In Hostile Red Part 41

"Let 'em have it with the pistols!" cried the corporal to his men.

The pistols began to crack, and more holes appeared in the charging lines of hors.e.m.e.n. When a trooper was. .h.i.t hard in the breast or shoulder, up went his hands, and he fell back from his horse; if struck in the limbs, he fell forward and rolled off. Some horses that had lost their riders kept place in the charge and galloped on. Two or three others turned to one side, and ran about, neighing with fear and alarm, but would not leave the field. All sprang aside when they came to a wounded or dead man lying on the ground.

The cavalry company was not large, and many saddles were empty before it smashed into the gun and its defenders. Then a terrible tumult arose.

There was a confused melee of rearing horses, men leaning in the saddle, firing with pistols and slashing with sabres. Other men, brown and wiry, reaching over and bending forward among the wheels, striking upward with short heavy swords, killing horses and riders, and darting about like Indians, evading alike the hoofs of the horses and the slashes of the hors.e.m.e.n. There was a sickening whit of steel cutting through flesh, the gasp of last and hard-drawn breaths, and the sound of falls. The horses became entangled among the ropes, and stumbled over the gun and caisson, throwing their riders to the earth. The sinewy forms of their enemies slipped in and out like snakes, escaping the blows aimed from above, but steadily deepening the stains on their own red swords. Shouts, cries, and the stamp of horses' feet came from the whirling ball of fire and smoke, which began presently to throw forth men and horses. The cavalrymen who still rode, galloped away, and those who were on foot now, followed. Many of the horses were riderless, and they joined others that ran up and down the field, always keeping the battle in view. Then the ball split asunder entirely, and each half began to shred off in fragments; the dying combat, and the men, the living and the dead, rose out of it. The ground over which they had fought was a soaking red mire, and the wheels of cannon, caisson, and limber were sunk deep in it. But the cavalry had been beaten; entangled in the breastwork of the gun and its equipment and the prolonge ropes, they had been unable to withstand the slashing and the thrusting of the short artillery swords, and those who lived fled to the main line of their army, knowing their defeat and not seeking to hide it. A trumpet sounded the recall, and the riderless horses, ceasing their restless race to and fro on the field, fell into line like the veterans they were, and followed the bugler back to the army which owned them.

The men about the gun may have enjoyed their victory; but they gave no sign, and the seven who were left, four having fallen, were reloading as if nothing had happened to interrupt the regular firing of their one gun battery. No. 1, the sponger and rammer, had been killed by a pistol-shot. No. 2 had taken his place, his own place being taken in turn by No. 3, and so on, each moving up a step in the promotion of death. There was no reserve men now, and the force at the caisson was reduced. The corporal was bleeding from a sabre-cut on the head; but he took no notice of it, nor did the men comment on the appearance of his face, which was dyed red. Such things had grown common.

"We gave 'em h.e.l.l that time," said the corporal.

"And we can do it again," said he who had been No. 2, but now was No. 1.

The men, though saying nothing, began to feel their victory. They were making a great fight and they knew it. Their beloved cannon was excelling itself. They patted the barrel and the wheels, and ran their hands along the shining bronze, saying, "Good old boy!" and "Well done!"

The prolonge ropes were taken down, the limber chest and caisson were sent back to the rear, and the great one gun battery again went into action.

"Aim at that ma.s.s of infantry across the hill there," said the corporal, and the shot was placed in the appointed spot.

The fires of many British guns was turned upon this cannon which had become most annoying, stinging like a wasp. The defeat of the cavalry furnished mortification too, and the necessity to silence the gun and annihilate its detachment grew more imperative. A sleet of lead and iron beat about it. A hot shot struck the limber chest, and a volcano of fire and smoke, accompanied by a terrific explosion, gushed up. Pieces of iron and steel and oaken wood whizzed through the air, and for a few moments both men and horses were blinded by the dazzling burst of flame.

The limber chest was no longer there; but a deep hole appeared in the earth where it had been, and the s.p.a.ce about it was strewed with old iron. It had been blown up by the hot shot, and the corporal, who was taking charges from the chest, and three horses were blown up with it.

The other horses, torn loose from their gear and chest, had run away, bleeding. The new driver of the caisson cracked his whip over the heads of his horses, and whirled the limber into the place of the limber destroyed. The chief of caisson proceeded to supply ammunition to the gun, which did not slacken its industry.

The main battle rolled a little further away, and the horses and the gun formed a projection of the American line extending into the British. But the nature of the ground on either side, and the occupation furnished by our army to the bulk of the British troops, protected their flanks. The danger lay directly in front of them.

The gun was getting hot, and they were forced to let it cool a little.

The corporal watched the enemy, while his gun rested. He never turned his eyes towards his comrades, knowing they would do their duty.

"They advance slowly," he said to the new No. 1.

"They do not like the kisses of old Hammer and Tongs here," replied No.

1, patting the gun.

"Is that sponge burnt out?" asked the corporal.

No. 1 did not reply.

"Why don't you answer?" asked the corporal, a little impatiently.

"He's quit talking," said Acting No. 2.

The corporal did not ask, as he knew there could be only one reason for No. 1's inability. A bullet had pa.s.sed through the man's heart, and he had died gracefully and without noise. All the men moved up another step, but both the gun and the caisson were shorthanded. They were too few now to have repulsed a second cavalry charge; but, luckily for them, the second charge was not forthcoming. Infantry and guns alone were before them.

"Begin firing!" said the corporal.

The silent Jerseyman who was chief of caisson pa.s.sed the charges, and in a moment the deep note of the gun blended with the surge and roar of the battle. Shot followed shot. The machine was reduced, but no change was apparent in the quant.i.ty or quality of its work.

"The old gun can still talk good English," said the corporal, with intense satisfaction.

A fragment of grape cut him in half. The chief of caisson was promoted to the command of the gun, and took his new office without friction or delay. Six men with such a willing and experienced cannon could yet hold eloquent converse with their enemy. Still there were disadvantages. The force at the limber was so small that the charges were handled with difficulty, and the firing speed was reduced. The hostile line of battle was pressing alarmingly near, and, moreover, it had begun at last to converge on the flanks of the gun. Although we with our rifles were protecting them as much as we could, one of the reserve men looked behind him and spoke of retreat.

"This gun is tired of retreating," said the new captain. "It stays right here, and we stay with it."

Fierce and defiant, the rapid note of the twelve-pounder boomed out.

A minute later the new wheel that had been supplied to it from the caisson was smashed like its predecessor by a round shot; to fill its place, they took off the hinder part of the caisson, leaving it a cripple, and put it on the gun, which became again as good as new.

The fire of the twelve-pounder was undiminished.

"We still hold 'em back; we've won our day's pay and perhaps a little more," remarked the new captain, rather in a tone of soliloquy than address.

The balance of pay was never collected. A whiff of grape exterminated him and the man who stood nearest him, and the gun had only four a.s.sistants in its work. Two of these four men were wounded, and they might have thought of retreat; but a shot struck the caisson, blew it up, and killed the drivers, and all the horses except two. It was no longer possible to carry away the gun, and the three men who were left would not abandon it to the enemy.

The surviving horses hovered near, turning about in a small circle.

The man who had been No. 5, a cannoneer, was the senior, and took command. He was wounded, but he lost little blood and concealed the hurt.

"Shall we run?" asked one of his comrades.

"One more shot for good count!" he replied.

They aimed with deliberation, though the b.a.l.l.s and bullets rained around them. The cannoneer chose the densest red of the advancing ma.s.s, and sent the shot straight to the mark. Before the smoke from the discharge sank, three British sh.e.l.ls burst, almost simultaneously, among the last defenders, and when the smoke cleared no one was standing there. The gun, blown from its wheels and torn open at the breech, was useless forever.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE--_A Battle and An Answered Question_

The gun and its defenders were gone, but the heavy British force had been held off our flank long enough to suit our purpose. Our line, during the interval, had extended itself in such a manner that now it could not be surrounded, and we resumed our original place in the centre, where the battle was increasing.

The columns of smoke before us rose and broadened, the flashes of fire that shot through it, increased and twinkled in thousands. The shouting came more distinctly to our ears, and the drifting smoke made the dense tremulous heat more oppressive. I knew that Charles Lee commanded our engaged division, and, having in mind the talk at the council fire, I was uneasy. If only Wayne or Greene were there!

The cloud of fire and smoke suddenly began to move towards us, and the shouting grew louder. The battle was shifting its face, and approaching us. It had but one meaning, and that was the retreat of the Americans. A universal groan arose from our ranks.

"It can't be! It can't be!" shouted Marcel, and he swore.

But it was. Across the fields came our men in full flight, with Charles Lee himself, thrice-accursed traitor, at their head. All the world knows how he ordered his own men to flee, when they were winning the victory, and it need be told to no one what such a movement would mean to an army in the height of a battle. I could have wept for despair at this lost opportunity, at this useless flight which might mean our own destruction. On streamed the fugitives, and suddenly a great man on a great horse galloped forward to meet them. Everybody in our company knew that the rider was Washington, and we uttered a mighty shout. Then we were silent, while Washington rode directly in front of Charles Lee, and stopped his horse across his path.

We could not hear the words that were said, the words that must have burned into the man's soul; but we saw the red, wrathful face of Washington, and the white, scared face of Lee. Never was Washington so fiercely angry, and never with better cause. Branding the traitor with hot words, he sent him away under arrest, and then, among the stinging bullets, he reformed the men, who cheered their great commander, turned their faces to the enemy, and began anew the battle that had been all but lost.

"Leftenant," said the bare-waisted man, who had been so thirsty, and who had accompanied us with the skirmishers, "ain't it about time to let us have another drink? The inside of my throat's so dry it's scalin' off."

We had filled our canteens with water before this last march; but I had allowed my men to drink but sparingly, knowing how much they would need it later. Now I pitied them as well as myself, and I gave the word to turn up the canteens; but I ordered that the drink should be a very short one.

Up went the canteens as if they had been so many muskets raised to command. There was a deep grateful gurgle and cluck along the whole line as the water poured into the half-charred throats of the men. But Marcel and I had to draw our swords and threaten violence before they would take the canteens away from their lips.

"Leftenant," said the bare-waisted man, reproachfully, "I was right in heaven then, and you pulled me out by the legs."