QUANTRELL, with forty-eight of the most daring of his old band, accompanied Shepherd as far south as White River, Arkansas. He left them there to go to his old home in Maryland. He passed all Federal camps, had no trouble staying in Federal camps, eating with Federal soldiers, playing Federal himself until he reached Upton Station, in Hart County, Kentucky, where he crossed the Louisiana & Nashville Railroad, still representing himself and his men as Federal soldiers.
Near Marion County he entered the Lebanon and Campbellville turnpike at Rolling Fork and traveled north to New Market, thence east to Bradford, and from Bradford towards Hustonville, camping for the night preceding the entrance into this place at Major Dray’s, on Rolling Fork. Thirty Federal soldiers were at garrison1 at Hustonville, possessed2 of as many horses in splendid condition, and these Quantrell determined3 to appropriate. No opposition4 was made to his entrance into the town. No one imagined him to be other than a union officer on a scout5.
He dismounted quietly at a hotel in the place and entered at once into a pleasant conversation with the commander of the post. Authorized6 by their chieftain, however, to remount themselves as speedily as possible and as thoroughly7 as possible, the Guerrillas spread238 quickly over the town in search for horses, appropriating first what could be found in the public stables and later on those that were still needed to supply the deficiency, from private places.
As Quantrell conversed8 with the commander, a Federal private made haste to inform him of the kind of work the newcomers were doing, and to complain loudly of the unwarranted and outrageous9 appropriation10.
Enraged11 and excited, the commander snatched up a brace12 of revolvers as he left his headquarters and buckled13 them about him and hurried to the nearest livery stable where the best among the animals of his men had been kept. Just as he arrived, Allen Parmer was riding out mounted on a splendid horse. The Federal major laid hands upon the bridle14 and bade Parmer dismount. It was as the grappling of a wave with a rock.
No Guerrilla in the service of the South was cooler or deadlier; none less given to the emotion of fear. He looked at the Federal major a little curiously15 when he first barred the passageway of his horse and even smiled pleasantly as he took the trouble to explain to him the nature of the instructions under which he was operating.
“D——n you and d——n your instructions,” the major replied fiercely. “Dismount!”
239 “Ah,” ejaculated Parmer, “has it really come to this?” and then the two men began to draw. Unquestionably there could be but one result. The right hand of the Federal major had hardly reached the flap of his revolver, before Parmer’s pistol was against his forehead, and Parmer’s bullet had torn half the top of his head off.
In June, 1865, Quantrell started from Bedford Russell’s, in Nelson County, with John Ross, William Hulse, Payne Jones, Clark Hockinsmith, Isaac Hall, Richard Glasscock, Robert Hall, Bud Spence, Allen Parmer, Dave Helton and Lee McMurtry. His destination was Salt River.
At Newel McClaskey’s the turnpike was gained and traveled several miles, when a singularly severe and penetrating16 rain storm began. Quantrell, to escape this, turned from the road on the left and into a woods pasture near a postoffice called Smiley. Through this pasture and for half a mile further he rode until he reached the residence of a Mr. Wakefield, in whose barn the Guerrillas took shelter. Unsuspicious of danger and of the belief that the nearest enemy was at least twenty miles away, the men dismounted, unbridled their horses, and fed them at the racks ranged about the shed embracing two sides of the barn.
While the horses were eating the Guerrillas amused themselves with a sham17 battle, choosing sides and using corncobs for ammunition18. In the midst of much240 hilarity19 and boisterousness20, Glasscock’s keen eye saw through the blinding rain a column of cavalry21, one hundred and twenty strong, approaching the barn at a trot22.
He cried out instantly, and loud enough to be heard at Wakefield’s house sixty yards away: “Here they are! Here they are.” Instantly all the men were in motion and rushing to their horses.
Captain Edward Terrell, known well to Quantrell and fought stubbornly once before, had been traveling the turnpike from the direction of Taylorsville, as completely ignorant of Quantrell’s proximity23 as Quantrell had been of his, and would have passed on undoubtedly24 without a combat if the trail left by the Guerrillas in passing from the road to the pasture had not attracted attention. This he followed to within sight of the barn, understood in a moment the character of the men sheltered there, and closed upon it rapidly, firing as he came on.
Before a single Guerrilla had put a bridle upon a horse, Terrill was at the main gate of the lot, a distance of some fifty feet from the barn, and pouring such a storm of carbine bullets among them that their horses ran furiously about the lot, difficult to approach and impossible to restrain.
Fighting desperately25 and deliberately26, and driving away from the main gate a dozen or more Federals stationed there, John Ross, William Hulse, Allen Parmer, Lee McMurtry, and Bud Pence, cut their way through,241 mounted and defiant27. The entire combat did not last ten minutes. It was a fight in which every man had to do for himself and do what was done speedily.
Once above the rattling28 of musketry, the neighing of horses and the shouting of combatants, Quantrell’s voice rang out loud and clear: “Cut through, boys, cut through somehow! Don’t surrender while there is a chance to get out.”
The fire upon the Guerrillas was furious. Quantrell’s horse, a thoroughbred animal of great spirit and speed, could not be caught. His master, anxious to secure him, followed him composedly about the lot for several minutes, trying under showers of bullets to get hands upon his favorite.
At this moment Clark Hockingsmith, who was mounted and free to go away at a run, saw the peril29 of his chief, and galloped30 to his rescue. Quantrell, touched by this act of devotion, recognized it by a smile, and held out his hand to his comrade without speaking. Hockingsmith dismounted until Quantrell took his own place in the saddle, and then sprang up behind him.
Another furious volley from Terrill’s men lining31 all the fence about the great gate, killed Hockingsmith and killed the horse he and Quantrell were upon. The second hero now gave his life to Quantrell. Richard Glasscock also had secured his own horse as Hockingsmith had done and was free to ride’ away in safety as he had been.
242 Opposite the main entrance to the barn lot there was an exit uncovered by the enemy and beyond this exit a stretch of heavy timber. Those who gained the timber were safe. Hockingsmith knew it when he deliberately laid down his life for his chief, and Glasscock knew it when he also turned about and hurried up to the two men struggling there—Quantrell to drag himself out from under the horse and Hockingsmith in the agonies of death.
The second volley from the gate mortally wounded Quantrell and killed Glasscock’s horse. Then a charge of fifty shouting, shooting men swept over the barn lot. Robert Hall, Payne Jones, David Helton, and Isaac Hall had gone out some time before on foot. J. B. Tooley, A. B. Southwick and C. H. Southwick, wounded badly, escaped fighting. Only the dead man lying by his wounded chief, and Glasscock, erect32, splendid, and fighting to the last, remained as trophies33 of the desperate combat. Two balls struck Quantrell. The first, the heavy ball of a Spencer carbine, entered close to the right collar bone, ranged down along the spine34, injuring it severely35, and hid itself somewhere in the body. The second ball cut off the finger next to the little finger of the left hand, tearing it from its socket36, and lacerating the hand itself badly. The shoulder wound did its work, however, for it was a mortal wound. All the lower portion of Quantrell’s body was paralyzed and as he was lifted and carried to Wakefield’s house his243 legs were limp and his extremities37 cold and totally without sensation.
At no time did he either make complaint or moan. His wonderful endurance remained unimpaired to the end. His mind, always clear in danger, seemed to recognize that his last battle had been fought and his last encounter finished. He talked very little. Terrill came to him and asked if there was any good service he might do that would be acceptable.
“Yes,” said Quantrell quietly, “have Clark Hockingsmith buried like a soldier.”
After he had been carried to the house of Wakefield and deposited upon a pallet, he spoke38 once more to Terrell:
“While I live let me stay here. It is useless to haul a dying man about in a wagon39, jolting40 out what little life there is left in him.”
Terrell pledged his word that he should not be removed, and rode away in pursuit of those who had escaped.
Some of the fugitive41 Guerrillas soon reached the well known rendezvous42 at the house of Alexander Sayers, twenty-three miles from Wakefield’s, with tidings of the fight.
Frank James heard the story through with a set face, strangely white and sorrowful, and then he arose and cried out: “Volunteers to go back. Who will follow me to see our chief, living or dead?”
244 “I will go back,” said Allen Parmer, “and I,” said John Ross, and “I,” said William Hulse.
“Let us ride, then,” rejoined James, and in twenty minutes more—John Ross having exchanged his jaded43 horse for a fresh one—these four devoted44 men were galloping45 away to Wakefield’s.
At two o’clock in the morning they were there. Frank James dismounted and knocked low upon the door. There was the trailing of a woman’s garments, the circumspect46 tread of a watching woman’s feet, the noiseless work of a woman’s hand upon the latch47 and Mrs. Wakefield, cool and courtly, bade the strange armed men upon the threshold to enter.
Just across on the other side of the room from the door a man lay on a trundle bed. James stood over the bed, but he could not speak. If one had cared to look into his eyes they might have seen them full of tears.
Quantrell, by the dim light of a single candle, recognized James, smiled and held out his hand, and said to him very gently, though a little reproachfully: “Why did you come back? The enemy are thick about you here; they are passing every hour.”
“To see if you were alive or dead, Captain. If the first, to save you; if the last, to put you in a grave.”
“I thank you very much, Frank, but why try to take me away? I am cold below the hips48. I can neither ride, walk nor crawl; I am dead and yet I am alive.”
Frank James went to the door and called in Parmer,245 Ross and Hulse. Quantrell recognized them all in his old, calm, quiet fashion, and bade them wipe away their tears, for they were crying visibly.
Then Frank James, joined in his entreaties49 by the entreaties of his comrades, pleaded with Quantrell for permission to carry him away to the mountains of Nelson County by slow and easy stages, each swearing to guard him hour by hour until he recovered or died over his body, defending it to the last. He knew that every pledge made by them would be kept to the death. He felt that every word spoken was a golden word and meant absolute devotion. His faith in their affection was as steadfast50 and abiding51 as of old. He listened until they had done talking, with the old staid courtesy of victorious52 Guerrilla days, and then he silenced them with an answer which, from its resoluteness53, they knew to be unalterable.
“I cannot live. I have run a long time; I have come out unhurt from many desperate places; I have fought to kill and I have killed; I regret nothing. The end is close at hand. I am resting easy here and will die so. You do not know how your devotion has touched my heart, nor can you understand how grateful I am for the love you have shown me. Try and get back to your homes, and avoid if you can the perils54 that beset55 you.”
Until 10 o’clock the next day these men remained with Quantrell. He talked with them very freely of the past, but never of the earlier life in Kansas. Many246 messages were sent to absent friends, and much good advice was given touching56 the surrender of the remnant of the band. Again and again he returned to the earlier struggles in Missouri and dwelt long over the recollections and the reminiscences of the first two years of Guerrilla warfare57.
Finally the parting came, and those who looked last upon Quantrell’s face that morning as they stooped to tell him goodbye, looked their last upon it forever.
Terrill had promised Quantrell positively58 that he should not be removed from Wakefield’s house, but in three days he had either forgotten his promise or had deliberately broken his pledge. He informed General Palmer, commanding the department of Kentucky, of the facts of the fight, and of the desperate character of the wounded officer left paralyzed behind him, suggesting at the same time the advisability of having him removed to a place of safety.
General Palmer sent an ambulance under a heavy escort to Wakefield’s house and Quantrell, suffering greatly and scarcely more alive than dead, was hauled to the military hospital in Louisville and deposited there.
Until the question of recovery had been absolutely decided59 against him, but few friends were permitted into his presence. If any one conversed with him at all, the conversation of necessity was required to be carried on in the presence of an official. Mrs. Ross visited him247 thus—Christian woman, devoted to the South, and of active and practical patriotism—and took some dying messages to loved and true ones in Missouri.
Mrs. Ross left him at one o’clock in the afternoon and at four the next afternoon the great Guerrilla died.
His passing away, after a life so singularly fitful and tempestuous60, was as the passing of a summer cloud. He had been asleep, and as he awoke he called for water. A Sister of Charity at the bedside put a glass of water to his lips, but he did not drink. She heard him murmur61 once audibly—“Boys, get ready.” Then a long pause, then one word more—“Steady!” and then when she drew back from bending over the murmuring man, she fell upon her knees and prayed. Quantrell was dead.
Before his death he had become a Catholic and had been visited daily by two old priests. To one of these he made confession62, and such a confession! He told everything. He was too serious and earnest a man to do less. He kept nothing back, not even the least justifiable63 of his many homicides.
As the priest listened and listened, and as year after year of the wild war work was made to give up its secrets, what manner of a man must the priest have imagined lay dying there.
Let history be just. On that hospital bed, watched by the calm, colorless face of a Sister of Charity, a dead man lay who, when living, had filled with his deeds248 four years of terrible war history. A singularly placid64 look had come with the great change. Alike was praise or censure65, reward or punishment. Fate had done its worst and the future stood revealed to the spirit made omniscient66 by its journey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. He had done with summer’s heat and winter’s cold, with spectral67 ambuscades and midnight vigils. There would never be any war in the land of the hereafter. The swoop68 of cavalry, the roar of combat, the agony of defeat, white faces trampled69 by the iron hoofs70 of horses, the march—the bivouac, the battle; what remains71 of these when the transfiguration was done and when the river called Jordan rolled between the shores of the finite and the infinite? Nothing! And yet by those, standing72 or falling, must the great Guerrilla be judged.
Quantrell differed in some degree from every Guerrilla who was either a comrade or his contemporary. Not superior to Todd in courage and enterprise, nor to Haller, Poole, Jarrette, Younger, Taylor, Anderson, Frank James, Gregg, Lea, Maddox, Dan Vaughn, or Yager, he yet had one peculiar73 quality which none of these save Gregg, Frank James, Thrailkill, Lea and Younger possessed to the same pre-eminent degree—extraordinary resource and cunning.
All the Guerrillas fought. Indeed, at certain times and under certain conditions fighting might justly have been considered the least of their accomplishments74. A249 successful leader requires coolness, intrepidity75, robust76 health, fine horsemanship, expert pistol practice, quick perception in peril, great rapidity of movement, immense activity, and inexorable fixedness77 of purpose.
Those mentioned excelled in these qualities, but at times they were too eager to fight, took too many desperate chances, or rushed too recklessly into combats where they could not win. Quantrell counted the cost of everything; watched every way lest an advantage should be taken of him; sought to shield and save his men; strove by much strategy to have the odds78 with rather than against him; traveled a multitude of long roads rather than one short one once too often; took upon himself many disguises to prevent an embarrassing familiarity; retreat often rather than fight and be worsted; kept scouts79 everywhere; had the faculty80 of divination81 to an almost occult degree; believed in young men; paid attention to small things; listened to every man’s advice and then took his own; stood by his soldiers; obeyed strictly82 the law of retaliation83; preferred the old dispensation to the new—that is to say, the code of Moses to the code of Jesus Christ; inculcated by precept84 and example the self abnegation and devotion to comrade; fought desperately; carried a black flag; killed everything; made the idea of surrender ridiculous; snapped his fingers at death; was something of a fatalist; rarely drank; trusted few women, but these with his life; played high at cards;250 believed in religion; respected its ordinances85; went at intervals86 to church; understood human nature thoroughly; never quarreled; was generally taciturn and one of the coolest and deadliest men in a personal combat known to the border. He rode like he was carved from the horse beneath him. In an organization where skill with a pistol was a passport to leadership he shot with a revolver as Leatherstocking shot with a rifle. He drilled his men to fight equally with either hand. Fairly matched, God help the column that came in contact with him.
As to the kind of warfare Quantrell waged, that is another matter. Like the war of La Vendee, the Guerrilla war was one rather of hatred87 than of opinion. The regular Confederates were fighting for a cause and a nationality—the Guerrilla for vengeance88. Mementoes of murdered kinsmen89 mingled90 with their weapons; vows91 consecrated92 the act of enlistment93 and the cry for blood was heard from homestead to homestead. Quantrell became a Guerrilla because he had been most savagely94 dealt with, and he became a chief because he had prudence95, firmness, courage, audacity96 and common sense. In personal intrepidity he was inferior to no man. His features were pleasing without being handsome, his eyes were blue and penetrating. He had a Roman nose. In height he was five feet, eleven inches, and his form was well knit, graceful97 and sinewy98. His constitution was vigorous,251 and his physical endurance equal to an Indian. His glance was rapid and unerring. His judgment99 was clearest and surest when the responsibility was heaviest, and when the difficulties gathered thickest about him. Based upon skill, energy, perspicacity100 and unusual presence of mind, his fame as a Guerrilla will endure for generations.
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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8
conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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appropriation
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| n.拨款，批准支出 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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boisterousness
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| n.喧闹；欢跃；（风暴）狂烈 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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circumspect
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| adj.慎重的，谨慎的 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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48
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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49
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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51
abiding
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| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
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52
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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53
resoluteness
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54
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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55
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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omniscient
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| adj.无所不知的；博识的 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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intrepidity
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| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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fixedness
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| n.固定；稳定；稳固 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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divination
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| n.占卜，预测 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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retaliation
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| n.报复，反击 | |
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precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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ordinances
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| n.条例，法令( ordinance的名词复数 ) | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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kinsmen
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| n.家属，亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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enlistment
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| n.应征入伍，获得，取得 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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99
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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100
perspicacity
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| n. 敏锐, 聪明, 洞察力 | |
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101
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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