JACK ASHORE.
The roar of the guns, and the busy scenes in every part of the steamer,
had prevented anyone from noticing the affair which had just transpired
in the wheel-house. The Middy was completely enveloped in the smoke of
her own guns; and, though Captain Bankhead was on the hurricane-deck,
he had no knowledge of the important event which had saved his vessel
from destruction. The stopping, backing, and going ahead again, had
been noticed, of course; but they were supposed to have been occasioned
by some difficulty in the navigation.
The battery which had opened upon the Middy was situated upon a point
of land at a bend in the river, and on the port-hand. Near the land,
there was a broad shoal; for the current, in turning this curve,
would, by its natural law, sweep round to the opposite shore. As soon,
therefore, as Jack found himself his own master in the wheel-house, he
put the helm well a-port, and kept the steamer away from the dangerous
ground.
Captain Bankhead, who was directing the action on deck, had passed the
word for Tom Longstone as soon as he was conscious of any treachery on
the part of Lunsley. Before Tom came up from below, he again opened the
door of the wheel-house, where he discovered the prostrate form of the
traitor.
“What’s this, Somers?” demanded Captain Bankhead.
“He is a traitor, sir! He tried to take the wheel out of my hands, and
throw the steamer on that shoal!” replied Jack in high excitement. “I
knocked him down with this club, and kept her off.”
“Good Heaven!” exclaimed the captain, who could not but be impressed by
the danger he had just escaped. “You have done well, Jack. Here comes
Longstone. Keep her off short a few minutes longer, and we shall be
clear of the battery.”
“Ay, ay, sir. There is water enough for us anywhere on the starboard
hand. We are all right now, sir.”
“Keep her steady, Jack, and be very careful. Don’t stop her again if
you can help it.”
“I will not, sir.”
“Here, Longstone: roll this traitor out of the wheel-house, and then
stand by with Somers.”
“Ay, ay, sir;” and Tom pitched the carcass of the pilot out of the
wheel-house, very much as though it had been the body of a dead dog.
“What’s the matter, my darling?” asked Tom as he joined Jack at the
wheel.
“Nothing particular, Tom. I’ll tell you all about it, by and by,”
replied Jack, still keeping his eyes fixed upon the water ahead.
The clouds of smoke obstructed his vision; but he made the most of the
brief intervals when the wind opened a clear space for him. He felt
that the safety of the Middy depended as much upon him as upon the
captain; for, if she got aground, it would insure her destruction in
a very few moments. The rebels were improving in their practice, and
two or three shots had struck the steamer. One had passed through the
cabin on the main-deck; and another had ploughed up several feet of the
hurricane-deck, abaft the smoke-stack.
The Middy soon passed the most dangerous point, and the guns of the
rebels had begun to fall short of the mark. Only the port quarter-gun
of the steamer could be brought to bear upon the battery; and the
action seemed to be over, unless Captain Bankhead chose to renew it.
“Where is the pilot?” asked the captain, opening the door of the
wheel-house.
“I dunno, sir: I pitched him out on the hurricane-deck,” replied Tom,
stepping out to look for his victim.
“He is not here now.”
“I dropped him down there,” added Tom, pointing to the place where he
had deposited the senseless form of the pilot.
“We must find him before he has a chance to do any further mischief.”
The captain and quartermaster walked aft to ascertain what had become
of Lunsley, who had evidently come to his senses, and taken himself
off. He was not on the hurricane-deck; and they were about to descend
to the main-deck, when the pilot’s canoe, which had been towing
astern, was discovered some distance down the river, pulling towards
the battery. The villain, who had in some measure recovered from
the effects of Jack’s blow, had crept down from the hurricane-deck
during the excitement of the action, and taken to his canoe. A
twenty-four-pound shot from one of the quarter-guns was sent after him;
but the object was so small, and the distance so great, that the gunner
failed to hit it.
The Middy was then put about, so as to bring the thirty-two-pounder
to bear upon the battery, and again opened fire upon the rebels; for
Captain Bankhead expressed his purpose to clean out the enemy from
their position. As the battery did not reply, she was moved up nearer,
so that one of the twenty-four-pounders could also command the spot.
After firing for half an hour without eliciting any response from the
rebels, the Middy went down the river again, and placed herself in
different positions to tempt the enemy to renew the action; but the
battery was still silent.
The quarter-boat on the starboard side was then cleared away; and Mr.
Hayswell, the first-lieutenant, was ordered on shore to examine the
position.
“Somers, you will go in the boat. Mr. Hayswell may want such a person
as you are to assist him,” said Captain Bankhead.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Take a pistol and cutlass with you, and don’t be reckless.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
The boat contained twelve men besides the officer, and pulled to the
nearest point of land, just below the battery, where it could be
covered in case of necessity by the guns of the steamer. Mr. Hayswell
with eight of the men landed, and cautiously made their way up to the
battery. They found a rude earthwork; but there was not a gun to be
seen: and it was evident that the fort had been manned by a battery of
light-artillery, which had decamped when the fire became too warm for
the gunners.
A short distance from the thicket in which the gunners had been
concealed, there was the mansion-house of a plantation, with its
village of negro-huts in the vicinity. It was important to know in what
direction the battery had gone; for Mr. Hayswell concluded that it
had gone farther up the river, to open upon the steamer from another
position. The party, therefore, advanced towards the mansion, but with
the utmost care, to avoid falling into an ambush or any other trap
which the rebels might have set for them.
“Bress de Lord, massa! De jubilee am come!” shouted a negro, stepping
out from a cabin as the party approached the negro-huts.
Mr. Hayswell at once proceeded to question the negro in regard to the
battery which had occupied the earthwork. The man was very willing to
give any information in his power; but unfortunately he knew nothing,
except that the rebels had taken the road which he pointed out. It was
a cross-road leading from the main highway; and the battery might
have gone up or down the river,--he could not tell which. Mr. Hayswell
then decided to visit the mansion-house, leaving the negro very much
depressed in spirits because “de jubilee” had not yet come, and five
hundred slaves were not to be carried off by the little Middy.
The people at the mansion-house were very uncommunicative. They did not
know where the battery had gone; did not know there was any battery;
had heard firing, but did not know what it meant; thought it best not
to interfere with matters that did not concern them. Mr. Hayswell did
not deem it prudent to continue his investigation any farther, and left
the house. He had scarcely stepped off the veranda before a dense smoke
was discovered some distance up the river. The cotton-burners, alarmed
at the approach of the Union force, had probably set fire to a pile
of the precious commodity. The smoke indicated in what direction the
battery had gone; and Mr. Hayswell decided to reconnoitre that way: for
it was the military force of the Confederacy which destroyed cotton;
and there could be hardly a doubt that the party which had fired upon
the Middy was the same that performed this work of destruction.
The boat-crew had advanced but a short distance before the lieutenant
was startled by the roar of artillery in the direction of the
earthwork, near the spot where he had landed. It did not proceed from
the Middy’s thirty-two-pounder.
“What does that mean?” said Mr. Hayswell as the party halted.
“I think the battery of artillery has got back to its old position,
sir,” replied Jack, who was the person addressed.
“If it has, we are in a bad situation.”
“I’m afraid we are, sir!” added Jack, who wanted to ask Mr. Hayswell
why he had wandered so far from his boat, since it did not make much
difference where the battery had gone: but he was too well trained to
ask an impertinent question.
“We must get back, if we can,” added Mr. Hayswell, who seemed to be
very much perplexed at the difficulty of his situation, as well he
might have been.
He led his party down to the shore of the river, which Jack thought was
the stupidest thing he could possibly do; for the earthwork was now
between them and the boat. The Middy could not even be seen around the
bend of the river. At last, when the situation seemed to be utterly
hopeless, Jack ventured to suggest that they might pass round the
battery, and reach the boat below, or at least escape capture till the
Middy had time to shell out the rebels a second time.
Mr. Hayswell adopted the suggestion; and the party succeeded, with the
help of the negro who was waiting for the jubilee, in making their
way as far as the cross-road, which led from the principal highway to
a landing-place on the river. While the boat-expedition were looking
for the cotton-burners half a mile above, the rebel artillery company
had returned by this road to their original position. Of course the
enemy had a motive in leaving the earthwork, and a motive in returning
to it. The subject was rather dark to Mr. Hayswell; but the fact was
undeniable.
Meanwhile, the shells from the Middy were dropping into the earthwork,
and doing terrible execution among the rebels. About the time our
party reached the road, they had got about enough of it, and were on
the point of retiring again, probably satisfied that they had “waked
up the wrong customer” when they attacked the little Middy. Now, it
was very unfortunate for our people on shore that this result had
been reached at this particular moment; for the retreating graybacks
instantly discovered the blue-jackets, and, with a whoop and a yell,
dashed forward for the purpose of capturing them.
Resistance was useless; and Mr. Hayswell ordered the men to run for
their lives; of which permission they promptly availed themselves. Most
of them attempted to make a sweep round the road, and reach the boats,
where the rebels followed them. Jack prudently retreated in another
direction; and, reaching a gin-house, crawled in, and stowed himself
away among the machinery.
The guns of the Middy still played a lively tune, and Jack was in
hope that his companions had escaped. He remained in his concealment
until he thought the rebels must have retired, and then crept out. No
firing had been heard for some time; and he stealthily moved towards
the river, confident that his progress would not be interrupted.
But this was a day of mistakes; and our hero soon found that he had
miscalculated his chances. The rebels had ceased firing, because their
twelve-pounders only drew the steamer’s fire, which they found too much
for them, without injuring her.
While he was slowly and cautiously making his way toward the river, he
was suddenly and very unexpectedly accosted by a couple of graybacks.
“Halt!” said one of them, stepping in front of our sailor-boy.
Jack did halt: he could not well help halting, unless he concluded to
step over the rebels in his path. They had been concealed behind a
mound of earth, and were either watching for him, or observing the
movements of the Middy.
“Lay down your arms!” added the rebel speaker, elevating a musket, and
taking aim at him.
Perhaps Jack was reckless; on the whole, we rather think he was: for,
instead of obeying the order, he drew his revolver, and fired at the
soldier who addressed him. Of course, the grayback discharged his
musket; and Jack felt something on his left shoulder very much like
a saw drawn along the skin. But he was not killed,--he was sure of
this,--and immediately fired another barrel of the revolver, which
caused the assiduous rebel to drop. Yet Jack was sure he was not
killed; for he heard him swear after he fell.
There was no time just then to balance probabilities: and our
blue-jacket, concluding that the rebels were in force at the earthwork,
decided to change his base; which is always considered a very difficult
operation in the midst of an engagement. In the present instance, it
consisted only of wheeling about, and running away in the opposite
direction; which has often been the sum and substance of the same
manœuvre when conducted on a larger scale.
Jack ran till he came to the mansion, being chased by the uninjured
rebel of the couple. He dodged several times, and at last threw his
pursuer off the track. As he doubled up under the lee of the big house,
he saw a cellar-door open; through which, as the place looked inviting,
he entered without asking permission.