THE SICK CAPTAIN OF THE LEOPARD
Christy Passford now realized, for the first time, that he had
been taken by the enemy. War had actually been declared against the
Bellevite, and Major Pierson would undertake to perform the duty
assigned to him by Colonel Passford. The young man was determined to be
true to his colors under all possible circumstances; and therefore he
could do nothing, directly or indirectly, to assist in the capture of
the steamer.
Captain Passford, while he recognized the irregularity of his mission,
had come into the waters of Mobile Bay with no intention of committing
any depredations on the persons, property, or vessels of the
Confederacy. The Bellevite had not fired a shot, or landed a force,
in the enemy's country.
Indeed, the owner of the steamer had taken especial pains to conceal any
appearance of using force on coming into the bay; and all the guns on
the deck of the vessel, that could not be easily lowered into the hold,
had been covered up and concealed. Though Major Pierson had spent some
time on board of the Bellevite, he did not know whether or not she was
armed. He was no wiser than the owner's brother.
The major went to the lower deck of the Leopard, where Christy saw him
questioning the soldiers there, though he could not hear any thing that
was said. Of course he was inquiring for some hand who had steered a
steamer; but he soon returned alone, and it looked as though he had not
found the person he sought.
"It looks like bad weather, Mr. Passford, since you decline to be called
captain any longer," said the major, as he came into the pilot-house,
and looked at the sky in all directions.
Christy had noticed the weather signs before; and the wind was beginning
to pipe up a rather fresh blast, though the sun had been out for an hour
or more earlier in the morning. It came from the southward, and it was
already knocking up a considerable sea, as it had the range of the whole
length of the bay.
"I was thinking that we should have a storm before long when I looked at
the signs this morning," replied Christy rather indifferently.
"How many men does your father have on board of his steamer, Mr.
Passford?" asked the major, in a careless sort of way.
"Not as many, I should say, as you have in Fort Gaines. By the way, how
many have you under your command there?" returned Christy with a twinkle
of the eye.
"We have two thousand four hundred and twenty-six, including myself,"
replied the major.
"That is quite a force; my father has only seven hundred and forty-two,
without counting me."
"Where do you put them all?"
"We stow them away in the hold, after the manner of packing sardines in
a box. We only let them out one at a time, when we feed them with salt
fish and baked beans."
"That makes a good many men to a gun," suggested the major.
"Lots of them," answered Christy.
"How many guns does the steamer carry?"
"Only two hundred; of course I mean heavy guns,--sixty and eighty-four
pounders. I think there must be small arms enough to supply all your men
in the fort."
"I was on board of the Bellevite for half an hour or more, and I really
did not see a single heavy gun," added the major, biting his lip.
"Didn't you notice the one hundred and twenty pounder in the waist? It
is big enough for you to have seen it."
It was plain enough to the young Unionist that the major really desired
to know something about the force and metal of the Bellevite, and that
he was disappointed when he found that the son of the owner was on his
guard. No information was to be obtained from him.
"I think you said there was a doctor on board of the steamer," continued
Major Pierson, changing the subject of the conversation.
"Yes, sir; and a very skilful surgeon he is,--Dr. Linscott," replied
Christy.
"I went in to see Captain Pecklar when I was below, and I found him in a
very bad condition. I am afraid he will die before we can get him to the
shore; and he is suffering terribly," added the major, looking earnestly
into the face of the young man.
"I am sorry for him," replied Christy; and his pity and sympathy were
apparent in his face.
He had noticed the captain of the tug in the morning, and one of the
soldiers had told him he was a Northern man who had come to this region
for his health. He appeared to have no scruples at doing the duty
assigned to him, though he had been only two years at the South. But he
seemed to be of no use to either side in the contest, for he was too
sick to work any longer.
Christy was filled with pity for the sufferings of the captain of the
tug, and he thought the major's questions suggested that something was
to be required of him in connection with the sick man. He was willing to
do any thing he could for the aid of the captain, if he could do it
without sacrificing his principles.
"It was a part of my purpose to obtain assistance from the surgeon of
the steamer for poor Pecklar," continued the major. "But you have moored
us all here by refusing to steer the boat, and the captain will die
without our being able to do a single thing for him. There is not even a
drop of brandy on board of this boat to restore him."
"What do you propose to do, Major Pierson?" asked Christy.
"Just now, all I desire is to procure assistance for poor Pecklar,"
replied the major. "But we are as helpless as though we were all babies,
for we can't handle the steamer, and cannot run down to the Bellevite.
I hope you will not have the death of this poor fellow on your
conscience."
"I will not. I will take the Leopard alongside of the Bellevite, if you
like," replied Christy; and he regarded this as a mission of humanity
which he had no right to decline.
"The steamer has turned about!" shouted one of the soldiers on the
forecastle.
Christy had noticed that the Bellevite was coming about before the
announcement came from below, for his nautical eye enabled him to see
her first movement. He did not feel that the service he was about to
render would benefit the enemy, on the one hand; and he hoped that his
father or some other person on board of the Bellevite would see him in
the pilot-house, on the other hand. If he could only let his father know
where he was, he felt that he should remove a heavy burden from his mind
and that of his sister.
What else might come from getting near to the steamer, he did not
venture to consider. But he could not help figuring up the number of
soldiers on board of the tug; the force which had captured him and
Percy consisted of four men, and two men were with the lieutenant. Two
officers and six men was the available force of the enemy on board of
the little steamer, for neither the captain nor the engineer was fit for
duty.
"I accept your offer, Captain Passford; and we have no time to spare, or
the sick man may die," said the major.
Christy made no reply, but went to the wheel, and rang the bell to go
ahead. Heading the Leopard for the Bellevite, he gave himself up to a
consideration of the situation. Major Pierson immediately left the
pilot-house, and did not return. No stipulations of any kind had been
made, and no terms had been imposed upon Christy. All that he desired
was that his father should see him, and know where he was.
No one but himself on board could handle the steamer; and he could not
be sent out of the pilot-house, or concealed so that he should not be
seen. On the other hand, it did not seem to him that the officer could
do any thing towards capturing the Bellevite. The major desired to
ascertain what force she had, and had asked some questions calculated
to throw light on the subject.
If the steamer had come into the bay on a peaceful errand, as Christy
insisted that she had, the major might easily believe that she was not
armed, and that she had only men enough to man her. But Christy could
not tell what his captor was thinking about, and he could not yet
enlarge his plans for the future; but he was very certain in his own
mind, that he should not let pass any opportunity to escape, even at
great risk, from his present situation.
As the Leopard went off on her course, considerably shaken by the fresh
breeze which had stirred up a smart sea, the acting captain of the tug
saw that all the men who had been on the forecastle had disappeared,
with a single exception. The major was not to be seen, and doubtless
he was taking care of the sick captain, or arranging his plan for the
interview with the people of the Bellevite. In a few minutes more, this
last man disappeared, and Percy Pierson took his place on the
forecastle.
"So you are a Yank, are you, Mr. Pierson?" said he of that name, looking
up to the window at which Christy stood.
"Whatever I am, I am in command of a Confederate steamer," replied
Christy, laughing. "What is your brother doing, Mr. Percy?"
"I am sure I don't know: he is only talking to the men," answered the
young man, who had evidently been put there to act as a lookout.
At that moment a voice was heard from farther aft, and Percy went
towards the stern of the boat. A few minutes later he ascended to the
pilot-house. On the sofa abaft the wheel was Lieutenant Dallberg, where
he had dropped asleep as he finished his report of what he had learned
on shore.
"Mr. Dallberg!" shouted Percy; but the lieutenant did not show any signs
of life till the messenger had shaken him smartly. "Major Pierson wants
you down below."
The officer rubbed his eyes for a moment, and then rose from the sofa,
and left the apartment. The summons for the lieutenant made it look to
Christy as though something was in progress below. There was only one
thing which the major could think of doing; and that was to capture the
Bellevite, either by force or by strategy. He would have given a good
deal to know what the plan was, but it seemed to him to be quite
impossible to leave the wheel.
"How is the sick man, Percy?" asked Christy, when he found that the
messenger was not disposed to leave the pilot-house.
"He is a good deal better: they have just given him another glass of
brandy," replied Percy.
This statement did not agree with that of the major, who had told him
the captain was likely to die, and that there was not a drop of brandy
on board of the boat. The commandant of the fort had evidently been
acting in the pilot-house with a purpose.
"Didn't your brother order you to stay on the forecastle, Mr. Percy?"
asked Christy, when his companion came to the wheel on the opposite side
from the helmsman.
"No: he said if I would help him, he would do what he could for me; and
he told me to keep a lookout at this end of the tug. I can see ahead
better here than I can down below," replied Percy, as he tried to turn
the wheel. "I believe I could steer this thing."
"I know you could, Percy. Do you see the Bellevite?"
"Of course I do: I'm not blind."
"She has stopped her screw, and is not going ahead now," added Christy,
as he let go the spokes of the wheel, and proceeded to instruct his
pupil.
A few minutes later, Christy left the pilot-house to take a look below.