CHAPTER VIII.
A NOISE AT THE WINDOW.
Mrs. Gray's countenance grew white with alarm. She flew down the steps,and throwing both her arms about her son's neck, hid her face on hisshoulder and sobbed violently. Marcy put his uninjured arm around her,and his mother leaned so heavily upon it that the boy thought she wasgoing to faint.
"Now see what you have done, you black rascal, by wagging your tongue sofreely," said Marcy angrily. "I've the best notion in the world to haveyou sent to the field."
"But, moster," protested the frightened coachman, "de Yankees didshoot----"
"Hold your tongue! If you lisp another word I will have you sent to theoverseer as sure as you are a living darkey. Now take those things outof the carriage and put them in my room; and when you have done that, gooff somewhere and spend an hour or two every day telling the truth, sothat you will get used to it. Come into the house," he added gently,leading his mother up the steps, "and I will tell you all about it. Iwasn't shot. I was struck by a splinter."
"Oh, Marcy," sobbed Mrs. Gray, "your face tells a different story. Youhave suffered--you are suffering now; and there isn't a particle ofcolor in your cheeks. Don't try to deceive me, for I must know the worstsooner or later."
"I am not trying to deceive you," answered Marcy, although he _was_trying to break the disagreeable news as gently as he could. "I wasknocked down by a splinter and my arm was broken."
"There now," began his mother.
"But it's all right," Marcy hastened to add. "Beardsley set the bone inless than three hours after it was broken, and the surgeon I consultedin Newbern said he made a good job of it. I don't know what you thinkabout it, but I am not sorry it happened."
"Oh, Marcy! why do you say that?"
"Because it gave me a chance to come home. To tell you the truth,blockade running is getting to be a dangerous business. We had fournarrow escapes this trip. Beardsley's impudence and a Union captain'ssimplicity brought us out of the first scrape, a storm came to our aidin the second, sheer good luck and a favoring breeze saved us in thethird, and a shot from the second mate's revolver brought us out of thefourth. We are liable to fall into the hands of the cruisers any day;and suppose I had been captured and thrown into a Northern prison! Youmight not have seen me again for a year or two; perhaps longer. Bringthose bundles in here and take the valise upstairs," he added to thecoachman, who just then passed along the hall with Marcy's luggage inhis hands. "Open that bundle, mother. You need not be ashamed to wearthose dresses, for they were bought in Nassau with honest money--moneythat I earned by doing duty as a foremast hand. I didn't pay any duty onthem because no one asked me for it. And in fact I don't know whetherthere is a custom-house in Newbern or not. The box in the other bundlecontains nothing but bottles of quinine."
"What induced you to get so much?" asked Mrs. Gray, who had wiped awayher tears and was trying to look cheerful again.
"Captain Beardsley first called my attention to the fact that medicinehad gone up in price, and I saw by a paper I got in Nassau that therebels are already smuggling quinine across the Potomac," answeredMarcy. "There's a good deal of ague about here, and we'd be in a prettyfix if we should all get down with it, and no medicine in the house tohelp us out." Here he got up and drew his chair closer to his mother'sside, adding in a whisper, "I've twenty-one hundred dollars in gold inmy valise, lacking what I paid for my railroad ticket, and nearly fourhundred dollars of it belongs to me. The rest belongs to the captain ofthe _Hollins._"
"Do you still cling to the hope that you will some day meet him again?"asked his mother.
"I know it will be like hunting for a needle in a haystack, but if Idon't find him I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that I tried to,and that I haven't spent any of his money. I'll keep it locked in mytrunk until my arm gets so that I can handle a spade, and then I'll hideit in one of the flower beds. Now, how is everything about home? HasKelsey shown his ugly face here since I went away, or have you heardanything from those 'secret enemies' that Wat Gifford spoke of? How hasHanson behaved himself?"
Mrs. Gray's report was so satisfactory that Marcy was put quite at hisease. She had had nothing to worry over, she told him, except, ofcourse, his absence and Jack's, and if she had not received so manywarnings she would not have suspected that there were such things assecret enemies around her. But she had relaxed none of her vigilance,and was always on her guard when any of the neighbors came to see her.It was a dreadful way to live, but there was no help for it.
By the time Marcy had removed some of the stains of travel from his faceand clothing, supper was announced; and as he had to talk aboutsomething during the meal, he entertained his mother with a minutedescription of the exciting incidents that happened during the_Hattie's_ homeward run. He could talk of these things in his ordinarytone of voice, and he did not care who overheard him. More than that, hewas satisfied that every word he uttered in the presence of the girl whowaited at table would go straight to Hanson's ears, and he was reallytalking for Hanson's benefit. He retired at an early hour, after his armhad been bathed and bandaged again (his mother could not keep back hertears when she saw how inflamed and angry it looked), and left his lampburning, as he had done every night since his friend Gifford droppedthat hint about a visit from an organized band of 'longshoremen. Beforehe got into bed he unlocked his valise and took from it two things thathis mother knew nothing about,--a brace of heavy revolvers,--which heplaced where he could get his hands upon them at a moment's warning."Thank goodness the old flag is above me once more, and not thatsecession rag that Beardsley seems to be so proud of," thought Marcy, ashe pounded his pillow into shape and drew the quilts over his shoulders."If Colonel Shelby and the rest knew that there are two Union flagssomewhere among these bedclothes, how long do you suppose this housewould stand? If those men are such good rebels, I can't for the life ofme understand why they don't go into the service, instead of staying athome and making trouble for their neighbors. I should think they wouldbe ashamed of themselves."
There were plenty of such men all over the South, and Marcy Gray was notthe only one who wondered why they did not hasten to the front, seeingthat they were so very hostile to the Yankees and their sympathizers,and professed so much zeal for the cause of Southern independence. Hiscousin Rodney often asked himself the same question while Dick Grahamwas staying at his father's house, waiting for a chance to get acrossthe Mississippi River. Tom Randolph, who could not forget that CaptainHubbard's Rangers had refused to give him the office he wanted, wasRodney's evil genius. Although Tom became in time commander of a smallcompany of Home Guards, he could be for the old flag or against it, ascircumstances seemed to require. When the Union forces took possessionof Baton Rouge and the gunboats anchored in front of the city, Randolphsent more than one squad of Yankee cavalry to search Mr. Gray's housefor firearms, and took measures to keep Rodney, Dick Graham, and theother discharged Confederates in constant trouble; but when GeneralBreckenridge and his army appeared, and it began to look as though therebels were about to drive the Union forces out and take possession ofBaton Rouge and the surrounding country, Tom Randolph gave his scoutsthe names of all the Union men in Mooreville and vicinity, and of coursethey did not escape persecution. But Tom, sly as he was, could not playa double part forever. His sin found him out and his punishment cameclose upon the heels of it. We shall tell all about it in its properplace.
Having no watch to stand on this particular night, and having no fear ofcapture by cruisers or a fight with armed steam launches, Marcy soonfell asleep, to be awakened about midnight by a sound that sent the coldchills all over him. He could not have told just what it was, but allthe same it frightened him. He sat up in bed and pulled one of hisrevolvers from under his pillow. He listened intently, and in a fewseconds the sound was repeated. Then he knew that it was made by apebble which some one in the yard below had tossed against his window.It was a signal of some sort, but who made it, a
nd why should thevisitor, whoever he might be, seek to arouse him without disturbing hismother?
"By gracious!" thought Marcy, resting his revolver on his knee with themuzzle turned toward the window, as if he half expected to see some onetry to force an entrance there. "What can it mean! It may be a dangerouspiece of business to draw the curtain and open that window, for how do Iknow but that there's somebody below waiting for a chance to pop meover? How do I know but those 'longshoremen have come up----"
When this thought passed through the boy's mind his fear gave place toindignation; and hesitating no longer he threw off the bedclothes andadvanced toward the window, just as another pebble rattled against it.He dashed the curtain aside, threw up the sash, and thrust his head andhis revolver out of the window. The night was so dark that he could notsee a thing except the dark sky and the darker shadows of the treesagainst it.
"Who's there?" he demanded. "Speak quick."
"The despot's heel is on thy shore; His torch is at thy temple door. Avenge the patriotic gore That flecks the streets of Baltimore And be the battle queen of yore-- Maryland! my Maryland!"
That was the answer he received to his challenge. It was given in avoice that he had never heard before, and Marcy was so utterly amazedthat he could not interrupt the speaker, or say a word himself when theverse was concluded. It was part of a rebel song that had recentlybecome very popular in Baltimore, but it had not yet reached NorthCarolina. For only an instant, however, did Marcy stand motionless andspeechless, and then he pointed his weapon in the direction from whichthe voice sounded, saying in steady tones:
"If you don't give me an answer that I can understand, I'll cut loose.Who are you?"
"I am a homeless, friendless smuggler," replied the voice; and at thesame instant a familiar bark, followed by an impatient whine, told theastonished Marcy that his faithful watchman, Bose, was under the windowwith the stranger. The unexpected discovery made every nerve in his bodytingle with excitement, and his next words were uttered in a husky andindistinct tone.
"Jack!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Jack! Is that you?"
"It's I," answered the visitor, speaking in his natural voice this time."I'm here safe and sound, and none the worse for having been a prisonerin the hands of that pirate, Captain Semmes."
"Go round to the front door and I will be right down," said Marcy, insuppressed tones. He could not imagine why his brother should make hispresence known in this guarded way instead of boldly demandingadmittance at the door, but he knew that there was some reason for itand conducted himself accordingly. He moved about his room very quietlywhile he dressed himself as well as he could with only one hand to workwith, and then he caught up the lamp, hurried downstairs and made hisway to his mother's room. His low tap met with an instant response.
"Oh, mother," exclaimed Marcy, "Jack's come home, and he's Union."
"Of course he is for the Union," answered Mrs. Gray calmly, although shewas almost as highly excited as Marcy was. "I have never thought of himas being a rebel."
"The rebels had him prisoner," added Marcy; and with this bit of news toadd to his mother's excitement, the boy ran to the front door. Themoment he opened it a stalwart young fellow sprang upon the thresholdwith his arms spread out; but he stopped suddenly when his eyes fellupon Marcy's white face and upon the sling in which he carried his lefthand.
"What's happened to you?" he demanded, as soon as he could speak.
"I got that while helping Captain Beardsley run a cargo of contrabandgoods through Crooked Inlet," replied Marcy, laughing at the expressionof surprise and disgust that came upon the young sailor's bronzed faceas he listened to the words. "First I was a privateer and now I am ablockade-runner."
"There must be some good reason for it, because I know as well as you dothat you do not belong on that side of the house," said the returnedwanderer, closing and locking the door after beckoning to Bose, who wasnever permitted to enter the house except upon extraordinary occasions."I had a fine chance to become a rebel pirate. When the prize-master whowas put aboard of us after we were captured, found that I was from aseceded State, he promised if I would ship on the _Sumter_ to askCaptain Semmes----"
Just at this point the young sailor looked over his brother's shoulderand saw his mother coming along the hall. A second later he held herclasped in his arms. She looked very small and frail while standingbeside that tall, broad-shouldered son, who was as fine a specimen of anAmerican sailor as could be found anywhere outside of New England.Although he was but three years older than Marcy, who was by no means apuny fellow, he stood head and shoulders above him, and was built like ayoung Hercules. It was little wonder that Mrs. Gray and Marcy hadawaited his coming with the greatest anxiety and impatience, or that theformer should say to himself: "From this time on I can sleep in peace.Jack's got home and mother's property is safe."
"Now that you have got through saying 'hallo,' I'd like to have you tellme why you came home like a thief in the night instead of knocking atthe door," said Marcy. "I don't know when I have been so frightened."
"Aha! That shows that I did not make a mistake in going to so muchtrouble to be on the safe side. You are afraid of the neighbors, areyou? I read the papers when I could get them, and among other things Ilearned that the South is divided against itself, and that few men knowfor certain who their friends are. Let's go somewhere and sit down."
Jack led his mother into the sitting-room. Marcy following with thelamp, and taking care to see that all the doors were closed before heseated himself.
"I should judge from your actions, Marcy, that this family is dividedagainst itself, and that you are afraid to trust the servants," saidJack. "If that's the case, the papers told the truth. Now tell me howyou got that bad arm. Were you shot?"
Marcy did not spend much time on his story, for he was impatient tolearn when and where his brother had been captured, and how he hadmanaged to escape after a prize crew had been thrown aboard his vessel.He simply told of his experience in the blockade-runner _Hattie_,leaving his exploits in the _Osprey_ to be narrated at some futuretime.
"I am glad the _Hattie_ got through the blockade all right seeing thatyou were aboard of her," said Jack, when Marcy brought his story to aclose. "But if Uncle Sam doesn't do something to break upblockade-running, he'll have a war on his hands that will make him openhis eyes. It will not take me five minutes to tell my story. I was aprisoner not more than twelve hours, and during that time not the firstexciting thing happened. If it hadn't been for the fact that there was astrange officer in command of the brig, and that our old man was walkingaround with his hands in his pockets, saying nothing, we wouldn't haveknown that we were prisoners at all."
With this introduction the returned sailor settled into an easy positionamong the sofa pillows and related his experience very nearly asfollows, with this exception: He quite forgot to say that he was the onewho first conceived the idea of taking the _Sabine_ out of the hands ofthe prize crew that Semmes had placed aboard of her, and that, if it hadnot been for his courage and prompt action, the brig would either havebeen sold for the benefit of the Confederate Government, or burned inthe Caribbean Sea after her neutral cargo had been put ashore.
It happened on the morning of July 4, and the _Sabine_, in company withthe brig _Herndon_, was sailing along the southern coast of Cuba, havingrecently left the port of Trinidad-de-Cuba with a cargo of sugar andmolasses, which was consigned to an English port in the Island ofJamaica. Although there was some sea on and rain squalls were frequent,there was but little breeze, and consequently the _Sabine_ could nothave run into neutral waters even if second mate Jack Gray, who hadcharge of the deck, had known that the steamer that was bearing downupon her was the freebooter, _Sumter_.
"What do you mean by neutral waters?" Marcy wanted to know.
"Why, every country that owns a strip of seacoast owns also the watersfor three miles out," replied Jack. "And inside of that marine league,as it is called, the cruisers of
one nation mustn't trouble the ships ofanother with which it happens to be at war. For example, if two armedvessels belonging to two different nations who are at loggerheads,happen to sail into the same neutral port, they can't fight there, butmust go outside; and if one of them runs out, the other must waittwenty-four hours before following her."
The coast of Cuba was in plain view when the _Sumter_ was sighted, butas there was little breeze stirring, and the brigs could not escape,Captain Semmes was not obliged to resort to the cowardly trick heusually practiced--that is, hoisting the English ensign to quiet thefears of the crew of the unlucky vessels he intended to destroy. Hebegan business at once; and the first thing that drew the attention ofsecond mate Jack Gray, as he planked the quarter-deck thinking of almosteverything except Confederate war vessels, was the roar of a thirty-twopounder. Jack looked up to see a thick cloud of white smoke floatingslowly away from the side of the steamer, and to take note of the factthat a peculiar looking flag floated from her peak. Jack had never seenit before, but he knew in a minute what it was. At the same time henoticed that the _Herndon_ which was half a mile or so in advance of the_Sabine_ had backed her main topsail and hoisted her own colors--theStars and Stripes.
"Tumble up here, Captain," exclaimed Jack, rushing to the top of thecompanion-ladder. "There's a rebel steamer on the lee bow, speaking tous."
"I wondered what that noise was," said the captain, as he came up theladder in two jumps, and saw that a boat had already been lowered fromthe steamer and was putting off to take charge of the _Herndon_.
The captain knew that there were rebel privateers afloat, for in aforeign port he had read of the escape of the _Savannah_ from Charlestonon June 2, and of the inglorious ending of her short career as afreebooter. The _Savannah_ captured one merchantman with a cargo ofsugar, and afterward gave chase to a brig, which turned out to be theman of war _Perry_. The _Savannah_ was captured after a little race, andher crew were sent to New York as prisoners. But the captain of the_Sabine_ never knew until that moment that the rebels had let loosesteam vessels to prey upon the commerce of the Northern States. Helooked at the "pirate," which, having sent off a boat to complete thecapture of the _Herndon_ had put herself in motion again and was drawingcloser to the _Sabine_ glanced up at the sails, and then turned hiswistful eyes toward the Cuban coast line.
"There isn't the ghost of a chance," said Jack, who easily read thethoughts that were passing in the mind of his commander. "If we try torun and she doesn't feel like chasing us, she'll shoot us into littlebits."
"She's got five guns," remarked the first mate, who was making a closeexamination of the steamer through the spyglass. "She's loading one ofthem, and it might be a good plan for us to come to and show colors."
These words brought the captain to his senses. He gave the necessaryorders, and in a few minutes the brig's maintopsail had been backed andthe Union emblem was floating from her peak. There were an astonishedlot of men aboard of her, and they were so angry, too, that they couldnot stand still. They clenched their hands and gritted their teeth whenthey saw a boat filled with armed men put off from the steamer, and whenthe boarding officer came over the side and informed the captain of the_Sabine_ in courteous tones, that his vessel was a prize to theConfederate cruiser _Sumter_ they could scarcely control themselves.
"I suppose I shall have to give in," said the Yankee skipper. "But Itell you plainly that if I had five guns and as many men as you've got,one or the other of us would have been on his way to the bottom beforethis time."
"Oh, I don't doubt that you would make us plenty of trouble if you hadthe power," said the rebel officer, with a smile. "But, fortunately, youhaven't got it. I shall have to ask you to get your papers and go off tothe _Sumter_ with me. What's your cargo, where from, and whither bound?"he added, turning to Jack, when the captain had disappeared in thecabin.
The second mate did not waste any time or words in giving the desiredinformation.
"Ah! A neutral cargo bound from one neutral port to another," said theofficer. "I am sorry to hear that."
"Why are you?" inquired Jack.
"Because under the circumstances we cannot destroy your vessel."
"What's the use of being so mean just because you happen to possess thepower?" said Jack.
"Young man," replied the officer sharply, "we are bound to harass youYankees all we can and in every way we can. That's what your people aredoing to us. But what else can we do? France and England have denied usthe privilege of taking our prizes into any of their ports, and there'sbut one course left for us to pursue. But Spain hasn't spoken yet, andperhaps we shall test her friendship for us by taking you into a Cubanport."
Things turned out just as the boarding officer thought they would. Thecaptain of the brig was taken off to the _Sumter_, and after his papershad been examined he was sent back, and a prize crew, consisting of amidshipman and four sailors, was placed on board the brig. Both prizeswere then taken in tow by the _Sumter_, which steamed away for theharbor of Cienfuegos, Captain Semmes laboring under the delusion thatSpain would permit him to have his Yankee prizes condemned and sold in aSpanish port. The Confederate midshipman commanded the brig, the Yankeesailors sullenly performed the little work there was to be done, and thefour Confederate sailors stood around and kept watch of them.
Only one thing that was worthy of note occurred during the day. The_Sumter_ steamed slowly along the coast, making not more than five knotsan hour, and the Yankee sailors, enraged over the loss of their vessel,and looking forward to nothing else but a long term of confinement in aSouthern prison, were very uneasy, and naturally enough they wanted toexchange opinions on the situation; but that was something themidshipman would not permit. He was vigilant, and would not allow thebrig's crew to get together for fear that they might hatch up a plan forrecapturing their property. If a couple of them got near enough togetherto whisper a few words to each other, he would call out roughly:
"What are you about, there? Get farther apart, you two."
This state of affairs continued until night came and darkness settleddown over the Caribbean Sea, and then Captain Semmes himself didsomething that caused the heart of every one of the _Sabine's_ crew tobeat high with hope.