CHAPTER XVII.
In more than a dozen regiments of raw soldiery camping in the fields about Centreville that hot July evening were lads no older than George Lawton. Among the seasoned regulars, few as they were, serving either as fifers or drummers in the infantry and marines, buglers in the batteries or trumpeters in the cavalry, were some who were even younger,—boys born in the army far out on the frontier, perhaps, or at the few garrisoned forts on the Atlantic coast,—sons of soldiers who knew no other life and who would have felt awkward in any dress but the uniform. But there were few who did not at first feel, as Snipe felt, a nervous tremor about the knees at sound of those swift banging guns. Veteran soldiers soon learn that cannon may boom all day and little damage be done, and that the real sound that tells of deadly battle is the sustained crackle and crash of musketry. All through the excited army the news had gone that there had been a "meeting" Thursday down at Blackburn's Ford to the left front, "a reconnoissance in force," a staff-officer described it to silent, serious Major Stark, "merely to develop the enemy." But that reconnoissance had developed something else,—the fact that some of the raw regiments, bursting with eagerness to march to Richmond ten days earlier, couldn't stand fire to-day, for the moment the screaming shells from the Confederate guns on the southern bank of Bull Run came crashing through the timber on the north side, a new volunteer command, shoved in there to support a battery, scurried out of it in most undignified haste. Others, no older in service, but better led, stood their ground like men, despite their pale, anxious faces, and roundly jeered the "salt-workers." One thing was settled to the satisfaction of General McDowell, commanding the Union force, and that was that the routes to Manassas Junction, either by way of the Stone Bridge straight ahead on the broad pike, or more directly by the several fords farther down-stream, were vigilantly guarded, so that "the longest way round" would probably be the shortest way to that centre of rebel activity. There at Manassas the railways from the South and from the Shenandoah joined. There were the stores and supplies. There was the strategic point, and scattered along the wooded bluffs that hemmed the stream on the southern side, all along for nearly eight miles were stationed the Southern brigades. With Manassas at their backs five miles away, with Bull Run directly in their front, with only one broad road and four or five bridle-paths or wagon-tracks leading down to it, the Southern general felt well assured in his position and equally confident of his men.
On the other hand, the Union leader was schooled in strategy and grand tactics and quick to see his opportunities. Bull Run was as "crooked as a ram's horn," said the staff-officers sent forward to reconnoitre, but its general course below the Stone Bridge was southeastward, despite its deep bends and twists, while above the bridge, within four miles or so, from the neighborhood of Sudley Springs, it had three sharp elbows, and flowed alternately east and south. Below the bridge the woods were thick on both banks; above it, toward Sudley Church, were many open fields and patches. All Friday and Saturday the Union troops were closing up on Centreville, bringing with them, worse luck, a gang of curious spectators in carriages and buggies,—people coming out the twenty-five miles from Washington as though to a picnic,—and all this motley crowd was scattered through the fields and orchards and shady groves and swarming through the farm enclosures about the once placid, sleepy little Virginia village this still Saturday afternoon that preceded the momentous Sunday of the first real battle of the civil war.
It was seven o'clock by the major's watch as the rear of his silent column swung clear of the bivouac where comrade soldiers stood and longed to cheer them off, but for the caution of their officers passed company by company down the line of stacked rifles. There had been a brief conference between the gray-haired, shrill-voiced colonel and his junior field-officer. The latter had received his orders direct from the commanding general. That accomplished soldier had keenly looked the major over, and, as the latter remounted and rode silently away, had turned to his adjutant-general with the comprehensive remark, "He'll do!" And now, as the twilight deepened and the stars began to twinkle in the eastern skies, through a winding wood-path the column moved, snake-like, swiftly, confidently, yet noiselessly, on. There was barely a farm-wagon track along the springy turf. Each man carried his knapsack, blanket, and his forty rounds. Light marching order would have been welcome after the heat and heavy burdens of the past few days. Route step was the command when clear of the sentry lines, but silence the caution. Quarter of a mile out, and in a little grove, the leaders came upon a company of infantry clustered about their stacked rifles. The wood road forked here, one branch going straight on north, the other bearing farther to the west. A word from the young lieutenant of regulars, riding side by side with Major Stark, and the commander of the picket reserves stood back, and, without a moment's pause, the battalion swung steadily on, taking the right-hand path. A few hundred yards and there was momentary check. A subaltern officer and some twenty or thirty soldiers stood under arms at a bend in the path, and now the light was so dim that the stars directly overhead were beginning to peep down at the drowsing world beneath. The two lieutenants, the professional of the staff, the volunteer of the infantry, held brief parley, while Major Stark looked back toward his coming battalion, signalled to the foremost captain marching sturdily by the side of his first sergeant, and that officer stepped out a yard or two, faced back toward the long column, and, first waving his sword aloft to attract attention, took it in both hands, the left near the point, held it horizontally over his head an instant, and then suddenly lowered it; whereat, without a sound, all who saw as quickly halted short, softly placing the shod butts of the rifles on the ground, and all others almost instantly followed the example. It was part of a silent drill the New-Englanders had been taught for just such emergencies.
With beating heart Snipe listened to the low-toned colloquy. The lieutenant of the picket-guard, a trifle excitedly, was dictating some report just received from the outposts.
"No, I didn't see 'em myself," he replied, in answer to question, "but Sergeant Holman says he couldn't be mistaken. The outermost sentries, three of them, all say the same. There were at least twenty-five horsemen. They forded the Run right down here to the southwest of us, and rode northward so as to cross this slanting path, if they kept on in the same direction, just about a mile from here. Holman's with the outposts now, sir."
The staff-officer turned to Major Stark. "They may have been sent to destroy the very bridge we are ordered to guard," said he, in low tone. "It isn't two miles ahead."
"Then the sooner we get there the better," was the prompt answer, and, glancing over his shoulder, the major signalled again, his right hand high in air at first, then pointing to the front, but in the gathering darkness the gesture was not fully understood. "Ride back, Lawton, and tell Captain Flint to follow with the battalion," and the two mounted officers rode rapidly ahead, and in a moment were lost to sight among the shadowy trees.
It was Snipe's first mission as an orderly, and well he remembered it. Whirling his horse about, he trotted back to where the head of the column stood silently with ordered arms, the men leaning on their muskets. "Major Stark says to follow with the battalion, sir," he promptly announced to the alert captain, using as nearly as possible, as he had read was the duty of staff-officers and messengers, the exact words of the commander; and then, seeing the column instantly obeying, he again turned, rode sharply past the silent picket-post, and, straining his eyes for a sight of his major, while threading the dim vista of the wood path, he soon overtook the two again, halted once more and in earnest converse with a bearded, sturdy-looking sergeant, who, with a little squad of dark-uniformed infantry, formed the outpost.