He had escaped, however. Not a muscle of his calm face had moved. Only,
as he turned his face over his shoulder in the direction of the
battery, I could see a sudden color rush to his cheeks, and his eye
flashed.
"I should now like to go into a charge!" he said to Stuart, once, after
a disaster. And I thought I read the same thought in his face at this
moment.
But it was impossible. He had no troops. The entire line on the right
of Petersburg had been broken to pieces, and General Lee retired slowly
to his inner works, near the city where a little skirmish line, full of
fight yet, and shaking their fists at the huge enemy approaching,
received him with cheers and cries which made the pulse throb.
There was no _hack_ in that remnant--pardon the word, reader; it
expresses the idea.
"Let 'em come on! We'll give 'em ----!" shouted the ragged handful. I
dare not change that rough sentence. It belongs to history. And it was
glorious, if rude. In front of that squad was a whole army-corps. The
corps was advancing, supported by a tremendous artillery fire, to crush
them--and the tatterdemalions defied and laughed at them.
This all took place before noon. Longstreet had come in from the north
of the James with his skeleton regiments; and these opposed a bold
front to the enemy on the right, while Gordon commanding the left,
below the city, was thundering.
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