“‘I am to die then; and—how long?’ As he had before expressed hope in Christ, the chaplain replied: ‘You have made your peace with God; let death come as soon as it will, He will carry you safely over the river.’ ‘Yes; but this is so awfully sudden, awfully sudden!’ His lips quivered; he looked up grievingly: ‘And I shall not see my mother.’ ‘Christ is better than a mother,’ murmured the chaplain. ‘Yes.’ The word came in a whisper. His eyes were closed; the lips still wore that trembling grief, as if the chastisement were too sore, too hard to be borne; but as the minutes passed, and the soul lifted itself up stronger and more steadily upon the wings of prayer, the countenance grew calmer, the lips steadier, and when the eyes opened again there was a light in their depths that could have come only from heaven.
“‘I thank you for your courage,’ he said more feebly, taking the chaplain’s hand; ‘the bitterness is over now, and I feel willing to die. Tell my mother’—he paused, gave one sob, dry, and full of the last anguish of earth—‘tell her how I longed to see her; but if God will permit me I will be near her. Tell her to comfort all who loved me; to say that I thought of them all. Tell my father that I am glad that he gave his consent. Tell my minister, by word or letter, that I thought of him, and that I thank him for all his counsels. Tell him I find that Christ will not desert the passing soul, and that I wish him to give my testimony to the living, that nothing is of real worth but the religion of Jesus; and now, will you pray with me?’ With swelling emotion and tender tones the chaplain besought God’s grace and presence; then, restraining his sobs, he bowed down and pressed upon the beautiful brow, already chilled with the breath of the coming angel, twice, thrice, a fervent kiss. They might have been as tokens from the father and mother, as well as for himself.
“So thought, perhaps, the dying soldier, for a heavenly smile touched his face with new beauty, as he said, ‘Thank you; I won’t trouble you any longer. You are wearied out; go to your rest.’ ‘The Lord God be with you!’ was the firm response. ‘Amen,’ trembled from the fast whitening lips. Another hour passed, still the chaplain did not go to rest, but retired to an adjoining room; he was about to return to the bedside of the dying when the surgeon met him and whispered softly, ‘He is gone.’ Christ’s soldier had found the captain of his salvation, and received his reward.”
Tell my mother, when you see her,
That I fell amid the strife;
And for freedom and my country
I have given up my life;
Tell her that I sent this message
Ere my tongue refused to speak,
And you tell her, comrade, won’t you?
Tell my mother not to weep.
Tell her, comrade, how we battled
For our country and the right;
How I held the starry banner
In the thickest of the fight;
Tell her how they struggled for it,
And, with curses loud and deep,
Took my bosom for their target—
But tell her not to weep.
Tell her I held up the banner
’Mid the screaming shot and shell,
Till the fatal leaden missile
Pierced my side, and then I fell.
Tell her I was ready, waiting,
When my pulses ceased to beat,
And I longed once more to see her—
But you tell her not to weep.
Tell her that the truths she taught me
Nerved my arm and led my feet,
And I trusted in the promise
’Mid the battle’s fiercest heat.
Tell her, while my life was ebbing,
That I kissed her face so sweet—
Kissed the picture that she gave me—
And you tell her not to weep.
Tell her, comrade, when you see her,
That my battlefields are o’er,
And I’ve gone to join an army
Where rebellion comes no more;
Tell her that I hope to greet her,
When together we shall meet,
In that better home in heaven,
Where we never more shall weep.
CHAPTER X.
MCCLELLAN’S DESPATCH FROM EWELL’S FARM—CALL FOR REINFORCEMENTS—NEWS FROM NORFOLK—DESCRIPTION OF THE MERRIMAC—THE ENGAGEMENT IN HAMPTON ROADS—FIRST AND LAST FIGHT OF THE MERRIMAC—VICTORY OF THE MONITOR—ADVANCE ON THE PENINSULA—THE BATTLE SONG—A MUDDY MARCH—ON THE CHICKAHOMINY—CRITICAL POSITION OF GENERAL BANKS—THE PRESIDENT’S DESPATCHES—MCCLELLAN’S REPLY.
On the tenth of May headquarters were established beyond Williamsburg, and communications were opened between the forces moving by land and water. The following despatch was then sent by General McClellan to Secretary Stanton:
“Camp at Ewell’s Farm,
“Three miles beyond Williamsburg,
“May 10th—5 a. m.
“From the information reaching me from every source, I regard it as certain that the enemy will meet us with all his force on or near the Chickahominy. They can concentrate many more men than I have, and are collecting troops from all quarters, especially well disciplined troops from the South. Casualties, sickness, garrisons and guards have much reduced our numbers, and will continue to do so. I shall fight the rebel army with whatever force I may have, but duty requires me to urge that every effort be made to reinforce me, without delay, with all the disposable troops in Eastern Virginia, and that we concentrate all our forces, as far as possible, to fight the great battle now impending, and to make it decisive. It is possible that the enemy may abandon Richmond without a serious struggle, but I do not believe he will; and it would be unwise to count upon anything but a stubborn and desperate defense—a life and death contest. I see no other hope for him than to fight this battle, and we must win it. I shall fight them whatever their force may be; but I ask for every man that the department can send me. No troops should now be left unemployed. Those who entertain the opinion that the rebels will abandon Richmond without a struggle are, in my judgment, badly advised, and do not comprehend their situation, which is one requiring desperate measures. I beg that the President and Secretary will maturely weigh what I say, and leave nothing undone to comply with my request. If I am not reinforced it is probable that I will be obliged to fight nearly double my numbers strongly entrenched.”