Read Ebook: Fighting Joe; Or The Fortunes of a Staff Officer. A Story of the Great Rebellion by Optic Oliver

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Ebook has 2162 lines and 72186 words, and 44 pages

"I hope we shall not meet any; but if we do, I am in no humor to lose my horse or my boots," replied Somers. "But we may meet so many of them that it would be better to trust to our horses' heels than to the quality of our steel."

"True--too many would not be agreeable; but, say a dozen or twenty of them. We could whip that number without difficulty. The fact is, gentlemen, I am a fighting man. There has been too much of this looking at the enemy, and then running away. I repeat, gentlemen, I am a fighting man."

"I am glad to hear it, and glad to have met you, for I am told there are a good many of these small plundering parties loose about this region; and I would rather fight than lose my boots," laughed Somers.

"Three of us can do a good thing," added the major.

"Four," suggested Somers.

"Four?"

"My man can fight."

"But he is a nigger; niggers won't fight."

"Alick!" exclaimed the major, glancing back at the servant.

He did not seem to be well pleased to discover one of his uncle's contrabands at this distance from home; for, with many other chivalrous southrons, he believed it would be a good thing to preserve the Union, if slavery could be preserved with it. He spoke a few words to Alick, but did not seem to enjoy the interview.

"Yes, we can whip at least twenty of the villains," added the major, as he resumed his place between Somers and Captain Barkwood. "What do you think?" he continued, turning to the regular.

"I hope we shall not meet any. I am a coward by nature. I would rather run than fight, any time," replied the captain. "Of all things I dislike these small skirmishes, these hand-to-hand fights."

"I like them; I'm a fighting man," said the major.

"I'm afraid you will have a chance to test your mettle," said Somers. "Those fellows are guerillas, if I mistake not," added he, pointing to half a dozen horsemen who were approaching them.

A SKIRMISH ON THE ROAD.

THE horsemen who had attracted the attention of Captain Somers were hard-looking fellows. They were dressed in a miscellaneous manner, their clothes being partly civilian and partly military. Portions of their garb were new, and probably at no distant period had been part of the stock in trade of some industrious clothier in one of the invaded towns; and portions were faded and dilapidated, bearing the traces of a severe march through the soft mud of Virginia. It was not easy to mistake their character.

The guerillas perceived the approaching party almost as soon as they were themselves perceived. They adopted no uncertain tactics, but instantly put spurs to their horses and galloped up to the little squad of officers. They appeared to have no doubts whatever in regard to the issue of the meeting, for they resorted to no cautionary movements, and made no prudential halts. They had evidently had everything their own way in previous encounters of this description, and seemed to be satisfied that they had only to demand an unconditional surrender in order to find their way at once to the pockets of the travellers, or to appropriate their coats and boots to the use of the rebel army.

"Halt!" said the nondescript gentleman at the head of the guerillas.

"Your business?" demanded Major Riggleston.

"Sorry to trouble you, gentlemen, but you are my prisoners," said the chief guerilla, as blandly as though he had been in a drawing-room.

"Who are you, gentlemen?" asked the major.

"I don't like to be uncivil to a well-dressed gentleman like yourself; but I haven't learned my catechism lately, and can't stop to be questioned. In one word, do you surrender?"

"Allow me a moment to consult my friends."

"Only one moment."

"Don't you think we had better surrender, Captain Somers?"

"I thought you were a fighting man," replied Somers.

"I am, when circumstances will admit of it; but they are two to our one."

"Just now you thought we were a match for at least twenty of these fellows."

"Time's up, gentlemen," said the dashing guerilla.

"What do you say, Captain Somers?"

"You can do as you please; I don't surrender, for one."

"But this is madness."

"I don't care what it is; I am going to fight my way through."

"Do you surrender?" demanded the impatient chief of the horsemen.

"No!" replied Somers, in his most decided tone.

"Then you are a dead man!" And the guerilla raised his pistol.

Somers already had one of his revolvers in his hand, and before the villain had fairly uttered the words, he presented his weapon and fired, as quick as the flash of the lightning. The leader dropped from his horse, and his pistol was discharged in the act, but the ball went into the ground. Almost at the same instant the quiet captain of the regulars fired, and wounded another of the banditti. The others, apparently astonished at this unexpected resistance, discharged their pistols, and pressed forward, with their sabres in hand, to avenge the fall of their comrades.

Somers rapidly fired the other barrels of his revolver, and so did Captain Barkwood, but without the same decisive effect as before, though two of the assailants appeared to be slightly wounded. There was no further opportunity to use firearms, and the officers drew their swords, as they fell back before the impetuous charge of the savage guerillas. Major Riggleston followed their example, and for a moment the sparks flew from the well-tempered steel of the combatants. Our officers were accomplished swordsmen, but the furious rebels appeared to be getting the better of them. Major Riggleston contrived to wheel his horse, and was so fortunate as to get out of the m?l?e with a whole skin.

At this point, when victory seemed about to perch on the rebel standard, Alick, who had thus far been ignored, brought down a third guerilla with his pistol. The negro was cool, collected, and self-possessed. He had not fired before, because the officers stood between him and the assailants. Now, as he had no sword, he stood off, and took deliberate aim at his man.

Captain Barkwood, who was a man of immense muscle, succeeded, after a desperate hand-to-hand conflict, in wounding his opponent in the sword arm. The fellow dropped his weapon, and turning his horse, fled with the utmost precipitation. The only remaining one, finding himself alone, immediately followed his example. The battle was won, and the coats and boots were evidently saved.

"Why don't you follow them?" cried Major Riggleston, rushing madly up to the spot at this decisive moment. "Hunt them down! Tear them to pieces."

"We'll leave that for our fighting man to do," replied Somers, with a smile, though he was so much out of breath with the violence of his exertions that he could scarcely articulate the words.

"Don't let them escape," added the major, furiously. "Cut them down! Don't let them plunder the country any more."

As he spoke, he put spurs to his horse, and dashed madly up the road in pursuit of the defeated guerillas.

"Your hand, Captain Somers," said the regular. "You are a trump."

"Thank you; and I am happy to reciprocate the compliment," replied the young staff officer, as he took the proffered hand of Captain Barkwood.

"As a general rule, I don't think much of volunteer officers," continued the regular; "but you are a stunning good fellow, and as plucky as a hen that has lost one of her chickens."

"I am obliged to you for your good opinion, and especially for your ornithological simile," laughed Somers, who, we need not add, was delighted with the conduct of his companion.

"My what?"

"Your ornithological simile."

"My dear fellow, you must have swallowed a quarto dictionary. If you had only used that expression before the fight, the rebels would certainly have run away, and declined to engage a man who used words of such ominous length. No matter; you can fight."

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