A CRITICAL SITUATION IN THE CABIN
Christy looked at his cool and impudent visitor, whose declaration
was to the effect that he intended to take possession of the Bronx in
compensation for the loss of the Floridian. It looked as though he
intended to capture the gunboat now fully officered, and manned by
forty-six seaman; and so far as the commander could judge, he intended
to do it single-handed.
The lieutenant's first thought, after he realized the intention of the
intruder, was that he was insane, for no man in his senses would think
of accomplishing such a mad enterprise. His second idea was that he had
mistaken the declaration of Captain Flanger, though he had certainly
said that he meant to replace the Floridian with the Bronx, and the
statement could hardly mean anything else.
Christy was forced to admit to himself that the bold intruder had full
possession of the captain's cabin of the steamer, and that he had the
advantage of him in being armed; that any decided opposition on his part
would result in his being killed or wounded. It was not prudent for him
to do anything, and at the present stage of the proceedings he could do
nothing but temporize with his resolute foe.
"I beg your pardon, Captain Flanger; but do I understand that you
intend, single-handed and alone, to capture the Bronx?" asked the
commander, with a smile of incredulity on his face.
"Well, Captain Passford, if you fail to comprehend my purpose, it
is the fault of your understanding, and not of my plain and explicit
declaration, for I assuredly said that I intended to replace the
Floridian with the Teaser, or the Bronx as you have named her, though
she will not be called by any such nut-cracking name after I get her,"
replied the daring privateersman, as blandly and pleasantly as though he
were planning a picnic.
"Of course you see no difficulties in the way of such an undertaking as
you propose," added Christy.
"There may be difficulties; but I think they can be overcome. I purpose
to act through you, my friend, as my resources are rather limited at the
present moment. In other words, I propose that you shall issue certain
orders which I intend to dictate," Captain Flanger proceeded, as coolly
as though he had been in his own cabin instead of that of his companion.
"You mean to dictate your orders to me," repeated the commander.
"Precisely so; and you will readily see that I am not exactly in a
position to act in any other manner, as I cannot go back on deck and
deliver them in person, for your officers would be prejudiced against
me, and might be disposed to rebel against my authority."
"Not improbable," added Christy. "You propose that I shall go on deck,
and give your orders, acting as your proxy."
"Hardly, my dear friend, for I fear that on deck you would give way to
your own individual prejudices against me, and do something that would
jeopard my interest in the premises. With your approbation, I should
prefer to resort to a method that prevails in the army, though not to
any considerable extent in the navy. More clearly, I will invite you to
send your orders on deck in writing, over your own signature."
"You think that method would suit you better than the usual one of
delivering orders verbally," said Christy, laughing as much at the
coolness as at the impudence of his companion.
"It will not only suit me better, but you cannot fail to see that it is
the only practicable way for me to operate with my present very limited
resources. If I had a dozen good men and true,--not such dunderheads as
your officer captured in the Magnolia,--I should be able to proceed in a
more orderly and regular manner. In that case, I should issue my orders
in person, and not compel you to act as my intermediary."
"I understand you perfectly now; but as you have not, fortunately for
me, and unfortunately for yourself, the dozen men at hand, I am to hold
the fiddle while you play upon it, as I have seen a couple of negro
minstrels do it."
"An excellent simile, Captain Passford, and I could not have invented a
better myself," returned the privateersman. "I think we understand each
other perfectly, and therefore it is not necessary to use up any more
time in explanations. You are too intelligent a person to fail to
comprehend my plan. As an epitome of the whole scene, I may add that I
propose to do what my friend Galvinne undertook with that cousin of
yours: I intend to take the Bronx into Pensacola Bay, and have her used
in the service of the righteous cause in which the people of the South
are engaged," continued Captain Flanger, as though he believed in all he
was saying.
"I suppose it is the righteousness of the cause in particular that calls
forth your admiration," chuckled Christy.
"Precisely so; in this cause, though I drink whiskey, chew, and smoke,
and never swear except when I am excited, I am a religious man," said
the intruder, laughing.
"I suppose you were religiously inclined when you were engaged in the
business of smuggling," added the commander.
"I cannot say that I was; the cause of the South is religion itself, and
I am there every time. Who told you that I had been engaged in
smuggling?"
"It dropped from some of the men that were captured in the sloop."
"It could have dropped only from Mike Bornhoff, for he is the only one
who knew anything about it. He is my property, and when we are fairly
in Pensacola Bay I shall seize him up to the grating, and give him
thirty-nine for opening his mouth when he ought to have kept it closed.
Where is he now, for I did not find him among the prisoners?"
"He has enlisted as a seaman, and seems to be a good one. By the way,
where did you learn that my cousin attempted to take the Bronx into
Pensacola Bay?" asked Christy curiously, though he was using up the time
he could not yet improve.
"It was not your cousin at all who attempted to take the vessel into
Pensacola Bay; it was Galvinne, for Corny only acted as a figure-head,
as I intend to use you. Galvinne was a prisoner by my side on board of
the flag-ship, and told me all about it when he was releasing my right
hand from the bracelet," replied Captain Flanger.
"Then I am to do duty as a figure-head, am I?" laughed Christy.
"Precisely; and you are a better-looking one than your cousin. But
excuse me for changing the subject of the conversation, for I am losing
time. I see by the telltale over our heads that the Bronx is headed to
the south-west, which is doubtless the course you were ordered to take
by the commodore."
"The telltale is honest, and tells no lies," replied Christy.
"Where are you bound, Captain Passford?" asked Flanger, in a careless
and indifferent manner, as he looked about the cabin.
"I don't know."
"Sealed orders?"
"You must draw your own inferences, Captain Flanger."
"It won't take a six-mule team to draw that one," added the
privateersman, rather sourly for the first time. "Of course I understood
that it would not be advisable for the commodore to let it be known
exactly where the steamer is bound, and that you have sealed orders.
I shall have to trouble you, Captain Passford, to produce the envelope."
As he spoke Captain Flanger toyed with the revolver in his right hand
as if he intended that the weapon should produce its proper impression
on the mind, and especially upon the nerves, of the commander, who
had continued to walk up and down in front of the table at which his
dangerous associate was seated, occasionally pausing when a point was
made on either side.
"Of course you cannot expect me to betray the confidence of the
commodore; that would not be kind or friendly on your part, Captain
Flanger, for you can see that this is a delicate matter," said Christy,
halting in front of the table.
"It may be delicate; I admit that it is so for you: but as my plans may
depend somewhat upon a knowledge of your instructions, I really feel
compelled to insist upon this point, Captain Passford," replied the
intruder as blandly as ever. "But we are living just now in a state of
war, and it is quite impossible to act with as much delicacy us one
might desire."
"I am sorry that you feel constrained to act in this indelicate manner;
but I cannot, on my honor and conscience, violate my orders, and I must
respectfully decline to produce the envelope," replied Christy, feeling
that he had come to a crisis in the affair.
"You decline to give me your sealed orders? Do I correctly understand
you, Captain Passford?" demanded the privateersman with a frown upon his
brow.
"Undoubtedly you do. I decline to give you my sealed orders. What then?"
replied the commander, who began to feel a certain sense of shame
because he had temporized so long with the bold pirate, for he regarded
him as such.
"What then?" repeated the intruder. "Why, you will reduce me to the
disagreeable necessity of blowing out your brains, if you have any,
as I should judge that you had not, after your refusal to accede to my
request in the face of the death that awaits you."
"I beg your pardon, Captain Flanger, but do you really purpose to blow
out the brains of your figure-head?" asked Christy, as coolly as though
no such threat had been suggested to him.
About this time Dave, who had taken care to keep in the front of the
table as he had been ordered to do, seized upon his feather duster, and
began to dust the divan on the starboard side of the cabin. Flanger was
so much occupied with the commander at that moment, that he was not
disposed to take his eye off him for an instant; for certainly the
situation had become critical, and he paid no attention to the steward.
Dave was a sort of a feather-duster fiend, and he used the article a
great deal of his time, apparently as much from habit as from
cleanliness.
"I should be extremely sorry to put a ball through your head, Captain
Passford, not only because it would disfigure a handsome face, but
because you may be of great use to me," replied the pirate.
"And because, in your present enterprise as you have outlined it, you
cannot get along without me," said Christy.
"In fact, you are more than half right. The sealed orders are not
absolutely necessary to me just now, and I shall not insist upon the
production of them for the present. Now, if you will seat yourself at
the table opposite me, I will dictate an order to you, which you will
oblige me by reducing to writing, and then by signing your name to it as
commander," continued Flanger, still toying with the heavy revolver.
Christy's curiosity was excited: he thought the order would throw some
further light on the plan of the pirate; and he seated himself. Captain
Flanger proceeded to dictate to him an order to the officer of the deck,
to the effect that his sealed orders directed him to cut out a rebel
privateer under the guns of Fort McRae; ordering him to head the Bronx
to the north-west for this purpose, and instructing him to call him as
soon as he made out the shore, Christy wrote it, and the pirate told him
to sign it.
"You must excuse me, Captain Flanger, but I object to signing such an
order," replied Christy, as he rose from his chair.
"Sign it, or you are a dead man!" exclaimed Flanger fiercely.
"Be it so; death before dishonor," replied the commander firmly.
At this moment Dave had worked himself in behind the pirate; and, with a
well-directed blow with the feather duster on the head of Flanger, he
brought him to the floor.
[Illustration: Flanger in the Captain's Cabin.--Page 281.]