“Captain Johnston—Captain Johnston! They’ve killed Lieutenant Douthatt—”
“Lay him in the scrub and fight on. How many rounds, Peters?—Two?—All right! You can do a good deal with two rounds—”
“It’s the rest of the homesick battery,” said the ——th Virginia, “Botetourt Artillery! Botetourt Artillery!”
There rushed a blue, an overpowering, a tidal wave—out of the smoke and din, bearing with it its own smoke and din, overmasteringly strong, McClernand’s general advance. At the same moment, on the left, struck McPherson. When the roar that followed the impact died, the blue had won the field of Port Gibson; the grey had lost.
At sunset, Bowen’s retreating regiments re-crossed Bayou Pierre. The exhaustion of the troops was extreme. There was no food; the men sank down and slept, in the whispering Southern night, in the remote light of other worlds. At dawn began the slow falling-back upon Vicksburg.
Lieutenant-General Pemberton telegraphed the situation to General Johnston in Tennessee, adding, “I should have large reinforcements.”
In Tennessee, Rosecrans lay menacingly before Bragg. Johnston telegraphed to Pemberton, “Reinforcements cannot be sent from here without giving up Tennessee. Unite all your forces to meet Grant. Success will give you back what you abandoned to win it.”
Pemberton, personally a brave and good man, looked out south and east from Vicksburg over the sparsely settled, tangled country. He looked west, indeed; but it was too late now to gather to him the Army of the Trans-Mississippi. His mind agreed that perhaps it should have been done in December.... The troops in Vicksburg and north of Vicksburg, the troops at Jackson, the troops falling back from Grand Gulf—leaving out the garrison at Port Hudson, one might count, perhaps, thirty thousand effectives. Unite all these, but not at Vicksburg ... move out from Vicksburg, manœuvre here and manœuvre there, and at last take Grant somewhere at disadvantage.... General Johnston’s plan as against the President’s.... Leave Vicksburg defenceless, to be taken by some detached force, by Sherman, by the Federal men-of-war that could now march up and down the Mississippi.... Pemberton looked out at the batteries that had been built, all the field-works, all the trenches. Most useless of all considerations moved him, the consideration of the pity, of the waste of all these. He looked at the very gallant town; he thought of the spirit of an old gentleman and prominent citizen to whom he had talked yesterday. “Before God,” said Pemberton, “I am not going to give up Vicksburg!”
The third day after Port Gibson the ——th Virginia came again to its old camp above the river, just without the town. Here, the next morning, Edward Cary received an order to report to his colonel. He found the latter at Headquarters and saluted—the colonel being an old schoolmate and hopelessly in love with his sister Unity. “Cary,” said the colonel, “we’re poorer than the Ragged Mountains, but apparently we are considered highly presentable, a real crack command, dandies and so forth! The War Department wants a word-of-mouth description of Mississippi conditions. In short, there’s an embassy going to Richmond. The general came down and asked if my uniform was whole and if I could muster two or three men in decent apparel. Said I thought I could, and that there was a patch, but I didn’t think it would show. I am going to take you as my orderly. The train for Jackson leaves at midday.”
“Yes, sir. It is ten now. May I have the two hours?”