THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET.
Marcy Gray had passed through the ordeal he so much dreaded, and was as
well satisfied with the way he had come out of it as he had hoped to be.
Of one thing he was certain: every person to whom he had spoken that
morning was suspicious of him, but that was no more than he expected.
Some people in Nashville believed that he had not only instigated but
ordered the destruction of Beardsley's house and Shelby's, and that he
could in like manner command the burning of any house in the settlement
if he felt like it, and that was what he thought they would believe. He
knew it wasn't so, and it troubled and vexed him to have such things
laid to his charge; but how could he help it, and what single thing had
he done to bring it about?
"Heaven knows I wish they would let us alone," was what Marcy said to
himself as he galloped along the road, "but I'll not stand by and see my
mother worried and tormented without doing something to stop it; and if
Beardsley or Shelby or anybody else tries it on, I will have him
punished for it if I can."
Just then a low but shrill whistle, sounding from the woods which came
down close to the road on the left hand, attracted Marcy's attention and
caused him to draw rein gradually and bring his horse to a stand-still.
He pulled a paper from his pocket, and while pretending to read, looked
sideways toward the woods, and saw Aleck Webster making his way up
through the bushes. You will remember that these two once held a short
private interview at this very spot.
"Good-morning, sir," was Aleck's greeting. "We didn't like to break up
your night's rest, but I suppose we did."
"You may safely say that," answered Marcy. "We never slept a wink, or
even tried to, after we saw that Beardsley's house was on fire. My
mother and I are sorry you did that. After you had rescued us, why
couldn't you go away satisfied?"
"And let the same thing happen again?" exclaimed Aleck. "I suppose you
know that Beardsley was to blame for the robbers coming to your house?"
"We don't know it, but we think so," replied Marcy.
"We had as strong evidence as we needed that he meant to do that very
thing, and when he was ready to spring his plans, he found us waiting
for him. Perhaps you don't know it, but your house has been watched
every night for a week past."
"I wish I could find words to thank you," began Marcy.
"Belay that, if you please, sir," said Aleck hastily. "We are helping
ourselves while we are looking out for you. You are Mr. Jack Gray's
brother, and that is enough for me to know. Our letter brought the cap'n
home in a tolerable hurry, and ought to have been a warning to him to
keep still after he got here. Perhaps he will see now that we meant what
we said to him."
"I certainly hope he will, for I don't want to see any more of his
buildings destroyed. I suppose you had reason to connect Colonel Shelby
with Beardsley's schemes?"
"You're right, we did. He was knowing to them and didn't try to stop
them, and so we thought we'd best tell him not to go too far. They
thought, if they left home for a spell, we would not blame them, but we
were onto them all the same. They can't make a move or do a thing that
we don't know it."
Marcy wanted much to ask what means Aleck and his friends used to keep
themselves so well informed; who those friends were and how many there
were of them; but on second thought he decided that the best thing he
could do would be to listen and say nothing. He would have been glad to
know what had been done with the four prisoners the rescuing party
carried away with them; but as Aleck did not once refer to them, Marcy
contented himself with asking about the wounded one.
"Was the man who was knocked down very much hurt?" said he.
"Oh, no. He came around all right in a few minutes," answered Aleck; and
then, as if to show Marcy that he did not intend to say more on that
subject, he hastened to add, "My object in stopping you was to inquire
if you are satisfied with the way I have kept the promise I made Mr.
Jack. I told him I would always stand his friend, and yours. You don't
often get letters from him, I suppose?"
"Not often," replied Marcy, with a smile. "The mail does not run
regularly between our house and the Yankee fleet."
"No, I reckon not; but if you get a chance to write to him, tell him
what I have told you."
"Look here, Aleck," said Marcy suddenly. "Do the members of your band
ever hang about the post-office? I know I have seen you there a few
times."
"Of course; and you will, no doubt, see me there again. We have to go
among people to keep suspicion away from us."
"That's what I thought," continued Marcy. "Now, are you not afraid that
some one will bring soldiers there to make prisoners of you?"
"No, I don't think they will," said Aleck indifferently. "If the
soldiers should come, there are men in that town who would run so fast
to meet and send them back, that you couldn't see them for the mud they
would kick up in the road."
"You mean that they would not permit the soldiers to molest you?"
"They wouldn't, if they could help it, for they know their town would be
destroyed if they did," replied Aleck; and Marcy was frightened by the
spiteful emphasis he threw into his words. "They will be sorry enough,
before we are done with them, that they ever tried to break up this
government. We want peace and quiet, and we're going to have 'em, if we
have to hang every rebel in the country."
This was what we meant when we said, at the close of the last chapter,
that we should soon see whether or not Mark Goodwin had reason to be
alarmed by Tom Allison's reckless proposition. It seemed that every
contingency had been thought of and provided for by the long-headed
Union men who held secret meetings in the swamp, and that, if Allison
possessed ordinary common sense, he would not say a word to the
commanding officers at Plymouth and Roanoke regarding the situation in
and around Nashville. Marcy did not like to hear the stalwart young
sailor talk in this savage strain, so he switched him off on another
track, by saying:
"I want to ask one other question before I forget it: Were you the man
who nodded to me last night, when you and your friends came in, and
saved me from a choking?"
"I reckon so; and I was the one who got your revolvers back for you.
They didn't do you much good, did they? That little nig of yours is as
sharp as they make 'em. Didn't he tell you who we were?"
"He gave us to understand that he didn't know."
"That was all right. It shows that he can be trusted to keep his mouth
shut. But, I am afraid, if we don't quit talking, somebody will ask you
what you found in your paper that was so mighty interesting; so good-by.
Don't be alarmed on account of Beardsley and the rest. I have a notion
that the fear of punishment will make them let you and every other Union
man about here alone after this."
Aleck disappeared among the bushes, and Marcy rode on with his eyes
still fixed upon his newspaper; but he did not see a word in it. He was
thinking of the Union men, who had showed themselves brave enough to
punish their enemies almost under the noses of two strong Confederate
garrisons.
"They are a desperate lot, whoever they are," was his mental reflection,
"and I would rather have them on my side than against me. What will be
the next thing on the programme?"
There was not much work accomplished on the plantation that day, for the
excited negroes, some of whom did not know a thing about the raid of the
previous night until it was over, had too much talking to do among
themselves, and with Morris and Julius, who held their heads high and
threw on airs because they had been prominent actors in the thrilling
scenes that took place in Mrs. Gray's sitting-room. Julius thought
himself of so much consequence that it was all Marcy could do to
persuade him to give the dead Bose a decent burial, and then he was
obliged to go with him to see that the task was well done. But he was
not as impatient with the black boy as he would have been if Aleck
Webster had not spoken so well of him. They had visitors, too; and Marcy
knew that their object in coming was not to sympathize with his mother
and denounce the "outrage" as they called it, but to gain her good will
if they could. As Marcy bluntly expressed it--"They would not come near
us if they thought we were friendless and helpless, but they know we are
not, and so they want to get on our blind side." They fairly "gushed"
over the Confederate flag that was hung upon the wall of the
sitting-room, but when they went away they told one another that that
banner did not express Mrs. Gray's honest sentiments, and that it would
not protect her or her property for one minute if the Richmond
authorities would only yield to the importunities of General Wise, and
send a strong force to occupy Roanoke Island and the surrounding
country. If that time ever came, the general's attention should be
called to the fact that one of the sons of that house was a sailor in
the Yankee navy.
After another almost sleepless night Marcy Gray rode again to the
post-office, to find there the same talkative, indignant, do-nothing
crowd he had long been accustomed to meet at mail time. This morning, if
such a thing were possible, they were more excited and angry than they
had been the day before; but they did not fail to meet Marcy at the
hitching-rack, or to talk to him as though they looked upon him as one
of themselves. He noticed that they all held papers in their hands.
"This thing is going to be stopped now, I bet you," said Mark Goodwin,
who was the first to speak.
"Do you mean the war?" inquired Marcy. "If you do, I am heartily glad to
hear the news."
"I mean the war right around here," answered Mark. "It's got into the
Newbern papers, and they are giving us fits on account of it. They say
it serves us just right."
"What does?"
"Why, having our houses burned and--and all that."
"Do they say anything about robbery?" asked Marcy. "Or about threatening
to pull a law-abiding boy up by the neck because he does not happen to
have a pocketful of money with him?"
"No," replied Mark, rather indignantly; and then, seeing by the curious
smile on Marcy's face that he had spoken too quickly, he added, "I
suppose of course that they do say something about that outrage, but I
can't tell for certain, for I have only had time to read what my papers
say concerning the burning of Beardsley's house and Shelby's."
"Probably they don't refer to the way those four villains conducted
themselves in my mother's house," said Marcy, in a tone of contempt.
"It's altogether too insignificant a thing to have travelled as far as
the city of Newbern."
"It isn't, either!" exclaimed Tom Allison, glaring savagely at Marcy.
"Nothing is too insignificant to attract attention these times. My paper
says--but there it is. Read it for yourself."
"Thank you; I can't stop," answered Marcy, moving toward the office.
"I'll get my own, and read it on the way home."
Contrary to his expectations he did not find a very belligerent crowd in
there. The space between the counters was filled with men, and they were
all talking at once; but they had learned wisdom by past experience, and
however much they might have desired to threaten somebody, they were
careful not to do it. They denounced Yankees and their sympathizers in a
general way, and declared that it was a cowardly piece of business to
burn houses while their owners were absent, but they did not mention any
names. Marcy loitered about until he found that he was not going to hear
anything more than he had heard a score of times before, and then
mounted his horse and set out for home. Dropping the reins upon his
filly's neck and allowing her to choose her own gait, he drew his
Newbern paper from his pocket, and began looking for the article of
which Mark Goodwin had spoken. He could not run amiss of it, for the
black headlines were too prominent. They took up more than half the
column, and after Marcy had run his eye over a few of the leading
ones, he had a very good idea of the article itself. He read:
"A Reign of Terror.--Civil War Inaugurated in a Sovereign State.
--Cowardly Citizens Who Allow a Handful of Traitors to Work their
Sweet Will of Them.--Armed and Masked Incendiaries Abroad at Night."
"There now!" exclaimed Marcy, when he read the last line. "That is as
good proof as I want that the man who wrote this knew the whole story.
Mother and I were the only white persons who saw those men, and nobody
would have known that they were armed and masked if I hadn't said so.
I'll bet you the paper doesn't say a word concerning the 'cowardly
citizen' who sent those robbers to our house."
Swallowing his indignation as well as he could, Marcy turned his
attention to the article, which ran as follows:
"We have learned, from what we think to be reliable sources,
that a reign of terror exists in certain portions of this
Commonwealth that is a burning shame and a disgrace to the
cowards who permit it. They claim to be loyal Southern
gentlemen up there, but they will have to furnish better
proof than they have thus far given before we will believe
it. When the gallant Wise was placed in command of this
district in December last, Secretary Benjamin desired him to
bring his legion up to 10,000 strong by recruiting in North
Carolina. There was reason for this order, and for anxiety
regarding Roanoke and adjacent points, because as early as
September, 1861, General McClellan requested the Yankee
Secretary of War 'to organize two brigades of five regiments
each of New England men, for the general service, but
particularly adapted to coast service.' That means that he
intended to turn a horde of red-hot abolitionists and
nigger-lovers loose upon our almost defenceless shores. Wise
saw and realized the danger, tried hard to obey Secretary
Benjamin's order, and failed; and now we know the reason
why. How could he make brave soldiers out of men who will
permit armed and masked traitors to ride about their county
of nights, wreaking vengeance upon those who are so
unfortunate as to incur their displeasure? While we deeply
sympathize with Messrs. Shelby and Beardsley, whose
dwellings were burned last night, and wish that the
incendiaries might have chosen some less out-spoken and
liberal citizens as their victims, we are constrained to say
that the lesson that community has received is well
deserved. Now let them arouse and stamp this lawlessness out
with an iron heel; and let us warn those Union men in the
same breath, and all others who feel disposed to follow in
their lead, that their day will be a short one. They will
not be driven from the country they will be hunted down like
dogs, and hanged to the nearest tree. They will not be shot.
That is the death the loyal soldier dies, but we save the
rope for traitors."
"The editor's pen was so mad it stuttered when it wrote this rambling
article," thought Marcy. "It couldn't talk straight. If he owned about
fifty thousand dollars' worth of houses in these parts, he would not
write so glibly about hanging Union men. Now, let us see what sort of
language he used in denouncing the raid that was made upon our house."
He looked the paper through without finding any reference to it, but
that was no more than he expected. The outrages of every description
that were perpetrated upon Union people during the days of the war, by
"loyal Southern gentlemen," were of so common occurrence, and of so
little consequence besides, that they were never mentioned in the
newspapers. The oft-expressed verdict was that Unionists had no rights
that any white man was bound to respect.
"If our house had been burned and everybody in it hanged, this rebel
sheet would not have said a word against it." thought Marcy, shoving the
paper into his pocket and starting up his horse. "Mark Goodwin says that
these things have got to be stopped now, which means that Beardsley and
Shelby will set something else afoot as soon as they return from the
Island. Now, let us see what it will be. Shall I show this paper to
mother, or not?"
This was the question that Marcy pondered during his ride, and the
conclusion he came to was that his mother had as much right to know the
worst as he had to know it himself; so he handed out the paper as soon
as he reached home, and rode on to the field to see how his small force
was getting on with the work he had assigned it.
Then came several days of suspense that were hard to bear. Beardsley and
Shelby came home as soon as they heard of the loss they had sustained,
but what they had to say, and what they made up their minds to do about
it, never came to Marcy's ears. They did not take the trouble to call
upon Mrs. Gray. Evidently they did not think it worth while, because she
could not restore to them the property they had lost; but others, who
had roofs that they wanted to keep over their heads, came every day or
two, although they did not bring much news that was worth hearing. About
all Marcy learned was that Beardsley and his companion had returned
filled with martial ardor, that they were working night and day to send
recruits to Roanoke Island, although they did not show any signs of
going back there themselves. They declared that the Island was as strong
as Gibraltar, and if the Yankees were foolish enough to send an
expedition against it, there wouldn't be a man of them left to tell the
story of the fight; and they wanted all the youngsters in the country to
go there and enlist, so that they could be able to say that they had
assisted in winning the most glorious victory of modern times. They were
very enthusiastic themselves, and they made some others so; but Marcy
Gray, who kept a close watch of all that went on in the settlement, did
not see more than a dozen young men and boys fall in in response to
their earnest appeals.
"It's a disgraceful state of affairs," said Tom Allison one morning,
when Marcy met him at the post-office. "The Southern people deserve to
be whipped, they are so lacking in patriotism."
"Did you ever think of going into the army yourself?" inquired Marcy.
"I can't go," replied Tom. "We have sent our overseer, and that is as
much as we can do at present. I wanted to enlist weeks ago, but father
said I must stay at home and help him manage the place."
Marcy found it hard to keep from laughing outright when Tom said this.
The latter had never done a day's work at overseeing or anything else,
and it is doubtful if he could have told whether or not a corn furrow
was laid off straight. He was too indolent to do anything but eat,
sleep, and ride about the country.
"There are plenty around here who could go as well as not," continued
Tom, "and I might go myself if I could only get a commission. But I
won't go as a private soldier."
"Have you tried to get a commission?" asked Marcy.
Tom replied that he had not. He did not know how to go about it, and was
not acquainted with any one who could tell him.
"Then hunt up General Wise, and ask his advice," suggested Marcy. "He
can, and no doubt will put you on the right track at once."
But Tom Allison was much too sharp to do a thing like that. He was well
aware that enlisted men had no love for "cits" who could go into the
army and wouldn't, and the promise of a colonel's commission would not
have induced him to go among them. He meant to remain at home and let
other and poorer men's sons do the fighting, and Marcy knew it all the
while.
The latter did not put much faith in the stories that Captain Beardsley
and Colonel Shelby had spread through the country, and when his mother's
negroes began coming home in companies of twos and threes, he put still
less faith in them. They were a sorry-looking lot, ragged and dirty; and
the first thing they asked for as they crowded about the kitchen door
was something to eat.
"Oh, missus, don't eber luf dem rebels take we uns away agin," was their
constant plea. "Dey 'buse us de wust you eber see. Dey whop us, an' dey
kick us, an' dey don't gib us half 'nough to eat. We all starve to def.
We been prayin' night an' day dat de Yankees may come an' shoot dat
place plum to pieces."
"But the trouble is that the Yankees can't do it," said Marcy, as he
bustled about in search of bread and meat to satisfy the demands of the
hungry blacks. "Captain Beardsley says the Island is too strong to be
captured."
The negroes confessed that they did not know much about military
matters, but they did know that there was much dissatisfaction among the
soldiers composing the garrison, many of whom declared that they would
make tracks for home as soon as their year was out, leaving the
Confederacy to gain its independence in any way it pleased. The Richmond
authorities would not help them, the people along the coast were too
cowardly or too lazy to shoulder a musket, and they were not going to
stay in the army and eat hard-tack while other able-bodied men stayed at
home and lived on the fat of the land. They would do their duty until
their term of enlistment expired, and then they would stand aside and
give somebody else a chance to fight the Yankees. That was what a good
many deluded and disappointed rebels thought and said about this time;
but those who have read "Rodney, the Partisan," know how very easy it
was for the Confederate authorities to bring such malcontents to their
senses.
But at last the time came when at least one of these vexed questions was
to be solved by a trial at arms. While the scenes we have attempted to
describe were being enacted on shore, others, that were of no less
interest and importance to Marcy Gray and the people who lived in and
around Nashville, were transpiring on the water. On the 11th day of
January a formidable military and naval expedition, consisting of more
than a hundred gunboats, transports, and supply ships, set sail from
Fortress Monroe. Its object was to obtain possession of Roanoke Island,
which the Confederates had spent so much time and care in fortifying,
and which their General Wise called "the key to all the rear defences of
Norfolk." Two days later the expedition arrived off Hatteras just as a
fierce northeast gale was springing up, and two days after that the
Newbern papers brought the encouraging news to Nashville. We say
encouraging, because there was not a man or boy in town who did not
honestly believe that those hundred vessels were doomed to certain and
swift destruction. As in the case of a former expedition, Tom Allison
was much afraid that the wind and the waves would do the work which the
gunners at Roanoke Island were anxious to do themselves.
"Oh, don't I wish this wind would go down!" was the way he greeted Marcy
on the morning on which the news of the arrival of the fleet reached
Nashville. "Here we've gone and worked like beavers to fortify the
island, hoping and expecting to give the Yankees a Bull Run licking
there, and now Old Hatteras has taken the matter out of our hands, and
is pounding the expedition to pieces on the shoals. Half of the enemy's
tubs have gone to smash already, and the rest will go back as soon as
they can. Not one of them will ever cross the bar, I tell you."
For two weeks a furious gale raged along the coast, and, during that
time, Marcy Gray lived in a state of suspense that cannot be described.
He could not bring himself down to work, so he went to town twice each
day, and always came back to report the loss of another ship belonging
to the expedition.
"Why, Marcy, if they keep on losing vessels at this rate, there will not
be any expedition left after a while," said his mother one day.
"These reports are all false," declared Marcy. "I tell them to you
because they are told to me, and not because I expect you to believe
them. Don't worry. Those ships are commanded by Yankees, and Yankees are
the best sailors in the world."
For a time it looked as though Tom Allison's prediction would be
verified; for it was only after fifteen days' struggle with the
elements, and the loss of four vessels, that Burnside and his naval
associate, Flag-officer Goldsborough, succeeded in passing through
Hatteras Inlet to the calmer waters of Pamlico Sound. It was an
exhibition of patient courage and skill on the part of the Union
officers and men that astonished everybody; and even Tom Allison was
willing to confess that things were getting serious. There was bound to
be a terrible battle at the Island, and the citizens of Nashville would
hear the guns. And if the Island should be captured, as Forts Hatteras
and Clark were captured, then what? The thought was terrifying to the
timid ones, who straightway hid their clothing, and began carrying the
contents of their cellars, smoke-houses, and corn-cribs into the woods,
as they had done when the news came that Butler and Stringham had
reduced the fortifications at the Inlet; but, on this occasion, Mrs.
Gray's neighbors were all so busy with their own affairs that they did
not have time to run over and find fault with her because she did not
hide anything.
A few days of inactivity followed, during which the fleet was repairing
the damages it had received during the storm, and then a hush seemed to
fall upon the whole nation as the news was flashed over it that the
final struggle for the possession of those waters was about to begin.
The low, swampy shores of the Sound being but sparsely settled, and
nearly all the able-bodied men in the country, both white and black,
having been summoned to the Island, some as soldiers and the others to
work on the forts and trenches, there were few to witness the grand and
imposing spectacle the fleet presented as it moved into position on the
evening of February 5, and dropped anchor within a few miles of the
entrance to Croatan Sound; but among those few was one who was destined
to bring Marcy Gray into deeper trouble than he had ever known before,
and the reader will acknowledge that that is saying a good deal. It was
Doctor Patten's negro boy Jonas. He lay flat behind some obstruction
near the water's edge, and took in the whole scene as if it had been a
review arranged for his especial benefit. He saw the waters of the Sound
splash as the heavy anchors were dropped into them, and could even hear
the shrill tones of the boatswains' pipes. When darkness came and shut
the nearest vessel out from his view, he scrambled to his feet and
hastened toward his master's house, muttering under his breath:
"Jonas been prayin' hard fur de Yankees to come, an' bress de Lawd, here
dey is! Now, what Jonas gwine do?"