Produced by Gary Sandino, from scans generously provided
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[Frontispiece: MARCY AND THE OVERSEER.]
CASTLEMON'S WAR SERIES.
MARCY
THE
BLOCKADE-RUNNER
BY
HARRY CASTLEMON,
AUTHOR OF "GUNBOAT SERIES," "ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,"
"SPORTSMAN'S CLUB SERIES," ETC., ETC.
Four Illustrations by Geo. G. White.
PHILADELPHIA:
PORTER & COATES.
Copyright, 1891,
BY
PORTER & COATES.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. MARCY HAS A VISITOR, 1
II. HIDING THE FLAGS, 26
III. BEARDSLEY BETRAYS HIMSELF, 52
IV. TWO NARROW ESCAPES, 77
V. A CAT WITHOUT CLAWS, 105
VI. RUNNING THE BLOCKADE, 125
VII. THE mate's LUCKY SHOT, 150
VIII. A NOISE AT THE WINDOW, 174
IX. THE "_SUMTER_" LOSES A PRIZE, 197
X. A COOL PROPOSITION, 219
XI. THE BANNER ON THE WALL, 241
XII. CONFLICTING REPORTS, 268
XIII. UNION OR CONFEDERATE--WHICH? 292
XIV. JULIUS IN TROUBLE, 317
XV. THE ENCHANTED LOOKING-GLASS, 339
XVI. OFF FOR THE FLEET, 362
XVII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING, 381
XVIII. CONCLUSION, 403
MARCY, THE BLOCKADE-RUNNER,
CHAPTER I.
MARCY HAS A VISITOR.
The boys who have read the first volume of this series of books, in
which we followed the fortunes of our Union hero, Marcy Gray, and
described the persevering but unsuccessful efforts he made to be true to
his colors in deed as well as in spirit, will remember that we left him
at his home near Nashville, North Carolina, enjoying a brief respite
from the work he so heartily detested, that of privateering. He had made
one voyage in the _Osprey_ under Captain Beardsley, during which he
assisted in capturing the schooner _Mary Hollins_, bound from Havana to
Boston with an assorted cargo. When the prize was brought into the port
of Newbern the whole town went wild with excitement, Captain Beardsley's
agent being so highly elated that he urged the master of the _Osprey_ to
run out at once and try his luck again, before the capture of the
_Hollins_ became known at the North. But Beardsley, who was afraid to
trust landsharks any farther than he could see them, declared with a
good deal of earnestness that he would not budge an inch until the
legality of the capture had been settled by the courts, the vessel and
cargo sold, and the dollars that belonged to him and his crew were
planked down in their two hands. Knowing that it would take time to go
through all these formalities, Marcy Gray asked for a leave of absence,
which Beardsley granted according to promise, and in less than half an
hour after the _Osprey_ was hauled alongside the wharf, her disgusted
young pilot, wishing from the bottom of his heart that she might sink
out of sight before he ever saw her again, left her and went home as
fast as the cars could take him. When we last saw him he had reached his
mother's house, and was reading a letter from his cousin, _Rodney the
Partisan_ a portion of which we gave to the reader at the close of the
first volume of this series.
"Rodney is full of enthusiasm, isn't he?" exclaimed Marcy, when he had
finished reading the letter. "He says he looks for 'high old times'
running the Yankees out of Missouri, but I am afraid he'll not enjoy
them as much as he thinks he will. Perhaps the Yankees are not good
runners. But Rodney has been true to his colors and I have not. I said I
never would fight against the Union, but I have stood by and seen a gun
fired at the old flag; and I have no doubt that the skipper of the
_Hollins_ when he saw me aboard the privateer, took me for as good a
rebel as there was in the crew. Perhaps he will see his mistake some
day. I shall have to accept my share of the prize money, for if I don't
Beardsley's suspicions will be aroused; but I'll put it away and send it
to the master of the _Hollins_ the first good chance I get. Has Wat
Gifford been here since I went to sea? You know he warned me of two
secret enemies I would have to look out for, and hinted that he would
some day tell me who the rest are." ["But I think I know already," added
Marcy mentally.] While he was at sea he had had ample leisure to think
over the situation, and had made up his mind that he knew right where
the most serious danger that threatened him and his mother was coming
from.
"Walter has been here," replied Mrs. Gray, "and I understand that he has
since gone back to the army, his furlough, which was a short one, having
expired. I was glad to see Walter, for it was a very great relief to
visit with some one to whom I knew I could talk freely; but I must say
he left a very unpleasant impression on my mind. He told me, in so many
words, that we are suspected of being traitors at heart, and that there
are but few of our neighbors we can trust."
"And who are they?" inquired Marcy. "When we know who our friends are,
it will be no trouble for us to pick out our enemies."
"I asked Walter that very question, and after some hesitation he was
obliged to confess that he could not name a single person. There are
some who denounce secession in the very strongest terms, but that
doesn't prove anything, for Walter has often done the same thing
himself, and he is a rebel soldier," said Mrs. Gray sadly. "Only think
of it, Marcy! To not one of the many who were our warm friends in times
past, can we go for advice and sympathy, now that trouble is coming upon
us. Is it not dreadful?"
"Who cares for advice or sympathy?" exclaimed the boy wrathfully. "We've
got each other and Jack to go to when the pinch comes, and outsiders can
just mind their own business and live to themselves, and let us do the
same. Traitors! That word doesn't apply to us, mother."
"I know it doesn't; but for all that I am afraid that the 'outsiders,'
as you call them, will not let us live to ourselves. Young Gifford
almost as good as told me that some of our near neighbors intend to keep
themselves posted in regard to our movements."
"The--the impudence of the thing!" exclaimed the young pilot, pounding
his knees with his clenched hands. "Who's going to keep them posted?
Where do they expect to get their information? Through the overseer?"
"Through the overseer," whispered Mrs. Gray, in reply.
"Are you afraid to speak the words out loud?" cried Marcy, who had
seldom been so excited as he was at that moment. "Great Moses! Have
things come to such a pass that we dare not talk in our ordinary tones
in our own house, but must carry on our conversation in whispers?"
"I was in hopes that my letters would prepare you for something like
this," said his mother slowly.
"Well, they didn't. Of course I knew I should find things changed, but I
never thought we should be spied upon in our own house," answered Marcy.
"Traitors, are we, when we haven't done the first thing to deserve the
name! But is there no way in which that villain Hanson can be got rid
of?"
"There is but one way that occurs to me now," was the reply. "When his
contract expires we can tell him that we do not intend to employ an
overseer any longer."
"And that will be almost a year from now," groaned Marcy. "How can we
live for so many months, knowing all the while that our every movement
is watched, and that some one is constantly trying to catch every word
we say? I don't believe I can stand it. Did Gifford say anything
about----"
Marcy paused, got upon his feet, and opened quickly, but silently, one
after another, all the doors that led from the room in which he and his
mother were sitting. There were no eavesdroppers among the servants
_yet_ but that was no sign that there wouldn't be some to-morrow or next
day. An overseer who was left as much to himself as Hanson was, held
great power in his hands; and some negro servants are as open to bribery
as some white people are. Having made sure that there was no one
listening at the door, Marcy drew his chair close to his mother's side
before he spoke again.
"Did Gifford say anything about the money--the thirty thousand dollars
in gold you have hidden in the cellar wall?" he asked, in suppressed
tones.
"He did, and it troubles me more than anything else he said during his
visit," replied Mrs. Gray, glancing nervously around the room, as if she
feared that there might be a listener concealed behind some of the
chairs or under the sofa. "In spite of my utmost care, that matter,
which I hoped to keep from the knowledge of even the most faithful among
the servants, has become known. I cannot account for it. It fairly
unnerves me to think of it, for it suggests a most alarming
possibility."
"Did Gifford say, in so many words, that you were known to have money in
the house?"
"He did not. He said it was suspected."
"And what is the alarming possibility you just spoke of?" continued
Marcy.
"Why, I am afraid that there is some trusted person nearer to me than
the overseer is--some one right here in the house who has been watching
me day and night," answered his mother, shivering all over and drawing
nearer to her sturdy son, as if for protection. "You don't know how it
makes me feel, or how keenly I have suffered since young Gifford's
visit."
"I wish he had stopped away," said Marcy, almost fiercely.
"I don't," replied his mother. "He meant it for the best, and wouldn't
have told me a word if I had not insisted. You must not blame Walter. It
is best that I should understand the situation; and Marcy, you know you
would not have told me a word of all this if Gifford had told it to
you."
"Perhaps he did say something to me about it," answered the boy, with an
air which said that his mother had not been telling him anything he did
not know before. "But I have been more careful of your feelings than
Gifford was."
"And did you mean to leave me all in the dark and utterly ignorant of
the perils that surround us?" said Mrs. Gray reproachfully. "Do you
think that would have been just to me? Don't imagine, because you are my
protector and the only one I have to depend on while Jack is at sea,
that you have all the courage there is between us. I know you would
shield me entirely if you could, but it is impossible; and you must let
me bear my part. I shall have to whether you consent or not. But you
haven't yet told me where you have been, how you captured that vessel,
what the captain said about it, or--or anything," she added, with a
feeble attempt to bring the boy's usual smile back to his face.
"Remember, I am deeply interested in all that you do."
"Well, you wouldn't be if you had seen the cowardly work I helped
Beardsley carry out," replied Marcy. "In the first place, Crooked Inlet
is buoyed in such a way that the stranger who tries to go through it
will run his vessel so hard and fast aground that she will be likely to
stay there until the waves make an end of her, or the shifting sands of
the bar bury her out of sight."
"That's murderous," exclaimed Mrs. Gray, with a shudder. "Is Captain
Beardsley about to turn wrecker?"
"He means to wreck any war vessel that may give chase to his schooner,"
answered Marcy. "If we are pursued, I can take the _Osprey_ through all
right; but if the man-of-war attempts to follow us, and allows herself
to be guided by the buoys, she'll stick. Oh, it's lovely business--a
brave and honorable business," exclaimed the boy, running his hands
through his hair and tumbling it up as he used to do at school when he
found anything in his books that was too hard for him. "I have the
profoundest contempt for the villain who brought me into it, and despise
myself for yielding to him."
"But, Marcy, what else could you have done? Gilford assured me it was
the only course open to you, and that by shipping as pilot on board that
privateer you have somewhat allayed suspicion."
"Mother," said Marcy, placing his arm around her neck and whispering the
words in her ear, "Captain Beardsley doesn't need a pilot any more than
he needs some one to command his piratical craft. I suspected as much
all the while, and the minute we got up to Crooked Inlet I knew it. He
can tell you more about the coast in five minutes than I could in an
hour."
"Of course, a trader----" began Mrs. Gray.
"Mother," repeated Marcy, "Lon Beardsley is not and never has been a
trader. He's a smuggler between this country and Cuba. He says himself
that he never made a voyage farther away from home than the West Indies.
He knows every inch of the coast like a book."
"Then what does he want of you?" inquired Mrs. Gray, with a look of
surprise. "Why can he not permit you to stay at home in peace, as he
knows I want you to do? Do you still think he wants to test your loyalty
to the South?"
"That's just what he is up to," replied Marcy. "He came here in the hope
that I would refuse his offer, so that he would have an excuse for
getting me into trouble."
Yes, that was one object Captain Beardsley had in view when he proposed
to make Marcy Gray pilot of the privateer, but there was another behind
it, and one that was much nearer to the smuggler's heart. As Marcy had
told his friend Wat Gifford, on the day the two held that confidential
conversation in front of the Nashville post-office, Beardsley wanted to
marry Mrs. Gray's plantation; and when he found that he must give up all
hope in that direction, like the poor apology for a man that he was, he
hit upon a plan for taking vengeance upon Marcy's mother. If she proved,
when the test was applied, to be friendly to the South and its cause, he
would not dare lift a finger against her or her property, for he knew
that if he did his neighbors would quickly interest themselves in the
matter; but if she would only refuse to permit Marcy to ship on board
the privateer, then he would have a clear field for his operations. He
could accuse Marcy's mother of being a Yankee sympathizer, and that
would turn the whole settlement against her at once, because she was
already suspected of Union sentiments, and some of her nearest neighbors
were so certain that she was loyal to the old flag and opposed to
secession, that they thought it their duty to cease visiting her. It
would be no trouble at all, Beardsley thought, to arouse public feeling
against her; but unfortunately for the success of his plans, Mrs. Gray
did not refuse her consent; the boy took the position offered him on the
_Osprey_ made one voyage at sea, and did his duty as faithfully as any
other member of the crew.
"I know Beardsley wanted to find out where I stood," repeated Marcy. "He
expected and hoped that I would refuse to accept his proposition so that
he would have an excuse for persecuting us; but being disappointed
there, he intends to work in another direction. He means to make trouble
on account of the money you have in the cellar."
"But what business--what right has he with it?" said Mrs. Gray
indignantly. "It's ours."
"I know it, and we're going to keep it; but if Beardsley can make sure
that you went to Richmond, Wilmington, and Newbern for _money_--and I
think you will find that he looks to Hanson, the overseer, to furnish
him with the proof, and bring a gang of longshoremen up here from
Plymouth some dark night----"
"Oh, Marcy!" cried Mrs. Gray, starting from her chair and clasping her
hands in alarm, "don't speak of it!"
"I wish from the bottom of my heart that I need not have told you of
it," said the boy, getting upon his feet and pacing the floor with
restless, angry strides. "But Wat Gifford believes that something of the
sort is going to happen, and so do I. Wat didn't say so, but I am sure
that is what he would have told me if he had found me at home when he
came here. You knew there was danger in every one of those gold pieces
you brought home with you; else why did you take so much pains to put
them where you thought no one would be likely to find them?"
"It is true I did know it, and was afraid that if the news got abroad in
the settlement, some of our poor neighbors might be tempted to commit
crime," answered Mrs. Gray. "We never had so large an amount of money in
the house before, and its presence troubles me greatly; but I never
dreamed that we had anything to fear from an organized band of
freebooters."
"And the fear of what Beardsley will do, if he finds out that the money
is really in the house, is what troubles me," said the young pilot
dolefully. "That man is capable of any desperate deed when he thinks he
has the power on his side. I know you never thought of such a thing at
the time, but your trips about the country, which Wat Gifford says could
not have been made without an object of some sort, have excited a good
deal of talk among the neighbors. Captain Beardsley posted Hanson, and
Hanson, so Wat told me, is more to be feared than any one else, for he
is right here on the place. These secret enemies will drive us both
crazy."
"We'll not give them the satisfaction of knowing that they can trouble
us in the least," replied his mother, with dignity. "Now we will dismiss
them entirely from our minds, while you tell me all the interesting
things that happened during your cruise."
"There isn't a thing to tell," was Marcy's answer. "We sighted the
_Hollins_ inside Diamond Shoals, threw a couple of shrapnel at her and
she came to; that's all there was of it. Her skipper was a sailorman all
over, and plucky, too; and if he had had anything to fight with, he
would have made things lively for us. I never before felt so sorry for
anybody as I did for him; but of course I didn't have a chance to tell
him so. I may some day meet him under different circumstances."
When the boy said this he did not really believe that such a thing ever
could occur, but nevertheless it did. Strange things happen in this
world sometimes, and in process of time it came about that the young
pilot again stood face to face with the master of the _Mary Hollins_ no
longer a prisoner pleading with Captain Beardsley that his men might not
be ironed like felons, but standing free on the quarter-deck of an armed
vessel, with a hundred blue-jackets ready to do his bidding, and the
Stars and Stripes waving proudly and triumphantly above him. And
Beardsley--he was there, too; and perhaps we shall see what sort of
heart he kept up when he found himself thrust into the "brig" so quickly
that he did not have time to tell what his name was.
"How long does your leave of absence extend?" inquired Mrs. Gray, after
a little pause.
"Until I am ordered to report," replied Marcy, with a laugh. "Perhaps
the captain didn't know I wrote it out that way, but that isn't my
fault. It was his business to read the paper before signing it. If he
wants me he will have to send for me. You ought to have heard that
Newbern mob whoop and yell when the crew of the _Hollins_ were marched
off to jail. They called them 'Abolitionists' and 'nigger-lovers'; but
the prisoners kept their eyes straight to the front, and marched on as
though they didn't hear a word of it. It was a shame to treat brave men
that way."
Just as the young pilot ceased speaking there was a gentle knock at the
door; and so sudden and unexpected was it, that it brought both him and
his mother to their feet in a twinkling. How long had the person who
gave that knock been within reach of the door, was the first thought
that arose in the mind of each. Had some one crept along the hall and
listened at the key-hole in the hope of hearing some of their
conversation?
"If that is the case," Marcy whispered to his mother, "she has had her
trouble for her pains. We haven't said a dozen words that could have
been heard the length of this room. 'Come in!'"
The door opened to admit one of the numerous female house servants, who
announced that there was a gentleman on the gallery who had called to
see Mrs. Gray on very important private and particular business.
"She looks innocent enough," thought Marcy, who could not bring himself
to believe, as his mother evidently did, that some of the domestics were
watching their movements and reporting the result of their observations
to the overseer. "I don't think she heard a word, and she certainly
could not have seen anything." And then, finding that his mother was
looking at him as if she meant him to understand that she knew what the
visitor's business was, and desired him to take it off her hands, he
said, aloud: "Who is the gentleman, and do you know what he's got to say
that is so very important and particular?"
"I don't know, sah, what he want to speak about," answered the girl,
"but de man is Mr. Kelsey."
Marcy could hardly keep back an exclamation of disgust, and in an
instant he was on his guard. The man's name and the message he had sent
in warned him to be on the lookout for treachery. Kelsey was one of
Beardsley's "renters"--that is to say, he hired from the captain a few
acres of ground, on which he managed to raise enough corn and potatoes
to keep his family from absolute want, and a little log cabin in which
he found shelter when he was not absent on his hunting and thieving
expeditions. Marcy had not seen him since his return from Barrington,
but he had heard of him as a red-hot Confederate who went about
declaring that hanging was too good for Yankees and their sympathizers.
When Marcy heard of this, he told himself that the man was another Bud
Goble, who, when the pinch came, would take to the woods and stay there
as long as danger threatened.
"I'll be with him directly," he said, addressing himself to the girl,
who went out, closing the door behind her.
"What in the name of wonder can that worthless man want with me?"
whispered Mrs. Gray, when she thought she had given the domestic time to
get out of hearing. "He has never been in this house before except to
beg."
"And he wouldn't be here now if he hadn't been sent," replied the boy.
"Oh, Marcy!" said his mother.
"That is just what I mean. It isn't old clothes or grub that he is after
this time."
"But Beardsley couldn't have put him up to anything. He is in Newbern."
"No odds. He left plenty of friends behind to do his dirty work, and
this fellow, Kelsey, is one of them. It will take a sharper man than he
is to pull the wool over my eyes."
"Don't be over-confident, my son. He is not too insignificant--no one is
too insignificant these times to do us some terrible injury. Be careful
how you treat him and what you say to him. It might be dangerous to make
him angry, for he has powerful friends behind him. Don't be gone long,
for I shall be uneasy until you return."
"I'll be right back," promised Marcy; and, giving his mother a
reassuring kiss, he left the room and went out on the porch to see what
Beardsley's friend and spy wanted.
The latter looked just as he did the last time Marcy saw him--too lazy
to take a long breath. He was tall and lank, his hair fell down upon his
shoulders, his whiskers were as tangled and matted as a little brush
heap--in short, he was as fine a specimen of a poor white as one could
find anywhere in the seceded States. He looked stupid as well as
shiftless, but the young pilot knew he wasn't. He was as sly as a fox
and as cunning as well, and Marcy confessed to himself that he stood
more in fear of him than he did of Captain Beardsley. When the man heard
Marcy's step upon the porch, he tried to assume the servile air which
was characteristic of poor Southern whites before the war; but he did
not succeed very well. His manner seemed to say that he knew he was
dealing with one he could crush whenever he felt like it, and of whom he
need not stand in fear; and Marcy was quick to notice it.
"Sarvent, sah," said Kelsey, rising to his feet and taking off his
tattered hat, which, however, he almost instantly replaced. "I heared
that you had got back again from sea, an' that you had whopped the
Yankees first time tryin', same as our fellers done down to
Charleston."
"Yes, sir," replied Marcy, seating himself, and depositing his feet on
the railing, as if to indicate that he was quite at the service of his
friend Kelsey as long as the latter wanted to talk to him. "We whipped
them, and we could do the same thing again." ["And that's nothing but
the truth," he added, to himself. "When an armed vessel meets one that's
not armed, the helpless one is bound to go under every time."]
It is hard to tell just what Kelsey expected the boy to say in response
to his greeting, but in spite of his usual self-control his face showed
that he had not looked for any such answer as this. Marcy spoke and
acted as if he were delighted with the success that had attended the
_Osprey's_ first cruise at sea, and proud of being able to say that he
was one of her crew.
"You sent in word that you desired to see my mother on very particular
business," continued Marcy. "She doesn't feel like seeing anybody
to-day--upset by the war news, you know--and I am here to speak for her.
It's nothing bad, I hope?"
Kelsey straightened up on his seat and assumed a business air, as if
these words had suggested an idea to him.
"Yes, it's kinder bad," said he. "We uns know that you are true blue,
fur if you wasn't you wouldn't be on that privateer; an' if your maw
wasn't true blue, she wouldn't a let you go."
["That sounds exactly like Beardsley," said Marcy, to himself.] "Well,
what of it? Didn't I do my duty faithfully?"
"I ain't sayin' nothing agin that," replied the man hastily.
"But--you're fur Jeff Davis, ain't you?"
Instead of answering in words, Marcy pulled down the corner of his right
eye and looked at Kelsey as if to ask him if he saw anything green in
it.
"What do ye mean by them movements?" demanded the visitor.
"I mean that I am not going to talk politics with you," was the reply.
"This settlement is full of traitors, and I'm going to hold my tongue
unless I know who I am talking to. If I do that, I shan't get into
trouble by speaking too freely in the hearing of a Yankee spy."
"But look a-here, Mister Marcy," protested Kelsey.
"If you came to pry into our private affairs, you might as well jump on
your mule and go home, for you'll not get a word from me. I ought to put
the dogs on you, for if all I hear is true you're the worst kind of a
traitor." ["And so you are," thought Marcy, closely watching the effect
of his words, although he did not seem to be doing so; "you're a traitor
to the old flag."]
The visitor was astonished beyond measure, and it was fully a minute
before he could collect his wits sufficiently to frame a reply.