CHAPTER III.
BEARDSLEY BETRAYS HIMSELF.
Never before had the hours hung as heavily upon Marcy Gray's hands asthey did at the period of which we write. There was literally nothing hecould do--at least that he _wanted_ to do. He did not care to readanything except the newspapers, and they came only once a day; he hadnever learned how to lounge around and let the hours drag themselvesaway; he very soon grew weary of sailing about the sound in the _FairyBelle_ with the boy Julius for a companion; and so he spent a little ofhis time in visiting among the neighboring planters, and a good dealmore in "pottering" among his mother's flower beds. Visiting was thehardest work he had ever done; but he knew he couldn't shirk it withoutexciting talk, and there was talk enough about him in the settlementalready.
To a stranger it would have looked as though he had nothing to complainof. He was cordially received wherever he went, often heard himselfspoken of as "one of our brave boys" (although what he had done thatwas so very brave Marcy himself could not understand), and visitors atMrs. Gray's house were as numerous as they ever had been; but Marcy andhis mother were people who could not be easily deceived by such a showof friendship. Some of it, as they afterward learned, was genuine; whilethe rest was assumed for the purpose of leading them on to "declare"themselves. It was a mean thing for neighbors to be guilty of, but youmust remember that, like Rodney Gray when he wrote that mischievousletter to Bud Goble, they did not know all the time what they weredoing. Of course the high-spirited Marcy grew restive under suchtreatment; and when, after long waiting, the postmaster handed him aletter from Captain Beardsley, ordering him to report on board the_Osprey_ without loss of time, he did not feel as badly over it as heonce thought he should. On the contrary, he appeared to be very jubilantwhen he showed the letter to Allison and half a score of other youngrebels who were always to be found loafing around the post-office atmail time.
"I'm off to sea again," said he. "Now the Yankees had better look out."
"It must be an enjoyable life, Marcy," replied Allison. "You see anyamount of fun and excitement, draw big prize-money in addition to yourregular wages, and, better than all, you run no sort of risk. It maysurprise you to know that I have been turning the matter over in my minda good deal of late, and have come to the conclusion that I should enjoybeing one of a privateer's crew. What do you think about it?"
"I am not acquainted with a single fellow who would enjoy it more,"answered Marcy, who told himself that Allison was just coward enough toengage in some such disreputable business. "You are just the lad for it.It is such fun to bring a swift vessel to and haul down the old flag inthe face of men who are powerless to defend it."
Sharp as Marcy Gray was, his strong love for the Union and his intensehatred for the business in which he was perforce engaged, sometimes ledhim to come dangerously near to betraying himself. Allison lookedsharply at him, but there was nothing in Marcy's face to indicate thathe did not mean every word he said.
"I am heartily glad I am going to sea again," continued the latter; andhe told nothing but the truth. The companionship of the ignorantforeigners who composed the _Osprey's_ crew was more to his liking thandaily intercourse with pretended friends who were constantly watchingfor a chance to get him into trouble.
"Do you think I could get on with Captain Beardsley?" inquired Allison.
"You might. The crew was full when I left the schooner, but I will speakto the captain, if you would like to have me."
"I really wish you would, for I am anxious to do something for theglorious cause of Southern independence. When do you sail?"
"I don't know. About all the captain says in his letter is that he wantsme to report immediately."
"Does he say whether or not the _Hollins_ has been sold yet?"
"Oh, yes; he speaks of that, and congratulates me on the fact that Ihave eight hundred and seventy-live dollars more to my credit on theschooner's books than I did when I left her at Newbern."
"W-h-e-w!" whistled Allison. "How long did it take you to make thecapture?"
"Four or five hours, I should say."
"Eight hundred and seventy-five dollars for four or five hours' work!Marcy, you have struck a gold mine. You will be as rich as Julius Caesarin less than a year."
"How long do you suppose Uncle Sam will allow such--such work to be keptup?" exclaimed Marcy.
"Oh, no doubt he would be glad to stop it now if he could; but when hetries it, he will find that he's got the hardest job on his hands heever undertook. There never was a better place for carrying on suchbusiness than the waters of North Carolina. Our little inlets are tooshallow to float a heavy man-of-war."
"No matter how big the job may be, you will find that these small-fryprivateers" (it was right on the end of Marcy's tongue to say "pirates")"will be swept from the face of the earth in less than a year; so that Ishall have no chance to get rich. But I'll have to be going, for I muststart for Newbern this very night. I suppose you will all be in the armyby the time I get back, so good-by."
Allison and his friends shook hands with him, wished him anothersuccessful voyage, and Marcy mounted and rode away, his filly neverbreaking her lope until she turned through the gate into the yard, anddrew up before the steps that led to the porch. His mother met him atthe door and knew as soon as she looked at him that he had news forher.
"Yes, I've got orders from Beardsley," said the boy, without waiting tobe questioned. "And if Jack were only here, and I was about to engage insome honorable business, I should be glad to go. Mother, on the day wecaptured the _Hollins_ we robbed somebody of fifty-six thousanddollars."
"Oh, Marcy, is it not dreadful!" said Mrs. Gray.
"It is, for a fact. We're having a bully time now, but the day will comewhen we'll have to settle with the fiddler. You will see. Yes, thevessel and her cargo sold for fifty-six thousand dollars. Half of itwent to the government, and half of the remainder was divided among thethree officers, Beardsley getting the lion's share, I bet you. Thesixteen members of the crew get an equal share of the other fourteenthousand, the difference in rank between the petty officers and foremasthands being so slight that Beardsley did not think it worth while togive one more than another; but he hints that he has got something laidby for me."
"My son, it will burn your fingers," said Mrs. Gray.
"I can't help it if it does. I'll have to take all he offers me, but, ofcourse, I don't expect to keep it. Now, mother, please help me get off.The longer I fool around home the harder it will be to make a start."
Marcy wanted to caution his mother to look out for Hanson while he wasgone; but he did not do it, for he well knew that she had enough totrouble her already, and that the mention of the overseer's name wouldawaken all her old fears of spies and organized bands of robbers. Hesent word to Morris, the coachman, to have the carriage brought to thedoor, loitered about doing nothing while his mother packed his valise,and in twenty minutes more was on his way to Newbern, which he reachedwithout any mishap, not forgetting, however, to send a telegram on fromBoydtown informing Beardsley that his orders had been received, and thatthe pilot was on his way to join the _Osprey_.
"And I wish I might find her sunk at her dock, and so badly smashed thatshe never could be raised and repaired," was what he thought every timehe looked out of the car window and ran his eyes over the crowds ofexcited people that were gathered upon the platforms of all the depotsthey passed. "But, after all, what difference does it make? If I don'tgo to sea I shall have to live among secret enemies, and I don't knowbut one thing is about as bad as the other. If any poor mortal everlived this way before, I am sorry for him."
Although Marcy was almost a stranger in Newbern, he had no difficulty infinding his vessel when he got out of the cars. He walked straight toher, and while he was yet half a block away, the sight of her masts toldhim that she was still on top of the water. She would soon be ready tosail, too, for her crew were rushing her stores aboard, while CaptainBear
dsley walked his quarter-deck smoking a cigar and looking on. Hisface seemed to say that he was a little surprised to see his pilot; butif he was he did not show it in his greeting.
"Well, there, you did come back, didn't yon?" said he, extending hishand.
"Of course I came back," replied Marcy. "What else did yon expect me todo? I was on the road in less than two hours after your order came tohand."
"That's prompt and businesslike," said the captain approvingly. "But Ididn't look for you to appear quite so soon. How's everybody to home?"
"All right as far as I could see; and Allison wants to join your crew."
"The idea!" exclaimed Captain Beardsley. "Well, he can just stay wherehe is for all of me, hollering for the Confederacy and doing never athing to help us gain our independence. His place is in the army, and Iwon't have no haymakers aboard of me. See any Union folks while you wasto home?"
"I saw and talked with one man who said he was for the Union," answeredthe young pilot. He was prepared for the question, and positive that ifhe managed the matter rightly, Beardsley would soon let him know whetheror not he was concerned in that little plot, as Marcy believed he was.But, as it happened, no management was necessary, for keeping a secretwas the hardest work Beardsley ever did.
"Did, hey?" he exclaimed, throwing the stump of his cigar over the sternand looking very angry indeed. "I always suspected that man Hanson. Youdischarged him, of course."
"No, I didn't," replied Marcy. "It wouldn't have been safe. I toldKelsey that if the colonel and his friends desired that he should be runoff the place, they could attend to the matter themselves. I wouldn'thave the first thing to do with it. I was given to understand that therewere many Union men in the settlement, and I didn't care to give them anexcuse for burning us out of house and home."
"That was perfectly right. And what did Shelby say?"
"I didn't hear, for he sent no message to me."
"Did you say anything to Hanson about it?"
"I did, and told him that as long as he attended strictly to hisbusiness he would have no trouble with me."
Marcy had purposely avoided speaking Colonel Shelby's name and Hanson's,preferring to let Captain Beardsley do it himself. The latter walkedsquarely into the trap without appearing to realize that he had done it,and the young pilot was satisfied that his commander was the man whoneeded watching more than anybody else.
"I can't say that I hope Beardsley will be killed or drowned during thecruise," thought Marcy. "But I do say that if he was out of the way Iwould have less trouble with my neighbors."
"Never mind," said Beardsley, after a little pause. "When I get home Iwill ask Shelby and Dillon to tell me all about it; and if that overseerof yourn is really Union, perhaps I can make him see that he had bettergo up to the United States, where he belongs."
The captain took a turn or two across the deck, looked up at thetopmasts as he might have done if the schooner had been under way and hewanted to make sure that everything was drawing, and then he leaned upagainst the rail.
"Oh!" said he, as if the thought had just come to him, "what do youthink of your good fortune? Eight hundred dollars don't grow in everyboy's dooryard. I tell you. And, Marcy," he went on in a lower tone,"I've got as much more laid by for you. I told you I would do the fairthing, and I meant every word of it. You're pilot, you know."
"Thank you, sir," replied the boy--not because he felt grateful toCaptain Beardsley for giving him nearly nine hundred dollars ofanother's man's money, but because he knew he was expected to say it.
"Seventeen hundred dollars and better will keep your folks in grub andclothes for quite a spell, won't it?" the captain continued. "But law!what am I saying? It ain't a drop in the bucket to such rich people asyou be."
Marcy listened, but said nothing. He thought he knew what Beardsley hadon his mind.
"Some folks pertend to think we're going to have the very toughest kindof a war, but I don't," said the latter. "The Yankees don't come offighting stock, like we Southern gentlemen do; but if a war should come,I suppose your folks are well fixed for it?"
"About as well fixed as most of the planters in the settlement,"answered the pilot. "You know we've had the best of crops for a year ortwo back."
"But I mean--you see--any money?" inquired the captain cautiously--sovery cautiously that he thought it necessary to whisper the words.
"Oh, yes; we have money. How could we live without it?"
"That's so; how could you? I reckon you've got right smart of a lot,ain't you?"
"Mother has some in the bank at Wilmington, but just how much I don'tknow. I never asked her."
The young pilot's gaze was fastened upon the men who were at workgetting the provisions aboard, but for all that, he could see thatBeardsley was looking at him as if he meant to read his most secretthoughts.
"I don't believe there's no money in that there house," was what thecaptain was saying to himself.
"Sly old fox," thought Marcy. "I knew he would betray his secret if Ionly held my tongue and gave him a chance to do it." And then he askedthe captain when he expected to get the schooner ready for sea, andwhether or not any prizes had been brought into port during hisabsence.
"There's been one prize brought in worth ten thousand dollars more'nour'n, dog-gone it all--there she is right over there--and there's beenthree blockade-runners went out and two come in," was the captain'sanswer. "I didn't see why they should call 'em blockade-runners when wedidn't think there was a blockade at all, excepting the paper one thatappeared in Lincoln's proclamation; but seeing that the brig _Herald_ain't been heard from since she run out of Wilmington, I begin tomistrust that there's war vessels outside, and that the _Osprey_ mayhave a chance to show her heels. If that happens we'll make the besttime we know how for Crooked Inlet, and trust to you to bring usthrough."
"You won't need any help from me," was what the boy said to himself."I'll bet my share of that prize-money, that if we get into trouble witha Union cruiser you will take command of the schooner yourself and sailher through Crooked Inlet as slick as falling off a log."
"The folks around here and Wilmington have been hoping that the _Herald_might be captured, and that the United States people will have thebackbone to hold fast to her," added Captain Beardsley.
"Why do they hope for any such bad luck as that?" inquired Marcy,considerably surprised.
"May be it wouldn't be bad luck. You see she is a Britisher, the_Herald_ is, and her cargo was consigned to an English house all fairand square. A blockade, to be legal and binding upon foreign nations,must be effectual," said the captain, quoting the language his agent hadoften used in his hearing. "A paper blockade won't do; and if theYankees can't send ships enough here to shut up our ports completely,any Britisher or Frenchman can run in and out as often as he feels likeit, and the Yankees dassent do a thing to him. If the _Herald_ has beencaptured she will have to be given up."
"But suppose Uncle Sam won't give her up?"
"We are hoping he won't, for that will get the British folks down onhim; and between the two of us we'll give him such a licking that he'llnever get over it. See?"
Yes; Marcy saw, now that the situation had been explained to him, but itwas something he had never thought of before. Almost the first lesson helearned in history was that England had no love for the United States,and if she took a hand in the war that was surely coming, why then----
"Why, then, France may help Uncle Sam," exclaimed Marcy. "She has alwaysbeen friendly to us, and didn't she send troops here during ourRevolutionary war to help us whip the English?"
"She did; but what was the reason she sent them troops over here?"demanded the captain, who had heard this question discussed a good manytimes while Marcy was at home on his leave of absence. "Was it becauseshe had any love for republican--republican--ah--er--institutions? No,sir. It was because she wanted to spite the English for taking Canadyaway from her. France won't lift a hand to help the Yankees if we getinto a row with them."
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bsp; Beardsley took another turn about his quarter-deck, lighted a freshcigar, and became confidential.
"Something tells me that this business of privateering ain't a going tolast long, and so I think some of dropping it and starting out inanother," said he. "Any idea what it is?"
Marcy replied that he had not.
"Well, it's trading--running the blockade."
"To what ports?" asked the boy.
"I can't rightly tell till I get some word from them vessels that's justwent out," was the answer. "But it'll be Nassau or Havana, one of thetwo. I'll take cotton out--cotton is king, you know, and must be had tokeep all them working people in England from starving--and bringmedicine back. Medicine is getting skurse and high-priced already. Andpercussion caps. They're the things you can make money on. Why, I haveheard it said that there wasn't enough gun caps in the Confederacy tofight a battle with till Captain Semmes made that tower of his throughthe Northern States, buying powder and bullets, and making contractswith the dollar-loving Yankees to build cannon to shoot their own kinwith. But I want to see how the land lays before I go into the businessof running the blockade. If there's big risk and little profit I ain'tin."
"What port will you run out of?" was Marcy's next question; and when thecaptain said it would probably be Wilmington, the boy was delighted, forhe expected to hear him announce that after he gave up privateering andtook to blockade-running he would no longer need the services of apilot. But if such a thought came into Beardsley's mind he did not speakit aloud. Just then he was called to another part of the deck and Marcypicked up his valise and went below.
"Beardsley doesn't mean to let me go," he soliloquized, as he tossed thevalise into his bunk and opened the locker in which he had stowed hisbedding for safe-keeping. "He's got me fast, and there's no chance forescape as long as the _Osprey_ remains in commission. Well, there's onecomfort: Beardsley is not a brave man, and he'll make haste to lay theschooner up the minute he has reason to believe that it is growingdangerous outside."
Marcy went on deck again, and having nothing to do with the loading ofthe vessel, sauntered around with his hands in his pockets. He fullyexpected that Beardsley would have something more to say about the moneythat was supposed to be hidden in Mrs. Gray's house; but he didn't, forthe captain had almost come to the conclusion that there was no moneythere. If there was, Marcy could not be surprised into acknowledging thefact, and so Beardsley thought it best to let the matter drop until hecould go home and hold a consultation with the overseer.
Bright and early the next morning the privateer cast off her fasts andstood down the river, reaching the sound in time to catch the flood tidethat hurried her up toward Crooked Inlet. It was now the middle of July,and the Union and the Confederacy stood fairly opposed to each other.The Confederate Government, having established itself at Richmond, hadpushed its outposts so far to the north that their sentries could seethe dome of the Capitol across the Potomac. There were nearly eighthundred thousand square miles in the eleven seceded States, and of thisimmense territory all that remained to the Union were the few acres ofground enclosed within the walls of Fortress Monroe and Forts Pickens,Taylor, and Jefferson. Loyal Massachusetts men had been murdered in thestreets of Baltimore; battles of more or less importance had been foughtboth in the East and West, and on the very day that Marcy joined theprivateer, the future leader of the Army of the Potomac won a completevictory over the rebel forces at Rich Mountain. The Richmond papers hadvery little to say about this fight, except to assure their readers thatit was a matter of no consequence whatever; but they had a good deal tosay concerning the "gallant exploit" that Captain Semmes had performed afew days before at the passes of the Mississippi. Well, it was a braveact--one worthy of a better cause--to run the little _Sumter_ out in theface of a big ship like the Brooklyn and when Marcy read of it herecalled what his Cousin Rodney had once said to him while they weretalking about sailor Jack, who was then somewhere on the high seas:
"He may never get back," said Rodney. "We'll have a navy of our own oneof these days, and then every ship that floats the old flag will have towatch out. We'll light bonfires on every part of the ocean."
That was just what Captain Semmes intended to do, and history tells howfaithfully he carried out the instructions of the Richmond Government.
Somewhat to Marcy's surprise, Captain Beardsley turned the command overto him when the schooner reached Crooked Inlet, and Marcy took hersafely through and out to sea. If there were any war ships on thecoast--and it turned out that there were, for the brig _Herald_ had beencaptured and taken to a Northern port--they were stationed farther downtoward Hatteras Inlet, and the schooner's lookouts did not see any ofthem until she had been some hours at sea. At daylight on the morning ofthe third day out the thrilling cry from the crosstrees "sail ho!"created a commotion on the privateer's deck, and brought Marcy Gray upthe ladder half dressed.
"Where away?" shouted Captain Beardsley.
"Broad on our weather beam and standing straight across our bows," wasthe encouraging response from aloft.
"Can you make her out?" asked the captain, preparing to mount to thecrosstrees with a spy-glass in his hand. "You're sure she isn't acruiser?"
"No, sir. She's a brig, and she's running along with everything set."
"Then we must cut her off or she'll get away from us. Put afifteen-second shell in that bow gun, Tierney! Stand by the colorhalliards, Marcy!"
These orders were obeyed with an "Ay, ay, sir," although the brig wasyet so far away that she could not be seen from the deck; but as the twovessels were sailing diagonally toward each other, she did not longremain invisible. The moment Marcy caught sight of her top-hamper, andwhile he stood with the halliards in his hand waiting for the order torun up the Stars and Stripes, Captain Beardsley began swearing mostlustily and shouting orders to his mates, the sheets were let out, thehelm put down, and the privateer fell off four or five points. Marcyknew the meaning of this before the excited and angry Beardsley yelled,at the top of his voice:
"The rascal is trying to dodge us. He's got lookouts aloft. Run up thatflag, Marcy, and see if that won't quiet his feelings. Them war shipsdown to Hatteras have posted him, and if we don't handle ourselves justright we'll never bring him within range."
Marcy lost no time in running up the old flag; but if the master of thebrig saw it he was not deceived by it. He showed no disposition to runback to Hatteras, and put himself under protection of the war shipsthere, as Marcy thought and hoped he would, but put his vessel beforethe wind, squared his yards, and trusted to his heels. It looked toMarcy like a most desperate undertaking, for you will remember that theschooner was far ahead of the brig, and that the merchant captain wasabout to run by her. It didn't seem possible that he could succeed, butthe sequel proved that he knew just what his vessel was capable ofdoing. She came up at a "hand gallop," and finally showed herself fromwater-line to main-truck in full view of the privateer's crew. Hercanvas loomed up like a great white cloud, and her low, black hull, bycomparison, looked no bigger than a lead pencil. She went like the wind,and Marcy Gray told himself that she was the most beautiful object hehad ever seen.
"I hope from the bottom of my heart that she will get away," was the onethought that filled his mind.
Perhaps the wish would have been even more fervent if he had known whowas aboard that brig.
Marcy the Blockade Runner Page 3
