Gordon was everywhere encouraging his men, and attempting to hold them steady. With flaming eyes, his drawn sword waving amid the smoke, his strident voice rising above the din of battle, Gordon was superb.
But all was of no avail. The Federal line came on like a wave of steel and fire. A long deafening crash, mingled with the thunder of cannon, stunned the ear; above the combatants rose a huge smoke-cloud, from which issued cheers and groans.
Suddenly an officer of General Lee’s staff passed by like lightning; was lost in the smoke; then I saw him speaking to Gordon. At the few words uttered by the officer, the latter turned pale.
A moment afterward a white flag fluttered—the order to surrender had come.
What I felt at that instant I can not describe. Something seemed to choke me. I groaned aloud, and turned toward the cavalry.
At fifty paces from me I saw Mordaunt, surrounded by his officers and men.
His swarthy face glowed—his eyes blazed. Near him, General Fitzhugh Lee—with Tom Herbert, and some other members of his staff—was sitting his horse, pale and silent.
“What will you do, general?” said Mordaunt, saluting with drawn sabre.
Fitzhugh Lee uttered a groan.
“I don’t wish to be included in the surrender,” he said. “Come, let’s go. General Lee no longer requires my poor services!”{1}