Who Goes There?. B. K. Benson
"Oh," said the Doctor, with his rare and peculiar smile, "maybe we can take you with us; you would only be going ahead of your regiment."
Lydia's face was still inflexible, her eyes on the fire. I wished for a chance to bring Willis's name to the front, but saw none.
"I don't see how that could be done, Doctor; I confess that I should like very much, to go with you, but how can I get leave of absence?"
"Where there is a will there is a way."
"Yes, but I have no will; I have only a desire," said I, gloomily.
"Well," said the Doctor, "I have will enough for both of us and to spare."
"You mean to say that you can get me leave of absence?"
"Wait and see. When the time comes, there will be no trouble, unless things change very greatly meanwhile."
I bade my friends good night and went back to my hut. The weather was mild. My way was over hills and hollows, making me walk somewhat carefully; but I did not walk carefully enough--I stumbled and fell, and bruised my back.
The next day I was on camp guard. The weather was intensely cold. A bitter wind from the north swept the Maryland hills; snow and rain and sleet fell, all together. For two hours, alternating with four hours' relief, I paced my beat back and forth; at six o'clock, when I was finally relieved, I was wet to the skin. When I reached my quarters, I went to bed at once and fell into a half sleep.
Some time in the forenoon I found Dr. Khayme bending over me, with his hand on my temples.
"You have had too much of it," said he.
I looked up at him and tried to speak, but said nothing. Great pain followed every breath. My back seemed on fire.
The Doctor wanted to remove me to his own hospital tent, but dreaded that I was too ill. Yet there was no privacy, the hut being occupied by four men. Dr. Khayme found means to get rid of all my messmates except Willis; they were crowded into other quarters. The surgeon of the Eleventh had given the Doctor free course.
For two weeks Willis nursed me faithfully. Dr. Khayme came every day--on some days several times. Lydia never came.
One bright day, near the end of February, I was placed in a litter and borne by four men to the Doctor's hospital tent. My father came. This was the first time he and Dr. Khayme met. They became greatly attached.
My progress toward health, was now rapid. Willis was with me whenever he was not on duty. The Doctor's remedies gave way to simple care, in which Lydia was the chief priest. Lydia would read to me at times--but for short times, as the Doctor forbade my prolonged attention, I was not quite sure that Lydia was doing me good; I liked the sound of her voice, yet when she would cease reading I felt more nervous than before, and I could not remember what she had read. So far as I could see, there was no understanding between Lydia and Willis; yet it was very seldom that I saw them together.
One evening, after the lamps were lighted, my father told us that he would return home on the next day. "Jones is in good hands," said he, "and my business demands my care; I shall always have you in remembrance, Doctor; you have saved my boy."
The Doctor said nothing. I was sitting up in bed, propped with pillows and blankets.
"The Doctor has always been kind to me, Father," said I; "ever since he received the letter you wrote him in Charleston, he has been my best friend."
"The letter I wrote him? I don't remember having written him a letter," said my father.
"You have forgotten, Father," said I; "you wrote him a letter in which you told him that you were sure he could help me. The Doctor gave me the letter; I have it at home, somewhere."
The Doctor was silent, and the subject was not continued.
Conversation began again, this time concerning the movements and battles in the West. The Doctor said; "Jones, the news has been kept from you. On February 6, General Grant captured Fort Henry, which success led ten days later to the surrender of Buckner's army at Fort Donelson."
"The 6th of February, you say?" I almost cried; "that was the last time I saw you before I got sick; on that very day you talked about Grant's coming successes!"
"It did not need any great foresight for that," said the Doctor.
"You said that Grant had the navy to help him, and that he certainly would not fail."
"And it was the navy that took Fort Henry," said my father.
On the day following that on which my father left us, I was sitting in a folding chair, trying to read for the first time since my illness began.
Dr. Khayme entered, with a paper in his hand. "We'll go, my boy," said he; "we'll go at once and avoid the crowd."
"Go where, Doctor?"
"To Fort Monroe," said he.
"Go to Fortress Monroe, and avoid the crowd?"
"Yes, we'll go."
"What are we going there for?"
"Don't you remember that I thought of going there?"
"When was it that you told me, Doctor?"
"On the night before you became ill. I told you that if General McClellan could have his way, he would transfer the army to Fort Monroe, and advance on Richmond by the Peninsular route."
"Yes, I begin to remember."
"Well, President Lincoln has yielded to General McClellan's urgent arguments; the movement will be begun as soon as transportation can be provided for such an operation; it will take weeks yet."
"And you are going to move down there?"
"Yes, before the army moves; this is your written authority to go with me; don't you want to go?"
"Yes; that I do," said I.
"The spring is earlier down there by at least two weeks," said the Doctor; "the change will mean much to you; you will be ready for duty by the time your regiment comes."
Lydia was not in the tent while this conversation was going on, but she came in soon afterward, and I was glad to see that she was certainly pleased with the prospect of moving. Her eyes were brighter. She began at once to get together some loose things, although we had several days in which to make our preparations. I could not keep from laughing at her; at the same time I felt that my amusement was caused by her willingness to get away for a time from the army, rather than by anything else.
"So you are in a hurry to get away," I said.
"I shall be glad to get down there," she replied, "and I have the habit of getting ready gradually when we move. It saves worry and fluster when the time comes." Her face was very bright.
"That is the longest speech you have made to me in a week," said I.
She turned and looked full at me; then her expression changed to severity, and she went out.
That night Willis came; before he saw me he had learned that we were to go; he was very blank.
The 6th of March found us in camp in the Doctor's tents pitched near Newport News. The weather was mild; the voyage had helped me. I sat outside in the sunshine, enjoying the south wind. With the help of the Doctor's arm or of Lydia's--given, I feared, somewhat unwillingly--I walked a little. These were happy days; I had nothing to do but to convalesce. The Southern climate has always helped me. I was recovering fast.
I liked the Doctor more than ever, if possible. Every day we talked of everything, but especially of philosophy, interesting to both of us, though of course I could not pretend to keep pace with, his advanced thought. We talked of the war, its causes, its probable results.
"Jones, it matters not how this war shall end; the Union will be preserved."
I had never before heard