A VERY MELANCHOLY CONFEDERATE
Notwithstanding his military title, Colonel Homer Passford was not a
soldier, though he had once been a sort of honorary head of a regiment
of militia. His brother, Captain Horatio Passford, Christy's father, was
a millionaire in the tenth degree. More than twenty years before the war
he had assisted Homer to all the money he required to buy a plantation
in Alabama, near Mobile, where he had prospered exceedingly, though his
possessions had never been a tenth part of those of his wealthy brother.
Homer had married in the South, and was the father of a son and
daughter, now approaching their maturity, and Corny, the son, was a
soldier in the Confederate army. The most affectionate relations had
always subsisted between the two families; and before the war the
Bellevite had always visited Glenfield, the plantation of the colonel,
at least twice a year.
Florry Passford, the captain's daughter, being somewhat out of health,
had passed the winter before the beginning of the war at Glenfield, and
was there when the enemy's guns opened upon Fort Sumter. Captain
Passford had not supposed that his brother in Alabama would take part
with the South in the Rebellion, and with great difficulty and risk he
had gone to Glenfield in the Bellevite, for the purpose of conveying his
daughter to his home at Bonnydale on the Hudson, not doubting that Homer
and his family would be his passengers on the return to the North.
He was entirely mistaken in regard to the political sentiments of the
colonel, and found that he was one of the most devoted and determined
advocates of the Southern cause. The southern brother did not conceal
his opinions, and it was plain enough to the captain that he was
entirely sincere, and believed with all his mind, heart, and soul, that
it was his religious, moral, and social duty to espouse what he called
his country's cause; and he had done so with all his influence and his
fortune. He had even gone so far in his devotion to his duty as he
understood it, as to attempt to hand over the Bellevite, though she was
not in Mobile Bay on a warlike mission, to the new government of the
South, and had taken part personally in an expedition extended to
capture her.
The steam-yacht had been armed at the Bermudas, and fought her way out
of the bay; and on her return to New York her owner presented her to the
Government of the United States. She had done good service, and Christy
had begun his brilliant career as a naval officer in the capacity of a
midshipman on board of her. In spite of the hostile political attitude
of the brothers to each other, the same affectionate relations had
continued between the two families, for each of them believed that
social and family ties should not interfere with his patriotic duty to
his country.
The commander of the Confederate forces at Hilton Head--one of the
highest-toned and most estimable gentlemen one could find in the North
or the South--informed the author that his own brother was in command of
one of the Federal ships that were bombarding his works. While Commodore
Wilkes, of Mason and Slidell memory, was capturing the Southern
representatives who had to be given up, his son was in the Confederate
navy, and then or later was casting guns at Charlotte for the use of
the South: and the writer never met a more reasonable and kindly man.
Fortunately our two brothers were not called upon to confront each other
as foes on the battlefield or on the sea, though both of them would have
done their duty in such positions.
The last time Christy had seen his Uncle Homer was when he was captured
on board of the Dornoch with Captain Rombold, as he was endeavoring to
obtain a passage to England as a Confederate agent for the purchase of
suitable vessels to prey upon the mercantile marine of the United
States. He and the commander of the Tallahatchie had been exchanged
at about the same time; and they had proceeded to Nassau, where they
embarked for England in a cotton steamer. There they had purchased
and fitted out the Trafalgar; for the agent's drafts, in which the last
of his fortune had been absorbed, could not be made available to his
captors. Colonel Passford had an interview with Captain Rombold after
Gill had brought his trunk on board; and it was a very sad occasion
to the planter, if not to the naval officer. They had not had an
opportunity to consider the disaster that had overtaken the Confederate
steamer, which had promised such favorable results for their cause; for
the commander had been entirely occupied till he received his wound, and
even then he had attended to his duties, for, as before suggested, he
was a "last ditch" man. He was not fighting for the South as a mere
hireling; for he had married a Southern wife, and she had enlisted all
his sympathies in the cause of her people.
"I suppose we have nothing more to hope for, Captain Rombold; and we
can only put our trust in the All-Wise and the All-Powerful, who never
forsakes his children when they are fighting for right and justice,"
said Colonel Passford, after he had condoled with the commander on his
wounded condition.
"We shall come out all right in the end, Colonel; don't be so cast
down," replied the captain.
"I raised the money by mortgaging my plantation and what other
property I had left for all the money I could get upon it to a wealthy
Englishman, the one who came to Mobile with us from Nassau, to obtain
the cargoes for this steamer. I had borrowed all I could before that for
the purchase of the Trafalgar; and if the current does not change in our
favor soon, I shall be a beggar," added the colonel bitterly.
"The tide will turn, my good friend; and it would have turned before now
if all the planters had been as self-sacrificing as you have," said the
captain.
"Cotton and gold are about the same thing just now; and with the
large cargo on board of the West Wind, which I induced my friends to
contribute to the good cause, and that in the hold of the Tallahatchie,
I was confident that I could purchase the Kilmarnock, which you say is
good for eighteen knots an hour. Now the West Wind and the Tallahatchie
are both prizes of the enemy, and there is no present hope for us,"
continued the colonel; and there was no wonder that he had become pale
and thin.
"We are in a bad situation, Colonel Passford, I admit, for both of us
are prisoners of war, so that we can do nothing, even if we had the
means; but everything will come out right in the end," replied the
wounded officer, though he could not explain in what manner this result
was to be achieved.
"Well, Captain Rombold, how are you feeling?" asked Dr. Linscott,
darkening the door when the conversation had reached this gloomy point.
"Very comfortable, Doctor," replied the commander. "My friend is Colonel
Passford."
"Bless me!" exclaimed the surgeon, as he extended his hand to the
visitor. "I am very glad to see you, and I hope you are very well. I am
happy to inform you that your nephew, who was wounded in the engagement,
is doing very well."
"Yes; I met him on deck," replied the planter very gloomily.
"What is the matter, Colonel Passford? You look quite pale, and you have
lost flesh since I met you last. Can I do anything for you?"
"Nothing, Doctor; I am not very well, though nothing in particular
ails me. With your permission I will retire to my stateroom," said the
colonel, as he rose from his seat.
"By the way, Colonel Passford, the captain wished me to ascertain if you
have been to breakfast," added the surgeon, following him out into the
cabin.
"I have not, Doctor; but it was because I wanted none, for I do not feel
like eating," replied the pale planter.
"Punch, go to the galley, get a beefsteak, a plate of toast, and a cup
of coffee. Set out the captain's table, and call this gentleman when it
is ready."
"Yes, sir," replied Punch, who was a very genteel colored person.
The colonel attempted to protest, but the surgeon would not hear him.
He remained with the planter, whom he already regarded as a patient, and
though he could not say anything to comfort him, he talked him into a
pleasanter frame of mind. Punch set the table, and in due time brought
the breakfast. The doctor sat down opposite to him at the table, and
actually compelled him to eat a tolerably hearty meal. He was decidedly
less gloomy when he had finished, and it was plain to his companion that
his empty stomach was responsible for a portion of his depression of
spirits.
The surgeon had remained on board of the prize till the order to get
under way was given, and then Captain Breaker sent for him; but the
two medical gentlemen had disposed of most of the wounds among the
Confederate crew. As the English engineer had reported, the machinery
and boilers of the Tallahatchie were in good condition, and the two
steamers went on their course towards the entrance to Mobile Bay, where
French had been ordered to anchor the West Wind, at full speed, though
neither was driven; but the log showed that they were making about
eighteen knots.
After the brief talk with his uncle, Christy had waited for him to
return to the deck, as he supposed he would after what the captain had
said to him; but he did not appear. In fact, Colonel Passford was too
much cast down by the capture of the two vessels, and the loss of his
fortune thereby, that he was not disposed to see any person if he could
avoid it.
"Don't you think you had better turn in, Mr. Passford?" asked the
commander, as he halted in his walk at the side of the lieutenant.
"I have been waiting here to see my uncle; for I thought, after what you
said to him, that he would come back," added Christy.
"I sent Dr. Linscott down to see him, for he looks so pale and feeble
that I thought he must be sick. The surgeon reported to me half an hour
ago that he had made him eat his breakfast against his will, and he was
feeling better and more cheerful. He thinks your Uncle Homer's trouble
is entirely mental, and he does not feel like seeing any person,"
answered the commander.
"What mental trouble can he have?" asked Christy, as he gazed into the
face of the captain, wondering if his father's brother was insane.
"The colonel has shipped a vast amount of cotton intending to use the
proceeds of its sale to purchase ships for the Confederacy; and he has
lost most of them, for you captured quite a number of them when you
were in command of the Bronx. I have no doubt he was interested in the
cargoes of the prize and the West Wind; and the capture of these two
vessels involves a fearful loss. I believe that is all that ails him,"
the captain explained. "Doubtless he feels as kindly towards his nephew
as ever before in his life; but he does not care to see him just now."
Early in the afternoon the Bellevite and her prize came in sight of the
West Wind, anchored in accordance with French's orders, with the Holyoke
almost within hail of her; for the captain of the steamer had doubtless
considered the possibility of a recapture of the schooner by boats from
the shore, if she was left unprotected.
In due time the Bellevite let go her anchor at about a cable's length
from the West Wind, and the prize-master of the Tallahatchie had done
the same at an equal distance from the ship. Mr. Graines, who had not
met his late associate on shore since he was wounded, came to his side
as soon as the steamer had anchored; for both Christy and he were
anxious to hear the report of French in regard to the prisoners left in
his care.
The anchor of the Bellevite had hardly caught in the sand before a boat
put off from the West Wind containing four persons. Two of the ship's
seamen were at the oars, French was in the stern sheets, and the
engineer soon recognized Captain Sullendine as the fourth person.