HOME AGAIN.
Marcy Gray waited until the boat drew a little nearer, and then looked
again. There could be no mistake about it. The man in the stern-sheets
with the coxswain was Aleck Webster, the one who had promised to have an
eye on Marcy and his mother while Jack was at sea, and those who
composed his party were men whom Marcy met at the post-office almost as
often as he went there. If they were coming off to enlist, as Marcy
thought they were, wouldn't that break up the band who held meetings in
the swamp? And if that band should be broken up, who would there be to
stand between his mother and the wrath of Captain Beardsley? These
questions and others like them passed through the boy's mind, as he came
down from the bridge and stepped to the gangway to meet Aleck and his
friends when they came on board. Aleck was the first to get out of the
boat and mount the ladder, and when he reached the top, where the
officer of the deck was standing, he touched his hat and said:
"We want to ship, sir."
"Very good," was the answer. "Stand to one side, and some one will talk
to you presently."
This gave Marcy the opportunity he wanted to speak to Aleck. He moved to
his side at once, and was surprised to hear Aleck say, as if he had
expected to find him there:
"I was little in hopes I should have a chance to say good-by to you,
sir. Where's old man Beardsley, and have you seen anything of Mr.
Jack?"
"Did you know I was here?" asked Marcy.
"I knew you were in the fleet, of course, for the darkies told us about
the Yankees coming ashore and taking you and Beardsley away to act as
pilots," replied Aleck. "But I didn't know you were serving on this
ship, if that is what you mean. Yes; we're going now where we can fight
for our principles. We are tired of living in the woods."
"But who will protect the Union families if you go away?" said Marcy.
"They'll not need any one to protect them now," answered Aleck. "I
talked to some of the soldiers on shore, and they told me they were here
to stay; and as long as they do stay, Beardsley and Shelby and among 'em
will keep as still as mice. They won't dare to do or say anything to you
while there is Union cavalry scouting around through the settlement
every day or two. We left thirteen men in the swamp; and whether or not
they will come out and show themselves as Union men, depends on the way
things look after the fleet goes away."
Marcy was on the point of telling Aleck that Beardsley had been placed
in irons by Captain Benton, who was master of the _Mary Hollins_ at the
time she was captured by the _Osprey_, but before he could open his lips
a messenger boy came up and told him that the captain wished to see him
in the cabin. Marcy went, and found the captain seated at his table
holding a pen in one hand and something that looked like a blank sheet
of paper in the other.
"Sit down," said he, pointing to a chair. "I suppose we are as near to
your home as we shall go; and as we are about to start for Newbern,
where you will not be of much service to us as a pilot, I propose to
give you your release unless you have made up your mind to stay with us.
I should be glad to have you do it, and will advance your interests in
every way I can."
"But what would my mother do without me?" asked Marcy.
"I assure you I have not forgotten her, and so I do not urge you to
remain," replied the captain. "Now, how can you get home in the easiest
way?"
"By boat, if I had one."
"You can have three or four if you want that many. You know that we have
captured every sort of craft we could find along the shore, and you can
take your pick of any of those on deck. I don't know that this will be
of any use to you," said the captain, shaking the sheet of paper he held
in his hand, "but I think it would be a good plan for you to take it
along, for there is no telling what may happen. You don't think there is
anything on it, do you? Well, there is, and it is the strongest letter
of recommendation I know how to write. We are going to leave garrisons
scattered all through this region, and if at any time you find yourself
in trouble with them, tell the first officer you can find to hold this
paper before a hot fire and read the words the heat will bring out. The
letter is written with sympathetic ink, and you don't want to use it
until you have to, because, after the characters have once been brought
out, there is no way that I know of to make them invisible again. I am
deeply indebted to you, and wish there was some way in which I could
serve you."
It made Marcy sad to have the captain talk to him in this way. Although
he was impatient to get home, he did not like to take leave of the new
friends he had made on board that ship, for the probabilities were that
he would never see them again. After thinking a moment he replied that
he did not know of anyway in which the captain could favor him, unless
it was by taking a brotherly interest in Aleck Webster and his friends,
who had come off to his ship for the purpose of enlisting.
"They are on deck now," said Marcy, in conclusion, "and I was sorry to
see them come aboard. Of course they have a right to do as they please,
but I had somehow got it into my head that they would stay on shore to
protect those of us who are unable to protect ourselves. But Aleck
thinks we do not need any one to protect us now that all these captured
points are to be held by the Union forces."
"And that is what I think," replied the captain. "The commanding officer
at Plymouth will not stand by and let your rebel neighbors impose on
you. If they don't behave themselves, report them; that's all you've got
to do."
"But you don't know how sly they are, and how hard it is to prove
anything against them. The commodore as good as said that Captain
Beardsley would be released."
"Of course; and Burnside probably released him at the time he paroled
the prisoners we captured on the Island. When you get home you will
probably find him there, but I don't think you have anything to fear
from him. There's your letter, and here are a few copies of a joint
proclamation by Burnside and Goldsborough, which I am instructed to
scatter wherever I go," said the captain, placing a good-sized package
in Marcy's hand and rising from his seat as he spoke. "Take them along,
and put them where you think they will do the most good. I suppose the
folks ashore think we are outlaws of the worst description."
Marcy replied that that was about the idea the people in his settlement
had of Yankees, and added that he did not believe that a single article
of value could be found in a plantation house within a circle of ten
miles of Plymouth, everything that was worth stealing having been
carried away and concealed in the swamps.
"Well, when you meet people of that sort, call their attention to the
last paragraph of that proclamation," said the captain. "Now, we shall
have to say good-by, for I expect to drop down the river in a few
minutes."
"And you'll not forget to look out for Jack and Aleck?" said Marcy. "You
know Aleck is the man who saved me from choking. And I can have my flag
back, I suppose?"
"I'll have Webster sworn in this very night, and when I see the captain
of the _Lane_ I will tell him what I know about Jack Gray, and will say
that his brother did me good service while the fleet was in Croatan and
Albemarle sounds. The quartermaster will return your flag at once."
Marcy went into the state room that he had used as his own since he had
been on board the ship, and when he came out he brought his valise, in
which he had stowed the package the captain had intrusted to his care.
The flag with which his Harrington girl presented him, and which had
waved triumphant during three hard battles and several sharp skirmishes,
was promptly handed out by the quartermaster on watch, and then Marcy
followed the captain to the waist, to pick out the skiff that was to
take him to his home. As his wounded arm was not yet in a serviceable
condition, he selected a boat with a square stern, that could be sculled
with one oar. After it had been put into the water, and the countersign,
"Roanoke," had been whispered in his ear, Marcy shook hands all around,
not forgetting Aleck Webster and the other Union men among the rest, and
pushed off into the darkness. The current was strong, and Marcy hugged
the bank to keep out of it as much as he could, and by so doing brought
himself to the notice of half a dozen sentries who compelled him to come
ashore with the countersign. Of course this was a bother, and the
progress he made with his one-handed sculling was slow and laborious;
but it was safer than following a lonely road and running the risk of
falling in with some of those rebel soldiers whom General Burnside had
sent to their homes. Marcy told himself that that was about the worst
thing that could have happened to him. He was afraid that these paroled
prisoners would be pliant tools in the hands of Captain Beardsley, and
they were so numerous that the thirteen Union men, who were all there
were left of the band that had rescued him and his mother from the power
of the robbers, could not hold their own against them.
"Things will be worse now than they ever were before," thought Marcy, as
he sculled his boat out of the river into Seven Mile Creek, and sat down
to take a much-needed rest and eat a portion of the lunch that Captain
Benton's steward had put up for him. "Beardsley will be more vindictive
than ever, because I did not say a word for him when Captain Benton put
him in irons, and if the truth will not answer his purpose, he'll not
scruple to lie about me. He'll try his best to force me into the army so
that he can have a clear field for his operations, but I'll tell you
what's a fact, I'll not go," said Marcy hotly. "Jack declared that he
would take to the swamp before he would fight for the Confederacy, and
why shouldn't I do the same? I will. I'll become a refugee rather than
shoot at the flag my brother is sailing under. Refugee: one who flees
for refuge or safety. That's me, as Dick Graham used to say. I'll seek
safety among the Union men who spend the most of their time in the
woods. It's my opinion that from now on they will have to spend all
their time there, for I don't believe that the prisoners Burnside
released will leave any houses for them to go into. Mother's will have
to go with the rest."
Marcy had often made the trip from his mother's house to Plymouth and
back in a rowboat, and if he thought it hard when he had two hands to
use, it was doubly tedious and discouraging now that he had only one,
and nothing but the most gloomy thoughts for company. He had almost made
up his mind that he would camp on the bank for the rest of the night and
walk home in the morning, when he was startled by hearing a low,
familiar whistle, something like the chirp of a cricket, a short
distance away. He listened until the sound was repeated, and then called
out, in a husky voice:
"Julius!"
"Hi ya!" came the answer through the darkness; and Marcy thought he had
never heard anything half so melodious as the black boy's laugh. "I done
tol' dat fool niggah he didn't know nuffin, but he won't listen to
Julius. Eberybody take Julius for a plum dunce; but I done fine you,
Marse Mahcy, an' dere's dat Morris----"
"Where are you?" interrupted the boy. "Come here and tell me what you
mean, and what brought you here so far from home."
"Nuffin didn't brung me hyar; I jes done come," replied Julius; and a
slight splashing in the water indicated that he was in a boat, and that
he was pushing off from the bank in the direction from which Marcy's
voice sounded. "Dat fool Morris, he take de mu-el an' de filly an' done
gone to Nashville lookin' for you; but I know you aint gwine come home
dat a way fru all dem rebel soldiers, an' so I come hyar."
"And very glad I am to see you," answered Marcy, laying hold of the side
of the dugout that just then bumped against his skiff. "You came here to
meet me while Morris went to Nashville with my horse. How did you know I
was coming home to-night?"
"Well, de missus say you boun' to come mighty soon, now dat de Yankees
done cotch Plymouth, an' so I come hyar," replied Julius. "Howdy, Marse
Mahcy!"
The latter replied that he felt pretty well but hungry, although he had
just finished a hearty lunch. Julius had been thoughtful enough to
provide for that, and straightway produced a basket whose contents would
have withstood the assaults of two or three boys with appetites sharper
than his own; and while he ate, Marcy asked a good many leading
questions, in the hope of inducing his close-mouthed black friend to
tell him just how things had been going at home during his absence. He
learned that Captain Beardsley had returned in company with some of the
prisoners who had been paroled at the Island, but so far as Julius knew
he had not set any new plans afloat against Marcy and his mother.
Perhaps he did not think it would be safe to do so until things became a
little more settled, for among those who had been captured at Roanoke
were many who were very bitter against the Confederate government, and
who declared that they would fight before they would go into the army
again. Some of the soldiers had stopped at the house to ask for
something to eat; but others had marched by shaking their fists and
yelling derisively. Marcy's heart sank when he heard that, for it proved
that he had not been mistaken as to the course Captain Beardsley would
pursue when the Federals permitted him to return to his home.
Undoubtedly he had told all he knew about Mrs. Gray and her two sons,
and it would have been just like him if he had urged the defeated and
enraged Confederates to take satisfaction out of all the Union people
they could find, since they had failed to beat those who had confronted
them in battle. Indeed, that was what Beardsley did; and Marcy afterward
found out why his scheme did not work.
Having taken the sharp edge off his appetite, Marcy told Julius to make
the skiff's painter fast to the stern of his dugout and go ahead; and
the sooner he reached home the better he would like it. He found it much
easier to lie at full length on the bottom of his boat, and allow Julius
to tow him, than it was to work his way against a strong current with
one hand--so very much easier, in fact, that he dropped asleep and
slumbered until the bow of the skiff touched the landing abreast of the
buoy to which his little schooner was moored. The sight of her recalled
to mind the last conversation he had held with Captain Benton.
"I am afraid we shall have to look up a new berth for the _Fairy Belle_"
said he. "It may not be safe for her to stay here any longer, because
the Yankees are taking possession of everything in the shape of a boat
that they can get their hands on."
"What for dey do dat?" exclaimed Julius. "De boats aint agin de Union."
"They have been made to do service against the Union," answered Marcy,
"and they can be used to carry dispatches from one side of the river to
the other."
"Well, den, luf dem go down an' bus' up Cap'n Beardsley's schooner,"
exclaimed Julius. "She wuk agin de Union when she run de blockade."
"I know that; and I had half a notion to put Captain Benton on the track
of her," said Marcy, who knew very well that he had no intention of
doing anything of the kind. "That is the way he would serve me if he had
a good chance. Pick up my valise and come along."
When Marcy went through the gate he missed his faithful Bose, who had
always been the first to welcome him; but some of the house servants
were stirring, and these greeted him as though they had never expected
to see him again. They knew where he had been and what he had been
doing, and had thought of and prayed for him as often as they heard the
roar of the big guns, which the breeze now and then brought faintly to
their ears. They made such a fuss over him that Marcy was saved the
trouble of awaking his mother, whom he found waiting for him in the
sitting-room.
"You told me that when I came home you wanted me to be able to say that
I did my duty," said the young pilot, as his mother laid her head on his
shoulder and cried softly. "I can honestly say it, and I have a letter
in my pocket from Captain Benton that will bear me out in it."
"I am sorry you brought it with you," said Mrs. Gray. "The country is
overrun with Confederate soldiers, and from the way some of them behave
I am led to believe that they know all about us."
"I'll bet they do," said Marcy bitterly. "You know, of course, that
Beardsley was carried away the same night and for the same purpose I
was? Well, the Yankees did not call upon him to act as pilot, but put
him in irons at once; and I am sorry to say that he was paroled at the
time the other prisoners were. But you need not worry about my letter,
as I shall presently show you. Sit down, and tell me what you have done
to kill time since I have been gone."
To his relief Marcy found that Julius had told the truth for once in his
life, and that his mother had had nothing beyond his absence to trouble
her, if we except the demonstrations that some of the paroled prisoners
made while they were going by the house. They had not annoyed her by
coming into the yard, as they might have done if their officers had not
been along to restrain them, but they had whooped and yelled and
threatened in a way that was enough to frighten anybody. She said that
the excitement and alarm that took possession of the people when the
news came that Roanoke Island was in the hands of the invading forces,
was something she would remember as long as she lived. The news must
have reached Nashville and Plymouth on the night of the surrender, for
at daylight the next morning the road in front of the house was filled
with fugitives who were making all haste to carry their property out of
harm's way. If a body of Yankee cavalry had suddenly appeared at their
heels it would scarcely have caused a flutter among them, for they were
panic-stricken already.
"The world is full of fools," exclaimed Marcy, undoing the string that
held together the bundle of proclamations that Captain Benton had given
him, "and the biggest ones I ever heard of live right around here.
Didn't they ask you why you didn't pack up and run, too?"
"They did; and my reply was, that I had a son who had been impressed
into the Union service; that if I went away he would not know where to
look for me, and that I intended remaining in my home until he
returned," said Mrs. Gray.
"Good for you, mother!" exclaimed Marcy. "You'll do. Of course, the last
one of them was suspicious of you, but you couldn't help that. Now, here
are some copies of a proclamation that Captain Benton gave me, with the
request that I would spread them around where they would do the most
good. He wished me to call particular attention to the last paragraph,
and now I will see how it reads."
Seating himself by his mother's side, with a copy of the proclamation in
his hand, Marcy proceeded to read it aloud. After referring to the
desolating war, that had been brought on by comparatively few bad men,
the last paragraph went on to say:
"These men are your worst enemies. They, in truth, have drawn
you into your present condition, and are the real disturbers
of your peace and the happiness of your firesides. We invite
you, in the name of the Constitution, and in that of
virtuous loyalty and civilization, to separate yourselves at
once from their malign influence, to return to your
allegiance, and not compel us to resort farther to the force
under our control. The government asks only that its
authority may be recognized; and we repeat that in no manner
or way does it desire to interfere with your laws,
constitutionally established; your institutions, of any kind
whatever; your property, of any sort; or your usages, in any
respect.
"That was what Mr. Watkins told you on the night he took me away," said
Marcy, when he had finished reading the proclamation. "He said that the
South could end the war by laying down their arms, and General Burnside
and Commodore Goldsborough say the same."
"But, my son, that is not what the secession leaders want," said Mrs.
Gray. "They demand a separate government, and say they will not return
to their allegiance."
"They'll have to do it, and, when they go back, they'll not take slavery
with them. Mark my words. The time is coming when the darkies will be as
free as we are; and I wish that time might come to-morrow, if it would
only bring peace upon the land once more. I sometimes think, and hope,
that I am having a horrid dream, and that I will wake up in the morning
to find everything as it was before. Now, don't cry, mother. I'll not
talk so any more. There's my flag as sound as it was when I took it
away; but it has been in battle-smoke so thick that you couldn't see it
from the deck. I must hoist Dick Graham's next, but not until it can
float in a breeze that is untainted by any secession rag. That was the
promise I made him when he gave me the flag, instead of turning it over
to Rodney, who wanted to destroy it. Can't we have breakfast a little
earlier, so that I can go to town?"
"You can have breakfast whenever you want it; but, Marcy, I am almost
afraid to have you go to town," replied his mother.
"If I thought I would be in any more danger there than I am at home I
wouldn't stir one step," said the boy. "I don't think it would be policy
for me to keep away from those paroled prisoners, but that it would be
safest for me to go among them as Captain Beardsley does. Besides, I
want to hear what sort of stories that old villain has been telling
about me since he came back. Now, where would be a good place to put
Captain Benton's letter? We are liable to receive a visit from the Union
cavalry any day, and the letter ought to be kept handy."
In accordance with Marcy's request breakfast was served as soon as it
could be made ready, and during the progress of the meal Marcy
entertained his mother with a glowing description of the various
engagements through which he had passed on Captain Benton's vessel.
Contrary to his expectations, he said, he did not feel frightened when
he went into the first fight at the Island, and no doubt the reason was
because he had so many things to occupy his mind; but after that he grew
pale and trembled every time he heard the call to quarters, for he had a
faint idea of what was before him. And the oftener he was under fire the
more he dreaded the thought of going into action. His experience was
like that of every soldier in this land; and when we say _soldier_ we do
not mean _coffee-cooler_.
Mrs. Gray became alarmed when Marcy told her how Captain Beardsley had
been put in irons by the man who had once been his prisoner, for she was
well enough acquainted with the captain to know that he would be
revenged upon somebody for it. When he had eaten all the breakfast he
wanted, Marcy mounted his mother's horse, that had been brought to the
door in place of his filly which old Morris had taken to Nashville, and
galloped out of the yard. The first man he saw was Beardsley, standing
by the ruins of his house. The man looked up when he heard the sound of
hoofs on the road, and when he discovered Marcy he beckoned him to come
in.
"I've just thought of something," said the boy to himself, as he turned
into the gate. "This villain is going to play off friendly, and I can't
watch him any too closely. When the Yanks get to scouting through here,
he will be the best Union man in the world; and who knows but he will
send them to our house after Jack's rebel flag? That flag must come down
the minute I get home."
Then he rode up and shook hands with Captain Beardsley, who acted as if
he was glad to see him.