The Lost Army

by Thomas Wallace Knox

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.