HAM SEAY
HAM SEAY had a hæmorrhage that morning—a hæmorrhage from the lungs.
But Ham Seay had the fastest horse in the company, and he knew how to ride a horse for all that was in him of achievement.
When the news came that Stuart wanted to communicate as quickly as possible with the commandant at Fredericksburg, Ham Seay volunteered to carry the message.
“But you’re ill,” said Stuart.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Ham. “I can ride my horse, and my horse is a good one.”
“But you’re ill,” said Stuart again. “And I don’t want to send an ill man on such a journey as this.”
Then Ham Seay rose in the majesty of his manhood.
“General,” he said, “I am a doomed man. I cannot live long to render service in the war. I want to render what service I can. I want to carry this message. It will do me no harm. It will not shorten the few days I have yet to live. It will make my life worth something.”
So Stuart gave him the message to a general fifty miles away.
Ham Seay mounted, and said to his comrades: “Good-by, boys. I may never see you again; but I’ll do this errand all right, or die trying.”
He rode his horse with urgency, but with discretion. He had but one object in view, and that was to get the message to its destination in the briefest possible number of hours.
He delivered his communication. He died half an hour afterwards. His horse had died before Ham did. But both had done their duty.