The Hunt for Confederate Gold

A hush fell over the congregation as the President entered, tall, thin, and austere in his black frock coat. He marched down the aisle to his box ramrod-straight, bespeaking his West Point training and once-illustrious military career, and concealing the ill health that plagued him worse than the burdens of command. He never liked making a late entrance in this fashion, calling attention to himself when all thoughts should be on the Almighty. But the news from the lines at Petersburg worsened hourly, and the war gave no respite from the demands of leadership, of reading and replying to dispatches, even on the Lord’s Day. He counted it a blessing to be able to come and worship at all. And to be sure, the worse the war news became, the more need he had for worship—as did they all. He was the intercessor for his country. Neither Bobby Lee nor the British Crown nor any human agency could save them now without God’s help.

He settled wearily into the pew with Colonel Lubbock, his military aide. Lest the Lord build the city, they labor in vain who build it. Surely God would not abandon the Southern people, for their fight was His fight. God was testing their faith. And he thought, I above all must have faith, for it is written, the just shall live by faith.

The final notes of “Abide With Me” subsided and the Reverend Doctor Minnigerode began to read the hope-giving words of Psalm 46: “He maketh wars to cease throughout the earth. He snappeth the bow and breaketh the spear in sunder.”

Suddenly the doors to the sanctuary were flung open with a clatter. All eyes turned to the rear as a tall, mud-spattered officer entered, conferred briefly with the sexton, and came striding down the aisle to where the President sat. His saber clattered in the silence as he stepped into the gated pew, leaned over the President’s shoulder and whispered urgently. “Your Excellency, the Yankees have ruptured our lines south of Petersburg. At a critical junction called Five Forks.”

Jefferson Davis felt the blood drain from his face. He drew a deep breath and stood abruptly, swaying, his talon-like fingers gripping the pew back before him.

“My God,” he said hoarsely. “If Lee’s Army falls in this hour, how can the country prevail? Come with me, sir.”

With his aide and the handsome, gray-clad courier close behind him, he marched up the aisle away from curious eyes and ears to the narthex of the church. Strained, white faces followed him. Petersburg had been besieged for months, and the Yankee grip on Virginia tightened daily into a stranglehold. Most of Richmond’s residents expected news of a Union breakthrough, which would mean the fall of the Capital. Now it had come.

The three men stood unceremoniously behind closed doors in the narthex. Davis fumed, as if by persuading the bearer of bad news he could change the course of events.

“Captain, is there no way the Army can stem this flood?”

“No, Your Excellency. The Yankees have broken through decisively at

Five Forks. For weeks we have been stretched thin to the breaking, and there are no more reserves. We must withdraw to the west, else the entire Army will be cut off and destroyed in detail between the anvil of Weitzel and the hammer of Grant.”

“And in so doing you uncover Richmond and the Government.”

“Yes, sir, I fear so. General Lee ordered me to come and tell you without delay. There is still time to evacuate the Government and its means. The railroad to Danville remains open, for the moment. General Fitzhugh Lee will cover it with his cavalry and screen our withdrawal to the west as long as possible. But no one can say how long it will remain open should the Yankees press home their advantage. You must give the order to remove from the capital at once.”