"Captain Haskell," they said.
My tongue failed me, as my pen does now. What! Captain Haskell? Our
Captain dead? Who had ever thought that he might be killed? I now knew
that I had considered him like Washington--invulnerable. He had passed
through so many dangers unhurt, had been exposed to so many deaths that
had refused to demand him, had so freely offered his life, had been so
calm and yet so valiant in battle, had been so worshipped by all the
left wing of the regiment and by the battalion, had been so wise in
council and so forceful in the field, had, in fine, been one of those we
instinctively feel are heroes immortal! And now he was dead? It could
not be! There must be some mistake!
But I looked, and I saw Lieutenant Barnwell in tears, and I saw Sergeant
Mackay in tears, and I saw Rhodes in tears--and I broke down utterly.