ADVENTURES ASHORE.
For some minutes the _Minnesota's_ men were kept in harrowing
uncertainty as the _Merrimac_ hung off to mid-stream, apparently
undecided as to what to do next. Then, to their unspeakable relief,
she swung round, and turning her prow towards Norfolk, moved heavily
away. She, too, like the _Monitor_, had had her fill of fighting for
that day.
At sight of this Terry tossed his cap in the air, and began an Irish
jig on the fore-deck, crying,--
"Be off with you now. Sure, you've done mischief enough this blessed
day. It's mighty glad I'd be never to see a sight of you again."
As it turned out he had his wish granted, for when the withdrawal of
the ironclad became known at Fortress Monroe, two of the gunboats in
refuge there ventured out, and, attaching themselves to the stranded
ship, succeeded with great difficulty, and the aid of a flood-tide, in
getting her afloat again, and towing her down-stream to safe quarters
under the guns of the fort.
The following morning both Terry and Captain Afleck were able to get
ashore; and, rejoiced at regaining their liberty, they at once set
about ascertaining how they might make their way back to Boston.
This was a problem by no means easily solved. They were both penniless
and without friends, save such as they had made during their brief but
exciting stay on board the _Minnesota_. Under other circumstances, no
doubt, the captain of the frigate, as some reparation for running down
the _Sea-Slipper_, would have exerted himself to send them forward; but
he, poor fellow, had been severely wounded in the fighting, and the
other officers were too deeply engrossed in the pressing duties of the
moment to give any attention to less important matters.
It was in this crisis that Terry's really daring and devoted services
to the wounded during the thick of the battle brought forth fruit. He
was wandering disconsolately about the beach at Fortress Monroe,
wondering how he could make his way back to Halifax and set himself
right at Drummond and Brown's, when one of the _Minnesota's_
lieutenants came along, and hailed him pleasantly,--
"Where away, Terry? You look kind of down on your luck this morning."
"Indeed that I am, sir," responded Terry promptly. "I've just been
axin' myself how I'm to get back to Halifax, and faith I can't make it
out at all, at all."
"Oh, you want to get back to Halifax, do you?" said the lieutenant.
"Well, I can't say about that, but it's only fair you should be sent
back to Boston, for you would have been there long ago if we hadn't run
you down, wouldn't you?"
"It's the truth you're sayin', sir!" answered Terry; "and," here an
eager appealing look came into his face, "if you can say a word to the
captain, sir, and have Captain Afleck and myself given a lift that way,
it's more obliged than I can tell you we'd both be."
The lieutenant evidently took kindly to the suggestion, and clapping
the boy on the back, he said,--
"I'll do it, Terry. You did us all a good turn on board the
_Minnesota_ by taking water round when nobody could attend to it. Our
captain's in hospital, but I'll speak to the officer in command in his
place, and he'll do the square thing, I'm sure."
The lieutenant was as good as his word. He took considerable pains to
press the matter, with the result that on the following day Captain
Afleck and Terry were provided with railroad passes clear to Boston,
and sufficient funds to pay their expenses _en route_.
They made a light-hearted pair, the big bronzed man and the
freckle-faced boy, as they set out for Baltimore, rejoicing in getting
away from the scenes of bloodshed and destruction, of which they had
grown profoundly weary.
They were more than satisfied with their first experience of war in all
its horrors, and quite content that it should be their last. Terry
accurately expressed the feelings of both when he said, with a grunt of
disgust that made his companion smile,--
"If you ever catch me in a scrape like this again, you may call me as
many sizes of an idiot as you like. It is bad enough to be kilt in a
row of your own raisin', but what's the sense of it when it's not your
fight at all?"
By which deliverance Terry showed himself to be a true philosopher,
with a very sound and practical theory of life. But, like many other
mortals, Terry could teach a great deal better than he could practise,
the truth being that the impulse of his race to take a hand in any fun
or fighting that might be going was as strong in him as if he had been
born on the green sod.
However, he was sincere enough this time, and regarded with complacence
every additional mile of country that separated him from the scene of
the wonderful naval combat he had by so odd a chain of circumstances
been brought to witness.
As might be expected in time of war, when the whole country was more or
less upset, the train service was very imperfect. The rate of speed
was poor, the stoppages many and prolonged, and the carriages fell far
short of being comfortable.
Yet none of these things troubled Terry. It was the first long
railroad ride of his life, and he enjoyed it keenly despite its many
drawbacks. He made friends with the conductors and brakesmen, who
could not resist his cheery humour. He amused his fellow-passengers by
his quick observation of and shrewd comments upon the people and places
by the way. He even succeeded in so ingratiating himself with the
driver of the train during a long stop at a junction, as to be invited
on to the engine for the remainder of that driver's run, and then he
returned to Captain Afleck grimy but triumphant.
[Illustration: "_He succeeded in ingratiating himself with the driver
of the train._"]
From Baltimore to Philadelphia, and from Philadelphia to New York, they
hurried on. Under other circumstances, they would have been glad to
make a stay in each of these splendid cities; but Captain Afleck was
impatient to get back to Boston to prepare his claim against the
insurance company, while Terry was no less eager to return to Halifax,
that he might reinstate himself in Drummond and Brown's.
Yet in spite of their mutual anxiety they were both destined to another
delay which tried their spirits sorely.
The city of New York was at this time the centre of more interest and
excitement than Washington itself. The issue of the war still seemed
in doubt, and there were divided counsels as to whether it should be
carried on to the bitter end, regardless of consequences, or whether
some sort of compromise should be arranged with the South before
further successes had inflated her hopes too high.
In the face of this uncertain state of the public mind, nevertheless,
the most earnest preparations for the prosecution of the struggle by
land and sea were going on, and this of course attracted to the place
wild and turbulent spirits from every quarter, eager to take advantage
of the opportunity to fill their pockets, honestly or dishonestly, with
a decided preference for the latter way as being more exciting.
Bounty-jumping was a favourite device, and the city fairly swarmed with
men guilty of this dishonourable action, and who, afraid to show
themselves in the light of day, prowled about the streets at night with
no very good intent.
It was late in the evening when the captain and Terry arrived in New
York, and as they had been without food, since mid-day, their first
proceeding was to set out in quest of a restaurant. Captain Afleck
knew something of the city, having been there before, and soon found
his way to a quiet eating-house, where they obtained a comfortable meal
at a reasonable price.
They took their time over it, for they were weary of the train, and it
was quite a relief to be rid of the roar and rattle for a time.
Midnight was not far off when they went out into the street, and
feeling greatly refreshed, they were tempted into taking a stroll
before returning to the station, where they intended to pass the night,
so as to be on hand for the first train to Boston in the morning.
The night was fine and bright. The captain lit his pipe, while Terry
munched some candy, and the two wandered on in a careless manner,
enjoying the cold air and the quiet of the hour.
"It's a big place this, isn't it, Terry?" said the captain as they
stood at an intersection of two streets, and looking north, south,
east, and west, saw the long lines of lights go twinkling 'off as far
as the eye could reach. "All the same, I believe I'd rather live in
Halifax; wouldn't you?"
"That I would," responded Terry promptly. "I'd be afraid of gettin'
lost here all the time. Sure, there must be a sight of people here.
It's not much chance a poor chap like me 'ud have wid such a crowd."
Now that Terry's ambition had been so thoroughly aroused, he already
began to realize what the stress of competition meant, and it was clear
enough to him that the bigger the city the more there were ready to
fill every opening. Miss Drummond's encouraging statement about her
grandfather had taken deep hold upon the boy's mind, and there were
times when he was bold enough to indulge in day-dreams having a similar
fulfilment.
"I guess you'd stand as good a chance of holding your way as the most
of boys, Terry," said Captain Afleck, giving him a kindly pat on the
head. "You've got lots of grit in ye, and that's the sort of thing
that counts in these big places. But what's that? There's mischief
going on down there. Come, let's see what's up."
They were by this time on their way back to the railway station, and
were just crossing a narrow dark side street, when there came to them
through the stillness of the night a muffled cry for help, followed by
the sound of heavy blows.
Captain Afleck carried a stout stick, and grasping this firmly, he sped
down the street in the direction whence the sounds had come, Terry
keeping close at his heels.
In the very narrowest and darkest part of the street they almost fell
over a group of three men, one being prostrate on the ground, while the
other two bent over him, evidently engaged in rifling his pockets.
Shouting "Take that, you rascal!" the brawny captain struck one of the
highwaymen a sounding whack across the shoulders with his stick, and
the next instant tumbled the other over with his left fist. The
astounded scoundrels as soon as they recovered themselves made off at
full speed; and when assured of their departure, Captain Afleck turned
his attention to the victim of their violence.
It was too dark at that spot to make out the extent of his injuries,
so, with Terry's aid, he was dragged towards a lamp-post.
They had just placed him upon some steps, and were endeavouring to
loosen his neckcloth, for he was quite insensible, when there suddenly
appeared two big policemen, who made haste to arrest them with great
show of zeal.
Neither protests nor explanations were of any avail. A respectable
citizen returning quietly home had been brutally assaulted in the
public street. The captain and Terry had been caught red-handed (as a
matter of fact they did both have blood upon their hands, got from the
wound on the poor man's head, which was badly cut), and they must
answer for it at the police court in the morning.
Other policemen were whistled for, and the still insensible man was
sent to hospital in a cab, while his two unlucky rescuers were marched
off to the station-house, where they spent a miserable night in
separate cells.
Not only that night but the whole of the next day were they kept in
confinement, the injuries of the "respectable citizen" being too severe
to permit of his appearing in court; and it was not until the following
day that they were brought up for examination.
Terry went before the police magistrate with quaking knees and beating
heart. Not that any sense of guilt filled him with fear, but because
his whole past experience in Halifax had been such as to make the
minions of the law objects of terror to him; and now that he was in
their clutches in a foreign land, his lively imagination conceived all
sorts of dire consequences in spite of his big companion's attempts at
comfort.
Captain Afleck, on the other hand, was in a state of furious
indignation. The moment he got a chance to open his mouth he intended
to give the American authorities a piece of his mind, and threaten them
with the vengeance of the British nation for committing so
unwarrantable an indignity upon one of its honest and loyal members.
A number of cases had precedence of theirs, and they watched the
proceedings with very different feelings--Terry wondering, as he heard
sentence after sentence pronounced by the magistrate in his hard, dry,
monotonous voice, what penalty would be theirs if he and the captain
could not clear themselves; while the captain, nursing his wrath to
keep it warm, gave vent to a succession of wrathful grunts as he saw
the succession of miserable, unwashed, demoralized creatures with whom
he was for the time associated.
At length the rest of the docket had been cleared, and their case was
called. It had been left to the last because of its being the most
serious on the list for the day. Just as the captain and Terry were
being arraigned, there appeared in court a middle-aged man, whose
carefully-bandaged head, pale countenance, and general air of weakness
betokened him to be the victim of the assault.
As the two prisoners stood up to answer to their names and the charge
made against them by Policeman No. 399, it was evident that their
appearance created a good deal of surprise. They certainly did not
look at all like the ordinary criminals. The case promised to be one
of special interest, and the spectators adjusted themselves so as to
see and hear to the best advantage.
But if they expected an interesting hour of it they were doomed to be
disappointed; for no sooner had the injured man raised his eyes to look
at the accused of having waylaid him than he gave a start, and the
colour mounted to his pallid face.
"These are not the men," he exclaimed. "There's some mistake. The men
that assaulted me were short and stout, and they were both men--not a
man and a boy."
His words created a decided sensation. The countenance of the zealous
bluecoats who had effected the arrest, and expected praise for their
efficient performance, grew suddenly long while the magistrate turned
upon them a look of stern inquiry, saying,--
"What's the meaning of this? Have you been making some serious
blunder?"
Captain Afleck now had his opportunity, and he used it gloriously,
pouring forth the vials of his wrath as he told his story, until at
last the magistrate, entirely satisfied, stopped the stream of his
eloquence with uplifted hand, and proceeded to say, in a tone that
showed genuine feeling,--
"You have been the victims of a very unfortunate blunder, for which I
wish it were in my power to make some reparation. As it is, all I can
do is to express my profound regret, and to put you at once at liberty."
Amid a buzz of applause the captain and Terry made their way out into
the street, the boy hardly able to restrain his impulse to leap and
shout for joy, but the man still grumbling and growling at the
aggravation he had been so undeservedly compelled to endure.
Once more in the open air, Terry's first thought was to get away as
fast as possible.
"Let us be off to the station," he cried. "Mebbe there's a train goin'
soon."
This made the captain think of the railway passes, and he thrust his
hand into the pocket where he kept his wallet. The pocket was empty!
He tried the other pockets, but they were in the same condition! The
passes and the remainder of his money were gone, stolen by some clever
pickpocket that very morning perchance. He turned upon Terry a face
full of consternation.
"I've been robbed, Terry," said he hoarsely. "We can't go to Boston
to-day; I've lost the passes, and all my money too."