The Drummer Boy

by J. T. Trowbridge

  III.

  UNDER CANVAS.

  The cars were soon off; and the heart of Frank swelled within him as hefelt himself now fairly embarked in his new adventure.

  Soon enough the white tents of the camp rose in sight. The Stars andStripes floating under the blue sky, the soldiers in their blue uniforms,the sentinels with their glittering bayoneted guns pacing up and down,and above all, the sound of a drum, which he considered now to be a partof his life, made him feel himself already a hero.

  Several other recruits had come down in the train with him, accompaniedby an officer. Frank was a stranger to them all. But he was not longwithout acquaintances, for he had scarcely alighted at the depot when hesaw coming towards him his neighbor and chum, Jack Winch, in soldierclothes--a good-looking young fellow, a head taller and some two yearsolder than himself.

  "Hello, Jack! how are you?"

  "Tip-top!" said Jack, looking happy as a prince.

  The officer who had brought down the recruits went with them to thequartermaster's department, and gave orders for their outfit. WhenFrank's turn came, his measure was taken, and an astonishing quantity ofarmy clothing issued to him. He had two pairs of drawers, two shirts, twopairs of stockings, a blouse, a dress coat, an overcoat, a cap, a pair ofshoes, a pair of pantaloons, and a towel. Besides these he received aknapsack, with two blankets; a haversack, with a tin plate, knife andfork, and spoon; and a tin cup and canteen. He had also been told that heshould get his drum and drumsticks; but in this he was disappointed. Thedepartment was out of drums.

  "Never mind!" said Jack, consolingly. "You may consider yourself lucky todraw your clothes so soon. I had to wait for mine till I was examined andsworn in. The surgeons are so lazy, or have so much to do, or something,it may be a week before you'll be examined."

  Frank was soon surrounded by acquaintances whom he scarcely recognized atfirst, they looked so changed and strange to him in their uniforms.

  "How funny it seems," said he, "to be shaking hands with soldiers!"

  "These are our tents," said Jack. "They all have their names, you see."

  Which fact Frank had already noticed with no little astonishment.

  The names were lettered on the canvas of the tents in characters far moregrotesque than elegant One was called the "Crystal Palace;" another, the"Mammoth Cave;" a third bore the mystical title of "Owl House;" while afourth displayed the sign of the "Arab's Home;" etc.

  "My traps are in the 'Young Volunteer,'" said Jack. "We give it thatname, because we are all of us young fellows in there. You can tie uphere too,"--entering the tent,--"if you want to."

  Frank gladly accepted the proposition. "How odd it must seem," he said,"to live and sleep under canvas!"

  "You'll like it tip-top, when you get used to it," remarked Jack, with anair of old experience.

  Frank made haste to take off his civil suit and put on his soldierclothes. Jack pronounced the uniform a splendid fit, and declared thathis friend looked "stunning."

  "But you must have your hair cut, Frank. Look here; this is the fightingtrim!" and Jack Winch, pulling off his cap, made Frank laugh till thetears came into his eyes, at the ludicrous sight. Jack's hair had beenclipped so close to his head that it was no longer than mouse's hair,giving him a peculiarly grim and antique appearance.

  "You look like Sinbad's Old Man of the Sea!" exclaimed Frank. "I won'thave my hair cut that way!"--feeling of his own soft brown curls, whichhis mother was so fond of, and which he meant to preserve, if only forher sake.

  "Pshaw! you look like a girl! Come, Frank, there's a fellow in the 'OwlHouse' that cuts all the hair for our company."

  But here an end was put to the discussion by some of the boys withoutcrying, "Dinner!"

  "Dinner!" repeated Jack. "Hurrah! let's go and draw our rations."

  Three or four young volunteers now came into the tent, and, opening theirhaversacks, drew forth their tin plates, knives and forks. Frank did thesame, and observing that they all took their tin cups, he took his also,and followed them, with quite as much curiosity as appetite, to thecook-shop, where a large piece of bread and a thick slice of boiled beefwas dealt out to each, together with a cup of coffee.

  "How droll it seems to eat rations!" said Frank, on their return, seatinghimself on his bed,--a tick filled with straw,--and using his lap for atable.

  The bread was sweet; but the beef was of not quite so fine a quality asFrank had been used to at home and the coffee was not exactly like hismother's.

  "Here, have some milk," said Jack. "I've an account open with thiswoman"--a wrinkled old creature, who came into the tent with a littlegirl, bearing baskets of cakes and fruits, and a can of milk.

  "No, I thank you," said Frank. "I may as well begin with the fare I shallhave to get used to some time, for I mean to send all my pay home to myfolks except what I'm actually obliged to use myself."

  "You'll be a goose if you do!" retorted Jack. "I shan't send home any ofmine. I'm my own man now, ye see, and what I earn of Uncle Sam I'm goingto have a gallus old time with, you may bet your life on that!"

  Frank drew a long breath, for he felt that the time had now come to havethe talk with his friend which Mr. Winch had requested.

  "I saw your father, this morning, Jack."

  "Did ye though? What did the old sinner have to say?"

  "I don't like to hear you call your father such names," said Frank,seriously. "And if you had seen how bad he felt, when he spoke of yourenlisting----"

  "Pshaw, now, Frank! don't be green! don't get into a pious strain, I begof ye! You'll be the laughing-stock of all the boys, if ye do."

  Frank blushed to the eyes, not knowing what reply to make. He had felt nolittle pride in Mr. Winch's responsible charge to him, and had intendedto preach to his more reckless companion a good, sound, moral discourseon this occasion. But to have his overtures received in this manner wasdiscouraging.

  "Come," continued Jack, taking something from the straw, "we are soldiersnow, and must do as soldiers do. Have a drink, Frank?"--presenting asmall bottle.

  "What is it?" Frank asked, and when told, "Brandy," he quickly withdrewthe hand he had extended. "No, I thank you, Jack, I am not going to drinkany thing of that sort, unless I need it as a medicine. And I am sorry tosee you getting into such habits so soon."

  "Habits? what habits?" retorted Jack, blushing in his turn. "A littleliquor don't hurt a fellow. _I_ take it only as a medicine. You mustn'tgo to being squeamish down here, I tell you." And Jack drank a swallow ortwo, smacking his lips afterwards, as he returned the cork to the bottle.

  By this time Frank's courage was up--his moral courage, I mean, which ismore rare, as it is far more noble, than any merely physical bravery inthe face of danger.

  "I don't mean to be squeamish," he said; "but right is right, and wrongis wrong, Jack. And what was wrong for us at home isn't going to be rightfor us here. I, for one, believe we can go through this war without doingany thing that will make our parents ashamed of us when we return."

  "My eye!" jeered his companion; "and do you fancy a little swallow ofbrandy is going to make my folks ashamed of me?"

  "It isn't the single swallow I object to, Jack; it's the habit ofdrinking. That's a foolish thing, to say the least, for young fellows,like you and me, to get into; and we all know what it leads to. Who wantsto become a tobacco-spitting, rum-drinking, filthy old man?"

  "Ha, ha, ha," laughed Jack; rather feebly, however, for he could not helpfeeling that Frank was as much in the right as he was in the wrong. "Youlook a long ways ahead, it seems to me. I haven't thought of being an oldman yet."

  "If we live, we shall be men, and old men, too, some day," said Frank,without minding his sneers. "And you know we are laying the foundationsof our future characters now."

  "That's what your mother, or your Sunday school teacher, has been sayingto you."

  "No matter who has said it. I know it's true, and I hope I never shallfo
rget it. I mean to become a true, honest man if I live; and now, Ibelieve, is the time to begin."

  "O, no doubt you'll be great things," grinned Jack.

  The tone in which he said this was highly offensive; and Frank wasprovoked to retort,--

  "You don't seem even to have thought what you are going to be. You tryfirst one thing, then another, and stick to nothing. That's what yourfather said this morning, with tears in his eyes."

  Jack turned red as fire, either with anger or shame, or both, and seemedmeditating a passionate reply, when some of his companions, who had beeneating their rations outside, entered the tent.

  "Come in, boys," cried Jack, "and hear Frank preach. You didn't know wehad a chaplain in our company--did ye? That's the parson, there, with thegirl's hair. He can reel you off sermons like any thing. Fire away,Frank, and show the boys."

  "Yes, steam up, parson," said Joe Harris, "and give us a specimen."

  "Play away, seven," cried Ned Ellis, as if Frank had been a fire-engineof that number.

  These, together with other facetious remarks, made Frank so ashamed andconfused that he could not say a word. For experience had not yet taughthim that even the most reckless and depraved, however they may laugh athonest seriousness in a companion, cannot help respecting him for it intheir hearts.

  "You needn't blush so, young chap," said tall Abram Atwater, a stalwart,square-shouldered, square-featured young man of twenty, who alone had notjoined in the derisive merriment. "It won't hurt any of these fellows topreach to them, and they know it."

  Frank cast a grateful look at the tall soldier, who, though almost astranger to him, had thus generously taken his part against some whoprofessed to be his friends. He tried to speak, but could not articulatea word, he was still feeling so hurt by Jack's ingratitude. Perhaps hispride was as much wounded as his friendship; for, as we have hinted, hehad been a good deal puffed up with the idea of his influence over Jack.This incident, as we shall see, had a bad effect upon Frank himself; for,instead of persevering in the good work he had undertaken, he wasinclined to give up all hope of exerting an influence upon any body.

  In the mean time Jack was washing down the sermon, as he said, with morebrandy.

  "'Twas such an awful dry discourse, boys;" and he passed the bottlearound to the others, who all drank, except Abram Atwater. That stalwartyoung soldier stood in the midst of the tent, straight and tall, with hisarms calmly folded under his blue cape (a favorite attitude of his), andmerely shook his head, with a mild and tolerant smile, when the liquorwas passed to him.

  Such was the beginning of Frank's camp life. It was not long before hehad recovered from his confusion, and was apparently on good terms withhis messmates. He spent the afternoon in walking about the camp; watchingsome raw recruits at their drill; watching others playing cards, orcheckers, or backgammon; getting acquainted, and learning the ways of thecamp generally.

  So the day passed; and that night Frank lay for the first timesoldier-fashion, under canvas. He went to bed with his clothes on, anddrew his blanket over him. It was not like going to bed in his nicelittle room at home, with Willie snuggled warmly beside him; yet therewas a novelty in this rude and simple mode of life that was charming. Hiscompanions, who lay upon the ground around him, kept him awake with theirstories long after the lights were out; but at length, weary with theday's excitement, he fell asleep.

  There,--a dweller now in the picturesque white city of tents gleaming inthe moonlight, ruggedly pillowed on his soldier's couch, those soft browncurls tossed over the arm beneath his head,--the drummer boy dreamed ofhome. The last night's consultation and the morning's farewells werelived over again in the visions of his brain; and once more his mothervisited his bedside; and again his father accompanied him to therecruiting office. But now the recruiting office was changed into abarber's shop, which seemed to be a tent supported by a striped pole;where, at John Winch's suggestion, he was to have his hair trimmed to thefighting-cut. The barber was a stiff-looking officer in epaulets, whoheated a sword red-hot in an oven, while Frank preached to him a neatlittle sermon over his ration. Then the epaulets changed to a pair ofroosters with flaming red combs, that flapped their wings and crowed. Andthe barber, approaching Frank with his red-hot sword, made him lie on hisback to be shaved. Then followed an excruciating sense of having his hairpulled and his face scraped and burnt, which made him move and murmur inhis sleep; until, a ruthless attempt being made to thrust the sword uphis nostrils, he awoke.

  Shouts of laughter greeted him. His companions had got up at midnight,lighted a candle, and burnt a cork, with which they had been giving himan artificial mustache and whiskers. He must have been a ludicrous sight,with his countenance thus ornamented, sitting up on his bed, rubbing hiseyes open, and staring about him, while Winch and Harris shrieked withmirth, and Ned Ellis flapped his arms and crowed.

  Frank put up his hand to his head. O grief! his curls had been mangled bydull shears in the unskilful hands of John Winch. The depredator wasstill brandishing the miserable instrument, which he had borrowed for theoccasion of the fellow who cut the company's hair in the "Owl House."

  Frank's sudden awaking, astonishment, and chagrin were almost too muchfor him. He could have cried to think of a friend playing him such atrick; and to think of his lost curls! But he had made up his mind toendure every thing that might befall him with unflinching fortitude. Hemust not seem weak on an occasion like this. His future standing with hiscomrades might depend upon what he should say and do next. So he summonedall his stoutness of heart, and accepted the joke as good-naturedly aswas possible under the circumstances.

  "I wish you'd tell me what the fun is," he said, "so that I can laughtoo."

  "Give him the looking-glass," cried Jack Winch, holding the candle, whileEllis stopped crowing, to bring a little three-cornered fragment of abroken mirror, by which Frank was shown the artistic burnt-cork work onhis face. He could hardly help laughing himself at his own hideousness,now that the first disagreeable sense of being the sport of his friendshad passed.

  "I hope you have had fun enough to pay for waking me up out of thequeerest dream any body ever had," he said. And he told all about thebarber, and the epaulets that became roosters, and the red-hot sword fora razor, etc. Then, looking at himself again in the piece of glass, hecalled out, "Give me those shears;" and taking them, he manfully cut offhis mutilated curls. "There, that isn't exactly the fighting-cut, Jack,but 'twill do. Now, boys, tell some more of those dull stories, and Iguess I can go to sleep again."

  And he lay down once more, declining to accept an urgent invitation topreach.

  "There, boys," said stout Abram Atwater, who had sat all the timecross-legged, a silent, gravely-smiling spectator of the scene, "youshan't fool him any more. He has got pluck; he has shown it. And now lethim alone."