Mohun returned to his camp, and I remained at the house of Mr. Alibi until morning, stretched on a lounge, and wrapped in my cape.

I awoke about sunrise. As I opened my eyes, quick firing came from the direction of Burgess's Mill. The fire speedily became more rapid and continuous; I hastened to mount my horse; and as I did so, a courier pa.s.sed at full gallop.

"What news?" I asked.

"The enemy are advancing in force! They have crossed!"

"Where?"

"Near Armstrong's!"

And the courier disappeared, at full speed, in the woods. In a moment I had abandoned my design of inspecting, and was riding back.

"Armstrong's" was a mill on the Rowanty, near the Boydton road. If the enemy had crossed there, in force, it was to make a heavy advance toward the Southside road.

I was not mistaken. Reaching the debouchment of the "Quaker road," I found the cavalry drawn up in order of battle--a dispatch had been sent to hurry up the rest--on the lower waters of the Rowanty, and General Hampton informed me of the situation of affairs.

The enemy had advanced in heavy force at sunrise, driven in the pickets, and, crossing the Rowanty, seized on the Boydton road and the bridge at Burgess's Mill. From prisoners taken, it was ascertained that the force consisted of the Second, Fifth, and part of the Ninth Corps; Grant, Meade, and Hanc.o.c.k, accompanying the troops in person.

That left nothing in doubt. If any remained, it was dispelled by the fact, stated to me by General Hampton, that the Federal troops "had eight days' rations, and were certainly bound for the Southside road."[1]

[Footnote 1: His words.]

I had scarcely received this intelligence from General Hampton, when a heavy attack was made upon General William H.F. Lee, holding the Quaker road.

From that moment the battle began to rage with determined fury, and the entire force of cavalry was engaged in an obstinate fight with the advancing enemy. It was a bitter and savage affair. The men charged; dismounted and fought behind impromptu breastworks of rails; fell back only when they were pushed by the weight of the great column rolling forward; and for hours the whole field was a hurly-burly of dust, smoke, blood, uproar, carbine shots, musket shots, and the long threatening roar of cannon.

The Stuart horse artillery fought like tigers. The men stuck to their guns amid a storm of bullets, and vindicated, as they had done before on many fields, the name of "my pets," given them by Stuart! Among the officers, Will Davenant was seen, sitting his horse amid the smoke, as calm as a May morning; and I shall never forget the smile on the face of this young bull-dog, when he said:--

"I think we can hold our ground, colonel."

And looking over his shoulder, in the direction of Five Forks, he murmured:--

"This is a good place to die, too."

A thundering cheer rose suddenly above the roar of the guns, and the line of dismounted sharp-shooters behind their rail breastworks opened a more steady and resolute fire as the enemy appeared to pause.

At the same moment young Preston Hampton, a son of the general, and one of my favorites, from his courage and courtesy, pa.s.sed by at a gallop, cheering and encouraging the skirmishers.

I spurred after him. Just as I reached him, I saw the arm waving above his head suddenly drop; his sword escaped from his grasp, and he fell from the saddle to the ground.

In an instant I had dismounted, and with other officers who hastened up, had raised him from the earth.

As we did so, the group, consisting now of no less than seven, attracted the enemy's attention; a hot fire was opened on us, and before we could bear the dying youth in our arms beyond the reach of the fire, four out of the seven officers were shot.[1]

[Footnote 1: Fact]

The boy was placed in an ambulance, and borne to the rear; but the wound was fatal, and he soon afterward expired. A staff officer afterward informed me that General Hampton did not leave his tent for a fortnight--scarcely replying when he was spoken to, and prostrated by grief.

I could understand that. The death of the brave youth sent a pang to my own heart--and he was only my friend. The great heart of the father must have been nearly broken.

So fell Preston Hampton. Peace to his ashes! No kinder or braver spirit ever died for his country!

x.x.xIV.

I AM CAPTURED.

Hour after hour the battle continued to rage; the enemy making resolute attempts to brush off the cavalry.

It was now discovered that Hanc.o.c.k's corps had crossed the Rowanty, supported by Crawford's division, with two corps behind; and as General Hanc.o.c.k held the bridge at Burgess's, there seemed little probability that Lee could cross a force to attack him.

But this was done. While the cavalry fought the blue ma.s.ses with obstinate courage on the Boydton road, Mahone, that daring soldier, crossed a column of three brigades over the Rowanty, below Burgess's; and suddenly the enemy found themselves attacked in flank and rear.

Mahone did not pause. He advanced straight to the a.s.sault; swept every thing before him, and thrusting his small force in between Hanc.o.c.k and Crawford, tore from the former four hundred prisoners, three battle- flags, and six pieces of artillery.

The a.s.sault had been sudden and almost overwhelming. While hotly engaged with Hampton in front, the enemy had all at once staggered beneath the heavy blow dealt on their flank and rear. They turned to strike at this new foe; and the shock which followed was rude, the onset b.l.o.o.d.y.

Mahone met it with that dash and stubbornness now proverbial in the army; and, hurling his three brigades against the advancing column, broke through three lines of battle, and drove them back.[1]

[Footnote 1: "In the attack subsequently made by the enemy, General Mahone broke three lines of battle."--General Lee's Dispatch of October 28, 1864.]

Night was near, and the fighting still continued. The enemy seemed both to give up the ground; and were holding their position obstinately, when a determined charge from a brigade of Mahone's drove every thing in its front.

I had been to carry a message for General Hampton, upon whose staff I served during the battle, and now found myself swept forward by the brigade charging.

In front of them, I recognized General Davenant, on horseback, and sword in hand, leading the charge. His son Charley was beside him.

"We are driving them, colonel!" exclaimed the general, with a proud smile "and look! yonder are some of their general officers flying from that house!"

As he spoke, he pointed to three hors.e.m.e.n, riding at full speed from a house known as Burgess's; their splendid suit of staff officers indicated that they were of high rank.

In fact, the three hors.e.m.e.n who retired thus hastily, would have proved a rich prize to us. They were Generals Grant, Meade and Hanc.o.c.k.[1]

[Footnote 1: Fact.]

They made a narrow escape, and the question suggests itself, "What would have been the result of their capture?" I know not; I only know that Grant, Meade and Hanc.o.c.k, came near having an interview with General Lee that night--a peaceful and friendly talk at his head-quarters.

I did not think of all this then. The hot charge dragged me. I had come to partic.i.p.ate in it by the mere chance of battle--but this apparent accident was destined to have very singular results.

I had ridden with General Davenant, as his brigade swept forward, and we were breasting a heavy fire on his front, when a sudden cry of "Cavalry! look out!" came from our left.

General Davenant wheeled his horse; went at full speed, accompanied by his son and myself, through the bullets, in the direction indicated; and carried onward by his animal, as I was by my own, rode right into a column of blue cavalry, advancing to attack our flank.

Such was the "chance of battle!" At one moment General Davenant was in command of a brigade which was driving the enemy, and sweeping every thing before it. At the next moment he had been carried by the powerful animal which he bestrode straight into the ranks of the Federal cavalry, hidden by the woods and approaching darkness--had been surrounded in an instant, fired upon, and half dragged from his saddle, and captured, together with his son Charley.