Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War Part 16

The brook in the dell they pa.s.s. One peers Between the leaves: "Ay, there's the place-- There, on the oozy ledge--'twas there We found the body (Blake's you know); Such whirlings, gurglings round the face-- Shot drinking! Well, in war all's fair-- So Mosby says. The bough--take care!"

Hard by, a chapel. Flower-pot mould Danked and decayed the shaded roof; The porch was punk; the clapboards spanned With ruffled lichens gray or green; Red coral-moss was not aloof; And mid dry leaves green dead-man's-hand Groped toward that chapel in Mosby-land.

They leave the road and take the wood, And mark the trace of ridges there-- A wood where once had slept the farm-- A wood where once tobacco grew Drowsily in the hazy air, And wrought in all kind things a calm-- Such influence, Mosby! bids disarm.

To ease even yet the place did woo-- To ease which pines unstirring share, For ease the weary horses sighed: Halting, and slackening girths, they feed, Their pipes they light, they loiter there; Then up, and urging still the Guide, On, and after Mosby ride.

This Guide in frowzy coat of brown, And beard of ancient growth and mould, Bestrode a bony steed and strong, As suited well with bulk he bore-- A wheezy man with depth of hold Who jouncing went. A staff he swung-- A wight whom Mosby's wasp had stung.

Burnt out and homeless--hunted long!

That wheeze he caught in autumn-wood Crouching (a fat man) for his life, And spied his lean son 'mong the crew That probed the covert. Ah! black blood Was his 'gainst even child and wife-- Fast friends to Mosby. Such the strife.

A lad, unhorsed by sliding girths, Strains hard to readjust his seat Ere the main body show the gap 'Twixt them and the read-guard; scrub-oaks near He sidelong eyes, while hands move fleet; Then mounts and spurs. One drop his cap-- "Let Mosby fine!" nor heeds mishap.

A gable time-stained peeps through trees: "You mind the fight in the haunted house?

That's it; we clenched them in the room-- An ambuscade of ghosts, we thought, But proved sly rebels on a house!

Luke lies in the yard." The chimneys loom: Some muse on Mosby--some on doom.

Less nimbly now through brakes they wind, And ford wild creeks where men have drowned; They skirt the pool, a void the fen, And so till night, when down they lie, They steeds still saddled, in wooded ground: Rein in hand they slumber then, Dreaming of Mosby's cedarn den.

But Colonel and Major friendly sat Where boughs deformed low made a seat.

The Young Man talked (all sworded and spurred) Of the partisan's blade he longed to win, And frays in which he meant to beat.

The grizzled Major smoked, and heard: "But what's that--Mosby?" "No, a bird."

A contrast here like sire and son, Hope and Experience sage did meet; The Youth was brave, the Senior too; But through the Seven Days one had served, And gasped with the rear-guard in retreat: So he smoked and smoked, and the wreath he blew-- "Any _sure_ news of Mosby's crew?"

He smoked and smoked, eying the while A huge tree hydra-like in growth-- Moon-tinged--with crook'd boughs rent or lopped-- Itself a haggard forest. "Come"

The Colonel cried, "to talk you're loath; D've hear? I say he must be stopped, This Mosby--caged, and hair close cropped."

"Of course; but what's that dangling there"

"Where?" "From the tree--that gallows-bough; A bit of frayed bark, is it not"

"Ay--or a rope; did _we_ hang last?-- Don't like my neckerchief any how"

He loosened it: "O ay, we'll stop This Mosby--but that vile jerk and drop!"[23]

By peep of light they feed and ride, Gaining a grove's green edge at morn, And mark the Aldie hills upread And five gigantic hors.e.m.e.n carved Clear-cut against the sky withdrawn; Are more behind? an open snare?

Or Mosby's men but watchmen there?

The ravaged land was miles behind, And Loudon spread her landscape rare; Orchards in pleasant lowlands stood, Cows were feeding, a c.o.c.k loud crew, But not a friend at need was there; The valley-folk were only good To Mosby and his wandering brood.

What best to do? what mean yon men?

Colonel and Guide their minds compare; Be sure some looked their Leader through; Dismsounted, on his sword he leaned As one who feigns an easy air; And yet perplexed he was they knew-- Perplexed by Mosby's mountain-crew.

The Major hemmed as he would speak, But checked himself, and left the ring Of cavalrymen about their Chief-- Young courtiers mute who paid their court By looking with confidence on their king; They knew him brave, foresaw no grief-- But Mosby--the time to think is brief.

The Surgeon (sashed in sacred green) Was glad 'twas not for _him_ to say What next should be; if a trooper bleeds, Why he will do his best, as wont, And his partner in black will aid and pray; But judgment bides with him who leads, And Mosby many a problem breeds.

The Surgeon was the kindliest man That ever a callous trace professed; He felt for him, that Leader young, And offered medicine from his flask: The Colonel took it with marvelous zest.

For such fine medicine good and strong, Oft Mosby and his foresters long.

A charm of proof. "Ho, Major, come-- Pounce on yon men! Take half your troop, Through the thickets wind--pray speedy be-- And gain their read. And, Captain Morn, Picket these roads--all travelers stop; The rest to the edge of this crest with me, That Mosby and his scouts may see."

Commanded and done. Ere the sun stood steep, Back came the Blues, with a troop of Grays, Ten riding double--luckless ten!-- Five horses gone, and looped hats lost, And love-locks dancing in a maze-- Certes, but soph.o.m.ores from the glen Of Mosby--not his veteran men.

"Colonel," said the Major, touching his cap, "We've had our ride, and here they are"

"Well done! how many found you there"

"As many as I bring you here"

"And no one hurt?" "There'll be no scar-- One fool was battered." "Find their lair"

"Why, Mosby's brood camp every where."

He sighed, and slid down from his horse, And limping went to a spring-head nigh.

"Why, bless me, Major, not hurt, I hope"

"Battered my knee against a bar When the rush was made; all right by-and-by.-- Halloa! they gave you too much rope-- Go back to Mosby, eh? elope?"

Just by the low-hanging skirt of wood The guard, remiss, had given a chance For a sudden sally into the cover-- But foiled the intent, nor fired a shot, Though the issue was a deadly trance; For, hurled 'gainst an oak that humped low over, Mosby's man fell, pale as a lover.

They pulled some gra.s.s his head to ease (Lined with blue shreds a ground-nest stirred).

The Surgeon came--"Here's a to-do"

"Ah!" cried the Major, darting a glance, "This fellow's the one that fired and spurred Down hill, but met reserves below-- My boys, not Mosby's--so we go!"

The Surgeon--bluff, red, goodly man-- Kneeled by the hurt one; like a bee He toiled. The pale young Chaplain too-- (Who went to the wars for cure of souls, And his own student-ailments)--he Bent over likewise; spite the two, Mosby's poor man more pallid grew.

Meanwhile the mounted captives near Jested; and yet they anxious showed; Virginians; some of family-pride, And young, and full of fire, and fine In open feature and cheek that glowed; And here thralled vagabonds now they ride-- But list! one speaks for Mosby's side.

"Why, three to one--your horses strong-- Revolvers, rifles, and a surprise-- Surrender we account no shame!

We live, are gay, and life is hope; We'll fight again when fight is wise.

There are plenty more from where we came; But go find Mosby--start the game!"

Yet one there was who looked but glum; In middle-age, a father he, And this his first experience too: "They shot at my heart when my hands were up-- This fighting's crazy work, I see"

But noon is high; what next do?

The woods are mute, and Mosby is the foe.

"Save what we've got," the Major said; "Bad plan to make a scout too long; The tide may turn, and drag them back, And more beside. These rides I've been, And every time a mine was sprung.

To rescue, mind, they won't be slack-- Look out for Mosby's rifle-crack."

"We'll welcome it! give crack for crack!

Peril, old lad, is what I seek"

"O then, there's plenty to be had-- By all means on, and have our fill"

With that, grotesque, he writhed his neck, Showing a scar by buck-shot made-- Kind Mosby's Christmas gift, he said.

"But, Colonel, my prisoners--let a guard Make sure of them, and lead to camp.

That done, we're free for a dark-room fight If so you say." The other laughed; "Trust me, Major, nor throw a damp.

But first to try a little sleight-- Sure news of Mosby would suit me quite."

Herewith he turned--"Reb, have a dram"

Holding the Surgeon's flask with a smile To a young scapegrace from the glen.

"O yes!" he eagerly replied, "And thank you, Colonel, but--any guile?

For if you think we'll blab--why, then You don't know Mosby or his men."

The Leader's genial air relaxed.