Marcy, the Refugee Read online

  CHAPTER IX.

  LOOKING FOR A PILOT.

  Bright and early the next morning the captain of one of the twenty-sevengunboats that were attached to the Burnside expedition, came out of hiscabin to take a breath of fresh air before sitting down to hisbreakfast. He was a large, full-bearded man, had a broad and a narrowband of gold lace around each sleeve of his coat, a lieutenant's strapson his shoulders, and wore his hands in his pockets. When he went up theladder he lifted his cap to the quarter-deck, and was in turn saluted bythe acting ensign on watch.

  "Anything new or strange to tell me, Mr. Robbins?" asked the captaincarelessly.

  "Nothing at all, sir, except that a lone contraband came off to us in aleaky skiff, when I first took charge of the deck," was the reply.

  "Does he know anything?" was the captain's next question.

  "I did not interrogate him, sir, only just enough to find out that he isnot a pilot."

  "Perhaps he knows where we can get one, so you might as well bring himaft."

  A messenger-boy was sent forward to obey this order, and presentlybrought to the quarter-deck the lone contraband of whom the ensign hadspoken, and who was none other than Doctor Patten's boy Jonas, whom wesaw watching the Union vessels from his hiding-place on the beach. Thecaptain asked him who he was and where he belonged, what his master'spolitics were, and why he ran away from him and came off to the fleet,and then he said:

  "You told my officer here that you are not a pilot for these waters; butyou must know where I can find one. There ought to be any number of themon the mainland, for I happen to know that many of you black people makethe most of your living on the water."

  "Dat's a fac', moster," replied Jonas, "but I aint no pilot. Dey used tobe some on de mainland, but dey aint dar now. Dey up to de forts on deIsland."

  "All of them?" inquired the captain. "Can't you think of a single manhereabouts who knows the channel through Croatan Sound?"

  "Not about here, I can't," answered the black boy, "an' I tell you datfur de truth. Dey is all on de Island waitin' for you uns to come wha'dey is; but dey's two back in de country a piece."

  "How far back in the country, and who are they?"

  "It's a right smart piece, sar; twenty mile suah, an' mebbe mo'. NameMahcy Gray an' Cap'n Beardsley, sar."

  "Are they Union or secesh?"

  "Well, sar, dere's Mahcy Gray, he's de best kind of a Union boy; but deother one, he's----"

  "Boy!" interrupted the captain. "I don't want any boy to take charge ofmy ship. This is no boy's play," he added, returning the salute of hisexecutive officer, who just then came up the ladder. "If I understandthe flag-officer's plans, we are to lead one division of the fleet inthe attack; and if we go on until we are aground, and the divisionfollows in our wake, there will be the mischief to pay, for the othervessels draw more water than we do."

  "Sakes alive, moster! Mahcy Gray won't nebber run you on de groun',"exclaimed the negro, with so much earnestness in his tones that thecaptain turned about and listened to him. "He de bes' boy fur de Unionyou eber see, an' he take you right fru de Sound, wid his eyes shet, onde blackest night you eber was out in. But dat rebel Beardsley you don'twant no truck wid him. He know wha' de deep watah is mighty well, but heaint gwine to take you dar. He run you on de groun' suah's you live andbreathe."

  "Never mind talking about that. You called him captain a minute ago.What is he captain of?"

  "Well, sar, moster, previous to de beginning of de wah he was cap'n ob atrader; but endurin' de wah he run a privateer an' blockade runner; de_Osprey_ he call her."

  "What?" exclaimed the gunboat captain, so suddenly that Jonas jumped,and the executive and the officer of the deck looked surprised. "Did youcall him Beardsley, and say that he commanded the _Osprey?_"

  "Dat's de name, moster," replied Jonas. "He cotch some Yankee vesselsoutside, an' when de gunboats get too thick on de bar, he take de twobig guns out, load up wid cotton, an' run de blockade."

  "What was his object in taking the guns out?" inquired the captain; andthe negro went on to explain what the reader already knows--thatBeardsley had disarmed and disguised his little vessel in order todeceive the cruisers along the coast. If he had been captured withnothing but cotton on board, the Federal authorities would not be likelyto hang him and his men as pirates, which they might have done if theyhad caught him while he had two howitzers on his gun-deck and a supplyof small-arms and ammunition in his cabin. The gunboat captain listenedattentively, and seemed very much impressed by what the negro had tosay; and when the latter ceased speaking he turned his back upon him,and said to his executive officer:

  "Mr. Watkins, I have wanted to meet that man for--for an age, it seemsto me now. He is the villain who robbed me of the _Mary Hollins_, andironed my crew like felons--like felons, sir, and in spite of my earnestprotest." Then turning once more to the negro, he inquired, "Can youguide a squad of my men to Beardsley's house and Gray's to-night? Youtold me, I believe, that they live twenty miles or more inland."

  "Dat's about de distance of de journey you will have to travel, sar,"answered Jonas.

  "I kin go da', kase I know de house whar dey resides. But de cap'n don'tlive da' no more sense de Union men riz up in de night an' burn himout."

  "I don't care how many times he has been burned out, nor who did it.What I want to know is if you can take my officers where they can puttheir hands on him to-night."

  Yes; Jonas was quite positive he could do that.

  "All right; but look here, boy," said the captain, shaking his finger atJonas. "Tell me the truth now, or you will never see another sunrise.Are there any rebels ashore between here and the place where those twopilots live?"

  "Oh, yes, sar; dere's plenty of dem at Plymouth, moster."

  "I am as well aware of that fact as you are," interrupted the captain."What I want particularly to know is if there are any cavalry scoutingaround who would be likely to pick up the men I shall probably sendashore to-night."

  "Not now, dey aint, sar; but a while ago dey was piles of dem. Dey goround to all de plantations an' tooken away de black ones en' make 'emwuk on de forts. I wuk on dem myself."

  "Consequently there may be some cavalry out there now," said thecaptain. "But I warn you, boy, that if you lead my men among them----"

  "Who? Me?" exclaimed the negro, in accents of alarm. "'Fore de Lawd,moster, you don't think Jonas would do dat? Why, sar, Ise been prayin'fur you uns to come, an' so has all de black ones. Dem rebels kill mesuah, if dey see me wid de Yankees."

  "And so will I if you take my men where the rebels can get hold of them;so that will make twice you will be killed. That will do for thepresent, but I may want to ask you some more questions by and by. Gofor'ad. Beardsley, Beardsley!" continued the captain, turning again tohis chief officer, who wore an acting-master's uniform. "I remember thatwhen I was a prisoner on board the _Osprey_ I heard one of the matesaddress my captor by that name, and it somehow runs in my mind that thispilot we have been talking about is the same man. I made the best effortat escape that I could, but the _Hollins_ was so heavily loaded that shemoved through the water as though she had a hawser dragging over thestern; and besides he had the weather gauge of me. I showed him somepretty fair seamanship, and he might have given me and my men kindtreatment in return for it."

  "Certainly, sir," answered the executive. "A brave man always respects abrave foe."

  "But he didn't, Mr. Watkins. On the contrary, when we got into Newbern,and the mob on the wharf began howling and calling us names, as they didthe minute they caught sight of us, Captain Beardsley made no effort tostop them. He rather seemed to enjoy it. Give me a chance to take a goodlook at him when he is brought on board, and if he is the man I think heis, I want you to have him put into the brig without the loss of amoment and into double-irons besides. That was the way he served mycrew. As soon as I have taken my coffee I will go down and tell theflag-officer what I have learned and what I intend to do with hispermission; so I shall want my gig pres
ently."

  The captain went into his cabin, and when he came out again, a shorttime afterward, he was dressed in full uniform and wore his side-arms.He seemed to be in no particular hurry to leave the vessel, for althoughbreakfast had been served and eaten, the long red meal pennant was stillfloating from the masthead, and the blue-jackets were smoking theirpipes on the forecastle; but Jonas was loitering around, looking ashappy as a darky always does after he has enjoyed a hearty repast, andwhen he saw the captain beckoning to him he came aft. What the Unionofficer wanted to question him about this time was as to the quickestand safest methods that could be employed to take a company of, sayfifty men, through the country to Beardsley's house and Gray's, andbring them back to the fleet. Would it be necessary for this company tomarch overland, or could it go the whole or a part of the way in boats?and was there any danger that the men would be forced to fight theirway? Jonas answered all his questions as readily as though he had knownbeforehand what they were going to be; and when the captain brought theinterview to a close by sending the negro forward again, he held in hishand a rude map of all the principal waterways that intersected themainland south of Plymouth and north and west of Middletown, and hadlearned how the garrison at the first-named town could be easily andsafely avoided. Then he stepped into his gig, which was called away whenthe meal pennant was hauled down, and was taken on board the flagship.

  His superior officer must have approved of the plans which CaptainBenton (for that was the name of the Yankee skipper who had once beenLon Beardsley's prisoner) submitted for securing the services of a pilotwho was familiar with the waters through which the fleet was to sail tovictory, although not very much was done toward carrying them out untilafter dark. The day was not a favorable one for a movement on the partof the Union forces, for a thick fog came rolling in from the sea andcovered the waters of the Sound. Once during the forenoon it lifted longenough to disclose the rebel fortifications on the Island, and thedouble rows of piles and sunken ships through which the _Fairy Belle_had sailed a few weeks before, with Commodore Lynch's eight boats above,and then it settled down again thicker than ever. But two of the Unioncommanders at least were not idle, and when darkness came to conceal itsmovements, the expedition which they had quietly prepared during the dayput off for the shore. It consisted of four cutters filled withsmall-armed men, two being from Captain Benton's vessel and the othersfrom the gunboat that lay next astern. The work of securing the pilotswas to be done by two squads of twenty men each, one under command ofCaptain Benton's executive officer, the second being led by an actingensign from the other vessel. Mr. Watkins's boat was first in the lineand the boy Jonas, who crouched in the bow of his cutter, was the guideand pilot.

  A second expedition, which put off from the flag-ship an hour later,held straight for the shore and stopped when it got there; but the onein whose fortunes we are at present most interested did not stop. Itturned into the mouth of a little river which was seldom navigated, evenby the fishing and trading boats that were so numerous in the Sound. Itwas known as Middle River; and if Jonas, who had lived upon its banksever since he could remember, had been asked how long it was and whereit took its rise, he would have been obliged to say that he did notknow. But he did know that by following some of its numerous tributariesthe expedition could pass in the rear of the forts at Plymouth intoSeven Mile Creek, and land within a few hundred yards of CaptainBeardsley's house and Marcy's. And that was just what it did.

  Although the strictest silence and caution were observed, the progressof the blue-jackets was not as slow and laborious as those who knewwhere they were going thought it would be, and neither did they see orhear anything to be afraid of. Only once during the long hours theypassed in those narrow, crooked streams did they hear a sound to tellthem where they were, and that was when a distant sentry on the rightbank, and a little astern of them, shouted the number of his post andcalled out that all was well. Then the blue-jackets drew a long breathof relief, and congratulated themselves and each other on having passedPlymouth without knowing it. Perhaps this was a fortunate thing forJonas. It might have frightened the wits all out of him if he haddreamed of such a thing, but the two sailors who crouched by his side inthe leading cutter held revolvers in their hands, and were under ordersto shoot him down at the first sign of treachery. He knew, however, thatthey were watching him, for on several occasions, when it was foundnecessary to change the course of the boat in order to follow thewindings of the stream, they had cautioned him to clap a stopper on hisjaw-tackle and pass his instructions aft in a whisper, like any otherwhite gentleman.

  "Da' now! Da' now!" said Jonas suddenly.

  "Not so loud, you black rascal," commanded one of the guards,emphasizing his words with a crushing grip on the negro's shoulder."What's the row?"

  "Cap'n Beardsley used to live right ober da', 'fore de Union men riz upan' burn' him out," replied Jonas.

  "We don't care where he used to live," growled the tar. "Where does helive now?"

  "Right ober da'," repeated the negro. "An' you uns got ter lan' heah onde lef' han' side ob de bayou."

  This information was duly passed aft to Mr. Watkins, who sat in thestern-sheets by the side of the coxswain, and the first cutter wasturned in toward the bank, the others following close in her wake. WhenMr. Watkins stepped ashore, he demanded of Jonas why he had landed theexpedition in those dark woods where there was not a sign of a house tobe seen; and the negro hastened to explain that the road lay about aquarter of a mile straight ahead, and that the house in which Beardsleyformerly lived stood on the other side of it. The drive-way, which ranclose by the ruins of the dwelling, led into a lane that passed throughthe quarter; and there, in the overseer's house, was where Beardsleylived now. This much having been learned, and a guard being left incharge of the boats, forty sailors, with Jonas and his keepers at theirhead, began threading their way through the thick bushes in thedirection in which the road lay. Twenty minutes' time sufficed to bringthem to it, but when Jonas began giving further instructions anddirections Mr. Watkins interrupted him.

  "Right da' is de drive-way," said he, "an' down da' is de lane dat goesfru de quarter. Look out fur de houn' dogs, an' don't waste no time infoolin', kase Beardsley's niggers say he mighty timersome sense youYankees come on de coast, an' de fust thing you know he run out de backdo' an' take to de bresk. Now, sar, moster----"

  "Take the boy with you and go ahead, Mr. Burnham," commanded theexecutive officer. "And it might be well for you to act upon the hint hehas given, and surround the house as quickly and quietly as possible.Remember the signal, and when you are done with the boy send him back tome under guard."

  In obedience to these orders Mr. Burnham's squad moved through the opengate at a quick but noiseless pace, Jonas and his keepers leading theway, and in a few minutes disappeared in the darkness. Ten minutes werepassed in silence, and then the angry protests of a small army of dogs,mingled with the doleful yelps of one which had been knocked endways bya savage blow from the butt of a Spencer carbine in the hands of ablue-jacket, whom he had tried to seize by the throat, arose on thestill air, being almost immediately followed by a single shrill notefrom a boatswain's whistle. This was the signal agreed upon, and itbrought to Mr. Watkins' ears the intelligence that if Captain Beardsleywas in his house, he was now shut up in it and could not escape. In lessthan ten minutes more Jonas and his two guards were heard coming backalong the drive-way at double-quick; whereupon Mr. Watkins's own squad,which up to this time had remained motionless in the road, set out at abrisk walk for Mrs. Gray's dwelling.

  "This is the place where the Union pilot lives, is it?" said Mr.Watkins, when Jonas halted and pointed out the house.

  "Yes, sar, moster, dat's de place. No dogs heah to pester you, kase oleBose done killed by de robbers. I speck Mahcy Gray mighty dubersomesense dem robbers been heah, an' mebbe he fight; but you uns luf Jonastalk to him, an' clem you see him open de front do' too quick. No needto circumroun' dis house. Marse Mahcy aint gwine run o
ff."

  Mr. Watkins's men were moving toward the house while the negro wastalking in this way, and now they were drawn up in line in front of thegallery by the master's mate, who was second in command, while Mr.Watkins mounted the steps and pounded upon the door with such effectthat he awoke echoes in all the wide halls. The startling summonsfrightened old Morris so badly that he drew his head under thebed-clothes; sent Julius like a shot out of the back window andscurrying barelegged through the garden; reached the ears of a pale butresolute woman, who hastily began arraying herself in such garments asshe could find in the dark, and brought out of bed an excited,determined boy who opened an upper window with a crash, and shoved themuzzles of two heavy revolvers down at the blue-jackets. This was MarcyGray. When his eye fell upon the double line of men in front of thehouse he made up his mind that the robbers had come out in full forcethis time.

  "Get out of that, or I will blow some of you to kingdom come!" said he,without a quiver in his voice. "One--two----"

  "Avast there!" exclaimed the master's mate.

  "Don't shoot, Marse Mahcy, honey!" cried Jonas, who thought that boththe revolvers were pointed straight at his own head. "Dese yer folks allYankees, sar; all Yankees de las' blessed one ob 'em, sar."

  "Jonas, is that you?" said Marcy, who could scarcely believe his ears."What brought you here at this hour of the night, and how came you inthe company of such a gang as that?"

  "If you are Marcy Gray, I beg to assure you that we are here for no evilpurpose," said Mr. Watkins, who now came down from the porch and lookedup at the boy. "We want to see you particularly. Come down, if youplease, and let me explain."

  "You're quite sure you are Union, are you?" said Marcy, who, at first,could not make up his mind that this was not a ruse on the part oflawless men to gain admission to the house; but, on second thought, heconcluded that it was not, for, if they had been determined to come in,they could have done it by breaking down the doors, or smashing thewindows, and that, too, without taking the trouble to call him and hismother.

  "We are quite positive on that point," answered Mr. Watkins. "We belongto the Burnside expedition. You knew we were in the Sound, I suppose?"

  "I am satisfied, and will be down while you are thinking about it," saidMarcy, slamming the window, and hastening back to his room.

  He lingered there long enough to put on a few articles of clothing, andthen ran down the stairs with a lighted lamp in his hand. In the lowerhall he found his mother, who was bravely striving to nerve herself toface something more dreadful than she had yet experienced. She had heardMarcy talking to the men who were gathered in front of the house, and,although she had not been able to catch any of the words that passedbetween them, she was somewhat reassured when she looked into her son'sbeaming face.

  "Who are they?" she asked calmly. "Surely they do not act like therobbers, who----"

  "They are Yankees from the fleet, and want to see me about something,"was the excited reply. "Will you take this lamp into the parlor while Iadmit them?"

  Certainly his mother would do that; but what could the Yankees want ofMarcy at that time of night, and how did they hear of him, in the firstplace, and find out where he lived?

  "Doctor Patten's boy, Jonas, told them, most likely; but when and wherethey picked him up beats me. I can't imagine what they want, either; butI will open the door for them as readily as I would for Jack," repliedMarcy; and, as his mother turned into the parlor with the lamp, he wentdown the hall to the front door.

  "Are you Marcy Gray, the pilot?" inquired Mr. Watkins, as the twosaluted each other, instead of shaking hands.

  "Caesar's ghost!" was the ejaculation that trembled on the boy's lips;and then he wondered if he was to be arrested for acting as pilot forCaptain Beardsley's privateer and blockade runner.

  "Because, if you are, you are the man I want to see," continued theofficer.

  "Will you come in?" answered Marcy, who thought it best to hold hispeace until he had received some insight into the nature of the businessthat had brought his visitor there.

  The latter complied, and, when he entered the parlor, was rather takenaback to find a dignified lady there. He saluted her courteously, and,without intending to do so, added to her fears at the same time that heexplained his errand, by saying:

  "I beg a thousand pardons, madam, for intruding upon your privacy atthis unseemly hour; but the truth is, our fleet has gone as far towardthe enemy as it can go without the aid of pilots to direct itsmovements. The name of Marcy Gray has been mentioned to my commander,Captain Benton, and I am here to secure his services."

  "Oh, sir!" cried Mrs. Gray, clasping her hands appealingly. "Would youcruelly rob me of the only son I have left, and take him into battle? Hehas already been sadly injured during this terrible war."

  The fact that Marcy carried one of his arms in a sling had not escapedthe notice of the officer, and now he looked at the boy rather sharply.There was but one conclusion to be drawn, he told himself: If Marcy gotthat wounded arm in battle, he must have been fighting on theConfederate side.

  "I was not aware that the young man was in the service," said he coldly."I thought he was Union."

  "And so I am," exclaimed Marcy. "I have a brother in your service, andhe is aboard one of your gunboats at this moment. I know, for I took himout to the fleet before the fortifications at Roanoke Island werecompleted. Did you speak of a Captain Benton just now? I once met asea-captain of that name, but of course the commander of a Unionwar-ship can't be the man I saw insulted and abused by a mob inNewbern."

  "How and when did that happen?" demanded the officer, his faceexhibiting the profoundest interest.

  "It was when the crew of the prize-schooner _Mary Hollins_ were marchedoff to jail," replied Marcy. "It was no fault of mine that I saw themcaptured, for I am Union to the backbone. I have been persecuted onaccount of my principles----"

  "My lad," exclaimed Mr. Watkins, taking Marcy's uninjured hand in bothhis own, "were you on the _Osprey_ when she made a prize of the schooner_Hollins?_"

  "I was," answered Marcy, becoming as excited as the officer appeared tobe. "I passed as her pilot and drew pay as such; but I did duty asforemast hand most of the time, and sailed on her because I could nothelp myself. May I ask if you know anything about it? I do not rememberof seeing you among the crew."

  "I know all about it although I wasn't there," answered Mr. Watkins,whose astonishment would scarcely permit him to speak plainly. "Mycommander, Captain Benton, was master of the _Mary Hollins_ at the timeshe was captured by that pirate. He is now acting volunteer lieutenantin the navy of the United States, and commands one of the finest vesselsin Flag-officer Goldsborough's squadron."

  Marcy Gray had never been more amazed in his life.