Page:The Story of Aunt Becky's Army-Life .djvu/164

128 For four weeks we had a man in hospital, whose skeleton frame seemed ready to drop into the consumptive's grave without a warning. He was not recovering, and the doctor having charge of the ward would not send him away. I thought a change would help him if anything could, and one day learning that the Fifth Corps were to send some of their wounded to Washington that afternoon, I went to the steward and obtained a ticket for one of our men, ordering the nurses to take Brother Jonathan, as we called him, to the boat where the Fifth Corps left, and they did as ordered.

He had been gone only a short time when the doctor came on his round of inspection, and missed the man—wanted to know if he had got well, or died, and as he persisted in his questioning, they were obliged to tell of my share in the transaction—that he had gone off on the transport. "By whose orders?" he thundered sharply.

"Aunt Becky's," was the reply, and he marched away, muttering, "I'll give her the devil."

So, with vengeance in his heart, he came directly to my tent, flushed with anger, and demanded to know what business I had to send men out of his ward, or indeed out of any ward in the Hospital.

I made but little reply—letting the storm rage till its fury was spent—then I said:

"The man was not doing well—he did not belong to you—pieces of men grew together to make Brother Jonathan, and his two eyes haunted me so, I could not help sending him off."