IN THE NAVY.
CHAPTER II.
LEARNING THE ROPES.
CHAPTER III.
SQUARING THE YARDS.
CHAPTER IV.
A MIDNIGHT ALARM.
CHAPTER V.
A DISCOMFITED REBEL.
CHAPTER VI.
FRANK'S FIRST EXPLOIT.
CHAPTER VII.
ON A GUN-BOAT.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE LINES.
CHAPTER IX.
A UNION FAMILY.
CHAPTER X.
A SPUNKY REBEL.
CHAPTER XI.
FRANK A PRISONER.
CHAPTER XII.
THE ESCAPE.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FAITHFUL NEGRO.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHASED BY BLOOD-HOUNDS.
CHAPTER XV.
THE RESCUE.
CHAPTER XVI.
A FRIEND IN NEED.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE SCENE AT THE PLANTATION.
CHAPTER XVIII.
ALMOST BETRAYED.
CHAPTER XIX.
CONCLUSION.
FRANK ON A GUN-BOAT.
CHAPTER I.
In the Navy.
"Well, Frank, did you bring home the evening's paper?" inquired Mrs.
Nelson, as her son entered the room where she was sitting.
"Yes, ma'am. Here it is!" answered Frank, producing it. "But there is
no news in it. The Army of the Potomac has not moved yet. I don't see
what makes them wait so long. Why don't McClellan go to work and thrash
the rebels?"
"You must remember that the rebels have about as many men as we have,"
answered his mother. "Perhaps, if McClellan should undertake to 'thrash'
the rebels, as you say, he would get whipped himself"
"That makes no difference," answered Frank. "If I was in his place, and
the rebels _should_ whip me, it wouldn't do any good, for I'd renew the
battle every day, as long as I had a man left."
It was toward the close of the first year of the war, during the "masterly
inactivity" of the Army of the Potomac. For almost eight months McClellan
had been lying idle in his encampment, holding in check that splendid
army, which, with one blow, could have crushed out the rebellion, and
allowing the rebels ample time to encircle their capital with
fortifications, before which the blood of loyal men was to be poured out
like water. The people of the North were growing impatient; and "On to
Richmond!" was the cry from every part of the land.
From the time Fort Sumter had fallen, Frank had been deeply interested in
what as going on. The insults which had been heaped upon the flag under
which his grandfather had fought and died, made the blood boil in his
veins, and he often wished that he could enlist with the brave defenders
of his country. He grew more excited each day, as the struggle went on,
and the news of a triumph or defeat would fire his spirit, and he longed
to be standing side by side with the soldiers of the Union, that he might
share in their triumphs, or assist in retrieving their disasters.
He was left almost alone now, for many of the boys of his acquaintance had
shouldered their muskets and gone off with the others; and that very day
he had met Harry Butler, who had enlisted as a private, wearing the
uniform of a lieutenant, which he had won by his bravery at Fort Donelson.
He had never said one word to his mother about enlisting, for he was an
only son, and he dreaded to ask her permission. But that mother's quick
eye easily read what was going on in her son's mind. She had Puritan blood
in her veins; her ancestors had fought in the war of the Revolution, and
she had resolved that, if Frank wished to go, she would give her full
consent. A mother's heart alone can tell the struggle it had cost her to
come to this determination.
"I've got a letter from Archie, also," said Frank.
His mother took it from his hand, and read as follows:
Portland, _March_ 18, 1862.
Dear Cousin:
I am about to tell you something which you will call strange news.
Father has at last given his consent to my going to war, provided
you will go too. He says that if I go, I must have you with me, to
take care of me, and keep me straight. I suppose he thinks I will
never go if I am obliged to wait for you, for he says your mother
will not consent to your going. You can ask her, any way. You know
you always wanted to have a hand in putting down this rebellion.
If we go at all, I think the best plan is to enter the navy. It is a
much better branch of the service than the army--the discipline is
better; there are no long marches to endure; and, wherever you go,
your house goes with you.
Now, be sure and do your best, for now is our chance, if ever.
Please write immediately, for I am afraid father will change his
mind.
Yours, in haste, Archibald Winters.
When Mrs. Nelson had read the letter, she handed it back to her son
without saying a word.
"Well, mother, what do you think of it?" inquired Frank.
"The matter rests entirely with you, my son," answered Mrs. Nelson,
dropping her sewing into her lap. "Do just as you think best."
"Do you say I may go?" inquired Frank, joyfully.
"Certainly. You have my full consent to go, if you wish to."
"Oh, mother," exclaimed Frank, springing up and throwing his arms around
her neck, "I wish I had known, long ago, that you were willing to have me
go."
"Where are you going, Frank?" inquired Julia, who had a vague suspicion of
what was going on.
"I'm off to the war," answered her brother. "I am going into the navy with
Archie."
"Oh, Frank," she exclaimed, bursting into tears, "you must not go. There's
enough in the army without you. You will certainly get shot."
"I'll never be shot in the back," said Frank; "you may rely on that. But
you don't suppose that every one who goes to war gets shot, do you? I may
be one of the lucky ones; so don't cry any more."
But Julia could not control her feelings. The thought that her brother was
to be exposed to the slightest danger was terrible; and Frank, seeing that
it would do no good to talk to her, left the room, and went into his
study, where he wrote to Archie, stating that he would start for Portland
the next day. He spent the forenoon in wandering about the house and
orchard, taking a long and lingering look at each familiar object. He
locked the museum, and gave the key to Julia, who was close at his side
wherever he went. Even Brave seemed to have an idea of what was going on,
for he followed his master about, and would look into his face and whine,
as though he was well aware that they were about to be separated.
Immediately after dinner, the carriage which was to convey Frank and his
baggage to the Julia Burton drew up before the door. The parting time had
come. "Good-by, mother," said Frank, as he stood at the door, ready to go.
"Good-by, my son," said Mrs. Nelson, straining him to her bosom, and
struggling hard to keep back a sob. "We may never see you again, but I
hope I shall never hear that you shrunk from your duty."
Frank could not reply--his breast was too full for utterance: and hastily
kissing his sister, and shaking Hannah's hand, he hurried down the walk
toward the gate. He had not gone far before Brave came bounding after him.
"Go back, old fellow," said Frank, caressing the faithful animal; "you
can't go with me this time. It will be a long while before you and I will
go anywhere together again. Go back, sir."
Brave understood his master perfectly; and he turned and trotted toward
the house, looking back now and then, and whining, as if urging his master
to allow him to go too. Frank did not stop to look back, but sprang into
the carriage, and the driver closed the door after him, and mounted to his
seat and drove off. He had scarcely time to get his baggage on board the
steamer before she moved off into the stream. And Frank was glad it was
so, for the longer he remained in sight of the village, the harder grew
the struggle to leave it. But, at length, every familiar object was left
behind, and being surrounded by new scenes, Frank gradually recovered his
usual spirits.
In two days he arrived at Portland, and as he was getting off the cars, he
was seized by Archie, who had come to the depot to meet him.
"I'm glad to see you," said the latter; "it is lucky that you wrote just
as you did, for father has said a dozen times that I can't go. But I guess
he will not refuse me, now that you are here."
"I hope not," said Frank; "we can go as well as any one else. If every one
was to stay at home, we shouldn't have any army at all."
"That's just what I told father; but he didn't seem to see it. He says
there are some who ought to go, for they are of no earthly use here; but
he thinks that boys like you and me ought to stay at home until we know
enough to take care of ourselves."
But Mr. Winters did not raise many objections when he found that Frank had
obtained his mother's consent; and, on the next day but one after Frank's
arrival, he accompanied the boys on board the receiving-ship, where they
were speedily examined and sworn in. Each was then supplied with a bag
and hammock, and two suits of clothes; and, when they were rigged out in
their blue shirts and wide pants, they made fine-looking sailors. At Mr.
Winters' request they were granted permission to remain on shore until a
raft of men was ready to be sent away. The boys were allowed to do pretty
much as they pleased while they remained, for, as they were to leave so
soon, Mr. Winters could not find it in his heart to raise any objections
to the plans they proposed for their amusement. Besides, he knew that
Archie was in good hands, for Frank was a boy of excellent habits, and
possessed sufficient moral courage to say _no_, when tempted to do
wrong; and, as he had great influence over his cousin, Mr. Winters knew
their conduct would be such as he could approve.
At length, one morning, when they went on board the receiving-ship to
report as usual, they were ordered to present themselves at the depot at
two o'clock that afternoon, with their bags and hammocks, in readiness to
take the train for the West. The boys were a good deal disappointed when
they heard this, for the idea of serving out their year on the Mississippi
River was not an agreeable one. They had hoped to be ordered to the coast.
But, as Archie remarked, it was "too late to back out," and they were
obliged to submit. When Archie came to bid farewell to his parents, he
found it to be a much more difficult task than he had expected. The tears
would come to his eyes, in spite of himself, as he embraced his mother;
and, as soon as he could disengage himself from her arms, he seized his
bag and hammock, and rushed out of the house to conceal his emotion. When
they reached the depot, they found that the draft to which they belonged
numbered nearly two hundred men, some of whom were old sailors, while
others, like themselves, were entirely unacquainted with the life they
were about to lead.
The journey to Cairo--which was then the naval depot of the Western
rivers--was a long and tedious one. They were treated with the greatest
kindness by the officers who accompanied them, and at almost every station
the people would flock around the cars with baskets of provisions, which
were freely distributed.
Early on the fifth morning they reached their destination, and were
immediately marched on board a small steamer which lay alongside of the
naval wharf-boat, and carried to the receiving-ship, which lay anchored in
the middle of the river.