The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖
- Author: Joseph A. Altsheler
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Dick noted the significance of the words, "if I am still able to put my
hand on you," but he merely spoke of his gratitude and went with young
Woodville into the little apartment. It was on the right side of the
hall, and a round shutterless hole opened into the ravine, admitting
light and air. The "window," which was not more than a foot in diameter
faced toward the east and gave a view of earthworks, and the region
beyond, where the Union army stood.
The room itself contained but little, a cot, some blankets, clothing,
and articles of the toilet.
"Mason," said Woodville, "make yourself as comfortable as you can here.
I did not know until I escaped from Jackson that it was you who ignored
my presence there. You seem in some manner to have won the good opinion
of my uncle, and, in any event, he could not bear to remain in debt to a
Yankee. If you're careful you're safe here for the day, although you may
be lonesome. I must go at once to our lines. Cousin Margaret will bring
you something to eat."
They shook hands again.
"I can't do much fighting," said Woodville, "owing to this wounded arm
of mine, but I can carry messages, and the line is so long many are to
be taken."
He went out and Miss Woodville came soon with food on a tray. Dick
suspected that they could ill spare it, but he must eat and he feared to
offer pay. It embarrassed him, too, that she should wait upon him, but,
in their situation, it was absolutely necessary that she do so, even
were there a servant somewhere, which he doubted. But she left the tray,
and when she returned for it an hour later she had only a few words to
say.
Dick stood at the round hole that served as a window. There were
bushes about it, and, at that point, the cliff seemed to be almost
perpendicular. He was safe from observation and he looked over a
vast expanse of country. The morning was dazzlingly clear, and he saw
sections of the Confederate earthworks with their men and guns, and far
beyond them other earthworks and other guns, which he knew were those of
his own people.
While he stood there alone, free from the tension that had lasted
while Slade was present, he realized the great volume of fire that the
Northern cannon were pouring without ceasing upon Vicksburg. The deep
rumble was continually in his ears, and at times his imagination made
the earth shake. He saw two shells burst in the air, and a shattering
explosion told that a third struck near by. To the eastward smoke was
always drifting. The Southern cannon seldom replied.
He resolved to attempt escape during the coming night. It hurt him to
bring danger upon the Woodvilles and he wished, too, to fulfill his
mission. Others, beyond question, would reach the fleet with the
message, but he wished to reach it also.
Yet nothing new occurred during all the long day. Miss Woodville brought
him more food at noon, but scarcely spoke. Then he returned to the hole
in the cliff, and remained there until twilight. Young Woodville
came, and he gathered from his manner that there had been no important
movement of the armies, that all as yet was preparation. But he inferred
that the storm was coming, and he told Victor that he meant to leave
that night.
He was opposed vehemently. The line of Southern sentinels watched
everywhere. Slade was most vigilant. He might come at any time into the
ravine. No, he must wait. The next night, perhaps, but in any event he
must remain a while.
Nor did he depart the next night either. Instead, two or three days
passed, and he was still in the house dug in the hillside, a guest and
yet a captive. The bombardment had gone on, his food was still brought
to him by Miss Woodville, and once or twice Victor came, but Dick, as he
was in honor bound, asked him no question about the armies.
The waiting, the loneliness and the suspense were terrible to one so
young, and so ambitious. And yet he had fared better than he had a right
to expect, a fact, however, that did not relieve his situation.
Another night came, and he went to sleep in his lonely cell in the wall,
but he was awakened while it was yet intensely dark by a cannonade far
surpassing in violence any that had gone before. He rushed to the hole,
but he could see nothing in the ravine. Yet the whole plateau seemed to
shake with the violence of the concussions and the crash of exploding
shells.
The fire came from all sides, from the river as well as the land. The
boom of the huge mortars on the boats there sounded above everything.
Dick knew absolutely now that the message he was to carry had been
delivered by somebody else.
He heard under the continued thunder of the guns sharp commands, and the
tread of many troops moving. He knew that the Southern forces were going
into position, and he felt himself that the tremendous fire was the
prelude to a great attack. His excitement grew. He strained his eyes,
but he could see nothing in the dark ravine, or out there where the
cannon roared, save the rapid, red flashes under the dim horizon. He had
his watch and he had kept it running. Now he was able to make out that
it was only three o'clock in the morning. A long time until day and
he must wait until then to know what such a furious convulsion would
achieve.
The slow time passed, and there was no decrease of the fire. Once or
twice he came away from the window and listened at the entrance to his
little room, but he could hear nothing stirring in the larger chamber.
Yet it was incredible that Colonel Woodville and his daughter should not
be awake. They would certainly be listening with an anxiety and suspense
not less than his.
Dawn came after painful ages, and slowly the region out there where the
Union army lay rose into the light. But it was a red dawn, a dawn in
flame and smoke. Scores of guns crashed in front, and behind the heavy
booming of the mortars on the boats formed the overnote of the storm.
The opening was not large, but it afforded the lad a good view, and he
thrust his head out as far as he could, every nerve in him leaping at
the deep roar of the cannonade. He had no doubt that the assault was
about to be made. He was wild with eagerness to see it, and it was a
cruel hurt to his spirit that he was held there, and could not take a
part in it.
He thought of rushing from the place, and of seeking a way through the
lines to his own army, but a little reflection showed him that it would
be folly. He must merely be a witness, while Colonel Winchester, Warner,
Pennington, the sergeant, Colonel Hertford, all whom he knew and the
tens of thousands whom he did not know, fought the battle.
A tremendous sound, distant and steady, would not blot out much smaller
sounds nearby, and now he heard noises in the larger chamber. The voice
of Colonel Woodville was raised in sharp command.
"Lift me up!" he said, "I must see! Must I lie here, eating my soul out,
when a great battle is going on! Help me up, I say! Wound or no wound, I
will go to the door!"
Then the voice of Miss Woodville attempting to soothe was heard, but
the colonel broke forth more furiously than ever, not at her, but at his
unhappy fate.
Dick, spurred by impulse, left his alcove and entered the room.
"Sir," he said respectfully to Colonel Woodville, "you are eager to see,
and so am I. May I help you?"
Colonel Woodville turned a red eye upon him.
"Young man," he said, "you have shown before a sense of fitness, and
your appearance now is most welcome. You shall help me to the door,
and I will lean upon you. Together we will see what is going to happen,
although I wish for one result, and you for another. No, Margaret, it
is not worth while to protest any further. My young Yankee and I will
manage it very well between us."
Miss Woodville stepped aside and smiled wanly.
"I think it is best, Miss Woodville," Dick said in a low tone.
"Perhaps," she replied.
Colonel Woodville impatiently threw off the cover. He wore a long purple
dressing gown, and his wound was in the leg, but it was partly healed.
Dick helped him out of the bed and then supported him with his arm under
his shoulder. Within that singular abode the roar of the guns was a
steady and sinister mutter, but beneath it now appeared another note.
Colonel Woodville had begun to swear. It was not the torrent of loud
imprecation that Dick had heard in Jackson, but subdued, and all the
more fierce because it was so like the ferocious whine of a powerful and
hurt wild animal. Swearing was common enough among the older men of the
South, even among the educated, but Colonel Woodville now surpassed them
all.
Dick heard oaths, ripe and rich, entirely new to him, and he heard the
old ones in new arrangements and with new inflections. And yet there was
no blasphemy about it. It seemed a part of time and place, and, what was
more, it seemed natural coming from the lips of the old colonel.
They reached the door, the cut in the side of the ravine, and at once a
wide portion of the battlefield sprang into the light, while the roar
of the guns was redoubled. Dick would have stepped back now, but Colonel
Woodville's hand rested on his shoulder and his support was needed.
"My glasses, Margaret!" said the colonel. "I must see! I will see! If
I am but an old hound, lying here while the pack is in full cry, I will
nevertheless see the chase! And even if I am an old hound I could run
with the best of them if that infernal Yankee bullet had not taken me in
the leg!"
Miss Woodville brought him the glasses, a powerful pair, and he glued
them instantly to his eyes. Dick saw only the field of battle, dark
lines and blurs, the red flare of cannon and rifle fire, and towers and
banks of smoke, but the colonel saw individual human beings, and, with
his trained military eye, he knew what the movements meant. Dick felt
the hand upon his shoulder trembling with excitement. He was excited
himself. Miss Woodville stood just behind them, and a faint tinge of
color appeared in her pale face.
"The Yankees are getting ready to charge," said the colonel. "At the
point we see they will not yet rush forward. They will, of course, wait
for a preconcerted signal, and then their whole army will attack at
once. But the woods and ravines are filled with their skirmishers,
trying to clear the way. I can see them in hundreds and hundreds, and
their rifles make sheets of flame. All the time the cannon are firing
over their heads. Heavens, what a bombardment! I've never before
listened to its like!"
"What are our troops doing, father?" asked Miss Woodville.
"Very little yet, and they should do little. Pemberton is showing more
judgment than I expected of him. The defense should hold its fire until
the enemy is well within range and that's what we're doing!"
The colonel leaned a little more heavily upon him, but Dick steadied
himself. The old man still kept the glasses to his eyes, and swept them
back and forth in as wide an arc as their position permitted. The hills
shook with the thunder of the cannon, and the brilliant sun, piercing
through the smoke, lighted up the vast battle line.
"The attack of the skirmishers grows hotter," said the old man. "The
thickets blaze with the fire of their rifles. Heavy masses of infantry
are moving forward. Now they stop and lie on their arms. They are
awaiting the word from other parts of the field, and it shows with
certainty that a grand attack is coming. Two batteries of eight guns
each have come nearer. I did not think it possible for the fire of their
cannon to increase, but it has done so. Young sir, would you care to
look through the glasses?"
"I believe not, Colonel. I will trust to the naked eye and your report."
It was an odd feeling that made Dick decline the glasses. If he looked
he must tell to
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