The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

rest of the day and the following night without any more luck. When the next fish swam into the net it approached from the other side and not past the scout post. The steamer Anna progressed from Johnsonville, ran the gantlet of the batteries, and in spite of hard shelling, was not hit in any vital spot, escaping beyond. But when the transport Venus , towing two barges and convoyed by the gunboat Undine , tried to duplicate that feat they were caught by the accurate fire of the masked guns. Trying to turn and steam back the way they had come, they were pinned down. And while they were held there, another steamer entered the upper end of the trap and was disabled. Guns moved by sweat, force, will and hand-power, were wrestled around the banks to attend to the Undine . And after a brisk duel her officers and crew abandoned her.
    “We got us a navy,” Kirby announced when he brought their order to leave the picket post. “The Yankees sure are kind, presentin’ us with a couple of ships jus’ outta the goodness of their hearts.”
    The Undine and the Venus , manned by volunteers, did steam with the caution of novice sailors upriver when on the first of November troops and artillery started to Johnsonville.
    “Hi!” One of the new Horse Marines waved to the small party of scouts, weaving in and out to gain their position at the head of the column. “Want to leave them feed sacks for us to carry?”
    Kirby put a protecting hand over his saddle burden of extra and choice rations.
    “This heah grub ain’t gonna be risked out on no water,” he called back. “Nor blown up by no gunboat neither.”
    Those fears were realized, if not until two days later, when the scouts were too far ahead to witness the defeat of Forrest’s river flotilla. The Undine , outfought by two Yankee gunboats, was beached and set afire. The same fate struck the Venus a day afterward. But by that time the raiders had reached the bank of the river opposite Johnsonville and were making ready to destroy the supply depot there.
    Drew, Kirby, and Wilkins, with Boyd to ride courier, had already explored the bank and tried to estimate the extent of the wealth lying in the open, across the river.
    “Too bad we jus’ can’t sorta cut a few head outta that theah herd,” Kirby said wistfully. “Heah we are so poor our shadows got holes in ’em, an’ lookit all that jus’ lyin’ theah waitin’ for somebody to lay a hot iron on its hide—”
    “More likely to lay a hot iron on your hide!” countered Drew. But he could not deny that the river landing with its thickly clustered transports, gunboats and barges, the acres of shoreline covered with every kind of army store, was a big temptation to try something reckless.
    They had illustrious company during their prowling that afternoon. Forrest himself and Captain Morton, that very young and very talented artillery commander, were making a reconnaissance before placing the batteries in readiness. And during the night those guns were moved into position. At midafternoon the next day the reduction of Johnsonville began.
    Smoke, then flame, tore holes in those piles of goods. Warehouses blazed. By nightfall for a mile upriver and down they faced a solid sheet of fire, and they smelled the tantalizing odor of burning bacon, coffee, sugar, and saw blue rivers of blazing liquid running free.
    “I still say it’s a mighty shame, all that goin’ to waste,” commented Kirby sadly.
    “Well, anyway it ain’t goin’ into the bellies of Sherman’s men,” Drew replied.
    The Confederate force was already starting withdrawal, battery by battery, as the wasteland of the fire lighted them on their way. And now the Yankee gunboats were burning with explosions of shells, fired by their own crews lest they fall into Rebel hands. It was a wild scene, giving the command plenty of light by which to fall back into the country they still dominated. The reduction of the depot was a complete success.
    Scouts stayed with the rear guard this time, so it was that Drew saw again those two who had so carefully picked the gun stands only twenty-four hours before. General Forrest and his battery commander came down once more to survey the desolation those guns had left as a smoking, stinking scar.
    Drew heard the slow, reflective words the General spoke:
    “John, if you were given enough guns, and I had me enough men, we could whip old Sherm clean off the face of the earth!”
    And then the scout caught Kirby’s