AMONG the gallant Union officers who distinguished themselves for wisdom and bravery was Captain Walke, commander of the Carondelet. I knew him personally as a benevolent Christian gentleman. No one who knew him doubted his profession of faith in the Divine Redeemer.
While his gunboat was lying at Cairo, just before the battle of Fort Donelson, he came into the church one Sabbath morning and quietly took a seat. The minister who was expected disappointed the audience.
As soon as that was made known, Captain Walke arose and went into the pulpit, opened the Bible, and saying, “Let us worship God,” read the One Hundred and Third Psalm. Closing the book, he talked most impressively of our duty to God and to man, and of the boundless, measureless love of Christ, and, offering an earnest prayer, dismissed the congregation with the long-metre doxology.
The people, who had been held with almost breathless interest by the eloquent, forceful words of the stranger, began to ask, “Who is he?” And great was their surprise when they learned that the man who filled the pulpit that day was Captain Walke, commander of the Carondelet, an iron-clad that with bristling cannon was lying at anchor near the town.
It was at Cairo that I first met Captain Walke. As he was often at the chief ports where the army was protected by gunboats, I had the privilege of meeting him occasionally.
Two days before the running of the blockade at Vicksburg, a little company of us went over from the Sanitary boat to bid Captain Walke godspeed and farewell.
He had just completed the task of pouring two barrels of coal-oil over his gunboat, and whitewashing the lower deck, where the guns were to be loaded by the light of the whitewash.
The oil was to prevent solid shot from adhering; striking a smooth oiled surface they would be more likely to fly off on a tangent, he explained by way of apology, as the gangway was reached, and the dresses of the ladies were besmeared with coal-oil. The sides of the Carondelet were more than three feet thick, and consisted of alternate layers of wood and iron.
In answer to the question,—
“Is not the eve of a battle a season of great anxiety?” he said,—