He at last offered his resignation, which was accepted, to date from January 24, 1862. It was the heaviest disappointment he had ever met, and at first it seemed more than he could bear with equanimity; but when it became certain that he was fatally diseased, he grew more cheerful and more like himself, as if feeling that it would have been useless for him to remain in the service. He never had seemed more thoughtful for others, more patient himself, than during these last days. He finally sailed, on February 25th, for St. Jago de Cuba. All who saw him felt that they were never to see him again, although they anticipated no such sudden calamity as that which occurred. The vessel sailed with a fine breeze, but was never heard of again. The next day there were very high winds, and it was supposed that she had been struck by some gale, and had sunk at once, for no trace of her was ever found. A vessel which sailed a few days later was nearly wrecked near the Gulf Stream, and it was thought that this disaster might have proceeded from one end of the gale which had sunk the other vessel. It is the impression of some of his most intimate friends, that, if he could have chosen, he would not have regretted his sudden departure in such a way; for he could feel that he was dying with the well and strong, and not in his character of invalid, which, as he himself said, he ‘particularly detested.’
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