Julius obeyed, but this time he produced a twenty-dollar piece.
"Go on. Pull out some more," said Marcy.
"Dat's all," replied the boy. "When de bag bus' you and ole Morris pick up all but two, and dere dey is."
Marcy remembered now, although he might never have thought of it again, how startled he was when one of the little bags in which his mother's treasure was packed became untied in his hand, and the gold pieces rattled down upon the hard floor of the cellar. The coachman, who was working with him, was prompt to extinguish the lantern, while Marcy alternately groped for the money and sat up on his knees and listened for the sound of footsteps on the floor overhead. It seemed to him that all in the house ought to have been aroused by the racket, but when he became satisfied that such was not the case, the lantern was again lighted and the work went on. He thought he had picked up all the pieces, but it seemed he hadn't. And where was the boy Julius when this happened? That was a point that could be cleared up at some future time; but just now Marcy wanted to talk about something else.
"Where were you when those robbers came into the house?" he inquired."Were you in bed!"
"Oh, no, sar; I wasn't in bed," replied Julius.
"Where were you?"
"I was out dar," said the boy, giving his head a circular nod, so as to include nearly all the points of the compass at once.
"Out where?"
"Jest out dar in de bresh."
"Julius," said Marcy, getting upon his feet, "are you going to answer me or not?"
"Oh, yes sar," exclaimed the boy, backing off a step or two. "I going answer ebery question you ax me. I was jest out in de gyarden."
"What were you doing out there at that time of night?"
"Nuffin, sar."
"Did you see the robbers come into the house?"
"Yes, sar; I done seed 'em come in."
"Then what did you do?"
"I jest went 'round out dar."
"And did you see those other masked men, who came in and rescued us from the power of the robbers?"
"Yes, sar, I seed dem too," replied Julius, becoming interested. "And I done tol' 'em to come in quick."
"Did you know they were out there in the garden?"
"Yes, sar; I knowed it."
"Who told you they were there?"
"Nobody."
"Julius," said Marcy sternly, "I am going to know all about this. I shall give you no peace until you answer every one of my questions, and I shall begin by putting a grubbing-hoe into your hands at daylight in the morning. Have you any more money in your pockets?"
"No, sar; I gib you de lastest I got."
"Then hurry off to bed and be ready to go to work when I call you."
"Well, sar, Marse Marcy," said the boy, plunging his hands into his pockets and swinging himself about the room as if he was in no particular hurry to go to bed, "if you wuk Julius till he plum dead you can't make him tell what he don't know."
At this juncture a new actor appeared upon the scene. It was old Morris, who had been in the hall for the last five minutes, waiting as patiently as he could for Julius to give him an opportunity to speak to Marcy and his mother in private. His patience was pretty well exhausted by this time, and when he saw that Julius had no intention of going away until he got ready, the coachman stepped into the room.
"See here, niggah," he began, and that was enough. Julius knew the old man, and when the latter pointed to the door he lost no time in going out of it. Morris followed him to the end of the hall and closed and locked that door behind him, and then came back to the sitting-room. He was badly frightened, and so excited that he hardly knew what he was doing, but he was laughing all over.
"How is you, missus?" said he, as he shut the door and backed up against it.
"Morris," exclaimed Mrs. Gray, "do you know who the robbers were?"
"No, missus, I don't; but I does know that they don't 'long around in dis part of the country. That Cap'n Beardsley, he brung 'em up from Newbern."
"Do you know what you are saying?" demanded Marcy. "Who told you that improbable story?"
"G'long now, honey," answered Morris good-naturedly. "Mebbe de niggahs all fools, but they know a heap. Marse Marcy, dat gal Nance didn't tell no lie when she say how that Allison and Goodwin boy come to Miss Brown's house and talk about de money, did she? And she didn't say no lie nudder when she tol' me that these men coming up here some night to get that money, did she? Aint they done been here dis night? What for the cap'n and all the rest of dem white trash gone to the Island this night? Kase they don't want to be here when the thing happen."
"Did you know that the robbers were to come here to-night?"
"No, sar, Marse Marcy. I didn't know that. I know they was coming some night."
"Well, some one must have known that they had made up their minds to come to-night and told the Union men to be on the watch for them," said Marcy.
"That's a fac'," assented Morris.
"Who was it?"
"I—I don't know, sar; 'fore the Lawd——"
"Morris!" said Mrs. Gray reproachfully.
"Yes, missus; I does know, but I don't want to tell."
"That is more like it," said Marcy. "What is the reason you don't want to tell?"
"Kase I don't want to get nobody in trouble with Cap'n Beardsley," replied the coachman; and he might as well have told the full particulars, for Marcy and his mother knew that they had one of the captain's own servants to thank for their rescue.
"And does Julius know all these things?"
"Ye-yes, sar," exclaimed Morris, becoming so angry that he could not talk half as fast as he wanted to. "Dat niggah all the time snooping around, and you nebber know when he aint hear all you saying."
"He knows that you and I removed that money," said Marcy. "He was somewhere about when that bag became untied, and here are two pieces that he picked up after we left the cellar."
Old Morris was profoundly astonished. He leaned heavily against the door, and gazed at the glittering coins in Marcy's hand as if he had been deprived of the power of speech.
"Julius also knew that those Union men—I don't know any other name to give to those who turned the tables on the robbers—were out there in the garden, and he told them to hurry up," continued Marcy. "Now, where were you at the time?"
"Marse Marcy," said Morris, recovering himself with an effort, "you had best sell that niggah, kase if you don't Ise bound to kill him."
"You will be careful not to touch him," said Mrs. Gray. "It is not your place to discipline any one."
"But, missus, you don't know that niggah," began Morris.
"We know that he was brave enough to send those men to our rescue, while you were too badly frightened to do anything to help us," said Marcy.
"I couldn't be two places," protested Morris. "I was in the stable looking out for the hosses. There's whar I belong."
"Did you see them when they took their prisoners away? And was that poor fellow who was knocked down by the chandelier very badly injured?" inquired Mrs. Gray.
"Pore fellow!" repeated the coachman. "No, he wasn't bad hurt. They jest chuck him in the hoss trough and he come back to his right mind mighty quick."
"I hope they did not abuse him?"
"No, missus; dey didn't 'buse him at all. They jest say 'Come along here! We fix you.' And that's all they done."
"And you did not see what became of him and the others?"
Morris replied that he watched the rescuers and their prisoners from the stable door until they disappeared in the darkness, and that was all he knew about them. And we may add that that was all any one in that house ever knew about them. Although Marcy Gray afterward became acquainted with all the men who had taken an active part in this night's work, and daily mingled with them, he never learned what they did with their captives. Indeed he never inquired, for he was afraid that he might hear something unpleasant if he did.
"If you have told all you have on your mind you can go back to bed," said Marcy, after a little pause.
"That's all," answered Morris. "I wish you a very good evening, sar—you and the missus." And he passed into the hall, closing the door behind him. Marcy waited until he heard the outer door shut, and then he walked over and took a look at the fallen chandelier.
"Wouldn't Beardsley be hopping if he knew that one of his own negroes had upset his plans?" said he. "I really believe he would be the death of that girl Nancy. Julius is wide awake, but I do wish he would not keep so much to himself, and that I could place more dependence on what he says."
"But you do not mean to put him to work?" said his mother.
"Oh, no; and the rascal knows it. He would not stay in the field two minutes without some one to watch him, and he is of use about the house. Now, go and get some sleep, mother, and I will see that things are secure."
Once more Marcy made the rounds of the building, and this time he did not find things just as they ought to be. He found how the robbers had effected an entrance. They had cut a hole through the side door so that they could reach in and turn the key in the lock and draw back the bolt. Probably Morris was hiding in the stable when they did it, too badly frightened to give the alarm; but the robbers would not have done their work entirely undisturbed if Bose had not been dead on his mat around the corner.
"If Morris and Julius knew this thing was going to happen, I do not understand why they did not warn us," said Mrs. Gray, when Marcy came back to the sitting-room.
"Because they are darkies, and darkies never do what they ought," answered Marcy. "They did not want us to be frightened until the time came, and so they stayed awake and watched while we slept. Good-night."
When Marcy went up to his room he took his pillows from the floor, and put them on the bed where they belonged. He pushed his revolvers under them, smiling grimly when he thought of the little use they had been to him when their services were really needed, turned down the lamp, and was about to throw himself upon his couch, without removing his clothes, when he heard something that had startled him once before—the noise made by a pebble striking against his window. That was the way in which Sailor Jack attracted his attention on the night he came up from Newbern, after piloting that Northern blockade runner safely into port; but who could this person be? The dread of danger, that was uppermost in his mind when he stepped to the window and opened it, gave way to indignation when he looked out and saw the boy Julius standing on the ground below.
"Look here, you imp of darkness," he exclaimed.
"Hursh, honey, hursh!" said Julius, in an excited whisper. "Go fru de hall, and look out de oder side."
"What's out there?" asked Marcy, in the same low whisper.
"Nuffin. But you go and look."
Marcy put down the window and went, knowing that it would be a waste of time to question such a fellow as Julius. When he stepped into the hall he was alarmed to see that it was lighted up so brightly by a glare which came through the wide, high window at the other end that he could distinguish the figures on the wall-paper. He reached the window in two jumps, stood there about two seconds looking toward two different points of the compass, and then faced about, and ran down the stairs.
"Mother, mother!" he exclaimed, as he rapped on her bedroom door. "Get up and tell me what to do. Here's the mischief to pay. Beardsley's house is in flames."
"O Marcy!" was all Mrs. Gray could say in reply.
"Yes. And there's a little blaze just beginning to show above the trees in the direction of Colonel Shelby's," continued Marcy.
"This is a dreadful state of affairs," said his mother.
"I believe you; but Aleck Webster told the truth, and those Union men are bricks. Jack will be tickled to death when he hears of it."
"I hope he isn't heathen enough to rejoice over any one's misfortune.But how can I tell you what to do? What do you want to do?"
"I want to know if you will be afraid to remain here with the girls while I run over there," answered Marcy.
"Certainly not. Take every one on the place, and save what you can. But,Marcy, you cannot do any work with only one hand."
"No matter. I can show my good will. I don't expect to have a chance to save anything. The house has been burning so long that the roof is about ready to tumble in. Good-by."
Marcy buttoned his coat to keep it from falling off as he ran, caught his cap from the rack as he hurried through the hall, and opened the front door to find Julius waiting for him at the foot of the steps.
"Wake up everybody!" commanded Marcy. "Tell the girls to go into the house to keep their mistress company, and bring the men over to the fire. Hurry up, now!"
Marcy ran on in the direction of the gate, and, as soon as he was out of sight, Julius whirled around and seated himself on the lower step. He sat there about five minutes, and then rose and sauntered off toward the road.
"What for I want wake up everybody?" said he to himself. "I jes aint going take no men ober to de fire to holp save de cap'n's things, when de cap'n done sick de robbers on us. Luf him take keer on he own things; dat's what I say."
Marcy was right when he told his mother that he would not be in season to assist in saving the captain's property. The roof of the house fell in about the time he reached the road, and when he ran into the yard he could do no more than follow the example of Beardsley's frightened household, and stand by and look on while the fire burned itself out. He caught one glimpse of the captain's grown-up daughter standing beside the few things that had been saved, but she straightway hid herself among the negroes, and gave him no opportunity to speak to her. He looked toward Colonel Shelby's plantation, and saw that his house, too, was so far gone that there was no possible chance of saving it. This was the important thing that Captain Beardsley forgot, and of which we spoke a short time ago. He forgot the band to which Aleck Webster belonged, or perhaps he would have contrived some way to make them believe that the man Kelsey, and not himself, was to blame for the raid that had that night been made upon Mrs. Gray's house.
"Aleck and his friends must have had the strongest kind of evidence, or they never would have done such work as this," thought Marcy, as he turned his steps homeward after satisfying himself that there was nothing he could do at the fire. "I wish I knew what that evidence is, and how all this is going to end. I wish from the bottom of my heart that the fanatics who are responsible for this state of affairs could be in my place for a few days."
"I hope you asked the captain's daughter to come over here," said Mrs.Gray, when her son entered the room in which she was sitting.
"Well, I didn't," was the reply. "I meant to, but she didn't give me a chance to say a word to her. Let her go and bunk with Mrs. Brown, and then there will be two congenial spirits together."
By this time it was getting well on toward morning, and sleep being quite out of the question, Marcy and his mother sat up and talked until breakfast was announced. The burden of their conversation, and the inquiry which they propounded to each other in various forms, was: What should they say to their neighbors regarding the events of the night? Should they tell the story of the attempted robbery, when questioned about it, or not? There were many living in the settlement who had not been taken into Beardsley's confidence, who did not know that the Union men were banded together for mutual protection, and some of them were Confederate soldiers; and what would these be likely to do if they learned that there was a little civil war in progress among their neighbors? The situation was an embarrassing one, and Marcy and his mother did not know how to manage it.
"I am a-going to trust to luck to help me out," said the boy, who had been gazing steadily into his cup of coffee as if he there hoped to find an answer to the question that had been under discussion for the last two hours. "I don't believe there will be anything done, one way or the other, until the battle that is going to be fought at Roanoke Island is decided."
"Why, Marcy?" said Mrs. Gray, in surprise. "What direct influence can a great battle have on our private affairs?"
"I thought you wouldn't fall in with my notions, but I think I am right," replied Marcy. "If the rebels win, look out for breakers. This part of the State will be overrun with soldiers, who will shoot or drive out every one who is suspected of being friendly to the old flag, and such fellows as Beardsley and Shelby and Allison will be out in full force to hie them on. If the Federals win, as I hope they may, and occupy the Island and Plymouth and other points about here, our stay-at-home rebels will crawl into their holes, and you will not hear a cheep from them."
"But all that is in the future," said Mrs. Gray.
"And what we want to know is how to conduct ourselves to-day," addedMarcy. "I know that, and, as I said before. I am going to trust to luck.I can tell better what to say after I have mingled for a few minuteswith the crowd I shall meet at the post-office."
"Do any of the Union men ever go there?" inquired Mrs. Gray.
"I have seen Webster there once or twice, but as to the rest, I cannot say; for I do not know them."
"I shouldn't think they would go there for fear of being arrested."
"Who is there to arrest them?"
"I don't know; but I suppose the postmaster could bring a squad of soldiers from Plymouth, could he not?"
"Yes, but he would have to bring another squad to watch his house and store after the one that made the arrest went away," answered Marcy. "If the Nashville people attempt to manage this thing themselves, I am afraid their town will go up in smoke."
Going to the post-office, on this particular morning, was one of the hardest tasks the boy had ever set for himself. He wished he could hit upon some good excuse for sending Morris in his place, and indeed the old fellow offered to go when he brought up Marcy's horse, adding:
"I'm jubus that they will ask you a heap of questions that you won't want to answer. They won't say nothing to Morris, kase a pore niggah never knows nothing."
"I've got to face them some time, and it might as well be to-day as next week," replied Marcy, slipping into the coachman's hand one of the gold pieces that Julius had given him the night before. "Let Julius entirely alone, and the next time you hear of any plans being laid against us, don't keep us in ignorance. Come to us at once, so that we may know what we have to expect."
"Thank you kindly, sar," said Morris, taking off his hat. "I'll bear that in mind; but you see, Marse Marcy, I didn't want for to pester you and your maw. I was on the watch."
"But you were frightened to death, and that little imp Julius was the one who helped us," thought Marcy, as he swung himself into the saddle, with the coachman's assistance, and rode away. "Well, I was frightened myself, but I couldn't run and hide."
When Marcy came to Beardsley's gate, he thought it would be a neighborly act for him to ride in and ask if there was anything he could do for the captain's daughter; but she was not to be seen. Marcy afterward learned that she had taken up her abode with Mrs. Brown, with whom she intended to remain until her father could come home and make other arrangements for her comfort. There were a few negroes sauntering around in the neighborhood of the smoking ruins, and among them was the girl Nancy, who looked at him now and then with an expression on her face that would have endangered her life if her master could have seen and understood it. The boy was glad to turn about and ride away from the scene, for it was one that had a depressing effect upon him.
"Beardsley brought it upon his own head," was what he told himself over and over again, but without finding any consolation in the thought. "It is bound to make him worse than he was before—it would make me worse if I were in his place—and nobody knows what he will spring on us next."
As Marcy had expected, his arrival at the hitching-rack in front of the post-office was the signal for which Tom Allison, Mark Goodwin, and a few others like them had been waiting. They opened the door and ran across the street in a body, highly excited of course, and all talking at once.
"What happened out your way last night?" was the first question he could understand.
"Fire," was the reply. "Didn't you see it?"
"You're right, I did," said Tom.
"Then why didn't you come out?" inquired Marcy. "I didn't see you or any other white man about there."
"I'll bet you didn't," exclaimed Goodwin. "When two houses owned by prominent men, and standing a mile and a half apart, get on fire almost at the same moment in the dead hour of night——"
"And while their owners are absent from home," chimed in Tom.
"And while their owners are away from home on business," added Mark, "it means something, doesn't it? We stayed pretty close about our hearth-stones, I bet you, for we didn't know how soon our own buildings might get a-going. Where were you when it happened?"
"I was at home, where you were," replied Marcy.
"And wasn't your house set too?"
Marcy said it was not; or if it was he hadn't found it out.
"That's mighty strange," remarked one of the group who had not spoken before.
"What is strange?" demanded Marcy. "Explain yourself."
"Why, if there was a band of marauders about, as every one seems to think," said the boy——
"Well, there was," interrupted Marcy. "They came to our house, and made preparations to hang me up by the neck, when the——"
"Oh, get out!" exclaimed Allison and Goodwin in concert.
Marcy had pushed his hat on the back of his head and squared himself to tell the story of his adventure; but when these words fell upon his ear, he put his hands into his pockets and started for the post-office.
"Hold on," cried Tom, catching at his arm. "Don't go off that way. Tell us all about it."
"I will, if you will ride home with me so that I can prove my story," said Marcy. "When you see the chandelier that was pulled out of its place in the ceiling by the rope——"
"Were you hanging to the rope when it pulled out?" exclaimed the impatient boys.
"No. If I had been I would have a broken head now. One of the robbers put his weight upon the rope to see if it would hold me up, when the thing came down on his head and knocked him senseless."
"Well now, I am beat! Did they go off without getting any money?" inquired Tom, who would not have asked the question if he had been in a calmer mood.
"They certainly did. They never took a cent."
"And they didn't fire your house afterward?"
"Not that we know of. Our house is standing this morning."
"Who were the robbers?"
"That's a conundrum to give up," replied Marcy. "All I know is that they were white men who had made a bungling attempt to disguise themselves as negroes; but they did not put black enough on their hands and faces."
Tom Allison looked at his friend Mark, and when he moved away Mark followed him. As soon as they were beyond ear-shot of the rest of the group, Tom said:
"Let's shake those fellows, and wait for a chance to speak to Marcy alone. What do you think you make of the situation just as it stands?"
"I don't make anything of it," answered Mark. "I can't see through it, and I don't believe Marcy told the truth."
"I do. In the first place he is not given to lying, and besides he asked us to go home with him. He wouldn't have done that if he had been telling us a funny story. I believe Beardsley sent those robbers to Mrs. Gray's house and then took himself off so that he could say he wasn't at home when the robbery was committed, just as Marcy and Jack could say they were not at home when their overseer was abducted."
"There may be something in that," said Mark reflectively. "But the captain made a mighty poor selection when he took men who permitted themselves to be scared away by the breaking down of a chandelier. A brave lot of fellows they were."
"But perhaps that wasn't what frightened them away," said Tom. "How do you account for the burning of Beardsley's house and Shelby's, while Gray's was allowed to stand?"
"I don't account for it. It is quite beyond me."
"You don't think those robbers set the buildings on fire?"
"It isn't likely, when they were in Beardsley's employ. Still they might have done it to revenge themselves for the loss of the money they expected to find in Mrs. Gray's house."
"They might, but I don't believe they did. Have you forgotten what was in the letter Beardsley received while he was in Newbern?"
"By gracious, Tom! You don't think——"
"Yes, I do. They said they would jump on him if he didn't stop persecuting Union people, and they have done it. The men who wrote that letter were the men who burned those houses."
"Tom, you frighten me. I'll tell you what's a fact, old fellow: You and I made a big mistake in calling on that old gossip Mrs. Brown. We didn't get a thing out of her beyond what we knew when we went there, and I'm going to keep clear of that shanty of hers in future. It may be your father's turn next, or mine."
"That is what I am afraid of," said Tom honestly. "And that is the reason I want to hang around and see Marcy alone—to ask if he saw anything of those Union men last night."
Marcy remained in the post-office for nearly half an hour, for he was surrounded by an excited and anxious group there, and plied with the same questions he had been called on to answer outside; but about the time that Allison and his companion were becoming so impatient that they were on the point of going in after him, he came out with his mail in his hand, and, what was a comfort to them, he came alone.
"Are you two going to ride out with me?" said Marcy, when he reached the hitching-rack, where they were waiting for him.
"We may go out some day, but not for proof," replied Tom. "What would be the use, when we know that you told us nothing but the truth? But, Marcy, you don't mean to say that those robbers were frightened from their work by the simple breaking down of the chandelier?"
"Oh, no; they had better reasons than that for letting us alone," replied the boy, who knew that he might as well tell the whole story himself as to leave them to hear it from somebody else. "A moment or so after the chandelier came down on the head of one of the robbers, a party of armed and masked men came into the room and rescued us."
It was right in the point of Tom Allison's tongue to say to Mark, "Didn't I tell you so?" but he caught his breath in time, and tried to look surprised. "Who were they?" he managed to ask.
"Didn't I say they were all masked?" inquired Marcy.
"Well, they said something, didn't they."
"They spoke about half a dozen words."
"And didn't you recognize their voices?"
"I did not. Let Mark put his handkerchief over his mouth and speak to you, and see if you can recognize his voice."
"But haven't you an idea who they were?"
"You know as much about them as I do," answered Marcy; and he knew by the expression of astonishment that came upon Tom's face that he had hit the nail squarely on the head.
"How do you explain the burning of those two houses?" inquired Mark.
"In the same way that I explain the raid that was made upon our house.The men who were responsible for one were responsible for the other."
"You don't mean to say that the robbers did it!" exclaimed Tom.
"I mean to say that they were the cause of it. If you won't ride with meI shall have to say good-by."
"What do you think now?" asked Tom, as he and Mark stood watchingMarcy's filly spatter the mud along the road.
"I hate to say what I think," was Mark's reply. "I'm sorry to say it, but it is a fact that that villain holds every dollar's worth of property in this county between his thumb and finger."
"Well, he shall not hold it there forty-eight hours longer," saidAllison savagely.
"How are you going to help it?"
"By writing a note to the commanding officers at Plymouth and Roanoke, and telling them what sort of a fix we are in," replied Tom.
"Don't you do it!" cried Mark. "Don't think of it, for if you do you will see worse times here than you ever dreamed of. If you are not hanged to one of the trees on the common you will be driven out of the country."
Wait a few minutes, and we will tell you whether or not Mark Goodwin had reason to be frightened at Tom's reckless words.
Marcy Gray had passed through the ordeal he so much dreaded, and was as well satisfied with the way he had come out of it as he had hoped to be. Of one thing he was certain: every person to whom he had spoken that morning was suspicious of him, but that was no more than he expected. Some people in Nashville believed that he had not only instigated but ordered the destruction of Beardsley's house and Shelby's, and that he could in like manner command the burning of any house in the settlement if he felt like it, and that was what he thought they would believe. He knew it wasn't so, and it troubled and vexed him to have such things laid to his charge; but how could he help it, and what single thing had he done to bring it about?
"Heaven knows I wish they would let us alone," was what Marcy said to himself as he galloped along the road, "but I'll not stand by and see my mother worried and tormented without doing something to stop it; and if Beardsley or Shelby or anybody else tries it on, I will have him punished for it if I can."
Just then a low but shrill whistle, sounding from the woods which came down close to the road on the left hand, attracted Marcy's attention and caused him to draw rein gradually and bring his horse to a stand-still. He pulled a paper from his pocket, and while pretending to read, looked sideways toward the woods, and saw Aleck Webster making his way up through the bushes. You will remember that these two once held a short private interview at this very spot.
"Good-morning, sir," was Aleck's greeting. "We didn't like to break up your night's rest, but I suppose we did."
"You may safely say that," answered Marcy. "We never slept a wink, or even tried to, after we saw that Beardsley's house was on fire. My mother and I are sorry you did that. After you had rescued us, why couldn't you go away satisfied?"
"And let the same thing happen again?" exclaimed Aleck. "I suppose you know that Beardsley was to blame for the robbers coming to your house?"
"We don't know it, but we think so," replied Marcy.
"We had as strong evidence as we needed that he meant to do that very thing, and when he was ready to spring his plans, he found us waiting for him. Perhaps you don't know it, but your house has been watched every night for a week past."
"I wish I could find words to thank you," began Marcy.
"Belay that, if you please, sir," said Aleck hastily. "We are helping ourselves while we are looking out for you. You are Mr. Jack Gray's brother, and that is enough for me to know. Our letter brought the cap'n home in a tolerable hurry, and ought to have been a warning to him to keep still after he got here. Perhaps he will see now that we meant what we said to him."
"I certainly hope he will, for I don't want to see any more of his buildings destroyed. I suppose you had reason to connect Colonel Shelby with Beardsley's schemes?"
"You're right, we did. He was knowing to them and didn't try to stop them, and so we thought we'd best tell him not to go too far. They thought, if they left home for a spell, we would not blame them, but we were onto them all the same. They can't make a move or do a thing that we don't know it."
Marcy wanted much to ask what means Aleck and his friends used to keep themselves so well informed; who those friends were and how many there were of them; but on second thought he decided that the best thing he could do would be to listen and say nothing. He would have been glad to know what had been done with the four prisoners the rescuing party carried away with them; but as Aleck did not once refer to them, Marcy contented himself with asking about the wounded one.
"Was the man who was knocked down very much hurt?" said he.
"Oh, no. He came around all right in a few minutes," answered Aleck; and then, as if to show Marcy that he did not intend to say more on that subject, he hastened to add, "My object in stopping you was to inquire if you are satisfied with the way I have kept the promise I made Mr. Jack. I told him I would always stand his friend, and yours. You don't often get letters from him, I suppose?"
"Not often," replied Marcy, with a smile. "The mail does not run regularly between our house and the Yankee fleet."
"No, I reckon not; but if you get a chance to write to him, tell him what I have told you."
"Look here, Aleck," said Marcy suddenly. "Do the members of your band ever hang about the post-office? I know I have seen you there a few times."
"Of course; and you will, no doubt, see me there again. We have to go among people to keep suspicion away from us."
"That's what I thought," continued Marcy. "Now, are you not afraid that some one will bring soldiers there to make prisoners of you?"
"No, I don't think they will," said Aleck indifferently. "If the soldiers should come, there are men in that town who would run so fast to meet and send them back, that you couldn't see them for the mud they would kick up in the road."
"You mean that they would not permit the soldiers to molest you?"
"They wouldn't, if they could help it, for they know their town would be destroyed if they did," replied Aleck; and Marcy was frightened by the spiteful emphasis he threw into his words. "They will be sorry enough, before we are done with them, that they ever tried to break up this government. We want peace and quiet, and we're going to have 'em, if we have to hang every rebel in the country."
This was what we meant when we said, at the close of the last chapter, that we should soon see whether or not Mark Goodwin had reason to be alarmed by Tom Allison's reckless proposition. It seemed that every contingency had been thought of and provided for by the long-headed Union men who held secret meetings in the swamp, and that, if Allison possessed ordinary common sense, he would not say a word to the commanding officers at Plymouth and Roanoke regarding the situation in and around Nashville. Marcy did not like to hear the stalwart young sailor talk in this savage strain, so he switched him off on another track, by saying:
"I want to ask one other question before I forget it: Were you the man who nodded to me last night, when you and your friends came in, and saved me from a choking?"
"I reckon so; and I was the one who got your revolvers back for you. They didn't do you much good, did they? That little nig of yours is as sharp as they make 'em. Didn't he tell you who we were?"
"He gave us to understand that he didn't know."
"That was all right. It shows that he can be trusted to keep his mouth shut. But, I am afraid, if we don't quit talking, somebody will ask you what you found in your paper that was so mighty interesting; so good-by. Don't be alarmed on account of Beardsley and the rest. I have a notion that the fear of punishment will make them let you and every other Union man about here alone after this."
Aleck disappeared among the bushes, and Marcy rode on with his eyes still fixed upon his newspaper; but he did not see a word in it. He was thinking of the Union men, who had showed themselves brave enough to punish their enemies almost under the noses of two strong Confederate garrisons.
"They are a desperate lot, whoever they are," was his mental reflection, "and I would rather have them on my side than against me. What will be the next thing on the programme?"
There was not much work accomplished on the plantation that day, for the excited negroes, some of whom did not know a thing about the raid of the previous night until it was over, had too much talking to do among themselves, and with Morris and Julius, who held their heads high and threw on airs because they had been prominent actors in the thrilling scenes that took place in Mrs. Gray's sitting-room. Julius thought himself of so much consequence that it was all Marcy could do to persuade him to give the dead Bose a decent burial, and then he was obliged to go with him to see that the task was well done. But he was not as impatient with the black boy as he would have been if Aleck Webster had not spoken so well of him. They had visitors, too; and Marcy knew that their object in coming was not to sympathize with his mother and denounce the "outrage" as they called it, but to gain her good will if they could. As Marcy bluntly expressed it—"They would not come near us if they thought we were friendless and helpless, but they know we are not, and so they want to get on our blind side." They fairly "gushed" over the Confederate flag that was hung upon the wall of the sitting-room, but when they went away they told one another that that banner did not express Mrs. Gray's honest sentiments, and that it would not protect her or her property for one minute if the Richmond authorities would only yield to the importunities of General Wise, and send a strong force to occupy Roanoke Island and the surrounding country. If that time ever came, the general's attention should be called to the fact that one of the sons of that house was a sailor in the Yankee navy.
After another almost sleepless night Marcy Gray rode again to the post-office, to find there the same talkative, indignant, do-nothing crowd he had long been accustomed to meet at mail time. This morning, if such a thing were possible, they were more excited and angry than they had been the day before; but they did not fail to meet Marcy at the hitching-rack, or to talk to him as though they looked upon him as one of themselves. He noticed that they all held papers in their hands.
"This thing is going to be stopped now, I bet you," said Mark Goodwin, who was the first to speak.
"Do you mean the war?" inquired Marcy. "If you do, I am heartily glad to hear the news."
"I mean the war right around here," answered Mark. "It's got into the Newbern papers, and they are giving us fits on account of it. They say it serves us just right."
"What does?"
"Why, having our houses burned and—and all that."
"Do they say anything about robbery?" asked Marcy. "Or about threatening to pull a law-abiding boy up by the neck because he does not happen to have a pocketful of money with him?"
"No," replied Mark, rather indignantly; and then, seeing by the curious smile on Marcy's face that he had spoken too quickly, he added, "I suppose of course that they do say something about that outrage, but I can't tell for certain, for I have only had time to read what my papers say concerning the burning of Beardsley's house and Shelby's."
"Probably they don't refer to the way those four villains conducted themselves in my mother's house," said Marcy, in a tone of contempt. "It's altogether too insignificant a thing to have travelled as far as the city of Newbern."
"It isn't, either!" exclaimed Tom Allison, glaring savagely at Marcy. "Nothing is too insignificant to attract attention these times. My paper says—but there it is. Read it for yourself."
"Thank you; I can't stop," answered Marcy, moving toward the office."I'll get my own, and read it on the way home."
Contrary to his expectations he did not find a very belligerent crowd in there. The space between the counters was filled with men, and they were all talking at once; but they had learned wisdom by past experience, and however much they might have desired to threaten somebody, they were careful not to do it. They denounced Yankees and their sympathizers in a general way, and declared that it was a cowardly piece of business to burn houses while their owners were absent, but they did not mention any names. Marcy loitered about until he found that he was not going to hear anything more than he had heard a score of times before, and then mounted his horse and set out for home. Dropping the reins upon his filly's neck and allowing her to choose her own gait, he drew his Newbern paper from his pocket, and began looking for the article of which Mark Goodwin had spoken. He could not run amiss of it, for the black headlines were too prominent. They took up more than half the column, and after Marcy had run his eye over a few of the leading ones, he had a very good idea of the article itself. He read: "A Reign of Terror.—Civil War Inaugurated in a Sovereign State. —Cowardly Citizens Who Allow a Handful of Traitors to Work their Sweet Will of Them.—Armed and Masked Incendiaries Abroad at Night."
"There now!" exclaimed Marcy, when he read the last line. "That is as good proof as I want that the man who wrote this knew the whole story. Mother and I were the only white persons who saw those men, and nobody would have known that they were armed and masked if I hadn't said so. I'll bet you the paper doesn't say a word concerning the 'cowardly citizen' who sent those robbers to our house."
Swallowing his indignation as well as he could, Marcy turned his attention to the article, which ran as follows:
"We have learned, from what we think to be reliable sources, that a reign of terror exists in certain portions of this Commonwealth that is a burning shame and a disgrace to the cowards who permit it. They claim to be loyal Southern gentlemen up there, but they will have to furnish better proof than they have thus far given before we will believe it. When the gallant Wise was placed in command of this district in December last, Secretary Benjamin desired him to bring his legion up to 10,000 strong by recruiting in North Carolina. There was reason for this order, and for anxiety regarding Roanoke and adjacent points, because as early as September, 1861, General McClellan requested the Yankee Secretary of War 'to organize two brigades of five regiments each of New England men, for the general service, but particularly adapted to coast service.' That means that he intended to turn a horde of red-hot abolitionists and nigger-lovers loose upon our almost defenceless shores. Wise saw and realized the danger, tried hard to obey Secretary Benjamin's order, and failed; and now we know the reason why. How could he make brave soldiers out of men who will permit armed and masked traitors to ride about their county of nights, wreaking vengeance upon those who are so unfortunate as to incur their displeasure? While we deeply sympathize with Messrs. Shelby and Beardsley, whose dwellings were burned last night, and wish that the incendiaries might have chosen some less out-spoken and liberal citizens as their victims, we are constrained to say that the lesson that community has received is well deserved. Now let them arouse and stamp this lawlessness out with an iron heel; and let us warn those Union men in the same breath, and all others who feel disposed to follow in their lead, that their day will be a short one. They will not be driven from the country they will be hunted down like dogs, and hanged to the nearest tree. They will not be shot. That is the death the loyal soldier dies, but we save the rope for traitors."
"The editor's pen was so mad it stuttered when it wrote this rambling article," thought Marcy. "It couldn't talk straight. If he owned about fifty thousand dollars' worth of houses in these parts, he would not write so glibly about hanging Union men. Now, let us see what sort of language he used in denouncing the raid that was made upon our house."
He looked the paper through without finding any reference to it, but that was no more than he expected. The outrages of every description that were perpetrated upon Union people during the days of the war, by "loyal Southern gentlemen," were of so common occurrence, and of so little consequence besides, that they were never mentioned in the newspapers. The oft-expressed verdict was that Unionists had no rights that any white man was bound to respect.
"If our house had been burned and everybody in it hanged, this rebel sheet would not have said a word against it." thought Marcy, shoving the paper into his pocket and starting up his horse. "Mark Goodwin says that these things have got to be stopped now, which means that Beardsley and Shelby will set something else afoot as soon as they return from the Island. Now, let us see what it will be. Shall I show this paper to mother, or not?"
This was the question that Marcy pondered during his ride, and the conclusion he came to was that his mother had as much right to know the worst as he had to know it himself; so he handed out the paper as soon as he reached home, and rode on to the field to see how his small force was getting on with the work he had assigned it.
Then came several days of suspense that were hard to bear. Beardsley and Shelby came home as soon as they heard of the loss they had sustained, but what they had to say, and what they made up their minds to do about it, never came to Marcy's ears. They did not take the trouble to call upon Mrs. Gray. Evidently they did not think it worth while, because she could not restore to them the property they had lost; but others, who had roofs that they wanted to keep over their heads, came every day or two, although they did not bring much news that was worth hearing. About all Marcy learned was that Beardsley and his companion had returned filled with martial ardor, that they were working night and day to send recruits to Roanoke Island, although they did not show any signs of going back there themselves. They declared that the Island was as strong as Gibraltar, and if the Yankees were foolish enough to send an expedition against it, there wouldn't be a man of them left to tell the story of the fight; and they wanted all the youngsters in the country to go there and enlist, so that they could be able to say that they had assisted in winning the most glorious victory of modern times. They were very enthusiastic themselves, and they made some others so; but Marcy Gray, who kept a close watch of all that went on in the settlement, did not see more than a dozen young men and boys fall in in response to their earnest appeals.
"It's a disgraceful state of affairs," said Tom Allison one morning, when Marcy met him at the post-office. "The Southern people deserve to be whipped, they are so lacking in patriotism."
"Did you ever think of going into the army yourself?" inquired Marcy.
"I can't go," replied Tom. "We have sent our overseer, and that is as much as we can do at present. I wanted to enlist weeks ago, but father said I must stay at home and help him manage the place."
Marcy found it hard to keep from laughing outright when Tom said this. The latter had never done a day's work at overseeing or anything else, and it is doubtful if he could have told whether or not a corn furrow was laid off straight. He was too indolent to do anything but eat, sleep, and ride about the country.
"There are plenty around here who could go as well as not," continued Tom, "and I might go myself if I could only get a commission. But I won't go as a private soldier."
"Have you tried to get a commission?" asked Marcy.
Tom replied that he had not. He did not know how to go about it, and was not acquainted with any one who could tell him.
"Then hunt up General Wise, and ask his advice," suggested Marcy. "He can, and no doubt will put you on the right track at once."
But Tom Allison was much too sharp to do a thing like that. He was well aware that enlisted men had no love for "cits" who could go into the army and wouldn't, and the promise of a colonel's commission would not have induced him to go among them. He meant to remain at home and let other and poorer men's sons do the fighting, and Marcy knew it all the while.
The latter did not put much faith in the stories that Captain Beardsley and Colonel Shelby had spread through the country, and when his mother's negroes began coming home in companies of twos and threes, he put still less faith in them. They were a sorry-looking lot, ragged and dirty; and the first thing they asked for as they crowded about the kitchen door was something to eat.
"Oh, missus, don't eber luf dem rebels take we uns away agin," was their constant plea. "Dey 'buse us de wust you eber see. Dey whop us, an' dey kick us, an' dey don't gib us half 'nough to eat. We all starve to def. We been prayin' night an' day dat de Yankees may come an' shoot dat place plum to pieces."
"But the trouble is that the Yankees can't do it," said Marcy, as he bustled about in search of bread and meat to satisfy the demands of the hungry blacks. "Captain Beardsley says the Island is too strong to be captured."
The negroes confessed that they did not know much about military matters, but they did know that there was much dissatisfaction among the soldiers composing the garrison, many of whom declared that they would make tracks for home as soon as their year was out, leaving the Confederacy to gain its independence in any way it pleased. The Richmond authorities would not help them, the people along the coast were too cowardly or too lazy to shoulder a musket, and they were not going to stay in the army and eat hard-tack while other able-bodied men stayed at home and lived on the fat of the land. They would do their duty until their term of enlistment expired, and then they would stand aside and give somebody else a chance to fight the Yankees. That was what a good many deluded and disappointed rebels thought and said about this time; but those who have read "Rodney, the Partisan," know how very easy it was for the Confederate authorities to bring such malcontents to their senses.
But at last the time came when at least one of these vexed questions was to be solved by a trial at arms. While the scenes we have attempted to describe were being enacted on shore, others, that were of no less interest and importance to Marcy Gray and the people who lived in and around Nashville, were transpiring on the water. On the 11th day of January a formidable military and naval expedition, consisting of more than a hundred gunboats, transports, and supply ships, set sail from Fortress Monroe. Its object was to obtain possession of Roanoke Island, which the Confederates had spent so much time and care in fortifying, and which their General Wise called "the key to all the rear defences of Norfolk." Two days later the expedition arrived off Hatteras just as a fierce northeast gale was springing up, and two days after that the Newbern papers brought the encouraging news to Nashville. We say encouraging, because there was not a man or boy in town who did not honestly believe that those hundred vessels were doomed to certain and swift destruction. As in the case of a former expedition, Tom Allison was much afraid that the wind and the waves would do the work which the gunners at Roanoke Island were anxious to do themselves.
"Oh, don't I wish this wind would go down!" was the way he greeted Marcy on the morning on which the news of the arrival of the fleet reached Nashville. "Here we've gone and worked like beavers to fortify the island, hoping and expecting to give the Yankees a Bull Run licking there, and now Old Hatteras has taken the matter out of our hands, and is pounding the expedition to pieces on the shoals. Half of the enemy's tubs have gone to smash already, and the rest will go back as soon as they can. Not one of them will ever cross the bar, I tell you."
For two weeks a furious gale raged along the coast, and, during that time, Marcy Gray lived in a state of suspense that cannot be described. He could not bring himself down to work, so he went to town twice each day, and always came back to report the loss of another ship belonging to the expedition.
"Why, Marcy, if they keep on losing vessels at this rate, there will not be any expedition left after a while," said his mother one day.
"These reports are all false," declared Marcy. "I tell them to you because they are told to me, and not because I expect you to believe them. Don't worry. Those ships are commanded by Yankees, and Yankees are the best sailors in the world."
For a time it looked as though Tom Allison's prediction would be verified; for it was only after fifteen days' struggle with the elements, and the loss of four vessels, that Burnside and his naval associate, Flag-officer Goldsborough, succeeded in passing through Hatteras Inlet to the calmer waters of Pamlico Sound. It was an exhibition of patient courage and skill on the part of the Union officers and men that astonished everybody; and even Tom Allison was willing to confess that things were getting serious. There was bound to be a terrible battle at the Island, and the citizens of Nashville would hear the guns. And if the Island should be captured, as Forts Hatteras and Clark were captured, then what? The thought was terrifying to the timid ones, who straightway hid their clothing, and began carrying the contents of their cellars, smoke-houses, and corn-cribs into the woods, as they had done when the news came that Butler and Stringham had reduced the fortifications at the Inlet; but, on this occasion, Mrs. Gray's neighbors were all so busy with their own affairs that they did not have time to run over and find fault with her because she did not hide anything.
A few days of inactivity followed, during which the fleet was repairing the damages it had received during the storm, and then a hush seemed to fall upon the whole nation as the news was flashed over it that the final struggle for the possession of those waters was about to begin. The low, swampy shores of the Sound being but sparsely settled, and nearly all the able-bodied men in the country, both white and black, having been summoned to the Island, some as soldiers and the others to work on the forts and trenches, there were few to witness the grand and imposing spectacle the fleet presented as it moved into position on the evening of February 5, and dropped anchor within a few miles of the entrance to Croatan Sound; but among those few was one who was destined to bring Marcy Gray into deeper trouble than he had ever known before, and the reader will acknowledge that that is saying a good deal. It was Doctor Patten's negro boy Jonas. He lay flat behind some obstruction near the water's edge, and took in the whole scene as if it had been a review arranged for his especial benefit. He saw the waters of the Sound splash as the heavy anchors were dropped into them, and could even hear the shrill tones of the boatswains' pipes. When darkness came and shut the nearest vessel out from his view, he scrambled to his feet and hastened toward his master's house, muttering under his breath:
"Jonas been prayin' hard fur de Yankees to come, an' bress de Lawd, here dey is! Now, what Jonas gwine do?"
Bright and early the next morning the captain of one of the twenty-seven gunboats that were attached to the Burnside expedition, came out of his cabin to take a breath of fresh air before sitting down to his breakfast. He was a large, full-bearded man, had a broad and a narrow band of gold lace around each sleeve of his coat, a lieutenant's straps on his shoulders, and wore his hands in his pockets. When he went up the ladder he lifted his cap to the quarter-deck, and was in turn saluted by the acting ensign on watch.
"Anything new or strange to tell me, Mr. Robbins?" asked the captain carelessly.
"Nothing at all, sir, except that a lone contraband came off to us in a leaky skiff, when I first took charge of the deck," was the reply.
"Does he know anything?" was the captain's next question.
"I did not interrogate him, sir, only just enough to find out that he is not a pilot."
"Perhaps he knows where we can get one, so you might as well bring him aft."
A messenger-boy was sent forward to obey this order, and presently brought to the quarter-deck the lone contraband of whom the ensign had spoken, and who was none other than Doctor Patten's boy Jonas, whom we saw watching the Union vessels from his hiding-place on the beach. The captain asked him who he was and where he belonged, what his master's politics were, and why he ran away from him and came off to the fleet, and then he said:
"You told my officer here that you are not a pilot for these waters; but you must know where I can find one. There ought to be any number of them on the mainland, for I happen to know that many of you black people make the most of your living on the water."
"Dat's a fac', moster," replied Jonas, "but I aint no pilot. Dey used to be some on de mainland, but dey aint dar now. Dey up to de forts on de Island."
"All of them?" inquired the captain. "Can't you think of a single man hereabouts who knows the channel through Croatan Sound?"
"Not about here, I can't," answered the black boy, "an' I tell you dat fur de truth. Dey is all on de Island waitin' for you uns to come wha' dey is; but dey's two back in de country a piece."
"How far back in the country, and who are they?"
"It's a right smart piece, sar; twenty mile suah, an' mebbe mo'. NameMahcy Gray an' Cap'n Beardsley, sar."
"Are they Union or secesh?"
"Well, sar, dere's Mahcy Gray, he's de best kind of a Union boy; but de other one, he's——"
"Boy!" interrupted the captain. "I don't want any boy to take charge of my ship. This is no boy's play," he added, returning the salute of his executive officer, who just then came up the ladder. "If I understand the flag-officer's plans, we are to lead one division of the fleet in the attack; and if we go on until we are aground, and the division follows in our wake, there will be the mischief to pay, for the other vessels draw more water than we do."
"Sakes alive, moster! Mahcy Gray won't nebber run you on de groun'," exclaimed the negro, with so much earnestness in his tones that the captain turned about and listened to him. "He de bes' boy fur de Union you eber see, an' he take you right fru de Sound, wid his eyes shet, on de blackest night you eber was out in. But dat rebel Beardsley you don't want no truck wid him. He know wha' de deep watah is mighty well, but he aint gwine to take you dar. He run you on de groun' suah's you live and breathe."
"Never mind talking about that. You called him captain a minute ago.What is he captain of?"
"Well, sar, moster, previous to de beginning of de wah he was cap'n ob a trader; but endurin' de wah he run a privateer an' blockade runner; deOspreyhe call her."
"What?" exclaimed the gunboat captain, so suddenly that Jonas jumped, and the executive and the officer of the deck looked surprised. "Did you call him Beardsley, and say that he commanded theOsprey?"
"Dat's de name, moster," replied Jonas. "He cotch some Yankee vessels outside, an' when de gunboats get too thick on de bar, he take de two big guns out, load up wid cotton, an' run de blockade."
"What was his object in taking the guns out?" inquired the captain; and the negro went on to explain what the reader already knows—that Beardsley had disarmed and disguised his little vessel in order to deceive the cruisers along the coast. If he had been captured with nothing but cotton on board, the Federal authorities would not be likely to hang him and his men as pirates, which they might have done if they had caught him while he had two howitzers on his gun-deck and a supply of small-arms and ammunition in his cabin. The gunboat captain listened attentively, and seemed very much impressed by what the negro had to say; and when the latter ceased speaking he turned his back upon him, and said to his executive officer:
"Mr. Watkins, I have wanted to meet that man for—for an age, it seems to me now. He is the villain who robbed me of theMary Hollins, and ironed my crew like felons—like felons, sir, and in spite of my earnest protest." Then turning once more to the negro, he inquired, "Can you guide a squad of my men to Beardsley's house and Gray's to-night? You told me, I believe, that they live twenty miles or more inland."
"Dat's about de distance of de journey you will have to travel, sar," answered Jonas.
"I kin go da', kase I know de house whar dey resides. But de cap'n don't live da' no more sense de Union men riz up in de night an' burn him out."
"I don't care how many times he has been burned out, nor who did it. What I want to know is if you can take my officers where they can put their hands on him to-night."
Yes; Jonas was quite positive he could do that.
"All right; but look here, boy," said the captain, shaking his finger atJonas. "Tell me the truth now, or you will never see another sunrise.Are there any rebels ashore between here and the place where those twopilots live?"
"Oh, yes, sar; dere's plenty of dem at Plymouth, moster."
"I am as well aware of that fact as you are," interrupted the captain. "What I want particularly to know is if there are any cavalry scouting around who would be likely to pick up the men I shall probably send ashore to-night."
"Not now, dey aint, sar; but a while ago dey was piles of dem. Dey go round to all de plantations an' tooken away de black ones en' make 'em wuk on de forts. I wuk on dem myself."
"Consequently there may be some cavalry out there now," said the captain. "But I warn you, boy, that if you lead my men among them——"
"Who? Me?" exclaimed the negro, in accents of alarm. "'Fore de Lawd, moster, you don't think Jonas would do dat? Why, sar, Ise been prayin' fur you uns to come, an' so has all de black ones. Dem rebels kill me suah, if dey see me wid de Yankees."
"And so will I if you take my men where the rebels can get hold of them; so that will make twice you will be killed. That will do for the present, but I may want to ask you some more questions by and by. Go for'ad. Beardsley, Beardsley!" continued the captain, turning again to his chief officer, who wore an acting-master's uniform. "I remember that when I was a prisoner on board theOspreyI heard one of the mates address my captor by that name, and it somehow runs in my mind that this pilot we have been talking about is the same man. I made the best effort at escape that I could, but theHollinswas so heavily loaded that she moved through the water as though she had a hawser dragging over the stern; and besides he had the weather gauge of me. I showed him some pretty fair seamanship, and he might have given me and my men kind treatment in return for it."
"Certainly, sir," answered the executive. "A brave man always respects a brave foe."
"But he didn't, Mr. Watkins. On the contrary, when we got into Newbern, and the mob on the wharf began howling and calling us names, as they did the minute they caught sight of us, Captain Beardsley made no effort to stop them. He rather seemed to enjoy it. Give me a chance to take a good look at him when he is brought on board, and if he is the man I think he is, I want you to have him put into the brig without the loss of a moment and into double-irons besides. That was the way he served my crew. As soon as I have taken my coffee I will go down and tell the flag-officer what I have learned and what I intend to do with his permission; so I shall want my gig presently."
The captain went into his cabin, and when he came out again, a short time afterward, he was dressed in full uniform and wore his side-arms. He seemed to be in no particular hurry to leave the vessel, for although breakfast had been served and eaten, the long red meal pennant was still floating from the masthead, and the blue-jackets were smoking their pipes on the forecastle; but Jonas was loitering around, looking as happy as a darky always does after he has enjoyed a hearty repast, and when he saw the captain beckoning to him he came aft. What the Union officer wanted to question him about this time was as to the quickest and safest methods that could be employed to take a company of, say fifty men, through the country to Beardsley's house and Gray's, and bring them back to the fleet. Would it be necessary for this company to march overland, or could it go the whole or a part of the way in boats? and was there any danger that the men would be forced to fight their way? Jonas answered all his questions as readily as though he had known beforehand what they were going to be; and when the captain brought the interview to a close by sending the negro forward again, he held in his hand a rude map of all the principal waterways that intersected the mainland south of Plymouth and north and west of Middletown, and had learned how the garrison at the first-named town could be easily and safely avoided. Then he stepped into his gig, which was called away when the meal pennant was hauled down, and was taken on board the flagship.