Here some poor fellow,--poor indeed,--delirious with fever, called out,
"Mother! mother! I want to see my mother!"
Tears rushed to the clear, steady eyes, dimmed them, dropped down
unchecked upon the face. The nurse, with a sob choking in his throat,
softly raised his hand to brush them away. "Mother," Bertie
whispered,--"mother!" and was gone where God wipes away the tears from
all eyes.
For the space of five minutes, as Jim said afterwards, in telling about
it, "that boat was like a meeting-house." Used as they were to death in
all forms, more than one brave fellow's eye was dim as the silent shape
was carried away to make place for the stricken living,--one of whom was
directly brought in, and the stretcher put down near Jim.
"What's up?" he called, for the man's face was turned from him, and his
wounded body so covered as to give no clew to its condition. "What's
wrong?" seeing the bearers did not offer to lift him, and that they were
anxiously scanning the long rows of berths.
"Berth's wrong," one of them answered.
"What's the matter with the berth?"
"Matter enough! not a middle one nor a lower one empty."
"Well," called a wounded boy from the third tier, "plenty of room up
here; sky-parlor,--airy lodgings,--all fine,--I see a lot of empty
houses that'll take him in."
"Like enough,--but he's about blown to pieces," said the bearer in a low
voice, "and it'll be aw--ful putting him up there; however,"--commencing
to take off the light cover.
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