Marcy Gray thought he had watched the movements of his native State pretty closely since the result of the presidential election became known, and perhaps he had; but there were some things connected with her recent history that must have slipped his mind, or he would have seen at once that the government at Washington was justified in closing her ports to the world. The State had been in armed rebellion ever since the month of January, when her local authorities committed treason by seizing the forts along her coast. It is true that her Governor disavowed the action, offered to restore the forts on condition that they should not be garrisoned by United States troops, and that the proposition was accepted; and it is also true that the State forces very soon took possession of the forts again, this time acting under the Governor's authority. The latter's refusal to send troops to the aid of the national government proved him to be as much of a rebel as the Governor of South Carolina was.
"So North Carolina is no whit better than the States that have joined the Confederacy, is she?" said Marcy, when his mother had reminded him of all these things. "But there's a great difference between talking and doing," he added, wisely. "Three thousand miles make a pretty long coast, the first thing you know, and I don't believe Uncle Sam has ships enough to guard it. I'll bet you that when the blockade is established, I can take the Fairy Belle and slip out and in as often as I feel like it. It will be nothing but a paper blockade; but if it could be made effectual, it would send the price of things up so that you couldn't reach them with a ten-foot pole, would it not?"
Blockading more than three thousand miles of sea-coast, some portions of which were noted for sudden and violent storms, was a gigantic undertaking, and Marcy Gray was not the only one who did not think the attempt would prove successful. To begin with, there were only ninety vessels of all classes in the United States navy, and of the forty-two in commission all except twelve had been sent to foreign stations on purpose to have them out of the way when they were wanted. Of the vessels comprising the home squadron, all except four were in the Gulf of Mexico, where they stood a fine chance of falling into the hands of the secessionists. The officers, who had been educated at the expense of the government, and who had taken a solemn oath to support that government, were so badly tinctured with disloyalty that the authorities did not know whom to trust, some of the best men in the service, the gallant Porter among the rest, being suspected of disunion sentiments. During the time that elapsed between March 4 and July 5, two hundred and fifty-nine officers resigned their commissions and went over to the Confederacy. Some of them, who had been entrusted with commands, had the grace to give their vessels up to the government instead of surrendering them into the hands of the secessionists, and one Southern writer declared, with some disgust, that they carried their notions of honor altogether too far when they did it. His exact language was:
"If a sense of justice had prevailed at the separation of the States, a large portion of the ships of the navy would have been turned over to the South; and this failing to be done, it may be questionable whether the Southern naval officers in command would not have been justified in bringing their ships with them, which it would have been easy for them to do."
But the trouble was, the government never acknowledged that there had been any "separation of the States." The war-ships belonged to the nation, and not to a discontented portion of it, and were needed to aid in enforcing the laws that had been trampled under-foot.
In spite of all these disadvantages the loyal people of the North went resolutely to work, and before the fourth day of July the blockade was rendered so effectual that "foreign nations could not evade it and were obliged to acknowledge its legality." And this was done, too, after Norfolk navy yard, with its immense stores of munitions of war, twenty-five hundred pieces of heavy ordnance, and all its ships, save one, had been doomed to destruction by the perfidious officers who surrounded and advised its loyal but too credulous commander. It was something to be proud of.
But we have anticipated events a little. On the day Marcy Gray went to Nashville after the mail the blockade was not established, except on paper; there was not a ship of war on the coast so far as he knew; Hatteras Inlet was still open to the world, and privateers and coasting vessels were free to go and come as often as they pleased. Up to this time such a thing as a privateer had scarcely been heard of, but they appeared as if by magic when it became known that President Davis had invited applications for letters of marque and reprisal from good Southerners who were able and willing to fit out armed vessels to prey upon our commerce. The first one that attracted any attention was theSavannah, which ran out of Charleston on the 2d of June, and was shortly afterward captured by a ship of war that she mistook for a merchantman; but she was not the first privateer to operate in Southern waters. As early as May 7, several light-draught steamers, mounting two or three guns each, were hastily fitted out at New Orleans, and brought in prizes that were taken off the mouths of the Mississippi. There were also some along the coast, principally sailing-vessels, and although they did not succeed in making a name for themselves or in spreading much alarm among our merchant marine, they made a few good hauls. One of them was fitted out in Seven Mile Creek, not more than a mile from Mrs. Gray's plantation, and, wide-awake as Marcy thought himself to be, he never knew a thing about it until she was almost ready to sail. Then he found it out through her owner who came up to see him. He was sitting on the porch when the man came up the walk, and something told him that he had come there for no good purpose.
"What in the world does Lon Beardsley want here?" said Marcy to his mother, who was sitting near by. "He hasn't been to see me since I came from Barrington, and I don't think he would come now if he wasn't up to some meanness."
"Don't allow him to throw you off your guard with any of his specious talk," replied his mother, in a cautious tone. "To quote from Morris, he is a mighty palavering sort of fellow."
"I'll watch him. Good-afternoon, Mr. Beardsley. Will you come up and take a chair?" The man was a visitor, and as such was entitled to civil treatment even if his company wasn't desired.
"Yes, I reckon I'll set while I talk," answered Beardsley, taking possession of the seat that was placed for him. "Rough times these."
"Yes; and they'll be rougher before we see the end of them," was Marcy's reply.
"Don't reckon there'll be any fighting, do you?"
The boy said he was sure of it.
"Well, what's one man's pizen is another man's meat," said Mr. Beardsley, with a wink that no doubt meant a great deal. "By the way, Marcy, you've been to school and oughter be posted in such things,—what is a letter of mark-we and reprisal? I've been down to Wilmington a time or two on business, but I did not like to ask the folks there what it meant. They're strangers mostly, and I sorter scringed against letting 'em see how ignorant I was."
"It's a commission granted by a sovereign of a State to his subjects, authorizing them to prey upon the property of the subjects of another State, if they happen to find any at sea," answered Marcy. "That's as near as I can tell it without looking the matter up."
"It is about what I thought it meant. Now, does that letter or commission give protection to the crew of the privateer if they happen to be caught? They won't hang 'em, will they?"
"I don't think they will. A few years ago some European powers tried to induce Uncle Sam to enter into an agreement to abolish privateering, but he wouldn't do it. Our private armed vessels gave England a good deal of trouble while she was trying to whip us, and might do the same thing again under like circumstances."
"So the United States wouldn't agree to no such bargain," exclaimed Mr. Beardsley, with something like a sigh of relief. "Then Uncle Sam can't find fault with us for going into the business, can he?"
"He'll make prisoners of you and destroy or confiscate your vessel, if he can catch you," replied Marcy.
"Ofcourse. That's to be expected; but he'll have to catch us first, and even then he won't treat us like we was pirates. That's what I want to know."
"Why do you ask? Are you interested in the matter?"
"Somewhat," answered the man, with a laugh. "My schooner is fixed over and fitted with bunks for twenty men and three officers, and I've bargained for two howitzers in Newborn. That's what I meant when I said that one man's pizen is another man's meat. Now is the time to slip out to sea and make a prize or two before that blockade comes and stops the business."
Marcy was astonished and so was his mother; and neither of them could imagine why Mr. Beardsley had taken the pains to come to the house and tell them all this.
"Make hay while the sun shines, eh?" said he, with a chuckle. "I aint got my commission yet, and can't get it till my bond for five thousand dollars, which I give to the collector at Wilmington to send to the Secretary of State, has been approved. I've got to promise to obey the laws, you know, and that's easy."
"What do you intend to do with your prizes, if you make any?" inquiredMrs. Gray.
"Take 'em into Newbern and have 'em appraised and sold by a competent tribunal, whatever that means. I heard while I was in Newbern that there aint no admiralty court in this country like there is in England, and that the district court would most likely 'tend to the matter. As owner of the schooner I will, of course, get the lion's share of the money, and the rest will be divided up among the officers and crew. But I'll do the fair thing by you, Marcy."
"By me!" exclaimed the boy.
"Yes. You know this coast like a book—"
"There are plenty of others who know it better," interrupted Marcy, who now saw what the man's object was in coming there. It was two-fold: If Marcy would help him, he would give him good wages and a big share of prize-money to act as pilot; but if he wouldn't help him, then Mr. Beardsley would denounce him among the planters as unfriendly to the cause of the South, and that would be a bad thing for him to do. Marcy read the whole scheme as easily as he could have read a printed page, and if it had not been for his mother, he would have refused, point-blank, any offer that the owner of the privateer could have made him. But he would do anything rather than add to his mother's troubles.
"You must remember that I am not a professional pilot, and that a good many months have passed since I sailed my schooner along this coast," continued Marcy. "I might run you aground at the wrong time. You can get plenty of better men in Newbern or Wilmington."
"If I am willing to trust you it's all right, aint it? I don't want a professional pilot. I want somebody who knows Crooked Inlet. You've been through there often."
As Marcy could not deny it he said nothing.
"I aint going to follow the reg'lar routes of travel," continued Mr. Beardsley. "If I was, I could sail my own vessel without hiring anybody to act as pilot. My plan is to slip down to Newbern some dark night, after I get notice that my application has been granted, take my guns aboard, ship a good crew, and then run up to, and out of, Crooked Inlet. That will bring me a good piece above Hatteras, and out of the way of any war-ship that may be prowling along the coast. If one see me and gives chase, I'll put back through the Inlet where she can't follow on account of shoal water. What do you think of the scheme?"
Much against his will Marcy was obliged to say that he thought it would work, provided the pursuing vessel did not happen to be a steamer fast enough to cut the schooner off from the Inlet.
"And if she is, I won't go nigh her," replied Mr. Beardsley, with a grin which was intended to mean that he was altogether too sharp to be caught in that way. "We won't chase steamers, kase we know we can't catch 'em; and 'taint no ways likely that we'll go to sleep and let one of 'em get between us and the coast."
"Did you have to buy the guns you intend to put on the schooner?" asked Marcy, when the visitor paused and looked at him as if waiting for him to say something.
"No. They came from one of the forts taken by the State troops awhile ago. I borrowed 'em on condition that I give 'em back when they are wanted. They're too light for coast defense, but just the thing for our business. Well, what do you say?"
"You have not yet asked my consent," Mrs. Gray reminded him.
"I didn't think I'd have to," answered Mr. Beardsley. "I reckoned you were like all the other women folks—ready and willing to do anything for the cause."
"But if Marcy should be killed—"
"Aw! He aint going to be killed," exclaimed the visitor rudely. "Don't I tell you that we'll run the minute we sight a war-vessel."
"But you might run aground and they might capture you," answered Mrs. Gray, who knew as well as anybody how dangerous the coast was, even to those who were acquainted with it. "And if Marcy should be sent to prison, as he would if he were taken on board an armed schooner, what would become of me? My oldest boy is at sea, and it is my desire to keep Marcy with me as much as I can."
"He can run up and see you when we come into port, which will be as often as we take a prize, or see signs of a blow in the clouds outside," said Mr. Beardsley, putting on his hat, and getting upon his feet. "Come down and see the schooner, Marcy. Stop at my house, and I'll show you right where she is."
"How soon do you start?"
"Some time this week, I hope. The sooner we get outside the better our chances will be. That's why I say, make hay while the sun shines. Two or three hauls will make us so rich that we needn't do no more work the longest day we live."
"And will you feel no sorrow for those who lose their property, and perhaps their all, through your efforts to enrich yourself?" asked Mrs. Gray.
"That's why I say that one man's pizen is another man's meat," repliedBeardsley. "Not a mite of sorrow will I feel for them Yankees. Let themcome under our flag if they want protection. When will you be along,Marcy?"
"To-morrow about this time," answered the boy.
"All right. Think over what I've said to you, and be ready with an answer. When you learn a little more about a vessel I will give you a chance as mate. Good-by."
Beardsley walked down the steps and out of the gate, and Marcy kept his eyes fastened upon him as long as he remained in sight. Then he faced about and looked at his mother, who had dropped her sewing into her lap and sat motionless in her chair, the picture of misery and dejection.
"They're going for us, mother," said he, with a smile. "That interview with Beardsley has satisfied me that I can't live up to my principles in this country as I should like to."
"I never dreamed of anything like this," said Mrs. Gray, at length."What are you going to do, Marcy?"
"There's only one thing I can do and keep a roof over your head," answered Marcy, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and striding up and down the porch. "I must accept his proposition; that's all there is about it."
"Oh, Marcy!" exclaimed his mother.
"It looks fair enough on the surface, but I tell you there is something back of it," said the boy, confidently. "He pretends to take it for granted that I am a rebel, but he doesn't really believe it, and this proposition of his is intended to try me and find out where I stand. Almost the last question our class debated in school was: "Is a man ever justified in acting from policy rather than principle." I took the negative, and contended that he ought to act from principle, let the consequences be what they might; but I don't think so now. I shall join that rebel privateer, and I shall do it because I am sure something will happen to your house if I don't. Now please don't say a word about it. I feel bad enough as it is."
If Mr. Beardsley really was testing the boy hoping to find him wanting, he was doomed to be disappointed, for promptly at half-past two the next afternoon Marcy rode into his yard and went with him to see the schooner, which was hidden in a bayou half a mile away. Marcy knew the little craft as well as he knew his own, but her appearance had been so greatly changed that he would not have recognized her if he had seen her on the sound. Her black hull had been painted white, so that she would not offer so fair a mark for the cannon of any cruiser she might be unlucky enough to fall in with; her midship section had been changed into a berth-deck, and she had gun-decks fore and aft. The two white men who had charge of her had hoisted her canvas to give it an airing, and Marcy saw a large figure "9" painted on her fore and main sails.
"That's to make folks believe that she is a pilot-boat," chuckled Mr. Beardsley. "We'll be almost certain to find some fellow creeping along inside of Diamond shoals, thinking of no danger, and he'll never try to sheer off when he sees us coming, kase he'll think we're friendly. He'll think different when he sees a puff of smoke go up from our bows, but then it will be too late for him to square away. Good scheme; don't you think so?"
Although Marcy had never felt greater contempt for a man in his life, he managed to get through the interview to his satisfaction; but whether or not Mr. Beardsley was satisfied, the boy could not tell. Sometimes he acted as if he was, and then again he looked and talked as if he suspected that Marcy was not half as enthusiastic as he pretended to be, and that his heart was set on something besides privateering.
"I'd like to capture this vessel, hoist Dick Graham's flag over it, and give her up to some man-of-war," he said to himself. "But if I should try it, I'd never dare show myself around home again. The game isn't worth the candle. Some of Uncle Sam's boys will knock her into kindling-wood if she stays outside long enough, and possibly they may send me to Davy's locker along with her. It's rather a desperate chance, but it's the only thing that will save mother from persecution. Perhaps the neighbors will be a little more civil to her when they find that I am in the service of the Confederacy." Then aloud he said: "When she gets her guns and stores aboard she will draw a good deal of water for Crooked Inlet, and I'd feel safer if I could have Julius at my elbow when—"
"Oh, that wouldn't do at all," interrupted Mr. Beardsley, stamping about the deck and shaking his head most emphatically. "Julius is a nigger and an abolitionist, and we don't want no such around. I've had carpenters at work on the schooner for almost two weeks, and there aint been one of my black people aboard of her."
"But they must all know that you have been doing something to her," replied Marcy.
"Of course. I told 'em that I was getting ready to go a-trading between Plymouth, Edenton, and Newbern, and that I was fixing on her up so't I could carry big cargoes."
"Mebbe they believed it and mebbe they didn't," was the boy's mental comment. "If the darkies hereabouts are as sharp as they are down Barrington way, they understand what this vessel is intended for as well as you do yourself."
"I won't have no niggers aboard my privateer," continued Mr. Beardsley, who talked and acted as if he had grown in importance since those gun-decks were put into the schooner. "I wouldn't trust the best of 'em in times like these, and so I shall man my ship with whites. These men belong to my crew, and the rest will be just as good."
Marcy thought they might be better without hurting anything, for he did not at all like the appearance of the two fellows he had found in charge of the privateer. They had probably been picked up among the sailor boardinghouses in Newbern; and if the test of the crew were going to be like them, Marcy thought he would not care to be in their company for a great while at a time. He afterward learned that one of the men was deep in Mr. Beardsley's confidence.
Before the boy took leave of the owner of the privateer they came to a plain understanding on all points, agreed upon terms, and Marcy was to hold himself in readiness to sail for Newbern at any hour of the day or night. He felt almost like a criminal when he rode home to meet his mother, but, although he was among the first, he was by no means the last, to serve the cause of the Confederacy because he could not help himself.
"It's done and it can't be undone," said Marcy, after he had told his mother just what passed between him and the captain of the privateer. "I assured Mr. Beardsley that I didn't think the government would hang his men as pirates if they were taken on the high seas, but since I have seen a couple of them I have my doubts. If the ship-keepers are fair specimens of the crew, they are a hard lot, and I don't want to be captured in such company. This is being true to my colors with a vengeance."
That was what his mother thought, but she did not say a word to add to the bitterness of his feelings. Knowing the temper of the people around her as well as she did, she could not see that Marcy could have done anything else. Marcy Gray ate little supper that night, and as soon as it began to grow dark, he left the house and went out on the road to take a stroll. He wanted to be alone, even though the thoughts that crowded thick and fast upon him were anything but pleasant company. Almost without knowing it he kept on until he arrived within sight of the gate leading to Mr. Beardsley's yard, and saw three men standing close inside of it. The night was so dark he could not see who they were, and without giving the circumstance a second thought, he was about to retrace his steps, when the men moved into the road, and two of them made a few steps in his direction, but turned suddenly about as if listening to some parting instructions from the one they had left behind. Marcy waited to see no more, but walked rapidly homeward, unconscious of the fact that the men followed a little distance in his rear, although they did not see him. When he reached the carriage-way Marcy did not immediately go to the house, but paced up and down the road in a brown study, from which he was presently aroused by the sound of footsteps. A few seconds later a figure loomed up in the darkness, and Marcy thought he recognized in it one of the men he had seen on board the schooner that afternoon. The figure discovered him at the same moment, halted abruptly, and said in cautious tones, as if fearful of being overheard:
"Who's there?"
"It's no one who will hurt you," was the boy's reply. "Toddle right along about your business."
"Any dogs laying around?"
"Nary dog. I'm alone."
These answers must have satisfied the man, for he advanced without further hesitation, and peered sharply into Marcy's face.
"What you doing out here?" he asked, as though he had a right to know; and then Marcy saw that he had not been mistaken. The man was one of the ship-keepers.
"What's that to you, and who are you?" he replied, with spirit.
"I don't mean any offense—I don't really," said the man hastily. "But it is rather strange that I should find you so easy when you are the very one I was looking for. I didn't know whether it would be safe to come or not, for you have dogs in plenty, like all the rest of the planters about here. I am Sam Tierney, and I belong to Beardsley's privateer. You are Marcy Gray, and have been engaged to take the schooner through out-of-the-way inlets that the old man is not acquainted with. Let's go down the road a piece. I'd like to talk to you a minute, if you don't care."
"Why can't you say what you have to say right where you stand?" inquired Marcy. "There's no one to overhear you if your communication is private."
"Private? Well, you'll think so when you hear what it is. Come down the road."
It was right on the end of the boy's tongue to ask the man why he had come to see him so soon after holding that conversation at Mr. Beardsley's gate, and what he had done with his companion; but, on reflection, he decided that he would not say a word on these points. This might be an opportunity to learn something, he told himself, but there was one thing of which he was sure: he would not trust himself within reach of that missing ship-keeper, who might be hidden somewhere down the road, ready to pounce upon him the moment this man Tierney brought him to the ambush. He would remain right where he was, within earshot of the faithful Bose, who would be likely to make things lively for the privateersman if he attempted any violence. There was something in the wind, the boy was sure of that; but he could not, for the life of him, think what it could be.
"I don't care to go down the road," said he. "What objection can you have to this place? We can see in every direction, and there are no bushes behind which an eavesdropper could hide himself."
It was plain that Tierney was not satisfied with this arrangement. He walked about with his hands in his pockets, kicked a pebble or two out of his way, and finally wanted to know if Marcy would promise, honor bright, that he would not repeat a word of what might be said to him.
"No; I'll not make any such promise," Marcy answered promptly. "And you would be foolish to put any faith in it if I did. I don't want you to tell me anything confidentially, for I must be left free to do as I think best about repeating it."
The ship-keeper was plainly surprised at this answer, for he gave utterance to a heavy oath under his breath and kicked some more pebbles out of the road. Marcy waited patiently for him to speak, for he was positive that the man had come there with something on his mind, and that he would not go away until he had told what it was.
"You're mighty suspicious," said he, at length, "and I don't know but you have reason to be. You are a Union man."
"Who told you that?" exclaimed Marcy, somewhat startled.
"A little bird whispered it to me."
"Well, the next time you see that little bird tell him to mind his own business. My political views are nothing to him or you either."
"I wouldn't get huffy. The old man says—" began Tierney, and then he stopped and caught his breath.
"Aha! The old man says so, does he?" thought Marcy. "And he tells his foremast hands what he thinks about his neighbors, does he? I must be cautious. Well, go on; what does the old man say?"
"He says he has engaged you to act as pilot," replied the man, with some confusion.
"So he has; and if he chooses to trust his vessel in my hands in channels and inlets that he knows nothing about, what have you to say? He wouldn't do it if he did not think I would serve him to the best of my ability, would he? But what has my politics to do with the position I hold aboard that privateer?"
"Nothing much," answered Tierney, turning away. "But they have a good deal to do with the proposition I was going to make to you if I had found you to be the good Union I heard you were."
Now Marcy thought he began to see daylight, but he said not a word. Tierney acted as though he was about to go away, but the boy knew he wouldn't.
"I'm a Union man," said he.
"That's nothing to me, but if you are, I don't see why you stay about here. You've no friends in this State to speak of. Go up to the United States."
The ship-keeper was evidently waiting for Marcy to ask him about the proposition to which he had referred a moment before, but he waited in vain. It was no part of Marcy's plan to draw the conversation back into that channel. Tierney saw that he must take the initiative himself, and he did it very abruptly.
"Look here, pilot," said he. "There's no use in your mincing matters with me in this way. Just a moment," he added, seeing that the boy raised his hand as if he were about to speak. "I am a Union man all over, my pardner is another, and you are another. I know it as well as I know anything, and the old man knows it—I mean, he as good as said he had heard of it, too."
"Well, what of it?" inquired Marcy. "What did he hire me for, when he knows that it is in my power to run his schooner hard and fast aground if a ship of war gets after us?"
"But he doesn't quite believe all he has heard, and he's willing to give you a chance to prove that you are true blue," said Tierney, with an awkward attempt to undo the mischief he had done by talking too rapidly.
"I am true blue," replied Marcy, "although I confess that my actions just about this time do not show it," he added, to himself. "As long as I remain aboard that schooner I shall do my duty the best I know how."
"And will you take her out of harm's way if a ship of war heaves in sight?"
"I will if I can."
"Then it isn't of any use for me to say more, I suppose?"
"Not the slightest; that is, if you mean to propose that I shall join you in seizing the vessel for the purpose of giving her up to one of Uncle Sam's ships."
"I never said so," exclaimed Tierney. "I never said one single, solitary word that could lead you to think I meant any such thing."
"I haven't hinted that you did; but all the same that is the proposition you came here to make me. I can see through a ladder as well as you can."
"Well, I don't see that it's any good to beat about the bush," said the ship-keeper frankly. "That's just what I came here for. We could get a reward for turning the schooner over, and you could run her up as far as Fortress Monroe, couldn't you?"
"I might do it on a pinch, but I won't."
"We'll have men enough to take her without the least trouble," urgedTierney.
"I hope you'll not try it, but if you do, you will find me close byCaptain Beardsley's side."
"Will you fight?"
"I'll fight till I drop before I will go near the Yankees with the crew of that privateer. They would take one look at us, and then go to work and hang the whole lot."
"Why, didn't you tell the old man that they wouldn't?" exclaimed Tierney; and if Marcy could have had a view of his face, he would have seen that the ship-keeper was both astonished and frightened. "You must have changed your mind."
He certainly had, but did not feel called upon to explain why he had done so. His idea was that the faces of the schooner's crew, if Tierney and his companion ship-keeper were to be taken as specimens, would be quite enough to condemn them, and that the United States authorities would be justified in putting it out of their power to do mischief.
"I'll not have any hand in the mutiny, but will do my best to quell it if it breaks out," Marcy declared, with emphasis. "You've had your walk for nothing."
"So that's the end ofthathope," said Tierney, looking down at the ground and trying to act as though he was very much disheartened. "You won't repeat what has passed between us, of course?"
"Of course I will. I'll go to Mr. Beardsley with it the first thing in the morning."
"What's that you say?" Tierney almost shouted. "Take back those words orI'll—"
He made a step forward and raised his hands as if he were about to spring at Marcy. His actions were certainly threatening, and the boy believing that he might commit an assault just to keep up appearances, thought it best to summon a friend upon whose loyalty he could always rely. A single shrill whistle arose upon the air, an answering bark came from the direction of the house, and Bose came bounding up to see what was the matter. Tierney recoiled.
"He'll not say a spiteful word to you if you let me alone," Marcy assured him. "You see now why I did not care to go down the road. You have nothing to fear from me, but I shall tell Captain Beardsley all about this interview as soon as I can find him. And that is just what I am expected to do," he added, to himself, as the ship-keeper turned around and hurried away. "That fellow isn't half as good a Union man as Bose is. Beardsley sent him here to test me, and I saw it almost from the beginning. If I don't report the matter, Beardsley will have his suspicions confirmed, and then he will set something else on foot against me. Oh, I'm a sharp one," laughed Marcy, taking off his cap and patting his own head, "but I'd give a good deal to know when and how I am going to get rid of that man. Whatever I do I must look out for mother's comfort and peace of mind, and so I will not lisp a word of this to her."
That night Marcy's sleep was disturbed by all sorts of bad dreams, during which he was constantly detecting Captain Beardsley in some plot to injure him, and when morning came he was not much refreshed. In accordance with his usual custom he had his horse brought to the door immediately after breakfast, kissed his mother good-by, and set out for Nashville to bring the mail; but he stopped on the way to have a talk with the owner of the privateer. Under almost any other circumstances Marcy would have thought he was playing a contemptible part; but being as certain as he wanted to be that Beardsley was trying to get a hold upon him for some purpose of his own, the boy thought himself justified in adopting heroic measures for self-defense. The ship-keeper was not the Union man he pretended to be, and Marcy would tell Beardsley nothing new when he revealed the plot at which Tierney had hinted the night before. This was what Marcy believed, and the manner in which he was greeted by the privateer captain confirmed him in his belief.
"Have you been over to the schooner this morning?" inquired the boy, when he had hitched his horse and taken possession of the chair that was brought out for him. "If you will not think me too inquisitive, I should like to know where you picked up the two men you left in charge of her."
"I found them in Newbern, and they were recommended to me, by a party in whom I have all confidence, as men who could be trusted," replied the captain. "What makes you ask the question? Don't you like the looks of 'em?"
"No, I don't, and neither do I like their actions," said the boy truthfully. "Tierney came to see me last night, and tried to induce me to take a walk down the road toward the place where I think his companion was concealed."
"What did he do that for?" exclaimed the captain, who was so anxious to be surprised that he could not wait until his visitor reached the surprising part of his story.
"He probably wanted a witness to the manner in which I received the plot he intended to propose to me if I had given the chance," answered Marcy, narrowly watching the effect of his words. "But he didn't propose it; I will say that much in favor of Tierney. He simply hinted at it, and I told him I wouldn't have a thing to do with it."
"Why, the—the—brat!" cried the captain.
"You wouldn't have thought it of him, would you?"
"Indeed I wouldn't. I thought he was trustworthy."
"But you see he isn't. I told him I would tell you all about it and I have," continued Marcy, who had told nothing at all; but he had led Captain Beardsley on to acknowledge, almost as explicitly as words could have done it, that he knew all about Tierney's plan for seizing the schooner. "I think you had better discharge him. I don't want to sail with a man who is all the while watching for a chance to get me into difficulty. And then see how he is going square back on the principles he professes!"
"I should say he was. I'll discharge him as soon as I can get where the schooner is, and tell him the next time he—But what did he do? What did he propose to you?"
"He didn't propose anything, because I didn't give him time. He only hinted at it, and I thought it an outrageous piece of villainy."
"So it was; so it was. But what did he hint at?"
"Why, seizing the schooner and turning her over to the Yankees. I told you all about it."
"So you did, and I say that hanging is too good for that traitor. What would you do with him if you was me?"
"Send him up to the United States or put him in jail," replied Marcy. He knew very well that the captain would do neither one nor the other, but Marcy wanted to get rid of that man. If he would go deliberately to work to get him into trouble, as he had done the night before by his employer's advice and consent, he might try it again when Marcy was not so well prepared for him.
"It scares me to think of it," said the owner of the privateer, who did not look as though he were very badly alarmed. "Such a thing as taking the schooner could be done easy enough, and where would you be if it was attempted?"
"I should be on the side of the authorities. There's where you will always find me. I wouldn't fall into the power of the Yankees for ten times the value of all the prizes that will be captured on this coast during the war. I should never expect to see home again. I told Tierney I would fight first."
"I guess you will do to tie to, Marcy," said the captain; and the visitor told himself that those were the only truthful words he had uttered during the interview. "If all my crew is as loyal as you are, and if all the men in the army stick up for the Stars and Bars as you do, we'll gain our independence in less'n six months."
Marcy was not aware he had "stuck up" for the Stars and Bars, but it would not be safe to set the captain right, as he would have been glad to do, and besides this was the time to learn something.
"I don't know where Tierney got his information, but he has heard from several sources that I am for the Union," said he.
"That's what folks say," replied Beardsley.
"What have I said or done since I came home to lead them to think so?"
"Not a word; not a thing. It's what you haven't said and done that makes 'em suspicion you. You don't whoop and holler and yell and slosh around with your revolver, like the most of the young chaps do."
"I am not given to such antics, and these are no times for monkey-shines. We need sober, thoughtful men who will do their best to steer us safely through the difficulties by which we are surrounded, rather than whooping and yelling young ones who seemed determined to wreck us."
"That's good, sound argument," assented Captain Beardsley, as the visitor pushed back his chair and went down the steps to unhitch his horse.
"But there's one thing I want to tell you," continued Marcy. "I haven't signed any papers and consequently I am still a free man; and if you want me in that schooner worse than you want Tierney, well and good. If you don't, you can keep him and I will stay ashore."
Marcy had pinned a very slight hope of release right here. He was satisfied that the owner of the privateer must think a good deal of the man Tierney or he would not have placed so much confidence in him; and he hoped the captain would decide to keep him and let his pilot go. For a time it looked as though the hope might be realized, for the captain hesitated and stammered in such a way that there was no doubt left in Marcy's mind that he was loth to give Tierney up; but seeing the boy's eyes fastened upon him with a most searching glance Beardsley aroused himself to say:
"Of course;ofcourse."
"Would you feel safe at sea knowing that you had a traitor among the crew—one who was waiting and watching for an opportunity to turn you and your vessel over to the Yankees?" continued Marcy.
"No, I wouldn't," and the words came out quickly and honestly. "I wouldn't live on a vessel under them conditions."
"Well, whom are you going to keep—him or me?"
"You, of course. I couldn't get along without somebody who knows Crooked Inlet better than I do. Going to Nashville after your mail? Well, when you come back ride round to the schooner and you'll find that Tierney isn't there."
"What good will it do to ride around to the schooner?" thought the boy, as he gave his horse the rein and galloped out of the yard. "Of course Tierney wouldn't be there. He would hear me coming through the bushes and have plenty of time to jump ashore and hide himself. A blind man ought to see that I did right when I went to Beardsley with my story. He never asked what the plot was until he committed himself, nor did he inquire how many there were in it, nor did he get half as mad over it as he would if Tierney were a sure-enough Union man. It was a put-up job, I tell you, and who knows but there may be others of much the same sort hanging over me at this very minute? I do despise secret enemies."
News travels rapidly when all the people in a place are thinking and talking about the same things, and Marcy saw the fact illustrated when he reached Nashville. The mail and express packages were delayed by an accident to the wagon in which they were conveyed to and from the nearest stage station; it took two or three hours to repair it, so that it was mid-day before Marcy was ready to start for home. He always dreaded an enforced delay in town, and tried to time himself so that he would reach the post-office after everybody else had left it. In the days gone by he had been on friendly terms with all the Nashville people who were worth knowing, but it was not so now. He was treated civilly enough, but rather coolly, by those he met on the street and in the office, and he noticed that few of them took the trouble to speak to him. This being the case, he wondered what influence had been at work to bring about the change he noticed before he was fairly inside the town limits. It was "Hello, Marcy!" here, and "How are you, old fellow?" there, and when he hitched his horse and went into the post-office, where there was a crowd assembled, his greeting was as cordial as any that had ever been extended to him. Marcy opened his eyes, but said little, knowing that if he had the patience to wait somebody would explain the matter to him. He got a clue to the situation when young Allison, after telling him that the mail wagon had broken down and might not be along for an hour or two, inquired:
"How's your ship, Marcy? I suppose you calculate to sweep the sea of everything that carries the Yankee flag, don't you? I shall look for astonishing reports when you get among the war-ships that are coming to blockade the coast."
Allison was a loud-mouthed young rebel who had made himself particularly obnoxious to quiet, peace-loving Marcy Gray. He did not say anything to Marcy's face that the latter could resent (he was afraid to do that, notwithstanding the fact that he always carried a loaded revolver in his pocket), but he had said a good many insulting words to others that were intended for Marcy's benefit. The latter turned upon him like a flash, and said, so that every one in the office heard it:
"We don't expect to whip the whole Yankee navy, but we shall do the best we can, and that's more than you seem inclined to do. You have had a good deal to say concerning the cowards who are stopping at home when the South is calling for their services. Why did you not go to the front yourself long ago, you noisy braggart? Put a uniform on before you speak to me again."
"Good for you, Marcy," cried a score of voices. "Actions and not frothy sentiment are what we want now."
"Hit him again and I'll help," shouted another; and Marcy's old-time friend, Wat Gifford, elbowed his way through the crowd. He was in full uniform, and was the only citizen of Nashville who had snuffed powder at the bombardment of Fort Sumter. "Talk is cheap, but it takes patriotism to face Yankees."
If Marcy had had a week in which to consider the matter, he could not have done a better thing than he did right there on the spur of the moment. Young Allison slunk away abashed, and the privateer's pilot regained at one bound all he had ever lost in the estimation of the Nashville people.
"Wat, you're just the fellow I want to see," exclaimed Marcy, taking his friend by the arm and leading him from the post-office. "When did you get home?"
"Came last night to recruit after my arduous campaign, and to spread a little enthusiasm and patriotism among you stay-at-home chaps," answered Wat. "But, say," he added, in a lower tone. "I didn't expect to find you in the service. You're Union."
"Who told you that?"
"I'll be switched if I know. It's all over the country and in everybody's mouth. I reckon you're Union about as I am. I say that secession is all wrong, that we would be better without it, and that the people who are urging it on don't know what they are about. There's Allison for one; and I'm heartily glad you gave him such a set-back. He'll talk himself hoarse, but when it comes to shouldering a musket, he'll not be there. He'll be a bully chap to stand back and holler 'St-boy'; but he won't take a hand himself."
By this time the two friends had perched themselves upon a low fence where they could be alone and talk without fear of being overheard, and Gifford showed his Yankee descent by pulling out his knife and looking around for a stick to whittle.
"And is that the reason all our old friends have gone back on us, mother and me—because they think we are for the Union?" asked Marcy.
"I believe that is the reason a good many have turned the cold shoulder upon you," replied Gifford. "You asked me a fair question, and I have given you a plain answer; but I am sorry to have to do it."
"It's all right," Marcy assured him. "I want to know where I stand—"
"And then you will know how to carry yourself," added his friend. "But every one hasn't gone back on you; I haven't."
"You are the solitary exception."
"Well, you have taken the right course to show people that they were mistaken in you," said Gifford. "I don't see but that you were well enough treated to-day."
"And joining the privateer was what worked the change?"
"I think so. Where do you stand, any way? You need not be afraid to be honest with me."
"I think as you do, only I go a little farther. The Constitution says:'Treason against the United States shall consist in levying war againstthem.' Did you fellows levy war against them when you fired upon Sumter?If you did, you are traitors the last one of you."
"W-h-e-w!" whistled Gifford. "And you think we ought to be hanged?"
"I certainly hope you won't be, you especially, but you know as well asI do that the penalty of treason is death."
"And you don't call yourself a traitor to your State, I suppose?"
"I don't, because I have made no effort to overthrow the legal government of my State. Between you and me, I joined that privateer because I did not think it would be safe to do anything else."
"There's where you showed your good sense," said Gifford earnestly. "Judging by what I have heard, you took the only course that was open to you. The people here are not half as crazy as they are in Charleston, Wilmington, and Newbern, but they are none the less dead in earnest, and you will find that after the State goes out, a Union man will not be safe in this country. I think you have completely allayed suspicion here in Nashville, but you want to look out for secret enemies near home. Whatever you do, don't run Beardsley's schooner aground."
"What have I got to do with running the schooner?" asked Marcy, who was surprised at the extent of his friend's information. He began to see that he and his movements had been pretty thoroughly discussed.
"You're going to pilot her," answered Gifford. "That's what you've got to do with running her, and I say again, don't run her aground."
"If I do accidentally, Beardsley will shoot me, I suppose."
"No, he won't. He hasn't the pluck to shoot a squirrel; but you never could make him believe that it was an accident, and when he got ashore he would do all he could to inflame the secessionists against you. He seems to have something against you. I can't imagine what it is—"
"I can," replied Marcy, coloring to the roots of his hair. "He wants to marry our plantation."
"Whew!" whispered Gifford. "That is a piece of news, I confess, but it's safe, old boy. He'll not make it, of course. Then you have a most implacable foe in Lon Beardsley. He is one of your secret enemies, and that overseer of yours—what's his name, Hanson?—is another. They are sworn friends, I have heard, and if your mother has any money stowed away—Mind, I don't ask whether she has or not, because it is none of my business. But I understand that before you came home she made several trips about the country that could not have been made for nothing. If she has any money, take all the precautions you can think of to keep it from Hanson's knowledge. He's far more dangerous than Beardsley, because he's right there on the place. I'll ride up and see you to-morrow or next day, and then I will tell you more."
Just then the conversation was interrupted by the approach of a party of young fellows who wanted to shake hands with the soldier who had faced the Yankees in battle, and tell Marcy Gray that they were glad to hear he had joined the privateer, and that they had been mistaken in him, having supposed that he was for the Union and dead against secession. Having discharged this duty, and promised the young pilot that they would surely ride out and make him a visit before he sailed, they turned to Gifford and demanded a complete history of the battle in Charleston harbor.
"If it was a battle I hope I may never be in a worse one," replied the soldier, who was not as proud of that affair as were some of those who had no hand in it. "The South Carolina boys had everything their own way. There were few outsiders in it, except some who, like myself, were doing business in the city. Five thousand against fifty-one! Shucks!"
"But you heard the bullets whistle, and that's a thing to be proud of," said one.
"I didn't hear a single bullet, but I heard a shell or two, and saw the old flag come down. That was something I was sorry for."
Gifford could talk in this strain as much as he pleased because he had "been there"; but If Marcy Gray had ventured upon it, being under suspicion as he was, beyond a doubt he or his mother would have suffered for it. During the time he spent in waiting for the mail, he was never alone for a single minute. All his old friends seemed desirous of "making themselves square" with him, and not one left his side without first telling him that somehow the mistaken idea had got abroad that he was strong for the Union.
"And so I am," said Marcy to himself, as he mounted his horse and set out for home, glad to get away from the people who so misunderstood him. "I utterly despise this double life, but don't see any release from it just now. I should like to show myself true to my colors, but what can I do among a lot of ruffians who would burn the roof over my mother's head if I gave them the slightest excuse for it?"
When Marcy rode into his own yard he was surprised to see two strange carriages under the shed (a sight that had been common enough once upon a time, but which he had not seen before since his return from Barrington), and when he entered the room where his mother was sitting, he found that those carriages had brought to the house a party of ladies who had kept aloof from Mrs. Gray ever since she failed to celebrate South Carolina's secession by displaying a "nullification" badge. These ladies were as friendly and sociable as they had ever been, and a stranger would not for a moment have suspected that they had thought it advisable to drop Marcy's mother from their list of acquaintances. They fairly "gushed" over the boy when they told him how delighted they were to learn that he had enlisted under the banner of the Confederacy.
"But I haven't enlisted, and what's more I don't intend to," answered Marcy, who was resolved that there should be no misunderstanding on that point. "I've got to stay at home and look out for mother."
"But you and your brave comrades can run out once in a while and annoy the enemy's commerce, and that will be the same as though you were fighting in the army. Now is the time for every true son of the South to show his colors."
"Then it's high time some oftheirsons were showing their colors," said Marcy, after supper had been served, and the ladies had gone away and he was alone with his mother. "There were four women in that party who have sons older than I am. I saw them in town to-day; and although they showed themselves to be blatant rebels, and talked loudly about the good times we are going to have whipping the Yankees, they never said a word about going into the army. Why don't those women preach their doctrines at home instead of coming here to bother us with them?"
Then he told his mother what had passed between himself and Wat Gifford, and said he hoped Wat would visit him as he promised, for he was anxious to know what else his friend had to tell him. He had warned him against two secret enemies, and Marcy was sure he would feel safer if he knew who the others were. But it was a long time before he saw Wat Gifford again. The latter rode up the very next day, but the boy he wanted to see was on his way to Newbern in the privateer, to take on board the two howitzers which Beardsley fondly hoped would be the means of bringing him so much prize-money that he would not be obliged to do another stroke of work the longest day he lived. Even while Marcy was talking to his mother Captain Beardsley galloped into the yard with a smile on his face and an official envelope in his hand, which he flourished in the air when he drew his horse up at the foot of the steps. Marcy's heart sank within him, and his mother turned away to conceal her agitation. Beardsley had received his commission, and there was no backing out.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN BEARDSLEY BRINGS THE OFFICIAL LETTER.]
"Tain't nothing to turn white over, Mrs. Gray," exclaimed the captain exultingly. "Seems to me that you ought to feel proud to know that your boy has got the chance to strike a telling blow at the enemies of his native State. That's the way it makes me feel, and, Marcy, we want to get the schooner out as soon as we can, so as to catch the ebb tide to take us down to Newbern."
"That means that you need him this very night, I suppose?" faltered Mrs.Gray.
"Yes-um. That's what it means. The sooner he gets there to lend a hand, the better I'll like it."
"Has that man Tierney been discharged?" asked Marcy.
"He discharged himself," answered. Beardsley. "He must have seen you come into my yard and suspicioned what was up, for when I got to the schooner, he wasn't there. And his partner couldn't tell me nothing about him neither."
"I'll be along as soon as I can put a few clothes in a valise," said Marcy; whereupon Beardsley said good-by to Mrs. Gray and rode out of the yard.
"What was that man, whose name you mentioned, discharged for?" inquired Mrs. Gray, who knew too well that Marcy was going away under command of a man who would bring harm to him if he could.
"He was discharged because I didn't like his looks," replied the boy. "He told me he was for the Union, but I did not believe a word of it. Now, mother, I need everything I took when I went with Julius last vacation to explore the coast. I wish now that I had stayed at home, for then Beardsley wouldn't have thought of hiring me. Let us be as lively as we can, for it will look suspicious if I hang back."
Although the mother's heart was almost ready to break, she exhibited no sign of emotion. Like thousands of other women all over the land she gave up her son, hoping almost against hope that the fates would be kind enough to bring him back to her; but it is not to be supposed that she called Heaven's choicest blessings down upon the heads of the secession leaders who had made the sacrifice necessary. Marcy bustled about, doing no good whatever, but just to keep from thinking, and in ten minutes more there had been a tender farewell at the gate, a single kiss of parting, and the pilot of the privateer was well on his way toward Captain Beardsley's house. That gentleman saw him coming and waited for him. Perhaps he had hoped that the boy would show the white feather at the last moment. If so, he did not know Marcy Gray.
"We'll be short-handed going down," said he, as he led the way across the road and into the bushes; "but we shall be all right the minute we strike Newbern. When I got my commission out of the office this afternoon I telegraphed to my agent telling him we would start to-night, and for him to be sure and have a crew ready for us."
"Why, I thought your crew was already shipped," said Marcy. "You certainly gave me to understand as much."
"So they were, but I don't much expect to find 'em when I get there.They'll get tired of waiting and go out on the first ship that sails.But we'll have a crew. Don't worry about that."
"Worse and worse," thought Marcy. "We'll get a crew undoubtedly; but what sort of men will they be? Dock-rats and 'longshoremen, most likely, such as a decent captain wouldn't have on board his vessel. If we get into trouble and I run the schooner aground while trying to bring her out, they will be just the sort to pitch me overboard."
As this thought passed through Marcy's mind he slipped his hand into his pocket. Captain Beardsley saw the motion and inquired:
"Got a pop with you?"
"You wouldn't go on an expedition like this without one, would you?" asked Marcy, in reply. "Have you bargained for any small arms for the schooner?"
"I have, and know right where to get 'em. But I shall keep them locked up in the cabin and give 'em out to the crew only when I think it necessary."
"That's a good plan," observed Marcy. "Do you know anything about gunnery?"
"No, but one of the men I expect to get does. He has served his time on board an English man-of-war and knows all about howitzers, and such things. We couldn't get along without a gunner, you know. If we didn't have one, how would we bring the prizes to?"
Marcy wondered why the captain had so much to say on this point. He asked the question merely out of curiosity, and the man answered it as though Marcy had objected to having a gunner aboard. He learned more about it after a while.
When they reached the bank of the bayou in which the schooner was moored, Marcy found that Beardsley had acted promptly, and that the vessel was ready to be towed into the river. He had stopped there on his way home from the post-office to warn the ship-keeper, and immediately on his arrival at his own house, he had sent a dozen or more stout negroes to man the yawl with which she was to be hauled out.
"Come here, you mokes, and set us aboard," said Captain Beardsley to the negroes who were waiting in the yawl. "Now, let go the fasts and stand by to take a tow-line out for'ard." Then he said to the ship-keeper, in a low tone, "Is Tierney aboard?" and the man replied by pointing toward the deck, indicating, no doubt, that the man who had "discharged himself" could be found on the berth-deck whenever his services were needed.
By the aid of the negroes, who were handy with a boat, the schooner was towed from the bayou into Seven Mile Creek and thence into the Roanoke River a short distance above Plymouth. The jib and foresail were hoisted before she got there, and when they began to draw and the schooner to feel their influence, the darkies were commanded to cast off the tow-line and make the best of their way to the plantation. Marcy went to the wheel, not because there was any piloting to be done in that open river, but for the reason that he happened to be nearest to it, and Captain Beardsley came aft and spoke to him.
"When she gets clear of Plymouth we'll run up the mainsail and then she'll go a-humming," said he, rubbing his hands gleefully together. "This is the first time I was ever in command of a vessel sailing by government authority, and I feel an inch or two taller'n I ever felt before on my own quarter-deck. But this is a gun-deck now, aint it?" he added, stamping his foot upon it to see how solid it was. "If we only had aboard the howitzer that belongs here so that we could salute Plymouth as we skim by—You aint listening to me at all. What you looking at so steady?"
The captain faced about, and, following the direction of Marcy's gaze, saw the man Tierney slowly climbing the stairs that led to the deck. When he got to the top he turned around and came aft in the most unconcerned manner possible.
"Well, there," exclaimed the captain, dropping both his hands by his side and acting as if he were too astonished to say more just then. "If he aint got back I wouldn't say so."
Marcy's first thought was to give the wheel a fling, spill the sails, and demand to be put ashore at once; but he did not do it. As Dixon once told the colonel of the Barrington academy, it was too plain a case. Tierney had been aboard the schooner all the time, and Marcy might have found it out if he had been sharp enough to look between decks.
"I'm glad he's come back, for he's the gunner I was telling you about," whispered the captain. "We couldn't get along without him, don't you know we couldn't? Say," he added, as Tierney came up, "didn't you leave word with your partner that you had discharged yourself and wasn't never coming back any more? Aint you a pretty chap to show your face aboard my vessel, and you talking of giving her up to the—"
"Oh, what's the use of keeping that farce up any longer?" cried Marcy, in disgust. "You can't fool me. I don't know what Tierney's object was in trying to bamboozle me the way he did—"
"Well, I'll tell you," the man interposed, "and I'll be honest with you, too. I heard you were a Union man, and I did not want to sail with you if you were."
"That's the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," chimed in the captain, nodding and winking at Marcy.
"Well, are you quite satisfied with the test you applied to me?" inquired the pilot.
"I am. I know that you are as good a Southern man as any body in the country."
"And you are willing to acknowledge that you and the captain talked the matter over beforehand, and that when you came to me, to urge me to seize the vessel and turn her over to the Yankees, you did it with his knowledge and consent?" continued Marcy, controlling himself with an effort.
"Course he is," exclaimed Beardsley. "I told him he would find you true as steel, but he—"
"But I wouldn't believe it until I had proved it to my own satisfaction," chimed in Tierney.
The man acted as though he had half a mind to extend his hand to Marcy in token of amity, but if he had, he thought better of it, and in obedience to the captain's order called the other ship-keeper aft to assist in hoisting the mainsail.
"He didn't offer to shake hands, and that proves that he isn't as friendly as he lets on to be," thought Marcy. "He and the captain are playing into each other's hands. That story was all made up, and if I don't keep my eyes open, they will spring another plot on me. This is a lovely way to live; but I've got to keep suspicion down in someway, and I don't know how else I can do it."
Nothing exciting or interesting occurred during the run to Newbern, for there were no war-vessels inside the sandy bars which inclose the coast of North Carolina and protect it from the fury of the Atlantic storms. Aided by the strong ebb tide and the favorable breeze that was blowing, the privateer made a quick passage along the low, swampy shores of Albemarle, and finally entered Croatan Sound, which runs between the eastern coast and Roanoke Island, and connects Pamlico with Albemarle Sound. The forts, water-batteries, and Commodore Lynch's fleet, which were afterward destroyed by Burnside and Goldsborough, were not in existence now. Forts Hatteras and Clark were being built at Hatteras Inlet, but the Confederates wasted time in their construction, for on the 28th day of August Butler and Stringham captured them without the loss of a man, and in defiance of a storm which twice compelled the assaulting fleet to put to sea for safety. How Marcy Gray's heart would have throbbed with exultation if he had known that the flag his Barrington girl gave him was destined to float in triumph over the very waters through which he was now sailing, and at the masthead of a Federal vessel of war! That glorious day was only seven months in the future, but the young pilot had some tight places to sail through before it came around to him.
Marcy Gray had so little heart for the business in which he was perforce engaged, that he hoped something might happen at Newbern to prevent the schooner from sailing on her piratical mission—that the collector of the port might find some fault with her papers; that the howitzers and small arms might not be forthcoming; that it might be impossible to raise a crew; or that anything, no matter what, would come at the last moment to knock Beardsley's scheme in the head. But he was disappointed. The collector could not find any fault with the vessel's commission, for he himself had received it direct from the Confederate capital and forwarded it to the captain; the agent had scarcely slept since he received that dispatch from Nashville, and the result was that when the schooner sailed up to her wharf, she found the howitzers, four cases of muskets and sabers, and a crew of eighteen men, including two mates, waiting for her. The patriotic agent unfurled a brand-new Confederate banner as the schooner threw out a line by which her head could be drawn into the pier, and jumped aboard with it the moment she touched.
"May it be the means of bringing you many an honest dollar," said he, as he spread the flag upon the deck so that the captain could see it. "Are your halliards rove? Then why not go into commission at once, while there is a crowd on the wharf to holler for you? Come aboard, you fellows," he added, waving his hand to the crew, who were already tumbling over the rail, "and stand by to cheer ship when the banner of the Confederacy is run up. Did your vessel take a new name with her coat of new paint, captain?"
"Yes, I kinder thought I would call her theFish-Hawk."
"Isn't that a queer name for a privateer?" asked the agent.
"Why is it?" inquired the captain, who was busy folding the flag and getting it ready to be run up to the masthead. "Don't the fish-hawk get her living from the water, and aint I going to get mine the same way?"
"That's true. Well, then, call herOsprey.That sounds a little better,Ithink, and it means the same thing."
"All right.Ospreyshe is," answered the captain, as he hauled up the flag which had been made into a little bundle. "You stand by to set 'em going."
The crew, as well as the rapidly increasing crowd on the wharf, who watched the little bundle as it traveled toward the head of the mast, did not wait for the agent to "set them going"! When it reached the top, and a slight jerk from one of the halliards loosened the flag to the breeze, they yelled vociferously, and patted one another on the back and shook hands as though they considered it a very auspicious occasion.