DRUMMER'S BABY.

Cromwell Argus, Volume 1, Issue 52, 9 November 1870, Page 7

DRUMMER'S BABY.

Bv Thukbsa Tasmania. [From the Australian Journal for October.] CONTINUED. This procedure appeared so curious to both of those whom misfortune had made companions for the time being, that they watched the white . <»biect, floating nearer and nearer, with much ', ~rest. : At length it approached—came within an oar's length, and passed ; and to their utter surprise, they beheld, laid carefully in the middle of a curved piece of wood—part of the bulwarks, no doubt—an infant in long clothes. Its gown was, of course, drenched ; and as it was gently borne along, its feeble wail of discomfort was 1 heard by the two men. " God bless me !" ejaculated the doctor, "it's Drummer's baby!" The infant was wafted safe to shore, and kind hands picked it up, and changed its wet clothes and fed it, before the doctor and Martin arrived at their destination. They had lost sight of the strange man who had preferred the babe before himself, but thought he must be the father. Soon after, a man in the convict dress was discovered insensible on a spar that was washed up, high and dry, on the shore. The doctor recognised him as Henry Fisher, one of the best behaved men on board—a young fellow, with a sevon years sentence for cutting down a young ash to make a stick. Having been already attended to himself, as well as Martin—whom he immediately recommended to the persons gathering round him as his preserver, the doctor proceeded to examine Fisher, who was rather a favourite with him, for the purpose of discovering whether life still lingered in the body. He thought there was still hope ; aud the insensible convict was conveyed to the nearest house, and the best remedies at hand applied. In the course of two hours he came round, nod his first ijiiMtion was, " How many are saved ?" "Well," said the doctor, " there's only eleven turned up yet, besides the baby. That was a ."jugular thing," lie added, to those who were BGaudiug round the bel. " I liavn't the least doubt that poor Drummer saved his child at the expense of his own life, for he hasn't turned up, and i don't suppose he will." •' 1 bag your pardon, sir," said Fisher, touch' ing his forehead, " I'orporal Drummer was knocked on the head in the water while he was trying to put tile child on an oar—l. saw that—aud he went down iustauter ; but afterwards, 1 saw the baby floating about just as I was getting hold of a plank, and 1 put it on. I thought I'd give it a chance for life, and I was some time afore 1 found another to lay hold on ; when 1 I did, 1 got on it, aud don't know anything more,

"Well, but I saw the transaction," answered the doctor, "and so did Martin, and we both concluded it was Drummer. No man would risk his life to save a child if twasn't his own. 1 saw the black head above the water as plainly hs I see yours. "Beg your pardon, sir," observed Fisher, saluting again. "Corporal Drummer's hair was light—sandy, sir—but mine's black. 'Twas me, sir." " A re you certain ? Can you swear it ?" "Yes, sir, indeed. Why should I tell a lie about it ?" The doctor continued to stare at him in surprise, and the gaping people—English and Dutch ; for the prison ship was wrecked off the Cape of Good Hope—looked at the young convict with eyes of admiration, and began audibly to laud his heroic act. " What on earth made you do it, man?" pursued the wondering doctor. "Well, sir, the last thing I see on the ship was the corporal with his motherless babe in his arms—'twas him as undid the bolts and let us out, you know, sir—and then I see him knocked on the head, and I thought, ' Poor fellow, it's all up with you and the little 'un—though I didn't think he had much chance from the first, nor it neither ; and then I see it afterwards floating on, kept up by its long clothes, and heard its pitiful cry, and thought as how my mother died ten years ago, and left a little infant, and it used to cry that way, so pitiful like—'twould move a heart of stone—and it cried itself to death ; and when I thought of it and my mother, buried both in one grave, I Instead of completing the sentence, the pri'eoner turned his face away and covered it. "Well, my good fellow," said the doctor, blowing his nose lustily, " if my influence goes fer anything, you shall have your freedom.'' you, sir—God bless you !" cried FishV.- gratefully, his eyes beaming at the thought. "But I didn't do it for that, sir, believe me !" "I do believe you, my man, and I'll not forget your noble deed, you may depend on it. iNow, my good friends, don't crowd round ; the man wants rest. Dou't kill him with kindness. " And the doctor bustled out, to be met at the door by a good-hearted Englishwoman, who had married a Dutchman after her arrival at the Cape, some years before. She was the person who had taken chargn of the infant, and now pressed forward tipnn his first moment of

leisure to know all about it, and the history of its singular preservation. The doctor was good-natured as well as fussy, aud he stopped to satisfy her inquiries as well as he could, by giving her a highly-coloured account of the simple story Fisher had just related, and which he could in part corroborate himself. " And what's the dear little thing's name ?" asked Mrs Rumpfer, when she had sufficiently exhausted her interjections over the story. " Well, I don't know. What's the use to ask me ? I'm not supposed to know the names of all the youngsters that come aboard the ships I sail in. (Jut—yes I do, to be sure—the father's name was Drummer, so the child's is Drummer, of course." " Drummer ! Thank you, doctor. And the Christian name ?—what's her Christian name ?" " Lord bless me ! Idon'tknow—anything you like ! It's yours now, if you want it, poor little soul. Call him what you like—we used to call him Drummer's Baby." ' " It's a girl, doctor." "Ah ! a girl. Well, I don't care." The doctor was getting out of patience, and endeavoured to bustle past Mrs Kumpfer, but she would not budge an inch to let him by, aud persisted : " Were there many babies born on board, doctor '!" "God bless the woman—no! Wasn't one enough ? 1 thought so, I can tell you, when the woman slipped through my ringers. I didn't like that, I assure you ; though, poor soul, she might as well have gone then as now- she couldn't have weathered the wreck." " Yet the baby did," observed Mrs Rumpfer, thoughtfully gazing into cue child's face. "Ah ! the baby did. Yes, a singular circumstance. Now, my good woruau, I want to see if there are any more." " One moment, doctor. How old is it ?"

" Old 1 Well, how many weeks ago is it? Can't say. My memory's clean gone with the upset of this terrible time." " Is it live weeks old, sir ?" " Hum—may be. Let's see. It was a month old the (.lay we saw the waterspout; that was the 11th August. 1 remember making an entry of the date. Yes, he was a month oltl that day, for Drummer wauted the chaplain to christen him, and we drank his health to enliven the poor fellow's spirits ; and, by the way, 1 stood godfather." " Did you ? Well, now," persisted Mrs Rumpfer, '"you must know her name." •' Was it Jane, sir 1 or Annie? or Alary ? Do tell ine." Thus pressed, the doctor gave himself up to the task of stimulating his sluggish memory, ami pondered. " Was it John?" said he to himself. "As likely as not—it's a common name enough. I believe it is John, my good woman," he added aloud. " But, doctor, it's a girl !" i- Ah ! a girl—yes, to be sure. Well, let's see. What names hail they on board?" and he pondered again. " 1 believe," he pursued, after a pause of deep thought, wrinkling his forehead and rubbing his chin, " the name was Vlaria Jane." " Are you sure, sir?"

" Yes, I'm sure," answered the gentleman, positively, " for by the same token, as the Irish say, I had a crabbed old aunt, who whipped me wheu I was a boy, and taught me the catechism, and promised she'd leave me all her money if I grew up a good man—and she didu't, confound her ! And 1 have to work and «lrown for my living. And her name was Maria Jane. 1 remember being struck with the coincidence when the child was christened, so I'm We. Now, my good woman, allow me." Mrs Rurapfer having gained her point, moved on one side, and the doctor bolted out of the house, and was seen running as fast as his short legs could carry him, his coat-tails Hying in the wind, towards a group surrounding another human creature just cast up by the sea. The number of persons that had drawn the breath of life that morning on board the " Victory "—crew, convicts, soldiers, their wives and children, all told—was two hundred and fifty, and of these fifteen were saved, including Drummer's Baby. The ship's surgeon was as good as his word, and his word was good for a great deal—he petitioned, and urged, and prayed, until he obtained a free pardon for James Martin and Henry Fisher, for saving life during the wreck of the " Victory;" but the pardon did not arrive from England until the twelve prisoners had been drafted on to the colony of New South Wales, where Martin and Fisher still remained after they procured their freedom. The cook's mate and the ship's doctor—the only other men saved from the wreck—disappear at this time from our history, and are heard of no more. Meanwhile Mrs Rumpfer and her husband, having no children, set their affections on Maria Jane Drummer, and brought her up as their own. ( To be concluded in our next,)