The Drummer Boy Part 32

XXVII.

THE SKIRMISH.

The night and the storm pa.s.sed, and day dawned on Roanoke Island.

No reveille roused up the soldiers. Silently from their drenched, cold beds, they arose and prepared for the rough day's work before them.

The morning was chill and wet, the rain still dripping from the trees.

Far in the cypress swamps the lone birds piped their matin songs--the only sounds in those dim solitudes, so soon to be filled with the roar of battle.

Ten thousand men had been landed from the fleet; and now ten thousand hearts were beating high in antic.i.p.ation of the conflict.

The line of advance lay along the road, which run in a northerly direction through the centre of the island. Across this road the rebels had erected their most formidable battery, with seemingly impenetrable swamps on either side, an ample s.p.a.ce cleared for the play of their guns in front, and felled trees all around.

General Foster's brigade took the advance, having with it a battery of twelve-pounders from the fleet, to operate on the enemy's front. General Reno followed, with orders to penetrate on the left the frightful lagoons and thickets which protected the enemy's flank. A third column, under General Parke, brought up the rear.

General Foster rode forward with his staff into the woods, and made a reconnoissance. The line of pickets opened to let the brigade pa.s.s through. Not a drum was beat. Slowly, in silence, occasionally halting, regiment succeeded regiment, in perfect order, with heavy m.u.f.fled tramp.

Along the forest road they pa.s.sed, the men laughing and joking in high spirits, as if marching to a parade. The still, beautiful light of the innocent morning silvered the trees. The glistering branches arched above; the glistening stream of steel flowed beneath. Wreaths of vines, beards of moss, trailed their long fringes and graceful drapery from the boughs. The breeze shook down large s.h.i.+ning drops, and every bush a soldier touched threw off its dancing shower.

"'And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pa.s.s,'" remarked Seth Tucket.

"Come, none o' your solemncholy poetry to-day," said Jack Winch. "I never felt so jolly in my life. There's only one kind of poetry I want to hear, and that's the pouring of our volleys into the rebels."

"The pouring of their volleys into us ain't quite so desirable, I suppose," said Harris.

"There wouldn't be much fun without some danger," said Jack.

"If that's fun, I guess Winch 'll have fun enough before we're through with this job," remarked Ellis.

"What a long road it is!" cried Jack, impatiently.

"We'll come to a short turn in it pretty soon," said At.w.a.ter, significantly.

"Well, Abe has spoken!" said Jack. "His mouth has been shut so tight all along, I didn't think 'twould open till the time comes for him to cry quarter."

"At.w.a.ter means to let his gun speak for him to-day," said Harris.

"What do we go so slow for? Why don't we hurry on?" said Jack. "I want to get at the rebels some time this week. I don't believe they----"

He was going to say that he didn't believe they would wait to fire a shot. But even as he spoke the confutation of his opinion resounded in the woods. Crack--crack--crack--went the rebel muskets; then followed a volley from the troops in advance.

"Why didn't you finish your sentence, Jack?" said Harris, with a smile.

"They're at it!" whispered Jack, in a changed voice.

"A little skirmis.h.i.+ng," said At.w.a.ter, quietly.

Crack, crack, again; and--_sing!_--came a bullet over the heads of the men, cutting the leaves as it pa.s.sed.

"Too high," laughed Gray, coolly.

"Halt!" come the command, which John Winch, for one, obeyed with amazing promptness.

"Hallo, Jack!" said Ellis; "who taught you to halt before the word is given?"

"Are they going to keep us standing here all day?" said Jack, presently.

"He's as wide awake now to be on the move as he was to stop," laughed Harris.

"Well," said Jack, nervously, "who likes to stand still and be shot at?"

"There's no shooting at us," replied Harris. "When it comes to that, we'll see the fun you talk about."

Fun! Jack's countenance looked like any thing but fun just then.

He gained some confidence by observing the officers coolly giving their orders, and the men coolly executing them, as if nothing of importance had happened, or was expected to happen.

Captain Edney deployed his company, pressing forward into the swamp.

Bushes and fallen logs impeded their progress; the mud and water were in places leg-deep; and the men were permitted to pick their way as best they could. Suddenly out of a thicket a bullet came whizzing. Another and another followed. One tore the bark from a tree close by Captain Edney's head.

"Keep cool, boys!" he said; "and aim low."

He then gave the order, "Commence firing!" and the front rank men, halting, poured their volley into the thicket--their first shot at the enemy. Whilst they were reloading, the second rank advanced and delivered their fire.

"Don't waste a shot, my brave fellows!" cried the captain. "Fire wherever you see signs of a rebel. Always aim at _something_."

This last order was a very useful one; for many, in the excitement of coming for the first time under fire, were inclined to let off their pieces at random in the air; and the deliberation required to take aim, if only at a bush behind which a rebel might be concealed, had an excellent effect in quieting the nerves.

Yet some needed no such instruction. At.w.a.ter was observed to load and fire with as steady a hand and as serene a countenance as if he had been practising at a target. Others were equally calm and determined. There were some, however, even of the brave, who, from const.i.tutional excitability, and not from any cowardice of spirit, exhibited symptoms of nervousness. Their cheeks paled and their hands shook. But, the momentary tremor past, these men become perhaps the most resolute and efficient of all.

Such a one was Frank; who, though in the rear of the regiment, with the ambulance corps, felt his heart beat so wildly at the first whiz of a bullet over his head, that he was afraid he was going to be afraid.

Was Jack Winch another of the sort? It was pitiful to see him attempt to load his piece. He never knew how it happened, but, instead of a cartridge, he got hold of the tompion,--called by the boys the "tompin,"--used to stop the muzzle of the gun and protect it from moisture, and was actually proceeding to ram it down the barrel before he discovered his mistake!

"Take a cartridge, Winch!" said Captain Edney, who was coolly noting the conduct of his men.

So Jack, throwing away the stopper, took a cartridge. But his hand shook _around_ the muzzle of the gun so that it was some time before he could insert the charge. He had already dodged behind a tree, the men being allowed to shelter themselves when they could.

"Dry ground is scarce as hen's teeth!" remarked Seth Tucket, droll as ever, looking for a good place to stand while he was loading.

"Fun, ain't it?" said Ned Ellis, who had sought cover by the same tree with Winch.

He stood at Jack's left hand, and a little behind him. Jack, too much agitated to respond to the unseasonable jest, threw up the barrel of his piece, in order to prime, when a bullet came, from n.o.body knew where, aslant, and put an end to jesting for the present.

Jack felt a benumbing shock, and dropped his gun, the stock of which had been s.h.i.+vered in his grasp. At the same instant Ellis dropped his gun also, and threw out his hands wildly, exclaiming,--