Stand By The Union

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XX

  AN EXPEDITION TO ST. ANDREW'S BAY

  "What is your name, my man?" asked Christy, as he looked over thestalwart form of the skipper of the Magnolia.

  "Michael Bornhoff," replied the prisoner.

  "Are you a Russian?" asked the commander, inclined to laugh at thissingular name of one of the proscribed race.

  "No, sir; but I was named after a Russian sailor Captain Flanger pickedup in Havana. I don't mean this Captain Flanger that was on board of theMagnolia, but his father," replied the stout fellow.

  "Are you a free man?"

  "No, sir; I belong to Captain Flanger: his father is dead, and left meto his son."

  "Why did you bless the Lord that you were here at last?"

  "Because I have been trying to get here for more than a year," repliedthe contraband, after looking about him for a moment, and then droppinghis voice as though he feared Captain Flanger might hear what he said."Now, mister, will you tell me who you are before I say anything more?for I shall get my back scored with forty-nine stripes if I open mymouth too wide;" and again he looked timidly around the deck.

  "You are on board of the United States steamer Bronx, and I am thecommander of her," replied Christy, desiring to encourage MichaelBornhoff to tell all he knew about the expedition in the Magnolia.

  The skipper took his cap off, and bowed very low to Christy when herealized that he was talking to the principal personage on board of thegunboat. He was well dressed for one in his position, and displayed nolittle dignity and self-possession. Perhaps, if he had not been taintedwith a few drops of black blood in his veins, he might have been aperson of some consequence in the Confederate service.

  "Not a bad wound at all, Captain Passford," said Mr. Pennant. "Thedoctor says I am still fit for duty."

  "Captain Passford!" exclaimed Michael Bornhoff, as he heard the name;and the third lieutenant passed on to take a look at the prisoners.

  "That is my name," added Christy, smiling at the earnestness of theskipper.

  "That is a bad name for this child," said the octoroon, shaking hishead. "Are you the son of Colonel Passford?"

  "I am not; but I am his nephew," replied the commander, willing to beperfectly frank with him.

  "Bless the Lord that you are his nephew and not his son!" exclaimedMichael fervently, as he raised his eyes towards the sky, which wasbeginning to be visible through the fog. "I have heard about you, forI was to pilot a vessel out of Cedar Keys when you came up there incommand of the boats. Colonel Passford was over there, and he saw youon board of the Havana."

  "Then we understand each other, Mr. Bornhoff," added Christy.

  "Perfectly, Captain Passford; and I would trust you with my freedom,which is the dearest thing on earth to me. But don't call me 'mister,'or you will make me forget that I am a nigger," said the skipper,laughing in his delight to find that he was in good and safe hands."Captain Flanger called me Mike always, and that is a good enough namefor me."

  "Very well, Mike; you are a free man on board of this ship."

  "I ought to be, for I am a whiter man than Captain Flanger."

  "Now tell me what you know about that expedition on board of theMagnolia," said Christy more earnestly. "Mr. Pennant reports that yourpassengers claimed that they were peaceable citizens, and that yoursloop was bound to Appalachicola. Was that true?"

  "Just then they were peaceable enough; but they were not when CaptainFlanger ordered them to fire on your men. Colonel Passford and I werethe only peaceable citizens on board of the sloop, and I was no citizenat all," replied the skipper, laughing.

  "You are one now, at any rate. Were you bound to Appalachicola?"

  "Not just then, captain," chuckled Mike, who seemed to be amusedand delighted to feel that he was telling the secrets of his latecompanions.

  "We were going to Appalachicola after a while, where we were to pilotout some vessels loaded with cotton."

  "Then there are cotton vessels at that port, are there?" asked Christy,pricking up his ears at this suggestion.

  "Half a dozen of them, and a steamer to tow them to sea."

  "Are you sure of this information, Mike?"

  "I did not see them there, Captain Passford; but it was your uncle'sbusiness to look after them, as he was doing in St. Andrew's Bay."

  "Then my uncle has vessels in that bay which are to run out?" inquiredChristy, deeply interested in the revelations of the skipper.

  "Only one, sir: a steamer of five hundred tons, called the Floridian."

  "Precisely; that is the vessel we are after. But what was my uncle doingon board of your sloop, with Captain Flanger and the rest of yourparty?"

  "My master was the captain of the Floridian, and we came out here tosee if there was any blockader near, that had come up in the fog. Thesteamer was to be brought out by the pilot, who has been on board of herfor three days."

  "Who were the men with muskets on board of the sloop?"

  "Those were the coast guard, sir," replied Mike, chuckling again.

  "The coast guard? I don't understand that," replied Christy, puzzled atthe expression.

  "Eight of them, sir; and they have been keeping guard on Crooked, St.Andrew's, and Hurricane Islands, to let them know inside if there wasany blockader coming this way. They had sky-rockets and flags to makesignals with."

  "But why were they brought off if the steamer is still in the bay?"

  "The Floridian was coming out this morning in the fog, if CaptainFlanger made the signal for her to do so. Then the captain was to go onboard of her, and I was to sail the rest of the party to Appalachicola,"replied Mike, still chuckling with delight at his ability to give thecommander such important information.

  "Then the Floridian is all ready to come out of the bay?" asked Christy,suppressing the excitement he was beginning to feel.

  "All ready, sir; and the signal was a sky-rocket, which the pilot couldsee over the fog."

  "We will not give them any signal, but we will treat them to somevisitors. Is the steamer armed, Mike?"

  "No, sir; not a single big gun, and she has only hands enough to workher. Steam all up when we came out of the bay, sir," said Mike, laughingheartily, apparently in spite of himself.

  "Call all hands, Mr. Camden," said the commander in brusque tones.

  The boatswain's whistle sounded through the steamer. In a moment, as itwere, all hands were in their stations. Nothing like a drill with thepresent ship's company had been possible, though the men had beentrained to some extent at the navy-yard and on board of the Vernon; butthe majority of the crew were old men who had served some time on boardof the Bronx, and under the present commander.

  The prisoners appeared to be quite as much interested in the proceedingson deck as the ship's company, and closely observed everything that wasdone. Michael Bornhoff was quite excited, and walked the deck hurriedly,as though he was in search of something to do; but he was very carefulnot to go near the place where Captain Flanger was made fast to therail.

  "Mr. Flint," called the commander to the first lieutenant, as soon asthe crew were assembled on deck, "there is a steamer of five hundredtons in St. Andrew's Bay, all ready to come out at a given signal fromthe party just captured by the first cutter. I propose to capture herwith the boats, and you will take the command of the expedition. Thefirst and second cutters will be employed, and you will see that theyare ready."

  "The boats are in good condition, sir, and they will be ready in fiveminutes," replied Mr. Flint, who had come on deck at the call for allhands, and had hardly learned the results of the recent boat expedition.

  "Mr. Camden will take charge of the second cutter," added Christy.

  While the crews were making the boats ready, and Mr. Camden wasselecting the extra men for them, as he was instructed to do, Christygave the executive officer a brief account of the capture of the sloop,and an epitome of the information he had obtained from Bornhoff.

  "What am I to do, Captain Passford?" asked Mike, who was
watching theproceedings on deck with the most intense interest. "I want to ship inthe Yankee navy as a pilot, for I know this coast from the Mississippito Key West."

  "Are you a sailor?" asked Christy.

  "I went to sea for eleven years, and Captain Flanger, father and son,put my wages in their pockets."

  "You cannot ship as a pilot, only as an able seaman, if you know how tohand, reef, and steer, and how to make knots and splices."

  "I know all that, captain, like I know my name."

  "Then I will look upon you as an able seaman until you are formallyenlisted. Mr. Flint, this man is Michael Bornhoff; he is an able seamanand a pilot in these waters. I think you had better take him with you,for he is fully informed in regard to the Floridian, which you are tobring out. Let him have pistols and a cutlass," said Christy.

  In ten minutes more the expedition left the ship, and soon disappearedin the low bank of fog that still hung over the shore. Each of thecutters had been manned by twelve men besides the officer, and Mike wasan extra hand with the first lieutenant. What remained of the port watchwere on duty, and the rest of the men were dismissed.

  Mr. Pennant had the deck, and the commander walked back and forth,considering the information he had obtained from the skipper of theMagnolia, of the correctness of which he had no doubt, for Mikeimpressed him as a truthful man, and, like all the contrabands, hisinterest was all on the side of the Union, which meant freedom to them.For the first time he began to feel not quite at home in his newposition. He had been compelled to fight for it; but he absolutelywished that he were the first or second lieutenant rather than thecommander of the vessel.

  The traditions of the navy, and of all navies, forbade him to leave hisship to engage in any enterprise connected with his mission. He had totake all the responsibility of failure, while he could not take anactive part on such occasions as the present. He had the glory of beinga commander, and of whatever his ship accomplished; but it began to looklike a life of inactivity to him, for he was not greedy of glory, andall his devotion was for the Union.

  He had learned that several vessels were loading with cotton atAppalachicola, with the intention of running the blockade, if therewas any blockader off Cape St. George. His uncle Homer was engaged insuperintending the fitting out of these vessels, though whether on hisown account or that of the Confederacy, he was not aware. Christy feltthat he ought to follow up the information he had obtained with decidedaction; but he was hardly in condition to do so, for he had fifteenprisoners on board, and he would be obliged to send a prize crew off inthe Floridian when she was brought out, as he was confident she wouldbe. He could not settle the question at once, and he went down into hiscabin, where his uncle was waiting very impatiently to see him, and hadasked Dave a dozen times in regard to him.

  Colonel Passford was naturally very anxious to ascertain what had beendone, and what was to be done, by the Bronx; but the steward was toodiscreet to answer any of his questions, and he was not aware that hisson Corny was a prisoner on board as well as himself.