[Illustration: 9178]
OME {169}at last! And when that longing mother took her boy
in her arms once more, and looked long and earnestly into his weary
face, she saw only the boyish Ralph, whom sickness could not change;
he was to her the same lad who had left his home with strong hopes and
sunny smile. True, he was older and more careworn looking, but the
honest look of his childhood shone from his eyes, and the same truthful,
frank expression was on his features.
Ralph, as he rode up from the depot, with his friends, the Boneels,
looked around at the old familiar place with eagerness. He expected
to find everything changed--he had been absent so long, that to him it
seemed as though the landscape, even, must have taken on new features,
or at least changed its old. But there was the same gentle slope in
front of the door, the same trees in the fields beyond, the same sunny
knoll where he had played when a little boy. Oh, how long ago that
seemed to him, now, when he reviewed the experiences of the past four
years! Al and his father would not enter the house, though cordially
invited to do so; they did not wish to intrude upon the sacredness of
the first meeting with his mother.
She could scarcely speak for joy. At last she broke forth with words of
greeting:
“Oh, my boy, my boy, you are home once more; you have come home to me,
and you shall never go away again.”
“I am glad to be with you, dear mother; as glad as a little child, who
needs a good petting. But it was a bitter disappointment when I found
that I could not stay with the brave boys who are offering up their
lives for their country.”
“Never {170}mind, dear boy. You could not help getting sick. I will
bring you back both health and strength, and then--”
“And then they will take me back in the army, again. Oh, mother, do you
think it possible?”
[Illustration: 0179]
Her face grew sad. She had not thought of that, and her heart
experienced a bitter pang, for she felt that not even her love and
care were to him so sweet and dear as was his country and her cause. It
wounded her deeply when she saw that even in the flush of his delight
at being home again, he could not help clouding her joy by expressing a
wish that in her bosom found no response.
She sighed deeply, and made him no answer, but he was so absorbed in
greeting his sisters and friends who had met to welcome him, that he did
not notice her silence.
Ralph {171}could not endure patiently having to play the part of an
invalid, but the home doctor's peremptory orders were that he should
keep his bed, and visitors were to be admitted only when he felt as if
he were able to talk with them.
There were many long days when his voice was so faint and his strength
so nearly exhausted that he was forbidden the excitement caused by their
presence. But as the winter passed, under the tender ministrations of
his mother and sisters, hope again sprung up in his breast, that health
might return to him, and with health would come a return to the service.
The medical man was using every effort to restore him to health. He was
wise, keen-sighted and skillful, and he fathomed the secret of Ralph's
low vitality. His diligence and care were at length rewarded, and he
had the satisfaction of seeing the elastic, springing step return, the
bright color come back to his cheek, and the luster to his eyes, as he
grew stronger daily, and to those who had come to greet his home-coming,
and had mentally felt they were taking a last farewell, his recovery
seemed almost a miracle.
Soon he could walk long distances, and even spring on the back of a
horse for a ride. Al Boneel had returned to his regiment, but the young
man's father had sent Ralph a horse, with a suggestion that he should
ride every day when he was able, a privilege which brought the boy more
healing than even the doctor's careful attentions.
He had instinctively shrank from visiting George Martin, although that
young man had been to his home three or four times during his illness.
It was a fine afternoon, and he knew he was able to ride over to
George's father's farm, over three miles distant. He longed to talk over
the war with him, and yet he had a feeling of delicacy lest George might
be sensitive about any reference to his own misfortune. But he could not
help going, and he found George sitting on a bench in the orchard, where
the green buds were just beginning to shoot forth their promise for
future abundance.
“I'm {172}glad indeed to see you able to come down here, Ralph,” was
George's cordial greeting. “I've been wishing all day for some one to
talk over old times with.”
“Old times! Yes, we were happy, good-for-nothing lads in those days, I
know, and gave our teachers lots of uneasiness.”
“So we did, but I don't refer to those days; I mean the days in the
army.”
Ralph was all attention at once. “How did you like the service?” he
ventured.
[Illustration: 9181]
“Liked it clear through--way down to the bottom. You know how I lost my
arm?” he said, pointing to the empty sleeve.
Ralph nodded. He longed to know more of the particulars, but would not
ask.
“That was a great day. You should have been there, and seen a real
fight. Not that a fight on land ain't all right, but there's a dash and
inspiration about a battle on board ship that I enjoy! You feel as if
the boat were your castle--you can't get away from it, and you're bound
no one else shall get into it. Then the waves rocking beneath your feet,
the shells screaming and dancing over the water, and the thought that
your boat is almost a living thing, lends you a desperation nothing else
can equal.”
Ralph smiled faintly. To his way of thinking those sensations were
common to all who went into battle, whether on land or water.
“You know when I went into the service I made my way to {173}Washington
at once. I didn't wait to be enlisted here, but I knew Uncle Dick, who
lived there, could get me onto a war-ship, and he did.
[Illustration: 0182]
“Through his influence I went on the Cumberland. She was a wooden vessel,
but stanch and trim, with a good commander, {174}Lieutenant Morris, whom
we all liked. He was brave, resolute and determined. The Merrimac, under
Commander Franklin Buchanan, was trying to raise the blockade, and do us
all the harm she could. She was steaming round Hampton Roads, waiting
to sink any of the boats that were maintaining that blockade. Commodore
Buchanan evidently fancied he had an easy job on hand, but as soon as
we sighted the ungainly-looking craft, our hearts were made glad with
orders to pour a broadside into her, which we lost no time in doing. We
tried our best to destroy her, but her heavy iron plates withstood the
assault. Had she been made of wood, we would have made a sieve of her
with our charge. We did her some damage, though, for our shot went clear
into her open ports, and killed some of her crew. I heard some one say
when a man's hit he don't cry out, but I know better, for the shrieks
of the wounded on both sides that day, mingled with the roaring of the
shells, the crashing of shot against the iron-sheeted monster, and the
confusion of voices as orders rang out, sound in my ears yet.
“Lieutenant Morris would not say die, and when the rifled shot from the
big house, for that's what it looked like, tore our decks fore and aft,
the Merrimac's commander followed it up by turning his boat so that
he rammed into our gay little vessel's side, and left a huge gash. Our
commander's blood was up. We felt the frigate slowly settling beneath
our feet, but not a man dreamed of forsaking his gun, but steadily
poured fire into the Merrimac. We were willing to die, rather than
surrender, and even though the breath came quick and hard, and we may
have quailed a little as we looked at our watery grave, yet we waited
calmly to hear our leader's orders, while the enemy was dealing us
terrible blows with shot and shell.
“I felt a sharp pang, a numbness followed. The whole world was growing
black, and for a second I thought the night had suddenly settled over
us, and I knew no more, until one day I woke up in hospital, and found
my right arm and shoulder had parted company. A {175}messmate told me
what happened after I fell to the deck. Our brave commander would not
surrender; the water rose steadily, or, rather, the Cumberland sank
steadily, until the waves washed across her gun deck, when the crew
sprang overboard, and the ships boats carried them ashore.
[Illustration: 0184]
“Tom said it was a sickening sight--they had done us great havoc, but all
of our wounded who could be dragged into the boats were saved, myself
among the number. Tom said it was a gloomy sight when the trusty frigate
keeled over, and sank to the bottom, but she went down game, for her
top-masts stood above the water, with her flag flapping in the face of
the Merrimac and her commander.”
George paused. A sparkle was in his eyes, and he laughed aloud at his
own idea. He continued: “But I had my revenge when I heard about the
Monitor giving it to the Merrimac. You know Ericsson invented that queer
boat. It's a curious affair. You never saw it? It looks for all the
world like a big cheese box, with a round chimney or turret on it. This
turret carries two monstrous guns, {176}and it can be turned round so
that they can be pointed in any direction.
[Illustration: 9185]
“The mischief she did was something worth talking about. Lieutenant John
L. Worden commanded her, but he met with a mishap at the start. He was
looking through the sight hole, taking observations, when a shell struck
it, and hurt him badly, making him blind for a time, and he had to
turn over the command to Lieutenant Sam Greene. The two boats kept on
fighting wildly, each trying to ram the other. Why, they came so close
once in the fight, that both guns went off together, causing such a
shock that the crew at the after guns were knocked down, and some of
them bled at the nose and ears. They fought four hours, so the paper
stated, and the Merri-mac went back to Norfolk, badly used up, for they
put her in dry dock.”
George would have talked on all night, it seemed, but Ralph, who had
enjoyed the brief story of the sea-fight, said he must go, as the sun
would soon be down. But that visit was but one of many which he made to
George, and each one increased his anxiety to return to the army. He was
gaining health under his mother's care and the long rest he was having,
and he often laughingly declared that if the regimental doctor could see
him now, he'd never believe in his own predictions again.
Grateful as his mother was for his restoration to health, yet it
saddened her, for she saw it was useless to keep him back, for he talked
of nothing else but returning to the army. She felt {177}that he had
done his duty, and she could not see why that did not content him. But
she realized that it did not; she saw that he was determined to go, and
her heart sank like lead in her bosom at the thought.
The day for parting came, and as Ralph, with a few other soldiers who
were returning to their regiments, started for the great city beyond,
from which they were to proceed to the front, she thought her heart
would break at this second leave-taking. Her boy loved her more dearly
than she knew; but he honestly thought his duty to his country was above
any private considerations, and that he should be guilty of a great sin
if he did not return to that duty.
The news from the front was most inspiring. Each day the “war news” was
of more absorbing interest. Ralph wanted to be back with the army. He
had no longer any ambition to win any especial distinction, but he was
content to do his part as one of the vast army of great heroes of whom
the world will never hear, but whose whole duty was done, quietly and
unobtrusively.
How many sublime acts of self-sacrifice, of generous comradeship, were
performed, on the field of battle, in camp and hospital, and even in
prison life, will never be known. But a record has been kept in a higher
ledger than a worldly one, and when that is revealed these deeds will
come to the knowledge of all men.{178}
[Illustration: 0187]