A WOUNDED COMMANDER
The fort had become harmless so far as the use of its guns was
concerned; but the channel of the Grand Pass was hardly a quarter of a
mile in width, and even twenty soldiers with muskets could pick off the
men on the deck of the Bronx. Christy's orders required him to capture
the steamer that was fitting out in the bay, and he intended to do it.
The order to weigh the anchor and cast off the spring was given, and the
commander sent for the chief engineer.
"We are within a mile of the fort, Mr. Sampson, and I mean to run by it.
We shall be exposed to the fire of musketry for about half a mile, and
the quicker we make this distance, the less the danger to the men," said
the commander, when the engineer presented himself. "We will not get
under way till you have all the steam you need to give the steamer her
best speed."
"I understand the situation perfectly, Captain Passford, and I will
report when we are ready to go ahead in the manner you desire," replied
Mr. Sampson, as he saluted the captain and hastened below.
"The officer in command of that fort is not idle," said Mr. Flint, who
had been using his glass very industriously since the firing ceased.
"The soldiers are busy setting up the guns again, or some of them."
"We will soon stop that," added Christy. "Give them another shot from
the midship gun, Mr. Flint."
The gunner was again fortunate in his aim, and it was seen that the
solid shot cleaned off the carriage upon which the soldiers were at
work. With the aid of the glass it was found that two of the men had
been killed or wounded. The work on that gun was suspended, but the
officer could be seen in the act of directing his force to another of
the barbette pieces.
"That lieutenant is a brave man," said Mr. Pennant, "and I know he is a
gentleman."
"I am only sorry that he is fighting on the wrong side," added Christy,
as he observed the earnestness of the officer in the discharge of his
duty. "Is he an old man?"
"No, sir; I don't believe he is over twenty, if he is that," replied the
third lieutenant.
Another solid shot sped on its way, and Mr. Ambleton, the gunner, fully
justified the reputation he had earned, though the missile only ploughed
up the earth in front of the party on the fort. But then Lieutenant
Fourchon proved that he was a wise and a prudent man, as well as a brave
one, for he retreated from the exposed position with his men. It was
almost sure death for them to remain there, for they could not help
seeing the cloud of smoke that rose from the funnel of the Bronx,
indicating her intention to go up the Pass.
"Mr. Sampson directs me to report that he is ready to proceed," said a
messenger from the chief engineer.
Quartermaster Vincent was placed in charge of the wheel, with Boxie as
helmsman. All that could be done to protect the pilot-house had been
done, though it was not yet supposed to be proof against the musket ball
that would be fired in that direction. All the men not absolutely needed
for duty were sent below, but they were armed with revolvers and
cutlasses, ready for service at any instant. The officers retired from
the bridge, for it was folly for any one to be unnecessarily exposed to
the musketry fire from the loopholes of the fort.
"Strike one bell, Vincent!" said Mr. Flint, when the captain had given
him the order to go ahead.
The steamer went ahead slowly; but the steam was hissing, and she seemed
to be as impatient as a fiery horse at the slow starting.
"Four bells, Mr. Flint!" added the commander when the Bronx was fairly
under way.
The order went to the quartermaster, and the vessel began to dart ahead
as though she fully realized what was expected of her. There was nothing
to impede her progress, for the fort was as silent as though it had
ceased to exist. A trusty hand was heaving the lead in the fore-chains,
for the Bronx was not yet within musket-shot range of the island.
"Mark under water three!" shouted the leadsman, with an earnestness
inspired by the occasion.
Christy planked the deck with Mr. Flint just abaft the foremast. Both of
them were as cool and self-possessed as though they had been sitting at
the cabin-table; but neither of them felt that the battle had been won,
for the officer in command of the fort was evidently a man of ability,
who had not yet exhausted his resources. The first lieutenant had
watched the works very closely with his glass, and he had informed the
captain that something was in progress there, though he could not tell
what it was.
Christy certainly felt very anxious, and he could not help asking
himself whether or not he was engaged in a foolhardy enterprise in
attacking the fort. His orders related only to the steamer that was
loading in the bay, and he had been warned in his instructions to take
the fort into consideration in his operations. He felt that he had given
proper attention to the fort, inasmuch as he had disabled all its guns.
He might have simply blockaded the entrance to the Pass; but he might
have stayed in the offing a month before she ventured to come out. He
was still willing to believe that he had not overstepped his orders.
"And a quarter three!" cried the leadsman.
"Make the course north-west, Mr. Flint," said Christy, following the
sailing directions with a proper allowance for the tide. "No more
sounding; send the man below. We shall have from three to seven fathoms
of water till we have passed the fort."
The Bronx continued to dart ahead at her best speed, and no sound came
from the fort. It was only a question of minutes now before the steamer
reached a point inside of the island where she could accomplish her
mission by the capture of the Sphinx. The officers remained on deck, but
they were protected by the bulwarks, the masts, and especially under the
shelter of the top-gallant forecastle. Christy had earnestly warned the
second and third lieutenants not to expose themselves needlessly to the
musketry of the fort, and Mr. Flint was discreet enough to need no such
warning.
"Soldiers on the fort, sir!" shouted Vincent, when the Bronx was within
less than a quarter of a mile of the works.
Christy and the first lieutenant sprang from the shelter where they had
been waiting the passage of the fort, and rushed up the steps to the
bridge. The commander of the force on shore, with half a dozen men, was
at work on one of the guns on the barbette; but it was impossible to
make out what they were doing. Then there was a flash, a cloud of
smoke went up, and a shot crashed into the deck directly under the
pilot-house, tearing up the planks, and disappearing in the space below.
"Wheel disabled, sir!" shouted the quartermaster.
"Beat to quarters, Mr. Flint!" said Christy, trying to make out what
mischief had been done by the shot; but he could only see that it had
cut the wheel ropes.
"Strike two bells, Vincent!" he called to the quartermaster.
By this time the executive officer had beat the crew to quarters, and
every man was at his station.
"Strike three bells, Vincent," continued the commander. "Mr. Flint, open
fire upon the fort with the midship gun. Have the carpenter report at
once on the damage done by that shot. Strike two bells, Vincent."
It was plain enough to all the officers and men that the commander
knew what to do in the emergency, and every one was energetic in the
discharge of his duty. Mr. Ambleton was fully alive to the peril of the
moment, and he was careful to make his aim sure with the great gun. It
had been loaded before with a solid shot, and presently the steamer was
shaken to her keel by the concussion of its discharge.
Christy was still on the bridge, and he watched with intense interest
the effect of the shot. In a moment he saw the carriage of the only gun
that seemed to be mounted on the barbette flying in pieces in every
direction. He directed the gunner to use a shell next time; but the
soldiers had hastened away from the place, bearing with them two of
their companions, doubtless wounded by the splinters.
"Let go the anchor, Mr. Flint!" shouted Christy.
This was done under the direction of Mr. Camden. A fresh breeze had
sprung up from the north-west, and the Bronx came up to the cable still
headed in the direction of her former course. The carpenter reported
that the shot had passed out at the side between decks, and that he had
plugged the hole. The third lieutenant was busy rigging new wheel ropes,
which he said would be ready in half an hour. Mr. Flint, at the order
of the captain, had manned the broadside guns, and loaded them with
shrapnel, for the most perilous part of the enterprise was yet to come.
The fort was silent. It was evident now that the commander of the little
garrison had not left the barbette before till he had prepared at least
one of his guns for further service; but it had again been disabled, and
it was not known on board of the steamer whether or not he had any other
gun fit for use. It was presumed that he had not, for the Bronx was
within easy cannon shot of his works. Christy used the glass, but could
not discover any gun that appeared to be mounted.
"All ready, Mr. Flint," reported the third lieutenant, when he had
completed the repairs on the steering gear.
The first lieutenant inspected the work, and reported to the captain,
who immediately ordered him to weigh the anchor. The chief engineer had
been directed to be ready to proceed, and the steam was hissing with a
merry music. The midship gun was of no service now, and Mr. Flint had
been directed to keep up a steady fire with the broadside guns at the
embrasures of the fort as soon as the Bronx was in range.
Again the steamer darted ahead at a speed which would soon carry her
beyond the reach of the musket ball of the soldiers. Christy still
remained upon the bridge, observing the fort and all that was done on
the deck of the Bronx. He directed his glass frequently at the barbette
of the fort; but the prudent commander of the garrison had evidently
concluded to confine his efforts to the casemates. At least one-fourth
of his men had been disabled.
"Open with the broadside guns, Mr. Flint!" called Christy, as the Bronx
came abreast of the works.
As he spoke, Boxie dropped in his place at the wheel, and Vincent
grasped the spokes. The blood was streaming down the face of the old
man, and he did not move after he fell. Two sailors bore him below; but
the surgeon promptly declared that he was dead.
The rattle of musketry became quite sharp, and the bullets were
penetrating the bulwarks. Two had been wounded at one of the guns, and
carried below. Christy stepped over to the end of the bridge to call a
hand to take the place of Boxie, and at that moment he felt a sharp
sting, as it were, in his right arm, above the elbow. Involuntarily he
raised his hand to the place, and felt the warm blood oozing from the
wound. It produced a momentary faintness; but he braced himself up, and
wound his handkerchief around his arm, calling upon the wheelman to tie
it, as he hastened to the aid of Vincent. He said not a word about the
accident.
The Bronx dashed upon her course, and in a moment more she was out of
the reach of the balls from the muskets. Half a mile farther up the
Pass, the captain ordered Vincent to strike two bells. The Sphinx was
in sight, not half a mile distant, with a small steamer on each side of
her. Doubtless her captain had full confidence in the ability of the
fort to protect his vessel, and he continued his operations as though he
was in no possible danger.
"Mr. Flint, send Mr. Camden in the first cutter and Mr. Pennant in the
second to take possession of that steamer," said Christy, holding on at
the rail in front of him. "Put fifteen men well armed into each boat,
and send the second engineer with them. Hurry them off, or they may burn
the vessel."
The two boats were soon in the water, though the first lieutenant
wondered that he had not been sent on this important service. The two
officers hurried their crews, and the boats flew on their mission. The
commander felt that it was necessary to keep an eye on the fort, for its
energetic officer was not at all inclined to be idle at the present
exciting time. The Bronx had hardly stopped her screw before the
soldiers were to be seen on the barbette; but the shell with which
the midship gun had been charged sent them all to the casemates in an
instant.
"What is the matter, Captain Passford?" asked the first lieutenant,
as he halted on the deck. "You are as pale as a ghost."
"A ball went through my arm; but it is all right," replied Christy with
a ghastly smile.
He refused to go below, or to permit Dr. Connelly to come to him until
he had attended to the poor fellows who had been wounded on deck.
At the end of a couple of hours, the flames arose from the two bay
steamers which had been alongside the Sphinx, for the second lieutenant
had been ordered to burn them. The smoke was pouring out of the two
smoke-stacks of the steamer. Several boats filled with men pulled to the
shore, landing the crews of the three vessels. In less than another hour
the Sphinx was under way, and soon came alongside the Bronx.
As only one of the broadsides of the gunboat was available in the action
with the fort, the starboard battery was transferred to the captured
vessel. Men enough to handle them were put on board, and Mr. Camden was
put in command of her. It was late in the afternoon when all this work
had been done, and then the Bronx led the way through the Pass, her
mission fully accomplished.
As soon as the steamer was abreast of the fort, the broadside guns
poured the shrapnel into the embrasures and loopholes, though nothing
could be known of the effect of the firing. The muskets were as active
as before. Christy was on the bridge still, for the doctor had dressed
his wound, and he had taken some refreshment.
This time it was discovered that the vigorous commander of the garrison
had dug out some rifle-pits on the top of his works, and his men were
doing effective work with their muskets. Three men had been wounded on
the deck of the Bronx, the third lieutenant being one of them. Christy
shouted to Mr. Flint, ordering him to send the men below, and cease
the use of the broadside guns, for the garrison were on the barbette,
sheltered by their earth-works, where the guns could not reach them,
so high was their position.
With the aid of his speaking trumpet he gave the same order to Mr.
Camden on board of the Sphinx; but he had hardly uttered the command
before his left leg gave way under him, and he sunk to the floor of the
bridge. A ball had struck him in the thigh, and he could feel the blood
flowing down his limb. He grasped the rail of the bridge, and drew
himself up. There he stood like a statue, supporting himself with his
well arm, till the Bronx had passed out of musket-shot range.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed the first lieutenant, as he came out from his
shelter. "You are wounded again!"
"I must give up now, I fear," replied Christy feebly; and then he
fainted.
[Illustration: Christy Receives a Second Wound.--Page 358.]
He was carried to his stateroom by his officers, and the doctor examined
his last wound. He was restored to consciousness, but he looked like
death itself beneath the ruddy brown of his weather-beaten face.
"You will take the command now, Mr. Flint," said he when he saw the
executive officer watching him with the most intense interest. "What do
you think of it, Dr. Connelly?" he asked, turning to the surgeon.
"Severe, but not dangerous," answered the doctor. "The ball did not
touch the bone, but it ploughed deep through the flesh. You were
fortunate in having plenty of meat on your bones."
Dave was the most assiduous of nurses, and had no little skill in
attending to the wants of the sick. The young commander was made
comfortable in a few hours, and Mr. Flint came below to see him at
the end of an hour when he had performed his most pressing duties. He
reported that Mr. Pennant's wound was slight, and did not disable him.
Eight seamen in all had been wounded, and one of them was likely to die
of his injury.
"But we have done our work well, Captain Passford, and I don't believe
that one-half the garrison of that fort are fit for duty at this
moment," added the first lieutenant.
"But that was a splendid fellow who commanded there," continued Christy
with admiration. "If his guns had not been taken away from him, and his
force reduced to a handful of men, we should have had to wait for the
Sphinx to come out of the bay; and it might have been three weeks or a
month before she concluded to do so."
"We have damaged the enemy enough to make it pay, and the steamer and
her cargo will put at least seventy-five thousand dollars into the
pockets of our side in the conflict."
"And by taking the bull by the horns, instead of waiting till the
captain of the Sphinx concluded to take his chances of being captured
in getting to sea, we have made the Bronx available for duty at once in
another quarter, where she can do better work than in chewing her cable
off the bar of Barataria," said the wounded commander, thus satisfying
his conscience that he had done his duty.
The venerable colored man, who had given so much assistance and
information to the third lieutenant on shore, had no desire to leave his
home, and he was landed in the darkness of the evening at a considerable
distance from the fort. Christy had rewarded him handsomely for the
service he had rendered. The men in the first and second cutters had
taken all the cotton in the small steamers, and put it on board of the
Sphinx before they set them on fire. The four guns in the hold had been
hoisted out to make room for the bales, and the vessel had been put in
condition for her voyage.
Early in the evening, the two steamers were standing out into the Gulf
headed to the south-east. In the middle of the afternoon of the next
day, Mr. Flint reported to the flag-officer off Pensacola Bay. The
wounded captain was as comfortable as a young man could be with two
bullet-holes in his limbs. It was the first time he had been wounded so
as to disable him; but he felt that he had faithfully done his duty to
his country, and he was as cheerful as a man in his condition could be.
Dr. Connelly reported that he would not be fit for service again for six
or eight weeks.
Mr. Pennant, the third lieutenant, on account of his wound, which was
not severe enough to render him unfit for ordinary duty, was appointed
prize-master of the Sphinx, with orders to report at New York for
condemnation. A furlough was given to Christy, with a stateroom on board
of the captured steamer. She was fitted out so that she could defend
herself, or even capture any vessel of the enemy within her reach, and
not too strong for her. She was not as fast as the Bronx, but she had
logged over twelve knots on the passage from Barataria Bay, and was
therefore likely to be added to the force of the navy.
Ensign Flint was appointed to the command of the Bronx by the
flag-officer, who had called upon Captain Passford in his stateroom.
Christy had not failed to commend his executive officer in the highest
terms. The commodore suggested that Christy could not be very kindly
disposed towards Captain Battleton of the Vernon, on account of his
decision against him in the matter of his identity.
"On the contrary, I do not see how he could have done otherwise,
commodore, and I have expressed to him my friendly feeling," replied
Christy. "I think he is a devoted and faithful officer, sir."
[Illustration: Dave Receives his Appointment as Steward.--Page 364.]
"He desires employment on more active duty than the command of a
store-ship, and I am instructed to give him such a position if I have
one at my disposal," added the flag-officer.
"I certainly hope you will do so, sir, if possible."
"I propose to appoint him executive officer of the Bronx."
"I am sure Mr. Flint could not have a better man."
In due time this appointment was made, and Captain Flint, on the
recommendation of Christy, was entirely satisfied to receive him as
his first lieutenant.
"One thing more, Captain Passford," continued the flag-officer; "the
ship's steward of the Mercidita has been very sick for three weeks, and
has applied for a sick-leave. I shall be obliged to transfer Mr. Nawood
of the Bronx to his place."
"I can mention just the right person to take Mr. Nawood's place," said
Christy eagerly.
"You seem to have a man ready for every vacant position. Who is he?"
asked the commodore with a pleasant smile.
"His name is David Davis; but he is not a relative of the president of
the Southern Confederacy, for he is a mulatto. He has rendered very
important service on several occasions, and there is not a truer or
braver man on board of the Bronx, or any other ship of the squadron,"
replied Christy with enthusiasm.
The commodore shook his head, but he looked very good-natured. Christy
narrated the part Dave had taken in the capture of Captain Flanger in
the cabin, and in recovering possession of the Bronx when it was shown
that the officers were rebels. Mr. Flint was sent for. He was quite as
earnest in his plea for the steward as the commander had been, and the
written appointment of Mr. David Davis was in Christy's hands when the
flag-officer took his leave of the wounded commander.
"Dave," said the wounded lieutenant, the next time the steward came into
the room, "no more 'massa,' no more 'moggywompus,' no more 'done do it.'
You know better than to use such expressions, and you are no longer a
'nigger;' you are the ship's steward of the Bronx."
"What's that, Captain Passford?" demanded Dave, opening his eyes like a
pair of saucers.
Christy handed him the appointment just made, and the steward danced
about like a madman. He had expected nothing for his meritorious
service, and he found himself in a position of trust and responsibility.
He expressed his gratitude in the most earnest language, and without
using a single objectionable phrase, for his education was better than
his habit in the use of speech.
Ensign McLinn, who had served on board of the little steamer, but had
recently been on sick leave, was appointed second lieutenant of the
Bronx, while Mr. Camden, outranked by the other officers, remained as
third lieutenant. Christy and Mr. Pennant were transferred to the
Sphinx, with a prize crew; and that same evening the Bronx sailed under
her new commander, with sealed orders, to the eastward.
The Sphinx sailed the next day for New York, and made a tolerably quick
passage. Of course Christy was received with open arms by the family at
Bonnydale, and with a profusion of blushes by Bertha Pembroke, who
happened to be there on a visit. His father and mother looked with
no little anxiety at the pale face of their son, though he was still
cheerful and happy. He had lost a portion of his flesh, and his uniform
hung rather loosely upon him.
He was too feeble from the effects of his wounds, for that in the thigh
had proved to be more severe than the surgeons had indicated, to tell
the exciting story of the escapade of Corny Passford; but when he did
relate it, three weeks later, it thrilled the listeners for three whole
evenings.
"You took the bull by the horns at an opportune moment, my son," said
Captain Passford, Senior. "If you had not done so you would have been in
a rebel prison at this moment. As it is, poor Corny has got back to Fort
Lafayette, with Galvinne and our man-servant, whom I never should have
suspected of being a Confederate officer."
"I don't think I care to go to the Gulf again as the commander of a
vessel," added Christy, who had not changed his mind on this subject.
"Why not, my son?"
"I don't like the responsibility, in the first place, and the
inactivity, in the second. When I am forty or fifty years old, I shall
like a command better. Others seem to look upon me now as a boy, capable
of any sort of quixotism, however prudent I may be, and point at me as
one who has been made a commander of a steamer by influence at court.
There is a vacancy at the present time on board of the Bellevite, for
the second lieutenant will be compelled to resign on account of his
health."
This matter was fully discussed during the next two months; and at the
end of that time the young lieutenant was again in condition for duty.
Both Mr. Camden and Mr. Pennant obtained the appointment of ensign on
the strength of his reports. Christy was as earnest as ever in his
desire to Stand by the Union; he was ordered to the Bellevite as second
lieutenant, and, after three months' absence, went to the Gulf again,
where we shall find him once more, both on sea and shore, Fighting for
the Right.
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Trowbridge can be found. He draws his characters true to life,
concealing no faults, and exaggerating no virtues, but paints each
in their own lights and shadows so vividly that to avoid the one and
imitate the other must be the natural impulse of all boys and girls
who read his most excellent and fascinating stories."--_San José
Mercury_.
Every boy of our acquaintance likes the books by Trowbridge. Every
young girl ought to enjoy them, also, for they are wholesome, true
to nature and human nature, and full of good sentiment. His stories
are always interesting, sometimes thrilling, and often they contain
much information, either of history or natural history.
The TOBY TRAFFORD SERIES
Handsomely Illustrated
Per volume $1.25
The Fortunes of Toby Trafford
Father Brighthopes
Woodie Thorpe's Pilgrimage And other Stories
To see life as it is, and depict it by easy and truthful touches,
is a high attainment. Mr. Trowbridge has abundantly vindicated his
claim to a place among the writers to whom readers attribute the
grace and power of naturalness. "Woodie Thorpe's Pilgrimage,"
"Uncle Caleb's Roan Colt," "Lost on the Tide," etc., are all stories
of deep interest, which one will follow with attention. The book
does not preach, but conveys some salutary lessons.
There is many and many a volume written for boys, but they are not
all alike beneficial; therefore the standard writers, to which class
belongs Mr. Trowbridge, may undisputably claim a kingdom whose
reigning motto is manliness.
LEE AND SHEPARD Publishers BOSTON
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Errata Noted by Transcriber:
Invisible punctuation-- chiefly quotation marks-- has been silently
supplied. The spelling "cockswain" is standard for this text. The
variation between "knots" and "knots an hour" is as in the original.
[Table of Contents]
CHAPTER XXIII.
_text reads "XIII."_
certain irregular enterprizes
_spelling as in original_
"I think I shall go on deck and see the fun, if there is any, and turn
in if there is none," added Christy.
_so in original: should read "Corny"_
The lamp on gimbols was lighted
_spelling as in original_
One who can believe that would swallow Baron Munchausen
_spelling as in original_
and our mission may be up Lake Pontchartrain
_text reads "Ponchartrain"_
[Advertising]
The Young Middy; or, The Perilous Adventures of a Boy Officer.
_text reads "Avdentures"_