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, Atwater 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, "Atwater'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 Atwater, the shadow of death he foresaw still
darkening the portal of his body, as if hesitating to enter, nor yet
willing to pass 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 God
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 Atwater, 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.
"So you see, my young friend," said Mr. Egglestone, "you have, for your
own comfort, and for the benefit of your good parents, a snug little
fortune, which you will come into possession of in due time. As for the
miniature, I may as well hand it to you now. I found it after the old
man's death. He always wore it on his heart."
He took it from its little soiled buckskin sheath, and gave it to Mrs.
Manly. She turned pale as she looked at it. Frank was eager to see it,
and, almost reluctantly, she placed it in his hands. It might almost have
passed for a portrait of himself, only it was that of a girl; and he knew
at once that it was his mother, as she had looked at his age.
While he was gazing at the singular memento of the old man's romantic
and undying attachment, Mrs. Manly looked away, with the air of one
resolutely turning her mind from one painful subject to another.
"I wish to ask you, Mr. Egglestone, what disposition has been made
of--I had another son, you know."
He understood her.
"I trust," said he, "that what Captain Edney and myself thought proper to
do will meet your approval. After the battle, the wife of Captain Manly
sent a request to have his body forwarded to her by a flag of truce. We
consulted Frank, who told us to do as we pleased about it. Accordingly,
we obtained permission to grant her request, and the body of her husband
was sent to her."
There was for a moment a look, as of one who felt bitter wrong, on Mrs.
Manly's face; but it passed.
"You did well, Mr. Egglestone. To her who had got the soul belonged the
body also. May peace go with it to her desolated home!"
"Mother!" whispered Frank, gazing still at the miniature, "tell me! am I
right? do I know now why it was the dear old man thought so much of me?"
"If you have not guessed, my child. I will tell you. Years ago, when I
was the little girl you see there, he was good enough to think _I_ was
good enough to marry him. That is all."
Frank said no more, but laid the picture on his heart,--for it was his,
and the dearest part of the dear old man's legacy.
XXXV.
CONCLUSION.
After a long delay Captain Edney came; apologizing for not appearing to
welcome his drummer boy's mother and his old schoolmistress before. His
excuse was valid: one of his men, S. Tucket by name, had got into a
scrape by running off with one of Uncle Sam's carts, and he had been to
help him out of it.
He found a new light shining in the hospital--the light of woman's
influence; the light of life to Frank and his friend Atwater, nor to them
only, but to all upon whom it shone.
Mrs. Manly remained in the hospital until her son was able to travel,
when leave of absence was granted him, and all his friends crowded to bid
him farewell, as he departed in the boat with his mother for the
north--for home!
Of his journey, of his happy arrival, the greetings from father, sister,
little brother, friends--of all this I would gladly write a chapter or
two; but he is no longer the Drummer Boy now, and so our business with
him is over. And so he left the service? Not he.
"I'm to be a Soldier Boy now!" he declared to all those who came to shake
him by the hand and hear his story from his own lips.
His wound was soon healed, and he hastened to return to his regiment; for
he was eager to be learning everything belonging to the profession of a
soldier. It was not long, however, before he came north again--this time
on surprising business. Captain Edney, who had won the rank of Colonel at
the battle of Newbern, had been sent home to raise a regiment; and he had
been permitted to choose from his own company such persons as he thought
best fitted to assist him, and hold commissions under him.
He chose Gray, Seth Tucket, and Frank. Another of our friends afterwards
joined the regiment, with the rank of First Lieutenant; having quite
recovered from his wound, under the tender nursing of his wife.
With his friends Edney, Gray, Tucket, and Atwater, Frank was as happy as
ever a young officer in a new service could be. He began as second
lieutenant; but----
But here our story must end; for to relate how he has fought his way up,
step by step, to a rank which was never more fairly earned, would require
a separate volume,--materials for which we may possibly find some day in
his own letters to his mother, and in those of Colonel Edney to his
sister Helen.
* * * *
Some extracts from a letter just received from the hero of these pages
may perhaps interest the reader.
"I cannot tell you, sir, how much astonished I was on opening the
package you sent me. I don't think the mysterious bundle that
contained the watch dear old 'Mr. St. John' gave me surprised me
half as much. I had never seen any _proof-sheets_ before, and hardly
knew what to make of them at first. Then you should have heard me
scream at Gray and Atwater. 'Boys,' says I, 'here's a story founded
on our adventures!' I sat up all that night reading it, and I must
confess I had to blush a good many times before I got through. I see
you have not called any of us by our real names; but I soon found
out who 'Abe,' and 'Seth,' and 'Jack Winch,' and all the other
characters are meant for. I have read ever so many pages to 'Seth'
himself, and he has laughed as heartily as any of us over his own
oddities. We all wonder how you could have written the story, giving
all the circumstances, and even the conversations that took place,
so correctly; but I remember, when I was at your house, you kept me
talking, and wrote down nearly every thing I said; besides which, I
find there was a good deal more in my journal and letters than I
supposed, when I consented to let you have them and make what use of
them you pleased. Little did I think then, that ever such a book as
the 'Drummer Boy' could be made out of them.
"You ask me to point out any important errors I may notice, in order
that you may correct them before the book is published. Well, the
night the row was in camp, when the 'Blues' cut down the captain's
tent, the company was ordered out, and the roll called, and three
other fellows put under guard, before Abe and I were let off. I might
mention two or three similar mistakes, but I consider them too
trifling to speak of. There are, besides, two or three omissions,
which struck me in reading the wind-up of the story. 'Jack Winch'
went home, and died of a fever within a month. If it isn't too late,
I wish you would put that in; for I think it shows that those who
think most of saving their lives are sometimes the first to lose
them.
"You might add, too, that 'Mr. Egglestone' is now the chaplain of our
regiment. We all love him, and he is doing a great deal of good here.
I have put the 'Drummer Boy' into his hands, and I just saw him
laughing over it. If every body reads it with the interest we do here
in camp, it will be a great success.
"There is another thing--but this you need not put into the book.
With the money my dear old friend and master left me, I have bought
the house our folks live in, so that, whatever happens to me, they
will never be without a home....
"In conclusion, let me say that, while you have told some things of
me I would rather every body should forget, you have, on the whole,
given me a much better character than I deserve.
"We are already beginning to call each other by the names you have
given us, and I take great pleasure in subscribing myself,
"Yours, truly,
"FRANK MANLY."
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