XXXI.
"VICTORY OR DEATH."
Where all this time was the old drum-major? He too had disappeared fromthe ambulance corps to assume, like Frank, a position of still morearduous service and greater danger.
Shortly after Frank left him, word came that the battery ofboat-howitzers, which, from a curve in the road that commanded the rebelworks, had been doing splendid execution, was suffering terribly, andgetting short of hands. It must soon withdraw unless reinforced. But whowould volunteer to help work the guns?
The old man had been familiar with artillery practice. At the thought ofthe service and the peril his spirit grew proud within him. But his heartyearned for Frank.
"Where is Manly?" he inquired of Ellis.
"I believe he has gone into the fight with our company," said the woundedvolunteer.
The truth flashed upon the veteran. Yes, the boy he loved had gone beforehim into danger. He no longer hesitated, or lost any time in gettingleave to report himself to the commander of the battery.
"What can you do?" was the hurried question put to him, as he stood inthe 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 thehowitzer, assisted in working it until, its ammunition exhausted, thebattery was ordered to withdraw.
During the severest part of the action Mr. Sinjin had observed a personin 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 thewhite-sleeved civilian.
"You can preach well, and fight well," said the veteran, his eyesgleaming with stern pride.
"I prefer to preach, but I believe in fighting too, when duty points thatway," said Mr. Egglestone,--for it was he, flushed and begrimed with histoil 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, butrecovered instantly to find himself unhurt. But where was the olddrummer? He was not there. And it was some seconds before the bewilderedclergyman perceived him, several paces distant, lying on his face by theroad.
* * * *
The howitzers silenced, it was determined to storm the enemy's works.
Frank afterwards had the satisfaction of knowing that it was in part theinformation gained from the prisoner he had taken that decided thecommanding general to order a charge.
Frank was with his company, where we left him, when suddenly yells rentthe air; and, looking, he saw the Zouaves of Parke's brigade dashing downthe causeway in front of the rebel redoubt.
They were met by a murderous fire. They returned it as they charged. Astheir comrades fell, they passed over them unheedingly, and still kepton--a sublime sight to look upon, in their wild Arab costumes, shouting,"Zou! zou!" bounding like tigers, clearing obstructions, and sweepingstraight 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, ranksof bristling steel rushing in through clouds of battle smoke, know whatpride 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 wholeline followed the example, and went in with colors flying, and shouts ofjoy filling the welkin which had been shaken so lately with the jar ofbattle. Over fallen trees, over pits and ditches, through brush, and bog,and water, the conquering hosts poured in; Frank's regiment with therest, and himself among the foremost that planted their standard on thebreastwork.
There were the abandoned cannon, still warm and smoking. There lay adeserted flag, bearing the Latin inscription "_Aut vincere autmori_,"--Victory or death,--flung down in the precipitate flight.
"They couldn't conquer, and they didn't want to die; so they split thedifference, and run," observed Seth Tucket.
There too lay the dead and dying, whom the boastful enemy had forsakenwhere they fell. One of these who had _not_ run was an officer--handsomeand young. He was not yet dead. A strange light was in his eyes as helooked on the forms of the foemen thronging around him, saw the faces ofthe victors, and heard the cheering. Success and glory were forthem--for him defeat and death.
"Lift me up," he said, "and let me look at you once."
They raised him to a sitting posture, supported partly by a gun-carriage,and partly by the arms of his conquerors. And they pressed around him,their voices hushed, their triumphant brows saddened with respect for thedying.
"Though we have been fighting each other," he said, solemnly, "we arestill brothers. God forgive me if I have done wrong! I too am a northernman,--I too----"
As he spoke, a figure in the uniform of his foes sprang through the crowdto his feet.
"O, my brother! O, my brother George!"
It was Frank Manly, who knelt, and with passionate grief clasped the handthat had clasped his in fondness and merry sport so often in the happydays of his childhood, when neither ever dreamed of their unnaturalseparation and this still more unnatural meeting.
"Frank! my little brother! so grown! is it you?" said the woundedcaptive, with dreamy surprise.
"O George! how could you?" Frank began, with anguish in his voice. But hechecked himself; he would not reproach his dying brother.
"My wife, you know!" was all the unhappy young man could murmur. Helooked at Frank with a faint and ever fainter smile of love, till hiseyes grew dim. "I am going, Frank. It is all wrong--I know now--but it istoo late. Tell mother----"
His words became inaudible, and he sank, swooning, in Captain Edney'sarms.
"What, George? what shall I tell mother?" pleaded Frank, in an agony.
"And father too," said the dying lips, in a moment of revivingrecollection. "And my sisters----" But the message was never uttered.
"George! O, George! I am here! Don't you see me?"
The dim eyes opened; but they saw not.
"Carry me up stairs! Let me die in the old room--our room, Frank."
It was evident his mind was wandering; he fancied himself once more athome, and wished to be laid in the little chamber where he used to sleepwith Frank, as Frank had slept with Willie in later days.
"Kiss me, mother!" The ashen face smiled; then the light faded from it;and the lips, grown cold and numb, murmured softly, "It is growingdark--Good night!"
And he slept--the sleep of eternity.
When Frank rose up from the corpse he had mastered himself. Then CaptainEdney saw, what none had noticed before, that blood was streaming downhis arm--the same arm that had been grazed before; this time it had beenshot through.
"You are wounded!"
"Yes--but not much. I must go--let me go and take care of Atwater!"
"But you need taking care of yourself!"--for he was deadly pale.
"No, sir--I--Abe, there----"
Even as the boy was speaking he grew dizzy and fell fainting in hiscaptain's arms.
The Drummer Boy Page 32