the baggage-wagons failed to come up until late in the evening, and it became necessary for the soldiers to bivouac without shelter, as the little town was not equal to their accommodation. Our young friends picketed their horses, having first cut a quantity of green oats from a field near by, with which they fed the faithful animals.
Then they took two or three bundles of the oats to lie upon and flattered themselves that they would make a comfortable bed, or one which would certainly be an improvement upon the bare ground. With a thin layer on the ground and a good-sized bundle for their pillows, they went to sleep in very short order.
They were sleeping soundly, and possibly dreaming of home and friends, when they were suddenly and rudely awakened. The night was dark and their first thought was that they had been surprised by the enemy.
There was a long and very dark form standing over Harry and another over Jack, and each of the assailants seemed to be looking for the throat of his victim.
Harry gave his disturber a heavy blow with his fist, which sent him reeling over upon the soldier who was lying close by and snoring loudly. The snoring stopped at once, as the fall of the heavy body waked the soldier, who sprang to his feet and reached for his gun. He had the impulse to shoot, but did not know in what direction to fire.
Jack grappled with his enemy, and there was a struggle which may be said to have resulted in victory for both. Jack did not succeed in holding down his assailant, as the latter slipped through his grasp and made his escape. But the youth saved his life and was not, in fact, injured further than a few slight contusions and abrasions.
Another soldier who had been awakened drew his bayonet, and as one of the attacking force rushed past him the man gave a well-directed prod with the weapon, which stretched the intruder on the ground. It also roused a deafening squeal, that indicated the character of the creators of the disturbance.
It seems that a drove of half-wild pigs had come out of the forest, on the lookout for something to eat. In the southern states pigs generally run at large, being called up occasionally by means of a horn, to be fed and selected for slaughter or other purposes. As they are always fed when summoned by the horn, they soon learn to come to its call; but sometimes, when the summonses are infrequent, they grow so wild that they do not heed the sound. Then they have to be chased up, and the work of driving them in is no small affair.
Very often they remain in the woods during the day and come around at night to the neighborhood of the dwellings in search of food. The southern pigs are like those of any other part of the country, or of the world, for that matter, as they are gifted with free appetites and are not over particular about their food as long as it is something edible.
In their nocturnal ramble this drove under consideration had come upon the sleeping-place of our young friends. Having scented the oats which the boys had taken to sleep upon, the animals rushed in without ceremony and proceeded to devour the succulent grain without asking permission of those who were then in possession. The assault of two of the pigs upon the bundles which formed the pillows of Harry and Jack gave the impression that the marauders were seeking to reach the throats of their victims, and their forms in the darkness were not unlike those of men stooping forward to attack the slumberers. Two of the pigs paid for the assault with their lives, and formed a material addition to the bill of fare of the men whose slumbers they had broken. There was little sleep in the group for the rest of the night, their hearty laughter over the incident, and speculations as to whether the rest of the pigs would come back, having effectually driven sleep from their eyelids.
The presence of the pigs having been discovered, a horn was blown the next morning and turned to good advantage. Pigs to the number of a hundred or more came trooping out of the forest, and were enticed into a yard which had been hastily constructed by some of the soldiers. When they ceased coming the yard was closed, and the soldiers said afterwards that pork roasted over a campfire formed an excellent substitute for other articles of food when the others could n't be had.
The rumor of the granting of free-papers to the negroes who had been working on the fortifications or helped to fell timber to obstruct the march of the army was rapidly spread about Clarendon, and in a few hours the colored population for miles around seemed to have gathered there. All declared they had been doing the forbidden work, and all, as far as it was possible to grant them in the limited time, received their papers.
“If we had only known it,” said Harry to Jack, when they learned the state of affairs, “you and I would have tried to get through to bring news to the fleet, and we would have got through somehow. We might have taken a skiff and paddled down in the night, and we would have rigged it up like a log, so that it would have required very sharp eyes to discover that it was anything else than an ordinary log drifting with the current. But there's no use crying over spilt milk, as the old saw has it, and so we need n't waste the time over planning for past performances. But I'd have given a good deal to have known of this in time.”
Jack agreed with him, and after a very brief talk on the subject they turned their attention to other matters.
There was no alternative for the army but to make the best of its way to Helena, on the Mississippi, sixty or sixty-five miles away. The tenth of July was spent at Clarendon, and at four o'clock on the morning of the eleventh General Washburne, with two thousand five hundred cavalry and six mountain howitzers, started on a forced march for the banks of the great river. They followed the old military road between Little Rock and Helena. It proved to be a very good road, though there were several bad places at the crossings of small streams. With a few exceptions, and those doing no harm, not a shot was fired at them along the whole of the route, all the forces of the enemy having been withdrawn to the defense of the White river or to points further back in the interior of the state.
Harry and Jack were allowed to accompany General Washburne's advance, as it was thought they might be useful in case there was any scouting to be done or any foraging for provisions, but as the march was a forced one there was no time for anything of the sort, and they had nothing to do but stick to the column and keep their horses in the road.
About nine o'clock in the forenoon of the twelfth the foremost of the soldiers rose in their stirrups and gave a loud cheer, which was speedily carried along the whole line. Cheer upon cheer followed, no one being told the cause, but everybody realizing that the end of the long march was near. The spires of the churches of Helena were soon afterward in full view, and beyond them gleamed the waters of the Mississippi, reflecting the rays of the summer sun.
Harry and Jack were among the loudest of the cheerers, as they realized that, for the present, at any rate, their wanderings in the wilds of Arkansas were at an end. They were weary with the almost unbroken ride of twenty-eight hours, covered with the dust that rose in clouds from the dry road, and suffering the pangs of hunger and thirst, but no worse in that respect than all those about them. But with all their weariness and hunger, and through all the dust that covered them, their hearts swelled with joy, and they shouted themselves hoarse over the sight of the great river of the West.
But now came a new difficulty. Helena had not been occupied by union troops, and there was no one there to welcome them. The gun-boat fleet had called there and agreed with the local authorities that the town should not be harmed as long as no outrages were perpetrated on passing steamboats. The agreement had been kept, and though several bands of bushwhackers had dropped in to see their friends, they had been restrained from making any attacks or otherwise disturbing the peace. The inhabitants were not particularly loyal toward the government, but they had heard the fate of several places where boats had been fired upon, and had sufficient influence to keep their bushwhacking friends quiet.
As the advance of General Washburne's cavalry entered the town, several men, who had been loitering in front of one of the stores, made haste to mount their horses and get away. A few shots were fired at them, but no harm was done, and no attempt was made to pursue them. In a little while the whole force of cavalry had reached the river bank, and the Mississippi was scanned up and down to discover a steamboat.
General Washburne hoped there would be a gun-boat with which he could communicate, but no gun-boat was in sight. Soon the smoke of a steamboat was seen below the town, around a bend of the river, and in due time she came in sight, slowly stemming the powerful current. It was an ordinary transport, quite incapable of defense, and the general quickly made up his mind to stop her by friendly means if he could, or by force if he must.
As the steamer came in front of Helena flags were waved again and again, but the boat paid no attention to them. Then a shot was fired across her bows to warn her to stop, but this had no effect; another shot followed, and then another, aimed like the first, so as not to harm the boat, but to make those on board believe that something serious would happen soon unless she came to a halt. Seeing there was no escape from the supposed rebels, the pilot headed the boat for the bank and ran in. A dozen or more soldiers were on her deck with their guns ready for business, but they soon perceived that resistance to such a force would be useless. They prepared to surrender and make the best of their misfortune. But before the gangplank had been run out one of the shrewdest of them observed that the formidable force was habited in the union uniform, though it was so sadly covered with dust that it could easily be mistaken for the confederate gray.
An officer who was among the passengers brought a field-glass to bear on the party on the bank. He was an old friend of Captain Winslow, the quartermaster of General Curtis's army, and was not long in making him out, in spite of the dust that covered him and his generally bedraggled appearance after his long ride. Holding aside his glass, he shouted:
“Is Captain Winslow there?”
“Here I am,” was the reply, “and here are the rest of us.”
“All right, pilot,” said the officer; “you're safe enough now. You're captured by our friends.”
In a few minutes the boat had been made fast to the shore, and General Washburne came on board accompanied by Captain Winslow, Captain Noble, of General Curtis's staff, and several other officers. There was a recognition of old friends and introductions all around. The new arrivals were treated to the best the steamer afforded, and the officer who had charge of the boat asked what they could do for the weary and dusty crowd.
“Give us whatever provisions you can spare,” said General Washburne, “and then hurry up to Memphis as fast as you can with Captains Winslow and Noble. They 'll get supplies for us and have them shipped down here to meet the army by the time it arrives.”
The boat was not well provided with stores, as she had no occasion for anything beyond sufficient to feed her company to Memphis, but whatever she had was quickly rolled on the bank and handed over to the quartermaster of the division. When this had been done she immediately steamed away for Memphis, ninety miles up the river. She was obliged to lie at anchor during the night, owing to a dense fog, and did not reach Memphis until the following forenoon.
Supplies were immediately shipped to Helena, and by the morning of the fourteenth they were piled on the bank—a welcome sight to the soldiers, that marched in as closely behind the cavalry as it was possible for infantry to follow. The march from Clarendon was accomplished in little more than two days, and not a wagon was lost or left behind. By the evening of the thirteenth all the divisions had arrived, and anxiously waited the provisions which came to them on the following morning. Hundreds of hands were ready to assist in the landing, and rarely has a steamboat discharged her cargo with greater celerity.
The column was followed by a great number of negroes, who feared the treatment they would receive from their masters after the departure of the union forces from Clarendon. At one time it was remarked that there were more negroes than white men in Helena, and the support of the colored population became a matter of serious consequence. The difficulty was partially solved a few months later, when it was decided to enlist negroes as soldiers, and several regiments of them were formed for infantry and cavalry service. Thousands of able-bodied citizens of African descent were enrolled in the army, and though they had their defects they did credit to themselves, besides exasperating the rebels to an unwonted degree. Many of the rebel officers subsequently declared that their greatest mistake was that they did not arm their negroes early in the war, and promise to give them their freedom at the end.
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CHAPTER XLI. THE LOST ARMY IN CAMP AT HELENA—NEGROES UTILIZED—THE END.
Our story draws to a close. We have brought Harry and Jack to the banks of the great river, and there we will leave them. The army of General Curtis had terminated a most arduous campaign. Since leaving Rolla in February, six months before, it had marched more than six hundred miles, much of the way through a thinly-settled and inhospitable region, with bad roads, unbridged streams, and all the difficulties of locomotion in a new country. It had fought several minor engagements and skirmishes, and engaged in a battle of three days' duration—that of Pea Ridge—out of which it emerged victorious after combating with a force three times as great as its own. It had performed some of the best marching on record, and its men were ready to go through another campaign of the same sort, only asking for a brief rest and for sufficient good food to restore their accustomed strength. And the reader may be sure that nothing was kept from them that was within the power of the quartermasters to give, and the camps in and around Helena were a scene of feasting and rejoicing, such as that quiet town on the Mississippi had never before known.
Harry and Jack were quite as ready as any one else for a good rest, and did not hang back when there was a prospect of something nice to eat. As they strolled through the streets and along the levee of Helena they built many castles in the air, and pondered upon what they had been through since they left their homes a twelve-month before.
“Wonder how many miles we've traveled?” said Harry. “I leave out of the calculation the railway and steamboat traveling, and only include horseback riding and on foot.”
“I don't know, I'm sure,” replied Jack. “Let's figure it up as best we can, and see how it comes out.”
They proceeded to figure it, but frankly acknowledged that the job was a difficult one, on account of their numerous scouting expeditions, many of which they could n't remember at the moment. Altogether they thought it must have been not far from a thousand miles up to the time they made their last departure from Rolla. The army, as we have seen, had marched six hundred miles from Rolla to Helena, and as the boys had made many scouting and other expeditions around Pea Ridge, Forsyth and Batesville, they thought it not unfair to add four hundred miles to the total of the army's movements, making two thousand miles altogether.
“Just think of it!” exclaimed Jack. “Two thousand miles! Why, that's two-thirds the distance, about, from New York to San Francisco. It's a big lot of traveling, especially when it's been done on the quarter-deck of a horse, and sometimes under very hard circumstances. We've been many times in peril of our lives, passed through a great many privations, been cold and wet and hungry, but for all that, here we are as healthy as a couple of young tigers, ready for the next adventure that turns up.”
“Yes, that's so,” replied Harry; “and I suppose you don't want to go home just now, do you?”
“Not I,” was the ready response; “but we 'll see what our folks say about it, and also what the general says.”
“We haven't had any letters for a long time,” said Harry, “and furthermore we have n't sent any, for the very simple reason that the mails could n't get either to or from us. We've been buried in the wilderness as much as though we had been in the middle of Africa.”
“Yes,” replied Jack; “and that reminds me of something I heard General Vandever saying this morning. He had a newspaper which somebody brought down on a steamboat from Memphis, and I heard him telling General Washburne that the newspapers were full of articles about us, and there was a great deal of anxiety concerning General Curtis and his army.”
“Then he laughed,” continued Jack, “and said they were speaking of us as 'The Lost Army.' Nothing had been heard from us for such a long time that they were afraid we'd been lost and could n't get back again, or perhaps the rebs had killed or captured us all.”
“Well, we have n't been lost very much,” said Harry, with what may be called an audible smile. “We've always known where we were, and whenever the enemy attacked us he had reason to know that we knew. But, I say, Jack, that gives me an idea.”
“What is that?”
“Why, if we ever write a story of our campaigns that 'll be a good name for it. We 'll call it 'The Lost Army,' and it 'll be a first-rate title.”
“That's so,” Jack answered, “and it will be quite as truthful as many titles of books I've seen. Very often when you read a book there's very little in the pages of the volume that seem to have been suggested by what you find on the title-page.”
“Just so,” said Harry, “and a man will have to read clear through to the last chapter before he finds out what The Lost Army was. And when he does find out he 'll agree with us that we have n't been going round getting lost very much.”
We had the permission of the youths to give the account of their experiences in the southwest, and have taken it, title and all. This is why our story has been called as the reader has seen.
Helena continued to be a permanent military post from that time onward, but the rebels did not attempt to disturb it, for the double reason that their force of troops on the west of the Mississippi was small, and no good could come from a raid on the town when they would not be able to hold it more than a few hours, only until gun-boats could arrive to drive them away. General Curtis was ordered to St. Louis to take command of the Department of the Missouri, and operate against the rebels that were making things somewhat lively in the neighborhood of Springfield and Fayetteville. A portion of the troops that had composed The Lost Army remained at Helena, but the greater part were ordered to join the corps that made the second attack on Vicksburg and ultimately succeeded in reducing that important stronghold of the rebellion.
Two or three weeks after the arrival of General Curtis at Helena word was received of a party of rebels some twelve or fifteen miles away in a northerly direction. Two companies of the Third Wisconsin Cavalry went to look for the enemy, and were accompanied by our young friends. They found the enemy, and very unexpectedly too, for they ran into an ambuscade; but happily the aim of the rebel rifles was so bad that only two or three men were injured. Then the unionists “went in,” and thrashed the rebels, compelling them to retreat after the loss of several of their number. Harry and Jack had each a prisoner to his credit, though it is proper to say that they were not captured in fair fighting. The way of it was this:
After the fighting was over the youths dismounted to look over the ground and pick up anything that might be of value or would indicate to what company or regiment, if any, the men they had been engaged with belonged. They had done this on several occasions to advantage, and in the latter part of their campaigning it was a rule to which they adhered whenever circumstances permitted.
While they were inspecting the scene of the skirmish, Harry came to a large tree which proved on examination to be hollow. He remarked to Jack that it was a good place for a man to hide in, to which Jack replied that it would hold half a dozen or more if they did n't mind a little crowding.
“Who knows but that some of those fellows hid there when they found we were getting the best of'em,” said Harry. “Suppose we investigate that tree.”
Jack agreed to it, and they approached the tree, cocked their pistols and pointed them up the hollow into the darkness.
“Come down out of that,” said Harry, in a commanding tone, “or we 'll shoot daylight into you.”
There was no response, and Harry was about to turn away when Jack, more in fun than with any expectation of finding anybody, called out:
“Come down, I say. You 'll have just five seconds to come in.”
“I'm a-coming,” said a weak voice from the darkness, much to the surprise of the boys, and a moment later down slipped a forlorn looking “Butternut,” who was evidently greatly frightened.
“Surrender!” shouted Harry, “and tell the rest of'em to come right away.”
“There's only one more feller there,” said the prisoner, who surrendered by throwing his hands in the air and dropping his shotgun on the ground. The summons was renewed, and down came the “one more feller” and surrendered after the same fashion; and this was the way their prisoners were taken.
“Not quite as meritorious a performance as capturing them in open fighting,” said Harry; “but then it's like hooking a fish in the side instead of catching him in the regular way by the mouth—he counts just the same.”
During their stay at Helena Harry and Jack made themselves useful in looking after the negroes that flocked there for protection, and they were sometimes derisively mentioned by their comrades as managers of the Freed-men's Bureau. But they took the satire good-naturedly and went on with their work, which consisted of aiding in the distribution of rations, making lists of the negroes as fast as they came in, assigning them to different parts of the camp, helping them to their free-papers, drafting out all who were able to work, and sending them to the levee to aid in unloading steamboats, or into the forests in the neighborhood of Helena, where they were employed to cut wood. At every opportunity they endeavored to instill into the negro-mind the idea that freedom did n't mean idleness, and insisted that the best way of making this fact understood was to put the negro at work, even if work had to be manufactured for him.
Consequently when there was nothing else to be done, Harry would take the negroes who were under his orders and set them to throwing up a fortification around the camp. When it was completed he pretended to wish to change something about it, and thus the earth of which it was composed was handled over several times in succession.
The last we saw of our young friends in the camp at Helena they were looking on and listening one Sunday evening when the negroes were having a religious meeting. Several negro preachers harangued the assemblage in their quaint and forcible way. Prayers were offered, and three or four hymns were sung with great fervor, all the congregation joining, and fairly making the woods ring with their voices.