These last words he spoke rather bitterly. "When I was a young man my master amused himself with teaching me; but he found I learned so fast that he stopped short. But I carried it on by myself."
""Didn"t you find that difficult?"
""Yes, sir; but my will was strong. I managed to get books, now one way, now another. I have read considerable, sir."
"This he said with some pride.
""Have you ever read Shakespeare?"
""In part, sir; but I never could get hold of "Hamlet." I have always wanted to read that play."
"I drew him out, and was astonished at the extent of his information, and the intelligent judgment which he expressed.
""I wonder that, with your acquirements, you should have been content to remain in a state of slavery."
""Content!" he repeated bitterly. "Do you think I have been content?
No, sir. Twice I attempted to escape. Each time I was caught, dragged back, and cruelly whipped. Then I was sold to the father of these little ones. He treated me so well, and I was getting so old, that I gave up the idea of running away."
""And where is he now?"
""He became a colonel in the Confederate service, and was killed at Antietam. Yesterday my mistress died, as I have told you."
""And are you left in sole charge of these little children?"
""Yes, sir."
""Have they no relatives living?"
""Their uncle lives in Kentucky. I shall try to carry them there."
""But you will find it hard work. You have only to cross the river, and in our lines you will be no longer a slave."
""I know it, sir. Three of my children have got their freedom, thank G.o.d, in that way. But I can"t leave these children."
"I looked down at them. They were beautiful children. The youngest was a girl, with small features, dark hair, and black eyes. The boy, of six, was pale and composed, and uttered no murmur. Both clung confidently to the old negro.
"I could not help admiring the old man, who could resist the prospect of freedom, though he had coveted it all his life, in order to remain loyal to his trust. I felt desirous of drawing him out on the subject of the war.
""What do you think of this war?" I asked.
"He lifted up his hand, and in a tone of solemnity, said, "I think it is the cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night, that"s going to draw us out of our bondage into the Promised Land."
"I was struck by his answer.
""Do many of you--I mean of those who have not enjoyed your advantages of education--think so?"
""Yes, sir; we think it is the Lord"s doings, and it is marvelous in our eyes. It"s a time of trial and of tribulation; but it isn"t a-going to last. The children of Israel were forty years in the wilderness, and so it may be with us. The day of deliverance will come."
"At this moment the little girl began again to cry, and he addressed himself to soothe her.
"This was not the only group I encountered. Some women had come, down to the river with children half-bereft of their senses--some apparently supposing that we should rob or murder them. The rebel leaders and newspapers have so persistently reiterated these a.s.sertions, that they have come to believe them.
"The third day was unusually lovely, but our hearts were too anxious to admit of our enjoying it. The rebels were entrenched on heights behind the town. It was necessary that these should be taken, and about noon the movement commenced. Our forces marched steadily across the intervening plain. The rebels reserved their fire till we were half-way across, and then from all sides burst forth the deadly fire. We were completely at their mercy. Twenty men in my own company fell dead or wounded, among them the captain and first lieutenant. Of what followed I can give you little idea. I gave myself up for lost. A desperate impulse enabled me to march on to what seemed certain destruction. All at once I felt a sensation of numbness in my left arm, and looking down, I saw that the blood was trickling from it.
"But I had little time to think of myself. Hearing a smothered groan, I looked round, and saw Frank Grover, pale and reeling.
""I"m shot in the leg," he said. "Don"t leave me here. Help me along, and I will try to keep up with you."
"The poor lad leaned upon me, and we staggered forward. But not for long. A stone wall stared us in the face. Here rebel sharpshooters had been stationed, and they opened a galling fire upon us. We returned it, but what could we do? We were compelled to retire, and did so in good order, but unfortunately not until the sharpshooters had picked off some of our best men.
"Among the victims was the poor lad whom I a.s.sisted. A second bullet struck him in the heart. He uttered just one word, "mother," and fell.
Poor boy, and poor mother! He seemed to have a premonition of his approaching death, and requested me the day previous to take charge of his effects, and send them with his love and a lock of his hair to his mother if anything should befall him. This request I shall at once comply with. I have succeeded in getting the poor fellow"s body brought to camp, where it will be decently buried, and have cut from his head two brown locks, one for his mother, and one for myself.
"At last we got back with ranks fearfully diminished. Many old familiar faces were gone--the faces of those now lying stiff and stark in death.
More were groaning with anguish in the crowded hospital. My own wound was too trifling to require much attention. I shall have to wear a sling for a few days perhaps.
"There is little more to tell. Until Tuesday evening we maintained our position in daily expectation of an attack. But none was made. This was more fortunate for us. I cannot understand what withheld the enemy from an a.s.sault.
"On Tuesday suddenly came the order to re-cross the river. It was a stormy and dreary night, and so, of course, favorable to our purpose.
The maneuver was executed in silence, and with commendable expedition.
The rebels appeared to have no suspicion of General Burnside"s intentions. The measured beat of our double quick was drowned by the fury of the storm, and with minds relieved, though bodies drenched, we once more found ourselves with the river between us and our foes.
Nothing was left behind.
"Here we are again, but not all of us. Many a brave soldier has breathed his last, and lies under the sod. "G.o.d"s ways are dark, but soon or late they touch the shining hills of day." So sings our own Whittier, and so I believe, in spite of the sorrowful disaster which we have met with. It is all for the best if we could but see it.
"Our heavy losses of officers have rendered some new appointments necessary. Our second lieutenant has been made captain. The orderly sergeant and second sergeant are now our lieutenants, and the line of promotion has even reached me. I am a corporal.
"I have been drawn into writing a very long letter, and I must now close, with the promise of writing again very soon. After I have concluded, I must write to poor Frank Grover"s mother. May G.o.d comfort her, for she has lost a boy of whom any mother might feel proud.
"With love to the children, I remain, as ever, your affectionate husband. HENRY FROST."
"How terrible it must have been," said Mrs. Frost, with a shudder, as she folded up the letter and laid it down. "We ought indeed to feel thankful that your father"s life was spared."
"If I were three years older, I might have been in the battle," thought Frank.
CHAPTER XXII. FRANK BROACHES A NEW PLAN
For some time Frank had been revolving in his mind the feasibility of a scheme which he hoped to be able to carry into execution. It was no less than this--to form a military company among the boys, which should be organized and drilled in all respects like those composed of older persons. He did not feel like taking any steps in the matter till he had consulted with some one in whose judgment he had confidence.
One evening he mentioned his plan to Mr. Morton.
"It is a capital idea, Frank," said the young man, with warm approval.
"If I can be of service to you in this matter, it will afford me much pleasure."
"There is one difficulty," suggested Frank. "None of us boys know anything about military tactics, and we shall need instruction to begin with; but where we are to find a teacher I am sure I can"t tell."