ON THE SUWANNEE RIVER.
The superiority of the Middy’s metal over that of the fort was soon
manifest, not only to those on board the steamer, but to the occupants
of the works; and the latter displayed their appreciation of the fact
by running away. This important part of the enterprise being disposed
of, the gunboat proceeded up the river. On her passage, she was
continually assailed by riflemen on the banks of the river; but the
bullets struck harmlessly upon the iron screens which protected the
wheel-house and the gun-crews.
Clem performed his share of the work to the admiration of the officers.
Safely ensconced behind the iron plates of his quarters, he shouted
with delight when the rifle-balls struck the screens.
“Golly! dis jes like a skeeter-bar!” cried he with his long chattering
laugh. “You hears de skeeters buzz on de outside: but dey can’t come
in, nohow; no, sar! Yah, yah, yah!”
“Shut your mouth, blackee, afore anyone falls into it,” added Tom
Longstone.
“Yah, yah, yah!” added Clem, peering through the sight-holes in the
front screens. “Dar’s de steamers!”
“I see them,” said Jack. “There are hundreds of people on shore.”
Just then, a shot from the thirty-two-pounder fell near them, and
they fled. At the same time, the quarter-guns opened with canister;
and not a human being could be seen in any direction. Captain McBride
was afraid that the rebels would set fire to the steamers when their
capture became inevitable, especially as the Middy could not run up
into the shallow water, where they were moored to the shore.
Mr. Dickey was ordered to get out the first cutter, and, with a strong
force, proceed to the steamers; the Middy all the time playing upon
the shore with grape and canister to keep the rebels at a respectful
distance. Jack Somers asked permission to go in the boat; and, as Mr.
Dickey knew the value of his services, his request was readily granted.
The boat dashed in under the stern of the nearest steamer; but the
painter had scarcely been made fast before a volley of rifle-balls was
discharged into the midst of the crew by a gang of rebels concealed
among the cotton-bales.
“I am wounded!” groaned Mr. Dickey, sinking back in the stern-sheets
of the boat, just as he had risen to board the steamer. “Lead on,
Somers; don’t mind me!” added the intrepid young officer as the seamen
hesitated.
“Come on, boys! come on!” shouted Jack, leaping on board the
cotton-boat.
“Ay, ay!” added the men with a cheer as they followed our hero.
The rebels who had fired the volley had formed a case-mate among the
cotton-bales, at the stern of the steamer. As soon as Jack discovered
the position of the enemy, he ordered the cockswain of the first cutter
to cast off, and pull away from his exposed situation. The order was
obeyed, the four men in the boat moving her up under the lee of the
steamer’s paddles. One man had been killed, and one wounded, besides
the first-lieutenant.
Jack had fourteen men with him; and of course he lost no time in
placing them out of the reach of the rebel riflemen at the stern of the
boat. As the guns of the Middy protected his party from assault in the
direction of the shore, our hero was in no haste to finish the affair.
He took time to consider the best means of driving the enemy from their
lair without the loss of any of his men.
Climbing up to the top of the mass of cotton-bales, he soon found a way
to their stronghold, which was open at the top. But it was not safe to
approach the den; for the rebels were ready to fire the moment they
discovered a blue-jacket.
“Bear a hand here, my lads!” said Jack in a low tone, when a happy
thought took possession of his mind. “Roll up this bale!”
“Ay, ay!” replied the men promptly, as they saw at a glance what Jack
intended to do. “Now she rises!”
The bale did rise, was rolled over two or three times, and then tumbled
down into the lair of the rebels. From the groans and the oaths that
followed this novel assault, it was plain that some of the boat’s
defenders had been crushed under the bale.
“Up with another!” shouted Jack.
“Ay, ay, Somers! Here she goes!”
But the rebels did not wait for another. They leaped from their
dangerous quarters, and fled to the shore,--those who were able to do
so. An examination of the den showed that two of the rebels had been
badly injured by the fall of the bale. As the seamen were all on the
top of the pile, they were unable to prevent the escape of the others,
if they had been disposed to do so.
Not another rebel could be found, after a diligent search in every
part of the steamer; and the victory was complete. The fasts were cast
off; and, while a dozen men pushed her off from the landing-place with
poles, Jack, with the rest of the men, pulled off to the Middy with
the wounded officer and seamen. Mr. Dickey was evidently very badly
injured,--a bullet having passed through his side. He was faint, and
appeared to be rapidly sinking.
“Somers again!” said he with a gentle smile, in recognition of the
service which Jack had rendered.
“How do you feel, sir?”
“Very bad: there is a hole in my side big enough for an alligator to
crawl in,” he replied languidly.
Jack could not smile at this conceit, for Mr. Dickey looked as though
he was dying.
“I ought to have taken you on board before, sir.”
“No, Somers: you did just right, and just what I ordered you to do.”
The cutter came alongside the Middy, and the wounded officer was
tenderly conveyed to the cabin, where the surgeon proceeded to examine
his wound. Before his decision could be reached, the captain ordered
off the cutter to secure the other steamer. It was fully manned again,
and placed in charge of Mr. Scott, the master’s mate, and the only
remaining officer who was available for this duty. Captain McBride
would willingly have given Jack the command of this expedition; but it
was hardly in order to send a petty-officer upon such duty.
As the boat pulled over to the steamer, Jack informed Mr. Scott of
the manner in which the first steamer had been defended: so that
officer was prepared for an ambush. But all doubts on this point were
soon settled by the discovery of a broad sheet of flame rising from
the steamer’s forecastle. The rebels, who were concealed in various
hiding-places near the landing, had improved the opportunity while the
boat returned to the Middy, and set her on fire.
The first cutter dashed up to the cotton-boat, and her crew leaped on
board. The fire had made but little progress. By rolling a few of the
bales overboard, and a diligent use of the buckets, the flames were
extinguished. During these operations, an occasional shot had been
fired by the rebels from their concealment in the storehouses on the
shore; but the distance was too great for effective firing, and no one
had been hit.
Mr. Scott, while the cutter was coming off, expressed his astonishment
that the enemy had not burned the boats on the appearance of the Middy;
but it seemed, from the plan they had adopted to defend them, that they
were confident of beating off the steamer’s boats. A further reason
was now manifest to the party, consisting of a company of artillery,
having four guns, which now appeared on the shore, dashing down to the
landing-place at the utmost speed of the horses.
“We must abandon her!” exclaimed Mr. Scott when this new array of force
was discovered.
“I hope not, sir!” replied Jack. “We can tow her off with the boat, or
carry a long line to the Middy.”
“Cast off the fasts, Somers!” shouted Mr. Scott in an excited tone.
“Pass that hawser into the boat! Lively, my men!”
Jack rushed forward to let go the steamer’s fasts. The rebel company
were wheeling their guns into position, and there was yet imminent
danger. Our sailor-boy, foreseeing that the long hawser would be
necessary in hauling off the steamer, considered it necessary to cast
off the end on shore so as to save the line. For this purpose he sprang
over the gang-plank, and had unfastened the rope, when a bullet from
the rifle of one of the concealed rebels passed through the fleshy part
of his left thigh. He dropped upon the ground, just as the steamer
began to recede from the land.
All the boat-party were in the cutter or in the after-part of the
steamer, so that the catastrophe which had overtaken him was not
discovered till it was too late to remedy it. Jack, with admirable
presence of mind, tied his handkerchief tightly around his leg. He
rose, and attempted to walk down to the water; but he found himself
unable to do so.
By this time, the artillery company had unlimbered their pieces, and
were pouring a steady fire into the Middy and the first cutter; to
which she was replying with shell from her thirty-two, and canister
from one of the twenty-fours. Mr. Scott was still on board of the
steamer, with a portion of the men. He had attached the hawser which
Jack had saved to the tow-line, so that the Middy soon had both her
prizes in hand; with which, having accomplished the work for which she
had come, she steamed down the river.
Jack had crawled a short distance from the landing-place to shelter
himself from the fire of the Middy’s guns; but, as soon as the action
ceased, he was waited upon by at least fifty rebels. They were not
in the best humor imaginable, and not disposed to treat the wounded
quartermaster with the kindness due to a brave but unfortunate enemy.
He was taken to a shed, and laid upon some cotton-bales. A doctor who
was present dressed his wound, and declared that he would be fit to be
hung in a week; which was certainly very consoling to the sufferer.
While he lay there surrounded by a knot of rebels, he had an
opportunity to learn their opinions. They were vexed, disappointed,
and angry, and bestowed unmeasured abuse upon the artillery company
for not coming sooner. This battery had been in the vicinity of the
Keys to guard that place from a boat-attack, which was expected. On the
appearance of the Middy on the preceding night, it had been sent for,
and had been momentarily expected during the forenoon. This was the
principal reason why the steamers had not been burned.
Jack Somers found himself to be an object of great curiosity. He was
visited by all the men, women and children in the place, all of whom
were anxious to look upon one of the “terrible Yankees.” The sufferer
was not a very dangerous-looking person, especially in his present
exhausted condition; and those who came to scoff at him found their
admiration and sympathy excited rather than their hatred. He was pale,
but he was handsome; and the ladies expressed their surprise that such
a pretty boy should be a “horrid Yank.”
Among those who came were Major Sandford, a rich planter residing near
the landing, and his wife and daughter. The latter, a girl of fifteen,
was touched to the heart by the sad, pale face of Jack. She thought it
was a terrible thing for such a nice-looking young man to lie wounded
and suffering upon a heap of cotton-bales.
“What is your name, poor fellow?” said she.
“John Somers, miss,” answered Jack.
“What did you come down here to kill our people for?” added she.
“Because they are rebels and traitors!” replied he faintly.
We don’t know whether Miss Edith Sandford liked this answer or not; but
she protested with all her might against the little Yankee’s lying on
cotton-bales, where he was, in such a dreadful condition. She insisted
that her father should take him home, and treat him like a human being.
She was an only daughter; and, though Major Sandford had a great many
objections, he finally consented, and Jack was paroled for this purpose.
He was conveyed in a wagon to the house of the planter; a good room was
provided for him, and Edith saw that he was tenderly nursed. At the
expiration of a fortnight, he was able to walk out.
“I wish you wasn’t a Yankee,” said Edith one day, as they walked in
front of the mansion.
“I wish you wasn’t a rebel,” replied Jack.
“I’m not a rebel, any more than you are!” exclaimed she, with a very
pretty pout upon her interesting countenance.
“We won’t talk politics then,” laughed Jack. “I suppose my time here is
about out, and I must soon be sent to a rebel prison.”
“To prison? Oh, no! they won’t send a nice young man like you to
prison.”
“But they will, Miss Edith.”
“Why don’t you run off, then?”
“I would not break my parole.”
“I thought a Yankee would do anything that is mean.”
“I think not.”
It was plain that Edith was much interested in Jack; and she was not
the first young lady who had been moved in the same direction: not
that she indulged in “moonshine” at his expense; but she pitied him.
She wept when the captain of the artillery company insisted that his
prisoner should be sent off; for he did not believe in treating Yankees
like gentlemen. No reasonable excuse could be offered for resisting
this claim; and Jack, after giving up his parole, was taken into
custody. He was sent to a barrack a few miles farther inland, where
three others, captured from a boat-expedition at Cedar Keys, were
confined. They were to remain here till an opportunity offered to send
them to a prison-camp.
Jack decided not to wait for this opportunity; but one night he made
his way through the roof of the barrack, and, under the guidance of a
negro who was panting for the “day of jubilee,” reached the coast, near
the mouth of the Suwannee. After starving, and suffering from cold and
storms, for a week, they found a dug-out, with which they pulled off to
the Middy.
“Somers again!” said Mr. Dickey, as he climbed over the bulwark.
Mr. Dickey was not dead, and gave him a warm hand as he stepped upon
deck.
“My darling!” cried Tom Longstone. “I was sure you was dead!”
“Not yet, Tom. I was wounded; but I am pretty well now.”
Jack had been absent four weeks, and had suffered a great deal during
the last part of this time; but it was worth while to endure a
great deal for such a welcome as was extended to him by officers and
crew. After he had taken his supper, he told his story, and listened
to a narrative of the events which had taken place on board during
his absence. The cotton-steamers had been sent to Key West, and the
officers and men who went in them had just returned. Mr. Dickey had
been very low, and was not expected to live for a week. He was now able
only to walk about the deck. Clem had taken the Middy through every
conceivable channel where there was water enough to float her, and was
still a favorite on board.
“Now, Somers, if you have finished your yarn, I want to see you,” said
Captain McBride at a later hour in the evening. “Here is your warrant
as a midshipman; and you are ordered to the Naval Academy, after a
thirty-days’ leave of absence. Here is a letter from Captain Bankhead.”
“Thank you, sir!” exclaimed Jack as he took the papers.
“A supply-steamer will be along in a few days, and you will leave in
her,” added the captain.
Jack was bewildered by this intelligence, for the prospect of seeing
Pinchbrook in a few days, and embracing his mother, shaking hands with
his father, and spinning yarns to the rest of the folks, was very
delightful. The two days he remained on board the Middy, he spent with
Tom in the wheel-house. The veteran could hardly reconcile himself to
part with his young friend; but, as it was for Jack’s advancement, he
put a cheerful face upon the matter.
The supply-steamer arrived; and Jack, after thanking the captain for
his kindness and shaking hands with officers and crew, went on board
and thus ended the career of Jack Somers in the navy as an ordinary
seaman.