He was not over
nineteen years of age, and his language and manner indicated the
gentleman.
Major Stevens took his musket and set it against the breastwork and
assisted him to the ground. He at once began to take off his cartouch
box, and the major noticed a red spot on his clean, white under jacket.
"Are you wounded?" Fernando asked.
"Yes, sir, and I fear badly."
"Let me help you, my man!" said the major, unbuckling his belt.
"Please don't take my canteen, for it contains my water."
"I shall not take anything that does not encumber you."
Just then one of the Tennesseeans who had gone down to the river for
water came along with some in a coffee-pot. The wounded man saw him,
and said:
"I am very thirsty, sir, will you please give me a drop?"
"Oh, yes," said the Tennesseean. "I will treat you to anything I have
got." The young man took the coffee-pot and swallowed two or three
mouthfuls out of the spout, and handed it back. In an instant, Fernando
saw him sinking backward. He called to Sukey, who was near, and they
eased him down against the side of a tent, where he gave two or three
gasps and was dead. He had been shot through the breast.
A number of British soldiers and officers had sought shelter from the
fire of the Americans in the ditch on the other side of the breastwork.
These, of course, being unable to retreat came in and surrendered.
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