The Drummer Boy Part 41

They've both been sick and at the pint of death ever sence the fight. Now one of 'em's dead, and t'other's alive. A chap that was at the hospital told me this morning, 'One of them sickest fellers in your regiment died last night," says he; 'I don't know which of 'em,' says he. And I haven't had a chance yet to find out."

"O, haste then!" cried the young wife. "May be my husband is living still!"

"Shouldn't wonder the least might if he is," said Seth, willing to encourage her. "For he has hung on to life wonderfully; he said he believed you was coming, and he couldn't bear the idee of dying before he could see you once more. Old Buckley's bullet has been found, you'll be pleased to know."

"Old Buckley? Who is old Buckley?"

"The Maryland secessionist that shot your husband, and that I brought down from the tree to pay for it. He never'll git into another tree, without his soul goes into a gobble-turkey, as I should think it might, and flies up in one to roost!"

"And the bullet!----"

"As I was going to tell ye, it's been found. It went through the Bible that you gave him (and that Frank's preserving for you now, I believe), and lodged in his body, the doctor couldn't tell where. But one night Mr.

Egglestone,--the fighting minister, you know, that merried you,--he was bathing Abe's back, and what did he find but a bunch, that Abe said was sore. 'Doctor!' says he, 'I've found the bullet!' And, sure enough! the doctor come and cut out the lead. It had gone clean through the poor feller,--into his breast, and out under his side!--h.e.l.lo!" said Seth, "I shall hev to turn out and wait for that company to march by. I swan to man ef 'tain't my company,--or a part on't, at least! They're drumming out a coward, to the tune of the _Rogue's March_!"

The women were all impatience to get on; and Mrs. Manly felt but the faintest gleam of interest in the procession, until, as it drew near, in a wretched figure, wearing, in place of the regimental uniform, a suit of rags that might have been taken from some contraband, with drummers before and fixed bayonets behind, she recognized--Jack Winch!

"Wal!" said Seth, "I'd ruther go into a fight and be shot dead than go out of camp in that style! See that label, 'COWARD,' on his back? But he deserves it, ef ever a chap did!"

And Seth, as he drove on, related the story of Jack's miserable boasting and poltroonery. Much as she pitied the wretch, Mrs. Manly could not help remembering his treachery towards her son, and feeling that Frank was now amply avenged.

x.x.xIV.

THE HOSPITAL.

Let us pa.s.s on before, and take a peep into the hospital. There we find Ned Ellis, playing dominoes with one hand, and joking to keep up the spirits of his companions. There lies Frank on his cot, with blanched countenance, eyes closed, and pale lips smiling, as if in dreams. Of his two friends, At.w.a.ter and the old drummer, only one, as Seth Tucket said, remains. One was carried out last night--in a coffin his cold form is laid--life's fitful fever is over with him.

And the other? Very still, very pale, stretched on his narrow bed, no motion of breathing perceptible, behold him! What is it we see in that sculptured, placid face? Is it life, or is it death? It's neither life nor death, but sleep, that dim gulf between.

Mr. Egglestone, who has been much about the hospital from the first, enters with a radiant look, and steps lightly to Frank's side.

The drummer boy's eyes unclose, and smile their welcome.

"Better, still better, I am glad to see!" says the minister, cheerily.

"Almost well," answered Frank, although so weak that he can hardly speak.

"I shall be out again in a day or two. The fever has quite left me; and I was having such a beautiful dream. I thought I was a water-lily, floating on a lake; and the lake, they told me, was _sleep_; and I felt all whiteness and peace! Wasn't it pretty?"

"Pretty, and true too!" said the minister, with a suffusing tear, as he looked at the pale, gentle boy, and thought how much like a white fragrant lily he was. "I have news for you, Frank. The steamer has arrived."

"O! and letters?"

"Probably, though I have none yet. But something besides letters!"--Mr.

Egglestone whispered confidentially, "At.w.a.ter's wife is here!"

"Is she? Brave girl!--O, dear!" said Frank, his features changing suddenly, "why didn't my mother come too! She might, I think! It seems as if I couldn't wait, as if I couldn't live, till I see her!"

"Well, Frank," then said the minister, having thus prepared him, "your mother did think--your mother is here!"

At the moment, Mrs. Manly, who could be no longer restrained, flew to the bedside of her son. He started up with a wild cry; she caught him in her arms; they clung and kissed and cried together.

"Mother! mother!" "My child! my darling child!" were the only words that could be heard in that smothering embrace.

Mr. Egglestone turned, and took the hand of her companion, who had entered with her, and led her to the cot where lay the still figure and placid, sculptured face. O woman, be strong! O wife, be calm! keep back the tears, stifle the anguish, of that heaving breast.

She is strong, she is calm, tears and anguish are repressed. She bends over the scarcely breathing form, gazes into the utterly pallid face, and with clasped hands in silence blesses him, prays for him--her husband.

For this is he--Abe At.w.a.ter, the shadow of death he foresaw still darkening the portal of his body, as if hesitating to enter, nor yet willing to pa.s.s by. And the face in the coffin outside there is the face of the old drummer, whose soul, let us hope, is at peace. One was taken--will the other be left?

The eyes of Abe opened; they beheld the vision of his wife, and gladness, like a river of soft waters, glides into his soul. O, may it be a river of life to him! As love has held his spirit back from death, so may its power restore him; for such things have been; and there is no medicine for the sick body or sinking soul like the breath and magnetic touch of love.

Frank meanwhile was lying on his bed, holding his mother's hands, and drinking in the joy of her presence. And she was feeding his rapture with the tenderest motherly words and looks, and telling him of home.

"But how selfish I am!" said Frank, "How little you could afford to leave, and come here! I thought I was going to be a help to you, and, the best I can do, I am only a trouble and a hindrance!"

"I could not stop an instant to think of trouble or expense when my darling was in danger!" exclaimed the grateful mother. "I feel that G.o.d will take care of us; if we are his children, he will provide for all our wants. Will he not, Mr. Egglestone?"

"When I have read to you this paper," replied the minister, "then you can be the judge. I was requested to read it to Frank as soon as he was able to hear it--after his friend's death."

"Is it something for me? Poor old Mr. Sinjin!" exclaimed Frank. "He died last night, mother. But he was so happy, and so willing to go, I can't mourn for him. What is the paper?"

"A few nights ago he requested me to come to his side and write as he should dictate." And the clergyman, seating himself, read:--

"'The Last Will and Testament of Servetus St. John, commonly called Old Sinjin.

"I, Servetus St. John, Drummer, being of sound mind, but of body fast failing unto death, having received its mortal hurt in battle for my country, do give and bequeath of my possessions as follows:--

"'_Item._ My Soul I return to the Maker who gave it, and my Flesh to the dust whence it came.

"'_Item._ To my Country and the Cause of Freedom, as I have given my last poor services, so I likewise give cheerfully my Life.

"'_Item._ To Mehitabel Craig, my only surviving sister after the flesh, I give what alone she can claim of me, and what, as a dying sinner, I have no right to withhold, my full pardon for all offences.

"'_Item._ To my present friend and comforter, Mr. Egglestone, as a memento of my deep obligations to him, I give my watch.

"'_Item._ To my fellow-sufferer, Abram At.w.a.ter, or to his widow, in case of his decease, I bequeath the sum of one hundred dollars.

"'_Item._ To my fellow-sufferer and dearly beloved pupil, Frank Manly, I give, in token of affection, a miniature which will be found after my death.

"'_Item._ To the same Frank Manly I also give and bequeath the residue of all my worldly possessions, to wit:--'"

Then followed an enumeration of certain stocks and deposits, amounting to the sum of three thousand dollars.

The will was duly witnessed, and Mr. Egglestone was the appointed executor.

Frank was silent; he was crying, with his hands over his face.