by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XVIII.
BRAVE OLD SALT.
The most extensive and careful preparations were in progress for theevents which, a few days later, astonished the world even more than thesplendid achievements of the fleet below New Orleans. The squadron offthe mouth of Mobile Bay had been actively employed for several days insending down top-masts, superfluous spars, and rigging. Chain cables hadbeen extended over the sides of the ships where the machinery wasexposed to injury from the shot and shell of the fort. Chains and sandbags were placed on the decks where plunging shot might disable theengines. Boats were removed from the starboard to the port sides, forthe fleet was to go in with Fort Morgan on the right, and close aboardof them.
The preparations were advancing when Somers reported on board of theChatauqua, and of course he at once experienced the inspiration ofcoming events. If there was any man in the navy whom he admired andreverenced, that man was Admiral Farragut. It is true, he was notsingular in this respect, for every man in the fleet was equally devotedto him. The "Old Salamander," who seemed never to be happier than whenin the midst of the hottest fire which the engines of modern warfarecould produce, was the idol of both officers and seamen. He was anhonest, just, and humane man, one who involuntarily won the respect ofevery person with whom he came into contact.
We were never more thoroughly impressed by the honesty, justice, andhumanity of a man, than when we took the hand of this "Brave Old Salt."His expressive eye, and his gentle, but dignified bearing, spoke moretruly and forcibly of what he was, than the most elaborate biographywhich the pen of genius could produce. It almost passes belief that mencan stand up and work and fight as officers and seamen worked and foughtbetween Forts Jackson and St. Philip, and at Mobile Bay; but we canthink of no better inspiration than the leadership of such a man asAdmiral Farragut.
He was born in Tennessee--a southern state; his home was in Virginia--asouthern state--at the breaking out of the rebellion. With all themotives which actuated Lee and Johnston, Tatnall and Hollins, to inducehim to abandon the old flag under which he had fought in early youth,and served through all his manhood, he remained true to his country inthe hour of her severest trial. Neither bribes nor threats could movehim, and not for one instant did he falter in his devotion to the flaghe had sworn to sustain against all foes. Glory, honor, and immortalityin the hearts of his countrymen to the noble Admiral!
As a naval commander, he has no rival in the past or the present, inthis or in any country. He has achieved, once, twice, thrice, what anyboard of naval officers that could have been convened from the boldestand most skilful naval heroes of the united nations, would have solemnlypronounced impossible. Chance might have given him the LowerMississippi--it did not; but it could not have given him that and MobileBay, and the brilliant exploits up the Great River. Chance iscapricious; it never metes out uniform success.
Admiral Farragut is not simply a brave and skilful seaman, for thestroke of genius shines out in all his battle plans, in all hispreparations, and in all his movements, whether on the silent river, ashis majestic ship leads in the van to the conflict, or under the mostdeadly and destructive fire that ever was rained down on a wooden hull."Brave Old Salt" in the main rigging of the Hartford, as she breastedthe storm of shot and shell from Fort Morgan, is a spectacle moresublime than can be presented in the annals of any other nation. Theposition he chose for himself on that momentous occasion, more trulyindicates the key to his marvellous success than any other fact inconnection with the battle. He was not there to expose himselfneedlessly to deadly peril; he was there to see and take advantage ofthe issues of the battle.
His position was a symbol of the intelligence and bravery which won thegreat battle. He saw with his own eyes--not with others; while hisglorious personal devotion was a type for every other man, which wasimitated from commodores down to powder-boys. We read of a general whocould not remember where he was during one of the severest and mostdestructive fights of the war. If he had been in a positioncorresponding to that of the doughty old admiral, it would have beendifficult for him to forget it. But personal bravery alone does not winthe battle on the sea or the land. The admiral's victories are due evenmore to his genius--to his persevering industry in the elaboration ofpreparatory details.
"Brave Old Salt," as Somers always called him, was our young officer'sbeau-ideal of a naval commander. "Brave" he certainly was, and "OldSalt," to a sailor, means something more than a long experience at sea.It conveys to the nautical mind an idea of skill which no "lubber" canpossess. It was bravery, seamanship, and those peculiar qualities whichan "old salt" possesses, that made him great on the quarter deck, incommand of a squadron.
Somers's admiration for the commander-in-chief of the fleet off MobileBay was of no recent origin. Since he had first known him as "FlagOfficer Farragut" at Ship Island, before the grade of Rear and ViceAdmiral had been created in our navy, he had reverenced him as asuperior man, and looked up to him with an almost superstitious awe. Hecould hardly realize that they were both of the same earthly mould, withthe like human hopes and aspirations. Though, for a young man of hisage, Somers regarded his rank of master as very high, it did not permithim to abate one jot or tittle of the distance which lay between him andthe admiral. He did not feel any better entitled to tread the same deckwith the glorious old hero, as a master, than he did as an ordinaryseaman.
Somers returned to active duty as soon as he had reported to the firstlieutenant of the Chatauqua, and he had the deck in the first dog watchon the day of his arrival. During the afternoon watch he had had plentyof time to report the incidents of his cruise in the Ben Nevis. Mr.Hackleford had immediately communicated to the captain the factsconcerning Pillgrim's letter, and the recreant lieutenant's papers hadbeen carefully overhauled in search of anything which would shed a rayof light upon the statements of the strange letter.
The only document which looked at all hopeful was a note written incipher, to which there was no key among the papers. If the communicationhad been in Chinese or Chaldaic, there might have been a chance ofunravelling it; as it was, the note was written in arbitrary characters,which were as cabalistic and unintelligible as the Egyptianhieroglyphics. Somers was annoyed and discomfited, for he hadconfidently reckoned upon finding some letter which contained a hint toguide him. There was nothing but this note in cipher.
To add to his chagrin, Mr. Hackleford was utterly sceptical in regard toPillgrim's letter--did not believe the first word of it--called it"gas," and declared that it would be stupid and childish to pay theleast attention to the document. Captain Cascabel fully concurred withhim in this opinion, and both of them laughed at Somers for bestowing asecond thought upon it.
"Nonsense! Mr. Somers!" exclaimed the first lieutenant. "There isn't asingle scintillation of truth in the story. If there were even aglimmering of reality in the thing, I would look into it."
"But Mr. Pillgrim told me some truth in regard to the Ben Nevis," arguedSomers.
"That is the best reason in the world for believing he has not done soin this instance," said Mr. Hackleford.
"I suppose I must give up the idea, then."
"You must, indeed. If you don't, I am afraid your reputation for commonsense and good judgment will suffer."
"Will you allow me to take this letter in cipher, and keep it tillto-morrow?" asked Somers.
"Certainly."
Somers took the letter, and put it into his pocket until he had anopportunity to study its mystic characters. He was mortified by therebuff he had received, but his faith, though somewhat shaken, was notdestroyed. He was officer of the deck from four till six. Just before hewas relieved, he ordered the side to be manned to receive the captain,who was just returning from a visit to the flag-ship.
As he touched his cap to Captain Cascabel, he noticed a smile on hiscommander's face, which seemed to relate to him, and he blushed beneaththe pleasant, but expressive glance bestowed upon him.
"Mr. Somers," said the captain.
The officer of the deck stepped forward, and saluted the commanderagain.
"You are invited to dine with Admiral Farragut to-morrow afternoon."
"I, sir!" exclaimed Somers, completely overwhelmed by this remarkabledeclaration.
"Rear Admiral Farragut presents his compliments to Mr. Somers, and wouldbe happy to see him at dinner to-morrow, on board the Hartford."
The captain passed on to the companion-way, leading to his cabin,leaving Somers as bewildered as though he had been invited to dine withQueen Victoria, Louis Napoleon, and the Emperor of Russia; indeed, heregarded it as a much greater honor to dine with "Brave Old Salt," thanto put his feet under the mahogany of the mightiest crowned head of theworld. It was evident that somebody had been talking to the admiralabout him; the captain and the first lieutenant of the Chatauquacertainly felt kindly enough towards him to do so.
To dine with Admiral Farragut! That was glory enough for a lifetime; orat least to be deemed worthy of such a distinction. Our friend Somerswas no snob; he "looked up" to great people, especially to those whowere really great. He pretended to no familiarity with his superiors,though some of the officers were dying with envy at the notice taken ofhim by the captain and first lieutenant of the ship. He did not assumeto be familiar with men who had won a deathless fame in defending theircountry's cause. Perhaps there was not an officer in the fleet who wouldso highly appreciate such a compliment as that of which he was now thehappy recipient.
When he was relieved from the deck, and went down into the ward-room,the news had gone before him, and the "idlers" there congratulated himupon his rising fame. But Somers broke away from them as soon as hecould decently do so, and shut himself up in his state-room. He wasactually dizzy at the idea of sitting down at the table with "Brave OldSalt" in the cabin of the Hartford; and though he took the cabalisticnote of Mr. Pillgrim from his pocket, at least half an hour was wastedbefore he could apply his mind undividedly to the difficult problembefore him. Finally, the hope of making a grand revelation to theadmiral on the morrow fired his zeal to such a pitch that the worklooked like play to him.
Somers opened the mysterious document and spread it out on the desk, atwhich he seated himself. It looked dark and hopeless, with its dots anddashes, its horizontals and perpendiculars, its curves and crosses. Wepresent the note in full, that our readers may be able to appreciate thedifficulty of the task he had undertaken.
If Somers had been a student of the occult sciences, he might have beenmore hopeful. An hour's hard study brought a gleam of light. He thoughtthe note must be signed by Langdon. There were seven letters in thesignature. This was his first ray of hope. He then placed all theletters of the alphabet in a column, and against each made the characterthat represented it in the cipher. Six letters were thus interpreted.
The next step was to place each of the letters thus discovered over itssign in the note. The second and third words of the epistle then stood,the eights being for undiscovered letters, as follows: 88nxlo8ond.
"Ben Lomond!" exclaimed Somers, as he gave a smart rap on the desk toindicate his joy at the discovery.
Three more letters were gained, and the oblique cross was only a mark todivide the words. The three letters before Ben Lomond must be, t h e.The solution began to be easy, though it required a long time to reachit. At midnight, when he was called to take the mid watch, he had itwritten out as follows:--
_Washington, Twentieth of June._
_The Ben Lomond is at Mobile, fitting out. Mallory gives you thecommand. The forts will be attacked by the first of August. You must gether out before that time._
_LANGDON._
