V. — THE CHASE.
The cavalry pressed forward without halting and reached the hills above James City—a magniloquent name, but the “city” was a small affair—a mere village nestling down amid an amphitheatre of hills.
On the opposite range we saw the enemy’s cavalry drawn up; and, as we afterward learned, commanded by General Kilpatrick.
They presented a handsome spectacle in the gay autumn sunshine; but we did not attack them. Stuart’s orders were to protect the march of Ewell from observation; and this he accomplished by simply holding the Federal cavalry at arm’s-length. So a demonstration only was made. Skirmishers advanced, and engaged the enemy. The whole day thus passed in apparent failure to drive the Federals.
A single incident marked the day. Stuart had taken his position, with his staff and couriers, on a hill. Here, with his battle-flag floating, he watched the skirmishers,—and then gradually, the whole party, stretched on the grass, began to doze.
They were to have a rude waking. I was lying, holding my bridle, half asleep, when an earthquake seemed to open beneath me. A crash like thunder accompanied it. I rose quickly, covered with dust. A glance explained the whole. The enemy had directed a gun upon the tempting group over which the flag rose, and the percussion-shell had fallen and burst in our midst.
Strangest of all, no one was hurt.
Stuart laughed, and mounted his horse.
“A good shot!” he said, “look at Surry’s hat!” which, on examination, I found covered half an inch deep with earth.
In fact, the shell had burst within three feet of my head—was a “line shot,” and with a little more elevation, would have just reached me. Then, exit Surry! in a most unmilitary manner, by the bursting of a percussion-shell.