The commander of the Bronx had explained his plan to the first lieutenant. There was nothing especially perilous in the expedition to be sent out; and it was the policy of Christy to keep the steamer out of sight of the fort, and of those in the immediate vicinity of it. After the Bronx had been on her course about two hours, and four bells had just struck, the leadsman reported two fathoms. A little later eleven feet was the depth.
"Quartermaster, strike one bell," said Christy.
"One bell, sir," repeated the petty officer at the wheel.
"Ten feet!" shouted the man at the lead.
"Strike three bells," added the commander; and the steamer began to back her screw.
As soon as the Bronx had lost her headway, the screw was stopped, and a drift lead was dropped into the water. A sharp lookout had been kept,and some flickering lights had been reported. The weather had become cloudy since noon, but there was no fog and no wind.
"You will let Mr. Pennant command this expedition, Mr. Flint," said Christy. "He will take the first cutter, with ten men, including Quartermaster Vincent and Bornhoff."
The third lieutenant was sent for, and his instructions were given to him. Mike would be his pilot, and could give him such information as he required in regard to the locality. He was to land in some convenient locality, cross the island on foot at the plantation, to Fort Lafitte, distant less than a mile, and ascertain if there were a steamer or other vessels in the bay. He was also instructed to use all means in his power to ascertain the strength of the fort. He was to make a landing about half a mile west of the plantation buildings.
Within the limits of these instructions, he was to act on his own judgment. Mike was sent for, and further information in regard to the course was obtained from him. The officer was cautioned to be prudent, and not fall into any traps. If he discovered that there was a steamer in the bay,and that the fort was not heavily armed, he was to burn a red roman candle as a signal to the Bronx, which would proceed to the southward, and then enter the Grand Pass by the deepest water.
"Where are the negro quarters of this plantation, Mike?" asked Mr. Pennant.
"Just west of the big house, sir," replied the Russian.
"I don't know exactly where we are now, Captain Passford," said the officer of the expedition.
"We lie about south of what Mike calls the big house, a mile and a half distant from it. Make the boat's course north north-west, and you will strike the shore about half way between the planter's house and the fort. But when you get near enough to see both of them, you can land where you think best," Christy explained.
The boat's crew had already lowered the first cutter into the water. The oars were muffled, for the chances were that no one in the vicinity of the plantation had discovered the presence of the Bronx, and it was not advisable to alarm the people. Vincent acted as cockswain of the boat, while the Russian, as most of the officers and meninsisted upon calling him, was seated in the stern sheets with the third lieutenant. The eight men at the oars formed the rest of the crew.
"I don't believe you will find many hands down here, Mr. Pennant," said Mike in a whisper.
"What do you mean by hands?" asked the officer.
"Laborers, niggers," replied the Russian.
"Why not?"
"I expect they have sent all the strong ones up to work on the fortifications."
"Shall we find no one at the negro quarters?" asked the lieutenant with interest.
"Only the women and the old hands, too old to do much work."
"Can you make out where you are, Mike?" inquired Mr. Pennant, after about half a mile had been made.
"I can just see the fort and the big house. It is not so very dark to-night," answered the Russian.
The course was believed to be correct for the point indicated by the captain, and in less than half an hour the boat grounded; but the shore was bold enough to enable the men to land. Mr.Pennant went to the forward part of the boat and took a careful look all around him. All was as silent as a tomb. Stepping into the fore-sheets, he leaped on shore, directing the Russian to follow him.
"Vincent, you will remain in charge of the boat and the men," said the third lieutenant, addressing the quartermaster. "I will explore the island with Mike. I have the fireworks with me, and you will keep a sharp lookout in the direction of the fort. If you see a light close to the water, make for it as fast as you can. Do you understand me?"
"Perfectly, Mr. Pennant."
"But you need not expect any signal for a couple of hours, or even three. If we get into trouble, we shall retreat upon the boat direct; so keep your eyes wide open."
The officer led the way up the shore, and the rows of sugar-cane extended almost to the water. They could make out the little village of negro cabins which lay between them and the planter's house, and they directed their steps towards it. It was but a short walk, and they soon reached the lane that extended between the rows of huts.
The lieutenant took his two revolvers from his hip pockets, and examined them as well as he could in the dark, and Mike did the same, for it was necessary to be prepared for whatever might happen. The village was as silent as though it were entirely deserted; but it was nearly midnight, and doubtless they were asleep in the cabins. They entered one. It was still and dark within the house. Mr. Pennant had brought with him a small lantern, which he lighted where the glare of the match could not be seen; but it revealed nothing to the inquirers.
Covering the lantern so that its light could not be seen, they followed the lane between the two rows of cabins for some distance farther, and then entered another. Like the first, it was deserted. They crossed to the other side of the avenue, where they saw some signs that the cabin was inhabited. Uncovering his lantern, Mr. Pennant threw the light upon the interior. It contained two beds, and each of them was occupied by two persons. In one were two silvered heads to be seen, while the other displayed two heads that appeared to belong to women.
"Shut the door, Mike," said the officer, in order to prevent the light from being seen.
"I think I know one of the old men," added the Russian as he returned from the door, "Shall I wake him up?"
"Yes; but don't frighten him," replied Mr. Pennant.
"Uncle Job," said Mike, placing his hand on the shoulder of the sleeper on the side of the bed nearest to him.
The head and hair of the old colored man were peculiar enough to enable the Russian to identify him if he had ever seen him even once before. His mouth was twisted to one side either naturally or by some injury, and his kinky hair made him look as though he carried a great bale of cotton on the top of his head. He opened his eyes when Mike shook him gently, and looked at the two men at the side of his bed with a wondering rather than an alarmed expression.
"Who dar?" inquired the negro.
"Good-morning, Uncle Job," replied Mike, taking the hand of the aged colored person. "How is your health?"
"Don't hab no healf, massa," replied Job, gazing earnestly at the intruder upon his slumbers.
"Don't you know me, Uncle Job?"
"'Pears like I do; I reckon you's Massa Cap'n Flanger."
"Not exactly; but I'm his man, Mike Bornhoff."
"Jes' so; you was born ob de debbil," replied the old negro, rising in his bed, and showing all his remaining teeth in an expansive smile.
"He remembers me," said Mike turning to the lieutenant. "We have struck the right man. But he don't mean that I am any wickeder than the rest of the world. I used to be called here by my last name, and Job invented the pun he has just used."
"Why do you say that we have struck the right man, Mike?" asked Mr. Pennant, caring little for the former relations of the two men.
"Because, though he don't look it, he is the best posted nigger in these parts. He is the wise man among his people, and a sort of leader among them, and fetich man besides."
"All right; get him up if you can. Is he able to walk?"
"He is as tough as a he-bear, and can walk a hundred miles on a stretch," replied Mike. "He knows everything that is going on in these times."
The lieutenant had covered his lantern, for hedid not wish to wake the other sleepers in the cabin, after the description the Russian had given of his man. Mike spoke in a low tone to him, and it did not take him long to make his toilet, for he slept just as he was clothed during the day. No one knew how old he was, but he was still brisk in his movements. The officer led the way to one of the deserted cabins at a considerable distance from the one occupied by Uncle Job.
No one was stirring in the vicinity, and the silence was as profound as death itself. Not a word was said till they reached the cabin the officer had selected, and when they had entered, he closed the door behind them. The lantern was unveiled, and the lieutenant seated himself upon a block of timber, of which there were several in the room.
"Now, Uncle Job, I want you to answer some questions," Mr. Pennant began.
"'Pose I don't answer 'em?" suggested the negro.
"Then I shall put you in irons, and take you on board of the steamer," added the officer sternly.
"De steamer! wot's de steamer? Is't a Yankee gumboat?" demanded Uncle Job, opening his eyes with wonder and astonishment.
"That's just what it is."
"Den I gib you all de answers you want," replied the negro with a cheerful smile. "Whar de gumboat?"
"She is off the shore not far from here. Now you will answer my questions. There is a fort here?"
"Yes, sar; ober dar," he replied, pointing to the west.
"How many men are there at the fort?"
"Only twenty, sar; all gone ober to New Orleans, sar."
"How many guns has it? I mean big guns, Uncle Job?"
"I done count only four ob dem w'en I was dar last time."
"Only four!" exclaimed Mr. Pennant. "Are you telling me the truth, Uncle Job?"
"I neber spoke noffin but the truf, Massa Ossifer."
"Are those four very large,—long as this cabin is wide?" asked the lieutenant with interest.
"No, sar!" exclaimed Job with energy.
"But they must have had very big guns."
"Yes, sar; but dey done tote 'em all ober to de Mis'sip Riber."
This seemed to be reasonable to the lieutenant, and in accordance with the belief of his superiors on board of the Bronx, for no Union man-of-war of any size could pass through the water courses to the great river. It looked as though the big guns had been replaced with those of smaller calibre.
Mr. Pennant put out the light in his lantern, and the party started to cross the island.
Mr. Pennant had some doubts about the correctness of the important information he had obtained, but he was at a loss to know how to verify it. It was a matter of course that sentinels patrolled the vicinity of the fort, or at least the principal approach to it. He decided to postpone his inquiry into this matter till a later hour of the night or morning.
"Whar you gwine, Massa Ossifer?" asked Uncle Job, after they had walked a short distance from the negro village.
"Over to the other side of the island," replied the lieutenant.
"Wot you gwine to do ober dar, massa?"
"I want to see what there is over there."
"Dis nigger kin told you wot dar is over dar."
"Well, what is there over there?"
"Dar's a steamer ober dar, an' I speck de Yankeegumboat's gwine in dar to look arter dat steamer," said Uncle Job, chuckling as though he enjoyed the prospect of such an event. "Say, Massa Ossifer, is Massa Linkum in yore gumboat?"
"Not exactly; but she is well filled with his people," replied Mr. Pennant, laughing.
"I done wish dat Massa Linkum come down here hisself," added the venerable colored person.
"He can hardly spare the time to do that; his business is such that he cannot leave," replied the lieutenant, much amused at the simplicity of the negro. "Now tell me something more about this steamer in the bay. How big is she?"
"I can't told you 'zackly, massa; she as big as de fort."
"Where did she come from?" asked the lieutenant, who had more confidence in the honesty than in the intelligence of Job.
"I dunno, massa; but she done come in from de sea. When she git off dar two mile she done stick in de mud," answered the negro, pointing in the direction of the bar. "Den de little steamers from up the bay take off de loadin', and she done come in."
"With what was she loaded?"
"All sorts o' tings, massa; guns, and pistols, and close. Dis nigger help take de tings out ob her."
"What is she doing now in the bay?"
"Loadin' wid cotton de steamers fotch down."
"Where does she lie now?"
"Jes' off de ole Fort Lafitte, whar de water's deep."
In less than half an hour the party reached the locality indicated by Job. The officer could see the steamer which looked, in the gloom of the night, as though she was a craft of about five hundred tons. She was moored in the deep water so far in that she could not be seen by vessels in the offing. On each side of her was a small river steamer, and she seemed not to have completed her cargo.
"Do you know the name of that steamer, Uncle Job," inquired Mr. Pennant.
"Yes, sar; I knows it like my own name, but I can't spoke it if I die for't," answered Job, laughing.
"Try to do so."
"No use, Massa Ossifer; dis nigger don't hab teef enough to do dat."
"Can't you spell it?"
"No, sar; can't spell noffin."
But Job was very obliging, and he made a hissing sound, followed by an effort to sneeze which was a failure. Then he hissed some more, though the loss of his front teeth interfered with the effort. Then he said "fing."
"I know what he means," interposed the Russian. "I know that steamer, for she came in at Cedar Keys when I was there. He means the Sphinx."
"Dat's it, Massa Ossifer!" exclaimed Job, apparently delighted to find that he had made himself understood.
"Has she any big guns?"
"Yes, sar; she done h'ist two out ob her innards, and done took two more from de fort."
"All right; I think we understand the situation up here," said Mr. Pennant, as he led the way in the direction from which they had come.
They returned to the negro village, for the commander of the expedition did not feel as though he had yet finished his mission on shore.
"Mind yore eye, Massa Gumboat!" exclaimed Job, in a low tone, but with great earnestness.
"Dar's somebody comin' from de fort! He's comin' mighty quick shore."
The negro hurried the officer and Mike into one of the cabins, and shoved them into a sort of closet, while he went to the door himself. He passed out into the lane, as the man came into it from the middle of the field, for he had not been near enough to the shore to discover the boat.
"Who dar?" called Job.
"Soldier from the fort," replied the man. "What are you doing out here at this time of night?"
"I done get sick, massa, and I's gwine up to de big house to see de doctor," replied the negro, who probably used the first excuse that came into his head.
"The doctor!" exclaimed the soldier. "Is there a doctor there?"
"I reckon dar's one dar if he done habn't leabe yisterday."
"Then you can do my errand for me," added the soldier.
"Yes, sar; what's dat, massa?"
"One of our men is very sick, and we have no doctor. We are afraid he will die before morning,and we want a doctor. Ours was ordered off a week ago."
"I go for de doctor if he's dar," said Job.
"Very well; I will go back and tell the sick man the doctor's coming," added the soldier. "That will give him a hope, if nothing more."
"Dis nigger's 'feered de doctor done gone away."
"If he isn't there, we can't have him; but hurry up, Uncle Job, and come over and tell us if he isn't there," said the soldier, as he hurried away as rapidly as he came, evidently believing that hope was a panacea to a sick man.
As the soldier did not offer to come into the cabin, Mr. Pennant had come out of his hiding-place, and had heard all that was said by the soldier, even while he was in concealment.
"Is there any doctor at the big house?" asked the lieutenant as soon as Job entered the house.
"No, sar; all de family done leave, an' was gwine to New Orleans. Arter a while I go to de fort and tell de sodgers the doctor done gone," replied Job.
"I will go with you, Uncle Job," added Mr. Pennant quietly.
"You, Massa Gumboat!" cried the negro. "De sodgers put de bagonet frou your crop like a knife frou a pullet's froat!"
"Not if you tell them I am the doctor," added the lieutenant.
"De doctor! Be you a doctor, sar?"
"I have done something in the business, and perhaps I can cure the man who is sick, if they have the proper medicine," added the officer.
"Dey hab de medicine at de big house."
"Can you get into it?"
"Yes, sar; de oberseer's sick abed, and dis nigger go right in like massa hisself," replied Job, as he led the way in the direction of the planter's house.
The Russian was sent to the boat to await the return of the lieutenant; but he was instructed not to open his mouth to his shipmates in regard to what had been done on the island. Job found a way to get into the big house, and conducted the officer to the dispensary, where he had so often gone for remedies for his ailments. He found what he wanted, and then he felt reasonably certain that he should make a success of his professional visit to the soldier. He took several smallbottles of medicines in addition to the particular one upon which he depended.
Job conducted him to the fort, which was over a mile distant. The lieutenant was not dressed in his uniform with the shoulder straps, though he had procured one from the store ship at the station; but he had adjusted his garments to the needs of the occasion, so that, if captured he could hardly be recognized as a Union officer. But he had his navy revolvers in his hip pockets, though they were covered by the skirts of the frock coat he wore, for he had borrowed this garment of the surgeon.
At the principal entrance of the fort they were challenged by the sentinel. Mr. Pennant was somewhat afraid his northern dialect would betray him, for he was not a highly educated man, though he was exceedingly well informed in all matters pertaining to the duties of a shipmaster.
"Stand! Who comes there?" said the sentinel.
"Friends," replied the lieutenant.
"Advance, friends, and give the countersign!"
"We have no countersign to give."
"Who are you?" demanded the soldier.
"Dr. Waterton," answered Mr. Pennant, givingthe first name that came into his head, for the medical title was the essential thing.
"All right, doctor; I have been directed to admit you. Pass in, sir."
Job was familiar with the interior of the fort, and he led the way; but before they had crossed the parade, the soldier who had gone for the doctor came to them, and conducted them to a casemate, where the sick soldier was still suffering terrible pains.
"Lieutenant Fourchon, this is the doctor; but I do not know his name," said the soldier.
"Dr. Waterton," added Mr. Pennant.
"I am glad to see you, Dr. Waterton, for I have exhausted all my remedies," said Lieutenant Fourchon. "I was not born to be a doctor. The patient seems to be no better."
"It does not look like a very bad case," added the doctor, finding it necessary to say something, as he felt the pulse of the sufferer.
Though the lieutenant of the Bronx was not a physician, he was not altogether a pretender, for in the capacity of mate and temporary commander, he had done duty in the healing art in the absence of a more skilful person.
"A glass of water and a teaspoon," said he to the soldier-nurse; and they were promptly brought to him.
The doctor took from his pocket a small bottle of chloroform he had obtained from the big house, and dropped a quantity of it into the teaspoon. Mixing it with a little water in a glass, he gave it to the patient, who swallowed it quickly in spite of its burning taste.
"Now a piece of flannel," added the doctor.
Upon this when it was brought he dropped a quantity of the chloroform, and applied it to the seat of the pain. In a moment the soldier cried out against the burning heat of the remedy; but the practitioner insisted that it should remain a while longer. But he relieved him of it in a short time.
"How do you feel?" asked the doctor.
"Better; a great deal better," replied the patient.
In fact, in less than an hour he said he was entirely relieved from the severe pain. He was very grateful to the doctor, whom no one suspected of being a Yankee gunboat officer.
"I had the same thing once before, and I wassure I should die with it this time," said the sick soldier, "It lasted me all night and part of the next day the other time."
"I am afraid you did not have a very skilful doctor at that time," replied the practitioner with a smile.
Lieutenant Fourchon pressed the hand of the doctor, and left the casemate with him.
The Confederate officer was evidently of French descent; at any rate, he was very polite. He expressed his obligations to the supposed physician for the service he had rendered in very earnest terms. Mr. Pennant had been able to see that there were no guns in the casemates of the fort, and this was really all he wanted to know.
"All your guns seem to be mounted outside," said the naval officer as he halted on the parade.
"Yes, sir; most of the guns have been removed to points where they can be used to greater advantage than here. The few we have are twenty-four pounders, mounteden barbette," replied Lieutenant Fourchon. "The fort is practically abandoned; and in a short time will be entirely so, for the enemy's ships of war can do no harm here, and there is not water enough above to permit their passage into the Mississippi."
"But the fort can protect your vessels in the bay," suggested the lieutenant of the Bronx.
"The shoal water is the best protection for the small steamers that ply on these inside waters; and the Yankee gunboats can take all others as they come out. The entrance to the bay has not been regularly blockaded, for there has been little occasion to do so thus far."
Mr. Pennant had learned all he wanted to know, and from the parade he could see even in the darkness that only four guns were mounted on the works. He began to feel in a hurry to carry out the remainder of the programme assigned to him. He took the hand of the Confederate officer when he reached the point where Uncle Job was waiting for him, bade him good-morning, and left the fort.
"How's de sick man, Massa Gumboat?" asked the old negro, chuckling as though he appreciated the stroke of strategy made by his companion.
"He is better; in fact, he was about well when I left him," replied the practitioner. "But I have no more time to waste," added he, as he quickened his pace, moving in the direction of the shore.
The day was beginning to break in the east, and he was afraid the commander of the Bronx would become uneasy in regard to him. The quarters of the soldiers were passed, though they were not in use, and the shore reached. The lieutenant thanked the guide for the service he had rendered, and told him he could go back to his cabin, and finish his night's sleep.
"No, sar; see you frou, Massa Gumboat," replied Job.
"Do you wish to leave this place, Uncle Job?" asked the officer.
"No, sar; I want to be free, but I'm not gwine away, I want to see de gumboat."
"You shall see it, and go on board of it if you wish; but we may have a battle with the fort."
"Don't care for de fight, sar; Job isn't 'feered o' noffin'."
It was less than halt a mile to the cutter, and they soon reached it. The Russian was standing on the shore, and most of the men were asleep on the thwarts, though Vincent was wide awake. Mike recognized the form of the old negro, and reported that the lieutenant was coming.
"Now burn your roman candle, and let us getoff as soon as possible," said Mr. Pennant. "Bowman, help this man to a seat in the stern sheets;" and he assisted Uncle Job to get in himself.
The men passed him along over the thwarts, and seated him in the stern. Vincent burned the red candle himself, and it cast a fiery glare over the scene, which must have astonished the occupants of the fort if they saw it. As soon as it had burned out, the quartermaster leaped over the stem of the cutter, and made his way to the stern, where he jumped over the backboard, and took his place at the tiller ropes. The cutter was backed off the ground, and out into the deeper water.
"Up oars! Let fall!" said Mr. Pennant. "Stern, all! Give way!"
The cutter backed rapidly from the shore, and was then brought about. The lieutenant stood up in his place, and could just distinguish the Bronx, a mile and a half distant, in the gloom of the early morning. He watched her a few minutes and soon saw her swing around, and head to the south-east.
"Make the course about south, Vincent," said the officer, as soon as he discovered that the steamer was in motion.
"South, sir," replied the quartermaster.
"Now, give way with a will, my men!" called Mr. Pennant in brisk tones, "for we shall soon have a twenty-four pound shot chasing us out."
When the cutter was about half a mile from the shore, making it about three-quarters of a mile from the fort, the peal of a cannon was heard, and a puff of smoke could be seen as it rose on the clear, starred sky, for the clouds had rolled away during the night. The shot dropped into the water a short distance abreast of the cutter.
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Pennant; and this was the first time he had ever been under fire, though he had imagined it enough to feel entirely at home.
Another shot followed the first, and dropped into the water; and if it had gone fifty feet farther, it would have struck the boat.
"Good again!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "I think that is about the range of those guns."
A third shot fell a little nearer the cutter; but it was evident enough that it was out of the reach of the feeble guns of the fort. The firing continued but a few minutes longer, for it was as plain to Lieutenant Fourchon as to LieutenantPennant that the shots were harmless to the boat. The commander on shore could see by this time, if he had not before, that a gunboat was in the offing, and that he might soon have a better use for his powder than wasting it upon the boat.
The lieutenant had closely watched the movements of the Bronx. He had made the signal that the fort was not very dangerous to the well-being of the gunboat, and he understood her present movement. The light was increasing, and the Bronx could be distinctly seen, headed to the south-east, or in other words, making for the deep water outside the bar. Mr. Pennant still kept the cutter headed to the south.
The steamer went off till she looked very much smaller, and then changed her course to the south-west. The lieutenant in the cutter ordered the bowman to sound with the small hand lead, after he had brought the boat to a full stop. The man reported eight feet. The head of the boat was then turned to the west, and the crew ordered to give way. In a quarter of an hour more the course was checked, and the bowman directed to sound again. Sixteen feet was reported.
Mr. Pennant stood up in the stern sheets, andgazed in the direction of the fort. On the shore of the Grand Pass, above the fort, were three buildings, formerly occupied by mechanics and laborers. The sailing directions for entering the bay were to bring the fronts of these structures in range, and proceed for a time on the course indicated. Mr. Pennant had obtained this bearing after he had backed the boat a few feet. The depth of water then informed him that he was in the channel.
But he had no intention of again approaching the fort, and he headed the boat to the south-east, or nearly so, and then ordered the men to give way. He called the attention of the coxswain to the range, and directed him to keep it. The bowman was required to keep the lead going all the time.
"Ten and a half feet!" reported the bowman.
"That is the shoalest we shall get," added the officer.
The crew had been ordered to ease off, and the cutter moved very slowly. A quarter of an hour later the sounding was ten and three-quarters feet. The next report was fourteen feet, and then no bottom at twenty feet. The Bronx was approachingthe boat with full steam, and stopped her screw a short distance from the cutter. In a few moments more the boat was at the davits, and the commander of the expedition reported to Captain Passford.
"What have you here, Mr. Pennant?" asked the commander with a smile, as he pointed to Uncle Job, who seemed to be as bashful as a young girl, and utterly confounded by what he saw on the deck of the Bronx.
"That is Uncle Job, Captain Passford," replied the lieutenant. "He has been of very great service to me, and he enables me to make a very full report to you, sir. This is the captain of the gunboat, Uncle Job," he added to the negro.
The old man had no hat to touch or take off, for the mass of hair was a sufficient protection to his head; but he bowed almost to the deck, and was too timid to say a single word.
"I am very glad to see you, Uncle Job," said Christy, taking the hand of the venerable colored person. "I thank you for the service rendered to my officer. Now, Mr. Pennant, you will come to my cabin and make your report. Bring Uncle Job with you."
As soon as he reached the cabin, Christy brought from his stateroom twenty dollars in gold, which he presented to the old negro, who accepted the gift with many thanks.
"Dave," called the captain.
"Here, sir," replied the steward, coming into the cabin and gazing with astonishment at the negro. "This man has done a good work; take care of him, give him a good breakfast, and see that no one insults him."
As soon as the steward had taken him to the steerage, Mr. Pennant made his report in full, even to the number and calibre of the guns at the fort, and including the cure he had wrought upon the Confederate soldier. Christy was amused at this last part of the narrative; but he had no time to waste in conversation.
The screw of the Bronx was started again. Though the Russian was a pilot over the bar, his services were not needed as such. The first cutter had kept the range of the buildings on the island, and Mr. Flint had already picked it up. The steamer proceeded at less than half speed, but the tide was at its highest. By this time it was seven o'clock in the morning, for a great deal of the timehad been used up in moving the cutter and the steamer. Breakfast had been served to all hands, and Christy had fortified his stomach for a busy forenoon. As the Bronx proceeded on her course, the lead going all the time, making not more than two knots an hour, the report of a gun was heard from the fort.
"They are awake there," said Christy with a smile to the first lieutenant, and both of them watched for the fall of the shot, which struck the water at least a quarter of a mile ahead of the vessel. "Beat to quarters, Mr. Flint."
The strength of the Bronx was mainly in her heavy midship gun. The commander had ascertained the range of the twenty-four pounder barbette guns of the fort, and made his calculations accordingly. He could batter down the masonry of the works at his leisure, if he chose to waste his time and ammunition in that way; but the Confederates proposed to abandon the fort, and it would not pay to destroy it.
"Fourteen and a half feet!" shouted the leadsman.
"That will do, Mr. Flint; stop her, and let go the anchor. Get out a spring astern and make it fast to that buoy," said the commander.
In ten minutes more the Bronx quivered under the discharge of the great midship gun, and a cloud of smoke rose above her deck.
"Good for you, Mr. Ambleton!" exclaimed Christy, a few seconds later, when he saw the wreck of one of the twenty-four pounders on the fort.
This result was followed by emphatic cheers from the forty-five men on deck.
"I can do that again, Captain Passford," replied the gunner, who was in charge of the piece.
"Do it, then," added Christy.
He did not do quite as well every time, but in two hours there was not a gun in place on the barbette of the fort.
The fort had become harmless so far as the use of its guns was concerned; but the channel of the Grand Pass was hardly a quarter of a mile in width, and even twenty soldiers with muskets could pick off the men on the deck of the Bronx. Christy's orders required him to capture the steamer that was fitting out in the bay, and he intended to do it. The order to weigh the anchor and cast off the spring was given, and the commander sent for the chief engineer.
"We are within a mile of the fort, Mr. Sampson, and I mean to run by it. We shall be exposed to the fire of musketry for about half a mile, and the quicker we make this distance, the less the danger to the men," said the commander, when the engineer presented himself. "We will not get under way till you have all the steam you need to give the steamer her best speed."
"I understand the situation perfectly, Captain Passford, and I will report when we are ready to go ahead in the manner you desire," replied Mr. Sampson, as he saluted the captain and hastened below.
"The officer in command of that fort is not idle," said Mr. Flint, who had been using his glass very industriously since the firing ceased. "The soldiers are busy setting up the guns again, or some of them."
"We will soon stop that," added Christy. "Give them another shot from the midship gun, Mr. Flint."
The gunner was again fortunate in his aim, and it was seen that the solid shot cleaned off the carriage upon which the soldiers were at work. With the aid of the glass it was found that two of the men had been killed or wounded. The work on that gun was suspended, but the officer could be seen in the act of directing his force to another of the barbette pieces.
"That lieutenant is a brave man," said Mr. Pennant, "and I know he is a gentleman."
"I am only sorry that he is fighting on the wrong side," added Christy, as he observed theearnestness of the officer in the discharge of his duty. "Is he an old man?"
"No, sir; I don't believe he is over twenty, if he is that," replied the third lieutenant.
Another solid shot sped on its way, and Mr. Ambleton, the gunner, fully justified the reputation he had earned, though the missile only ploughed up the earth in front of the party on the fort. But then Lieutenant Fourchon proved that he was a wise and a prudent man, as well as a brave one, for he retreated from the exposed position with his men. It was almost sure death for them to remain there, for they could not help seeing the cloud of smoke that rose from the funnel of the Bronx, indicating her intention to go up the Pass.
"Mr. Sampson directs me to report that he is ready to proceed," said a messenger from the chief engineer.
Quartermaster Vincent was placed in charge of the wheel, with Boxie as helmsman. All that could be done to protect the pilot-house had been done, though it was not yet supposed to be proof against the musket ball that would be fired in that direction. All the men not absolutely needed forduty were sent below, but they were armed with revolvers and cutlasses, ready for service at any instant. The officers retired from the bridge, for it was folly for any one to be unnecessarily exposed to the musketry fire from the loopholes of the fort.
"Strike one bell, Vincent!" said Mr. Flint, when the captain had given him the order to go ahead.
The steamer went ahead slowly; but the steam was hissing, and she seemed to be as impatient as a fiery horse at the slow starting.
"Four bells, Mr. Flint!" added the commander when the Bronx was fairly under way.
The order went to the quartermaster, and the vessel began to dart ahead as though she fully realized what was expected of her. There was nothing to impede her progress, for the fort was as silent as though it had ceased to exist. A trusty hand was heaving the lead in the fore-chains, for the Bronx was not yet within musket-shot range of the island.
"Mark under water three!" shouted the leadsman, with an earnestness inspired by the occasion.
Christy planked the deck with Mr. Flint justabaft the foremast. Both of them were as cool and self-possessed as though they had been sitting at the cabin-table; but neither of them felt that the battle had been won, for the officer in command of the fort was evidently a man of ability, who had not yet exhausted his resources. The first lieutenant had watched the works very closely with his glass, and he had informed the captain that something was in progress there, though he could not tell what it was.
Christy certainly felt very anxious, and he could not help asking himself whether or not he was engaged in a foolhardy enterprise in attacking the fort. His orders related only to the steamer that was loading in the bay, and he had been warned in his instructions to take the fort into consideration in his operations. He felt that he had given proper attention to the fort, inasmuch as he had disabled all its guns. He might have simply blockaded the entrance to the Pass; but he might have stayed in the offing a month before she ventured to come out. He was still willing to believe that he had not overstepped his orders.
"And a quarter three!" cried the leadsman.
"Make the course north-west, Mr. Flint," saidChristy, following the sailing directions with a proper allowance for the tide. "No more sounding; send the man below. We shall have from three to seven fathoms of water till we have passed the fort."
The Bronx continued to dart ahead at her best speed, and no sound came from the fort. It was only a question of minutes now before the steamer reached a point inside of the island where she could accomplish her mission by the capture of the Sphinx. The officers remained on deck, but they were protected by the bulwarks, the masts, and especially under the shelter of the top-gallant forecastle. Christy had earnestly warned the second and third lieutenants not to expose themselves needlessly to the musketry of the fort, and Mr. Flint was discreet enough to need no such warning.
"Soldiers on the fort, sir!" shouted Vincent, when the Bronx was within less than a quarter of a mile of the works.
Christy and the first lieutenant sprang from the shelter where they had been waiting the passage of the fort, and rushed up the steps to the bridge. The commander of the force on shore, with half adozen men, was at work on one of the guns on the barbette; but it was impossible to make out what they were doing. Then there was a flash, a cloud of smoke went up, and a shot crashed into the deck directly under the pilot-house, tearing up the planks, and disappearing in the space below.
"Wheel disabled, sir!" shouted the quartermaster.
"Beat to quarters, Mr. Flint!" said Christy, trying to make out what mischief had been done by the shot; but he could only see that it had cut the wheel ropes.
"Strike two bells, Vincent!" he called to the quartermaster.
By this time the executive officer had beat the crew to quarters, and every man was at his station.
"Strike three bells, Vincent," continued the commander. "Mr. Flint, open fire upon the fort with the midship gun. Have the carpenter report at once on the damage done by that shot. Strike two bells, Vincent."
It was plain enough to all the officers and men that the commander knew what to do in the emergency, and every one was energetic in thedischarge of his duty. Mr. Ambleton was fully alive to the peril of the moment, and he was careful to make his aim sure with the great gun. It had been loaded before with a solid shot, and presently the steamer was shaken to her keel by the concussion of its discharge.
Christy was still on the bridge, and he watched with intense interest the effect of the shot. In a moment he saw the carriage of the only gun that seemed to be mounted on the barbette flying in pieces in every direction. He directed the gunner to use a shell next time; but the soldiers had hastened away from the place, bearing with them two of their companions, doubtless wounded by the splinters.
"Let go the anchor, Mr. Flint!" shouted Christy.
This was done under the direction of Mr. Camden. A fresh breeze had sprung up from the north-west, and the Bronx came up to the cable still headed in the direction of her former course. The carpenter reported that the shot had passed out at the side between decks, and that he had plugged the hole. The third lieutenant was busy rigging new wheel ropes, which he said would beready in half an hour. Mr. Flint, at the order of the captain, had manned the broadside guns, and loaded them with shrapnel, for the most perilous part of the enterprise was yet to come.
The fort was silent. It was evident now that the commander of the little garrison had not left the barbette before till he had prepared at least one of his guns for further service; but it had again been disabled, and it was not known on board of the steamer whether or not he had any other gun fit for use. It was presumed that he had not, for the Bronx was within easy cannon shot of his works. Christy used the glass, but could not discover any gun that appeared to be mounted.
"All ready, Mr. Flint," reported the third lieutenant, when he had completed the repairs on the steering gear.
The first lieutenant inspected the work, and reported to the captain, who immediately ordered him to weigh the anchor. The chief engineer had been directed to be ready to proceed, and the steam was hissing with a merry music. The midship gun was of no service now, and Mr. Flint had been directed to keep up a steady fire with thebroadside guns at the embrasures of the fort as soon as the Bronx was in range.
Again the steamer darted ahead at a speed which would soon carry her beyond the reach of the musket ball of the soldiers. Christy still remained upon the bridge, observing the fort and all that was done on the deck of the Bronx. He directed his glass frequently at the barbette of the fort; but the prudent commander of the garrison had evidently concluded to confine his efforts to the casemates. At least one-fourth of his men had been disabled.
"Open with the broadside guns, Mr. Flint!" called Christy, as the Bronx came abreast of the works.
As he spoke, Boxie dropped in his place at the wheel, and Vincent grasped the spokes. The blood was streaming down the face of the old man, and he did not move after he fell. Two sailors bore him below; but the surgeon promptly declared that he was dead.
The rattle of musketry became quite sharp, and the bullets were penetrating the bulwarks. Two had been wounded at one of the guns, and carried below. Christy stepped over to the end of thebridge to call a hand to take the place of Boxie, and at that moment he felt a sharp sting, as it were, in his right arm, above the elbow. Involuntarily he raised his hand to the place, and felt the warm blood oozing from the wound. It produced a momentary faintness; but he braced himself up, and wound his handkerchief around his arm, calling upon the wheelman to tie it, as he hastened to the aid of Vincent. He said not a word about the accident.
The Bronx dashed upon her course, and in a moment more she was out of the reach of the balls from the muskets. Half a mile farther up the Pass, the captain ordered Vincent to strike two bells. The Sphinx was in sight, not half a mile distant, with a small steamer on each side of her. Doubtless her captain had full confidence in the ability of the fort to protect his vessel, and he continued his operations as though he was in no possible danger.
"Mr. Flint, send Mr. Camden in the first cutter and Mr. Pennant in the second to take possession of that steamer," said Christy, holding on at the rail in front of him. "Put fifteen men well armed into each boat, and send the second engineer withthem. Hurry them off, or they may burn the vessel."
The two boats were soon in the water, though the first lieutenant wondered that he had not been sent on this important service. The two officers hurried their crews, and the boats flew on their mission. The commander felt that it was necessary to keep an eye on the fort, for its energetic officer was not at all inclined to be idle at the present exciting time. The Bronx had hardly stopped her screw before the soldiers were to be seen on the barbette; but the shell with which the midship gun had been charged sent them all to the casemates in an instant.
"What is the matter, Captain Passford?" asked the first lieutenant, as he halted on the deck. "You are as pale as a ghost."
"A ball went through my arm; but it is all right," replied Christy with a ghastly smile.
He refused to go below, or to permit Dr. Connelly to come to him until he had attended to the poor fellows who had been wounded on deck.
At the end of a couple of hours, the flames arose from the two bay steamers which had been alongside the Sphinx, for the second lieutenanthad been ordered to burn them. The smoke was pouring out of the two smoke-stacks of the steamer. Several boats filled with men pulled to the shore, landing the crews of the three vessels. In less than another hour the Sphinx was under way, and soon came alongside the Bronx.
As only one of the broadsides of the gunboat was available in the action with the fort, the starboard battery was transferred to the captured vessel. Men enough to handle them were put on board, and Mr. Camden was put in command of her. It was late in the afternoon when all this work had been done, and then the Bronx led the way through the Pass, her mission fully accomplished.
As soon as the steamer was abreast of the fort, the broadside guns poured the shrapnel into the embrasures and loopholes, though nothing could be known of the effect of the firing. The muskets were as active as before. Christy was on the bridge still, for the doctor had dressed his wound, and he had taken some refreshment.
This time it was discovered that the vigorous commander of the garrison had dug out some rifle-pits on the top of his works, and his men weredoing effective work with their muskets. Three men had been wounded on the deck of the Bronx, the third lieutenant being one of them. Christy shouted to Mr. Flint, ordering him to send the men below, and cease the use of the broadside guns, for the garrison were on the barbette, sheltered by their earth-works, where the guns could not reach them, so high was their position.
With the aid of his speaking trumpet he gave the same order to Mr. Camden on board of the Sphinx; but he had hardly uttered the command before his left leg gave way under him, and he sunk to the floor of the bridge. A ball had struck him in the thigh, and he could feel the blood flowing down his limb. He grasped the rail of the bridge, and drew himself up. There he stood like a statue, supporting himself with his well arm, till the Bronx had passed out of musket-shot range.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed the first lieutenant, as he came out from his shelter. "You are wounded again!"
"I must give up now, I fear," replied Christy feebly; and then he fainted.
illustration of quoted sceneChristy Receives a Second Wound.—Page 358.
He was carried to his stateroom by his officers, and the doctor examined his last wound. He wasrestored to consciousness, but he looked like death itself beneath the ruddy brown of his weather-beaten face.
"You will take the command now, Mr. Flint," said he when he saw the executive officer watching him with the most intense interest. "What do you think of it, Dr. Connelly?" he asked, turning to the surgeon.
"Severe, but not dangerous," answered the doctor. "The ball did not touch the bone, but it ploughed deep through the flesh. You were fortunate in having plenty of meat on your bones."
Dave was the most assiduous of nurses, and had no little skill in attending to the wants of the sick. The young commander was made comfortable in a few hours, and Mr. Flint came below to see him at the end of an hour when he had performed his most pressing duties. He reported that Mr. Pennant's wound was slight, and did not disable him. Eight seamen in all had been wounded, and one of them was likely to die of his injury.
"But we have done our work well, Captain Passford, and I don't believe that one-half the garrison of that fort are fit for duty at this moment," added the first lieutenant.
"But that was a splendid fellow who commanded there," continued Christy with admiration. "If his guns had not been taken away from him, and his force reduced to a handful of men, we should have had to wait for the Sphinx to come out of the bay; and it might have been three weeks or a month before she concluded to do so."
"We have damaged the enemy enough to make it pay, and the steamer and her cargo will put at least seventy-five thousand dollars into the pockets of our side in the conflict."
"And by taking the bull by the horns, instead of waiting till the captain of the Sphinx concluded to take his chances of being captured in getting to sea, we have made the Bronx available for duty at once in another quarter, where she can do better work than in chewing her cable off the bar of Barataria," said the wounded commander, thus satisfying his conscience that he had done his duty.
The venerable colored man, who had given so much assistance and information to the third lieutenant on shore, had no desire to leave his home, and he was landed in the darkness of the evening at a considerable distance from the fort. Christyhad rewarded him handsomely for the service he had rendered. The men in the first and second cutters had taken all the cotton in the small steamers, and put it on board of the Sphinx before they set them on fire. The four guns in the hold had been hoisted out to make room for the bales, and the vessel had been put in condition for her voyage.
Early in the evening, the two steamers were standing out into the Gulf headed to the south-east. In the middle of the afternoon of the next day, Mr. Flint reported to the flag-officer off Pensacola Bay. The wounded captain was as comfortable as a young man could be with two bullet-holes in his limbs. It was the first time he had been wounded so as to disable him; but he felt that he had faithfully done his duty to his country, and he was as cheerful as a man in his condition could be. Dr. Connelly reported that he would not be fit for service again for six or eight weeks.
Mr. Pennant, the third lieutenant, on account of his wound, which was not severe enough to render him unfit for ordinary duty, was appointed prize-master of the Sphinx, with orders to reportat New York for condemnation. A furlough was given to Christy, with a stateroom on board of the captured steamer. She was fitted out so that she could defend herself, or even capture any vessel of the enemy within her reach, and not too strong for her. She was not as fast as the Bronx, but she had logged over twelve knots on the passage from Barataria Bay, and was therefore likely to be added to the force of the navy.
Ensign Flint was appointed to the command of the Bronx by the flag-officer, who had called upon Captain Passford in his stateroom. Christy had not failed to commend his executive officer in the highest terms. The commodore suggested that Christy could not be very kindly disposed towards Captain Battleton of the Vernon, on account of his decision against him in the matter of his identity.
"On the contrary, I do not see how he could have done otherwise, commodore, and I have expressed to him my friendly feeling," replied Christy. "I think he is a devoted and faithful officer, sir."
illustration of quoted sceneDave Receives his Appointment as Steward.—Page 364.
"He desires employment on more active duty than the command of a store-ship, and I aminstructed to give him such a position if I have one at my disposal," added the flag-officer.
"I certainly hope you will do so, sir, if possible."
"I propose to appoint him executive officer of the Bronx."
"I am sure Mr. Flint could not have a better man."
In due time this appointment was made, and Captain Flint, on the recommendation of Christy, was entirely satisfied to receive him as his first lieutenant.
"One thing more, Captain Passford," continued the flag-officer; "the ship's steward of the Mercidita has been very sick for three weeks, and has applied for a sick-leave. I shall be obliged to transfer Mr. Nawood of the Bronx to his place."
"I can mention just the right person to take Mr. Nawood's place," said Christy eagerly.
"You seem to have a man ready for every vacant position. Who is he?" asked the commodore with a pleasant smile.
"His name is David Davis; but he is not a relative of the president of the Southern Confederacy, for he is a mulatto. He has rendered veryimportant service on several occasions, and there is not a truer or braver man on board of the Bronx, or any other ship of the squadron," replied Christy with enthusiasm.
The commodore shook his head, but he looked very good-natured. Christy narrated the part Dave had taken in the capture of Captain Flanger in the cabin, and in recovering possession of the Bronx when it was shown that the officers were rebels. Mr. Flint was sent for. He was quite as earnest in his plea for the steward as the commander had been, and the written appointment of Mr. David Davis was in Christy's hands when the flag-officer took his leave of the wounded commander.
"Dave," said the wounded lieutenant, the next time the steward came into the room, "no more 'massa,' no more 'moggywompus,' no more 'done do it.' You know better than to use such expressions, and you are no longer a 'nigger;' you are the ship's steward of the Bronx."
"What's that, Captain Passford?" demanded Dave, opening his eyes like a pair of saucers.
Christy handed him the appointment just made, and the steward danced about like a madman. Hehad expected nothing for his meritorious service, and he found himself in a position of trust and responsibility. He expressed his gratitude in the most earnest language, and without using a single objectionable phrase, for his education was better than his habit in the use of speech.
Ensign McLinn, who had served on board of the little steamer, but had recently been on sick leave, was appointed second lieutenant of the Bronx, while Mr. Camden, outranked by the other officers, remained as third lieutenant. Christy and Mr. Pennant were transferred to the Sphinx, with a prize crew; and that same evening the Bronx sailed under her new commander, with sealed orders, to the eastward.
The Sphinx sailed the next day for New York, and made a tolerably quick passage. Of course Christy was received with open arms by the family at Bonnydale, and with a profusion of blushes by Bertha Pembroke, who happened to be there on a visit. His father and mother looked with no little anxiety at the pale face of their son, though he was still cheerful and happy. He had lost a portion of his flesh, and his uniform hung rather loosely upon him.
He was too feeble from the effects of his wounds, for that in the thigh had proved to be more severe than the surgeons had indicated, to tell the exciting story of the escapade of Corny Passford; but when he did relate it, three weeks later, it thrilled the listeners for three whole evenings.
"You took the bull by the horns at an opportune moment, my son," said Captain Passford, Senior. "If you had not done so you would have been in a rebel prison at this moment. As it is, poor Corny has got back to Fort Lafayette, with Galvinne and our man-servant, whom I never should have suspected of being a Confederate officer."
"I don't think I care to go to the Gulf again as the commander of a vessel," added Christy, who had not changed his mind on this subject.
"Why not, my son?"
"I don't like the responsibility, in the first place, and the inactivity, in the second. When I am forty or fifty years old, I shall like a command better. Others seem to look upon me now as a boy, capable of any sort of quixotism, however prudent I may be, and point at me as one who has beenmade a commander of a steamer by influence at court. There is a vacancy at the present time on board of the Bellevite, for the second lieutenant will be compelled to resign on account of his health."
This matter was fully discussed during the next two months; and at the end of that time the young lieutenant was again in condition for duty. Both Mr. Camden and Mr. Pennant obtained the appointment of ensign on the strength of his reports. Christy was as earnest as ever in his desire to Stand by the Union; he was ordered to the Bellevite as second lieutenant, and, after three months' absence, went to the Gulf again, where we shall find him once more, both on sea and shore, Fighting for the Right.
Lee and Shepard's / * Star Juveniles
Messrs. Lee and Shepardannounce a new edition of this fine line of 12mo Juveniles, consisting of books byKellogg, Kingston, Ballantyne, Headley, and others. Printed on a fine quality of paper, fully illustrated, and bound in polished buckram cloth, at $1.00 per volume. Liberal discount for quantities.
Lion Ben of Elm Island.
Charlie Bell; The Waif of Elm Island.
The Ark of Elm Island.
The Boy Farmers of Elm Island.
The Young Shipbuilders of Elm Island.
The Hardscrabble of Elm Island.
Sowed by the Wind; or, The Poor Boy's Fortune.
Wolf Run; or, The Boys of the Wilderness.
Brought to the Front; or, The Young Defenders.
The Mission of Black Rifle; or, On the Trail.
Forest Glen; or, The Mohawk's Friendship.
Burning the Hatchet; or, The Young Brave of the Delawares.
A Strong Arm and a Mother's Blessing.
The Unseen Hand; or, James Renfew and his Boy Helpers.
The Live Oak Boys; or, The Adventures of Richard Constable Afloat and Ashore.
Arthur Brown, the Young Captain.
The Young Deliverers of Pleasant Cove.
The Cruise of the Casco.
The Child of the Island Glen.
John Godsoe's Legacy.
The Fisher Boys of Pleasant Cove.
A Stout Heart; or, The Student from Over the Sea.
A Spark of Genius; or, The College Life of James Trafton.
The Sophomores of Radcliffe; or, James Trafton and his Boston Friends.
The Whispering Pine; or, The Graduates of Radcliffe.
The Turning of the Tide; or, Radcliffe Rich and his Patients.
Winning his Spurs; or, Henry Morton's First Trial.
Fight it out on this Line; The Life and Deeds of Gen. U. S. Grant.
Facing the Enemy; The Life of Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman.
Fighting Phil; The Life of Lieut.-Gen. Philip Henry Sheridan.
Old Salamander; The Life of Admiral David Glascoe Farragut.
The Miner Boy and his Monitor; The Career of John Ericsson, Engineer.
Old Stars; The Life of Major-Gen. Ormsby McKnight Mitchel.
Heroes and Martyrs of Invention.
Vasco da Gama; His Voyages and Adventures.
Pizarro; His Adventures and Conquests.
Magellan; or, The First Voyage Round the World.
Marco Polo; His Travels and Adventures.
Raleigh; His Voyages and Adventures.
Drake; The Sea King of Devon.
Adrift in the Ice Fields.
Cast Away in the Cold; An Old Man's Story of a Young Man's Adventures.
The Adventures of Dick Onslow among the Redskins.
Ernest Bracebridge; or, School Boy Days.
Planting the Wilderness; or, The Pioneer Boys.