Chapter VIII: Part 8

Such were the scenes which the coming war excited in the far South, such the fervid enthusiasm with which the coming conflict for Southern independence was hailed. So vast was the number of volunteers, in companies and in regiments, each eager to be accepted, that the Hon. Leroy P. Walker, the first Secretary of War of the Confederacy, was fairly overwhelmed by the flood of applicants that poured in on him day and night. Their captains and colonels waylaid him on the streets to urge the immediate acceptance of their services, and he was obliged to seek his office by roundabout ways to avoid the flood of importunities. It is said that before the Confederate government left Montgomery for Richmond, about three hundred and sixty thousand volunteers, very many of them from the best element of the Southern population, had offered to devote their lives and fortunes to their country's cause.

Many striking examples of this outburst of enthusiasm and patriotic devotion might be adduced, but we must content ourselves with one, cited as an instance in point by General Gordon. This was the case of Mr. W. C. Heyward, of South Carolina, a West Point graduate and a man of fortune and position. The Confederate government was no sooner organized than Mr. Heyward sought Montgomery, tendering his services and those of a full regiment enlisted by him for the war. Such was the pressure upon the authorities, and so far beyond the power of absorption at that time the offers of volunteers, that Mr. Heyward sought long in vain for an interview with the Secretary of War. When this was at last obtained he found the ranks so filled that it was impossible to accept his regiment. Returning home in deep disappointment, but with his patriotism unquenched, this wealthy and trained soldier joined the Home Guards and died in the war as a private in the ranks.

Such was the unanimity with which the sons of the South, hosts of them armed with no better weapons than old-fashioned flint and steel muskets, double-barrelled shot-guns, and long-barrelled squirrel rifles, rushed to the defence of their States, with a spontaneous and burning enthusiasm that has never been surpassed. The impulse of self-defence was uppermost in their hearts. It was not the question of the preservation of slavery that sustained them in the terrible conflict for four years of desolating war. It was far more that of the sovereignty of the States. The South maintained that the Union formed under the Constitution was one of consent and not of force; that each State retained the right to resume its independence on sufficient cause, and that the Constitution gave no warrant for the attempt to invade and coerce a sovereign State. It was for this, not to preserve slavery, that the people sprang as one man to arms and fought as men had rarely fought before.

_STUART'S FAMOUS CHAMBERSBURG RAID._

Of all the minor operations of the Civil War, the one most marked at once by daring and success was the pioneer invasion of the Northern States, the notable Chambersburg raid of the most famous cavalry leader of the Confederacy, General J. E. B. Stuart. This story of bold venture and phenomenal good fortune, though often told, is worth giving again in its interesting details.

The interim after the battle of Sharpsburg or Antietam was one of rest and recuperation in both the armies engaged. During this period the cavalry of Lee's army was encamped in the vicinity of Charlestown, some ten miles to the southward of Harper's Ferry. Stuart's head-quarters were located under the splendid oaks which graced the lawn of "The Bower," whose proprietor, Mr. A. S. Dandridge, entertained the officers with an open-hearted and genial hospitality which made their stay one of great pleasure and enjoyment.

There were warriors in plenty who would not have been hasty to break up that agreeable period of rest and social intercourse, but Stuart was not of that class. He felt that he must be up and doing, demonstrating that the Army of Northern Virginia had not gone to sleep; and the early days of October, 1862, saw a stir about head-quarters which indicated that something out of the ordinary was afoot. During the evening of the 8th the officers were engaged in a lively social intercourse with the ladies of "The Bower," the entertainment ending in a serenade in which the banjo and fiddle took chief part. Warlike affairs seemed absent from the thoughts of all, with the exception that the general devoted more time than usual to his papers.

With the morning of the 9th a new state of affairs came on. The roads suddenly appeared full of well-mounted and well-appointed troopers, riding northward with jingling reins and genial calls, while the cheery sound of the bugle rang through the fresh morning air. There were eighteen hundred of these horsemen, selected from the best mounted and most trustworthy men in the corps, for they were chosen for an expedition that would need all their resources of alertness, activity, and self-control, no less a one than an invasion of Pennsylvania, a perilous enterprise in which the least error might expose them all to capture or death.

On reaching the appointed place of rendezvous, at Darksville, Stuart issued an address in which he advised his followers that the enterprise in which they were to engage demanded the greatest coolness, decision, and courage, implicit obedience to orders, and the strictest order and sobriety. While the full purpose of the expedition must still be kept secret, he said, it was one in which success would reflect the highest credit on their arms. The seizure of private property in the State of Maryland was strictly prohibited, and it was to be done in Pennsylvania only under orders from the brigade commanders, individual plundering being strongly forbidden.

These preliminaries adjusted, the march northward began, the command being divided into three detachments of six hundred men each, under the direction of General Wade Hampton, Colonel W. H. F. Lee, and Colonel W. E. Jones. A battery of four guns accompanied the expedition. It was with high expectations that the men rode forward, the secrecy of the enterprise giving it an added zest. Most of them had followed Stuart in daring rides in the earlier months of that year, and all were ready to follow wherever he chose to lead.

Darkness had fallen when they reached Hedgesville, the point on the Potomac where it was designed to cross. Here they bivouacked for the night, a select party of some thirty men being sent across the river, their purpose being to capture the Federal picket on the Maryland side. In this they failed, but the picket was cut off from its reserve, so that the fugitives were not able to report the attack. Day had not dawned when all the men were in their saddles, and as soon as word of the result of the night's enterprise was received, the foremost troops plunged into the river and the crossing began. It was completed without difficulty, and Colonel Butler, leading the advance, rode briskly forward to the National turnpike which joins Hancock and Hagerstown.

Along this road, a few hours before, General Cox's division of Federal infantry had passed, Butler coming so close to his rear that the stragglers were captured. But a heavy fog covered the valley and hid all things from sight, so that Cox continued his march in ignorance that a strong body of Confederate cavalry was so close upon his track. On Fairview Heights, near the road, was a Federal signal-station, which a squad was sent to capture. The two officers in charge of it escaped, but two privates and all its equipments were taken.

Yet, despite all efforts at secrecy, the march had not gone on unseen. A citizen had observed the crossing and reported it to Captain Logan of the Twelfth Illinois Cavalry, and the news spread with much rapidity. But there was no strong force of cavalry available to check the movement, and Stuart's braves passed steadily forward unopposed. Their line of march was remote from telegraph or railroad, and the Pennsylvania farmers, who did not dream of the war invading their fields, were stricken with consternation when Stuart's bold riders crossed Mason and Dixon's line and appeared on their soil.

It was hard for them to believe it. One old gentleman, whose sorrel mare was taken from his cart, protested bitterly, saying that orders from Washington had forbidden the impressment of horses, and threatening the vengeance of the government on the supposed Federal raiders. A shoe merchant at Mercersburg completely equipped Butler's advance guard with foot-wear, and was sadly surprised when paid with a receipt calling on the Federal government to pay for damages. While nothing was disturbed in Maryland, horses were diligently seized in Pennsylvania, the country on both sides of the line of march being swept clean of its farm animals. Ladies on the road, however, were not molested, and the men were strictly prohibited from seizing private property--even from taking provisions for themselves.

Chambersburg, the goal of the expedition, was reached on the evening of the 10th, after a day's hard ride. So rapid and well conducted had been the journey that as yet scarce one enemy had been seen; and when the town was called on to surrender within thirty minutes, under penalty of a bombardment, resistance was out of the question; there was no one capable of resisting, and the troops were immediately marched into the town, where they were drawn up in the public square.

The bank was the first place visited. Colonel Butler, under orders from his chief, entered the building and demanded its funds. But the cashier assured him that it was empty of money, all its cash having been sent away that morning, and convinced him of this by opening the safe and drawers for his inspection. Telegraphic warning had evidently reached the town. Butler had acted with such courtesy that the cashier now called the ladies of his family, and bade them to prepare food for the men who had made the search. That the captors of the town behaved with like courtesy throughout we have the evidence of Colonel A. K. McClure, subsequently editor of the Philadelphia _Times_, who then dwelt in the near vicinity of Chambersburg. Though a United States officer and subject to arrest or parole, and though he had good opportunity to escape, he resolved to stay and share the fate of his fellow-townsmen. We quote from his description of the incidents of that night. After speaking of an interview he had--as one of the committee of three citizens to surrender the town--with General Hampton, and the courteous manner of the latter, he proceeds:

"With sixty acres of corn in shock, and three barns full of grain, excellent farm and saddle horses, and a number of best blooded cattle, the question of property was worthy of a thought. I resolved to stay, as I felt so bound by the terms of surrender, and take my chances of discovery and parole....

"I started in advance of them for my house, but not in time to save the horses. I confidently expected to be overrun by them, and to find the place one scene of desolation in the morning. I resolved, however, that things should be done soberly, if possible, and I had just time to destroy all the liquors about the house. As their pickets were all around me I could not get it off. I finished just in time, for they were soon upon me in force, and every horse in the barn, ten in all, was promptly equipped and mounted by a rebel cavalryman. They passed on towards Shippensburg, leaving a picket force on the road.

"In an hour they returned with all the horses they could find, and dismounted to spend the night on the turnpike in front of my door. It was now midnight, and I sat on the porch observing their movements. They had my best corn-field beside them and their horses fared well. In a little while one entered the yard, came up to me, and after a profound bow, politely asked for a few coals to start a fire. I supplied him, and informed him as blandly as possible where he would find wood conveniently, as I had dim visions of camp-fires made of my palings. I was thanked in return, and the mild-mannered villain proceeded at once to strip the fence and kindle fires. Soon after a squad came and asked permission to get some water. I piloted them to the pump, and again received a profusion of thanks....

"About one o'clock, half a dozen officers came to the door and asked to have some coffee made for them, offering to pay liberally for it in Confederate scrip. After concluding a treaty with them on behalf of the colored servants, coffee was promised them, and they then asked for a little bread with it. They were wet and shivering, and, seeing a bright, open wood-fire in the library, they asked permission to enter and warm themselves until their coffee should be ready, assuring me that under no circumstances should anything in the house be disturbed by their men. I had no alternative but to accept them as my guests until it might please them to depart, and I did so with as good grace as possible.

"Once seated round the fire all reserve seemed to be forgotten on their part, and they opened a general conversation on politics, the war, the different battles, the merits of generals of both armies. They spoke with entire freedom upon every subject but their movement into Chambersburg. Most of them were men of more than ordinary intelligence and culture, and their demeanor was in all respects eminently courteous. I took a cup of coffee with them, and have never seen anything more keenly relished. They said that they had not tasted coffee for weeks before, and that then they had paid from six to ten dollars per pound for it. When they were through they asked whether there was any coffee left, and finding that there was some, they proposed to bring some more officers and a few privates, who were prostrated by exposure, to get what was left. They were, of course, as welcome as those present, and on they came in squads of five or more until every grain of brown coffee was exhausted. Then they asked for tea, and that was served to some twenty more.

"In the mean time a subordinate officer had begged of me a little bread for himself and a few men, and he was supplied in the kitchen. He was followed by others in turn, until nearly a hundred had been supplied with something to eat or drink. All, however, politely asked permission to enter the house, and behaved with entire propriety. They did not make a single rude or profane remark, even to the servants. In the mean time the officers who had first entered the house had filled their pipes from the box of Killikinick on the mantel--after being assured that smoking was not offensive--and we had another hour of free talk on matters generally....

"At four o'clock in the morning the welcome blast of the bugle was heard, and they rose hurriedly to depart. Thanking me for the hospitality they had received, we parted, mutually expressing the hope that should we ever meet again, it would be under more pleasant circumstances. In a few minutes they were mounted and moved into Chambersburg. About seven o'clock I went into town....

"General Stuart sat on his horse in the centre of the town, surrounded by his staff, and his command was coming in from the country in large squads, leading their old horses and riding the new ones they had found in the stables hereabouts. General Stuart is of medium size, has a keen eye, and wears immense sandy whiskers and moustache. His demeanor to our people was that of a humane soldier. In several instances his men commenced to take private property from stores, but they were arrested by General Stuart's provost-guard. In a single instance only, that I heard of, did they enter a store by intimidating the proprietor. All of our stores and shops were closed, and with a very few exceptions were not disturbed."

This was certainly not like the usual behavior of soldiers on foreign soil, and the incident at once illustrates the strict control which General Stuart held over his men and the character of the men themselves, largely recruited, as they were, from the higher class of Southern society. Though Colonel McClure evidently felt that the lion's claws lay concealed under the silken glove, he certainly saw no evidence of it in the manners of his unbidden guests.

Return was now the vital question before General Stuart and his band. Every hour of delay added to the dangers surrounding them. Troops were hastily marching to cut off their retreat; cavalry was gathering to intercept them; scouts were watching every road and every movement. Worst of all was the rain, which had grown heavy in the night and was now falling steadily, with a threat of swelling the Potomac and making its fords impassable. The ride northward had been like a holiday excursion; what would the ride southward prove?

With the dawn of day the head of the column set out on the road towards Gettysburg, no damage being done in the town except to railroad property and the ordnance store-house, which contained a large quantity of ammunition and other army supplies. This was set on fire, and the sound of the explosion, after the flames reached the powder, came to the ears of the vanguard when already at a considerable distance on the return route.

At Cashtown the line turned from the road to Gettysburg and moved southward, horses being still diligently collected till the Maryland line was crossed, when all gathering of spoil ceased. Emmittsburg was reached about sunset, the hungry cavaliers there receiving a warm welcome and being supplied with food as bountifully as the means of the inhabitants permitted.

Meanwhile, the Federal military authorities were busy with efforts to cut off the ventursome band. The difficulty was to know at what point on the Potomac a crossing would be sought, and the troops were held in suspense until Stuart's movements should unmask his purpose. General Pleasanton and his cavalry force were kept in uncertain movement, now riding to Hagerstown, then, on false information, going four miles westward, then, halted by fresh orders, turning east and riding to Mechanicstown, twenty miles from Hagerstown. They had marched fifty miles that day, eight of which were wasted, and when they halted, Stuart was passing within four miles of them without their knowledge. Midnight brought Pleasanton word of Stuart's movements, and the weary men and horses were put on the road again, reaching the mouth of the Monocacy about eight o'clock the next morning. But most of his command had dropped behind in that exhausting ride of seventy-eight miles within twenty-eight hours, only some four hundred of them being still with him.

While the Federals were thus making every effort to cut off the bold raiders and to garrison the fords through a long stretch of the Potomac, Stuart was riding south from Emmittsburg, after a brief stop at that place, seeking to convey the impression by his movements that he proposed to try some of the upper and nearer fords. His real purpose was to seek a crossing lower down, so near to the main body of the Federals that they would not look for him there. Yet the dangers were growing with every moment, three brigades of infantry guarded the lower fords, Pleasanton was approaching the Monocacy, and it looked as if the bold raider was in a net from which there could be no escape.

Stuart reached Hyattstown at daylight on the 12th, having marched sixty-five miles in twenty hours. The abundance of captured horses enabled him to make rapid changes for the guns and caissons and to continue the march without delay. Two miles from Hyattstown the road entered a large piece of woodland, which served to conceal his movements from observation from any signal-tower. Here a disused road was found, and, turning abruptly to the west, a rapid ride was made under cover.

Soon after the open country was reached again a Federal squadron was encountered; but it was dispersed by a charge, and from this point a rapid ride was made for White's Ford, the nearest available crossing. All now seemed to depend upon whether this ford was occupied in force by the enemy. As Colonel Lee approached it this question was settled; what appeared a large body of Federal infantry was in possession, posted on a steep bluff quite close to the ford. It seemed impossible to dislodge it, but foes were closing up rapidly from behind, and if all was not to be lost something must be done, and done at once.

To attack the men on the bluff seemed hopeless, and before doing so Lee tried the effect of putting a bold face on the matter. He sent a messenger under a flag of truce, telling the Federal commander that Stuart's whole force was before him, that resistance was useless, and calling on him to surrender. If this was not done in fifteen minutes a charge in force would be made. The fifteen minutes passed. No sign of yielding appeared. Lee, with less than a forlorn hope of success, opened fire with his guns and ordered his men to advance. He listened for the roar of the Federal guns in reply, when a wild shout rang along the line.

"They are retreating! Hurrah! they are retreating!"

Such was indeed the case. The infantry on the bluff were marching away with flying flags and beating drums, abandoning their strong position without a shot. A loud Confederate cheer followed them as they marched. No shot was fired to hinder them. Their movement was the salvation of Stuart's corps, for it left an open passage to the ford, and safety was now assured.

But there was no time to lose. Pleasanton and his men might be on them at any minute. Other forces of the enemy were rapidly closing in. Haste was the key to success. One piece of artillery was hurried over the dry bed of the canal, across the river ford, and up the Virginia bluff, where it was posted to command the passage. Another gun was placed so as to sweep the approaches on the Maryland side, and soon a stream of horsemen were rapidly riding through the shallow water to Virginia and safety. With them went a long train of horses captured from Pennsylvania farms.

Up came the others and took rapidly to the water, Pelham meanwhile facing Pleasanton with a single gun, which was served with all possible rapidity. But there was one serious complication. Butler with the rear-guard had not yet arrived, and no one knew just where he was. Stuart, in deep concern for his safety, sent courier after courier to hasten his steps, but no tidings came back.

"I fear it is all up with Butler," he said, despondently. "I cannot get word of him, and the enemy is fast closing in on his path."

"Let me try to reach him," said Captain Blackford, to whom the general had spoken.

After a moment's hesitation Stuart replied,--

"All right! If we don't meet again, good-by, old fellow! You run a desperate chance of being raked in."

Away went Blackford at full speed, passing the lagging couriers one by one, and at length reaching Butler, whom he found halted and facing the enemy, in complete ignorance of what was going on at the front. He had his own and a North Carolina regiment and one gun.

"We are crossing the ford, and Stuart orders you up at once," shouted Blackford. "Withdraw at a gallop or you will be cut off."

"Very good," said Butler, coolly. "But how about that gun? I fear the horses can't get it off in time."

"Let the gun go. Save yourself and your men."

Butler did not see it in that light. Whip and spur were applied to the weary artillery horses, and away they went down the road, whirling the gun behind them, and followed at a gallop by Butler and his men. As they turned towards the ford they were saluted by the fire of a Federal battery. Further on the distant fire of infantry from down the river reached them with spent balls. Ten minutes later and the rear-guard would have been lost. As it was, a wild dash was made across the stream and soon the last man stood on Virginia soil. The expedition was at an end, and the gallant band was on its native heath once more.

Thus ended Stuart's famous two days' ride. The first crossing of the Potomac had been on the morning of the 10th. The final crossing was on the morning of the 12th. Within twenty-seven hours he had ridden eighty miles, from Chambersburg to White's Ford, with his artillery and captured horses, and had crossed the Potomac under the eyes of much superior numbers, his only losses being the wounding of one man and the capture of two who had dropped out of the line of march--a remarkable record of success, considering the great peril of the expedition.

The gains of the enterprise were about twelve hundred horses, but the great strain of the ride forced the men to abandon many of their own. Stuart lost two of his most valued animals--Suffolk and Lady Margrave--through the carelessness of his servant Bob, who, overcome by too free indulgence in ardent spirits, fell out of the line to take a nap, and ended by finding himself and his horses in hostile hands.

The value of the property destroyed at Chambersburg, public and railroad, was estimated at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars; a few hundred sick and wounded soldiers were paroled, and about thirty officials and prominent citizens were brought off as prisoners, to be held as hostages for imprisoned citizens of the Confederacy.

On the whole, it was eminently a dare-devil enterprise of the type of the knightly forays of old, its results far less in importance than the risk of loss to the Confederacy had that fine body of cavalry been captured. Yet it was of the kind of ventures calculated to improve the morale of an army, and inspire its men to similar deeds of daring and success. Doubtless it gave the cue to Morgan's later and much less fortunate invasion of the North.

_FORREST'S CHASE OF THE RAIDERS._

Foremost in dash and daring among the cavalry leaders of the Confederacy was Lieutenant-General Nathan B. Forrest, a hero in the saddle, some of whose exploits were like the marvels of romance. There is one of his doings in particular which General Lord Wolseley says "reads like a romance." This was his relentless pursuit and final capture of the expedition under Colonel Abel D. Streight, one of the most brilliant deeds in the cavalry history of the war. Accepting Wolseley's opinion, we give the story of this exploit.

In General Rosecrans's campaign against General Bragg, it was a matter of importance to him to cut the railroad lines and destroy bridges, arsenals, etc., in Bragg's rear. He wished particularly to cut the railroads leading from Chattanooga to Atlanta and Nashville, and thus prevent the free movement of troops. The celebrated Andrews expedition of scouts, described in a previous volume of this series, failed in an effort to do this work. Colonel Streight, a stalwart, daring cavalry leader, made a second effort to accomplish it, and would doubtless have succeeded but for the bulldog-like persistence with which "that devil, Forrest" clung to his heels.

Colonel Streight's expedition was made up of four regiments of mounted infantry and two companies of cavalry, about two thousand men in all. Rome, Georgia, an important point on the railroad from Chattanooga to Atlanta, was its objective point. The route to be traversed included a barren, mountainous track of country, chosen from the fact that its sparse population was largely composed of Union sympathizers. But the road was likely to be so steep and rocky, and forage so scarce, that mules were chosen instead of horses for the mounts, on account of their being more surefooted and needing less food.

The expedition was sent by steamboat from Nashville, Tennessee, to Eastport, Alabama, which place was reached on the 19th of April, 1863. This movement was conducted with all possible secrecy, and was masked by an expedition under General Dodge, at the head of a force of some ten thousand men. The unfortunate feature about the affair was the mules. On their arrival at Eastport these animals, glad to get on solid land again, set up a bray that trumpeted the story of their arrival for miles around, and warned the cavalry of General Rodney, who had been skirmishing with General Dodge, that new foes were in the field.

When night fell some of Rodney's cavalry lads crept into the corral, and there, with yells and hoots and firing of guns and pistols, they stampeded nearly four hundred of the mules. This caused a serious delay, only two hundred of the mules being found after two day's search, while more time was lost in getting others. From Eastport the expedition proceeded to Tuscumbia, General Rodney stubbornly resisting the advance. Here a careful inspection was made, and all unfit men left out, so that about fifteen hundred picked men, splendidly armed and equipped, constituted the final raiding force.

But the delay gave time for the news that some mysterious movement was afoot to spread far and wide, and Forrest led his corps of hard riders at top-speed from Tennessee to the aid of Rodney in checking it. On the 27th he was in Dodge's front, helping Rodney to give him what trouble he could, though obliged to fall back before his much greater force.

Streight was already on his way. He had set out at midnight of the 26th, in pouring rain and over muddy roads. At sunset of the next day he was thirty-eight miles from the starting-point. On the afternoon of the 28th the village of Moulton was reached without trace of an enemy in front or rear. The affair began to look promising. Next morning the mule brigade resumed its march, heading east towards Blountsville.

Not until the evening of the 28th did Forrest hear of this movement. Then word was brought him that a large body of Union troops had passed Mount Hope, riding eastward towards Moulton. The quick-witted leader guessed in a moment what all this meant, and with his native energy prepared for a sharp pursuit. In all haste he picked out a suitable force, had several days' rations cooked for the men and corn gathered for the horses, and shortly after midnight was on the road, leaving what men he could spare to keep Dodge busy and prevent pursuit. His command was twelve hundred strong, the most of them veterans whose metal had been tried on many a hard-fought field, and who were ready to follow their daring leader to the death, reckless and hardy "irregulars," brought up from childhood to the use of horses and arms, the sturdy sons of the back country.

Streight was now in the ugly mountain country through which his route lay, and was advancing up Sand Mountain by a narrow, stony, winding road. He had two days the start of his pursuer, but with such headlong speed did Forrest ride, that at dawn on the 30th, when the Federals were well up the mountain, the boom of a cannon gave them the startling notice that an enemy was in pursuit. Forrest had pushed onward at his usual killing pace, barely drawing rein until Streight's camp-fires came in sight, when his men lay down by their horses for a night's rest.

Captain William Forrest, a brother of the general, had been sent ahead to reconnoitre, and in the early morning was advised of the near presence of the enemy by as awful a noise as human ears could well bear, the concentrated breakfast bray of fifteen hundred hungry mules.

The cannon-shot which had warned Colonel Streight that an enemy was near, was followed by the yell of Captain Forrest's wild troopers, as they charged hotly up the road. Their recklessness was to be severely punished, for as they came headlong onward a volley was poured into them from a ridge beside the road. Their shrewd opponent had formed an ambuscade, into which they blindly rode, with the result that Captain Forrest fell from his horse with a crushed thigh-bone, and many of his men and horses were killed and wounded before they could get out of the trap into which they had ridden.

The attack was followed up by Forrest's whole force. Edmonson's men, dismounted, advanced within a hundred yards of the Federal line, Roddy and Julian rode recklessly forward in advance, and Forrest's escort and scouts occupied the left. It was a precipitous movement, which encountered a sudden and sharp reverse, nearly the whole line being met with a murderous fire and driven back. Then the Federals sprang forward in a fierce charge, driving the Confederates back in confusion over their own guns, two of which were captured with their caissons and ammunition.

The loss of his guns threw Forrest into a violent rage, in which he made the air blue with his forcible opinions. Those guns must be taken back, he swore, at the risk of all their lives. He bade every man to dismount and tie their horses to saplings--there were to be no horse-holders in this emergency. Onward swept the avengers, but to their surprise and chagrin only a small rear-guard was found, who fled on their mules after a few shots. Streight, with the captured guns, was well on the road again, and Forrest's men were obliged to go back, untie their horses, and get in marching order, losing nearly an hour of precious time.

From this period onward the chase was largely a running fight. Forrest's orders to his men were to "shoot at everything blue and keep up the scare." Streight's purpose was to make all haste forward to Rome, outriding his pursuers, and do what damage he could. But he had to deal with the "Rough Riders" of the Confederate army, men sure to keep on his track day and night, and give him no rest while a man on mule-back remained.

Forrest's persistence was soon shown. His advance troopers came up with the enemy again at Hog's-back ridge an hour before dark and at once charged right and left. They had their own guns to face, Streight keeping up a hot fire with the captured pieces till the ammunition was exhausted, when, being short of horses, he spiked and abandoned the guns.

The fight thus begun was kept up vigorously till ten o'clock at night, and was as gallant and stubbornly contested as any of the minor engagements of the war, the echoes of that mountain desert repeating most unwonted sounds. General Forrest seemed everywhere, and so fearlessly exposed himself that one horse was killed and two were wounded under him, though he escaped unhurt. In the end Colonel Streight was taught that he could not drive off his persistent foe, and took to the road again, but twice more during the night he was attacked, each time repelling his foes by an ambuscade.

About ten o'clock the next morning Blountsville was reached. The Federals were now clear of the mountains and in an open and fertile country where food and horses were to be had. Both were needed; many of the mules had given out, leaving their riders on foot, while mules and men alike were short of food. It was the first of May, and the village was well filled with country people, who saw with dismay the Yankee troopers riding in and confiscating all the horses on which they could lay hands.

Streight now decided to get on with pack-mules, and the wagons were bunched and set on fire, the command leaving them burning as it moved on. They did not burn long. Forrest's advance came on with a yell, swept the Federal rear-guard from the village, and made all haste to extinguish the flames, the wagons furnishing them a rich and much-needed supply. Few horses or mules, however, were to be had, as Streight's men had swept the country as far as they could reach on both sides of the road.

On went the raiders and on came their pursuers, heading east, keeping in close touch, and skirmishing briskly as they went, for ten miles more. This brought them to a branch of the Black Warrior River. The ford reached by the Federals was rocky, and they had their foe close in the rear, but by an active use of skirmishers and of his two howitzers Straight managed to get his command across and to hold the ford until a brief rest was taken.

The Yankee troopers were not long on the road again before Forrest was over the stream, and the hot chase was on once more. The night that followed was the fourth night of the chase, which had been kept up with only brief snatches of rest and with an almost incessant contest. On the morning of the 2d the skirmishing briskly began again, Forrest with an advance troop attacking the Federal rear-guard, and fighting almost without intermission during the fifteen miles ride to Black Creek.

Here was a deep and sluggish stream walled in with very high banks. It was spanned at the road by a wooden bridge, over which Colonel Streight rushed his force at top speed, and at once set the bridge on fire, facing about with his howitzers to check pursuit. One man was left on the wrong side of the stream, and was captured by Forrest himself as he dashed up to the blazing bridge at the head of his men.

Colonel Streight might now reasonably believe that he had baffled his foe for a time, and might safely take the repose so greatly needed. The stream was said to be too deep to ford, and the nearest bridge, two miles away, was a mere wreck, impassable for horses. Forrest was in a quandary as to how he should get over that sluggish but deep ditch, and stood looking at it in dismay. He was obliged to wait in any event, for his artillery and the bulk of his command had been far outridden. In this dilemma the problem was solved for him by a country girl who lived near by, Emma Sanson by name. Near the burning bridge was a little one-storied, four-roomed house, in which dwelt the widow Sanson and her two daughters. She had two sons in the service, and the three women, like many in similar circumstances in the Confederacy, were living as best they could.

The girl Emma watched with deep interest the rapid flight, the burning of the bridge, and the headlong pursuit of the Confederate troop. Seeing Forrest looking with a dubious countenance at the dark stream, she came up and accosted him.

"You are after those Yankees?" she asked.

"I should think so," said Forrest, "and would give my best hat to get across this ugly ditch."

"I think you can do it," she replied.

"Aha! my good girl. That is news worth more than my old hat. How is it to be done? Let me know at once."

"I know a place near our farm where I have often seen cows wade across when the water was low. If you will lend me a horse to put my saddle on, I will show you the place."

"There's no time for that; get up behind me," cried Forrest.

In a second's time the alert girl was on the horse behind him. As they were about to ride off her mother came out and asked, in a frightened tone, where she was going. Forrest explained and promised to bring her back safe, and in a moment more was off. The ride was not a long one, the place sought being soon reached. Here the general and his guide quickly dismounted, the girl leading down a ravine to the water's edge, where Forrest examined the depth and satisfied himself that the place might prove fordable.

Mounting again, they rode back, now under fire, for a sharp engagement was going on across the creek between the Confederates and the Federal rear-guard. Forrest was profuse in his thanks as he left the quick-witted girl at her home. He gave her as reward a horse and also wrote her a note of thanks, and asked her to send him a lock of her hair, which he would be glad to have and cherish in memory of her service to the cause.

The Lost Ford, as the place has since been called, proved available, the horses finding foothold, while the ammunition was taken from the caissons and carried across by the horsemen. This done, the guns and empty caissons were pulled across by ropes, and soon all was in readiness to take up the chase again.

Colonel Streight had reached Gadsden, four miles away, when to his surprise and dismay he heard once more the shouts of his indefatigable foemen as they rode up at full speed. It seemed as if nothing could stop the sleuth-hounds on his track. For the succeeding fifteen miles there was a continual skirmish, and, when Streight halted to rest, the fight became so sharp that his weary men were forced to take to the road again. Rest was not for them, with Forrest in their rear. Streight here tried for the last time his plan of ambuscading his enemy, but the wide-awake Forrest was not to be taken in as before, and by a flank movement compelled the weary Federals to resume their march.

All that night they rode despondently on, crossing the Chattanooga River on a bridge which they burned behind them, and by sunrise reaching Cedar Bluff, twenty-eight miles from Gadsden. At nine o'clock they stopped to feed, and the worn-out men had no sooner touched the ground than they were dead asleep. Forrest had taken the opportunity to give his men a night's rest, detaching two hundred of them to follow the Federals and "devil them all night." Streight had also detached two hundred of his best-mounted men, bidding them to march to Rome and hold the bridge at that place. But Forrest had shrewdly sent a fast rider to the same place, and when Russell got up he found the bridge strongly held and his enterprise hopeless.

When May 3 dawned the hot chase was near its end. Forrest had given his men ten hours' sleep while Streight's worn-out men were plodding desperately on. This all-night's ride was a fatal error for the Federals, and was a main cause of their final defeat. The short distance they had made was covered by Forrest's men, fresh from their night's sleep, in a few hours, and at half-past nine, while the Federals were at breakfast, the old teasing rattle of small-arms called them into line again. About the same time word came from Russell that he could not take the bridge at Rome, and news was received that a flanking movement of Confederates had cut in between Rome and the Yankee troopers.

The affair now looked utterly desperate, but the brave Streight rallied his men on a ridge in a field and skirmishing began. So utterly exhausted, however, were the Federals that many of them went to sleep as they lay in line of battle behind the ridge while looking along their gun barrels with finger on trigger.

The game was fairly up. Forrest sent in a flag of truce, with a demand for surrender. Streight asked for an interview, which was readily granted.

"What terms do you offer?" asked Streight.

"Immediate surrender. Your men to be treated as prisoners of war, officers to retain their side-arms and personal property."

During the conversation Streight asked, "How many men have you?"

"Enough here to run over you, and a column of fresh troops between you and Rome."

In reality Forrest had only five hundred men left him, the remainder having been dropped from point to point as their horses gave out and no new mounts were to be had. But the five hundred made noise enough for a brigade, it being Forrest's purpose to conceal the weakness of his force.

As they talked a section of the artillery of the pursuers came in sight within a short range. Colonel Streight objected to this, and Forrest gave orders that the guns must come no nearer. But the artillerymen moved around a neighboring hill as if putting several small batteries into position.

"Have you many guns, general?" asked Streight.

"Enough to blow you all to pieces before an hour," was the grandiloquent reply.

Colonel Streight looked doubtfully at the situation, not knowing how much to believe of what he saw and heard. After some more words he said,--

"I cannot decide without consulting my officers."

"As you please," said Forrest, with a sublime air of indifference. "It will soon be over, one way or the other."

Streight had not all the fight taken out of him yet, but he found all his officers in favor of a surrender and felt obliged to consent. The men accordingly were bidden to stack their arms and were marched back into a field, Forrest managing as soon as he conveniently could to get his men between them and their guns. The officers were started without delay and under a strong escort for Rome, twenty miles away. On their route thither they met Captain Russell returning and told him of what had taken place. With tears in his eyes he surrendered his two hundred men.

Thus ended one of the most striking achievements of the Civil War. Forrest's relentless and indefatigable pursuit, his prompt overcoming of the difficulties of the way, and his final capture of Streight's men with less than half their force, have been commended by military critics as his most brilliant achievement and one of the most remarkable exploits in the annals of warfare.

The outcome of Colonel Streight's raid to the South was singularly like that of General Morgan's famous raid to the North. Morgan's capture, imprisonment, and escape were paralleled in Streight's career. Sent to Richmond, and immured in Libby Prison, he and four of his officers took part in the memorable escape by a tunnel route in February, 1864. In his report, published after his escape, he blames his defeat largely on the poor mules, and claims that Forrest's force outnumbered him three to one. It is not unlikely that he believed this, judging from the incessant trouble they had given him, but the truth seems established that at the surrender Forrest had less than half the available force of his foe.

_EXPLOITS OF A BLOCKADE-RUNNER._

There were no more daring adventures and hair-breadth escapes during the Civil War than those encountered in running the blockade, carrying sadly-needed supplies into the ports of the Confederacy, and returning with cargoes of cotton and other valuable products of the South. There was money in it for the successful, much money; but, on the other hand, there was danger of loss of vessel and cargo, long imprisonment, perhaps death, and only men of unusual boldness and dare-devil recklessness were ready to engage in it. The stories told by blockade-runners are full of instances of desperate risk and thrilling adventure. As an example of their more ordinary experience, we shall give, from Thomas E. Taylor's "Running the Blockade," the interesting account of his first run to Wilmington harbor.

This town, it must be premised, lies some sixteen miles up Cape Fear River, at whose principal entrance the formidable Fort Fisher obliged the blockading fleet to lie out of the range of its guns, and thus gave some opportunity for alert blockade-runners to slip in. Yet this was far from safe and easy. Each entrance to the river was surrounded by an in-shore squadron of Federal vessels, anchored in close order during the day, and at night weighing anchor and patrolling from shore to shore. Farther out was a second cordon of cruisers, similarly alert, and beyond these again gunboats were stationed at intervals, far enough out to sight by daybreak any vessels that crossed Wilmington bar at high tide in the night. Then, again, there were free cruisers patrolling the Gulf Stream, so that to enter the river unseen was about as difficult as any naval operation could well be. With this preliminary statement of the situation, let us permit Mr. Taylor to tell his story.

"The 'Banshee's' engines proved so unsatisfactory that, under ordinary conditions, nine or ten knots was all we could get out of her; she was therefore not permitted to run any avoidable risks, and to this I attribute her extraordinary success where better boats failed. As long as daylight lasted a man was never out of the cross-trees, and the moment a sail was seen the 'Banshee's' stern was turned to it till it was dropped below the horizon. The look-out man, to quicken his eyes, had a dollar for every sail he sighted, and if it were seen from the deck first he was fined five. This may appear excessive, but the importance in blockade-running of seeing before you are seen is too great for any chance to be neglected; and it must be remembered that the pay of ordinary seamen for each round trip in and out was from L50 to L60.

"Following these tactics, we crept noiselessly along the shores of the Bahamas, invisible in the darkness, and ran on unmolested for the first two days out [from the port of Nassau], though our course was often interfered with by the necessity of avoiding hostile vessels; then came the anxious moment on the third, when, her position having been taken at noon to see if she was near enough to run under the guns of Fort Fisher before the following daybreak, it was found there was just time, but none to spare for accidents or delay. Still, the danger of lying out another day so close to the blockaded port was very great, and rather than risk it we resolved to keep straight on our course and chance being overtaken by daylight before we were under the fort.

"Now the real excitement began, and nothing I have ever experienced can compare with it. Hunting, pig-sticking, steeple-chasing, big-game shooting, polo--I have done a little of each--all have their thrilling moments, but none can approach 'running a blockade;' and perhaps my readers may sympathize with my enthusiasm when they consider the dangers to be encountered, after three days of constant anxiety and little sleep, in threading our way through a swarm of blockaders, and the accuracy required to hit in the nick of time the mouth of a river only half a mile wide, without lights and with a coast-line so low and featureless that, as a rule, the first intimation we had of its nearness was the dim white line of the surf.

"There were, of course, many different plans of getting in, but at this time the favorite dodge was to run up some fifteen or twenty miles to the north of Cape Fear, so as to round the northernmost of the blockaders, instead of dashing right through the inner squadron; then to creep down close to the surf till the river was reached; and this was the course the 'Banshee' intended to adopt.

"We steamed cautiously on until nightfall; the night proved dark, but dangerously clear and calm. No lights were allowed--not even a cigar; the engine-room hatch-ways were covered with tarpaulins, at the risk of suffocating the unfortunate engineers and stokers in the almost insufferable atmosphere below. But it was absolutely imperative that not a glimmer of light should appear. Even the binnacle was covered, and the steersman had to see as much of the compass as he could through a conical aperture carried almost up to his eyes.

"With everything thus in readiness, we steamed on in silence, except for the stroke of the engines and the beat of the paddle-floats, which in the calm of the night seemed distressingly loud; all hands were on deck, crouching behind the bulwarks, and we on the bridge, namely, the captain, the pilot, and I, were straining our eyes into the darkness. Presently Burroughs made an uneasy movement.

"'Better get a cast of the lead, captain,' I heard him whisper.

"A muttered order down the engine-room tube was Steele's reply, and the 'Banshee' slowed, and then stopped. It was an anxious moment while a dim figure stole into the fore-chains,--for there is always a danger of steam blowing off when engines are unexpectedly stopped, and that would have been enough to betray our presence for miles around. In a minute or two came back the report, 'Sixteen fathoms--sandy bottom with black specks.'

"'We are not in as far as I thought, captain,' said Burroughs, 'and we are too far to the southward. Port two points and go a little faster.'