CHAPTER XIII.

A STEAMBOAT CAPTAIN AND THE CAPTURE OF POUND GAP.

T

HE night closed in upon the happy, but tired men; another night, the long watches

of which were lived out upon the frozen ground. Garfield took the time to consider the situation. Marshall's forces were broken and demoralized. Though in full retreat, they might be overtaken and destroyed; but his own troops were half dead with fatigue and exposure, and had less than three days' rations. In these circumstances, Garfield prudently decided to occupy Prestonburg, and await the arrival of supplies before dealing a final blow at the enemy. On the day succeeding the battle he issued the following address to his army, which tells, in brief, the story of the campaign:

"SOLDIERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH BRIGADE: I am proud of you all! In four weeks you have marched, some eighty, and some a hundred miles, over almost impassable roads. One night in four you have slept, often in the storm, with only a wintry sky above your heads. You have marched in the face of a foe of more than double your number, led on by chiefs who have won a national re

nown under the old flag, entrenched in hills of his own choosing, and strengthened by all the appliances of military art. With no experience but the consciousness of your own manhood, you have driven him from his strongholds, pursued his inglorious flight, and compelled him to meet you in battle. When forced to fight, he sought the shelter of rocks and hills. You drove him from his position, leaving scores of his bloody dead unburied. His artillery thundered against you, but you compelled him to flee by the light of his burning stores, and to leave even the banner of his rebellion behind him. I greet you as brave men. Our common country will not forget you. She will not forget the sacred dead who fell beside you, nor those of your comrades who won scars of honor on the field. I have recalled you from the pursuit, that you may regain vigor for still greater exertions. Let no one tarnish his wellearned honor by any act unworthy an American soldier. Remember your duties as American citizens, and sacredly respect the rights and property of those with whom you may come in contact. Let it not be said that good men dread the approach of an American army. Officers and soldiers, your duty has been nobly done. For this I thank you."

The retreat of Marshall had by no means gotten rid of the dangers by which the small army of the Union colonel was hampered. A fresh peril now

beset the force. An unusually violent rain-storm broke out, the mountain gorges were all flooded, and the Sandy rose to such a height that steamboat-men pronounced it impossible to ascend the stream with supplies. The troops were almost out of rations, and the rough, mountainous country was incapable of supporting them. Colonel Garfield had gone down the river to its mouth. He ordered the "Sandy Valley," a small steamer, which had been in the quarter-master's service, to take in a load of supplies and start up. The captain declared it was impossible. Efforts were made to get other vessels, but without success.

Finally, Garfield ordered the captain and crew on board, and stationed himself at the wheel. The captain still protested that no boat could possibly stem the raging current, but Garfield turned her head up the stream and began the perilous trip. The water in the usually shallow river was sixty feet deep, and the tree-tops along the banks were almost submerged. The little vessel trembled from stem to stern at every motion of the engines, the water whirled her about as if she were a skiff, and the utmost speed the steam could give her was three miles an hour. When night fell the captain of the boat begged permission to tie up. To attempt ascending the flood in the darkness was madness. But Garfield kept his place at the wheel, now as always no mere considerations of danger affected his purpose. Finally, in one of

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the sudden bends of the river they drove, with a full head of steam, into the quicksand of the bank. Every effort to back off was in vain. Mattocks were procured, and excavations made around the embedded bow. Still she stuck. Garfield, at last, ordered a boat to be lowered to take a line across to the opposite bank. The crew protested against venturing out on the flood. Garfield leaped into the boat and steered it over. The force of the current carried them far below the point they sought to reach, but they finally succeeded in making fast to a tree, and rigging a windlass with rails sufficiently powerful to draw the vessel off and get her once more afloat.

It was on Saturday that the boat left the mouth of the Sandy. All night, all day Sunday, and all through Sunday night they kept up their struggle with the current, Garfield leaving the wheel only eight hours out of the whole time, and that during the day. By nine o'clock on Monday morning they reached the camp, and were received with tumultuous cheering. Garfield himself could hardly escape being borne to head-quarters on the shoulders of the delighted men.

It was but natural that the confused retreat of the troops under Humphrey Marshall should have precipitated an alarm among the simple country people. The flying rebels had spread the most exaggerated reports of the strength and character of the Union forces, and the inhabitants of the