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.”
“I wish I could stay and help. Especially after all you’ve done for me,” said Gabriel.
“I know you do, Gabriel” said Malinda, smiling, “but you have a calling that’s more important than just being a farm boy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with just being a farm boy,” he said firmly. “I would be honored to stay here and help your father.”
“Oh, you might be happy for a while, but then you would wonder why you didn’t go to Boston. I can see that in your eyes.”
“What do you mean you can see in my eyes? There’s not much there other than a little bit of blue,” responded Gabriel smartly.
“Don’t you know, the eyes are the mirror to a person’s soul?” said Malinda.
“And what exactly do my eyes tell you?” questioned Gabriel in disbelief.
“They don’t speak in words, but I can tell they’re full of ambition and strength. And I know you’ve walked all this way by yourself from New York. You have a vision for your life that’s more than this simple farm can offer.”
Gabriel didn’t have an answer for Malinda, partly because she was right. Something inside him told him his path in life was not to be a farm boy. He didn’t know what exactly that path was, but he knew his job was to find it. He and Malinda walked along in silence, strolling by the small pond that sat close to the barn.
Malinda finally broke the silence as they walked, “Gabriel, I know you have your drum, but where are the drumsticks? I would love to hear you play before you leave.”
“I don’t have any drumsticks.”
“Then how do you play?” asked Malinda.
All of a sudden, Gabriel felt small and embarrassed. He looked at Malinda and confessed. “Actually, I don’t know how to play . . . yet! I don’t know how to play yet. But I will learn.”
“Well, what are you going to do? Mr. Arnold thinks you’re a drummer boy. I imagine he’s expecting you to play and keep beat while his militiamen march to Boston.”
Gabriel stopped walking. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I found the drum in the river, and I thought it the only way I would be allowed to join the militia. But I’ve never played a drum in my life. I don’t have any sticks, and I don’t have anyone to teach
