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That night Calhoun was waited upon by Captain Mathews, who in the name of Conway demanded an abject apology. This, of course, was refused, and a formal challenge was delivered. Calhoun at once accepted it, and referred Mathews to his friend Lieutenant Matson.
“Look here, Pennington,” said Mathews, “I do not want you to think I uphold Conway in what he did. I am no saint, but I never insulted a woman. Conway would not have done it if he had not been drunk. I was just going to the lady’s rescue when you struck the blow. There was no need of knocking Conway down. I understand the girl is a Lincolnite, but that makes no difference, Conway is right in demanding satisfaction.”
“And I am willing to give it to him,” answered Calhoun. “The only thing I ask is that the affair be arranged quickly. Let it be to-morrow morning at sunrise. And, Captain, understand that I bear you no grudge. I consider your action perfectly honorable.”
Mathews bowed and withdrew. He and Matson quickly arranged the preliminaries. The meeting was to take place at sunrise, in a secluded spot near Danville; the weapons were pistols, the distance fifteen paces. Only one shot was to be allowed. The affair had to be managed with the utmost secrecy; above all things, it had to be kept from the ears of Morgan. But it was whispered from one to another until half the officers knew of it. None blamed Calhoun, yet none could see how Conway could avoid giving the challenge.
“Both are dead men,” said an officer, with a grave shake of the head. “Morgan ought to be told; he would stop it.”
“Tell Morgan if you dare!” cried half a dozen voices.
“Oh, I am not going to tell; if they wish to kill each other it’s none of my business,” replied the officer, turning away.
Calhoun was known as the best pistol shot in the brigade, and Conway was no mean marksman. Everyone thought it would be a bloody affair. Many were aware of the enmity which Conway held toward Calhoun, and knew he would kill him if he could. Meanwhile Jennie slept unconscious of the danger Calhoun was in for her sake.
It was a beautiful autumn morning when they met. The sun was just rising, touching woods, and fields, and the spires of the distant town with its golden light. The meeting was in a place which Calhoun well knew. How often he had played there when a boy! It was an open glade in the midst of a grove of mighty forest trees. The trees had taken on the beautiful hues of autumn, and they flamed with red and gold and orange.
At least twenty had assembled to witness the duel. A surgeon stood near with an open case of instruments at his feet. Many glanced at it, but turned their eyes away quickly. It was too suggestive.
The principals were placed in position. A hush came over the little group of spectators. Even the breeze seemed no longer to whisper lovingly among the trees, but took upon itself the wail of a dirge, and a shower of leaves, red as blood, fell around the contestants.
“Are you ready, gentlemen?” asked Mathews.
“Ready!” answered Calhoun.
“Ready!” said Conway.
“One – two – three – fire!”
Conway’s pistol blazed, and Calhoun felt a slight twinge of pain. The ball had grazed his left side, near the heart, and drawn a few drops of blood. For a moment Calhoun stood, then coolly raised his pistol and fired in the air.
The spectators raised a shout of applause; but Conway was white with rage. “I demand another shot,” he shouted, “Pennington’s action has made a farce of this meeting.”
“It was the condition that but one shot should be allowed,” remonstrated Mathews.
“The condition has not been fulfilled,” angrily replied Conway; “I demand another shot.”
In the mean time Matson had gone up to Calhoun, and seeing the hole through his clothing, exclaimed. “My God! are you shot, Lieutenant?”
“A mere scratch; it’s nothing,” answered Calhoun.
An examination showed it to be so, but blood had been drawn. This should have satisfied Conway, but it did not; he still insisted on a second shot. This the seconds were about to refuse absolutely, when Calhoun asked to be heard.
“Although Captain Conway richly deserved the blow I gave him,” he said, “yet as a gentleman and an officer I felt he could do no less than challenge me. I have given him the satisfaction he demanded. If he insists on continuing the duel, I shall conclude it is his desire to kill me through personal malice, not on account of his injured honor, which according to the code has been satisfied. This time there will be no firing in the air. Give him the second shot, if he desires it.”
“No! No!” cried a dozen voices.
Mathews went up to Conway, and speaking in a low tone, said: “You fool, do you want to be killed? Pennington will kill you as sure as fate, if you insist on the second shot. Now you are out of it honorably.”
Conway mumbled something, and Mathews turning around, said: “Gentlemen, my principal acknowledges himself satisfied. It is with pleasure that I compliment both of the principals in this affair. They have conducted themselves like true Kentucky gentlemen, and I trust they will part as such.”
“Shake hands, gentlemen, shake hands,” cried their friends, crowding around them.
Calhoun gave his freely, but Conway extended his coldly. There was a look in his eye which foreboded future trouble.
Such a meeting could not be kept secret, and it soon came to the ears of Morgan. Both of the principals, as well as the seconds were summoned into his presence. He listened to all the details in silence, and then said:
“It is well that this affair resulted as it did. If either one of the principals had fallen, the other would have been summarily dealt with. Both of you,” looking at Conway and Calhoun, “were to blame. Lieutenant Pennington should not have struck the blow: no gentleman will tamely submit to the indignity of a blow. As for you, Captain Conway, I am surprised that you, one of my officers, should insult a lady. If this offence is ever repeated, intoxication will be no plea in its extenuation. Heretofore it has been our proud boast that where Morgan’s men are there any lady, be she for North or South, is as safe as in her own home. Let us see that it will always be so.”
The men who heard burst into a wild cheer. Each of them was a knight to uphold the honor of woman.
As Captain Conway listened to the reprimand, his red face became redder. His heart was full of anger, but he was diplomat enough to listen with becoming humility. To his fellow-officers his plea was intoxication, and in the stirring times which followed, his offence was forgotten.
Scouts came dashing into the city with the startling intelligence that a large Federal force was advancing on the place. It was not long before a battle was being waged through the streets. Before an overwhelming force of infantry Morgan had to fall back.
Bragg was in full retreat, and to Morgan fell the lot of guarding the rear. As they were falling back from Camp Dick Robinson, Calhoun met a Major Hockoday, who to him was the bearer of sad news. The Major said that that morning his men pursued a Federal scout who had ventured inside their lines. In his effort to escape he had fallen over the cliff of Dick River, and been killed. “And I am sorry to say,” added the Major, “that that scout was your cousin, Captain Fred Shackelford.”
“Are you sure?” asked Calhoun, in a trembling voice.
“Perfectly sure. I knew him too well to be mistaken. For the sake of his father, I sent word to the overseer of the General’s plantation so that the body could be found, and given Christian burial.”
“Thank you,” replied Calhoun, as he turned away with swimming eyes. All his old love for his cousin had returned. There was little heart in Calhoun for battle that day. It was weeks before he learned that Fred was not dead.
CHAPTER X.
HARTSVILLE
When Bragg evacuated Kentucky his weary army found rest at Murfreesboro. This little city is thirty-two miles southeast of Nashville, situated on the railroad leading from Nashville to Chattanooga. It had already become famous by the capture of a Federal brigade there in August, by General N. B. Forrest, and was destined to become the theatre of one of the greatest battles of the war.
In the Federal army a great change had taken place. General Buell had been relieved from command, and General W. Rosecrans, the hero of the battle of Corinth, appointed in his place. This general assembled his army at Nashville. Thus the two great armies were only thirty-two miles apart, with their outposts almost touching.
Bragg, believing that it would be impossible for Rosecrans to advance before spring, established his army in winter quarters, and the soldiers looked forward to two or three months of comparative quiet.
Rosecrans’s first duty was to reopen the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, which had been so thoroughly destroyed by Morgan. An army of men did the work – a work which took them weeks to accomplish. But it was not in the nature of Morgan to be quiet. Not only he, but his men, fretted in camp life. Its daily routine with its drills did not suit them. Their home was the saddle, and they wanted no other. Therefore Morgan began to look around in search of a weak point in the Federal lines. For this purpose Calhoun and his scouts were kept busy. They seemed to be omnipresent, now here, now there. They would ride in between the Federal posts, learn of the citizens where the enemy were posted, and whether their camps were guarded with vigilance or not. Many a prisoner was picked up, and much valuable information obtained. In this way Morgan soon knew, as well as the Federal commander himself, how his troops were posted, and the number at each post.
Taking everything into consideration, Calhoun reported that Hartsville offered the best opening for an attack. “It is the extreme eastern outpost of the Federals,” he said. “The nearest troops to them are at Castalian Springs, nine miles away. The country from here to Hartsville is entirely free of Federal troops, and we can approach the place unobserved. The Cumberland River is low and can be forded. But if you wish, I will go and make a thorough reconnaissance of the place.”
“Go, and be back as soon as possible,” replied Morgan, “but be careful; do not take too many risks.”
With a dozen of his trusty scouts, Calhoun had no trouble in reaching the bank of the Cumberland River opposite Hartsville. Here, concealed in the woods, through his glass he noted the position of every regiment, and drew a map of the camp. But he was not satisfied with this. Under the cover of darkness he crossed the river, determined to learn more. Above all, he wished to learn where the enemy’s pickets were posted at night, their exact force, as nearly as possible, and the discipline which they were under. He wanted to do all this without alarming them.
After crossing the river he concluded to call at a commodious farm-house, situated some three miles from Hartsville. He was almost certain of a hearty welcome; there were few disloyal to the South in that section. At first he was taken for a Federal soldier in disguise, and admittance was refused; but once the inmates were convinced that he was one of Morgan’s men, the heartiness of his welcome made up for the coldness of his first reception.
The planter was well posted. There was one brigade at Hartsville. Until a few days before, the brigade had been commanded by a Colonel Scott, but he had been relieved by a Colonel Moore. This Moore was the colonel of one of the regiments at Hartsville, and had been in the service but a short time. Most of the troops were raw and inexperienced. Calhoun was glad to hear all this.
In the morning, dressed as a rough country boy, he made a circuit of the entire place. This he did by going on foot, and keeping to the fields and woods. The location of every picket post was carefully noted, and the best way to approach each one. In two or three instances he did not hesitate to approach soldiers who were foraging outside of the lines, and in a whining tone, enter into conversation with them, informing them he was looking for some of his father’s pigs.
“Mighty ’fraid sum ov yo-uns Yanks got ’em,” he said, with a sigh.
“No doubt, sonny, no doubt,” replied a soldier with a hearty laugh. “You see, if a pig comes up and grunts at the flag, we have a right to kill him for the insult offered. Probably your pigs were guilty of this heinous crime, and were sacrificed for the good of the country.”
“Do yo-uns mean the Yanks hev ’em?” asked Calhoun.
“Undoubtedly, sonny. What are you going to do about it?”
“Goin’ to tell dad,” replied Calhoun, as he limped off, for he pretended to be lame.
Calhoun found that the post was picketed much more strongly to the east than the west, for Castalian Springs lay to the west, and the Federals had no idea that an attack would come from that direction. If attacked, the Confederates would try to force the ford, or they would come from the east. For this reason Calhoun decided that Morgan should cross the river in between Hartsville and Castalian Springs, and assault from the west.
There was a ferry two miles below Hartsville where the infantry could cross the river, but the cavalry would have to go to a ford seven miles or within two miles of Castalian Springs. To his surprise, but great gratification, he found neither the ferry nor the ford guarded.
Calhoun recrossed the river in safety, and joining his scouts, whom he had left on the southern side of the river, he lost no time in making his way back to Murfreesboro. Morgan heard his report with evident satisfaction.
“Our only danger,” said Calhoun, as he finished his report, “is from the force at Castalian Springs. From what I could learn there are at least five thousand Federals there. To be successful we must surprise the camp at Hartsville, capture the place, and re-cross the river before the force from the Springs can reach us. A hard thing to do, but I believe it can be done.”
“So do I,” said Morgan; “with General Bragg’s consent, I will start at once.”
General Bragg not only gave his consent, but owing to the importance of the expedition, added to Morgan’s cavalry brigade two regiments of infantry and a battery.
The force marched to within five miles of Hartsville, and halted until night. The night proved very dark, and the way was rough. There was but one small ferry-boat in which to cross the infantry, and it was 5:30 in the morning before the infantry were all across, and in position two miles from Hartsville.
The cavalry had had even a rougher time than the infantry, and one large regiment had not yet reported. But Morgan determined not to wait, for it would soon be light, and they would be discovered. So with thirteen hundred men Morgan moved to capture a Federal brigade of over two thousand, and in a position of their own choosing.
To Calhoun and his scouts was assigned the difficult but important task of capturing the outposts without alarming the camp. The success of the whole movement might depend upon this.
So adroitly did Calhoun manage it, that the surprised pickets were captured without firing a gun. Nor was the Confederate force discovered until they were within four hundred yards of the Federal camp, and advancing in line of battle. It was now getting light, and a negro camp-follower discovered them and gave the alarm.
The Federals having been taken by surprise and most of the officers and men being raw and inexperienced, consternation reigned in the camp. But they formed their lines, and for a few moments put up a brave fight. Then their lines broke. Colonel Moore did not seem to have his brigade well in hand, and each regiment fought more or less independently. In a short time only the One Hundred and Fourth Illinois regiment was left on the site of the camp to continue the battle. Although this regiment had been only three months in the service and had never been in an engagement before, under the command of their brave Lieutenant Colonel, Douglass Hapeman, they did not surrender until they were entirely surrounded and nearly two hundred of their number had been shot down.
Morgan warmly complimented this regiment on its bravery, saying if all the regiments had been like it, the result of the contest would have been doubtful. In one hour and a quarter after the battle opened, all was over. A whole brigade had laid down their arms to the prowess of Morgan.
But now a new danger arose. Calhoun had been sent toward Castalian Springs to watch the enemy in that direction. One of his scouts came dashing in with the intelligence that five thousand Federals were hurrying to the relief of Hartsville. They must be stopped, and time given to get the prisoners and munitions of war across the Cumberland.
Morgan hurried two regiments to where Calhoun and his little band of scouts were resisting the advance of the enemy. The show of strength made halted the Federals, and a precious hour and a half was gained. In this time, by almost superhuman efforts, Morgan had succeeded in crossing the prisoners and his men to the south side of the Cumberland. They were now safe from pursuit.
It was during the fight with the approaching reinforcements that an incident happened which caused Calhoun many hours of uneasiness. During the hottest of the engagement a ball, evidently fired from the rear, grazed his cheek. He thought little of it, supposing some one had fired in his rear, not seeing him. But in a moment a ball passed through his hat. Wheeling suddenly, to his surprise he saw Captain Conway with a smoking revolver in his hand.
“You are shooting carelessly, Captain!” exclaimed Calhoun, angrily, riding up to him.
For a moment the Captain cowered, then recovering himself, he said: “You are mistaken, Lieutenant; it was some one in the rear. The same balls came close to me.” Just then the order was given to fall back, and Conway rode hastily away. There was no direct proof, but Calhoun was certain Conway had tried to kill him. More than one man has been disposed of in time of battle by a personal enemy. Many an obnoxious officer has bitten the dust in this manner. Calhoun could only bide his time and watch. But he now firmly believed his life was in more danger from Conway than it was in battle with the Federals.
Hartsville, considering everything, was one of the greatest victories Morgan ever won, as he captured a whole brigade with a vastly inferior force. The Federals lost in killed, wounded, and captured two thousand one hundred men. Of these nearly three hundred were killed and wounded. Morgan’s actual force engaged was only thirteen hundred, and of these he lost one hundred and forty, a small loss considering he was the assaulting party.
The capture of Hartsville caused the utmost chagrin in the Federal army, and not only in the army but throughout the North. Even President Lincoln telegraphed asking for full particulars. General Halleck ordered the dishonorable dismissal of Colonel Moore, but the order was never carried into effect. Of his bravery there was no question.
This victory caused the name of Morgan to be more feared than ever. “Morgan is coming!” was a cry which caused fear and trembling in many a Yankee’s heart.
President Davis of the Confederate States, shortly after the capture of Hartsville, visited Murfreesboro, and as a reward for his services, presented Morgan with a commission as Brigadier-General in the Confederate army. General Hardie asked that he be made a Major-General. Hardie knew Morgan, and appreciated his worth, but for some reason President Davis refused the request.
CHAPTER XI.
MORGAN’S SECOND GREAT RAID
General Morgan was allowed but ten days’ rest after his return from his great victory at Hartsville. General Rosecrans had finished repairing the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, and trains were running again between the two cities. Reports had been brought to General Bragg that the Federal troops at Nashville were suffering greatly for want of food; that military stores of all kinds were short; and he thought if the road were again broken, Rosecrans would be forced to fall back on account of supplies. Who so willing and able to break it as General Morgan?
But there was little use of trying to raid the road south of Bowling Green, for it was guarded by thousands of men. To cripple the road effectually meant another raid clear through the state of Kentucky. To this General Morgan was not averse.
When his men heard that another raid was to be made into Kentucky, their enthusiasm knew no bounds. What cared they for the dangers to be encountered, for long rides, for sleepless nights, and the tremendous fatigue they would be called upon to endure? They were to stir up the Yankees once more; that was enough.
“Kentucky! Ho, for Kentucky!” was their cry, and they shouted and sang until they could shout and sing no longer for want of breath.
Bragg was fully alive to the importance of the expedition, and was willing to give Morgan all the troops he could possibly spare. Morgan was soon at the head of the most formidable force he had ever commanded. It consisted of over three thousand cavalry, with a full battery, besides his own light battery.
The task which had been assigned him was indeed a perilous one. It was to ride almost to the very gates of Louisville, and to destroy the immense trestle works at Muldraugh Hill. This done, the Louisville and Nashville Railroad would again be effectually crippled for weeks.
He set out from Alexandria, on December 22, and in two days he was in Glasgow, Kentucky. The citizens of Glasgow had come to look upon Morgan as a monthly visitor by this time; therefore they were not surprised at his coming. Here he met with the first Federal force, which was quickly scattered.
Remaining in Glasgow only long enough to rest his horses, he pushed on for Mumfordsville, where the great bridge spans the Green River. But learning that the place was held by so strong a force that it would be madness for him to attack it, he passed a few miles to the right, and struck the railroad at Bacon Creek. Here a stout block-house, defended by ninety soldiers, guarded the bridge. They put up a stout defence in hopes of being reinforced from Mumfordsville, but at last were compelled to surrender, the block-house being knocked to pieces by Morgan’s artillery.
Burning the bridge and destroying four miles of road, the command moved on to Nolan, where another block-house was captured and a bridge burned. This was the third time that these bridges had been destroyed by Morgan.
Elizabethtown was the next goal to be reached. As they approached the place, Calhoun, who was in advance with his scouts, was met by an officer bearing a flag of truce, who handed him a dirty envelope, on which was scrawled:
Elizabethtown, Ky., December 27, 1862.To the Commander of the Confederate Force.
Sir: I demand an unconditional surrender of all of your forces. I have you surrounded, and will compel you to surrender.
I am, sir, your obedient servant,H. S. Smith,Commanding U. S. Force.
“Well,” exclaimed Calhoun, as he glanced at it, “I have often been told that Yankees have cheek, but this is the greatest exhibition of it I have met. Who is H. S. Smith, anyway?”
“One of the numerous Smith family, I reckon,” dryly responded one of his men. “He should have signed it John Smith. This would have concealed his identity, and prevented us from knowing what a fool he is.”
But the message was taken back to Morgan, and Calhoun never saw him laugh more heartily than when he read it.
“Go back and tell Mr. Smith,” replied Morgan, trying to keep his face straight, “that he has made a little mistake. It is he who is surrounded, and must surrender.”
The message was taken back, but Mr. Smith answered pompously that it was the business of United States officer to fight, not to surrender.
“Very good,” replied Calhoun, “get back and let us open the ball.”
It took only a few shells from Morgan’s battery to convince Mr. Smith he had made a mistake, and that it was the business of at least one United States officer to surrender, and not to fight. Six hundred and fifty-two prisoners fell into Morgan’s hands, also a large quantity of military stores. The stores were destroyed. At Elizabethtown Morgan was in striking distance of the object of his expedition, the great trestles at Muldraugh Hill. There were two trestles, known as the upper and lower, both defended by stout stockades.
General Morgan divided his forces, Colonel Breckinridge with one brigade attacking the lower stockade, while Morgan with Colonel Duke’s brigade attacked the upper. A couple of hours of severe shelling convinced the commanders of these stockades also that it was the duty of a United States officer to surrender, and not to fight. Seven hundred more prisoners and an immense store of military goods were added to Morgan’s captures. The goods, as usual, were destroyed.
It was but a few minutes after the surrender of the block-houses when the trestles were a mass of flames. They were immense structures, each nearly fifteen hundred feet long, and from eighty to ninety feet high. Thus the object of the expedition had been gained. Again the Louisville and Nashville Railroad was rendered useless to Rosecrans’s army.
But Morgan’s danger had just commenced. Thus far he had had his own way. The enraged Federals were moving heaven and earth to compass his capture. A brigade was transported from Gallatin to Mumfordsville by rail, joined to the force at that place, and ordered to move east and cut off his retreat. The forces in Central Kentucky were ordered to concentrate at Lebanon. Thus they hoped to cut off every line of retreat.
“Don’t let Morgan escape,” was the command flashed to every Federal officer in Kentucky.
From Muldraugh Hill Morgan marched for Bardstown. This led him across the Lebanon Railroad. Before all of his force had crossed the Rolling Fork of Salt River, the pursuing force, under Colonel Harlan, came up and engaged the rear. The rear guard under Colonel Duke gallantly resisted them until all had crossed in safety, but during the action Colonel Duke was severely wounded by a piece of shell. General Boyle, the Federal commander at Louisville, gave out that he had died of his wounds and there was great rejoicing. But the gallant Colonel lived, to the disappointment of his enemies.
The Federals, in close pursuit, left Morgan little time to destroy the railroad leading to Lebanon, but he captured a stockade, and burned the bridge at Boston. Reaching Bardstown in safety, he pushed rapidly on to Springfield. From that place he could threaten either Danville or Lebanon. His rapid movements puzzled the Federals, and prevented them from concentrating their forces, for they knew not which way he would go next.
From Springfield Morgan turned south, leaving Lebanon a few miles to his left, so as to avoid the large force at that place; he reached New Market a few hours in advance of his pursuers. To avoid the troops which had been concentrating at Hodgensville, he now took the road to Campbellsville.
In going through the Muldraugh range of hills to the south of New Market, his rear guard was struck by the advance of the Federals under Colonel Hoskins, and was only beaten back after a lively fight. There was now more or less skirmishing for some miles.
There now happened to Calhoun one of the most thrilling adventures he experienced during the whole war. As the post of danger was now in the rear, he was there with his scouts doing valiant service in holding back the Federals. There had been no skirmishing for some time, and nothing had been seen or heard of their pursuers. Not thinking of danger, he and a Captain Tribble halted their horses by the side of a bubbling spring and dismounted to get a drink, the rest of the guard passing on. They lingered longer than they thought, and had just remounted their horses when they were suddenly surprised by three horsemen, who came galloping up, yelling to them to surrender. For Calhoun and Tribble to snatch their revolvers and fire was the work of a moment. The Federals returned the fire. A pistol duel now took place, and both sides emptied their revolvers, but strange to say, no one was hurt.
Throwing down their now useless weapons, all drew their swords and furiously spurred their horses on to the combat. It was almost like a mediæval contest, where knight met knight with sword only. While one of the Federals engaged Captain Tribble, two rode straight for Calhoun, the foremost a fine-looking man in the uniform of a Federal colonel. Parrying his blow, Calhoun, by a skilful turn of his horse, avoided the other. They wheeled their horses, and came at Calhoun again. Again did Calhoun parry the fierce blow aimed at him; at the same time he managed to prick the horse of the other, so that for a moment it became unmanageable. This left Calhoun free to engage the Colonel alone, who aimed at him a tremendous blow. This blow Calhoun avoided, and as it met with no resistance, its force threw the Colonel forward on his saddle. As quick as lightning, the point of Calhoun’s sword reached his heart, and the combat was over.
During this time Tribble had vanquished his antagonist. The remaining Federal, seeing one of his comrades dead and the other a prisoner, threw down his sword and surrendered. The dead officer proved to be Colonel D. J. Halisy of the Sixth Kentucky cavalry.
This conflict was long remembered as one of the most remarkable ever engaged in by any of Morgan’s men, and Calhoun was warmly congratulated by the whole command on his prowess.
The death of Colonel Halisy seemed to dampen the enthusiasm of Morgan’s pursuers. Although they followed him to Campbellsville, and from Campbellsville to Columbia, the pursuit was a feeble one. In fact, so timid was Colonel Hoskins that he ordered his advance not to engage Morgan if they found him at Columbia, but to wait for the column from Hodgensville to come up. From Columbia all pursuit ceased, and Morgan was left to return to Tennessee at his leisure.
