UP THE RIVER.
Jack Somers was delighted with the change which had been made in his
position: not that he was dissatisfied with his duties on board the
Harrisburg; but there was a prospect of being ordered to more active
duty. The Middy was small and fast; and he was confident that her
services would be in continual demand. Besides, Mr. Bankhead was now
his captain; and he hoped he should have a better opportunity to
distinguish himself.
Jack had hardly become accustomed to his new quarters in the Middy
before a new character appeared on board, and one with whom the
quartermasters were to become particularly intimate. He was a
rough-looking man, and swore ever so much more than there was any
need of; but he was not much worse than many of the crew. Jack Somers
had not yet learned to swear. He was strongly tempted, sometimes,
to use big words; but, when he observed that Mr. Bankhead and Mr.
Granger never uttered an oath, he came to the conclusion that he could
better afford to imitate them than the seamen who were less careful
of their speech. Tom Longstone never used a profane word: and a long
conversation with him, while the Harrisburg lay at anchor below the
city, had fully confirmed all his previous resolutions.
Mr. Lunsley did swear; and his nose was very red, and his manners
very coarse. Jack did not like him at all when he appeared at the
wheel-house, where the two quartermasters were engaged in making things
snug and orderly. He was the very antipodes of Mr. Bankhead, who was a
perfect gentleman in all his relations both with his inferiors and his
superiors in rank. There was only one thing about him which Jack did
like; and that was the rosette of “red, white, and blue,” which he wore
upon the lapel of his coat, indicating that he was a loyal man. In the
midst of so many traitors, this was no small recommendation in a man
who knew every bend and shoal of the Mississippi River.
“All hands, up anchor, ahoy!” passed through the Middy shortly after
the appearance of Mr. Lunsley.
Tom Longstone and Jack were in the wheel-house with the pilot, who was
smoking his cigar, and watching the operations of the sailors on the
forecastle.
“Anchor’s away, sir!” said the man who officiated in the capacity of
boatswain, to Mr. Hayswell, who stood upon the hurricane-deck.
“Strike one bell, Jack!” added the lieutenant.
“One bell, sir!”
The Middy went ahead slowly; and, when the anchor had been placed on
the forecastle, the four bells were struck, and she went ahead rapidly
up the river. Jack had the wheel, and received his directions from Mr.
Lunsley, who continued to smoke his cigar and to swear, though he had
nothing particular to swear at.
At the time of which we write, the country on both sides of the river
was in possession of the enemy, who closely watched the stream, though
they were very careful not to demonstrate upon any of the gunboats
which passed up and down after the capture of New Orleans. Though the
rebels could not successfully contest the possession of the river with
the powerful naval armaments of the Government, it was their policy
to impede the navigation as much as possible. Masked batteries had
been planted at various points, and companies of light-artillery and
sharp-shooters were employed to annoy any steamers which had not the
means of returning the fire.
Even the gunboats and larger vessels were annoyed by riflemen
attempting to pick off any man who showed his head above the bulwarks,
or appeared in the rigging. The Middy had been prepared for duty with a
full knowledge of this state of things. Her wheel-house had been plated
with iron sufficiently thick to resist a rifleball. Iron screens had
been prepared to protect the men while working the guns.
The Middy continued on her course up the river, bearing the stars and
stripes through the very midst of the discomfited rebels. The men were
piped to dinner as usual; and no one on board seemed to consider that
he was in the enemy’s country, and surrounded by enterprising and
spiteful foes. Tom was at dinner; and Jack was alone with Mr. Lunsley,
who declared that he could not leave till the steamer had passed a
certain difficult bend which he described.
“I think I can get along alone, after what you have said,” added Jack,
who had a great deal of confidence in his own ability.
“Perhaps you can, my little joker; but I don’t trust this craft out of
sight when there’s a shoal ahead,” replied the pilot; and of course he
could not utter a remark of this length without interlarding it with
half a dozen Mississippi oaths.
“Your directions are very plain, and I thought I understood them.”
“But I have some pride in this business. I’ve run up and down this
brook for ten years, and always had good luck. Now, if this steamer
should get aground, some of your folks would call me a traitor, or some
other pretty name of that sort.”
“I think not, sir.”
“I won’t trust ’em, little joker. If you----”
The loyal philosophy which was contained in the thought Mr. Lunsley
was about to utter was forever lost upon our hero; for a cannon-shot
at this instant whistled through the air, unpleasantly near the
wheel-house.
“I know’d it!” said he, changing his tone and manner.
“Knew what?”
“I know’d there was a battery here.”
“What did you ran us upon it for, then?”
“We must go in the channel, any way, my joker. But maybe you ain’t
afraid of cannon-balls?”
“Not particularly; though I have a wholesome respect for them when they
are properly projected,” replied Jack.
Another shot followed the first, and then a third. The crew were called
to quarters, and Tom Longstone returned to the wheel-house. Captain
Bankhead took his station on the hurricane-deck, by the side of the
pilot; and Mr. Hayswell was on the forward-deck.
“Strike two bells, quartermaster,” said the captain.
“Two bells, sir.”
The boat stopped; for it was no part of Captain Bankhead’s plan to
have his vessel knocked to pieces without an adequate compensation.
By his order, the thirty-two-pounder on the forecastle was discharged
in the direction from which the shot came. Old Grummet was captain of
this piece; and there was not a better gunner in the navy. The old man
growled all the time; but he worked with an alacrity which spoke better
for his zeal and courage than his words did. After half a dozen shells
had been thrown into the thicket from which the firing had proceeded,
the guns of the enemy appeared to be silenced; and the Middy again
proceeded on her way.
She had been backed down the stream some distance; and, during
the firing, the engine had worked just enough to keep her head
up the river, and give her steerage-way. As she advanced, the
thirty-two-pounder continued to discourse with the unseen rebels.
“We are all right now, Tom!” said Jack.
“Not yet, my darling. The rebel guns is short range; and, when we come
up, they’ll give us some more.”
“You may depend on that,” added Mr. Lunsley. “Starboard! quartermaster.”
“Starboard, sir!” replied Tom.
“Steady!”
“Steady, sir!”
“Now we catch it again!” continued the pilot. “Starboard!”
“Starboard, sir!” replied Tom, as another shot passed over the
forward-deck, so that the “wind” could be felt in the pilot-house.
Just then, Tom was called to assist in working one of the quarter-guns,
and Jack was left alone at the wheel. The pilot kept well back behind
the iron plates which shielded the helmsman.
“Hard-a-starboard!” said the pilot.
“You don’t see where you are going, sir!” replied Jack.
The sun, which had been behind a cloud, at this moment came out, and
the helmsman could distinctly see the bottom on the bow of the Middy.
There was not four feet of water in the direction the pilot had ordered
him to steer.
“Hard-a-starboard!” repeated the pilot sharply. “Do you think I don’t
know this river better than you do?”
“But look, sir! I can see the bottom!”
At this moment, the thirty-two-pounder sent another shell into the
thicket, the noise of which seemed to startle Lunsley, and he crouched
back into his former position. He had risen with the intention of
taking the wheel from the hands of the refractory quartermaster. Three
or four more shots from the shore passed near the Middy: but she was
still untouched; for her motion prevented the rebel gunners from
obtaining the correct range.
“Hard-a-starboard the helm!” shouted Lunsley again, when he had quieted
his nerves.
This time he did not wait for Jack to execute the order, but rose,
and seized the spokes of the wheel, rolling it over in the direction
indicated.
“Better mind what I say!” growled he with a volley of oaths, which made
Jack’s blood run cold.
“There’s no water there!” exclaimed Tom, glancing over the port-bow at
the long shoal, which could be distinctly seen.
At the same time, mustering all the strength and nerve of his slender
frame, he heaved the wheel over to port again, and thus prevented the
Middy from grounding while under the fire of the enemy’s guns.
“Let go that wheel, you villain!” cried the pilot, attempting to grasp
him by the throat.
“What’s the matter here?” demanded Captain Bankhead, opening the door
of the pilot-house.
“This man is a traitor! He’s trying to get the boat aground!” replied
Jack with energy.
“He lies!”
“Mind your helm, Somers!” said Captain Bankhead, unable to comprehend
the merits of the question.
“Shall I put her hard-a-starboard as he orders me?” asked Jack. “You
can see the bottom there, sir.”
The captain glanced over the port-bow, and was satisfied that the
quartermaster had spoken the truth.
“Steady!” said he.
“Steady, sir!” repeated Jack; which is the order when the helm is to be
kept as it is.
He looked at Lunsley, as he spoke, with a triumphant expression upon
his face. The pilot’s face was as dark as a thunder-cloud. The captain
stepped out, apparently satisfied that he could trust Jack, though he
did not know anything about the river, better than the pilot, who knew
all about it.
He had scarcely closed the door after he had withdrawn, when Lunsley
sprang to the wheel again, and made a vigorous effort to throw it over
as he had directed the wheelman to do. Jack braced his feet against
the spokes underneath, and for a moment prevented the scoundrel from
accomplishing his purpose. But the pilot was a powerful man, and Jack
found himself defeated in his attempt by main strength to prevent the
Middy from being thrown ashore. He did not give up the ship: and this
was precisely what it would have amounted to, if she had got aground
there; for the rebels could have knocked her to pieces in five minutes
if she would only “hold still” long enough.
When he found he was not a match in physical strength for the burly
pilot, he had the presence of mind to strike two bells, followed by
three; which were the signals respectively to stop and back her.
The traitor, finding the steamer was receding from the shoal sprang
forward towards the bell-pulls. There was a heavy hard-wood stick in
the wheel-house, which had been used to pry up the iron screens into
position. Jack grasped this weapon; and, as the pilot placed his hand
upon the pull, he struck him a heavy blow upon the back of the head,
which felled him to the deck.
Jack then rang two bells,--stop her; one bell,--ahead slow; four
bells,--ahead, full speed.