THE STRANGER IN THE CAPTAIN'S CABIN
The Bronx had been absent from the station hardly more than thirty
hours; but she had accomplished the mission with which she had been
charged in her secret orders. The Vernon was still at anchor near the
flag-ship. Christy hastened on board of the latter to make his report,
which he had written out during the passage; in fact, he had two
reports, one of the capture of the Bronx, and the other of the
Floridian.
"You have done your work very promptly, Captain Passford," said the
commodore with a smile.
"The circumstances favored me, sir," replied Christy, bowing. "I desire
to call your attention to the first of the two reports I submit, for the
first battle I was called upon to fight was on board of the Bronx."
"On board of the Bronx!" exclaimed the flag-officer. "Do you mean that
you had a mutiny to suppress?"
"I had not the honor to communicate with you yesterday before the Bronx
sailed for her destination; but I believe you were called upon to decide
upon the identity of the officer who presented himself to you as the
lieutenant appointed to the command of the Bronx, introduced by Captain
Battleton of the Vernon."
"I was hardly called upon to decide anything, for the matter in doubt
had been settled by the commander of the Vernon before it came to my
knowledge; but I agreed with him that the commission ought to settle the
point. Are you not the officer presented to me by Captain Battleton,
Captain Passford?" asked the commodore, gazing earnestly into the face
of Christy.
"I am not, sir."
"You are not! Who are you, then?"
"I am Lieutenant Christopher Passford."
"Who was the other officer?"
"He was not an officer, either of the navy or the army, but my cousin,
Cornelius Passford, a soldier in the Confederate army."
"I am amazed, and I fear the officers in charge at Brooklyn are not as
cautious as they should be. Not long ago a steamer had to return to the
navy-yard there because her machinery had been tampered with; and the
enemy are putting men on board of steamers for the purpose of capturing
them. Where is your cousin now, Captain Passford?"
"He is a prisoner on board of the Bronx, with two Confederate naval
officers who were his associates in the conspiracy; and we have also two
seamen," replied Christy, who proceeded to give the narrative in full of
the work done on board of the Bronx on the evening of the day she sailed
from the station.
The sea was smooth, and the commander of the Bronx was directed to bring
her alongside the flag-ship. As soon as this was done, all the prisoners
on board of her were transferred to the custody of the commodore.
Christy introduced his uncle Homer to the flag-officer, suggesting that
he was a non-combatant, and stating that he had offered to put him on
shore at St. Andrew's Island.
"I think you are correct in your view, Captain Passford, though probably
he is of more service to the Confederate government, as your father is
to our own, than a score of sailors or soldiers; but modern civilization
does not hold civilians as prisoners of war. Besides, he is doing so
much to provide our vessels with prizes in the matter of cotton ships,
that it would be a pity to take him out of his sphere of usefulness to
us," added the commodore with a smile.
"The other men in the sloop, with the exception of the skipper, fired
upon my boat, and wounded an officer and a seaman."
"They were taken in arms, and therefore they are prisoners. But you lost
all your commissioned officers but one in the affair on board of the
Bronx, Captain Passford."
"I did, sir; and I was obliged to fill their places;" and Christy
described the men he had appointed.
"There are no officers here that I can give you in their places, and I
am obliged to order you away immediately on another expedition. The
Floridian is a valuable prize; and I must send her to New York, for I am
confident the government will purchase her for the navy. Your acting
lieutenants must continue to serve as such for the present."
"I ask for no better officers, sir. They are well educated, and have
had a great deal of experience as sailors outside of the navy," replied
Christy.
At this time the preparations for the reduction of the forts on the
Mississippi were in progress, and every available vessel was called into
activity. The Bronx had been built for a blockade-runner, and for a
steamer of her size she was of exceptional speed. The vessels of the
Eastern Gulf squadron were employed to a considerable extent in
destroying salt works on the west coast of Florida; but the commodore
was not disposed to order the fleet little gunboat upon such service.
"Is the Bronx in condition for immediate service, Captain Passford?"
asked the flag-officer.
"She is, sir; she has not been in action since her crew was reinforced,"
answered Christy.
"I did not expect your return so soon, but I have your sealed orders
ready. You will get under way as soon as possible," added the commodore,
handing him the sealed envelope. "You will make your course south-west,
and open your orders at twelve o'clock to-night."
The commander of the Bronx left the cabin where the interview had taken
place. On the deck he met his uncle, who was curious to know what was to
be done with him.
"I can only say that you will not be held as a prisoner of war; but I
must leave you in the hands of the flag-officer, who will dispose of you
as he thinks best. I sail in the Bronx immediately."
Christy hastened on board of his vessel, after hastily shaking hands
with uncle Homer. All the prisoners had been removed from her, and the
commodore had sent a ship's company to the Floridian to relieve the
prize crew in charge of her. He had only to wait for Mr. Flint and the
men attached to the Bronx; and they came on board within an hour.
"You will call all hands, Mr. Flint," said the commander, as soon as the
executive officer appeared on the deck; and the call of the boatswain's
mate sounded through the vessel.
"I came on board to pay my respects to you, Captain Passford," said
Captain Battleton of the Vernon, who had been waiting for him. "Things
have changed since I last saw you. I do not know whether I ought to
apologize to you for my decision on board of the Vernon, or not."
"Not at all, Captain Battleton," replied Christy, taking the hand of the
commander of the store-ship. "The flag-officer sustained your decision;
and with my commission in the pocket of my cousin, I do not see that you
could have adjusted the question in any other manner. I assure you I
have not a particle of ill-feeling towards you on account of what you
did in the discharge of your duty."
"But I do not quite understand the matter yet. You disappeared very
suddenly; and when I wanted to present you to the commodore, you could
not be found," added the captain of the Vernon. "I am very curious to
know what became of you."
"I came on board of the Bronx, and put myself in a place where you
were least likely to look for me,--under the berth in the captain's
stateroom. I was at home there, for I had occupied the room while I was
the acting commander of the vessel on her voyage to the Gulf. But you
must excuse me now, for I am ordered to get under way at once; and the
ship's company of the Floridian have reported on board."
"I may yet be called upon to serve under you some time in the future;
and I did not wish to have any prejudice against me on account of my
decision, in which my officers concurred."
"I have not the slightest prejudice against you and while we stand by
the Union, shoulder to shoulder, we shall be friends," replied Christy,
warmly pressing the hand of the captain of the Vernon.
Captain Battleton returned the pressure as heartily as it had been
given, and departed from the gunboat. The commander gave the order to
the first lieutenant to get under way; and the fasts were cast off from
the flag-ship. The Bronx backed away from her, came about, and was ready
to proceed on her voyage to the destination as yet unknown on board of
her.
"Make the course south-west, Mr. Flint," said the commander, as soon as
the vessel was ready, and her screw was in motion.
"South-west," repeated the first lieutenant, addressing the
quartermaster who was conning the wheel.
Standing on the bridge with the executive officer, Christy took his
leave mentally of the flag-ship, and the few other vessels that were
on the station; for most of them were on duty in various expeditions
engaged in the destruction of salt works. A boat expedition had just
captured Appalachicola, with all the vessels loading with cotton in
the bay. The young commander congratulated himself that he had a fast
steamer, for that caused him to be employed in more active duty than the
work of destruction on shore.
"South-west," said Mr. Flint, after the port watch had been dismissed,
leaving the starboard with Mr. Camden as watch officer on deck.
"I thought it probable that we should be sent to Appalachicola after
the information the Russian gave us."
"The boats of the Mercidita and Sagamore have captured the place, and
picked up five or six small vessels loaded with cotton, I was informed
by the commodore," replied Christy.
"We are bound to the westward, and the course looks as though we might
be ordered up the Mississippi," suggested Mr. Flint.
"I hardly think so, though I should be pleased to have it so."
"Why do you think it is not likely, Captain Passford?" asked the
executive officer curiously.
"Because the Bronx is a fast vessel compared with most of the steamers
of the navy, hardly any of which are good for more than twelve knots an
hour, while this ship will make sixteen when she is driven, and fourteen
under ordinary circumstances when we are not trying to save coal. Of
course I have no idea what duty we are to perform, and I am not anxious
to know till the time comes, though midnight is a rather odd time to
open the envelope."
"Probably the odd time means something."
"No doubt of it; for to-morrow morning by four bells we shall be off the
passes of the Mississippi, and our mission may be up Lake Pontchartrain,
or at Ship Island. But let that matter rest, for in three hours and a
half we shall know all about it. I want to ask you about the man you
call the Russian."
"He is a good man, and quite as intelligent as any of our seamen. He is
a pilot on the coast of Florida, and may be farther to the westward so
far as I know. He is forty-seven years old, though he does not look it,
and has been to sea all his life. By the way, that Captain Flanger has
done some business as a smuggler, Mike informs me."
"He looks like a desperate character," added Christy, as he went below
to attend to his supper, which he had so far neglected.
Dave was standing by the door when he entered his cabin. Seated at the
table was a man of stalwart frame, who was helping himself to the viands
prepared for the commander, and making himself entirely at home.
"Good-evening, Captain Passford; I hope you are all right. I waited a
reasonable time for you to come below to supper; but as you did not
appear, I have made myself at home, for my appetite has been somewhat
stimulated to-day," said the stranger.
The commander looked at the man; but he did not know him.