The Little Drum by the Delaware

Starring George Washington

On a bitter Christmas night, a frightened young drummer boy named Elias reaches the icy Delaware River and joins George Washington and the Continental soldiers. Elias tries twice to prove he is brave, first with a loud drumbeat and then with a clumsy effort at rowing, and both mistakes bring trouble. When he finally admits his fear, he finds a quieter kind of courage and uses his damp drum in an unexpected way to help the soldiers cross the dark river together. The story shows that fear does not have to leave before courage can begin walking.

Christmas night bit at Elias's ears and nose. He stood by the Delaware River with Elias's drum pressed to his coat, listening to ice clink against the shore like spoons in a pail. Ahead of him, soldiers hauled boats over crusted snow, and one tall man in a dark cloak moved among them without hurrying.

The tall man stopped beside him. "You are far from any warm bed," George Washington said. Elias swallowed and answered, "Elias, sir. I can beat the drum fine on dry ground, but on this black water my knees go click-click."

When the first boat scraped toward the river, Elias thought, A bold beat will make me bold too. He lifted his sticks and struck a marching roll. The sound cracked over the ice so sharply that two soldiers jerked around, and one nearly dropped his end of the boat.

George crossed the snow in three long steps and laid his gloved hand on the drumhead until it went still. He did not raise his voice. Elias's face burned hotter than the camp coals, and he stared at his boots while the soldiers shifted the boat back into place.

Elias would not make that mistake again. When he climbed into the boat, he grabbed an oar and whispered, "I can pull hard, sir. Watch me." But the first slab of ice bumped the hull, and Elias flinched so hard his oar slapped sideways, splashing bitter river water over the drum and into the boat.

Water sloshed around their boots. Elias shoved his cap into the puddle and began scooping as fast as he could. No one told him to do it. The soldiers passed the water out with hats and hands, and soon the bottom boards showed again beneath their knees.

Fog slid over the river and muffled even the creak of wood. Elias hugged his wet drum and said, very small, "Sir, I thought brave meant your knees stop clicking." George looked ahead into the dark and answered, "No. Brave means you still take your place."

Elias listened. Ice tapped the hull. Oars whispered. Men breathed in little white clouds. He laid his fingertips on the damp drumhead and made a sound no bigger than a heartbeat, tap, tap, tap, so the rowers could pull together without a shout.

The boat slid through the dark as if the river itself had learned the beat. One pull, then another. Ice bumped away from the bow, and the soldiers reached the far bank with boots, oars, and hope still in their hands.

On the far shore, Elias stepped onto the snow with knees still clicking under his coat. This time he smiled at the sound. He gave the drum one soft tap, and a line of soldiers moved after it across the white ground.