Chapter XXIII: The Battle

And now there breathed that haunted air
The sons of sires who conquered there,
With arms to strike and souls to dare
As quick, as far as they!

· · · · ·

He woke to die ‘mid flame and smoke,
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke,
And death shots falling thick and fast
As lightning from a mountain cloud.—FITZ GREEN HALLECK.

“There is our new rendezvous,” said Colonel Goldsborough, pointing to the distant range of wooded hills, where the autumn foliage was now glowing redly under the rays of the descending sun, and towards which the whole band was now moving leisurely.

But they had not marched more than a mile when Mutchison, who had been riding in advance of the whole line, came suddenly galloping back to the rear with every mark of hurry and excitement.

He drew rein beside his superior officer, and handed him a field-glass, saying hastily:

“Colonel, look there!”

“What is it?” inquired Goldsborough, raising the instrument to his eyes.

“There, at our rendezvous: the cloud of dust, the smoke, and hark! there is the sound of musketry! There must be a battle going on there, Colonel!”

“THERE IS!” hurriedly exclaimed Goldsborough. “Mutchison, dash forward. Send half a dozen men back to guard the prisoners, who must remain here while we join battle. Then get the band in order. Form on company front; and march! I will be with you as soon as I have provided for the safety of these!”

Mutchison wheeled his horse and galloped forward, carrying with him a cloud of dust, in which he soon disappeared.

Goldsborough looked around for a place of safety in which to bestow his captive bride and her clerical companion.

Nothing better offered than a grove of trees, in the midst of which sparkled a cool spring, now, however, rather choked with fallen autumn leaves.

He led his party there and requested them to dismount.

The poor parson very willingly obeyed, and got off the horse of which he was heartily tired.

“I suppose there is nothing left now but to submit to our fate and trust in Providence,” said Elfie, as she also dismounted and seated herself upon a heap of dried leaves that the wind had drifted against the roots of a great oak tree.

“Yes, my dear young lady, that is it! We are in the power of the men of Belial, but the arm of the Lord is mighty to deliver us,” murmured Mr. Simmons, when Colonel Goldsborough had passed out of hearing; he—Goldsborough—having taken the bridles of the two horses and led them to the other extremity of the grove, where he secured them to the trees.

“You see he has led away our horses so as to prevent us from taking advantage of the battle to escape by flight!” said Elfie, despondently.

“I see! I see, my dear young lady! but the arm of the Lord is strong to save. But hush! here comes the son of Beelzebub!” said the preacher, as the guerrilla leader returned.

And in a few minutes the near galloping of other horses was heard, and the six men sent back by Mutchison rode up, in a cloud of dust.

“Guard these two prisoners until farther orders!” said Colonel Goldsborough, as he put spurs to his horse and dashed onward after his band.

He flew over the plain at a tremendous rate of speed, yet it was some ten minutes before he came up with his band.

They were now within half a mile of their rendezvous, where the black, heavy clouds of dust and smoke, and the continuous sound of firing, assured them that a fierce battle was going on.

On reaching his band, Colonel Goldsborough did but stop long enough to breathe his horse. And then he commanded a halt, and raising his hand cried out:

“Attention, my men! The rendezvous has been surprised by the enemy! The Free Sword seems hard beset! We must free him! To the rescue, then!”

A shout from the men responded to this speech.

“Attention! Forward! March!”

The guerrillas galloped as gayly onwards towards the field of blood “as to a festival.”

As they approached the scene of action the evidences of a fearful engagement encircled them.

Ascending the hill, they entered into a dense atmosphere of black and sulphurous smoke and dust through which sabres glanced and firearms blazed, and horses and riders loomed and vanished, and from which arose the confused sounds of the shouts of men, the neighs of steeds, the clash of steel, the report of musketry, and the shrieks and groans of the wounded and the dying.

Over fallen steeds and writhing men—through flashing sabre strokes and whistling rifle shots—through smoke and dust—through blood and fire—the guerrillas dashed, striking here and there—striking everywhere where the blue coat of a Union soldier could be seen in the chaos.

It was a general melee, more terrible in its effects than any pitched battle could have been. It was a mutual massacre, in which no quarter was asked or given. Such was the engagement at —— Hill, long to be remembered in the bloody annals of the Valley.

Neither Monck nor any of his officers or men were to be seen anywhere on the field. It seemed evident that his forces had not joined those of Colonel Corsoni, whose command had engaged the Federals alone.

In the thickest carnage might be seen the form of the Free Sword, an inspired form—a very Demon of Destruction—dealing death-blows right and left—striking everywhere, and always with fatal effects; struck at from every quarter, but always in vain! He seemed to bear a charmed life, and to wield an invincible weapon.

And by his side—oh, sight of fear and horror!—by his side, in the fiercest of the fight, rode his devoted wife! Why she was there—why he permitted her to be there—no one could tell. Whether he had no wish or no power to withstand the force and fire of her will that clung to him so desperately for life or death, or whether they had been surprised too suddenly to be separated, is not known. All that is certainly known is that she was with him throughout that bloody day. She seemed to ride scathless through that scene of slaughter, unharming and unharmed! Who, indeed, would have willingly hurt her?

At the moment that Goldsborough with his band rode up, the Free Sword and his two hundred faithful followers were fighting desperately against an overwhelming force.

Goldsborough brought to his relief nearly two hundred more men. Yet still the united forces of the two leaders numbered less than four hundred ill-armed and ill-disciplined guerrillas; and these were opposed to the whole regiment, of Rosenthal’s well-trained veteran cavalry, armed with their death-dealing Henry rifles—those sixteen shooters, that augmented their fighting powers more than ten-fold.

The guerrillas fought well, fearlessly, recklessly.

But who could doubt the issue?

Again and again the voice of the young Federal commander was heard above the din of battle, calling upon those brave, misguided men to surrender and save themselves.

In vain! He might as well have roared to the roaring winds!

The battle raged with increasing fury. The waves of war rolled east, rolled west, as the hard-pressed guerrillas fell back, or rallying for a space, pushed forward.

At length, towards sunset, the guerrillas began to scatter and fly.

Colonel Goldsborough tried to rally them, but in vain. Their desperate courage had suddenly failed. Goldsborough looked around for the cause of this panic; and he discovered it in the absence of their idolized leader!

It was true. Neither the brave Free Sword nor his heroic wife could anywhere be seen on the field. The fiery spirit that had animated and inspired the whole band was gone. And fear had fallen upon his followers. And all who were not dead, wounded or prisoners, were flying in all directions hotly pursued by the Federals.

Colonel Goldsborough, seeing that the day was lost, wheeled around, put spurs to his horse, and dashed down the hill-side, in the direction of the grove where he had left Elfie and the parson under guard.