Tom was. .h.i.t in the side by one of the pistol bullets. As I have not the surgeon's report of the case, I cannot give a minute description of it; but he comforted Hapgood and the captain with the a.s.surance that, though severe, it was not a dangerous wound.

"Tom Somers, there's a sergeant's warrant in Company K for one of you three men," said Captain Benson, when the patient was comfortably settled upon his camp bed. "The colonel told me to give him the name of the most deserving man in my company."

"Give it to Tom," said Hapgood, promptly. "He led off in this matter, and ef't hadn't been for him, we should all have been on t'other side of the river, and p'raps on t'other side of Jordan, afore this time. And then, to think that the poor fellow stood by, and handled the boat like a commodore, when the life-blood was runnin' out of him all the time! It belongs to Tom."

"Give it to Tom," added Fred, who lay near the patient.

"No, Captain Benson," interposed Tom, faintly. "Hapgood is an old soldier, and deserves it more than I do. Give it to him, and I shall be better satisfied than if you give it to me."

"Tom Somers!" exclaimed old Hapgood, a flood of tears sliding down his furrowed cheeks, "I won't stand nothin' of the sort! I'd jump into the river and drownd myself before I'd take it, after what you've done."

"You are both worthy of it," added Captain Benson.

"Please give it to Hapgood," pleaded Tom. "He first proposed going out after the little schooner."

"Give it to Tom, cap'n. It'll help heal his wound," said Hapgood.

"No; it would do me more good to have you receive it," protested Tom.

"Well, here, I can't have this battle fought in the hospital," interposed the surgeon. "They are good friends, captain, and whichever one you give it to, the other will be suited. You had better settle the case at head-quarters."

"If you please, Captain Benson, I would like to have Hapgood stay with me to-night, if he can be spared."

The veteran was promptly detailed for hospital duty, and the captain returned to his quarters to decide the momentous question in regard to the sergeant's warrant.

CHAPTER XXVI.

TOM IS SENTIMENTAL.

The little schooner which the picket guard had captured was loaded with valuable supplies for the rebels, which of course were confiscated without ceremony. The mail bag which was on board contained a great many letters from traitors in Baltimore, some of whom were exposed by the capture of their treasonable correspondence.

Tom's wound proved to be more serious than even the surgeon had antic.i.p.ated; but the best care which it was possible to give in a military hospital was bestowed upon him. Old Hapgood, in recognition of his services on that eventful night, was permitted to be near the patient as much as the interests of the service would permit; and the old man was happy when seated by the rude couch of the soldier boy, ministering to his necessities, or cheering him with bright hopes of the future. A strong friendship had grown up between them, for Tom's kind heart and brave conduct produced a deep impression upon the old man.

"Here, Tom," said Captain Benson, as he approached the sufferer, a few days after he entered the hospital, and laid a paper upon the bed. "Here's a prescription which the colonel says you must take."

"What is it?" asked Tom, with a faint smile.

"A sergeant's warrant."

"Glory, glory, hallelujah, as we go marching on!" exclaimed old Hapgood, jumping up like a youth of sixteen, and swinging his cap above his head.

"Shut up, there!" shouted the hospital steward. "Don't you know any better than to make such a racket in this place?"

"I beg pardon, Jameson. I forgot where I was," apologized the veteran.

"The news was so good I couldn't help it. Our Tom is a sergeant now!"

"Not yet, Hapgood," replied Tom, feebly. "I can't accept it, Captain Benson; it belongs to Hapgood, sir, and I shall feel a great deal better if you put his name in place of mine."

"Don't do it, cap'n!" interposed the old man, vehemently. "Tom shall be a brigadier general if the war lasts one year more. I should feel like a whipped kitten if that warrant was altered."

"The matter has been fully and fairly considered at head-quarters, and there is no such thing as altering the decision now; so, Tom, you can put the stripes on your arm just as soon as you please."

Hapgood insisted, the surgeon insisted, and the captain insisted; and Tom was too sick to hold way with them in an argument, and his name was placed upon the roster of the company as a sergeant. He was proud of the distinction which had been conferred upon him, though he thought Hapgood, as an older and abler soldier, was better ent.i.tled to the honor than himself.

It was six weeks before Tom was able to enter upon the actual enjoyment of the well-merited promotion which he had won by his gallantry; but when he appeared before the company with the chevron of the sergeant upon his arm, he was l.u.s.tily cheered by his comrades, and it was evident that the appointment was a very popular one. Not even the grumblers, of whom there is a full quota in every regiment, deemed it prudent to growl at the decision of the officers. If any one ventured to suggest that he was too young to be placed over older and stronger men, his friends replied, that men in the army were measured by bravery and skill, not by years.

If my young readers wish to know why Tom's appointment was so well received by his companions in arms, I can only reply, that he had not only been brave and cheerful in the midst of peril and hardship, but he was kind and obliging to his comrades. He had always been willing to help those that needed help, to sympathize with those in trouble, and generally to do all he could to render those around him happy.

Above all these considerations, Tom was a young man of high principle. He had obeyed his mother's parting injunction, often repeated in the letters which came to him from home, and had faithfully "read his Testament."

Without being a hypocrite or a canting saint, Tom carried about with him the true elements of Christian character.

Tom had fought a greater battle than that in which he had been engaged at Bull Run a hundred times, in resisting the temptations which beset him from within and without. True to G.o.d and true to himself, he had won the victory. Though his lot was cast in the midst of men who swore, gambled, and drank liquor, he had shunned these vices, and loved the sinner while he hated the sin. Such a person could not fail to win the respect of his companions. Though he had been jeered at and insulted for being sober, honest, and pious, he had fought down and lived down all these vilifiers, and won their esteem.

It must be acknowledged that Tom's piety was of the robust type. He would not allow any man to insult him; and after the chastis.e.m.e.nt he had given Ben Lethbridge, not even those who were strong enough to whip him were disposed to trespa.s.s upon his rights and dignity. Perhaps Tom's creed needed a little revising; but he lived under martial law, which does not take cognizance of insults and revilings. He was willing to be smitten on the one cheek, and on the other also, for the good of his country, or even his friends, but not to be wantonly insulted.

The influence of Tom's principles was not confined to himself, for "a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump." This was particularly true of Hapgood, who, more through Tom's preaching and practice than from any strength in his own character, had steadily maintained his purpose to abstain from intoxicating drinks, though occasional opportunities were presented for the indulgence of his darling vice. Tom and he read the Testament and other good books which were sent to the regiment, and both profited by them.

When the soldier boy was discharged from the hospital, the surgeon gave him a pair of woolen socks, from a case of them which had been sent by the friends of the soldier in Boston and its vicinity. He was very much in need of them, and from the depths of his heart he blessed the ladies who had done this good work. He unrolled the socks, and proceeded to pull one of them on. It was as good a fit as though his mother had knit it on purpose for him.

"G.o.d bless the lady that knit these socks!" exclaimed Tom, as he began to draw on the other.

"Amen!" replied Hapgood, who was watching the operation in full sympathy with his protege.

"Eh! what's this?" added Tom, for his foot had met with an obstruction in its pa.s.sage down the leg.

He pulled off the sock, and thrusting his hand into it, took therefrom a letter enclosed in an envelope.

"See that, uncle?" said he, exhibiting the prize.

"What is it, Tom? Open it quick," replied Hapgood.

The soldier boy broke the envelope, and took from it a note enclosing a photograph. Tom looked at the picture with a feeling of pleasure, which would have caused the original of the miniature, the author of the note, and the author of the socks, to blush up to her eyes if she had beheld the expression of admiration which glowed upon the handsome, manly face of the young sergeant.

"By all that's lovely, isn't she a beauty!" exclaimed Tom, rapturously, as he glanced from the picture to Hapgood, who was looking over his shoulder.

"She's hahnsome, and no mistake," replied the veteran, with a grim smile.

"Well, she is!" added Tom, whose eyes were riveted to the photograph.

"Well, why don't you read the letter, Tom?" demanded the old soldier, after the young man had gazed with blushing cheek upon the sweet face of the author of his socks for full five minutes.

"I guess I will," said Tom; but he did not; for the picture seemed to be glory and beauty enough to satisfy him for the present.

"Read the letter, Tom!" shouted the veteran, after he had waited as long as the nature of the case seemed to require.