Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins Part 9

Hooker fell back, therefore, in the direction of Washington. Lee had foreseen that fact, and had given himself small anxiety. His three corps were already in full motion toward the Potomac; and suddenly the thunder of artillery came on the winds of the mountains.

Ewell, the head of the Southern spear, was driving at Milroy, holding Winchester. The struggle was brief. General Milroy had put the iron heel on the poor valley; had oppressed the unfortunate people beyond the power of words--and suddenly the hand of Fate clutched and shook him to death. Ewell stormed his "Star Fort" near Winchester, with the bayonet; drove him to headlong flight; got in rear of him, capturing nearly all his command; and poor Milroy scarce managed to escape, with a small body-guard, beyond the Potomac.

"In my opinion Milroy's men will fight better _under a soldier!_"

It was his commanding officer, Hooker, who wrote those words a few days afterward. From the hands of his own general came that unkindest cut!

Exit Milroy, thus amid hisses and laughter--the hornet's nest at Winchester was swept away--and Ewell headed straight for Pennsylvania.

Longstreet came up rapidly to fill the gap in the line--Hill followed Longstreet--and then the world beheld the singular spectacle of an army extended in a long skirmish line over a hundred miles, with another army ma.s.sed not daring to a.s.sail it.

Hooker did not see his "opening;" but Lincoln did. One of his dispatches has been quoted--here is another as amusing and as judicious.

"If the head of Lee's army is at Martinsburg," Lincoln wrote Hooker, "and the tail of it on the Plank road, between Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, _the animal must be very slim somewhere--could you not break him?_"

But Hooker could not. He did not even try. Lee's movements seemed to paralyze him--his chief of staff wrote:--

"We cannot go boggling round, until we know what we are going after."

"Boggling round" exactly described the movements of Hooker. He was still in a grand fog, and knew nothing of his adversary's intent, when a terrific cry arose among the well-to-do farmers of Pennsylvania. The wolf had appeared in the fold. Ewell was rapidly advancing upon Harrisburg.

Behind came the veteran corps of Hill and Longstreet. The gorges of the Blue Ridge were alive with bristling bayonets. Then the waters of the Potomac splashed around the waists of the infantry and the wheels of the artillery carriages. Soon the fields of Maryland and Pennsylvania were alive with "rebels," come, doubtless, to avenge the outrages of Pope and Milroy. Throughout those commonwealths--through Philadelphia, New York, and Boston--rang the cry, "Lee is coming!"

To return to the cavalry. The hors.e.m.e.n of Stuart were going to move in an eccentric orbit. These are my _memoirs_, reader, not a history of the war; I describe only what I saw, and am going to ask you now, to "follow the feather" of Stuart.

Stuart was promptly in the saddle, and when Lee began to move, advanced north of the Rappahannock, drawing a cordon of cavalry across the roads above Middleburg, to guard the approaches to the mountain.

The result was that the infantry defiled through the Blue Ridge without Hooker's knowledge. He knew that something was going on, but there his information terminated. The troopers of Stuart kept watch over fifteen miles of front, and through this wall of sabres the Federal eye could not pierce.

Stuart is regarded by many as only a brave "raider." It was on occasions like this, however, that he performed his greatest services.

Everywhere he confronted the enemy in stubborn battle; and the work was hard. It was fighting, fighting, fighting--now, as in 1862, when he covered Lee's retreat after Sharpsburg. Day and night the cavalry had no rest. The crack of carbines, the clash of sabres, and the roar of cannon were incessant. It was a war of giants which Fauquier and Loudoun saw in those days--and not until the rear of Lee's column had nearly reached the Potomac, did General Hooker by a desperate effort succeed in driving Stuart back.

In these pages I must leave that obstinate struggle undescribed. It was full of romantic scenes, and ill.u.s.trated by daring courage: but all is lost to view in the lurid smoke of Gettysburg.

With one scene in the hurrying drama I shall pa.s.s to greater events.

But first, I beg to introduce to the reader a very singular personage, who is destined to play an important part in the history I am writing.

XI.

NIGHTHAWK.

It was the night of the 20th of June, 1863. Stuart's head-quarters had been established in a house on the roadside above Middleburg.

We had been fighting all day; had returned only at nightfall: and I was exchanging a few words with Stuart, before following the staff to rest, when all at once a third personage, who seemed to have arisen from the floor, stood before us.

His presence was so sudden and unexpected that I started. Then I looked at him, curiously.

He was a man of about forty, thin, wiry, and with a nose resembling the beak of a bird of prey. His eyes, half buried under bushy eyebrows, twinkled like two stars. His mouth was large and smiling; his expression exceedingly benignant. From the face I pa.s.sed to the costume. The worthy was clad in severe black, with a clerical white cravat: wore a black beaver hat of the "stove-pipe" order; and presented the appearance of a pious and peaceable civilian--almost that of a clergyman, smiling benignantly upon all around him.

Stuart uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.

"Ah! Nighthawk, here you are!" he said.

And turning to me he introduced the new comer as "Mr. Nighthawk, one of my 'private friends,' and true as steel."

Mr. Nighthawk bowed with an air of smiling respect--of benignant sweetness.

"I am glad to know you, colonel, and hope I may have an opportunity of being of service to you some day," he said.

The voice was low, soft, and accorded with the mild expression of the countenance.

"Well, what news, Nighthawk?" asked Stuart; "experience tells me that you have something of importance to communicate?"

"Ah, general!"

"Yes. You pa.s.s in the cavalry by the name of the 'man before the battle,' for you always turn up then."

Mr. Nighthawk smiled.

"I try to give you information, general; and perhaps I have some news.

But first of my visits to Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, where I saw many of our friends."

And in his low, quiet voice Mr. Nighthawk, who had taken a seat and smoothed down his white cravat, proceeded to speak of his travels and what he had seen.

The narrative astounded me. He spoke without reserve, for General Stuart had informed him that he might do so before me; and I was startled to find the number of private friends the South had in the North. Mr. Nighthawk was evidently _au fait_ at his trade. He had a perfect understanding plainly with persons of the highest political position; and Stuart listened with the greatest interest to the speaker, whose low voice never rose above the half-whisper by which I had been impressed on his first opening his lips.

"So the summing up of all this," said Stuart, "that our friends are not too hopeful?"

"They are not, general."

"They say Lee must win a great victory on the soil of Pennsylvania?"

"Yes, general. Without it there is no hope of peace, they declare."

"Well, I think they are right; and that we shall gain the victory."

Mr. Nighthawk made no reply; and Stuart reflected for some moments without speaking. Then rousing himself:--

"I forgot," he said. "You have not given me your special information, Nighthawk."

The worthy smiled.