The Drum of Destiny

by Chris Stevenson

  “Oh my!” she gasped. The girl dragged him into the house and shut the door to keep out the wind and the rain. Gabriel was barely conscious now. He tried to speak, but he could not form the words.

  “Constance,” the girl shouted to a smaller girl, “Stoke the fire. We need to warm this boy up.” Out of the corner of his half-open eyes, Gabriel saw a small girl run over to the fire. A few years younger than Gabriel, she had dark black hair that came down to her shoulders. She threw some pieces of wood on the fire and poked it with an iron rod.

  Flames soon began to jump up, and Constance declared, “Malinda, the fire’s going now.” Both girls pulled Gabriel up to a chair that was close to the hearth. Next, they pulled off his coat and took off his shoes. Although Gabriel was grateful, this kind attention did nothing to increase his strength. Malinda, the older of the two girls, placed her hand on his forehead. She, too, had dark black hair, but it flowed down longer than her sister’s. He was able to see her dark eyes and her skin, tanned by the sun. She wore a simple linen dress and appeared to be as tall as Gabriel. “By the grace of the good Lord, this boy is burning up with fever,” Malinda said. “Father won’t be back until dark, but this boy needs help now.”

  “We could go fetch the druggist,” said Constance.

  “Yes, Mr. Arnold. With Doctor Brown gone to Boston, he’ll have to do. He’ll be able to give the boy some medicine,” replied Malinda. “Constance, put your cloak on, and run to Mr. Arnold’s shop. I do hope he is there. You know how he travels about.”

  “Yes. I will run as fast as I can.” Constance pulled on her woolen cloak and ran through the door at full speed.

  Even though Gabriel was seated next to the fire, he was still shivering and too weak to speak. He gazed into the flames of the fire — orange, red, and then blue — then closed his eyes. The flames continued to dance in his mind as he began to dream. Bradford Grimm was now standing before him. Grimm, instead of Malinda and Constance, had opened the door for Gabriel. In place of his faded red jacket, he was now arrayed in the bright red colors of the king’s own soldiers. The fire glinted and gleamed off his uniform’s brass buttons and silver trimmings.

  He picked Gabriel up, shook him, and threw him across the room. Gabriel lay curled on the floor when his parents suddenly appeared through the door. Grimm rushed at them. Gabriel tried to warn his parents, but he could not speak. Grimm knocked his parents down and drew some rope from his jacket. He tied their hands and feet and forced them to stand against a wall. He took his musket from his shoulder and raised it at his parents.

  All Gabriel could see was Grimm’s bayonet, with its shiny glow of sharpened steel gleaming at the end of the musket. Grimm drew it closer and closer to his parents. Then, suddenly, a British ship came bursting through the door, blasting its cannons. The whole room was shaking.

  “Boy, boy . . . BOY! Can you hear me?”

  Gabriel looked up, expecting to see a room filled with cannon smoke but, instead, saw the face of the girl who had let him in. He was able to nod his head once.

  “Constance has returned with Mr. Arnold. He has brought you some medicine.”

  A finely dressed man stood beside Gabriel and looked him over. “Boy, I’m going to need you to drink something. I’ll tell you now, it will not taste good. If you spit it out, I will not give you more. Without this medicine you will remain very ill and may die. Do you understand me?”

  Gabriel nodded slightly.

  “Malinda, do you have any wine for me to mix with the quinine medicine?” asked Mr. Arnold. “I could mix it with water, but it has such a horribly bitter taste that masking it with some wine usually helps it go down.”

  “Yes,” replied Malinda. “I will run to the cellar and fetch some.”

  Malinda returned with a bottle of wine and a cup. Mr. Arnold took the bottle and poured some of the wine into the cup. Then, pulling a small paper envelope from his pocket, Mr. Arnold used his knife to cut a small slit and tapped the envelope three times on the edge of the cup. A fine white powder fell through the slit and into the cup. “A spoon to stir this, please,” Mr. Arnold requested.

  Constance returned with a spoon and, with a few stirs, the mixture was ready. “Help prop his head up, girls. It is very important he drinks all of this.” Mr. Arnold held the cup to Gabriel’s lips. “Remember what I said. Down the hatch, all of it.”

  The quinine and wine slowly dribbled into Gabriel’s mouth. As weak as he was, he immediately felt the urge to spew this bitter drink from his mouth. But he sent the mixture to the back of his throat, trying to keep it from touching his tongue, and swallowed until the whole cup was gone.

  “Well done, my boy, well done,” exclaimed Mr. Arnold. “A tough one, girls. I give good odds he will recover from the fever if he is able to stomach that much quinine without spilling a drop.” Mr. Arnold looked at Malinda and Constance. “Wherever did this boy come from?”

  “We do not know,” responded Malinda. “There was just a knock on the door, and he fell in when I opened it. He had these things with him.” Malinda pointed to Gabriel’s sack and drum, which were placed in the corner.

  Mr. Arnold looked at the drum. “I have my guesses, at least, about where this boy is headed and what he wishes to do when he gets there.”

  At that moment, the door to the house opened. Malinda and Constance ran to the man standing at the door, himself rather wet, and hugged him.

  “Oh, Father, come sit down by the fire. We have so much to tell you.”

  The girls’ father stepped inside and said stiffly, “Why, Mr. Benedict Arnold, I didn’t expect to see you here. Is someone sick?”

  “Well, yes. Young Constance came to the apothecary and said a boy had come by with a horrible fever and you were gone. She needed me to give him some medicine straight away.”

  The girls’ father stepped toward the fire and saw Gabriel in the chair.

  “I gave him some quinine. He is a strong lad. Took it all down. He has been toting a drum around. I do not know this for a fact, but I would guess he is a drummer boy, probably trying to join up with the militia gathering around Boston. He must have walked some distance. He certainly has been out in the cold rain for the past couple of days.”

  “A drummer boy?” questioned the girls’ father. “Well, God bless the lad. We will do our best to help him recover.”

  “I will leave this packet of quinine. Give him two doses a day. The girls saw me mix it. Just do the same as I did, Malinda.”

  Constance and Malinda nodded at Benedict Arnold.

  Their father stepped to the table and laid down three dead rabbits. “Rabbit stew!” exclaimed Constance. “Can Mr. Arnold stay for dinner, Father?”

  Her father looked awkwardly at Constance and then at Arnold, but before he could say anything, Arnold broke the uncomfortable silence. “No, no, thank you, Constance. I have to get back to the store. There is much to get done before my own departure to aid in our fight against the king. I have word from General Israel Putnam that I am to organize our Connecticut men to go to Boston.”

  “Maybe if the boy recovers quickly, you can take him with your Connecticut men,” said Malinda.

  “That may be, but what if your father wants to keep the boy here to help in the fields this spring? Besides, he is a rather handsome-looking chap, don’t you think?” Arnold gave a wink and a smile to Malinda, which made her blush. “I will consider taking him with me. No doubt that I probably have another week’s worth of preparation and will certainly stop by to check in on the lad before I go.”

  With that, Benedict Arnold put on his coat and hat, gave a short bow to the girls, and stepped to the door. “Good evening,” he said as he gently pulled the door shut behind him. The girls’ father turned and looked at them with thoughtful eyes. “There goes a man full of ambition. Ambition which I pray will be used wholeheartedly to fight the redcoats.”

  H 8 H

  HOPE

  Gabriel slowly opened his eyes to a blinding light piercing thro
ugh the room. Where was he? He remembered pulling himself up along the side of the road, stumbling through the rain, and falling down. He could remember no more.

  With his eyes squinting from the brightness, he could tell he was looking out a window with sunshine beaming in through the panes of glass. It was the brightest sunshine he had ever seen, filling the little room where he lay in a small bed covered in thick quilts. He slowly looked around the room. Thick books rested on a bookshelf along one wall. A chair sat next to his bed, with a small wash pan and a towel sitting beside it.

  He heard steps. He looked at the door, his senses still trying to awaken. He certainly did not expect a pretty girl with an angelic smile to walk in holding a cup with steam wafting from the top. For a moment, he faintly recognized her.

  The girl stopped suddenly when she saw that Gabriel’s eyes were open. “Well, I didn’t expect to see you awake,” she said softly. “You have been stirring quite a bit ever since your fever broke. I went to fetch you some hot broth. It will be much easier to get it down you now that you’re awake.” She paused, giving him a moment to respond, but he remained silent. “What’s the matter? Can’t you talk?”

  Gabriel started to say something, but his lips felt like they were glued together. Once he got them separated, his tongue felt like a lead weight in his mouth. He realized that it must have been several days since he had spoken. “Thhhhannk yooouuu,” Gabriel slurred. “Whhhaats yoouuurrr name?”

  “Malinda,” replied the girl.

  “Hhoww lonng have I been here?” asked Gabriel. The words started to come a little easier now.

  “Almost a week. It’s the first of May. I doubt you’ll remember much of it, though. You were very sick. Now, enough of this chitter-chatter. You need to drink this soup before it gets cold. The warmth will help you feel better.”

  He was too weak to argue with Malinda, so he took the cup in his hands, feeling its warmth. Slowly, he touched it to his lips and took a sip. The warm broth filled him from the inside out. He took another sip, and then, feeling his strength being renewed from the nourishment, he drank the rest down in one gulp.

  Malinda looked on in shock. “Well, I guess that hit the spot. I suppose I will excuse your lack of manners in guzzling that soup down like a pig eats its slop. After all, I do expect you are hungry. I think Constance just pulled a loaf of bread from the oven. I will bring you some.”

  “And some more broth . . . please, miss,” requested Gabriel.

  “And some more broth. I am glad you like it.” Malinda smiled.

  As Malinda turned to leave the room, Gabriel felt an overwhelming sense of gratefulness over how this girl had cared for him in his sickness. He has not seen a warm, embracing smile for a long time, let alone from a pretty girl his age.

  Before long, Malinda returned with bread, soup, and another, smaller girl. “You must be Constance,” he said, looking at the girl as she gave a blushing giggle with a dimpled smile from behind Malinda. He took the food and tried as best he could not to devour it as if he were a pig, this time aware both girls were watching him.

  “I have to get my strength back so I can get back on the road. I would like to leave tonight.”

  No sooner had he said those words than he remembered how foolish he had been to leave the innkeeper’s fire and venture out into the pouring rain. He had been impatient, and he knew it. He had almost died from his lack of patience. Yet, here he was again, failing to recognize his weakness. It was ridiculous to think he would somehow be able to return on his journey when he had not moved a muscle in a week.

  Malinda looked at Gabriel. “Well, you have yet to properly introduce yourself by even telling me your name, and now you want to get up and leave. You are free to go anytime you like, taking your ill manners with you. But I suggest you stay here until you are at least strong enough to walk.”

  He appreciated the strength in Malinda’s words and knew she was right. “My name is Gabriel, Gabriel Cooper, and I am traveling from New York to Boston. I will heed your advice and stay here until my strength returns, and I am very grateful for your kindness, hospitality, and all you have done for me.”

  Malinda smiled again and took the empty cup of broth from his hands. “That’s much better, Gabriel Cooper.” Then, turning to her sister, “Constance, will you please go tell Father our mystery guest is named Gabriel Cooper, and he is awake?”

  Constance disappeared and a few minutes later came back through the door with a ruddy, tall man. He sat down next to Gabriel.

  “Well, I am glad to see you’ve made it, son. I had my doubts there for awhile, but we kept giving you Mr. Arnold’s medicine and praying the good Lord would renew your health,” said the man. “My daughter tells me you are called Gabriel Cooper and are from New York. I am Thomas Fleming, and I know you have met my daughters, Malinda and Constance. Now, you may not want me asking all of these questions, but I cannot delay. There may be people wanting to know where you are. Why have you left New York? Are you running away from your parents?”

  Gabriel thought about the question for a moment. Technically he was running away from the Lorings, but the Lorings were not his parents, and so he plainly replied, “No, sir.”

  “The least you can do, after all we have done for you, is to tell us the truth,” said Mr. Fleming softly but sternly. “Young boys such as yourself do not leave home without a reason, son.”

  “I am telling you the truth, sir. I am not running away from my parents. They both died from the pox over a year ago. I do not have any family, so I left New York to join the militia gathering outside of Boston to fight for our freedom. I have a drum and am going to be a drummer boy.” Gabriel had no idea if Mr. Fleming was a Tory or a patriot, but he knew he was about to find out.

  He heard a soft whining sound after he finished. He looked over and saw Constance weeping softly in the corner of the small room.

  “Don’t cry,” said Malinda, patting Constance on the back.

  Gabriel wondered what he said to make the little girl cry. Mr. Fleming bowed his head slightly, almost whispering to Gabriel, “The girls lost their mother . . . my wife . . . from illness about a year ago. I’m sure your mentioning the death of your parents has brought back memories for them both. It’s been very hard on them, especially young Constance. They’ve had to become the women who run the house, instead of just my little girls. There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about their mother, and I know the same is true for them. I cannot imagine what it’d be like if they lost me, too. My heart goes out to you, Master Gabriel. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Sir, you have already saved my life, and for that I owe you much more than can ever be paid,” replied Gabriel.

  “I can’t say I had much of a hand in it. It was my girls, Mr. Benedict Arnold, and God’s handiwork that saved you, son.”

  Just then, a knock came at the front door, and Mr. Fleming rose from Gabriel’s side to answer it. Mr. Fleming returned with a man neatly dressed in a blue uniform, wearing shiny black boots and a cocked hat. The man removed his hat from his head and gave a slight bow to Malinda and Constance. “Ladies,” he said in a soft but deep voice, “I see you have cared well for our patriot patient. You must have followed my directions extremely well,” said Mr. Arnold as he sat down next to Gabriel. “And how are you, young master drummer boy who is headed to Boston?”

  Gabriel was in awe of the man’s spotless appearance. He thought for a moment about how this man knew he had a drum and was headed to Boston, but before he could speak, Mr. Fleming said, “Captain Benedict Arnold is the druggist who brought over the quinine to bring down your fever. He’s a merchant here in New Haven and has been all over the world sailing his ships. Now he is rounding up Connecticut men to go to Boston.”

  Gabriel’s heart jumped at this news. An officer whose taking men to Boston . . . “Can I go with you to Boston, sir?” He started to move out of the bed, looking directly into Captain Arnold’s eyes.

  “Now, now
,” replied Captain Arnold, “I would say that you’re in no condition to travel to Boston at the moment, but I’m not leaving right away. I will check back the day before I go and see if you’re up to traveling. That means you better listen to what Misses Malinda and Constance tell you and get plenty of rest.”

  “I will, sir. Yes sir. Don’t worry, I will be better by then, sir, I know I will,” Gabriel was speaking distinctly now, excited, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him. It seemed a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The thought of being back out on the road again by himself seemed almost more than he could bear. But if he could travel beside men who had guns to hunt game, fires to sit by at night, and maybe even a tent to sleep under, there was hope. No matter what, he had to regain his strength. He would be ready to go with Captain Arnold to Boston.

  H 9 H

  THE TURN NORTH

  Captain Arnold left Gabriel in the best spirits he had been in since he left New York. Mr. Fleming cleaned and repaired his drum with new rope and a new calfskin head. He made a leather sling that fit him, too. Malinda and Constance continued to care for Gabriel, who had started taking walks outside to regain his strength. On the fifth day since his fever had broken, he got up from his bed and stepped outside. This day, he knew, might be his last with the Flemings. The word in town was Benedict Arnold was getting ready to leave for Boston. He took a deep breath of fresh air and felt more alive than he had ever felt. He even asked Mr. Fleming if he could help him split wood, but Mr. Fleming told him he needed to rest.

  Gabriel spent that afternoon walking about the small Fleming farm, just on the edge of New Haven, Connecticut, with Malinda as his guide. The farm had a cow, some chickens, and, of course, a large field that had recently been plowed. “We’ll be doing our spring planting soon,” said Malinda. “Father likes to wait until later to plant corn, but we’ve already planted potatoes and beans.”