Chapter XIX: Andy Goes to Yorktown

When Andy came to his senses, he found himself lying on a cot in a farmhouse, quarter of a mile from where he had crossed the Potomac. The farmhouse was being used as a rebel headquarters, and half a dozen Confederate officers were present, making out various reports and attending to other duties of a military nature.

As soon as he felt strong enough, he told his story in detail, to which those present listened with lively interest. An officer knew of the advance to Ball’s Bluff of the Montgomery Grays and what the youth had to say was readily believed.

“I suppose you would like to go home as soon as possible,” said one of the officers. “We are going to send some army wagons southward to-morrow, and one of them can go down by the Lee Run road and you can ride with the teamster, if you wish.”

Andy gladly accepted the offer, and six o’clock in the morning found him homeward bound at the rate of four miles an hour, for the canvas-covered vehicle was loaded to the ash bows and the recent rains had rendered the roads almost impassable. Ordinarily the time would have dragged heavily, but the teamster was a jolly fellow, full of jokes and war stories, and he made Andy forget his troubles in spite of himself. They had their army rations with them and only stopped long enough to feed the horses. The teamster intimated several times that they might stop at a roadhouse, “to become better acquainted,” but as neither he nor Andy had money to spend this was not done.

Andy’s heart beat quickly as they approached the familiar surroundings of Lee Run. What a long while it seemed since he had gone away! He wondered how his father and the rest of the family were.

“Andy, my son! God be praised!” came from the stoop of the country store, and the next minute the young soldier was in his mother’s arms, while Grace was bobbing around, this side and that, looking for a chance to get at him.

“You have been shot and a prisoner!” gasped Grace. “Oh, Andy!”

“We thought you had been killed,” said the mother, with her eyes full of tears. “Captain Montgomery sent us word of how you had gone over the bluff while on horseback, and when Firefly came back alone--”

“Firefly!” burst out Andy, his face beaming more brightly than ever. “Is he really back?”

“Why, yes, he came back the next day. A man caught him who knew him and turned him over to Captain Montgomery. He is at home in the stable now.”

“I’m awfully glad, mother. I was afraid I would never see the dear old fellow again. And how is father?”

“As well as he can be expected. The war has upset him completely, and he cannot settle down to work as he used to do. But how pale and thin you are!”

“He’s only a ghost of himself,” added Grace. “But never mind, Andy,” she went on, warmly, “we’ll fatten you up again, and make you strong, and I’m proud to know what a hero I have for a brother!” and then he gave her such a hug and a kiss as only Andy could give--he was so whole-souled in everything he did.

Mrs. Arlington and Grace had been down to the store to do some trading and to hear the latest news from the seat of war. Around Washington, as we know, all was quiet, but in the west, especially in Missouri, matters were getting livelier every day. The news from this district did not arrive until three or four days old, there being no telegraph lines in use south of Cairo, but when it did come, how eagerly every line was perused, and what a running fire of comment ensued!

Soon the three were on their way to the dairy farm. As the old horse jogged along over the stony road, Andy related the particulars of his experience at Ball’s Bluff.

“I don’t mind telling you that I was scared,” he said to mother and sister, frankly, “but I wouldn’t have let the enemy know that for the world!”

“You’re your father over again,” said Mrs. Arlington, with a smile. “He was captured by the Mexicans at the time he was wounded, and they took off his leg very roughly, but he never winced--so some other soldiers told me.”

“Oh, I hope Andy never loses a leg,” cried Grace.

“If I do I’ll try to be as heroic as father was,” said the youth, gravely.

Mr. Arlington was as well pleased as the others had been to see his son once more. “I was afraid you had been shot and your body had drifted down into Chesapeake Bay,” he said, as he took both of Andy’s hands. “Tell me all about it,” and again the tale was told, the others as eager to hear as though not a word had been said before.

Christmas came and went and by that time Andy felt as well and strong as ever. Sometimes, when the weather was particularly raw, the place where the bullet wound had left a scar hurt him, “itched,” he said--a feeling plenty of veterans know only too well. But he never complained, being fearful it might hinder him from going to the front again.

In the meantime he had written to Captain Montgomery. The Grays were in winter quarters several miles back of the bank of the Potomac, and an equal distance south of Alexandria. To join them at this time would have been useless, and Andy received word that he might stay home and “get braced up” until the army moved again in the spring.

Now that he felt able to do so, the youth worked around the dairy as before, superintending the women and men and giving his father a much-needed holiday. But Andy’s heart was not in the task--it was with the Grays. He was impatient to rejoin them.

“A letter fo’ you, Massa Andrew,” said one of the slaves, one day in the spring.

Andy took the communication quickly. It was from the army, as the stamp in the corner of the envelope showed. He tore it open hastily, then rushed off to find his folks.

“I’ve got an order to join our cavalry at once! The Federals are getting ready for a move from Washington!” he cried, and then followed two hours of hustling, as he arranged his clothing, packed his saddlebags and had Firefly groomed his very best. The horse seemed to understand the order, too, for his brown eyes brightened and he snorted in approval.

“Take care of yourself, my boy,” said the fond mother. “Write as often as you can,” added the father. “Don’t let the Yankees catch you again,” chimed in Grace, and then all kissed him affectionately and followed him out on the verandah. Soon he was in the saddle, and with a last wave of the hand he galloped off and was lost to view among the trees.

The day was bright and warm. Andy was in the finest of spirits, so was Firefly, and mile after mile was paced off in the charger’s best style. At noon Andy stopped at a little tavern at a cross-roads for dinner, and here two other cavalrymen joined him, neither belonging to the Grays, but both bound southward. For the rest of the day the trio remained together, and this made the journey even more pleasant than before.

“The Yankees are going to give us a shake-up at Richmond, to my way of thinking,” said one of the cavalrymen. “I received a letter from a friend who lives down there last week, and he says the authorities are certain that Yankee spies are around sizing up the defenses.”

“Well, I reckon we have spies in Washington, too,” said Andy, and in this he was right. Long afterwards it was found that a spy occupying a confidential government position had given to the Confederates the first intimation that the Army of the Potomac was about leaving for an attack upon Richmond by way of the peninsula. It was such spy work which gave the Confederates time to throw up their defenses at Yorktown and elsewhere and thus hold General McClellan’s forces in check until further re-enforcements for the Confederate Capital could arrive.

“They won’t gain a thing by another attack out here,” put in the second cavalryman. “Why, companies of soldiers and bands of cavalry are springing up like mushrooms. We’re bound to wipe ’em out by mere force of numbers.”

“That may be true--just now,” returned Andy, seriously. “But what worries me is, sooner or later, they’ll be able to put more men in the field than ourselves. Why, the northern States have four times as many citizens as we have.”

“Yes, but they won’t fight like our boys will, Arlington. We are fighting not only for State rights but for our homes. A man can stay at home and fight for it better than he can go off and fight.”

“Another thing to remember,” added the other horseman. “They are blockading our ports so that we can’t send our cotton to the foreign countries that want it. It won’t be long before these foreign countries begin to kick, and if we put up our cotton they’ll furnish us with both money and men to show the Yankees their places. Cotton is king in America, and don’t you forget it.”

And so the talk went on. The remark about cotton was one heard everywhere, having even been mentioned in Congress before the Southern representatives and senators took leave of the Capitol. Cotton and tobacco did play a prominent part in the war, but they were not as powerful as some of the Confederate leaders imagined.

On the third day of his journey, Andy reached Camp Lee, as the spot where the Grays had gone into quarters was designated, out of honor to the illustrious line of Lees that have ever been prominent in Virginia chronicles from Revolutionary days on. The first person to rush up and shake him by the hand was Leroy Wellington, and Captain Montgomery and a dozen others followed.

“By jinks! but I thought you were done for when I saw you fall into the Potomac and float down to Harrison Island!” exclaimed Leroy. “You are a sight for sore eyes!” and he fairly hugged his friend. Andy had to tell his story twice, once to the officers and again to the mess he had joined.

The winter quarters of the Grays had been close to the shelter of a belt of timber land. Here the cavalrymen had built up houses of logs and mud, covered over in many cases with bits of canvas and whatever of boards came handy. The floors were strewn with pine brush, some brush, covered with rubber cloths, serving also for beds. Some of the houses had little ovens built of sun-dried bricks, and two had sheet-iron wood stoves. All told, the boys in gray had passed a fairly comfortable winter.

“The worst part was when we went out with the pickets,” said Leroy. “That week was a corker, and I was detailed up at the top of yonder hill, to carry the news back in case there was an alarm. It rained and snowed nearly all the time, and one night I was nearly blown away, and an old tree came down within ten yards of me and the horse. That was a close call, I can tell you, and I didn’t get over it for hours. You can thank your stars and bars you were at home in a warm bed.”

The orders to move came that night, at nine o’clock. “Roll call at five o’clock, boys; half an hour for breakfast, and the column moves at six sharp. Heavy marching orders. We are not coming back, but the general’s order is not to carry any more than necessary.”

“Heavy marching order, but don’t carry more than what is necessary,” mused Andy. “That looks as if we were going to get along as fast as possible. Where are we going, Bosdell?”

“Don’t know, but I heard something said about crossing the Rappahannock. My opinion is the Yankees are going to leave Washington by boat and land at Urbanna, and then try to march overland to Richmond.”

“We can get to Urbanna in one day, if we ride hard,” said Leroy. “But can enough of our troops get there?”

“We might stop them at the York River,” said Andy, “that is, if we could hurry and steal a march around their right flank.”

History has shown how near Bosdell’s guess was to being right. One of the first plans of the campaign was to land at Urbanna, situated some fifty miles above Fortress Monroe, but delays and military operations in the interior of Virginia made a change necessary, and the Union forces went down to the end of the peninsula, as previously described.

By five o’clock in the morning the camp was astir. The cavalrymen were having their horses and trappings looked after, the artillerymen were testing wheels, carriages, and harnesses, everybody was packing knapsacks and saddlebags and rolling up blankets. The day was foggy and cold, more than half the soldiers were out of humor, and grumblings were frequent. It was, “Where’s that strap?” “Who took my cake of soap?” “Did you see anything of my gun?” “Have I got to leave this folding chair behind, or can I tote it along?” “Have we got to move before the mail comes in?” Then came the call to fall in for breakfast; hot coffee, really fresh bread, and some fresh meat and beans were served out, and everyone felt better. It was the best meal Andy saw for many a weary day. The news had spread throughout the district that the “sodgers” were to move, and crowds came down to see them off, many bringing with them some dainties, in the shape of chicken, jam, hoecakes, and the like.

Promptly at six o’clock the bugles sounded, and the head of the column moved off. First came the advance guard, then the pioneers--men with heavy axes to clear the way--then a detachment of cavalry, and then the regular troops. After the troops and artillery came a small detachment of cavalry, detailed to “whip up” the stragglers, who, if they would not obey orders to “march on, and get where you belong,” were pitched into one of the guard wagons which followed for such purposes. Last of all came the wagon train, covered by another band of cavalry and by a small battery. On each side of this long column moved a line of skirmishers, keeping from two to five hundred feet from the road, to prevent any possible surprise from the right or the left, although, just then, no surprise was anticipated.

By a quarter to seven the Montgomery Grays fell into their proper place, and then ensued a long march lasting until nightfall, with half an hour’s rest at one o’clock for dinner. Three days’ rations had been served out to be eaten directly from the knapsack, with possibly a chance to kindle a brush fire and heat some coffee. The food was hardtack, coffee, pork and beans, nothing else. Regular army fare had again begun.

On the following day, in the middle of the afternoon, it began to rain. At first many thought it would be but a shower, but by the time a camp was selected, it was pouring down in torrents. The Grays found themselves booked for an eighth section of an open field, a portion of which had already been ploughed for spring planting.

“Here’s a picnic!” grumbled Leroy, as he dismounted, to find himself in water several inches deep. “How under the sun are we to pitch tents out here?”

“We are not going to do it under the sun, Leroy; we’re going to do it under the dripping clouds. Come on, pitch in. Ask Groman for a spade and we’ll soon have a trench dug in which the water can run off.”

Leroy went off, and Andy took charge of his horse. By the time he had seen that animal and Firefly cared for, Leroy was back and digging a trench about six inches deep. He cut it in the form of a square just a trifle larger than what the tent would cover. The others of the mess had gone foraging for tent poles. These were easily procured, and fifteen minutes later the canvas was up. It shed the rain into the trenches, and soon the water inside also found its way down into the hollow, and then the ground became fairly dry. But a night there, even with a rubber cloth and blankets, was far from home-like, and many a poor chap caught his death of cold. Andy was glad when morning came and the sun shone brightly through the flying clouds.

Four days later found the Montgomery Grays detached from the main body of the troops and on their way to Yorktown. Everything was bustle and excitement, and the youth felt that something was up. Soon the news came that the Union troops had landed at Fortress Monroe and were on their way up the peninsula. By the time Yorktown was reached the Confederates there had already thrown up a long line of breastworks which practically extended across the whole peninsula.

On the second day in camp on the outskirts of Yorktown, Captain Montgomery came to Andy with a folded paper.

“Arlington, here is an order I wish carried to General Magruder or his representative in the field. The orderlies are all away on other business. You will find Magruder’s command somewhere near Lee’s Mill. Make the most of your time,” and off Captain Montgomery dashed again.

Without losing a moment Andy placed the folded paper in his pocket and urged Firefly down the muddy road leading along the rear line of the Confederate forces. His progress was soon barred by a breakdown on the highway and he was compelled to make a détour through a woods. Thinking sooner to gain the point he was seeking, he kept on along the woods until he reached a small clearing, not far from the Warwick River and at a point known as Garrow’s Chimneys, because of three tall, burnt-out chimneys standing there. Just below him were located a long line of rifle pits belonging to the Confederate troops.

As he approached the spot, half a dozen rifle shots sounded out from the river, and then came the sudden booming of a cannon.

“The Yankees are fording the river!” was the cry. “They are just below Dam No. 1. They are going to break through the line if they can! We’re going to have hot work now!”

The remainder of the talk was cut short by a volley from the Warwick. The Union troops were coming true enough. Unable to restrain his curiosity, Andy rode forward to where a slight hill overlooked the stream. Hardly had he shown himself, when spat! a minie ball hit the tree beside him and clipped off a bit of bark. The young Confederate lost no time in returning to cover.