CHAPTER III
CHRISTY PASSFORD IS UTTERLY CONFOUNDED
The appearance of Walsh, fully dressed in the garb of a seaman, was sogreat a surprise to Christy Passford, that he hardly noticed any otherperson on the deck of the Vernon. He had given no particular attentionto the man when he saw him at his father's house, though he regarded himas a very good-looking and intelligent person for one in the situationin which he found him. The absconding man-servant had certainly madegood use of his time since he left Bonnydale, for he appeared to havebecome a full-fledged sailor in the space of ten hours.
For the size of the steamer, she seemed to be manned by a very largecrew; but the letter he had received from his father that morninginformed him that the greater part of the crew of the Bronx had beentransferred to other vessels upon more active service, and that a largenumber of seamen were to be sent immediately to reinforce the squadron.This was not pleasant intelligence, for he had become acquainted withall on board of the Bronx, and he would have preferred to begin hispermanent service as commander with the former ship's company of thelittle steamer. However, the exigencies of the service required thechange, and he could not complain.
It was probable that the greater part of his new crew would be made upfrom the men now on board of the Vernon; and this belief caused him toregard these men with more interest than he might otherwise have done.He had no fault to find after the glance he had bestowed upon them, forthey presented a very trim appearance in their new uniform, and looked agreat deal more tidy than they would after they had been on duty a fewweeks.
Lieutenant Passford was on board of the Vernon, and he had no furthersolicitude in regard to a literal obedience to his orders. The commanderof the steamer, whoever he was, did not appear to have noticed the newarrival, and no one gave any attention to Christy. He walked forwardto take a better view of the crew, and the seamen touched their capsto the shoulder straps of a lieutenant with which he had been carefulto ornament his coat.
The men at work in the waist finished their task as Christy wasreturning from his promenade, with the intention of presenting himselfto the commander. Among those who saluted him in proper form was Walsh.He seemed to be a little diffident about encountering the son of hislate employer, and turned his face away as he touched his cap. But theofficer had fully identified him, and spoke to him, calling him by name.The sailor made no reply; but Christy had placed himself directly beforehim, and he could not escape without a breach of discipline.
"I spoke to you, Walsh," said the lieutenant, in the tone he had learnedto use when he intended to enforce respect and obedience.
"I beg your pardon, sir; my name is not Walsh," replied the sailor, withall the deference the occasion required.
"Your name is not Walsh!" exclaimed Christy with a frown.
"No, sir; that is not my name, and I supposed that you spoke to someother man," pleaded the late man-servant of the mansion at Bonnydale.
The lieutenant gazed earnestly into the face of the sailor, for he waswilling to admit to himself the possibility of a mistake. Walsh, orwhatever his name might have been, was a man of robust form, not morethan an inch or two short of six feet in height. He was clean-shaved,with the exception of his upper lip, whereon he sported a rather longdark brown mustache, of which a Broadway dandy might have been vain. Asa servant, he had been rather obsequious, though Christy had observedthat he used very good language for one in his menial position. As theofficer examined his form and features, and especially regarded theexpression in general, he was satisfied that he could not be mistaken.
"I did not speak to another man; I spoke to you," added Christy, as heintensified the gaze with which he confronted the man, resorting to thetactics of a sharp lawyer in the cross-examination of an obduratewitness.
"I ask your pardon, sir, but you called me Welch, or some such name,"replied the late servant, as Christy was sure he was in spite of hisdenial.
"I called you Walsh; and that is the name to which you responded at twoo'clock this morning," persisted the lieutenant.
"That is not my name, sir; and I refer you to the ship's papers to proveit. I am not the man to be ashamed of my name, which is not Welch orWalsh, sir, if you will excuse me for saying so."
"Will you deny that you were employed as a servant at the house ofCaptain Passford, at Bonnydale on the Hudson?" demanded Christy, withnot a little energy in his tones and manner.
"Where, sir, if you please?" asked the sailor, with a sort of bewilderedlook.
"At Bonnydale!"
"Boddyvale? I never heard of the place before in my life, sir," answeredthe runaway servant.
Possibly the man under examination was not wholly responsible for hisdistortion of the name of Captain Passford's estate, as Christy wasbeginning to reap the penalty of his imprudence the night before, inexposing himself barefooted and half-clothed to the chill midnightair, and was developing a cold in the head that already affected hisenunciation.
"Bonnydale!" repeated the officer, after using his handkerchief, andthus improving his utterance of the word.
"I never heard of the place before, sir," persisted the seaman.
"Byron!" called a boatswain's mate from the forecastle.
"That's my name--Byron, sir, at your service," said the man, as hetouched his cap to the lieutenant, and rushed forward in answer to thecall of his superior, evidently glad to escape from the inquisition towhich he had been subjected. "On deck!" he added, as he made his way tothe forecastle.
Christy was a passenger on board of the Vernon, and he had nothing todo. The commanding officer appeared to be engaged in the details of hisduty, though the steamer was in charge of a pilot. He could see fromhis shoulder straps that he was an ensign, and the officers in the waistand on the forecastle were of the same rank. If there were any otherpassengers on board of the vessel who were commissioned officers, theywere not visible on the deck, though they might be in their staterooms,arranging their affairs for the voyage.
The young lieutenant leaned against the rail, and gave himself up to theconsideration of what had occurred since he came on board. He had beenbewildered by one mystery the night before, and he could not help askinghimself if the conduct of Walsh had anything to do with the visit of theintruder at Bonnydale. He could not trace out any connection between thetwo events; but, on the other hand, he was unable to satisfy himselfthat the mysterious visit, the sudden disappearance of the man-servant,and the denial of his identity by the latter, were not in some mannerrelated to each other.
He had no premises on which to base an argument for or against one thingor another. All was dark to him, and he could not get hold of anything.After he had raised up a variety of suppositions, and combatedvigorously with them, the darkness seemed only to become more dense,and he was compelled to abandon the subject without arriving at anyreasonable explanation. Under the instruction of his father, he hadcultivated "a judicial mind," which compelled him to reject all merespeculation.
Christy was not disposed to believe that he was a brilliant officer,or to accept unchallenged the extravagant praise that had been bestowedupon him. He endeavored to follow the Gospel injunction "not to think ofhimself more highly than he ought to think." But while he tried to keepthe flower of modesty in full bloom in his soul, he could not deny thathe had given the enemies of his country a great deal of trouble, andsubjected them to some heavy losses. Then he recalled the conspiracy onboard of the Bronx while he was acting-commander of her; and though itwas for the interest of the Confederacy to get rid of so active anofficer, he believed it was the vessel and not himself that theconspirators desired to obtain.
Before the Vernon reached The Narrows, everything on her deck had beenput in order by the large crew, and less activity prevailed on board.Christy thought it was time for him to report to the commander, and hemoved aft for this purpose. He did not even know the name of thisgentleman, and he saw no one to introduce him formally; but the ensignin command had doubtless received an order to take him
as a passenger tothe Gulf.
Before he reached the sacred limits of the quarter-deck, Christy met aquartermaster, of whom he inquired the name of the commander.
"He has a good name for the captain of a fighting ship," replied thepetty officer, respectfully touching his cap to the shoulder straps ofthe inquirer. "The commander is Captain Battleton."
"Captain Battleton," repeated Christy, to assure himself that he hadcorrectly understood the name.
"Captain Battleton," added the quartermaster. "I hope you are feelingbetter to-day, sir."
"I am feeling very well to-day, except that I have started a cold in thehead," replied Christy, astonished at this display of interest in thestate of his health.
"I am glad to hear it, sir, for you appeared to be quite sick last nightwhen you came on board," added the quartermaster.
"Did I, indeed? I was not aware of it. I came on board last night? I wasnot aware of that fact," said Christy.
The petty officer did not hear his remarks, for he had been called bythe second lieutenant in the waist, and, with a touch of his cap,hastened away. The lieutenant opened his eyes very wide, as he lookeddown at the seams in the deck, and wondered whether he were asleep orawake. He had been quite sick, and he had come on board the nightbefore! It was very strange that he was not at all aware of either ofthese facts. He felt reasonably confident that he had slept in his ownchamber at Bonnydale the night before, and at that time he was certainlyin a very robust state of health, however it might be at the presentmoment. Even now, he could not complain of anything more severe than anembryo cold in the head, which the medicine his mother had given himwould probably reduce to a state of subjection in a day or two.
At first, he was disposed to be amused at the answers the quartermasterhad given him, for it was evident to him then that he had been mistakenfor another person. It looked as though some officer had come on board,and reported under his name, for he had not yet learned anything inregard to the gentleman who had appeared to be quite sick when hereported himself. It had the elements of another mystery in it. But thepetty officer could easily have made an honest mistake; and this was thesolution he accepted, without bothering his bewildered brain any furtherabout it.
The commander appeared to be less occupied at this moment than he hadbeen before, and Christy stepped forward to the quarter-deck, andpolitely saluted him. Captain Battleton was not less punctilious in hisetiquette. He was a young man, though he was apparently six or sevenyears older than Christy. He was an ensign, and looked like a gentlemanwho was likely to give a good account of himself when he was called tomore active duty than that of commanding a store ship.
"Good-morning, Lieutenant Passford!" said Captain Battleton, as heextended his hand to his passenger. "I am glad to see that you arebetter."
Christy was utterly confounded at this salutation.