And I, reckon perhaps she DID.
One afternoon she was suddenly taken very bad; and, instead of
better, she grew worse and worse, being tied to the bed and
raving; and the captain, who wouldn't hear of her being sent to
hospital, give up his own quarters to her and almost went crazy,
he was that frightened she was dying.
"It's just grit that's kep' her alive," I heard the doctor saying
to him.
"You must save her, Marcus," said the captain, holding to him,
like he was pleading with the doctor for her life. "You must save
her, Marcus. You must do everything in the world you can, Marcus."
The contract surgeon looked mighty glum. "She's like a ship that's
been burning up her fittings for lack of coal," said he. "There
ain't nothing left," he said. "Not a damn thing," said he, and then
he piled in a lot of medical words that seemed to settle the
matter.
As for the captain, he sat down and regularly cried. I'm sorry now
I said anything against the captain, for he was a splendid man,
and the pride of the battery. And, I tell you, he wasn't the only
one that cried neither, for the boys idolised the old lady, and
there wasn't no singing that night or cards or anything. I was on
picket, and it was a heavy heart I took with me into the dark;
and, when they left me laying in the grass, and nobody nearer nor
a hundred yards and that behind me, I felt mortal blue and
lonesome and homesick, and like I didn't care whether I was killed
or not.
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