At Harper's Ferry
Chapter 20
Jack shifted his body, placing the rifle butt squarely on his shoulder. As the horse and rider came across its sights, he followed along, with sights just ahead of his target. When the shot felt right, he gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle fired, and the fifty-six caliber miniball struck Davis in the right leg just as he made the turn onto the bridge. He crumpled over, fighting to stay on the back of the still-moving horse. He failed and slipped off the saddle. His body struck the railing. He flipped right over into the river below. His mount stumbled and collided against the side of the bridge. Dazed, the horse picked itself up and stood at the entrance to the bridge – oblivious to the gunfire on both sides.
“That was a great shot!” Ezra exclaimed. “Is he dead?”
Jack was pleased by the compliment but disappointed by his results. “I was hoping to hit him in the heart,” he replied. “But I doubt he lived after falling over the side of the bridge like that.”
“I can’t tell from up here. I don’t see anyone floating in the river either.”
Jack picked up his field glasses and scanned along the river, hoping to see a floating corpse. He could see nothing but running water and the Virginian Militia clinging to the top of the bridge.
Ezra said hopefully, “I don’t see how anyone could have survived being shot and falling off the bridge.”
“Maybe so, but I would rather know for sure. Either way, we’ll still have to go down and get those papers.”
The Federal fire had slackened, but it was still thick enough to have stopped the Virginians on the bridge from advancing any further. They had made it to the center of the bridge and were desperate to get any little cover they could find. The Federals in turn were picking off anyone trying to run across.
Jack and Ezra left the house and made their way down to the side of the hill. There they stayed, crouched behind the rail embankment, hiding from view. Davis’s horse was still standing at the end of the bridge, still unaware of the battle around it. The smoke from the burning buildings began to blanket the town, causing Ezra and Jack to cough and hold their mouths tightly with their hands. Crawling, they made their way to along the embankment ditch. The ditch was dirty, but neither of them cared as long as it provided cover from the miniballs passing overhead.
Jack flexed his sore arm and looked at the horse that was now several yards away from them. It had a saddle bag. He handed his rifle to his partner. He said, “Now Ezra, I want you to cover me. Shoot anyone who gets too close or is drawing a bead on me.”
“Not with your arm like that. Let me go.”
“I already have one bullet wound, one more won’t hurt.”
Ezra shook his head. “Be careful, Jack, there’s no reason to die over some old papers. No one here knows which side you are on. Anyone will be happy to hit such an easy target.”
“I’ll be quick,” the detective said with a smile. “But remember, there are only four shots left.”
Ezra nodded and slapped his friend on the back. He peeked over the ditch and rested the rifle on the edge of the ditch. “Now, Jack! It looks clear!”
Jack crawled out and on his stomach, slowly moving towards the horse. The sound of the miniballs striking the ground or singing by through the air around made him nervous, but he bit his lip and continued on, foot by agonizing foot. The uneven ground dragged roughly against his stomach, but soon he was just a few feet away from the horse. In spite of the fighting around him, he had to appreciate Davis’s choice in rides. It was a sleek Appaloosa stallion with excellent markings. Once he was in range, Jack leaped up to grab the horse’s bridle and pulled it away from the bridge.
At the same time, a shout suddenly went up on the Virginian side. A company of a dozen cavalry charged on horseback across the bridge. Their sabers were held high and glinted in the setting sun. The infantry stuck on the bridge jumped out of the way as the cavalry thundered onto the wooden timbers. The Federals shot at the oncoming charge, but only managed to pick off a few men. The horses neighed in terror, the cavalrymen shouted, but continued to push their mounts hard towards the other side. Jack looked across the bridge with frozen horror on his face, realizing he would be ridden down.
Ezra shouted, “Come on!”
Without thinking, his partner jumped out of the ditch and went down on one knee. He held his rifle steady towards the oncoming line of cavalry. He fired past his partner and hit the leading horseman straight on. The man grabbed his chest with a bloody scream and tumbled hard off the horse and into the river.
Jack snapped out of his daze, pulled hard on the bridle, and pulled himself up onto the saddle. A few cavalry shots whistled past him, one bullet tugging at his shirt sleeve.
Ezra fired again, and the next lead horseman was hit in the shoulder. “Move it!” he shouted. He only had two rounds left in his rifle, and the cavalry were getting too close for comfort. He snapped the trigger hard two more times, the cylinder turning and discharging the remaining loads in a flash of black gunpowder.
Jack kicked the horse hard in the flanks, turned and galloped the short distance to his partner. Ezra, rifle empty, swung up on the horse as the Virginian cavalry broke to the other side of the bridge. Their pistols were firing wildly, but the bullets went wide.
The stallion was now running scared, but reacted as Jack kicked its sides hard to urge the horse to a gallop. They rode hard down the road towards the Armory, trying to gain as much distance from their pursuers as possible. The air was now thick with dark smoke from the burning buildings.
“Move it, you damn horse, move it!” Jack shouted as the bullets cracked around them.
The remaining Federal troops were running into the street, fleeing out of the burning town. The tide of battle had broken, and there was little resistance left to the oncoming Virginian cavalry. The rest of them ran across the bridge, shouting and cheering as they went.
All around the Armory, the air was hot from the heat of the fires. The Virginian cavalry had now dispersed into the mass of fleeing men, trying to ride down the easier targets. Lieutenant Jones was still there in the courtyard, surrounded by smoke, shouting orders as his men scurried about. He nodded curtly at Jack and Ezra as they galloped into the courtyard.
“Glad to see you both made it back,” the Lieutenant said.
Dismounted, Jack was breathing hard. “It was a close call,” he said. “I was about to be rode down by that cavalry if Ezra hadn’t slowed them down.”
His friend grinned and said, “You were just standing there like a fool. What other choice did I have?”
“Did you get the man you were looking for?” Jones asked.
“I managed to shoot him before he made it over the bridge, but I’m not sure if he is dead or not. I did get his horse, and the papers are right here.” Jack patted the side saddle bag.
The lieutenant nodded. “We don’t have much time now. We have to pull out. I just don’t have enough men to hold them back anymore. If I were you, I would come with us.” He then shouted a few more commands at his remaining men.
Jack and Ezra returned to their horses. There, Jack tied Davis’s mount to his saddle horn. They joined the chaos of smoke and men streaming out of the town. The Virginians had now taken the lower part of the town near the bridge and were firing towards the armory. A few miniballs ricocheted off of the walls, whining through the thick, smoke-choked air.
As they reached the top of the hill looking down on Harper’s Ferry, Jack and Ezra stopped to look back. The Federal soldiers trudged by, their faces haggard with defeat. The entire town was now swirling with smoke and fire. In the distance, they could make out a small stream of Virginians still crossing the bridge. The sound of gunfire could still be heard, but it was diminished. They waited until they saw the Lieutenant, now on horseback, make his way up the hill. He was the last Federal soldier to leave the town.
Jack saluted in greeting. The lieutenant stopped to j
oin them in watching the burning town below. By then, the sun was setting. Pockets of fire from the burning Armory added an eerie glow to the sky.
Jones shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “If I only had a few more men, then I could have held that town until we received reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements would never have come,” Jack said. “They are too busy fortifying Washington. But at least they won’t be able to have the guns in the armory.”
“We’ll see,” replied Jones somberly. “I just wish we had had some more time to set the fires. I’m sure they won’t be able to get anything too valuable, but some of my men carried out their duties half-heartedly. I’m not sure if they were even on our side.”
The sound of gunfire had now completely died away. The Virginians had taken Harper’s Ferry.