Traveller (39 page)

By this time you could see a bit more, and as Dave was saddling me up I could make out soldiers—long lines of ‘em—way off acrost the fields in the distance. I had a horrible feeling they must be those people. Marse Robert hadn't even been dressed when all the trouble started, but didn't take him long. He came out in full uniform and wearing his sword, mounted me and off we went, out into those fields.

Well, they was Blue men, all right—a whole passel. You could see ‘em coming on quite steady, and nothing at all to stop ‘em, ‘far as I could see. I wondered what in tarnation we was a-goin' to do, but Marse Robert, he jest sat there watching them and talking quietly to Major Venable and some of the others was with us.

Suddenly a little bunch of officers came galloping back to us. They was Red Shirt's people. Champ was in the middle of ‘em, but Red Shirt warn't riding him. The soldier riding him was a fella called Sergeant Tucker. This Sergeant Tucker was well knowed for a real wildcat. He was Red Shirt's special man, who always stuck right ‘longside him in any fighting, to do what he wanted. Champ had told me more'n once't that Tucker was one fella who didn't give a damn for nothing and was always ready to eat twenty Blue men before breakfast. ‘Peared that one time, when he'd wanted a new horse, he'd jest rode out and shot a Blue cavalryman, helped hisself and rode back. Leastways, so Champ told me.

“Champ!” I said as they came up to us. “Champ! For land's sake, what's happened? Where's Red Shirt?”

“Red Shirt's dead,” said Champ. I could see now that for once't he was shook up real bad.

“Can't be!” I said. “What d'you mean?”

“Red Shirt and Tucker—he was on Merlin—jest the two of us—we was riding ahead alone,” says Champ. “We come up with two of the enemy, and Red Shirt calls out to them to surrender. They fired at us. They hit Red Shirt—killed him stone dead, right there on my back. His body fell out o' the saddle. When Tucker seed what had happened, he come ‘longside and grabbed my bridle. He pulled both of us—me and Merlin—round and got us away. But then he got off Merlin and left him loose. He rode me back.”

Sergeant Tucker had evidently been telling Marse Robert the same thing. I'd never knowed Marse Robert to cry before—although I think maybe he did that time when they told him Jine-the-Cavalry had been killed. Anyway, he shed tears now. I could feel him sob where he was a-sitting.

I was thinking, Where's it going to end? How much more do we have to pay to beat those people? Cap-in-His-Eyes, Jine-the-Cavalry and now Red Shirt. Vot-you-voz, too—he'd been wounded real bad and out of it ever since the summer before; I'd heared that much from Skylark. It had been Old Pete, too, near as a touch; he'd never be like he was. I don't mind telling you, Tom, I felt shook up bad. General Red Shirt— it didn't seem possible he could be shot dead in the saddle like any soldier out on patrol!

Well, the Blue men was still a-coming on, and a minute or two later one of their shells went straight through our headquarters house. By this time we'd got our guns up and all round outside it, blazing away, and this was holding ‘em up considerable. Marse Robert—well, you could tell he was real angry now. He simply wouldn't move from where we was at. The house caught fire, burning like a haystack, and enemy bullets began falling all round us; but still Marse Robert wouldn't quit. He waited there, and he stuck there till the last moment. In the end he had to put me into a gallop so we could get away. He very soon pulled up, though. Marse Robert didn't no ways care for running from the Blue men—he never did. He was still sitting looking back at ‘em when a shell burst only a few feet behind us. It killed one of the headquarters horses—a nice old gelding called Crockett; I'd knowed him a long time. I was actually spattered with his blood, poor fella. Marse Robert turned me again, but even then he still waited a few moments, looking back over his shoulder. I could hear him actually growling, he was that mad. I believe if'n he'd had his way he'd have turned me round and charged those people by hisself. But of course he was the General, warn't he? He had to be thinking of the Army. So we come out of it, and back among our own fellas.

“This is a bad business, Colonel,” says Marse Robert to one of them. “The line's been stretched till it's broken.”

All morning the fighting went on something desperate. Marse Robert rode me back only as far as a bit of a hump standing up above a creek, and there he dismounted and stood looking out at what was happening to our fellas. Him an' me, we was under sech heavy fire ourselves we might jest as well have been out there with ‘em. I was ‘specting to be blowed to bits any minute, like Crockett. Time and again horsemen'd come up to us. They was asking—beseeching Marse Robert—for reinforcements; I could tell that. Marse Robert has to tell ‘em he ain't got none. I remember at last he says to some officer, real sharp, “I've received that message several times, and I've no troops to send!” The colonel, he jest salutes and says, “I can't help it, General, how often you've heared it, I've got to give you General Longstreet's message.” So then Marse Robert tells him he's sorry he spoke sharp; but jest the same he hadn't got no more fellas—nary a one.

Well, we held ‘em off, Tom, though to this day I don't know how. I got sort of confused with all the bangs and the men and horses falling all around, but I recollect that in the afternoon me and Marse Robert come back out of it, and he rode me off to some house a little ways outside town. He'd got his plans, had Marse Robert—I knowed that— and he meant to spend the evening giving ‘em out to our generals and the rest.

So that was the third time that hadn't worked. And ‘twas that same night that our Army marched out of the city to find a better place to beat the Blue men. And I'll tell you, Tom, that looking around at what there was to be seed, I was honestly beginning to wonder whether we
would
find it. I mean, all our cavalry was close as dammit to exhaustion, and as for the guns—well, a lot of the carriages was dropping to pieces and being dragged along by wore-out old horses in rotten harness. I should have knowed better, shouldn't I? Fancy the likes of me doubting Marse Robert! Still, I figure you'd have had your own doubts if you'd ‘a been there.

Our fellas marched real quiet out of the city, I guess so as not to let those people know we was going. Marse Robert rode me by one of the bridges acrost the river and drew up where the road forked. I soon got the general idea, ‘cause I recognized a lot o' the horses—yeah, and some of the soldiers, too. Old Pete and his ‘uns was to go by one road and General Gordon's outfit by the other—so they wouldn't foul each other up, you see. Marse Robert and me, we waited there dead silent while they went by—no drums, no orders, no cussin'—they could have been ghosts in the dark; jest the wagons creaking and the Blue men's guns way off in the distance. One lot after another—I knowed ‘em all— and the state they was in, Tom, it would have upset even you; rags an' mud, skin an'bones. Some of the horses nickered to me—they all knowed me, you see—but I kept quiet, ‘cording to orders. When they'd all of them gone by, and not before, me and Marse Robert came on with headquarters.

By the time it got light, the Army was well out of town. The fellas was resting ‘long the roadsides, and ‘course Marse Robert and me was going round as usual, talking to them and cheering them up. They was in good spirits, mostly—glad to get out of them miserable trenches, I reckon, and be marching off somewhere, even if they didn't know where. I figured the whole idea was real smart of Marse Robert. Now, you see, Tom, the Blue men would have to leave their own trenches and come out where we could fight them good and proper and give ‘em a real hammering.

Jest the same, the roads was awful muddy, and ‘course our Army using ‘em didn't make things no better. I seed plenty of fellas caked in mud to the knees, and you simply couldn't tell whether they had any boots or not. Evidently we warn't getting on fast ‘nuff, and I could tell this was worrying Marse Robert. Although the enemy didn't seem to be anywheres round this morning, he plainly wanted us to press on— maybe so's we could catch them when they warn't expecting us; I couldn't say. All the same, he hadn't the heart to speak sharp to them poor fellas scrabbling and crawling through the mud, although two-three times he stopped to tell drivers to have more patience with their mules. I never had much time for mules, Tom, as I've told you, but I felt real sorry for ‘em now. They jest warn't in no state to shift the loads, and that was all ‘twas to it. The drivers had to call on any fellas that was around to come and push.

All the same, ‘bout midday something happened which showed me Marse Robert still knowed we had the Blue men halfway up a tree. Him and Old Pete and some more of headquarters felt easy ‘nuff to stop off for dinner at a fine, smart house. ‘Twas jest like old times. We-all left the column and rode ‘bout a mile through the woods, and there was this real handsome place—white pillars, gardens, ladies and gentlemen walkin' about and talking, darkies serving drinks and standing by to take the horses—after all we'd been through during the last months ‘twas like a dream. Marse Robert hadn't slept all night, of course, but jest the same he offs with his hat and shakes hands like he was real fresh and we had nothing to do ‘cept enjoy ourselves.

A darky led me off to a fine, clean stable and I found myself ‘longside a pretty young mare, name of Emerald. This Emerald was in lovely condition, full of energy, coat groomed and shining like a meadow on a summer morning. I could tell she didn't cotton much to me. She didn't know nothing ‘bout the fighting—nothing at all—I don't think she even knowed there
was
any fighting. She figured I must be some old courier horse dropped by with the mail, or something of that. When I asked her how she'd avoided being took for the Army she didn't even know what I was talking ‘bout. But after a while, from her talk, I caught on that the house belonged to a big local fella, Judge Cox, and she was his wife's horse. That was how she'd been able to dodge the column. I couldn't dislike her, and anyway the darky stableman groomed me a real treat and gave me the best feed I'd had in months. I felt ready to bust.

But all too soon the time came to go on. I was led back round to the front and Marse Robert came out, talking with a pretty young lady and smelling like he'd had a real good meal for a change. I guess we-all felt in better spirits. The young lady, she petted me, stroked my nose and said she'd heared so much ‘bout the famous Traveller. Marse Robert told her I was worth as much to him as two regiments, and a lot more nonsense o' that sort. They was funning around for quite a few minutes ‘fore we finally rode off through the woods and back to the column of march.

After the judge's house, and being with that Emerald, you could see a lot plainer what we must look like to anyone as hadn't seed us before: the broke-up lines of tattered fellas limping through the mud, and the starving teams, lot of ‘em collapsing as they tried to pull the rickety, broke-down wagons. There was stragglers, too, plenty of ‘em, all the way back long the road. We looked a real bunch of drifters, Tom, an' that's no more'n the truth. Rags and bones a-marching by packs.

That night we crossed another river—that's to say, the Army did. You never seed sech a turmoil in all your life. There was too many at the one bridge, and all the roadway and the fields and banks was crammed up with soldiers and guns and horses waiting to get acrost. They was all night crossing. Me and Marse Robert waited, going from one place to another, talking to as many fellas as we could, cheering folks up. The Blue men had found out by this time what we-all was up to—leastways, I reckon they had, ‘cause every now and then I could hear firing away in the distance.

I guess it must ‘a been ‘bout two hours after sunrise ‘fore me and Marse Robert crossed that bridge. I remember a young officer riding up to report to Marse Robert. As he was speaking, Marse Robert looks him up and down and then he says, “Did those people surprise you this morning?” The young fella ‘pears kinda throwed for a loop, but he answers no, certainly not. Marse Robert says that by the look of him they must have. He points at his boots, one trouser leg in and t'other out. The lad felt ‘shamed—you could see that. He never said ‘nother word—jest saluted and turned his horse to ride off. Marse Robert calls him back and tells him, kind as you like, that it's important he should take care and steer clear of anything that might make our fellas think the Blue men had scared him. He had to set an example.

Well, the Army went a-marching on. Marse Robert and me, we was along with Old Pete. It felt like old times, ‘ceptin' I warn't the only one could have eaten his own harness. Jest the same, everyone seemed in real fighting spirits. There was plenty of laughing and joking—singing, too. I knowed it was ‘cause we was on our way to beat the Blue men once't and for all. ‘Fact, I couldn't help wondering how those people had ever s'posed it would be any good trying to beat Marse Robert, The whole idea was jest plain crazy.

I can't recollect everything after all this time, but I'll tell you something, Tom, that I certainly do remember—something that happened that same evening. By this time the enemy cavalry had started feeling round us—kind of hanging ‘bout and watching for a chance; only they seemed a-scairt of us. Old Pete kept trying to get at ‘em, but ‘peared like he couldn't make it, and after a while Marse Robert took me out to have a look around for hisself. I trotted a ways down the road towards the firing, and then, jest as we came up to where our cavalry was engaged, a passel of Blue men came galloping towards us. ‘Course, our fellas went straight for ‘em and Marse Robert, he natcherly jined in, ‘cause this time there warn't nobody to stop him. The Blue men, they went riding off real fast—knowed what was good for ‘em—'ceptin' for one fella, who come dashing straight on towards us. Four or five of our men was jest going to fire when Marse Robert, in his deep voice, calls out, “Don't shoot! Don't shoot!” Someone caught the Blue man's bridle and stopped him. He was wounded bad and hadn't been able to control his horse, but Marse Robert had been the only one to see it.