This was the crowning burden of all, and I was almost prostrated by the blow. Hurried consultations were held, every conceivable plan was suggested and discussed, which would avail in the slightest degree to avert so terrible a fate from the faithful patriot who now was in such deadly danger.

I suggested that General McClellan should send, by flag-of-truce boat, such a demand as would, if possible, save their lives; but to this the General demurred, fearing, and justly too, that such a course might be productive of more injury than good--that it would be a tacit acknowledgment of their real character as spies, and they would be hung without further delay.

It was at last decided that I should go to Washington, accompanied by Colonel Key, an eminent patriot, and an efficient member of General McClellan's staff. We were to confer with the President and the members of the Cabinet, lay the matter before them, and pet.i.tion for the official interposition of the government in their behalf.

With Colonel Key, I started for Washington, about the middle of April.

The interest of that officer was scarcely second to my own, and he was fully determined to exert every energy of his manly, sympathetic nature in the work of saving their lives, if possible.

The journey to Washington was quickly made. Mr. Lincoln was readily seen, and he, too, filled with sympathy for the unfortunate men, promised to call a special session of the Cabinet to consider the case, that evening.

In the meantime, Colonel Key and I occupied ourselves in visiting the various heads of the departments, in order to prepare them, before evening arrived, for energetic and speedy action. We felt that no time was to be lost; if, indeed, it was not already too late to avert their dreadful doom.

Secretary Stanton, whom, among others, we saw, expressed in strong terms his willingness to a.s.sist Webster to the extent of the resources of the government, but he was but little disposed to a.s.sist the others, who, he alleged, had "betrayed their companion to save their own lives."

In the evening the Cabinet was convened, and, after a full discussion of the matter, it was decided that the only thing that could be done, was to authorize the Secretary of War to communicate with the rebel authorities upon the subject. He was directed to authorize General Wool to send by flag-of-truce boat, or by telegraph, a message to Jefferson Davis, representing that the course pursued by the Federal government toward rebel spies had heretofore been lenient and forbearing; that in many cases such persons had been released after a short confinement, and that in no instance had any one so charged been tried for his life, or sentenced to death. The message concluded with the decided intimation that if the rebel government proceeded to carry their sentence of death into execution, the Federal government would initiate a system of retaliation which would amply revenge the death of the men now held.

Receiving a copy of these instructions, Colonel Key and myself, feeling that we had exhausted the power of the government in this matter, returned at once to Fortress Monroe. We arrived there on the 23d day of April. General Wool was immediately found, and without a moment's delay, he caused the required dispatches to be forwarded, by way of Norfolk, through General Huger, who was then in command of that place, with the urgent request that he would instantly transmit it by telegraph to the Richmond authorities.

This, I learned, was done as had been requested, and I learned further, that it reached the officers of the rebel government, and received their consideration in time to have been of avail, had there been one spark of manly sympathy animating the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of those who were the leaders of a vile conspiracy to destroy the n.o.blest government under the blue canopy of heaven.

Feeling that all had now been done that was possible to save the lives of my men, and believing that the hate and malignity of the rebel officers would not carry them to such a murderous extent as this, I awaited the result of our mission with painful solicitude.

After the day of execution had been fixed, Mrs. Lawton was permitted to visit Webster in the room to which he had been a.s.signed. During all the time that the trial had been in progress, they had never been allowed to communicate with each other, and the n.o.ble little woman had been compelled to suffer in silence, while Webster was undergoing the painful experiences of the investigation, which had resulted in his being condemned to be hung as a spy.

The meeting between Webster and Mrs. Lawton was a most affecting one.

Tears filled the eyes of the faithful woman, as she gazed at the pale and emaciated form of the heroic patriot. Their hands were clasped in a warm pressure, and her words of heartfelt sympathy and grief were choked by the sobs which shook her frame. Even in the excess of his despair, Webster's fort.i.tude never for a moment forsook him. He bore the burdens which had been imposed upon him with a courage and firmness that impressed all who witnessed it.

Under Mrs. Lawton's direction, the room in which he was confined was soon made cheerful and clean; with her own hands she prepared for him such delicacies as he needed most, and her words of comfort were of great effect in soothing his mind, and in preparing him for the dreadful fate which he was called upon to meet.

Nor did Mrs. Lawton stop here. She sought an interview with Jefferson Davis, but, finding him engaged with General Lee, she obtained the privilege of visiting the wife of the Confederate president. With Mrs.

Davis she pleaded long and earnestly in behalf of the condemned man.

Besought her by every holy tie of her own life to intercede for the pardon of the poor invalid, whose life hung by so slender a thread.

All in vain, however. While fully sympathizing with the fate of the unfortunate man, Mrs. Davis declined to interfere in matters of state, and Mrs. Lawton left the house utterly hopeless of being able to avert the dreadful fate which impended over Webster.

The hours flew swiftly by, and the day of execution drew near, and still a ray of hope glistened through the gloom which surrounded him. If McClellan only succeeded in capturing Richmond all would be well. But as the days pa.s.sed, and this result seemed further from accomplishment than ever, even that flickering ember of hope died out, and he prepared to meet his fate like a man.

One thing, however, impressed the doomed man more than anything else--the thought of being hung. Any other mode of punishment would have been accepted with joy, but to be hanged like a murderer, was a disgrace which he could not bear to think about. On the day before his execution, he requested a visit from General Winder, and that officer, evidently expecting a revelation from the lips of his victim, soon made his appearance at the prison.

As he entered the cell where Webster was reclining upon his couch, he roughly accosted him:

"Webster you have sent for me; what is it that you desire?"

"General Winder," replied Webster, "I have sent for you to make an appeal to your manhood; my fate is sealed. I know that too well--I am to die, and I wish to die like a man. I know there is no hope for mercy, but, sir, I beseech you to permit me to be shot, not be hanged like a common felon,--anything but that."

"I am afraid that cannot be done," said Winder, coldly.

"It is not much to ask," pleaded Webster; "I am to die, and am prepared, but, sir, for G.o.d's sake let me not die like this; change but the manner of my death, and no murmur shall escape my lips."

"I cannot alter the sentence that has been ordered."

Mrs. Lawton, who was present, and unable further to restrain herself, exclaimed:

"General, as a woman I appeal to you--you have the power, and can exercise it. Do not, I pray you, condemn this brave man to the odium of a felon's death. Think of his family, and his suffering. Let the manliness of your own heart plead for him. It is not much that he asks.

He does not sue for pardon. He seeks not to escape your judgment, harsh and cruel as it is. He only prays to be allowed to die like a brave man in the service of his country. You certainly can lose nothing by granting this request, therefore, in the name of justice and humanity, let him be shot instead of the dreadful death you have ordained for him."

While she was speaking, the hard lines about the rebel's mouth grew still more harsh and rigid. He did not attempt to interrupt her, but when she had finished, he turned coolly upon his heel, and, as he reached the door he said:

"His request and yours must be denied. He hangs to-morrow."

"Then," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the undaunted woman, "he will die like a man, and his death will be upon your head,--a living curse until your own dark hour shall come!"

Without deigning to notice them further, he pa.s.sed out of the cell, violently closing the door behind him.

The shadows of the night came down over the prison. The last night on earth to a brave man who had met death in a hundred forms ere this. How many times the gaunt, repulsive form of the fatal scaffold, appeared to the vision of the condemned man, as he sat firm and rigid in his dark cell, we may not know. How many times he lived over again the bright scenes of his past life! The happy, careless days of childhood, when the fond eyes of a loving mother beamed upon him in his sportive gambols.

His school days, the lessons conned by the evening lamp in the dear old home of long ago. The merry days of youth, which glided away amid scenes of mirth and jollity. The first dawnings of the pa.s.sion of his life, when a soft hand nestled lovingly in his, and earnest eyes, full of love and trust, seemed to speak a world of affection. Then the stirring scenes of active life, he a man among men battling with the world, performing his daily duties, mingling honorably with his fellows, and upheld by a pride of honor and self-respect. His sacrifices for his country in the dark hour of her peril. The lonely marches, the weary burdens, the unflinching steadfastness of his fealty to his government.

The long nights of storm and danger, the varying episodes of pleasure and of pain, conflicts with enemies, and happy hours with friendly companions--all these thoughts came upon him with a distinctness which brought their actual presence near. Now he was listening to the sweet lullaby of his mother's voice, now he stood in the hall of the "Sons of Liberty," in the midst of affrighted conspirators and blue-coated soldiers--anon he strayed by a purling stream, with a loved one upon his arm--and again he breasted the dashing waters and the deluging storm on the bay, as he rescued the women and children from the stranded boat. So vivid were these pictures of his mind that he lived again a hundred scenes of his past life, partook of a hundred pleasures, shared in a hundred sorrows. Suddenly in the midst of some thrilling vision of by-gone days, the flickering of his lamp or the tread of the sentry outside would recall him from a delightful reverie to the dark and dreadful present. Then gloomy and despondent thoughts would come to him.

He would picture minutely the scenes of the morrow, the rude platform, the dangling noose, the armed soldiers, the hideous black cap, the springing of the gallows trap.

Then, unable to bear the agony of his thoughts, he would start to his feet, press his hands to his ears, as if to drown the fearful sounds, and pace rapidly the narrow cell. Mrs. Lawton never left him; ever alert to his needs, ever ready with sustaining words, although her own brave, tender heart was breaking, she did her utmost to strengthen and sustain him. Gradually he became calmer. The slow moving hours pa.s.sed on, and he resolutely performed the last duties that devolved upon him. Messages were confided to his unwavering nurse for the dear friends at home; expressions of love and regard for his kindred, and unswerving breathings of devotion to his country.

"Tell Major Allen that I met my fate like a man. Thank him for his many acts of kindness to me. I have done my duty, and I can meet death with a brave heart and a clear conscience."

The first faint streaks of the early dawn came in through the grated window; the sun was rising in the heavens, brightly and gloriously lighting up a day that should have been shrouded in gloom. Its beams illumined the little chamber, where Webster lay calm and wakeful, his hands clasped by the woman who had so n.o.bly shared his captivity.

A silence had fallen upon them. Each was busy with thoughts which lips could not utter, and the death-like stillness was undisturbed save by the tramp of the guards in the corridor.

Suddenly there came the sound of hurried footsteps. They paused before the door. The heavy bolts were shot back, and in the doorway stood Cap.

Alexander, the officer in charge.

The little clock that ticked upon the wall noted a quarter past five o'clock.

"Come, Webster, it is time to go."

There was no sympathy in the rough voice which uttered these words.

"To go where?" inquired Webster, starting up in surprise.

"To the fair grounds," was the laconic reply.

"Surely not at this hour," pleaded the condemned man; "the earliest moment named in my death-warrant is six o'clock, and you certainly will not require me to go before that."

"It is the order of General Winder, and I must obey," answered Alexander. "You must prepare yourself at once."

Without another word Webster arose from his bed, and began his preparations. Not a tremor was apparent, and his hand was as steady and firm as iron. When he had fully arranged his toilet, he turned to Mrs.

Lawton, and taking both her hands in his he murmured: