United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
Frank started, almost like a guilty person, and gave the military salute
rather awkwardly as he got upon his feet. He had been secretly dreading
Captain Edney's displeasure, and now he thought he was to be called to an
account.
"I have something for you in my room," said the officer, with a look of
serious reserve, unlike the cheerful, open, brotherly glance with which
he formerly regarded the drummer boy.
Frank accompanied him, wondering what that something was. A reproof for
his drunkenness, or for gambling away the watch, he expected more than
any thing else; and his heart was heavy by the way.
"Did you know a mail came on board to-day?" said the captain, as they
entered his stateroom.
Frank remembered hearing Atwater say he had that day got a letter from
his wife. But his mind had been too much agitated by other things to
consider the subject then.
"No, sir, I didn't know it."
"How happens that? You are generally one of the most eager to receive
letters."
Frank hung his head. What answer could he make? That he was intoxicated
in his berth when the mail arrived? A sweat of shame covered him. He was
silent.
"Well, well, my boy!"--Captain Edney patted him gently on the
shoulder,--"you are forgiven this time. I am sure you did not mean to
get drunk."
"O, sir!" began Frank, but stopped there, over whelmed by the captain's
kindness.
"I know all about it," said Captain Edney. "Tucket assures me that he and
the rest were more to blame than you. But, for the sake of your friends,
Frank, take warning by this experience, and never be betrayed into any
thing of the kind again. I trust you. And here, my boy, are your
letters."
He put half a dozen into Frank's hands. And Frank, as he took them, felt
his very heart melt within him with gratitude and contrition. He was not
thinking so much of the letters as of Captain Edney and his watch.
"Forgive me; forgive me!" he humbly entreated.
"I do, freely, as I told you," said the captain.
"But--the watch you gave me!"
"Dear boy!"--the captain put his arm kindly about him,--"haven't I always
told you I knew nothing about the watch? I did not give it to you, nor do
I know what generous friend did."
"It is true, then?" Frank looked up with a half-glad, half-disappointed
expression. He was disappointed to know that so good a friend was not
the donor of the watch, and yet glad that he had not wronged _him_ by
gambling it away. "Then, Captain Edney, I wish you would tell me what to
do. I have done the worst and meanest thing. I have lost the watch."
And he went on to relate how he had lost it. Captain Edney heard him with
deep concern. He had all along felt a sense of responsibility for the boy
Mrs. Manly had intrusted to him, as well as a genuine affection for him;
he had therefore double cause to be pained by this unexpected
development.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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