A MORAL PHILOSOPHER.
The temporary berth was finished, the bedding put into it, and Christy
took possession of it. For the present he had done all the thinking he
cared to do, and he felt that his present duty was in action. He was a
prisoner of war, and as such he was in disgrace in a loyal ship's
company; at least, he felt that he was so under present circumstances.
He was not disgusted at his failure to establish his identity, nor
disheartened at the prospect before him. More than ever before in the
two years of his experience as a naval officer, he realized that it was
his duty to "Stand by the Union."
The watch below were all around him. Some of them were mending their
clothes, others were reading newspapers they had brought with them, but
the greater part of them were in squads engaged in talking about the
events of the war. The nearest group to Christy were conversing about
the two lieutenants who claimed to be the real officer ordered to the
command of the Bronx. It seemed rather strange to the listener that they
should know anything about the events which had happened in the secrecy
of the captain's cabin, and this circumstance led him to believe that at
least one of the officers of the ship must be a confederate of Corny.
There was nothing necessarily secret in the proceedings in the cabin,
and the stewards might have heard what was said in the ward room after
the decision had been rendered, reporting it to members of the crew,
who had circulated it as the latest news. At any rate, the group near
Christy were talking about the two officers who claimed to be Lieutenant
Passford. They spoke in low tones, and Christy could hardly hear what
they said. His berth was ready for him, and he concluded to lie down in
it. He took no notice of the speakers, and soon pretended to be asleep.
"Do you know who is in that berth, Warton?" asked one of the four men,
speaking in a low tone, but loud enough to enable Christy to hear him.
"I don't know; do you, Rockton?" replied the one addressed; and it was
evident to the listener that the men were at least persons of average
education with but little of the common sailor in it.
"I do; one of the officers told me all about it not half an hour
ago," answered Rockton. "The fellow who is asleep there is the other
Passford."
"Is that so? Then we mustn't talk here," added Warton, apparently
somewhat alarmed. "Who told you so?"
"I said one of the officers; and you know as well as I do which one."
The speakers said no more, but leaving the locality near the berth, they
moved forward in a body. Christy was sorry he was not to hear any more
of the conversation; but he felt that he had made some progress in his
work. He had obtained the names of two of the men, and ascertained that
one of the officers in the ward room was a Confederate. With this
information he could the more readily obtain more. Christy did not wish
to sleep, and he felt that he could not afford to spend his time in that
way. He sat up in the berth, and wrote the two names he had heard in his
pocket-diary, in order to make sure that he did not forget them. While
he was thus engaged Dr. Connelly came into the quarters of the crew.
"Well, Mr. Passford, are you all right?" asked the surgeon, as soon as
he discovered Christy in the dim light of the place.
"All right in every respect," replied the young officer cheerfully.
"You are not sea-sick?" inquired the doctor, laughing.
"Sea-sick! No, sir; I believe I never was sea-sick in my life."
"You are more fortunate than your cousin, for he is having quite a hard
time of it," added the doctor, who seemed to be very much amused that
the future commander of the Bronx, who had been to sea so much, should
be afflicted in this manner.
"He was always sea-sick when he first went out, and it appears that he
has not yet got over the habit. He was so badly off on one occasion that
my father thought of taking him on shore, and sending him back to Mobile
by land."
"Do you refer to the lieutenant appointed to the command of the Bronx on
our arrival in the Gulf?" asked Dr. Connelly, laughing.
"I do not; I am that person myself," replied Christy very decidedly. "By
the way, I wonder that the commander did not subject the two claimants
to an examination in navigation and seamanship. It might have thrown
some light on the subject."
"Probably Captain Battleton did not think of that, taking it for granted
that you were both sailors; but the other Mr. Passford is not in
condition to undergo such an examination at present."
"I do not ask for it, though of course I am anxious to have the truth
come out, for just now I am in disgrace as an impostor, to say nothing
of being regarded as an enemy of the Union," replied Christy. "He
who occupies a stateroom in the steamer is my own cousin, and the
pleasantest relations have always subsisted between our families. I have
nothing against him personally, and I would do him a kindness as readily
as ever before in my life."
"But he has placed you in a very awkward position, Mr. Passford."
"I am willing to believe that he is doing his duty to his country, and
his grand mistake is in believing that the fraction of it in rebellion
is his country."
"If you are the genuine Lieutenant Passford, in spite of the captain's
decision, your cousin has told lies enough to-day to swamp a reprobate,
to to say nothing of a Christian," added the surgeon, seating himself at
the side of the berth.
"I do not regard his statements as lies in any proper sense of the word,
Dr. Connelly," replied Christy with considerable spirit. "I have had
occasion to deceive the enemy on several occasions; and nearly two years
ago I looked up the morality of lying on the field of battle and its
surroundings. I think my father is as good a Christian man as draws the
breath of life, and I found that I simply held to his opinions."
"Your father is good authority," added the surgeon.
"I studied history a little in relation to this subject, for I wanted
to know whether any lies I might tell in serving my country were to
be registered against me. I know that I would not tell a lie in the
ordinary relations of life; but I am sure that I should have been a
traitor to the Union if I had told the enemy the simple truth on several
occasions. I captured a schooner loaded with cotton by pretending to be
what I was not. If it is justifiable to kill a man in war, it must be
justifiable to tell a lie to the enemy."
"I think you are right, Mr. Passford. You spoke of history."
"George Washington is regarded as one who could not tell a lie from the
time the little hatchet story had birth to the end of the Revolution. We
read that he strongly impressed Clinton with the belief that he intended
to attack New York; and the school history says that this deception was
so successfully practised, that Washington was some distance on his way
to Virginia before Clinton suspected where he was leading his army.
"Bancroft says that Clinton was deceived by letters which were written
to be intercepted. The books say that Washington used every art in his
power to deceive Clinton. He wrote letters containing the barefaced
lie that he intended to attack New York when he intended to attack
Cornwallis. It was not a mere white lie, for he intended to deceive. We
don't regard Washington as a liar, and he was not a liar in any proper
sense of the word. All the high-toned generals on both sides in the
present war do not hesitate to deceive the enemy, for it is a part of
their duty to do so. In my judgment, a lie that is acted is the same as
a spoken lie."
"You are a moral philosopher, Mr. Passford," said the surgeon, laughing
at the earnestness of the speaker.
"Hardly, doctor; I looked up the subject for my own benefit. I simply
mean to say that I do not consider my cousin a liar," replied Christy,
who was an earnest debater when he became warm in his subject.
Dr. Connelly left him, and made his tour of inspection among the men.
The steamer was still rolling heavily, and the prisoner found himself
more comfortable in his berth than on the lower deck. He had not yet
learned whether or not he was to remain confined in his present
quarters, and when the surgeon returned from his tour, he asked him
to inquire of the captain in regard to his limits. He was informed that
he could go on deck for an hour in the forenoon, and an hour in the
afternoon. It was nearly night and he did not avail himself of this
permission.
For the next three days it blew a gale, moderating at times, and then
piping up again. To a sailor it was not bad weather, but Christy learned
from the surgeon that his cousin was confined to his berth during all
this time. The prisoner went on deck for the time permitted each
forenoon and afternoon. He had his eyes wide open all the time, on the
lookout for anything that would afford him further information in regard
to the plot in the midst of which he was living.
He identified Rockton and Warton, but not the other two who had formed
the group near his berth, on his first visit to the deck. On the fourth
day out, he saw one of these men talking cautiously to the second
lieutenant. Following up this clew he satisfied himself that Mr.
Galvinne was the black sheep in the officers' quarters. Corny came on
deck that day, for the sea was comparatively smooth, and took a seat on
the quarter-deck.
Christy did not go near him, but he watched him very closely. He had not
long to wait before Mr. Galvinne, who was then the officer of the deck,
spoke to him, and they had quite a long conversation. He could not hear
a word of it; but the fact that they were intimate enough to hold what
appeared to be a confidential interview was enough to satisfy the
prisoner that the second lieutenant was the principle confederate of his
cousin. How many of the crew were "packed" for the enterprise he could
form no idea.
The weather continued favorable till the end of the cruise, and then on
the eighth day the Vernon arrived near her destination off Pensacola
Bay. Thus far no attempt had been made to capture the steamer, and the
plot was as dark as it had been in the beginning. Christy thought that
Corny was becoming somewhat nervous when the vessels of the squadron
were made out in the distance.
"There appear to be only three steamers in sight," said the captain, who
had come into the waist to observe the fleet.
"That is the flag-ship, I think, anchored the farthest from the shore,"
replied Mr. Galvinne, to whom the remark had been addressed.
"I suppose that is the Bronx astern of her," added Captain Battleton.
"It is the smallest of the three, at any rate. Mr. Salisbury, you will
run directly for the flag-ship," he added to the executive officer on
the quarter-deck.
Christy recognized the Bronx if others did not, for none of the officers
had been on this station before. He wondered if the present deception
was likely to be carried out to the accomplishment of the end the
conspirators had in view. He could see nothing to prevent its
accomplishment.
"I must ask you to report below, Mr. Passford," said the captain rather
sternly; and perhaps he did not care to be charged with over-indulgence
of his prisoner.
He bowed submissively, and went to his berth in the men's quarters. The
anchor had been cast loose, and the cable put in condition to run out.
Christy had hardly reached his berth before he heard the rattle of the
chain, and the voyage was ended.