THE SKIPPER OF THE SLOOP MAGNOLIA
"You were very unwise to order these men to fire upon the boat," said
the dignified gentleman, addressing the man on the forecastle of the
Magnolia; "it was a great mistake, Captain Flanger."
"That's so!" exclaimed Mr. Pennant, feeling of his left arm as he spoke;
for he had been wounded there, though the injury had not for a moment
abated his energy.
"I did not mean to allow the sloop to be captured by a boat load of men
like that," replied Captain Flanger; "and if our men had used their
bayonets we should have been all right. I told them to fix their
bayonets, but they paid no attention to me."
"It was a great mistake," repeated the dignified gentleman, shaking his
head.
Mr. Pennant had time now to look over the craft he had captured, and the
men on board of her. It was simply a large sailboat, and those on board
of her wore plain clothes. They did not appear to be soldiers or
sailors, though there was a number of bayonets scattered about the
standing room. The seamen from the cutter had leaped on board of the
sloop, with cutlasses in their belts; but there was not space enough to
permit the use of the weapon, and they had seized each of the men by the
collar and put a pistol to his head.
"How many men have you on board, Captain Flanger?" demanded the third
lieutenant, still standing up in the boat abreast of the person he
addressed.
"Count them for yourself!" exclaimed Captain Flanger in brutal tones.
"All right: I will count you first," added Mr. Pennant, as he reached
over and seized the leader of the party by the collar with his right
hand.
[Illustration: Colonel Homer Passford Visits the Bronx.--Page 219.]
Flanger attempted to shake off his grasp, but the lieutenant was a very
powerful man, and he dragged him into the boat in the twinkling of an
eye. He tossed him into the bottom of the boat, five of the boat's crew
being still in their seats, trailing their oars, for only seven of them
had been able to get on board of the Magnolia for the want of space.
"Tie his hands behind him," added Mr. Pennant to the men, who fell upon
Flanger the moment he lighted in the bottom of the cutter.
The prisoner was disposed to make further resistance, but two men fell
upon him and made him fast to one of the thwarts. The leader of the
party, as he appeared to be from the first, could do no further
mischief, and the lieutenant gave his attention to the others on board
of the sloop. The dignified gentleman, who was dressed in black clothes,
though they had suffered not a little from contact with grease and tar,
had seated himself in the standing room. He looked like a man of many
sorrows, and his expression indicated that he was suffering from some
cause not apparent.
There were nine men left in the standing room, including the gentleman
in black; they were coarse and rough-looking persons, and not one of
them appeared to be the social peer of him who had condemned the firing
upon the boat. The skipper remained at the tiller of the boat, and he
looked as though he might have negro blood in his veins, though he was
not black, and probably was an octoroon. He said nothing and did
nothing, and had not used a musket when the others fired. He behaved as
though he intended to be entirely neutral. A few drops of negro blood in
his veins was enough to condemn him to inferiority with the rude fellows
on board of the sloop, though his complexion was lighter than that of
any of his companions.
"Vincent, pass one half of the men on board of the cutter," said Mr.
Pennant, when he had looked over the boat and the men on board of it.
The quartermaster obeyed the order, and four of the party were placed
in the bow and stern sheets of the cutter. Six oarsmen were directed
to take their places on the thwarts. The lieutenant retained his place
in the stern sheets, which he had not left during the affray or the
conference. Three seamen, with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the
other, were directed to remain on board of the sloop; but the party had
been disarmed, and their muskets were in the bottom of the cutter, and
they were not likely to attempt any resistance. The painter of the sloop
was made fast to the stern of the Bronx's boat, and Mr. Pennant gave the
order for the crew to give way.
It had been a battle on a small scale, but the victory had been won, and
the cutter was towing her prize in the direction of the gunboat. The
lieutenant's first care was to attend to Hilton, the stroke oarsman who
had been wounded in the affair. He placed him in a comfortable position
on the bottom of the boat, and then examined into his condition.
A bullet had struck him in the right side, and the blood was flowing
freely from the wound. Mr. Pennant did the best he could for his relief,
and the man said he was comfortable.
"Sail ahead!" shouted the bow oarsman, looking behind him.
"What is it, Gorman?" asked the lieutenant, standing up in his place.
"A steamer, sir," answered Gorman.
"I see her; it is the Bronx," added Mr. Pennant.
By this time it was broad daylight, and apparently the fog was not as
dense as it had been earlier in the morning. The boat with her tow
continued on her course, now headed for the gunboat which the officer
had made out. In ten minutes more the expedition was within hailing
distance of the steamer, which immediately stopped her screw.
The cutter came up at the gangway of the Bronx, and Christy was standing
on the rail, anxious to learn what the boat had accomplished. He had
heard the report of the volley fired at the cutter, and had been very
solicitous for the safety of her crew. He had weighed anchor as soon as
he heard the sounds, and proceeded in the direction from which they
came.
"I have to report the capture of the small sloop, the Magnolia, in tow,"
said the third lieutenant, touching his cap to the commander. "We have
eleven prisoners. Hilton is wounded, and I will send him on board first,
if you please."
"Do so," replied Christy. "Mr. Camden, pass the word for Dr. Connelly."
A couple of men were directed to convey the wounded seaman up the steps,
and he was handed over to the doctor, who had him conveyed to the sick
bay. The obdurate Captain Flanger was next sent up to the deck, where
Mr. Camden received him, and made him fast to the rail without note
or comment; and even Christy made no remark except to give necessary
orders. The other prisoners were not bound, and they were put under
guard in the waist. The dignified gentleman in black was the last to
come up the stairs.
The moment he put his feet upon the deck, the commander stepped back,
with a look of profound astonishment, if not of dismay, on his face, as
he glanced at the important prisoner of the party. At first he seemed to
be unable to believe the evidence of his senses, and gazed with intense
earnestness at the gentleman.
"Uncle Homer!" exclaimed Christy, extending his hand to him, which
Colonel Passford, as he was called at home, though he was not in the
Confederate army, warmly grasped; and the first smile that had been seen
on his face played upon his lips.
"I am glad to see you, Christy," said the prisoner, if he was to be
regarded as such, for he certainly was not a sailor or a soldier.
"I cannot say as much as that," replied Christy, still holding the
gentleman's hand; "I must say I am sorry to see you under present
circumstances, for you come as a prisoner in the hands of my men."
"I am a non-combatant, Christy," replied Colonel Passford. "I have not
served in the Confederate army or navy, or even been a member of a home
guard."
"I have not time now to look into that question; but I can assure you
that you will be treated with the greatest consideration on board of my
ship," added Christy as he conducted him below, and left him with Dave
in his own cabin, returning at once to the deck to inquire into the
operations of the first cutter. The boat had been hoisted up to the
davits, and the Magnolia was made fast astern. All hands had been called
when the Bronx got under way, and the men were all at their stations.
Mr. Pennant reported in all its details upon his expedition. Dr.
Connelly said his patient was severely, but not dangerously, wounded; he
would recover, but he would not be fit for duty for two or three weeks.
"While you are here, doctor, I will show you my arm, which is beginning
to be somewhat uncomfortable," said the third lieutenant with a cheerful
smile.
"Are you wounded, Mr. Pennant?" asked the commander, who had listened to
his report at length, without suspecting that he had a wound.
"I was hit in the left arm; but very fortunately the wound did not
disable me," replied the lieutenant as he proceeded to take off his
coat.
"But I cannot dress the wound here, Mr. Pennant," added the surgeon.
"Then I will wait till I have time to attend to it," replied the heroic
officer who treated the injury with contempt; "I have not finished my
report to the captain yet. I will be in the ward room as soon as the
captain is done with me."
"But I can wait, Mr. Pennant," interposed Christy.
"So can I, if you please, captain," added the lieutenant, smiling as
pleasantly as though he had been free from pain, as he could not have
been with the wound in his arm. "I wish to say a few words about the
gentleman in black we captured on board of the sloop."
"Did you learn his name?" asked Christy, greatly interested in what the
officer was about to say.
"No, sir, I did not; I heard no one call him by name. He was in the
cuddy forward when we boarded the Magnolia; and when he came out of the
little cabin, the first thing he said was, 'It was very unwise for you
to order the men to fire upon the boat. It was a great mistake, Captain
Flanger.'"
"That shows that he at least was a non-combatant," added Christy,
pleased to hear this report of his uncle.
"That is all I have to say about him. I studied the skipper of the sloop
and watched him. I am sure he did not fire a musket, and he seemed to
take no part in the affairs of the men on board. Captain Flanger is the
active man of the party; but I have no idea who or what he is. If you
look at the skipper, you will see that he is an octoroon, or something
between a mulatto and a white man, and in my opinion he is not a
cheerful worker on that side of the house. Perhaps the skipper will
be willing to tell you who and what the party are. They claimed to be
private citizens, and that the sloop was bound to Appalachicola; perhaps
the gentleman in black can explain the mission of the party."
"If he can he will not, if they were engaged in an operation in the
interest of the Confederates," added Christy with a smile. "That
gentleman is Colonel Homer Passford."
"He bears your name," said Mr. Pennant.
"He is my uncle; my father's only brother."
"Then I am sorry I brought him in."
"You did your duty, and it was quite right for you to bring him on
board. He is as devoted to the Confederate cause as my father is to the
Union. But go below, and have your wound dressed, Mr. Pennant."
The lieutenant went to the ward room where the surgeon was waiting for
him. Christy called out the skipper of the sloop, and walked into the
waist with him. The octoroon was a large man, of about the size of the
third lieutenant, and he could have made a good deal of mischief if he
had been so disposed.
"Bless the Lord that I am here at last!" exclaimed the skipper, as he
looked furtively about him.
Christy understood him perfectly.