107. CVII.
THE LAST CHARGE OF PELHAM.
At dawn we were aroused by the intelligence that the enemy
were crossing the Rappahannock and making a determined
attack upon the small force posted in the rifle-pits.
Stuart had laid down without taking off his clothes or arms.
He was speedily in the saddle—General Fitz Lee having sent
him a horse. I had procured one from Pelham, and we were
soon riding rapidly in the direction of Kelly's Ford.
As we passed Fleetwood Hill, where the great battle of the
9th of June was afterward fought, and approached Stevensburg,
the dark column of Fitz Lee was seen moving steadily through
the gray of morning in the direction of the Rappahannock; and,
riding on to the head of the column, Stuart joined the General.
The firing from the river in front was now rapid and continuous.
“They have crossed,” said Stuart anxiously. “Who commands
the force in the rifle-pits, Fitz?”
I did not hear the answer. I only heard the words “re-enforced
last night.”
As he spoke, the firing ceased, as if by magic.
In the dim light I could see Stuart knit his brow.
“They are captured as sure as fate!” he growled.
The words were soon verified. A cavalry-man galloped up,
and, to Stuart's quick demand of “What news?” replied in great
excitement:
“The enemy are across, General—at least ten thousand!
The men in the rifle-pits are all captured!”
“Where are you going?” said Stuart gruffly.
“To find my company, General.”
“Here is a company you can join.”
And he pointed to Fitz Lee's column, in which the straggling
cavalry-man reluctantly took his place.
“Now, Fitz,” said Stuart coolly, “there is only one thing to
do—to fight them. We'll drive right at Averill, and find who is
the best man.”
General Fitz Lee received this suggestion with a gay laugh.
“That's what I am going to do,” was his reply.
The column moved on steadily; the day slowly dawned; and
as we approached Kelly's Ford we came upon the enemy, drawn
up on the southern bank of the river, not less than three thousand
in the saddle.
General Fitz Lee immediately made his dispositions for attack.
I say General Fitz Lee, for Stuart had notified him that he would not
assume command as long as every thing went on to his satisfaction.
As the sun rose, the spectacle presented was imposing.
Ranged in long lines, face to face, were seen the opposing lines of
cavalry, drawn up for the charge; and, as the masses moved to
their allotted positions, the heavy tramp of hoofs, with the occasional
notes of the bugle, alone broke the stillness.
In face of the three thousand cavalry of Averill, the eight
hundred of Fitz Lee presented a painfully diminutive appearance.
The array of force against the Southerners seemed overwhelming—but
never have I seen troops more animated and
eager for the fray. The eyes of the men sparkled; they clutched
the sword-hilt with an evident intention to make every cut
bring down its man; and when Stuart and Fitz Lee appeared,
riding along the lines, a wild burst of cheers rose, saying, as
plainly as any language, “We are ready! Give the word!”
It was given. Suddenly the ringing bugles sounded the
“Charge!” and Lee and Stuart, with drawn sabres whirling
round their heads, led the line in a headlong charge.
In a moment they had burst upon the enemy, drawn up behind
a ditch and heavy stone wall; the carbines were cracking,
and the bitter struggle began in all its fury.
It was to last from morn to night—from the rising to the setting
of the sun.
I cannot describe it in its animated details; some other hand
must chronicle the splendid gallantry of the little band of Lee,
fighting nearly four to one; and tell, too, with what dash and
courage Fitz Lee led his men.
“It was like a little dog jumping at the throat of a big mastiff!”
said an old farmer afterward, in describing the action; and all
day long the plucky bull-dog, small, but “game,” made those
leaps, bringing blood from his huge adversary's throat.
As the hours wore on, the struggle became desperate. From
their cover behind the stone walls in their front, the enemy
poured a deadly fire into the Southern horsemen; but the
obstacle was hurled down, the horses driven over with the spur,
and the battle raged, hour after hour, with varying fortunes, in
every portion of the field.
The enemy's great numbers told at last, however. They
opened with their artillery—massed their column in front of our
left, and, throwing all their weight there, turned the flank, and
forced Fitz Lee back.
He retired, fighting obstinately at every step, the enemy
pressing on in triumph. But they could not throw his line into
disorder. Instead of scattering, the horses, who had been more
or less broken into detachments, now concentrated, and, showing
thus an obstinate and determined front, Fitz Lee continued to
fall back, under the fire both of carbines and artillery.
All at once, from an eminence in rear, was heard the thunder
of Pelham's guns; and the shells, racing over the heads of
the cavalry, burst in the enemy's line, throwing it into disorder,
and checking its advance. Fitz Lee continued to retire, until he
reached a body of woods, on the summit of a hill, with open
land in front; and here he massed his cavalry, formed line of
battle, and prepared to fight to the last.
The sun was now sinking, and the great orb, balanced like a
ball of fire upon the woodland, seemed to be bathed in blood.
Throughout the whole day, the little force had virtually held its
ground; and now, seeing that Averill continued to advance, Fitz
Lee determined to attack him.
In our front was a great field intersected by fences; but these
were of wood, and could be torn down. On the high ground
beyond was the Federal artillery. As far as the eye could
reach, extended the dark masses of the Federal cavalry, motionless
in line of battle.
Our bugles sounded the charge, and slowly the Southern line
advanced—then it broke into a trot—then, at a wild gallop,
and with defiant cheers, it burst upon the enemy.
From that moment the action became mad and desperate.
The men discarded the pistol and carbine, and had recourse to
the sabre. In an instant they had torn wide gaps in the fences,
swept through, and were fighting hand to hand.
Fitz Lee and Stuart were in front, fighting like private soldiers.
Their presence gave new vigor to the men, and a better
fight was not made in the war.
Stuart was leading on the men when Pelham galloped up and
made some report in relation to his artillery. I understood in
an instant what had brought him—he could not stay in the rear
with his guns: he burned to be in the charge.
As he turned away, a regiment swept by, right down upon
the enemy, and Pelham's sabre flashed from its scabbard.
At that moment his appearance was superb. His cheeks were
burning; his blue eyes darted lightnings; from his lips, wreathed
with a smile of joy, rang “Forward!” as he cheered on the
men.
For an instant he was standing erect in his stirrups, his sabre
flashing in his grasp; for a moment his proud voice rang like a
clarion which sounds the charge—then I saw him hurled from
the saddle, under the trampling hoofs of the horses.
With a single bound of my horse I reached him. He lay with
his smiling face turned upward, his eyes closed.
A shell had burst above him; a fragment struck him upon
the head—he was gone!
Gone at the moment when, before the headlong charge of
Lee, the men of Averill gave way; gone at that supreme instant
when the long, hard day was won, and the baffled enemy were
hastily retiring across the Rappahannock! That spectacle was
denied the heroic boy—but he died the death he wished—and is
yonder, where the brave and true and faithful are rewarded!
At night the enemy were retiring, “badly hurt,” as Stuart
telegraphed. He added: “We are after him. His dead men
and horses strew the roads.”
Before morning, Averill, with his three thousand horsemen,
thus defeated by the eight hundred men of Lee, was rapidly retreating
beyond the Rappahannock: a complete victory had
crowned the Southern arms.
But the death of a boy more than balanced this supreme success.
At midnight Pelham's lips had uttered their last sigh.
His noble spirit was beyond the stars—
“Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing
Could touch him further!”
