THE UNION REFUGEES.
A four-hours’ nap renovated Jack’s exhausted frame; and he was ready to
take another job of piloting, if one had presented. Towards evening,
Captain Bankhead visited the prize; and one of the boat’s crew handed
Jack a letter from home. It was a joyous missive; for it contained the
intelligence of his father’s escape from the rebels, and his return to
Pinchbrook. On the last page were a few lines written in the well-known
heavy hand of Captain Somers, in which he encouraged his son to do his
duty to the country faithfully, and to stand by the old flag to the
last. The old gentleman declared his intention of going into the navy
in some capacity, as soon as he had recovered from the effects of his
campaign in Virginia.
The letter also contained tidings from “Tom Somers in the Army,” who
had been promoted to the rank of sergeant for meritorious conduct. The
people of Pinchbrook were all well, and everything was in a prosperous
condition at the cottage.
“All right!” said Jack, as he folded up the letter, and put it in his
pocket, to be read over and over again. “They shall hear from _me_ one
of these days. Well, God bless the old gentleman! He is one of the
right sort, and ought to have the command of one of these gunboats.
I suppose little Dickey, who don’t know enough to go into the house
when it rains, could get a vessel as quick again as my father, who has
tumbled about on the ocean all his lifetime.”
Mr. Dickey obtained a great deal of credit for the skilful manner in
which he had brought in the Kenshaw; and there was a strong probability
that he would be promoted for his good conduct on that occasion. The
facts in the case were not explained. Tom Longstone could not tell
the captain, that, if it had not been for Jack’s suggestions, the
whole affair must have been a failure. Mr. Gordon, the engineer, might
have said so; but he was a prudent man, and minded his own business.
Probably it was just as well that nothing of the kind was said; for
Mr. Dickey’s faults were those which age would correct. He was a good
fellow with his equals, and as brave as a lion in the presence of his
country’s foes.
The crew of the prize-steamer were sent on board the Middy on the day
after her arrival, with a fine prospect before them of pocketing a
very handsome allowance of prize-money, after the Kenshaw and her
cargo had passed through all the meshes of red-tape with which the law
surrounds a naval prize.
The little steamer was repaired and strengthened where she had been
found to be weak; and, at the expiration of a fortnight, she was
ready for another cruise. An addition was made to her crew. Mr.
Hayswell’s place was supplied by Mr. McBride, the fourth-lieutenant of
the Harrisburg; and a pilot of known loyalty was put on board. Thus
prepared, the little Middy again sailed upon a cruise up the river.
This time she attended the Harrisburg and other ships of the fleet, and
went up as far as Vicksburg. Natchez, Baton Rouge, and other cities on
the river, had surrendered, after more or less display of force.
Vicksburg proved to be “a hard nut to crack.” The batteries which
defended the city were located on high bluffs, where the guns of the
fleet were unable to reach them. The water was falling, and the larger
ships had experienced much difficulty in getting up. The Harrisburg had
been compelled to lighter her battery and coal over some of the shoals.
In the face of these difficulties, operations were suspended until a
rise of the river should favor their renewal; and the larger vessels of
the fleet returned to New Orleans or Baton Rouge.
The gunboats had command of the river, however, below Vicksburg, and
the ironclads belonging to the squadron of Commodore Porter had run the
gauntlet of the heavy batteries at that place. During the summer, the
fleet inflicted severe injury upon the rebels at various points; and
all the efforts of the latter to regain possession of the river were
unavailing. The Arkansas, which had forced a passage through the Union
fleet at Vicksburg, was destroyed, Grand Gulf bombarded, and the enemy
terribly punished at Baton Rouge.
In the midst of such events as these, Jack Somers passed the season.
The Middy was ordered to watch the banks of the river, to protect the
transports which conveyed troops and stores to the fleet and the army,
and generally to annoy the enemy as opportunity was presented. At
one time she narrowly avoided a broadside from the Arkansas; and, at
another, escaped by superior running from the Webb and Music,--the two
consorts of the rebel ironclad.
Later in the season, when the river began to rise, the Middy was
ordered to make a reconnoissance up the Red River; and she started
upon the perilous duty. This river had been the hiding-place for rebel
gunboats and cotton-steamers; and the Middy had not proceeded many
miles before she was attacked by a battery of light-artillery, which
she repulsed without difficulty, and proceeded on her way.
“I don’t think we shall make a very long trip in this direction,” said
Mr. Deane, the pilot.
“I suppose we have only come up to take a look, and find out what there
is here,” replied Jack, who was at the wheel.
“There’s a steamer round that bend,” added the pilot. “I see her
smoke-stacks.”
“There’s a chance for a prize, then. Very likely she is a rebel
gunboat,--one of the cotton-clads.”
“Well, we shall soon find out.”
He had hardly uttered the words before a shot from a concealed battery
struck the wheel-house, tearing the roof completely off, and scattering
the splinters in every direction.
“That’s a close shave,” said Jack. “Are you hurt, Mr. Deane?”
“Not at all,” replied he, shaking off the pine-wood which had fallen
upon him. “But I shouldn’t like to try it over again.”
“Two shots never go in the same place. We are safe for the rest of the
day.”
The order was given by the captain to stop and back her; but, before
the Middy could get out of range, half a dozen more shot fell
unpleasantly near to her. The guns in the fort were heavy, long-range
pieces; and it would be madness for the little steamer to attempt to go
any further. She therefore put about, and commenced her return trip.
She had proceeded but a few miles toward the Mississippi, when a white
flag was discovered on the shore, around which were gathered some forty
or fifty men. They hailed the steamer, and asked to be taken off.
The Middy’s wheels were stopped, and Captain Bankhead desired to know
who and what they were.
“We are all Union men,” replied the spokesman of the party; “and want
to get out of this region.”
“Where are you from?”
“We came from up the river. We have been robbed by the rebels of
everything we had: some of the Unionists have been murdered; and we
want to get inside the Union lines.”
“Where are your families?” demanded Captain Bankhead.
“We had to leave them; but the rebels don’t meddle with the women and
children. We haven’t had anything to eat for two days.”
The bow of the Middy was run up to the shore: but the captain seemed to
have some doubts in regard to the party; for a portion of them were
armed with guns, pistols, and other weapons. He questioned them still
further in regard to their antecedents, and finally permitted them to
come on board; taking the precaution to disarm them as they passed the
gang-plank. They were provided with food, of which they partook with
ravenous appetites.
Their clothing was in a very dilapidated condition; and their
appearance certainly confirmed their story, that they had suffered
every imaginable hardship. Many of them proposed at once to enlist in
the Union army, or enter the navy, as the captain might elect. They
professed to be very anxious to avenge the indignities to which they
had been subjected, and desired to join any force which should have for
its object the subjugation of their State.
The man who had spoken for them was an intelligent and gentlemanly
person; but the majority of the party were coarse and rude in their
manners, belonging to the lowest stratum of Western society.
“I say, Jack, my dear, I don’t like the looks of them bloody vill’ns
on the main-deck,” said Tom Longstone in a low tone when he came up to
relieve the wheel at dinner-time.
“Why not?”
“Stop my grub if I don’t believe they are rebels at heart, Jack!”
“What makes you think so?”
“I don’t like the looks of them. The sharks would dodge such a crowd!”
“They have seen hard times.”
“I don’t mind their dress, Jack; but they look ugly about the eyes.”
“Is that all you have against them?”
“No; shiver my timbers if it is. I seen ’em whispering together more’n
decent men ought to.”
Jack went down to his dinner; and, being off duty afterwards, he took
the opportunity to examine the refugees. They were certainly whispering
together; and he noticed that their spokesman frequently passed from
one squad to another about the deck. Their movements were suspicious;
and Jack very much desired to know what their head man had to say in
this confidential manner.
The refugees were congregated on the deck around the wind-sail by which
fresh air was introduced to the fire-room below the main-deck. Dunnett,
the leader, was seated near this wind-sail at that moment, talking to
a group around him; and Jack’s curiosity was so thoroughly stimulated,
that he could not resist the temptation to become one of his hearers.
Descending to the fire-room, he procured a short ladder used in oiling
the engine; and, running it up the hatch through which the wind-sail
passed, he ascended till his head was above the deck. He was now right
in the midst of the squad, and could distinctly hear every word that
was said.
“When I whistle, every man will do his share of the work,” said Dunnett
in a whisper. “Half the crew are below: put the hatch on, and keep them
there; then we can easily conquer the rest.”
Jack did not wait to hear any more. He was only afraid that the plot
would be executed before he could communicate the information to
the officers. Coming up from the fire-room, he hastened to find Mr.
McBride, who was then officer of the deck. In a few words, he informed
him of the conspiracy. The captain was then made acquainted with the
alarming facts; but not a word was yet said to any other person.
Captain Bankhead was prompt and decided. The watch on deck were ordered
to the quarter-guns in a quiet way. They had been loaded with case-shot
during the action with the light-battery. The charge of one was given
to Tom Longstone, while the other was in care of Raymond.
At the same time, a plank in the bulkhead between the forecastle--where
part of the men were at the time--and the fire-room was knocked out.
Through this opening the seamen passed into the fire-room, and thence
into the after-cabin, where they were armed with cutlasses and pistols.
They were ordered to stay behind the paddle-boxes, where they could not
be seen by the conspirators. The two quarter-guns were in readiness to
be slung round in an instant, so as to command the passage on each side
of the engine.
The preparations were all completed; but Dunnett did not yet give
his signal for the attack. The crew of the Middy were impatient for
operations to commence; and, after some further time had elapsed,
the captain began to think that Jack had been deceived, and that his
passengers were honest and loyal men.
The fact was, that Dunnett had been waiting for a better disposition
of the crew for his purpose; but, when he had waited till his patience
was exhausted as well as that of the captain, he gave the designated
whistle.
A couple of the rebels sprang to the hatch, and closed it; perfectly
confident, no doubt, that they were imprisoning at least half the
seamen of the Middy. Others rushed to the wheel-house and to the
engine-room, where, of course, they overpowered the pilot and the
engineer. Having secured these points, they formed in a body, and
moved aft. It now appeared that they were armed with bowie-knives;
but, believing they were to encounter only half their number, they
advanced with entire confidence.