115. CXV.
SHOWING THAT, THOUGH YOU KNOW WHEN YOU SET
OUT, YOU DON'T KNOW WHEN YOU WILL ARRIVE
When I awoke, soon after daylight, on the next morning,
Mordaunt was nowhere to be seen; but Achmed was standing
by the fire.
As soon as I opened my eyes, he saluted me with his calm and
graceful courtesy, and, with a movement of his hand, called my
attention to a small camp-chest, upon the lid of which smoked
an appetizing breakfast. Mordaunt had, as usual, fulfilled all the
rites of hospitality; and Farley was soon speaking in high
commendation of the bitterly strong coffee. Hurrying through
with the meal, we got into the saddle—Farley's horse having
been fitted with four excellent new shoes—and then we set
forward.
Crossing the river at Hinson's Ford, we pushed on through the
morning sunlight, and, passing Orleans, found ourselves among
the hills of Fauquier, at that time constantly scoured by scouting
parties of Federal cavalry, bent on the capture of the formidable
Mosby.
“Now, Surry,” said my smiling companion, “we had better
agree upon a programme. I have come across the river upon a
little private scout, as head-quarters began to grow tedious—and
I intend to pitch into the first Yankees I see, and have some
sport. I don't expect you, however, to do so,” and his low
laughter followed, “for, from the General's jokes, I suppose
you are making a scout of a different sort, and are not in the
humor for any other.”
“That is a good long speech, and I have heard you without
interruption, Farley,” I said, laughing. “Suppose, however, we
wait until the moment comes, and leave circumstances to decide.”
“Good! that is right. I think it will come pretty soon, as
that man in Orleans said a party of Yankee cavalry were scouting
around near Barbee's.”
Before we had reached Barbee's the truth of this report was
shown in a manner quite unmistakable. I was riding carelessly
along, when the low voice of Farley uttered the single word
“Hist!” and he immediately spurred his horse into a clump of
pine bushes on the side of the road.
I followed, and we had no sooner ensconced ourselves behind
the screen of verdant tassels, than the tramp of hoofs was heard
beyond a hill in front, and, in a few moments, a squadron of
Federal cavalry appeared upon the crest, and steadily approached.
“This is just what I want,” whispered Farley, bending over
his horse's mane, and looking through the second-growth pines
“I am going to fire upon them, Surry, and run them off.”
The thing seemed to me impossible—ignorant as I was of
the science of scouting—and I said so; but Farley laughed, in his
low, confidential voice, and replied:
“I know this sort of game better than you do, old fellow!
I'll bet that they run at the first fire!”
“From two men?”
“So you are going to take a hand.”
“Certainly, if you open the ball. I'll never desert a comrade,
Farley; but I wouldn't be captured for worlds at the present
moment—and I am getting awfully demoralized!”
“You are right! Just take that path yonder, and you will be
out of reach in ten minutes.”
“And leave you?”
“Oh, I am used to them! and they know me so well that a
price is set on me.”
“If you are going to fire on them, now is the time.”
“You stay?”
“Certainly.”
“Good! then we'll open with a real volley—ten barrels, one
after the other; and, if they crowd us, we will fall back in good
order to the woods yonder!”
Farley's face glowed as he spoke; his eyes danced; his lips
were smiling. He was evidently in his element, and enjoyed the
prospect of the approaching collision.
It soon came. The squadron of blue-coats was now within
fifty yards, marching in columns of twos, preceded by their
captain, an officer with a bushy black beard; and, cocking his
pistol, Farley levelled it over his horse's head, whispering:
“Wait till I give the word!” He waited until the column
was directly opposite, and then, shouting “Fire!” aimed at the
officer, and discharged barrel after barrel of his revolver. I
imitated him, and the sudden attack threw the column into the
wildest confusion. Taken completely by surprise, and wholly
ignorant of the force opposed to them, they scattered upon every
side; and it was several moments before the voice of the commanding
officer could be heard.
He shouted to them in a violent rage to rally, exclaiming.
“Charge the bushes! Fire on them! Charge!” and under
his rapid orders, the disordered column rallied, and poured a hot
fire into the bushes where we were standing.
“That won't hurt us!” said Farley, as the bullets whistled
around. “I've got a loaded revolver yet, and we'll try them again!”
As he spoke he drew the fresh weapon, and fired barrel after
barrel into the cavalry.
They had, however, discovered by this time the insignificant
number of their assailants, and, instead of charging straight into
the bushes, the officer in command ordered the party to deploy
and surround the spot, so as to cut off our retreat.
“Now comes the tub,” said Farley in a low voice. “We'll fall
back, so as to face them as they come.”
And he galloped toward the wood he had pointed out to me, I
following.
Before we had gone fifty steps a rapid fire was opened upon us
from the rear; and suddenly I saw Farley's horse go down. At
the same instant a ball inflicted a mortal wound on the animal I
was riding, and I found myself dismounted.
By this time the enemy had closed in upon us, and the air was
full of bullets hissing around us, and cutting the twigs from the
pines, or whacking against the trunks. Farley was shot three
times through the hat, and eight times through the skirts and
collar of his coat.[1]
I was untouched—but in ten minutes we
were surrounded and captured.
It is impossible to describe the rage of the Federal commander
when he discovered that he had been thus audaciously attacked
by two men only. He stormed and swore at us in a manner so
frightful that I thought he was about to issue an order for our
instant execution by the bullets of the men. Fortunately, however,
he became somewhat calmer, in consequence of this proceeding—the
safety valve of oaths had “let off the steam”—
and, wrathfully assuring us that we would be treated as bushwhackers
and guerrillas, he directed us to march in rear of the
column, now again in line.
This we accordingly did, but our slow pace impeded the advance,
and we were finally mounted upon two horses, taken
from citizens—to which our saddles had been transferred.
As we thus went on, under guard, I had ample opportunity to
realize to the fullest extent my ill fortune. Was ever any thing
more unlucky? An hour before, I had been within a few miles
of the woman whom I loved more than all the world beside—I
was going to hear that musical voice once more, bask again in
that golden smile—and now I was a prisoner, in the hands of the
enemy, doomed probably to languish for months to come in
some Northern prison! At that moment, I think I would have
embraced any opportunity, although involving almost certain
death, to make my escape; but the thing was quite impossible—on
every side the scowling blue-coats, with cocked carbines, made
the attempt desperate.
