SECRET ENEMIES.
"It's done and it can't be undone," said Marcy, after he had told his
mother just what passed between him and the captain of the privateer. "I
assured Mr. Beardsley that I didn't think the government would hang his
men as pirates if they were taken on the high seas, but since I have
seen a couple of them I have my doubts. If the ship-keepers are fair
specimens of the crew, they are a hard lot, and I don't want to be
captured in such company. This is being true to my colors with a
vengeance."
That was what his mother thought, but she did not say a word to add to
the bitterness of his feelings. Knowing the temper of the people around
her as well as she did, she could not see that Marcy could have done
anything else. Marcy Gray ate little supper that night, and as soon as
it began to grow dark, he left the house and went out on the road to
take a stroll. He wanted to be alone, even though the thoughts that
crowded thick and fast upon him were anything but pleasant company.
Almost without knowing it he kept on until he arrived within sight of
the gate leading to Mr. Beardsley's yard, and saw three men standing
close inside of it. The night was so dark he could not see who they
were, and without giving the circumstance a second thought, he was about
to retrace his steps, when the men moved into the road, and two of them
made a few steps in his direction, but turned suddenly about as if
listening to some parting instructions from the one they had left
behind. Marcy waited to see no more, but walked rapidly homeward,
unconscious of the fact that the men followed a little distance in his
rear, although they did not see him. When he reached the carriage-way
Marcy did not immediately go to the house, but paced up and down the
road in a brown study, from which he was presently aroused by the sound
of footsteps. A few seconds later a figure loomed up in the darkness,
and Marcy thought he recognized in it one of the men he had seen on
board the schooner that afternoon. The figure discovered him at the same
moment, halted abruptly, and said in cautious tones, as if fearful of
being overheard:
"Who's there?"
"It's no one who will hurt you," was the boy's reply. "Toddle right
along about your business."
"Any dogs laying around?"
"Nary dog. I'm alone."
These answers must have satisfied the man, for he advanced without
further hesitation, and peered sharply into Marcy's face.
"What you doing out here?" he asked, as though he had a right to know;
and then Marcy saw that he had not been mistaken. The man was one of the
ship-keepers.
"What's that to you, and who are you?" he replied, with spirit.
"I don't mean any offense--I don't really," said the man hastily. "But
it is rather strange that I should find you so easy when you are the
very one I was looking for. I didn't know whether it would be safe to
come or not, for you have dogs in plenty, like all the rest of the
planters about here. I am Sam Tierney, and I belong to Beardsley's
privateer. You are Marcy Gray, and have been engaged to take the
schooner through out-of-the-way inlets that the old man is not
acquainted with. Let's go down the road a piece. I'd like to talk to you
a minute, if you don't care."
"Why can't you say what you have to say right where you stand?" inquired
Marcy. "There's no one to overhear you if your communication is
private."
"Private? Well, you'll think so when you hear what it is. Come down the
road."
It was right on the end of the boy's tongue to ask the man why he had
come to see him so soon after holding that conversation at Mr.
Beardsley's gate, and what he had done with his companion; but, on
reflection, he decided that he would not say a word on these points.
This might be an opportunity to learn something, he told himself, but
there was one thing of which he was sure: he would not trust himself
within reach of that missing ship-keeper, who might be hidden somewhere
down the road, ready to pounce upon him the moment this man Tierney
brought him to the ambush. He would remain right where he was, within
earshot of the faithful Bose, who would be likely to make things lively
for the privateersman if he attempted any violence. There was something
in the wind, the boy was sure of that; but he could not, for the life of
him, think what it could be.
"I don't care to go down the road," said he. "What objection can you
have to this place? We can see in every direction, and there are no
bushes behind which an eavesdropper could hide himself."
It was plain that Tierney was not satisfied with this arrangement. He
walked about with his hands in his pockets, kicked a pebble or two out
of his way, and finally wanted to know if Marcy would promise, honor
bright, that he would not repeat a word of what might be said to him.
"No; I'll not make any such promise," Marcy answered promptly. "And you
would be foolish to put any faith in it if I did. I don't want you to
tell me anything confidentially, for I must be left free to do as I
think best about repeating it."
The ship-keeper was plainly surprised at this answer, for he gave
utterance to a heavy oath under his breath and kicked some more pebbles
out of the road. Marcy waited patiently for him to speak, for he was
positive that the man had come there with something on his mind, and
that he would not go away until he had told what it was.
"You're mighty suspicious," said he, at length, "and I don't know but
you have reason to be. You are a Union man."
"Who told you that?" exclaimed Marcy, somewhat startled.
"A little bird whispered it to me."
"Well, the next time you see that little bird tell him to mind his own
business. My political views are nothing to him or you either."
"I wouldn't get huffy. The old man says--" began Tierney, and then he
stopped and caught his breath.
"Aha! The old man says so, does he?" thought Marcy. "And he tells his
foremast hands what he thinks about his neighbors, does he? I must be
cautious. Well, go on; what does the old man say?"
"He says he has engaged you to act as pilot," replied the man, with some
confusion.
"So he has; and if he chooses to trust his vessel in my hands in
channels and inlets that he knows nothing about, what have you to say?
He wouldn't do it if he did not think I would serve him to the best of
my ability, would he? But what has my politics to do with the position I
hold aboard that privateer?"
"Nothing much," answered Tierney, turning away. "But they have a good
deal to do with the proposition I was going to make to you if I had
found you to be the good Union I heard you were."
Now Marcy thought he began to see daylight, but he said not a word.
Tierney acted as though he was about to go away, but the boy knew he
wouldn't.
"I'm a Union man," said he.
"That's nothing to me, but if you are, I don't see why you stay about
here. You've no friends in this State to speak of. Go up to the United
States."
The ship-keeper was evidently waiting for Marcy to ask him about the
proposition to which he had referred a moment before, but he waited in
vain. It was no part of Marcy's plan to draw the conversation back into
that channel. Tierney saw that he must take the initiative himself, and
he did it very abruptly.
"Look here, pilot," said he. "There's no use in your mincing matters
with me in this way. Just a moment," he added, seeing that the boy
raised his hand as if he were about to speak. "I am a Union man all
over, my pardner is another, and you are another. I know it as well as I
know anything, and the old man knows it--I mean, he as good as said he
had heard of it, too."
"Well, what of it?" inquired Marcy. "What did he hire me for, when he
knows that it is in my power to run his schooner hard and fast aground
if a ship of war gets after us?"
"But he doesn't quite believe all he has heard, and he's willing to give
you a chance to prove that you are true blue," said Tierney, with an
awkward attempt to undo the mischief he had done by talking too
rapidly.
"I am true blue," replied Marcy, "although I confess that my actions
just about this time do not show it," he added, to himself. "As long as
I remain aboard that schooner I shall do my duty the best I know how."
"And will you take her out of harm's way if a ship of war heaves in
sight?"
"I will if I can."
"Then it isn't of any use for me to say more, I suppose?"
"Not the slightest; that is, if you mean to propose that I shall join
you in seizing the vessel for the purpose of giving her up to one of
Uncle Sam's ships."
"I never said so," exclaimed Tierney. "I never said one single, solitary
word that could lead you to think I meant any such thing."
"I haven't hinted that you did; but all the same that is the proposition
you came here to make me. I can see through a ladder as well as you
can."
"Well, I don't see that it's any good to beat about the bush," said the
ship-keeper frankly. "That's just what I came here for. We could get a
reward for turning the schooner over, and you could run her up as far as
Fortress Monroe, couldn't you?"
"I might do it on a pinch, but I won't."
"We'll have men enough to take her without the least trouble," urged
Tierney.
"I hope you'll not try it, but if you do, you will find me close by
Captain Beardsley's side."
"Will you fight?"
"I'll fight till I drop before I will go near the Yankees with the crew
of that privateer. They would take one look at us, and then go to work
and hang the whole lot."
"Why, didn't you tell the old man that they wouldn't?" exclaimed
Tierney; and if Marcy could have had a view of his face, he would have
seen that the ship-keeper was both astonished and frightened. "You must
have changed your mind."
He certainly had, but did not feel called upon to explain why he had
done so. His idea was that the faces of the schooner's crew, if Tierney
and his companion ship-keeper were to be taken as specimens, would be
quite enough to condemn them, and that the United States authorities
would be justified in putting it out of their power to do mischief.
"I'll not have any hand in the mutiny, but will do my best to quell it
if it breaks out," Marcy declared, with emphasis. "You've had your walk
for nothing."
"So that's the end of _that_ hope," said Tierney, looking down at the
ground and trying to act as though he was very much disheartened. "You
won't repeat what has passed between us, of course?"
"Of course I will. I'll go to Mr. Beardsley with it the first thing in
the morning."
"What's that you say?" Tierney almost shouted. "Take back those words or
I'll--"
He made a step forward and raised his hands as if he were about to
spring at Marcy. His actions were certainly threatening, and the boy
believing that he might commit an assault just to keep up appearances,
thought it best to summon a friend upon whose loyalty he could always
rely. A single shrill whistle arose upon the air, an answering bark came
from the direction of the house, and Bose came bounding up to see what
was the matter. Tierney recoiled.
"He'll not say a spiteful word to you if you let me alone," Marcy
assured him. "You see now why I did not care to go down the road. You
have nothing to fear from me, but I shall tell Captain Beardsley all
about this interview as soon as I can find him. And that is just what I
am expected to do," he added, to himself, as the ship-keeper turned
around and hurried away. "That fellow isn't half as good a Union man as
Bose is. Beardsley sent him here to test me, and I saw it almost from
the beginning. If I don't report the matter, Beardsley will have his
suspicions confirmed, and then he will set something else on foot
against me. Oh, I'm a sharp one," laughed Marcy, taking off his cap and
patting his own head, "but I'd give a good deal to know when and how I
am going to get rid of that man. Whatever I do I must look out for
mother's comfort and peace of mind, and so I will not lisp a word of
this to her."
That night Marcy's sleep was disturbed by all sorts of bad dreams,
during which he was constantly detecting Captain Beardsley in some plot
to injure him, and when morning came he was not much refreshed. In
accordance with his usual custom he had his horse brought to the door
immediately after breakfast, kissed his mother good-by, and set out for
Nashville to bring the mail; but he stopped on the way to have a talk
with the owner of the privateer. Under almost any other circumstances
Marcy would have thought he was playing a contemptible part; but being
as certain as he wanted to be that Beardsley was trying to get a hold
upon him for some purpose of his own, the boy thought himself justified
in adopting heroic measures for self-defense. The ship-keeper was not
the Union man he pretended to be, and Marcy would tell Beardsley nothing
new when he revealed the plot at which Tierney had hinted the night
before. This was what Marcy believed, and the manner in which he was
greeted by the privateer captain confirmed him in his belief.
"Have you been over to the schooner this morning?" inquired the boy,
when he had hitched his horse and taken possession of the chair that was
brought out for him. "If you will not think me too inquisitive, I should
like to know where you picked up the two men you left in charge of
her."
"I found them in Newbern, and they were recommended to me, by a party in
whom I have all confidence, as men who could be trusted," replied the
captain. "What makes you ask the question? Don't you like the looks of
'em?"
"No, I don't, and neither do I like their actions," said the boy
truthfully. "Tierney came to see me last night, and tried to induce me
to take a walk down the road toward the place where I think his
companion was concealed."
"What did he do that for?" exclaimed the captain, who was so anxious to
be surprised that he could not wait until his visitor reached the
surprising part of his story.
"He probably wanted a witness to the manner in which I received the plot
he intended to propose to me if I had given the chance," answered Marcy,
narrowly watching the effect of his words. "But he didn't propose it; I
will say that much in favor of Tierney. He simply hinted at it, and I
told him I wouldn't have a thing to do with it."
"Why, the--the--brat!" cried the captain.
"You wouldn't have thought it of him, would you?"
"Indeed I wouldn't. I thought he was trustworthy."
"But you see he isn't. I told him I would tell you all about it and I
have," continued Marcy, who had told nothing at all; but he had led
Captain Beardsley on to acknowledge, almost as explicitly as words could
have done it, that he knew all about Tierney's plan for seizing the
schooner. "I think you had better discharge him. I don't want to sail
with a man who is all the while watching for a chance to get me into
difficulty. And then see how he is going square back on the principles
he professes!"
"I should say he was. I'll discharge him as soon as I can get where the
schooner is, and tell him the next time he--But what did he do? What did
he propose to you?"
"He didn't propose anything, because I didn't give him time. He only
hinted at it, and I thought it an outrageous piece of villainy."
"So it was; so it was. But what did he hint at?"
"Why, seizing the schooner and turning her over to the Yankees. I told
you all about it."
"So you did, and I say that hanging is too good for that traitor. What
would you do with him if you was me?"
"Send him up to the United States or put him in jail," replied Marcy. He
knew very well that the captain would do neither one nor the other, but
Marcy wanted to get rid of that man. If he would go deliberately to work
to get him into trouble, as he had done the night before by his
employer's advice and consent, he might try it again when Marcy was not
so well prepared for him.
"It scares me to think of it," said the owner of the privateer, who did
not look as though he were very badly alarmed. "Such a thing as taking
the schooner could be done easy enough, and where would you be if it was
attempted?"
"I should be on the side of the authorities. There's where you will
always find me. I wouldn't fall into the power of the Yankees for ten
times the value of all the prizes that will be captured on this coast
during the war. I should never expect to see home again. I told Tierney
I would fight first."
"I guess you will do to tie to, Marcy," said the captain; and the
visitor told himself that those were the only truthful words he had
uttered during the interview. "If all my crew is as loyal as you are,
and if all the men in the army stick up for the Stars and Bars as you
do, we'll gain our independence in less'n six months."
Marcy was not aware he had "stuck up" for the Stars and Bars, but it
would not be safe to set the captain right, as he would have been glad
to do, and besides this was the time to learn something.
"I don't know where Tierney got his information, but he has heard from
several sources that I am for the Union," said he.
"That's what folks say," replied Beardsley.
"What have I said or done since I came home to lead them to think so?"
"Not a word; not a thing. It's what you haven't said and done that makes
'em suspicion you. You don't whoop and holler and yell and slosh around
with your revolver, like the most of the young chaps do."
"I am not given to such antics, and these are no times for
monkey-shines. We need sober, thoughtful men who will do their best to
steer us safely through the difficulties by which we are surrounded,
rather than whooping and yelling young ones who seemed determined to
wreck us."
"That's good, sound argument," assented Captain Beardsley, as the
visitor pushed back his chair and went down the steps to unhitch his
horse.
"But there's one thing I want to tell you," continued Marcy. "I haven't
signed any papers and consequently I am still a free man; and if you
want me in that schooner worse than you want Tierney, well and good. If
you don't, you can keep him and I will stay ashore."
Marcy had pinned a very slight hope of release right here. He was
satisfied that the owner of the privateer must think a good deal of the
man Tierney or he would not have placed so much confidence in him; and
he hoped the captain would decide to keep him and let his pilot go. For
a time it looked as though the hope might be realized, for the captain
hesitated and stammered in such a way that there was no doubt left in
Marcy's mind that he was loth to give Tierney up; but seeing the boy's
eyes fastened upon him with a most searching glance Beardsley aroused
himself to say:
"Of course; _of_ course."
"Would you feel safe at sea knowing that you had a traitor among the
crew--one who was waiting and watching for an opportunity to turn you
and your vessel over to the Yankees?" continued Marcy.
"No, I wouldn't," and the words came out quickly and honestly. "I
wouldn't live on a vessel under them conditions."
"Well, whom are you going to keep--him or me?"
"You, of course. I couldn't get along without somebody who knows Crooked
Inlet better than I do. Going to Nashville after your mail? Well, when
you come back ride round to the schooner and you'll find that Tierney
isn't there."
"What good will it do to ride around to the schooner?" thought the boy,
as he gave his horse the rein and galloped out of the yard. "Of course
Tierney wouldn't be there. He would hear me coming through the bushes
and have plenty of time to jump ashore and hide himself. A blind man
ought to see that I did right when I went to Beardsley with my story. He
never asked what the plot was until he committed himself, nor did he
inquire how many there were in it, nor did he get half as mad over it
as he would if Tierney were a sure-enough Union man. It was a put-up
job, I tell you, and who knows but there may be others of much the same
sort hanging over me at this very minute? I do despise secret enemies."
News travels rapidly when all the people in a place are thinking and
talking about the same things, and Marcy saw the fact illustrated when
he reached Nashville. The mail and express packages were delayed by an
accident to the wagon in which they were conveyed to and from the
nearest stage station; it took two or three hours to repair it, so that
it was mid-day before Marcy was ready to start for home. He always
dreaded an enforced delay in town, and tried to time himself so that he
would reach the post-office after everybody else had left it. In the
days gone by he had been on friendly terms with all the Nashville people
who were worth knowing, but it was not so now. He was treated civilly
enough, but rather coolly, by those he met on the street and in the
office, and he noticed that few of them took the trouble to speak to
him. This being the case, he wondered what influence had been at work to
bring about the change he noticed before he was fairly inside the town
limits. It was "Hello, Marcy!" here, and "How are you, old fellow?"
there, and when he hitched his horse and went into the post-office,
where there was a crowd assembled, his greeting was as cordial as any
that had ever been extended to him. Marcy opened his eyes, but said
little, knowing that if he had the patience to wait somebody would
explain the matter to him. He got a clue to the situation when young
Allison, after telling him that the mail wagon had broken down and might
not be along for an hour or two, inquired:
"How's your ship, Marcy? I suppose you calculate to sweep the sea of
everything that carries the Yankee flag, don't you? I shall look for
astonishing reports when you get among the war-ships that are coming to
blockade the coast."
Allison was a loud-mouthed young rebel who had made himself particularly
obnoxious to quiet, peace-loving Marcy Gray. He did not say anything to
Marcy's face that the latter could resent (he was afraid to do that,
notwithstanding the fact that he always carried a loaded revolver in his
pocket), but he had said a good many insulting words to others that were
intended for Marcy's benefit. The latter turned upon him like a flash,
and said, so that every one in the office heard it:
"We don't expect to whip the whole Yankee navy, but we shall do the best
we can, and that's more than you seem inclined to do. You have had a
good deal to say concerning the cowards who are stopping at home when
the South is calling for their services. Why did you not go to the front
yourself long ago, you noisy braggart? Put a uniform on before you speak
to me again."
"Good for you, Marcy," cried a score of voices. "Actions and not frothy
sentiment are what we want now."
"Hit him again and I'll help," shouted another; and Marcy's old-time
friend, Wat Gifford, elbowed his way through the crowd. He was in full
uniform, and was the only citizen of Nashville who had snuffed powder at
the bombardment of Fort Sumter. "Talk is cheap, but it takes patriotism
to face Yankees."
If Marcy had had a week in which to consider the matter, he could not
have done a better thing than he did right there on the spur of the
moment. Young Allison slunk away abashed, and the privateer's pilot
regained at one bound all he had ever lost in the estimation of the
Nashville people.