Jasper County Democrat, Volume 15, Number 72, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 December 1912 — My Lady of the North [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

My Lady of the North

* TO LOVE STORY Of A GRAY JACKET

by RANDALL PARISH

MASKING* ’lflusfrafiois 7 jT *»

SYNOPSIS.

The story opens in a tent of the Confederate army at a critical fl B *® of * th ?> Clvil War - Qen - Le* Imparts to Captain Wayne a secret message to Longstreet, upon the delivery or which depend great issues. Accompanied by Sergeant Craig, an old army missiom' rayne Btarts out 0,1 dangerous

H.—The two messengers make a wild ride, dodging squads of soldiers, almost lose their bearings and finally are within the Mnes of the enemy, having penetrated the cordon of pickets unmolested.

„,pUAPTER HL—Encountering a small party of soldiers in the darkness, Wayne is taken for a federal officer who came to keep an appointment, is accepted as his representative, and a young lady on horseback is given in his charge.

i e t wo southern scouts is a northern girl, who, when she becomes aware of their army affiliations, slashes Wayne with but faite’ w hiP and attempts to escape

CHAPTER V.—One of the horses giving out, Wayne orders Craig to get through with the dispatches to LongJt re ®t- He and My Lady of the North are left alone near a rocky gorgp.

- CHAPTER Vl.—The Confederate officer “ le Union girl thread the mazes of the woods. He discovers a lonely hut, entering it in the dark a huge mastiff attacks him. The girl shoots the bruts Just in time.

CHAPTER vn.—The owner of the hut, one Jed Bungay, appears and he and his Wife give the captain a welcome. Suddenly a party of horsemen are observed coming down the road.

CHAPTER Vlll.—They are led by a man cisJmlng to be Red Lowrle, who orders Mrs. Bungay to give them food, and her husband to act as a guide. The woman discovers the man to be a disguised Impostor, attacks the intruder and there is a general melee.

CHAPTER IX.—The disguised leader proves to be Major Brennan, a Federal officer whom the Union girl recognizes. He orders the arrest of Wayne as a spy. The girl protests and says she will appeal to General Sheridan.

CHAPTER X.—Wayne held prisoner la • copse, sees files of Confederates pass Js * road at a distance and knows that Craig has delivered the message. CHAPTER Xl.—The captive is brought General Sheridan who refuses to set him free unless he reveals the secret message.

CHAPTER Xll.—Captain Wayne is led • S?_ r 8 X an<i that the woman he admires is Edith Brennan, wife of the Federal officer, who hates him. He is given the choice of revealing the Lee message or ©f being shot as a spy.

CHAPTER Xlll.—Wayne is rescued from his prison by Jed Bungay. One of them must get a quick report through the lines to General Lee and Jed starts on the mission.

CHAPTER XlV.—Finding the garb of an absent officer of the Union artillery, Wayne penetrates to the ballroom, where a social army function Is in progress, and pretends to be Col. Curran of Ohio.

CHAPTER XV.—The disguised scout is introduced to a Miss Miner. She knows the Curran family and Wayne barely escapes being unmasked. Edith Brennan appears on the scene.

CHAPTER XVl.—Mrs. Brennan recognizes Wayne. She having been led to believe that he had been sent away, learns of the treachery of Maj. Brennan and says she will save him.

CHAPTER XVII.—Mrs. Brennan secures a pass through the inner lines and goes part way with Wayne when they are suddenly confronted by Brennan.

CHAPTER XVlll.—Brennan attempts to shoot Wayne, but the latter throws his enemy to the ground senseless.

CHAPTER XlX.—Bidding My Lady of the North adieu, Wayne starts alone on a wild dash for liberty. Encountering a man in a lieutenant’s uniform, he compels him to accompany him.

CHAPTER XX.—His companion turns out to be Jed Bungay In disguise. They clear the Union lines and race towards the Confederate camp.

CHAPTER XXl.—Captain Wayne and the faithful Jed reach the Lee camp in. safety and are sent away to accompany reinforcements to General Early.

CHAPTER XXII.

The Battle in the Shenandoah. To me it has always seemed remarkable that after all my other battle experiences—Antietam, Gettysburg, the Wilderness, ay! even including that first fierce baptism of fire at Manassas —no action in which I ever participated should remain so clearly photographed upon memory as this last desperate struggle for supremacy in the Shenandoah. Every minute detail of the conflict, at least so far as I chanced to be a personal participant, rises before me as. I write, and. I doubt not I could trace to-day each step taken upon that stricken field. The reveille had not sounded when I first awoke and, rolling from my blanket, looked about me. Already a faint, dim line of gray, heralding the dawn, was growing clearly defined in the east, and making manifest those heavy fog-banks which, hanging dank and low, obscured the valley. The tired men of my troop were yet lying upon the ground, wrapped tightly in their blankets, oblivious of the deadly work before them; but t could hear the horses already moving uneasily at their picket-ropes, and observed here and there the chilled figure of a sentry leaning upon his gun, oddly distorted in form by the enveloping mist. Directly In advance of where we rested, a long hill sloped gently upward for perhaps a hundred yards, its crest topped with a thick growth of young oak-trees, yet seemingly devoid of underbrush. No troops were camped in our immediate front, and feeling curious to ascertain something of our formation, as well as to examine the lay of the land between us

and the position occupied by the enemy, I walked slowly forward, unhindered, until I attained the crest. The fog yet held the secrets of the valley safely locked within its brown hand, and I could penetrate none of its mysteries. It was like gazing down from some headland into a silent, unvexed sea. But directly across from w’here I stood, apparently along the summit of another chain of low hills similar to those we occupied, I. could perceive the flakes of numerous camp-fires leaping up into sudden radiance, while against the brightening sky a great flag lazily flapped its folds to the freshening breeze. Evidently our opponents were first astir, and the headquarters of some division of thp enemy must be across yonder. As I gazed, other fires burst forth to left and right, as far as the unaided eye could carry through the gloom, and I was thus enabled to trace distinctly those advanced lines opposing us. Experience told me their position must be a strong one, and their force heavy. As I turned to fnark our own formation, the roll of drums rang out, while the quickening notes of the reveille sounded down the long lines of slumbering men. Life returned, as if by magic, to those motionless forms, and almost in a moment all below me became astir, and I could clearly distinguish the various branches of the service, as they stretched away commingled upon either hand. We were evidently stationed close to the centre of our own position. The intervening ground sloped so gently forward, while the hill crest was so thickly crowned with trees, it looked an ideal position from which to advance in line of attack. Upon my right there appeared a break in the solidity of our line, but even as I noted it, wondering at the oversight, the dense front of an infantry column debouched from a ravine and, marching steadily forward, filled the gap. I could distinctly mark the wearied manner in which the men composing it flung themselves prostrate on the hard ground the moment they were halted —doubtless all through the long hours of the black night they had been toiling on to be in time. Aides were galloping furiously now among the scattered commands. The obscuring fog slowly rose from off the face of the valley, but all the central portion remained veiled from view. Suddenly, as I watched, the brown cloud beneath me was rent asunder here and there by little spits of fire, and it was curious to observe how those quick spiteful darts of flame swept the still length of my vista. I could distinguish no reports, —it was too far away,—but realized that the opposing pickets had caught sight of each other through the gloom. Then a big gun boomed almost directly opposite me, its flame seeming like a red-hot knife rending the mist. This had barely vanished when a sudden cheer rang out upon my left, and I turned In time to behold a thin, scattered line of gray-clad Infantrymen swarm down the steep slope into the valley. With hats drawn low, and guns advanced, they plunged at a run into the mist and disappeared. Our skirmishers had gone in; the ball had opened. I had tarried long enough; any* moment now might bring “boots and saddles,” and if I possessed the slight-

est desire for a breakfast to fight on, it behooved me to get back evlthln our lines. The memory of that animated scene in front still fresh upon me, how quiet and commonplace everything appeared down there in the hills. “What has become of Bungay?” I questioned of Colgate, who was lying upon his back with eyes fastened on a floating cloud. “Do you mean the little mountaineer who came in with us last night?” I nodded. “Oh, his mule bolted at the first shot over yonder, and the little fellow is after it. He’s down the field there Somewhere.” How time dragged! The battery to '™ r - •

left of us went into aclicn, and began firing rapidly; we could mark the black figures of the cannoneers at the nearer guns, outlined against the sky over the crest, as they moved quickly back and forth. Twice they bore motionless bodies to the rear, and laid them down tenderly beyond the fierce zone of fire. Then the heavier pieces of artillery farther down the line burst into thunder, and we silently watched a large force of infantry move slowly past us up the long slope until they halted in line of battle just behind its summit, the advanced files lying flat upon their faces and peering over. But no orders came for us. Nearly noon by the red sun hiding behind the drifting powder cloud. The ever-deepening roar of ceaseless contest had moved westward down the valley, when an aide wheeled his smoking horse in front of the Colonel, spoke a dozen hasty words, pointed, impetuously to the left, and dashed off down the line. The men leaped to their feet in eager expectancy, and as the “Fall in, fall in there, lads,” echoed joyously from lip to lip, the kindling eyes and rapid movements voiced unmistakably the soldier spirit. We moved westward down the long, bare slope }n the sunshine, through a half-dozen deserted, desolate fields, and along a narrow, rocky defile leading into a deep revine. At the mouth of the ravine we came forth into the broad valley, and halted. Just in front of us, scarcely a half-mile distant, were the fighting lines, partially enveloped in dense smoke, out from which broke patches of blue or gray, as charge succeeded charge, or the wind swept aside the fog of battle. The firii% was one continuous crash, while plunging bullets, overreaching their mark, began to chug into our own ranks, dealing death impartially to horse and man. The captain of the troop nqpct mine wheeled suddenly, a look of surprise upon his face, and fell backward into the arms of one of his men; with an intense scream of agony, almost human, the horse of my first sergeant reared and came over, crushing the rider before he could loosen foot from stirrup; the Lieuten-ant-Colonel rode slowly past us to the rear, his face deathly white, one arm, dripping blood, dangling helpless at his side. This was the hardest work of war, that silent agony which tried men in helpless bondage to unyielding discipline. I glanced anxiously along the front of my troop, but they required no word from me; with tightly set lips, and pale, stern faces, they neld their line steady as granite, closing up silently the ragged gaps torn by plunging balls.

“Captain,” said Colgate, riding to where I sat my horse, “you will see that the paper I gave you reaches home safe if I fail to come out of this?”

I reached over and gripped his hand hard.

"It will be the first thing I shall remember, Jack,” I answered earnestly. “But we may have it easy enough after all —it seems to be an infantry affair.” ’

He shook his head gravely. “No,” he said, pointing forward, “they will need us now.”

As he spoke it seemed as though the sharp firing upon both sides suddenly ceased by mutual consent. The terrible roar of small arms, which had mingled with the continuous thunder of great guns, died away into an intermittent rattling of musketry, and as the heavy smoke slowly drifted upward in a great white cloud, we could plainly distinguish the advancing Federal lines, three ranks deep, stretching to left and right in one vast, impenetrable blue wall, sweeping toward us upon a run. Where but a brief moment befftre the plain appeared deserted, it was now fairly alive with soldiery, the sun gleaming on fixed bayonets., and faces aglow with the ardor of surprise. Some one had blundered! The thin, unsupported line of gray infantry directly in our front closed up their shattered ranks hastily in desperate effort to stay the rush. We could see them jamming their muskets for volley fire, and then, with clash and clatter that drowned all other sounds, a battery of six black guns came flying madly past us, every horse on the run, lashed into frenzy by his wild rider. With carriage and caisson leaping at every Jump, the half-naked, smoke-begrimed cannoneers clinging to their seats like monkeys, they dashed recklessly forward, swung about into position, and almost before the muzzles had been well pointed, were hurling canister into that blue, victorious advance. How those gallant fellows worked! their guns leaping into air at each discharge, their movements clock work! Tense, eager, expectant, every hand among us hard gripped bn sabre hilt, we ’waited that word which sure ly could not be delayed, while from end to end, down the full length of our straining line; rang 1 out the yell of exultant pride. ; /

"Steady, men; steady there, lads!” called the old Colonel, sternly, his own eyes filled with tears. “Our turn will come.” Torn, rent, shattered, bleeding, treading upon the dead and mangled in rows, those iron men in blue came dn. They were as demons laughing at death. No rain of lead, no hall of canister, no certainty of destruction could check now the fierce impetus of that forward rush. God knows it was magnificent; the supreme effort of men Intoxicated with the enthusiasm of war! Even where we were we could see and feel the giant power in those grim ranks of steel —the tattered flags, the stern, set faces, the deep-toned chorus of “Glory, glory, hallelujah,” that echoed to their tread. Those men meant to win or die, and they rolled on as Cromweirs Iron-, sides at Marston Moor. Twice they

staggered, when the mad volleys ploughed ragged red lanes through them, but only to rally and press sternly on. They struck that crouching gray line of infantry, fairly buried it with their dense blue folds, and, with one fierce hurrah of triumph, closed down upon the guns. Even as they blotted them from sight, an aide, hatless and bleeding, his horse wounded and staggering from weakness, tore down toward us along the crest. A hundred feet away his mount fell headlong, but on foot and dying he reached our front.

“Colonel Carter,” he panted, pressing one hand upon his breast to keep back the welling blood, “charge, and hold that battery until we can bring infantry to your support.” No man among us doubted the full meaning of it —we were to save the army! The very horses seemed to feel a sense of relief, hands clinched more tightly on taut reins to hold theny in check; under the old battered hats the eyes of th© troopers gleamed hungrily. “Virginians!” and the old Colonel’s voice rang like a clarion down the breathless line, “there is where you die! Follow me!”

Slowly, like some mighty mountain torrent gaining force, we rode forth at a walk, each trooper lined to precision of review, yet instinctively taking distance for sword play. Halfway down the slight slope our line broke into a sharp trot, then, as the thrilling notes of the charge sounded above us, we swept forward in wild, impetuous tumult.

Who can tell the story of those seconds that so swiftly followed? Surely not one who saw but the vivid flash of steel, the agonized faces, the flame of belching fire. I recall the frenzied leap of my horse as we struck the line ere it could form into square; the blows dealt savagely to right and left; the blaze of a volley scorching our faces; the look of the big infantryman I rode down; the sudden thrust that saved me from a levelled gun; the quick swerving of our horses as they came in contact with the cannon; the shouts of rage; the blows; the screams of pain; the white face of Colgate as he reeled and fell. These are all in my memory, blurred, commingled, indistinct, yet distressful as any nightmare. In some way, how I know not, I realized that we had hurled them back, shattered them by our first fierce blow; that the guns were once again ours; that fifty dismounted troopers were tugging desperately at their wheels. Then that dense blue mass surged forward once again, engulfed us in its deadly folds, and with steel and bullet, sword and clubbed musket, ploughed through our broken ranks, rending us in twain, fairly smothering us by sheer force of numbers. I saw ti*e old Colonel plunge head-down into u.o ruck beneath the horses’ feet; the Major riding stone dead in his saddle, a ghastly red stain in the centre of his forehead; then Hunter, of E, went down screaming, and I knew I was the senior captain left. About me scarce a hundred men battled like demons for their lives in the midst of the guns. Even as I glanced aside at them, shielding my head with uplifted sabre from the blows rained upon me, the color-sergeant flung up his hand, and grasped his saddle pomihel to keep from falling. Out of his opening fingers I snatched the splintered staff, lifted It high up, until the rent folds of the old flag caught the dull glow of the sunlight. “ —th Virginia!” I shouted. “Rally on the colors!” I could see them coming—all that was left of them —fighting their way through the press, cleaving the mass with their blows as the prow of a ship cut the sea. With one vicious jab of the spur I led them, a thin wedge of tempered gray steel, battering, gouging, rending a passage into that solid blue wall. Inch by inch, foot by foot, yard Uy yard, slashing madly with our broken sabres, battling as men crazed with lust of blood, our very horses fighting for us with teeth and hoofs, we ploughed a lane of death through a dozen files. Then the vast mass closed in upon us, rolled completely over us. There was a flash, a vision of frenzied faces, and I knew no more. (To be continued)

On Foot and Dying He Reached Our Front.