The Drummer Boy

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Then he slipped on the cartridge-box, and took up Winch's gun; for this
was the resolution which inspired him--to assume the poltroon's place in
the company, and by his own conduct to atone for the disgrace he had
brought upon it.

But the gun-stock was, as has been said, shattered; and Frank could not
have the satisfaction of revenging himself and his comrades for Winch's
cowardice with Winch's own gun. So he threw it down, and took up Ellis's,
which he found ready loaded and primed.

While he was examining the piece, he remembered the shots which he had
taken for spent balls, and bethought him to look around the woods in the
direction from which they had come. Raising his eyes above the
undergrowth, he beheld a singular phenomenon.

At first, he thought it was a wild animal--a coon, or a wildcat, coming
down a tree. Then there were two wildcats, descending together, or
preparing to descend. Then the wildcats became two human legs clasped
around the trunk, and two human arms appeared enjoying an equally close
hug above them. The body to which these visible members appertained was
itself invisible, being on the farther side of the trunk.

"That's the chap that was shooting at us!" was Frank's instantaneous
conviction.

And now he could plainly discern an object slung across the man's back,
as his movements swung it around a little to one side. It was the
sharpshooter's rifle.

Frank was so excited that he felt himself trembling--not with fear, but
with the very ardor of his ambition.

"Since he has had two shots at me, why shouldn't I have as much as one at
him?"

To disable and bring in the rebel who had shot the badge from his
arm--what a triumph!

But he was not in a good position for an effective shot, even if he could
have made up his mind to fire at a person who, though without doubt an
enemy, was not at the moment defending himself. It seemed, after all, too
dreadful a thing deliberately to kill a man.

Frank's excitement did not embarrass his faculties in the least, but only
rendered them all the more keenly alive and vigilant. It took him but a
moment to decide what to do. Through the swamp he ran with a lightness
and ability of which in calmer moments he would have been scarcely
capable. The exigency of the occasion inspired him. Such leaps he took
over miry places! so safely and swiftly be ran the length of an old mossy
log! so nimbly he avoided the undergrowth! and so suddenly he arrived at
last at the tree the rebel was descending!

For he was a rebel indeed. Frank knew that by his gray uniform and short
jacket. He had been perched in the thick top of a tall pine to pick off
our men during the skirmish. It was he who had taken the bark from the
tree near Captain Edney's head. It was he who had basely thought to
assassinate those who were carrying away the wounded. And now, the
advancing troops having passed him, he was taking advantage of the
solitary situation to slip down the trunk and make his escape through the
woods.

Unfortunately for him, he could not go up and down trees like a squirrel.
He proceeded _hugging_ his way so slowly and laboriously that Frank
reached the spot when he was still within a dozen feet of the ground.
Hearing a noise, and looking down over his arm, and seeing Frank, he
would have jumped the remainder of the distance. But Frank was prepared
for that.

"Stop, or I'll fire!"

Shrill and menacing rang the boy's determined tones through the soul of
the treed rebel. He saw the gun pointed up at him; so he stopped.

"What's wanting?" said he, gruffly.

"I want you to throw down that rifle as quick as ever you can!" cried
Frank.

"What do you want of my rifle?"

"I've a curiosity to see what sort of a piece you use to shoot at men
carrying off the wounded."

And the "grayback" (as the boys termed the rebels) could hear the ominous
click of the gun lock in Frank's hands.

"Was it you I fired at?"

"Yes, it was; and I'm bound to put lead into you now, if you don't do as
I tell you pretty quick!"

"I can't throw my gun down; I can't get it off," remonstrated the man.

"You never will come down from that tree alive, unless you do!" said
Frank.

"Well, take the d----d thing then!" growled the man. And unclasping one
arm from the tree, while he held on with the other and his two legs, he
slipped the belt over his head, and dropped the gun to the ground. "If it
had been good for any thing, I reckon you wouldn't be here now, bothering
me!" he added, significantly.

"No doubt!" said Frank. "You are brave fellows, to shoot out of trees at
men carrying off the wounded. Wait! I'm not quite ready for you yet."

And he stood under the tree, with his musket pointed upwards, ready
cocked, and with the point of the bayonet in rather ticklish proximity to
the most exposed and prominent part of the rebel's person.

"Ye think I'm going to stick here all day?" growled the desperate
climber.

"You'll stick there till you throw me down your revolver," Frank
resolutely informed him.

"How do you know I've got a revolver?"

"I saw your hand make a motion at your pocket. You thought you'd try a
shot at me. But you saw at the very next motion you'd be a dead man!"

"You mean to say you'd blow my brains out?"

"Yes, if your brains are where my gun is aimed, as I think the brains of
rebels must be, or they never would have seceded."

Frank's gun, by the way, was aimed at the above mentioned very exposed
and prominent part.

"Grayback" grinned and growled.

"Come, my young joker, I can't stand this!"

"You'll have to stand it till you throw down that revolver!"

"I'm slipping!"

"Then I'll give you something sharp to slip on!"

The man felt that he had really betrayed himself by making the
involuntary movement towards his breast-pocket, which Frank had been too
shrewd not to notice. The cocked gun, and bayonet, and resolute young
face below, were inexorable. So he yielded.

"Don't throw it towards me! Drop it the other side!" cried the wary
Frank.

The revolver was tossed down. Then Frank stepped back, and let the man
descend from his uncomfortable position.

"Boy!" said the man, as soon as his feet were safe on the ground, and he
could turn to look at his captor, "I reckon you're a cute 'un! A Yankee,
ain't ye?"

"Yes, and proud to own it!" said Frank. "Keep your distance!"--as the man
made a move to come nearer--"and don't you stoop to touch that gun!"

"Look here," said the man, coaxingly, "you'd better let me go! I'm out
of ammunition, and can't hurt any body. I'll give ye ten dollars if you
will."

"In confederate shinplasters?"

The rebel laughed. "No, in Uncle Sam's gold."

"You don't place a very high value on yourself," said Frank. "You are too
modest."

"Twenty dollars!"--jingling the money in his pocket. "Come, I'm a
gentleman at home, and I don't want to go north. Well, say thirty
dollars."

"If you hadn't said you were a gentleman, I might trade," said Frank.
"But a gentleman is worth more than you bid. You wouldn't insult a negro
by offering that for him!"

"Fifty dollars, then! I see you are sharp at a bargain. And you shall
keep that revolver."

"I intend to keep this, any way," said Frank, picking it up. "And the gun
that shot at me, too," slinging it on his back.

The rebel, seeing his determination, rose in his bids at once to a
hundred dollars.

"Not for a hundred thousand!" said Frank, who was now ready to move his
prisoner. "You are going the way my bayonet points, and no other. March!"

The rebel marched accordingly.

Frank followed at a distance of two or three paces, prepared at any
moment to use prompt measures in case his prisoner should attempt to turn
upon him or make his escape.

"How many of you fellows are hid around in these trees?" said Frank.

"Not many just around here--lucky for you!" muttered the disconsolate
rebel.

"Is that your favorite way of fighting?"

"People fight any way they can when their soil is invaded."

"What are holes cut in the pine trees for,--foot-holds for climbing?"

"Holes? them's turpentine boxes!" said the man, in some surprise at
Frank's ignorance. "Didn't you ever see turpentine boxes before?"

"Never till last evening. Is that the way you get turpentine?"

"That's the way we get turpentine. The sap begins to run and fill the
boxes along in March, and when they are full we dip it out with ladles
made on purpose, and put it into barrels."

"O, you needn't stop to explain!" cried Frank. "Push ahead!"

And the rebel pushed ahead.

It was a moment of unspeakable satisfaction to the drummer boy when he
had brought his prisoner through all the difficulties of the way to the
road. There he had him safe.

He was now in the midst of shocking and terrible scenes, but he heeded
them not as much as he would have heeded the smallest accident to a
fellow-creature a few hours before. Already he seemed familiar with
battles and all their horrors. Men were hurrying by with medical stores.
The wounded were passing, on stretchers, or in the arms of their friends,
or limping painfully, ghastly, bleeding, but heroic still. They smiled as
they showed their frightful hurts. One poor fellow had had his arm torn
off by a cannon ball: the flesh hung in strings. Some lay by the
roadside, faint from the loss of blood. And all the time the deadly,
deafening tumult of the battle went on.

To guard his prisoner securely was Frank's first thought. But greater,
more absorbing even than that, was the wild wish to see the enemies of
his country defeated, and to share in the glorious victory.

"Frank Manly! what sort of a beast have you got there?" cried a soldier,
returning from the action with a slight wound.

Frank recognized a member of another company in the same regiment to
which he belonged.

"I've got a sharpshooter that I've taken prisoner." And he briefly
related his adventure, every word of which the rebel, who rather admired
his youthful captor, voluntarily confirmed.

"It's just as he tells you," he said, assuming a candid, reckless air. "I
am well enough satisfied. If your men are equal to your boys, I shall
have plenty of company before night."

"You think we shall have you all prisoners?" inquired Frank, eagerly.

"This island," replied the rebel, "is a perfect trap. I've known it from
the beginning. You outnumber us two to one, and if the fight goes against
us, we've no possible chance of escape. We've five thousand men on the
island, and if we're whipped you'll make a pretty respectable bag. But
you never can conquer us,"--he hastened to add, fearing lest he was
conceding too much.

"Can't, eh?" laughed Frank. "Where's the last ditch?"

"Never mind about that," said the prisoner, with a peculiar grin.

By this time several other stragglers had gathered around them, eager to
hear the story of the drummer boy's exploit.

The rebel had looked curiously at his youthful captor ever since he had
heard him called by name. At length he said:--

"Have you got a brother in the confederate army?"

Frank changed color. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because we have a Captain Manly, from the north somewhere, who looks
enough like you to be a pretty near relation."

Frank trembled with interest as he inquired, "What is his given name?"

"Captain--Captain _George_ Manly, I'm pretty sure."

"Yes, sir,"--and sorry tears came into Frank's eyes as he spoke,--"I
suppose I must own he is my brother."

"Well, you've a smart chance of meeting him, I reckon,--if, as I said,
your men are equal to your boys. For he's fighting against you to-day,
and he's one of the pluckiest, and he won't run."

XXX.

THE BOYS MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

Frank was anxious to inquire further concerning his apostate brother; but
at this moment one of Foster's aids came up, and saw the prisoner.

"Where did you find that fellow?" The story was quickly told. "Well,"
said the officer, "you've taken the first prisoner to-day."

He then turned to question the captive, who seemed inclined to talk
freely about the position and force of the confederates.

"I'll take this fellow in charge," he said, perceiving that it was in his
power to give valuable information. "Come, too, if you like."

"I thank you; I want to join my company," said Frank.

"You'd rather do that than come and see the general?"

"I can see him any time when he wants me, but we don't have a fight every
day, sir."

"Well, he shall hear of you. Can I do any thing for you?"

"If you please, you may take this gun that I have captured; one is enough
for me."

The officer took it, saying, as he turned to go,--

"A spirited boy, and as modest as he is brave!"

In the mean time Frank's comrades in the fight were cutting their way
through a thick swampy jungle in the direction of the enemy's left flank.

Relieved of his prisoner, his ardor inflamed rather than quenched by the
evil tidings he had heard of his brother, he followed in their track,
passing directly across the fire of the battery.

The hurricane of destruction swept howling over him. The atmosphere was
thick with smoke. Grape-shot whizzed through the bushes. The scream of
rifled shot seemed to fill the very air with terror and shuddering. Right
before him a shell struck a forest tree, shivering limbs and trunk in an
instant, as if a bolt from heaven had fallen upon it. He felt that at any
moment his tender body too might be torn in pieces; but he believed God's
arm was about him, and that he would be preserved. Deep and solemn, happy
even, was that conviction. A sense of the grand and terrible filled him;
the whole soul of the boy was aroused. He was not afraid of any thing. He
felt ready for any thing, even death, in his country's service.

The mud was deep, and savage the entanglement of bushes on every side.
But the troops, breaking through, had made the way comparatively easy to
follow, and Frank soon overtook the regiment.

Great was Captain Edney's surprise at sight of him, with a gun in his
hand and with the glow of youthful heroism in his face.

"What are you here for?"

"To beg permission to take Winch's place in the ranks."

"Your place is with the ambulance corps."

"I got excused from that, sir. I am not strong enough to carry heavy men
through the swamps," said Frank, with a smile.

"But strong enough to take a man's place in the ranks!" said Captain
Edney.

"I would like to have you try me, sir."

You may know that Captain Edney loved the boy to whom he gave so many
words and such serious thought at a time of action and peril. Perhaps he
had heard of Winch's pusillanimity, and understood the spirit which
prompted Frank to fill his place. Certain it is he saw in the lad's eye
the guarantee that, if permitted, he would give no cowardly account of
himself that day. So, reluctantly, dreading lest evil might happen to
him, he granted his request; and with a thrill of joy, Frank sprang to
Atwater's side.

"I'm here, old Abe!"

"I'm glad--and sorry!" said Abe.

The company had halted, awaiting the movement of the troops in front.

"We are getting into a splendid position!" said Gray, who had passed
through the undergrowth to reconnoitre. "We're fairly on their flank, and
not discovered yet!"

"How far did you go?" asked Captain Edney.

"To the clearing, which is just there where the woods look lighter. I
could see the guns of the battery blazing away, and rebels in the woods
supporting it. They're too busy to notice us."

"We're discovered, though!" said Captain Edney as a bullet came chipping
its way among the twigs above them.

"The sharpshooters are after us!" said Gray, gayly. "And now we're after
them!"

The order was given to advance. The men dashed forward through the
bushes. They soon made the clearing, and marching along its edge, opened
fire by file upon the battery and the rebels in the woods.

"You do well, Frank!" said Atwater, seeing his young companion coolly
loading and firing at his side.

"It's a perfect surprise to them! they didn't think we could do it!"
cried Gray, elated. "Lively, boys! lively."

The firing, regular at first, running along the line from right to left,
soon became a continual rattling, each man loading at will, and firing
whenever an enemy's head showed itself.

"There! I popped you over, you sneaking rebel!" cried Seth Tucket,
watching the effect of his shot. "Take the fellow next to him there,
Harris! behind that stump!"

"Let him put up his head a little higher!" said Harris, taking aim.

He fired. The rebel dropped, not behind the stump, but beside it.

"You've saved him!" shouted Tucket. "That'll pay for Ellis and Jack
Winch!"

The fire of the enemy in the woods was soon concentrated on Captain
Edney's company, which happened to be most exposed.

"Fire and load lying!" rang the captain's voice through the din.

Frank saw those next him throw themselves down behind a fallen tree. He
did the same. The trunk presented an excellent rest for his musket, and
he fired across it. But when he came to load, he found difficulty. He had
been exercised in the manual of arms, yet the operation of ramming the
cartridge while on his back was beyond his practice. Give him time, and
he could do it. But he felt that time was precious, and that every shot
told.

He glanced at Atwater, resting on his left side as he brought his gun
back after discharging it; taking out his cartridge; then turning on his
back, holding the piece with both hands and placing the butt between his
feet; and in that position, with the barrel over his breast, charging
cartridge, drawing rammer, and so forth.

All which the tall soldier performed scientifically and quickly. Yet
Frank saw that it took even him much longer to load lying than standing.
What, then, could he hope to do?

What he did was this. He deliberately got upon his feet, and with the
balls singing around him, proceeded unconcernedly with his loading.

"Down!" called Atwater to him; "down! You're making a target of
yourself!"

Frank resolutely went on with his loading.

"Down, there! down, Frank!" shouted Captain Edney.

Frank shouted back,--

"I can't load unless I stand up, sir!"

"Never mind that! Down!" repeated his captain, peremptorily.

"I've got my cartridge down, any way," said Frank, triumphantly, dropping
again behind the log.

"Why don't you obey orders?" cried Gray.

"The orders were to load and fire, and I was bound to obey them before
any others!" said Frank, preparing to prime.

Just then Atwater, who was again on his back, suddenly dropped his piece,
which fell across his left arm, and brought his right hand to his breast.
The movement was so abrupt and unusual it attracted Frank's attention.

"Are you hit, Abe?"

And in an instant he saw the answer to his hurried question in a gush of
blood which crimsoned the poor, brave fellow's breast.

"It has come!" said Atwater.

"How could it--and you lying down so!" ejaculated Frank.

"I don't know--never mind me!" replied Abe, faintly.

Then Frank remembered the mysterious shots aimed at him and Sinjin in the
woods, and the subsequent solution of the mystery. He looked up--all
around--overhead.

"What's the trouble, Manly?" screamed Tucket. "What do you see?"

"There!" Frank shouted, pointing upwards; "there! the man that killed
Atwater!"

And in the branches of a tree, which stood but a few paces in front of
them, he showed, half hidden by the thick masses, the figure of a rebel.

The sharpshooter was loading his piece. Frank saw the movement, and would
have hastened to avenge the death of his friend before the assassin could
fire again. But he was out of caps, and must borrow. Tucket's gun was
ready.

"'Die thou shalt, gray-headed ruffian!'"

Seth shouted the words up at the man in the tree, and lying on his back,
brought the butt of his gun to his shoulder, aimed heavenward, and fired.

Scarce had flame shot from the muzzle, when down came the rebel's gun
tumbling to the ground; pursued out of the tree by something that
resembled a huge bird, with spread wings, swooping down terribly, and
striking the ground with a jar heard even amid the thunder of battle.

It was the rebel himself.

"'Rattling, crashing, thrashing, thunder down!'" screamed Seth Tucket,
his ruling passion, poetry, strong even in battle.

The man, pitching forwards in his fearful somerset, had fallen within a
few feet of Frank. The boy recovering from his astonishment at the awful
sight, felt a strange curiosity to see if he was dead.

He looked over the log. There lay the wretch, a hideous heap, the face of
him upturned and recognizable.

Where had Frank seen that grim countenance, that short, stiff, iron-gray
hair? Somewhere, surely. He looked again, trying to fix his memory.

"I swan to man, ef it ain't old Buckley!"

Seth was right. It was the Maryland secessionist whose turkeys the boys
had stolen, and who, in consequence, had made haste to avenge his wrongs
by joining the confederate army.

A strange, sickening sensation came over Frank at the discovery. Thus the
evil he had done followed him. But for that wild freak of plundering the
poor man's poultry-yard, he might be plodding now on his Maryland farm,
and Atwater would not be lying there so white and still with a bullet in
his breast.

XXXI.

"VICTORY OR DEATH."

Where all this time was the old drum-major? He too had disappeared from
the ambulance corps to assume, like Frank, a position of still more
arduous service and greater danger.

Shortly after Frank left him, word came that the battery of
boat-howitzers, which, from a curve in the road that commanded the rebel
works, had been doing splendid execution, was suffering terribly, and
getting short of hands. It must soon withdraw unless reinforced. But who
would volunteer to help work the guns?

The old man had been familiar with artillery practice. At the thought of
the service and the peril his spirit grew proud within him. But his heart
yearned for Frank.

"Where is Manly?" he inquired of Ellis.

"I believe he has gone into the fight with our company," said the wounded
volunteer.

The truth flashed upon the veteran. Yes, the boy he loved had gone before
him into danger. He no longer hesitated, or lost any time in getting
leave to report himself to the commander of the battery.

"What can you do?" was the hurried question put to him, as he stood in
the thick powder-smoke, calmly asking for work.

Just then, a gunner was taken off his feet by a cannon-ball.

"I can take this fellow's place, sir," said the old man, grimly.

"Take it!" replied the officer.

The wounded sailor was borne away, and the old drummer, springing to the
howitzer, assisted in working it until, its ammunition exhausted, the
battery was ordered to withdraw.

During the severest part of the action Mr. Sinjin had observed a person
in citizen's dress, with his coat off, briskly handling the cannon-balls.
Their work done, he turned to speak with him.

"You are a friend of my young drummer boy, I believe," said the old man.

"Yes, and a friend of all his friends!" cordially answered the
white-sleeved civilian.

"You can preach well, and fight well," said the veteran, his eyes
gleaming with stern pride.

"I prefer to preach, but I believe in fighting too, when duty points that
way," said Mr. Egglestone,--for it was he, flushed and begrimed with his
toil at the deadly guns.

Even as they were speaking, a cannon-ball passed between them. Mr.
Egglestone was thrown back by the shock of the wind it carried, but
recovered instantly to find himself unhurt. But where was the old
drummer? He was not there. And it was some seconds before the bewildered
clergyman perceived him, several paces distant, lying on his face by the
road.

* * * *

The howitzers silenced, it was determined to storm the enemy's works.

Frank afterwards had the satisfaction of knowing that it was in part the
information gained from the prisoner he had taken that decided the
commanding general to order a charge.

Frank was with his company, where we left him, when suddenly yells rent
the air; and, looking, he saw the Zouaves of Parke's brigade dashing down
the causeway in front of the rebel redoubt.

They were met by a murderous fire. They returned it as they charged. As
their comrades fell, they passed over them unheedingly, and still kept
on--a sublime sight to look upon, in their wild Arab costumes, shouting,
"Zou! zou!" bounding like tigers, clearing obstructions, and sweeping
straight to the breastwork with their deadly bayonets.

"What is it?" asked Atwater, faintly.

"Victory!" answered Frank; for the firing ceased--the enemy were flying.

"That's enough!" And the still pallid face of the soldier smiled.

Victory! None but those who have fought a stern foe to the bloody close,
and seen his ranks break and fly, and the charging columns pursue, ranks
of bristling steel rushing in through clouds of battle smoke, know what
pride and exultation are in that word.

Victory! Reno's column, that had outflanked the rebels on the west side,
fighting valiantly, charged simultaneously with the Zouaves. The whole
line followed the example, and went in with colors flying, and shouts of
joy filling the welkin which had been shaken so lately with the jar of
battle. Over fallen trees, over pits and ditches, through brush, and bog,
and water, the conquering hosts poured in; Frank's regiment with the
rest, and himself among the foremost that planted their standard on the
breastwork.

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