CHAPTER III
THE ENCOUNTERS AT THE BRIDGE AND ON THE RAFT
At the time of which I write the name of Morgan's Cavalry was alreadyknown throughout the length and breadth of Kentucky, and those of theinhabitants who were on the side of the Union heard of his coming to oneneighborhood or another with dread.
When the boys in blue were refitting at Nashville, late in the year1862, Morgan, having made several raids in Kentucky, though hardly, asyet, any of consequence, determined to visit the State once more, takingwith him the pick of the Confederate cavalry of this section of ourcountry. His first engagement was with a few companies of Michigantroops, on the 24th of December, where he suffered a loss of seventeenmen. On Christmas Day came an engagement near Munfordsville, and thenthe notorious leader attacked the stockade at Bacon Creek. A vigorousresistance was made, but the explosion of a number of shells within theenclosure made a surrender necessary, and this was followed by theburning of the bridge across Bacon Creek, after which Morgan advanced toNolan, where another bridge was destroyed.
The march of the cavalry was now turned toward Elizabethtown, and here afierce fight occurred between the Confederates and a body of six hundredinfantry under Lieutenant-Colonel Smith, which lasted six hours. Theinfantry could do but little against the superior numbers of thecavalry, although fighting valorously, and in the end Morgan gained hispoint and began a march along the railroad, destroying everything insight as he advanced.
It had been hoped by Bragg that Morgan's raid would help the cause ofthe South a great deal; but the sudden movement of Rosecrans fromNashville to Murfreesboro dimmed the glory considerably. On the 29th ofDecember Morgan was attacked at Rolling Fork on Salt River and driven toBardstown, from which point he began to make his slow but certainretreat from the State.
Captain Ripley, Deck's friend of the sharpshooters, had called Morgan'scavalry cut-throats. This was an appellation common in those days, butit is hardly justifiable. But there is no doubt that a portion of theraiders were men of low moral character, and these fellows, whenforaging, thought it no more than right to confiscate everything insight. In the neighborhoods strong in Union sentiment whole plantationswere laid waste, and the women and children made to suffer untoldindignities.
It has been said that Morgan himself had left the State. This was true,but numerous detachments of the cavalrymen remained, some under captainsand lieutenants who held no commissions in the Confederate army, andthese were mixed up with guerillas,--lawless bodies,--who, whilepretending to fight for the Southern cause, thought only of murder andplunder. For these latter bodies Morgan was not responsible, yet theywere spoken of everywhere as Morgan's Raiders.
From the very start of hostilities there had been a strong sentiment inBarcreek and vicinity against the dwellers at Riverlawn. Here the firstUnion cavalry companies had been formed, and from this house a fatherand two sons (Artie was always called the colonel's son) had gone forth.More than this, Colonel Lyon had declared that all he possessed shouldgo to uphold the Union cause were it needed. Those of Confederatetendencies had muttered against this, and ever since the first attack onRiverlawn had been repulsed, numerous "fire-eaters" had longed for achance to "get square."
Deck thought of all these things as he moved from the shelter of theclearing along the creek in the direction of the bridge. From one sourceand another he had learned of a score of men of the vicinity joiningMorgan's Raiders, and he felt certain now that these fellows would befound among those bent on the looting of his father's estate.
The young major could not get his mind away from a certain rowdy ofBarcreek who rejoiced in the name of Gaffy Denny. At a Union meetingheld at the schoolhouse when the war began, Deck had refused this manadmittance to the building, even when the ruffian drew a bowie-knife,and had caused the fellow to decamp by showing his pistol. Since thistime he had heard twice from Denny--first that he had joined theguerillas operating throughout the county, and again that he was tryingto pay his addresses to Dorcas, who, it may readily be imagined, wouldhave nothing to do with him. Denny was a man of thirty-five, a "hoss"trader when he worked, which was but seldom, and as sly and nervy as hewas unprincipled.
"If Gaffy Denny is in this, he shall hear from me," murmured the major,as he worked his way along the creek's shore. There was a low fringe ofbrush overhanging the water, and he skulked behind this, passing the fewbreaks encountered by crawling on his chest through the grass. Hisprogress was necessarily slow, and it took five minutes to reach thebridge, although the distance from the clearing was not more than aneighth of a mile.
From behind the brush he had more than once looked over in the directionof the mansion. Not a soul had appeared in sight, and had he not knownotherwise, he would have said that the homestead was deserted.
When within half a rod of the bridge the major halted, for a slightmovement behind the tree overshadowing the bridge seat--that seat wherehis father and Uncle Titus had once so bitterly quarrelled--hadattracted his attention.
"Was that a squirrel or a man's hat?" was the question he asked himself,when the view of something else answered the question. The new object tocome into view was the elbow of a man, and the shining barrel of a gunfollowed.
"A guard, I'll wager my commission," was Deck's thought. "I wonder if heis alone and if I can capture him single-handed."
The major, having led the way into many a hot fight, was not the one tohang back in such an emergency as this. Even while wondering if the manon the bridge was alone, he hurried forward, keeping the tree betweenhimself and the individual. The bridge was gained and the tree was butthree yards off when a partly loose plank tipped up, making enough noiseto attract the attention of the man, who leaped forward, pointing hisgun as he came.
"Halt!" he spluttered, but the word was still on his lips when Deckducked, caught the gun barrel with his left hand, and with his rightlevelled his pistol full into the sentinel's face.
"Surrender, or you are a dead man!" commanded Major Deck, sternly. "Letgo of the gun."
The fellow, taken completely by surprise, hesitated, as if inclined toargue the point. "Wha--what?" he stammered. "See yere, this ain't fair,nohow!"
"Let go, or I'll fire," was Deck's only answer, and he fingered thetrigger of his revolver nervously.
In a second more he had the gun in his possession, and then he compelledthe man to throw up both hands. "Now march up the road away from thebridge," he continued. "And no treachery, or I'll put a ball through youon the spot."
"I reckon I have fell in with Deck Lyon," said the sentinel, with asickly grin, as he moved on as the major had commanded.
"I am Deck Lyon; but I don't know you, although I've seen you at BowlingGreen. What do they call you?"
"They call me Sergeant Hank Scudder in our company."
"SURRENDER, OR YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!"
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"And what company is that?"
"Cap'n Casswell's command--unattached."
"Casswell's guerillas, eh?"
"We ain't guerillas--we belong to the boys in gray."
"Does your captain hold a commission from headquarters?"
"'Tain't fer me to answer thet question, Major."
"From the fact that you refuse to answer it, I infer that he does not;consequently he is nothing but a guerilla, and worse, and you are--"
"Hold on, Major, don't be too hard on a poor fellow who has his livingto make."
"This isn't making a living--it's stealing one. Tell me truthfully, isGaffy Denny with your company?"
"Gaffy Denny is first leftenant, Major."
"Where are the others?"
"Somewhere around the house and barns."
"How long since you arrived here?"
"'Bout an hour and a half ago."
"How many are there here? Answer me truthfully, or, my word for it, Iand my friends will hang you to one of yonder trees."
"Got many friends with yer, Major?"
"Enough. Now answer my question," and again
Deck's weapon came up on alevel with the guerilla's head.
"There air twenty-five on us, I reckon."
"Were you the only man left on guard?"
"I dunno."
"Who put you on guard?"
"Leftenant Denny."
"Isn't Captain Casswell in command?"
"No, the cap'n was shot down in a skirmish three days ago--back ofEdmonton, and he's laying at the house of a friend ten miles from yere."
While talking the pair had moved across the road, and now Deck turnedhis prisoner in the direction of the clearing. Soon they came in sightof General, Clinker, and one other of the slaves.
"The first prisoner, General," said the young officer. "Have youanything with which to bind him?"
"Look yere, Major, this ain't handsome!" cried Sergeant Hank Scudder, inalarm.
"Handsome or not, you can thank your stars that I didn't shoot you deadon the bridge," rejoined Deck. "How about a cord, General?"
"We dun got one, Mars'r Deck," answered the slave, and producing it heand Clinker soon bound the guerilla's hands behind him, after which therope at his wrists was passed around a stout tree.
Deck's next movement was in the direction of the raft, for nothing wasto be seen of Artie, and he was anxious to know how the young captainwas faring. He had hardly reached the pile of logs to which the raft wasmoored, when a sharp cry rang out on the frosty air.
"Help! General, Woolly, Clinker! Help!" There followed another cry, andleaping through the brush and onto the logs Deck saw his cousin battlingmanfully in a hand-to-hand conflict with two rough men in gray, one ofwhom was trying to possess himself of the captain's sabre.
In such an emergency Major Deck did not hesitate as to a proper courseof action. Had the men been regular Confederates he would have beenjustified in shooting at them; being guerillas he felt himself even morejustified. He took careful aim and fired, and the rascal who had justwrenched the sabre from Artie's grasp fell, shot through the thigh, anugly wound though not a fatal one.
Surprised at the counter-demonstration thus made, the second guerillaturned to see from what direction the shot had come. Giving him nochance in which to take in the situation, Deck fired a second time, thebullet whistling past the man in gray's shoulder. With a yell the fellowstarted to retreat from the logs, slipped on the wet and frost-coveredsurface beneath him, and rolled over and over until he went with a loudsplash into the creek, not to reappear upon the surface of the icycurrent until fifty feet away.
"Artie, are you hurt?" demanded Deck, as he watched the man who had goneoverboard.
"N--no, but th--that man nearly choked the life out of me," was theanswer, with a cough. "Don't let him get away," and the young captainnodded toward the guerilla who was making for the plantation side of thecreek.
"He shan't get away." Deck elevated his voice and his shooter at thesame time. "Come back here, unless you want a hole put through yourhead!" he called out.
To this the guerilla did not reply. But he kept on swimming, and seeingthis both Deck and Artie fired. A yell of pain was the answer to theshots, and the man turned around.
"Are you coming back?" demanded Deck.
"Yes! yes! don't shoot ag'in!" came with something like a groan.
The wounded man on the logs was writhing in pain, but nothing could bedone for him just now, and Deck and Artie watched the man in the water."I'm a goner!" came from the individual of a sudden, and throwing upboth arms he disappeared from view.
For the instant Deck stared blankly and Artie looked at him. "Was that agenuine move, or is he shamming?" questioned the captain.
"I take it he is shamming," answered the major. "I don't believe he wasbadly wounded at all. Wait," and he continued to watch.
In half a minute the body of the guerilla appeared, a hundred feet belowthe logs. "Turn back here, or I'll put a bullet through your body forluck!" sang out Deck, and raised his pistol again.
"Don't! don't!" came the quick reply. "I'll come--don't hit me ag'in,Cap'n!"
In less than five minutes after this the guerilla was on the raft oncemore. Deck was on the point of marching him up into the grove by thecreek road when Levi Bedford came up in the canoe, demanding to knowwhat the several shots meant. He was highly pleased to think that threemen had already been put out of the contest.
"I've discovered the guerillas moving around at the back of the mansionand around the largest of the barns," he said. "Now that you have usedyour pistols the best thing to do, in my opinion, is to get over to thefort and take possession of it."
"You are right," returned Deck. "Let us go over on the raft, as firstproposed; but General can come around by the bridge and bring all of thehorses, or keep them where they will be handy in case they are wanted.We ought not to give these guerillas the least chance to escape."
The General was called from his hiding-place and matters were explained.While he went off with the horses, Levi Bedford led the way to the raftand unmoored her, fastening the painter to the stern of the canoe,which, though so called, was, as old readers already know, really around-bottom rowboat. The overseer, Deck, and Artie entered the canoe,the first two at the oars, while the slaves deposited themselves on theraft, doing what they could to aid their progress over the stream bymeans of several sweeps which had been picked up.