123. CXXIII.
IN WHICH BOGY, MOONSHINE, AND SNAKEBUG ALL
“GO UNDER.”
Stuart was in the saddle before daylight, and his head-quarters
disappeared as if a wind had blown them away. “Camp
Pelham” was no more.
As we passed through the Court-House, en route for the Rappahannock,
Farley was seen rapidly approaching, and very soon
he was in eager, confidential conversation with Stuart. I afterward
ascertained that he had penetrated the Federal camps,
procured important intelligence, dogged the enemy as they
moved, and, crossing the river in the midst of their cavalry column,
which he was enabled to do safely by wrapping his oil-cloth
closely around him, reached General Stuart in time to put
him in possession of most valuable information.
As we approached Stevensburg, a little village to the right of
Brandy Station, the long, dark columns of Stuart's main body of
cavalry were seen drawn up in line of battle in the fields.
General W. H. F. Lee came to meet us, and his report no
longer left any doubt of the situation.
Hooker was moving with the Fifth, Eleventh, and Twelfth
Corps of his army, by way of Kelly's Ford, and had already
crossed; General Sedgwick,[1]
as prisoners reported, was ordered
to cross simultaneously at Fredericksburg with the First, Third,
and Sixth Corps, to hold Lee in check there; and General
Couch, with the Second Corps, was opposite Banks's Ford, below
Chancellorsville, ready to cross and unite with Hooker, as soon
as he had passed the Rapidan. As we subsequently ascertained,
General Sedgwick had orders, as soon as the main column crossed
above, to return to the northern bank of the river at Fredericksburg,
march up the stream, cross over at United States Ford
opposite Chancellorsville, and unite, like Couch, with Hooker.
Then the whole Federal army would be safely across the Rappahannock
directly upon General Lee's flank; and that commander
must retreat upon Richmond, or fight upon ground
selected by his adversary.
At the moment when I went, in company with Stuart, toward
the Rappahannock, this design was not developed: but the
work before the cavalry was plain enough. Hooker's infantry
column was supported by a heavy force of cavalry, under General
Stoneman—destined, as we soon found, to strike at the Virginia
Central Railroad, near Gordonsville; and to check, if possible,
this dangerous movement, was a main part of Stuart's task.
The remainder was to hang upon the front and flanks of the
infantry, harass their march, and impede, in every manner, their
advance, until General Lee was ready to meet them upon his
own ground.
Such is a brief and rapid résumé of the situation. From
the generalization of the historian, I now descend to that description
of scenes and incidents which is the province of the
memoir writer.
Stuart took command of his column and advanced toward
Kelly's Ford, where Hooker had already crossed.
As the sun rose, we could see from a hill the dense masses of
Federal infantry crowding the banks of the river—their heavy
parks of artillery ready to move—and their glittering cavalry
drawn up in line of battle. It seemed a veritable invasion of
Attila. The task of breaking to pieces that mighty war-machine,
bristling with cannon, bayonets, and sabres, appeared almost
hopeless. Soon it began to move, to the resounding music of
the magnificent bands; and, above the hum of the multitude and
the roll of the drums, rose the clear and ringing blasts of the
cavalry bugles.
Did you ever see three army corps in motion, my dear reader?
It is a splendid spectacle, and you take a peculiar interest in it
when you know that they must be met and driven back at the
point of the bayonet!
Again I recognized that day in Stuart, as I had often recognized
before, the splendid faculties which indicate the born
master of the art of war. An eye that took in at a glance every
trait of the ground; a coolness in making his dispositions, so
perfect that it resembled apathy; but a recklessness, when once
engaged, which many would call rashness—there is what I saw
in Stuart. He handled his command as the perfect swordsman
grasps his trusty weapon, ready to parry or strike; and as he
rode on to the front, the exclamation of the men, “There goes
old Stuart, boys! it's all right!” indicated that confidence in his
generalship, which many an arduous and trying scene had impressed
them with. They saw before them the guiding mind,
and saluted it, as I did. In the stout young cavalier, so gay and
boyish upon ordinary occasions, these fiery spirits recognized
their master; and the cheers which greeted him as he went on to
the front, said plainly: “We are ready to live or die with you!”
In fifteen minutes after Stuart's arrival, his advance had
struck the enemy; and in front of the dismounted sharpshooters
I saw the tall form of Mordaunt, as, riding slowly up and down,
amid a storm of bullets, he cheered on the men.
“Look at Mordaunt yonder—always at the front!” said
Stuart.
And, humming a song,[2]
he rode down to the line of sharpshooters,
which had now become hotly engaged.
“Well, Mordaunt,” he said, “how are things going? Can
you hold your ground?”
“For half an hour, General—not longer. They are bringing
up a heavy force to attack me, and I suppose I shall have to fall
back.”
“Don't retire until you are forced to. Who commands the
sharpshooters yonder on your right?”
“Lieutenant Saltoun.'
“He's made of the right stuff. Look! he is advancing!”
In fact, Harry Saltoun, by which name I shall continue to call
him, was seen pressing forward in front of his line, amid a hail-storm
of balls, waving his sabre, and cheering.
Stuart galloped toward him, and was soon at his side.
“How goes it, Saltoun!”
“Glorious, General!” exclaimed the youth; “we are driving
'em!”
As he spoke, a bullet passed through his hat, and he burst into
a laugh.
“Look, General!” he exclaimed, “the rascals have spoiled
my best hat!—but we've spoiled some of their blue coats!”
A loud hurrah from the sharpshooters resounded as he spoke,
and, as the enemy fell back, a column of cavalry, sent by Stuart,
swept down, at full gallop, upon their right flank, and threw
them into wild disorder.
We galloped to the point, and found the column in possession
of a long train of wagons, which had moved by a parallel road
toward the front; and the men were now seen striking their
teams with their sabres, to force them into a gallop, and so
secure the prize. Others, however, had yielded to the passion
for plunder, and, as I came opposite a fine wagon, evidently belonging
to some general's head-quarters, I saw our old friend,
Captain Bogy, dart toward it like a hawk swooping at a fat
chicken. At the same moment, Moonshine and Snakebug,
couriers at head-quarters, who had scented the plunder, also appeared
upon the scene—and, leaping from their horses, plunged,
head foremost, into the wagon. Bogy followed, or rather led
them, intent on booty; and then, what I saw was this—three
bodies, half concealed under the canvas covering, and six legs,
kicking in the air, as the bold raiders rapidly rifled the rich contents
of the wagon.
Saw plainly—but saw for an instant only! Fast approached
the relentless and implacable fate!
Even as Bogy's fat legs kicked the unresisting air; even as
Moonshine's hands were seen transferring valuable articles to his
capacious pockets, and Snakebug's form was disappearing wholly
in the wagon, at this interesting crisis came the hand of
Destiny!
A line of Federal infantry swept forward at a double-quick;
a tremendous volley resounded; and, as I fell back with the
cavalry, I saw rough hands grasp the fat legs of Bogy—sharp
bayonets prick the astonished backs of his co-laborers—with one
fell rush the blue stream roared over them—and Bogy, Moonshine,
Snakebug yielded and “went under,” never more to reappear
in this history.
They were “game to the last”—those brave, heroic spirits!
They stuck to their great principle even in that hour of peril—
their principle that “Yankee wagons” were made to be plun-dered,
and that every good Southerner ought to “go through”
the same, wherever found, or perish in the attempt!
