LAYING OUT A PLAN OF OPERATIONS
Christy had deposited his valise in a place where it was not likely to
be seen unless a search was made for it. There was no one in the ward
room to obstruct his advance to the captain's cabin. He had served as
acting-commander of the vessel in a voyage from New York to the Gulf,
and been the executive officer on board for a short term, and he was
perfectly at home in every part of her. In the conspiracy on his last
voyage in the Bronx, Pink Mulgrum had concealed himself under the
berth in the captain's stateroom, where Dave, the cabin steward, had
discovered him, though he might have remained there a month if his
hiding-place had not been suspected.
Christy thought this would be an excellent retreat for him, not only
because it promised him the greatest security, but because it would
permit him to hear what passed between the pretended commander and
others, especially Mr. Galvinne. He had been reasonably confident of
returning to the gunboat when he went to the North as prize master,
though not as her commander, and he had left his trunk on board.
It was a humiliating posture for the actual commander of the vessel, but
he promptly got down upon the floor of the stateroom, and crawled under
the berth. He placed the trunk and some other articles there so as to
form a sort of breast-work, behind which he carefully bestowed himself.
It was not an uncomfortable position, for the floor was carpeted and an
old satchel filled with his cast-off garments furnished him a pillow
sufficiently soft for a person on extraordinary duty.
The cabin was to be occupied by Corny, though his cousin had no doubt
that Mr. Galvinne was the real leader in the adventure of capturing the
steamer. Both of them would be obliged to keep up appearances for the
present. Christy's first thought after he had settled himself in his
new quarters related to the cabin steward, who had served him very
faithfully, and whom he had brought off in the Teaser, the former name
of the Bronx. He had no doubt he was still on board, and probably acting
in his former capacity, for Mr. Flint knew that he was attached to the
man for the service he had rendered, not only to him but to his country.
He was absolutely sure that Dave could be trusted under any and all
circumstances, and the first thing he did would be to make a connection
with him.
Christy became rather impatient because the Bronx did not get under
way; but he concluded from such sounds as came to his ears that she
was taking in shot, shells, and powder, as well as stores and supplies.
At any rate, neither Corny nor his first lieutenant came into the cabin,
so far as he could ascertain. But he had not been in his hiding-place
an hour before he heard a noise in the adjoining apartment. It was not
the commander, for the noise was an occasional rapping; it was not an
unfamiliar sound to him, for he had often heard it before when he lay in
his berth. Dave was a remarkably neat person, and he was always dusting
the cabin and stateroom when he had nothing else to do. He was sure that
the rapping was caused by the steward's feather duster.
In a few minutes, when he had made the cabin tidy for the reception of
"Massa Cap'n Passford," he transferred his labors to the stateroom. He
worked in the berth and all its surroundings, including the desk, which
still contained the real commander's papers, and then gave his attention
to the trunk beneath.
"Dave," said Christy, after he had obtained a view of the back of the
steward's head which satisfied him that he was the right man.
"Mullygumps!" exclaimed Dave, as he suspended his labors on the trunk.
No doubt he was greatly surprised to hear his name, pronounced as though
it came up through the deck, as he had abundant reason to be.
"Dave," repeated Christy, in a more decided tone after he had heard the
voice of the steward.
"Is that you, Pink Mulgrum?" demanded Dave. "I give you the whole State
of Alabama, but I thought we done rid of you long ago. Who's there?"
"Don't you know me, Dave?" asked Christy, speaking out plainly so that
the steward might recognize his voice.
"Maggywogs! That sounds like Massa Christy's voice; but I done seen him
on deck five or ten minutes ago."
"No, you didn't, Dave; that was Corny," replied Christy.
"Gollywops! But he was in command of the Bronx, for I done seen Mr.
Flint hand it over to him. Go 'way! You can't fool this colored person."
"I tell you the truth, Dave; but things are mixed," added Christy.
"I believe you; they be mixed if you be the captain when I done seen him
on deck just now."
"Sit down on the floor, Dave, and I will tell you all about it,"
continued Christy, though the difficulty of convincing the steward was
not unexpected.
"Let me see your face before you told me anything," persisted Dave, as
he pulled out one end of the trunk, and dropped upon his knees where he
could see under the berth.
Christy crawled to the front of the berth, and thrust his head out into
the stateroom in as natural a position as he could place it.
"Wollywogs! You look like Massa Christy, for sure," exclaimed Dave, as
he gave himself up to a study of the face presented to him. "But the
captain looks like Massa Christy too."
"You have never seen my cousin Corny, I believe, Dave; but he looks like
me. Now sit down, and I will tell you all about it."
"I never saw Massa Corny; but I done hear enough about him when I was at
Bonnydale. Show me your knife and your watch, Massa Christy."
He complied with the request, as he saw that it was a very simple means
of identification, for the steward had some skill as a mechanic, and
he had frequently sharpened the knife, and knew the repeater of the
lieutenant from having seen it so often, for it was a very peculiar
watch. Dave's last doubt vanished when these articles were produced.
"But the other Massa Passford looks just like you," added Dave.
"If you saw us together you would not mistake him for me," replied
Christy, as he proceeded to explain the situation to the steward, upon
whom he depended for very important assistance.
He related the incidents which had occurred at Bonnydale, the loss of
his commission and orders, and the decision of Captain Battleton against
him, concluding with the statement that he was then a prisoner of war,
but had made his escape from the place where he had been required to
remain.
"A prisoner of war!" exclaimed the steward. "The commander of the ship a
prisoner!"
"That is exactly the situation, Dave. Can you tell me what they are
doing on deck?" asked Christy, who began to feel more hopeful of the
future.
"The Bronx is taking in provisions, stores, and ammunition. They say the
captain has his orders, but I don't know about that."
"Can you tell me what position Mr. Flint has on board?"
"He's just what he was before, when you was on board; he is the second
lieutenant, and we have a new man for first, I believe they call him
Gallivan," replied Dave, who was intelligent enough to comprehend what
he saw on deck.
"His name is Galvinne, and he was second lieutenant of the Vernon; but
he is a Confederate. I think he is to be the real commander of the Bronx
if they succeed in getting her into Pensacola," added Christy.
"Into Pensacola!" exclaimed the steward, aghast at the remark.
"Of course my cousin Corny intends to hand the vessel over to the
Confederate government."
"Gollywompus! My old master will get me back then!" groaned Dave, who
had been very happy in his new service and at Bonnydale where he had
spent considerable of his time while Christy was waiting for the fitting
out of the Bronx. "I think I had better get on board of the flag-ship
right off."
"Don't do it, Dave, for I hope to save the vessel to the Union, and you
can render me the most important service in this matter," added Christy.
"Then I stay for sure; I don't go back on you, Massa Christy," protested
the steward warmly.
"Thank you, Dave."
"There ain't no hole in this millstone for me," continued Dave, suddenly
becoming very thoughtful. "I don't see how Massa Corny can run away with
the steamer when she has her officers and crew on board."
"I have just told you that the first lieutenant is a Confederate
officer; and I have not yet learned who is the third lieutenant. Among
the crew I know there are at least four men, and there may be twenty of
them, who are to take part in this plot. The loyal men will not be
likely to interfere with the officers unless they have a leader. The
fact that the Bronx is headed into a Confederate port would not create a
rebellion on board unless they were informed of the actual situation. By
the time the Union men found out the plot, it would be too late for them
to do anything, for the vessel would be under the guns of the forts."
"But what are we going to do, Massa Christy?" asked the steward, dazzled
by the situation.
"We must recapture the vessel before she gets into port; and what I want
most now is to see Mr. Flint. You must fix the matter in some way, Dave,
so that I can see him. Now go on deck, and ascertain what is going on
there. If you get a chance, speak to Mr. Flint; but be extremely
careful."
"You can trust Dave, Massa Christy," replied the steward, as the officer
drew back into his hiding-place.
Dave arranged the trunk and other articles to the best advantage for the
concealment of the lieutenant, and then left the stateroom. Christy, as
soon as he had become acquainted with the situation, had arranged his
plan of action, and the new officers of the Bronx were likely to
encounter a mutiny, either to inaugurate or end their sway. In less than
half an hour, the steward returned to the stateroom with the information
that he had spoken to the second lieutenant, and informed him that the
real commander of the Bronx was concealed under the berth in the
captain's stateroom.
"Mr. Flint has not had his breakfast yet, and he will come below for it
very soon," added Dave. "He was just coming down for it when he got the
signal to come alongside the flag-ship."
"Did Mr. Flint say anything?" asked Christy.
"Not a word, sir; only said he would be down to his breakfast in a few
minutes."
The lieutenant took out his memorandum book, and looked at the names of
the men he had spotted as disloyal, Rockton and Warton, to which he had
added two others, Nichols and Swayne, after he had observed that they
were very intimate with the two whose names he had learned from their
own mouths.
[Illustration: Dave Identifies Christy.--Page 130.]
"Now, Dave, I have another commission for you to execute," continued
Christy, as he tore out the leaf on which he had written the names. "Not
less than twenty-five of the crew of the Bronx came from New York in the
Vernon. One of them is Ralph Pennant, and he is an intelligent man, and
one that can be trusted. You will see him. Tell him the commander is an
impostor. Do you know what an impostor is, Dave?"
"I reckon I do, sir; your cousin Corny is an impostor," replied the
steward promptly.
"You will find this man, and give him this paper. The names on it are
those of disloyal men. Tell him to look out for them, and find out as
far as he can who are true to the Union."
Christy had hardly finished his instructions to the steward before he
heard footsteps in the cabin. Dave looked into the apartment and
discovered Mr. Flint, who went into the stateroom at once.