Chapter XII: Andy Is Taken Prisoner

“We’re done for, and we might as well go straight home.”

It was Jerry Rowe who spoke. The youth sat on the top of a nail keg in the warehouse. He had been sleeping for a matter of ten hours, and his dreams, resulting from the shocks of the battle and an unusually large supper of pork and beans, had been far from lulling to his senses. He had groaned so dismally that Benny Bruce, already awake and as chipper as ever, had playfully poked him in the ribs with a drumstick and thus aroused him.

“Yes, sir, we’re done for. The Union is licked for good, and I’m for going home.”

“Jerry Rowe, you’re a croaker and a rebel!” burst from Benny’s lips. “Done for? Not much! Why, we’ve only been through the first round of this fight.”

“I don’t care--I don’t want any more such fighting. Why, I--I got near shot a hundred times!”

“And what did you come for, if not to be shot at?” went on Benny, witheringly, only Jerry did not wither. “Of all the cowards I ever saw, I think you’re the worst.”

“Hi! don’t you call me no coward!” snorted Jerry, and leaping from the nail keg he made after Benny. Catching the drummer by the collar, he was on the point of bumping Benny’s head against the warehouse wall, when Louis sprang up from his corner and interfered.

“Let Benny alone, Jerry,” cried the young soldier. “Let him alone, I say, or you’ll have me to deal with,” and he advanced with clenched fists and flashing eyes.

“He called me a coward,” muttered Jerry, but the look in Louis’s eyes caused him to drop his hold and Benny retreated.

“I heard what you said about being done for, and only a coward would talk in that fashion. We are not done for, and I’ll wager that the next time we meet the Confederates we’ll not show ’em our heels in such a lively fashion.”

“Right you are, Louis,” came from Moses Blackwell, who had just arisen and was stretching himself. “We went in without knowing what war was, that’s all. We’ll know better next time.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea for the captain to send Jerry home,” added another of the company. “He’s of no earthly use to anybody.”

At this Jerry grew very red. He wanted to “talk back,” but feeling himself too well known, muttered something under his breath, and a moment later strode out of hearing.

The immediate days which followed the return to Washington were gloomy enough, in spite of all that was done to put a bright face on the matter. A good many felt as Jerry did, that they were “done for” and might as well go home, and they walked dismally around in the rain, trying to communicate this feeling to others. Some thought Washington might be captured by the enemy before the week was out.

But those in authority did not remain idle long. As soon as possible after the disaster at Bull Run, Congress met and passed resolutions authorizing the President to call upon volunteers to enlist to the number of five hundred thousand, if so many were necessary. The call for additional troops was telegraphed to all of the Northern States. Four days after Bull Run, ten full regiments of infantry from Pennsylvania arrived at Washington to guard the capital from possible invasion. As at the time of the attack upon Fort Sumter, volunteer companies sprang up everywhere, faster than ever before, while many of the old commands were greatly reinforced. Nor was this all. General George B. McClellan, who had been highly successful in putting down the spirit of rebellion in West Virginia, was sent for to take command of the army in and about Washington, and he came on immediately and settled down to restore order and bring up the command to the high order of military excellence for which he was famous.

The Goreville Volunteers now found themselves supplied again with tents and camping in true military style near the banks of the Potomac. As soon as everything was in running order, Captain Paulding made a four days’ trip to Goreville, returning with twenty-two new volunteers and several packing cases filled with articles sent to the soldiers from home. Louis received an extra supply of clothing from his father and a small box of dainties from his mother and sisters. There was also a small pocket Bible, to replace one which had been lost on the field of Bull Run, and on the fly-leaf of this his mother had written a loving dedication, admonishing him to peruse the good Book daily and to live according to its precepts.

Month after month went by after this and the army in and about the capital lay inactive. There were small fights here and there along the river and some miles in the interior of Virginia, but they did not amount to much. In the meantime operations in the West went on spiritedly. In Tennessee, Grant had taken Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, and this cheering news caused much enthusiasm throughout the Union.

Louis had hoped to go home on furlough throughout Christmas week, but the permit could not be obtained, and he made the most of the holidays in camp, in company with Harry and the rest of his friends. Again the ladies of Washington showed their goodness of heart by sending out Christmas pies and other goodies, and never were gifts more appreciated by the waiting boys in blue.

In the meantime, Andy was far from idle. From Manassas the Montgomery Grays moved to Centerville and went into temporary camp. Every one was in the best of spirits throughout the Confederate army, and Andy and the others thought the orders to advance upon Washington might come at any moment. Recruits were coming in rapidly, and soon over fifty thousand men lay scattered within two days’ march of our capital.

“We ought to do something,” said Andy to Leroy Wellington, on a crisp, cool day in October. “It’s a shame to keep us idle when all the fellows are so anxious to fight.”

“I am with you, Andy; I’d be willing to risk almost anything for some sort of an encounter.”

The wishes of the pair were gratified a few days later. General McClellan, in order to learn how close the Confederates were, and what their actual numbers might be, ordered several thousands of the Union troops to Drainesville. This done, others were ordered to Ball’s Bluff, a rocky plateau overlooking the Potomac. Word of this was received by the Confederate leaders, and a counter demonstration ensued, with the result that the Union forces were caught on the Bluff to the number of nearly two thousand, one-half of whom were either killed or wounded.

The Montgomery Grays participated in this fight, and during this Andy had an experience which he was not likely to forget for many long days to come. The cavalry were moving slowly through the woods when the command came to turn to the right and take a narrow path leading close up to the river bank.

“Be careful, men,” cautioned Captain Montgomery. “This would be a hard road on foot, and on horseback it is ten times worse. Look out that you don’t have a tumble into the river.”

The command was still an eighth of a mile from the bluff, and the horsemen were moving along silently, when suddenly from the opposite shore there rang out half a dozen rifle shots in quick succession. Two of the cavalrymen were wounded and the horse immediately in front of Andy’s animal fell headlong, shot through the knee.

The fall of this horse caused Firefly to balk and rear. Andy caught him tightly by the reins, but this was useless, and a second later boy and animal were plunging through the brush to the river below!

“Andy Arlington has fallen overboard!” sang out Leroy, in consternation. There followed a great splash and two more rifle shots, and boy and horse disappeared from view.

But not for long. In a moment Firefly reappeared, snorting and blowing the water from his mouth and nostrils, and Andy came up shaking his head like a water spaniel. Both struck out for the shore, but the current was too strong for each, and they were swept onward and out of sight of those above.

“They are lost!” groaned Leroy, and the others thought he must be right, for going forward meant to move into the very teeth of the enemy.

Crack! Another rifle rang out, followed by the puff of smoke from a screen of green leaves. A Union sharpshooter had taken close aim and the bullet clipped one of Andy’s wet locks. But now he had gained Firefly’s side and he crouched down beside the faithful steed for protection.

Here and there in the stream were spots where the bottom could be touched. But the current would not let them stand still, even had they been so inclined, and Andy certainly was not. They were hurled forward until under the very edge of the bluff.

At that time the fighting upon Ball’s Bluff was at its highest pitch. Colonel Baker of the Union forces was making a desperate endeavor to retreat to the flatboats which had brought him across the river and the Confederate forces, posted in the woods surrounding the bluff, were pouring in their deadly fire with fearful effect. The cracking of firearms was incessant and reached Andy’s ears plainly, yet he hardly paid attention, for his one thought was to save himself and his faithful Firefly from drowning.

Opposite to Ball’s Bluff is a place called Conrad’s Ferry, and in the middle of the river between these two points lies a long, low, rocky bit of soil called Harrison’s Island. Some of the Federal troops were stationed on this island and it was to this Andy found himself drifting.

He had just waded out of the water and Firefly had done the same when he heard the sounds of voices just ahead of him. Then he saw the gleam of several rifle barrels.

“Halt! Throw up your hands!” came the command, and taken completely by surprise, and being in no condition, with water-soaked firearms, to defend himself, Andy complied.

“I guess you’re our prisoner, Grayback,” muttered a tall Union soldier as he strode forward. “What do you think about it?”

“It certainly looks that way,” replied Andy, trying to smile, although deeply chagrined over the turn affairs had taken.

“Do you take it quietly, Reb?”

“I reckon I’ll have to, Yank.”

“There’s where you show your sense. How did you get in the river?”

“My horse tumbled over the bank.”

“And like lots of you Southerners you couldn’t think of separating from your hoss-flesh, eh? All right, if you’re shot we’ll see to it that the hoss is buried with you. March!”

“Where to?”

“Straight ahead.”

“What place is this?”

“We ain’t in school now, Grayback. March!”

And as there was no help for it, Andy marched forward, with a soldier at each side of him and one in the rear, while a fourth led the dripping Firefly.

The march did not last over two minutes, when Andy found himself in the middle of a growth of trees. Here was stationed a detachment of Union soldiers, to cover any retreat from the bluff, should such a thing become necessary. Most of the soldiers were on the alert, watching the battle above them and guarding the flatboats, and they paid but scant attention to the arrival.

“It’s going tough with somebody,” Andy heard an under officer say, and then he was taken to one side and bound fast to a tree, while Firefly was tethered but a few feet away.