Anxiously did the hard-pressed line wait the coming of the expected reenforcements; but neither Nelson nor Wallace appeared in season to render any efficient service. Step by step, inch by inch, the national line was forced back, until darkness suspended the conflict. Johnston had fallen; Beauregard was in command; and again and again did he hurl his forces against the Union line: still it remained firm to the last, and still it held the battle-field in spite of the ground it had lost.
My friend Pollard almost curses Beauregard for not striking the final blow in this sharp battle; but doubtless that distinguished rebel knew what he was about better than any civilian could teach him. He was fond enough of display and sensation to finish up the battle if it had been possible. He had found, after fighting the national forces from early dawn, what it was made of, and, with the remotest hope of driving the army of Grant into the river, he would not have given the order to withdraw beyond the enemy's fire.
Though a portion of the army of the Tennessee misbehaved before the enemy, it was not routed, nor, as an army, demoralized. Technically, according to Sherman, it had gained the victory: it had certainly repulsed the attack. It had not been driven into the river, and there was no thought of surrender. No transports were sent for; no attempt to bridge the river was made, in order to retreat and escape. The fiery zeal, the mad enthusiasm, of the Confederates had carried them through one of the severest fights of the war. The advantage, but not the victory, was with them. It was a drawn battle.
As the conflict was suspended, Grant gave orders for his army to attack on the following morning. Before Buell's main army was heard from, even before Nelson's division had crossed the river, he had decided to renew the fight at an early hour the next day, making the attack himself! It was wicked for my friend Pollard to reproach his friend Beauregard for not annihilating such a man; for not giving the finishing blow to an army which was at that moment making its calculations to attack with the next daylight.
After dark, in the midst of a pelting storm, almost worn out by the heavy burdens of that day, and still suffering from the injuries he had received by the fall of his horse, Grant went to the headquarters of each general of division, assigned to him his position, and gave him particular orders for the resumption of the battle at daylight. At midnight he had completed his rounds, and returned to the Landing, where he lay down upon the soaked ground, with his head on a stump for a pillow, and slept soundly till morning. He was completely drenched with the rain, but he was confident of the victory on the morrow, and no discomfort was too great for him to endure in the holy cause in which he had embarked.
While he slept, the two gunboats in the river kept up their fire over his head, throwing shells into the rebel lines. It is a popular idea that these gunboats saved the Union army from total destruction; that without them the heroes of that hard-fought battle would have been obliged to surrender, or be driven into the river. The men saved and protected themselves by their strong right hands, though doubtless the gunboats rendered considerable assistance. Even Pollard, who generally has a proper respect for these terrible engines of war, says their fire was terrific in sound, but did no damage.
A mile from the camp the wounded of the army lay in the agony of their suffering. Nothing could be done for them, for they were within the enemy's line. The exhausted troops slept on their arms, pelted by the fierce tempest of the elements at night, as they had been by the bullets of a savage foe through all the long day. They were safe, or they could not have slept. Most of them had performed miracles of valor, in strong contrast with the cowards who had fled.
Sherman had been wounded several times, and had three horses shot under him. He had fought his own division and that of an inexperienced general near him. His personal influence, backed up by his personal heroism, had kept the line firm and united under the fierce onslaughts of the enemy. Grant commended him on the battle-field for his noble exertions, and there can be no doubt that, in the morning, Sherman had saved the day.
At half past four in the afternoon, after the conflict had been raging almost incessantly for twelve hours, it reached the culminating point of its fierceness. Grant sat on his horse, calm, unmoved, and grand in his thoughtful silence. The cannon roared fearfully on the left, and seemed to be approaching nearer, as though the rebels were successful in their attempt to flank the entire position, so as to cut off the retreat of the nationals.
"Doesn't the prospect begin to look gloomy?" said an officer at his side, just as another was killed within a few feet of him.