A CAT WITHOUT CLAWS.
"I really believe I've got a hold on the old rascal at last," said Marcy
to himself, as he leaned against the rail and watched the men, who,
under direction of the mates, were hard at work getting the howitzers
ashore. "From this time on he had better be careful how he treats my
mother, for he may fall into the hands of the Yankees some day; and if
that ever happens, I will take pains to see that he doesn't get back to
Nashville in a hurry. I'll go any lengths to get a letter to the
Secretary of the Treasury, telling him just who and what Beardsley is,
and then perhaps he will stand a chance of being tried for something
besides piracy and blockade-running."
Marcy's first care was to write to his mother. While omitting no item of
news, he took pains to word the letter so cautiously that it could not
be used against him in case some of his secret enemies in and around
Nashville, the postmaster and Colonel Shelby, for instance, took it into
their heads to open and read it instead of sending it to its address.
They had showed him that they were quite mean enough to do it. Then he
went ashore to mail the letter and take notes, and was not long in
making up his mind that he was not the only one who thought there was
going to be a war. Although the Newbern people were very jubilant over
the great victory at Bull Run, they did not act as though they thought
that that was the last battle they would have to fight before their
independence would be acknowledged, for Marcy saw infantry companies
marching and drilling in almost every street through which he passed,
and every other man and boy he met was dressed in uniform. As he drew
near to the post-office he ran against a couple of young soldiers about
his own age, or, to be more exact, they ran against him; for they were
coming along with their arms locked, talking so loudly that they could
have been heard on the opposite side of the street, and when the
_Osprey's_ pilot turned out to let them pass, they tried to crowd him
off into the gutter. But Marcy, beside being a sturdy fellow, knew how
to stand up for his rights. He braced his foot firmly against the
curbstone and met the shock of the collision so vigorously that those
who would have sent him headlong into the street were sent backward
themselves, and came very near going head first down the stairs that led
into a basement restaurant.
"Don't you think I ought to have a little of this sidewalk?" he asked
good-naturedly, as the two straightened up and faced him with clenched
hands and flashing eyes.
"Then put on a uniform and you can have as much of it as you want," said
one, in reply.
"How long have you had those good clothes of yours?" inquired Marcy.
"Were they in the fight at Bull Run?"
"Of course not. We only enlisted a week ago, but we show our good will
and you don't."
"Then you have never smelled powder or heard the noise of the enemy's
guns?"
"It isn't likely, for there's been no fighting around here," said the
same speaker, who began to wonder if he and his companions hadn't made a
mistake.
"Then go and get some experience before you take it upon yourselves to
shove a veteran into the ditch," said Marcy loftily. "I've been in the
service ever since President Davis issued his call for privateers.
You've heard of the _Osprey_, haven't you? Well, I belong to her."
"Is that so?" exclaimed the other, extending his hand, which the pilot
was prompt to accept. "I am sorry we insulted you and beg your pardon
for it. But you ought to wear something to show who you are, for the
folks around here don't think much of citizens unless they have declared
their intention of enlisting as soon as they can get their affairs in
shape."
"I knew why you bumped up against me, and that was the reason I didn't
get mad at it," answered Marcy. "You don't seem to have much to do; and
if you will walk up to the post-office with me, I'll show you over the
_Osprey_, if you would like to take a look at her. But we'll have to be
in a hurry if we want to see her with the guns aboard, for she is being
changed into a blockade-runner."
"Ah! That's the money-making business," said one of the recruits with
enthusiasm. "I wish I knew something about boats, so that I could go
into it myself. What wages do you get?"
"Five hundred dollars for the run to Nassau and back."
The eyes of Marcy's new friends grew to twice their usual size. They
looked hard at him to see if he was really in earnest, and then whistled
in concert.
"It's worth it," continued Marcy, "and I don't believe you could get men
to go into it for less. From the time we leave the protection of the
forts at Hatteras to the time we get back, we shall be in constant fear
of capture. We know something of the dangers of the business, for we had
two narrow escapes during our last cruise."
Of course the recruits wanted to know all about it, and as they faced
around and walked with him, Marcy gave them a short history of what the
schooner had done since she went into commission. When he told how
neatly that Yankee brig had slipped through Captain Beardsley's fingers,
his companions looked at him in surprise.
"What a pity," said one. "And yet you talk as if you were glad of it."
"I talk as if it was a brave and skilful act, and so it was," answered
Marcy. "You would say the same if you had been there and seen it done."
"No, I wouldn't. The Yankees are not brave and skilful, and they can't
do anything to make me think they are. How will they feel when they see
our President sitting in the White House, dictating terms of peace to
them? I hope our company will be there to witness the ceremony."
This was a point Marcy did not care to discuss with the two recruits,
for fear he might say something to arouse in their minds a suspicion
that he was not intensely loyal to the Confederacy, even if he did sail
under its flag; so he inquired if there were anything else but drilling
and marching going on in Newbern.
"Not much else in the city," replied one of the young soldiers. "But
there's a heap going on about five miles below. There's a corps of
engineers down there laying out a system of fortifications which are to
be a mile long. It will take eight or nine thousand men to garrison
them, and they will be defended by thirty-one guns."
"But I don't see any sense in it," said the other, who seemed to think
he had learned considerable of the art of war since he put on his gray
jacket. "A Yankee army will never come so far south as Newbern, and
their gunboats can't get past the forts at Hatteras."
But, all the same, the Confederate authorities thought the works ought
to be pushed to completion, and so they were; but they did not amount to
much, for Burnside's troops captured them after a four hours' fight,
with the loss of only ninety-one men killed, the garrison retreating to
Newbern and taking the cars for Goldsborough. When Marcy heard of it a
few months later, he wondered if his new acquaintances were in the
fight, and if they still held to the opinion that the Yankees were not
brave.
After leaving the post-office they spent an hour on board the _Osprey_
and parted at last well pleased with the result of their meeting, and
fully satisfied in their own minds that the Yankees had been so badly
whipped at Bull Run that they would never dare face the Confederate
soldiers again. At least the two recruits were satisfied of it; but
Marcy thought he knew better.
On the morning of the next day but one, a tug came alongside and towed
the schooner up to a warehouse, where there was a load of cotton waiting
for her; and for want of something better to do, Marcy hunted up a
cotton-hook and assisted in rolling the heavy bales on board. The little
vessel was so changed in appearance that a landsman would hardly have
recognized her. The treacherous figure "9," which Beardsley had caused
to be painted on her sails, in the hope that merchant vessels would take
her for a harmless pilot-boat, was not to be seen; all the black paint
about her, from the heel of her bowsprit to the crosstrees, had given
place to a bluish-white; and on both sides of her bow and over her cabin
door the name _Hattie_ appeared in large gilt letters.
"Now, when them _Hollins_ men get home and try to give the war ships a
description of the privateer that captured them, they will be mighty apt
to shoot wide of the mark, won't they?" said Captain Beardsley, who was
much pleased with the work the painters had done under his instructions.
"There ain't the first thing aboard of us to show that we used to be
engaged in the privateering business. Oh, I'm a sharp one, and it takes
something besides a Yankee to get the start of me."
Beardsley was so impatient to get to sea, and so very anxious to handle
the fortune he was sure he was going to make by his first attempt at
blockade running, that he employed all the men that could be worked to
advantage, and took on board every bale he could possibly find room for.
The deck load was so large that it threatened to interfere with the
handling of the sails! and when a tug pulled the schooner's head around
till it pointed down the river, she set so low in the water that she
could not show her usual speed, even with the tide in her favor, and
Tierney said in Marcy's hearing that he believed he could hoist a sail
in a washing-tub and reach Nassau before the schooner could leave the
sand dunes of Hatteras out of sight. But the captain did not seem to
think he had made any mistake in loading his vessel, although he did
show some anxiety for her safety; for when she reached Crooked Inlet he
walked aft and took charge of the wheel himself, and without saying one
word to the young fellow whom he called his pilot, until he saw the
latter looking at him as if he wanted to know what Beardsley meant by
such work.
"There, now," said the captain, by way of explanation, "I thought you
was below; I did for a fact. And so I said to myself that I wouldn't
bother you, but would try and take her through without your help, just
to see if I could do it, you know. Supposing you was the only one aboard
who knew the channel, and something should happen to you, and I should
want to come through here in a hurry to get out of the way of a war ship
that was close in my wake; wouldn't I be in a pretty fix? Now stand by,
so't you can give me a word in case I don't hold her just right."
"You old hypocrite," thought Marcy. "If that was the first lie you ever
told it would choke you. So he thinks something is going to happen to
me, does he? Now what does he mean by that?"
Captain Beardsley had done nothing more than Marcy expected him to do,
but he did not have a word of fault to find with it, as a regular pilot
would have done when he saw his business taken out of his hands in so
unceremonious a fashion. If the skipper was willing to pay him five
hundred dollars for doing nothing, the boy didn't think he ought to
complain. He took his stand close by the captain's side, but he did not
touch the wheel, nor did he so much as look at the black and red buoys
that marked the channel. He was turning these words over in his mind:
"Suppose something should happen to you!" Was he to understand that
Beardsley had made up his mind to get rid of him in some way?
"If that is what he wants, why didn't he pay me off while we were in
Newbern?" was the question Marcy asked himself. "But for some reason or
other it doesn't suit him to have me at home with mother; and that makes
me think that there's going to be an attempt made to steal the money she
has hidden in the cellar wall. Oh, how I wish Jack was at home."
When the schooner was clear of the Inlet, Beardsley gave the boy a wink
as if to say, "I did take her through, didn't I?" held a short
consultation with the mates, during which the course was determined
upon, then mounted to the cross trees with his glass in his hand; and
after sweeping it around the horizon, gave the cheering information to
those below that there was nothing in sight. But there was something in
sight a few hours later--something that put Beardsley in such a rage
that he did not get over it for a day or two. It was a schooner a little
larger than his own, and she was standing directly across the _Hattie's_
bows. She did not show any disposition to "dodge" as the brig had done,
but held straight on her course, and this made Captain Beardsley suspect
that there might be a cruiser following in her wake to see that she did
not get into trouble. But if there was, his glass failed to reveal the
fact, and this suggested an idea to him. When the stranger's topsails
could be seen from the _Hattie's_ deck he shouted down to his mate:
"Say, Morgan, I'll tell you what's the matter with that fellow. He don't
know that there's such things as privateers afloat, and he ain't seen
nary cruiser to warn him. That's why he don't sheer off."
"I reckon you're right, cap'n," replied the mate. "It's plain that he
ain't afraid of us."
"Well, if I am right," continued Beardsley, "it proves that the war
ships off Hatteras have went off somewheres, and that the coast below is
all clear; don't you think so? What do you say if we make a straight run
for our port? We'll save more than a week by it."
"I'm agreeable," answered the mate, who, upon receiving a nod from the
captain, gave the necessary orders, and in a few minutes the _Hattie_
was close-hauled and running in such a direction that if the two vessels
held on their way, they would pass almost within hailing distance of
each other. Of course the captain of the stranger must have witnessed
this manoeuvre, but he did not seem to be surprised or troubled by it;
for he kept straight on and in another hour dashed by within less than a
quarter of a mile of Captain Beardsley, who lifted his hat and waved it
to a small party of men, her officers probably, who were standing on her
quarter deck. In response to the salutation the Stars and Stripes were
hoisted at her peak.
"If she had done that three weeks ago wouldn't I have brought that flag
down with a jerk?" exclaimed Beardsley angrily. "Did anybody ever hear
of such luck? Why didn't she show up when we had them howitzers aboard?
They don't know what to make of us, for I can see two fellows with
glasses pointed at us all the time. Run up that Yankee flag, Marcy."
The latter was prompt to obey the order, and he was quite willing to do
it, since it was not in Beardsley's power to do any harm to the handsome
stranger. After being allowed to float for a few minutes the two flags
were hauled down and stowed away in their respective chests, and the
little vessels parted company without either one knowing who the other
was. But there was an angry lot of men on board the _Hattie._ Beardsley
showed that he was one of them by the hard words he used when he came
down from aloft and sent a lookout up to take his place, and Tierney,
after shaking his fist at the Yankee, shut one eye, glanced along the
rail with the other, as he had glanced through the sights of the
howitzer he once commanded, and then jerked back his right hand as if he
were pulling a lock-string. Marcy Gray was the only one aboard who
carried a light heart.
After the schooner's course was changed there was a good deal of
suppressed excitement among the crew, for Captain Beardsley was about to
take what some of them thought to be a desperate risk. Probably there
were no cruisers off Hatteras when that merchant vessel passed, but that
was all of fifteen or twenty hours ago, and they had had plenty of time
to get back to their stations. So a bright lookout was kept by all
hands, and Beardsley or one of the mates went aloft every few minutes to
take a peep through the glass. Marcy thought there was good cause for
watchfulness and anxiety. In the first place, the Bahama Islands, of
which Nassau, in the Island of New Providence, was the principal port,
lay off the coast of Florida, and about five hundred miles southeast of
Charleston. They must have been at least twice as far from Crooked
Inlet, so that Captain Beardsley, by selecting Newbern as his home port,
ran twice the risk of falling into the hands of the Federal cruisers
that he would if he had decided to run his contraband cargo into
Savannah or Charleston.
"It seems to me that the old man ought to have learned wisdom after
living for so many years in defiance of the law," thought Marcy, when it
came his turn to go aloft and relieve the lookout. "Of course a smuggler
has to take his chances with the revenue cutters he is liable to meet
along the coast, as well as with the Custom House authorities, and I
should think that constant fear of capture would have made him sly and
cautious; but it hasn't."--"Nothing in sight, sir," he said, in answer
to an inquiry from the officer who had charge of the deck.
And this was the report that was sent down by every lookout who went
aloft during the next four days; and what a time of excitement and
suspense that was for Marcy Gray and all the rest of the _Hattie's_
crew. Perhaps there was not so much danger of being run down at night by
some heavy vessel as there would have been a few months before, but
Marcy's nerves thrilled with apprehension when he stood holding fast to
the rail during the lonely mid-watch, and the schooner, with the spray
dashing wildly about her bows and everything drawing, was running before
a strong wind through darkness so black that her flying-jib-boom could
not be seen, and there was no light on board except the one in the
binnacle.
"I know it's dangerous and I don't like it any better than you do,"
Beardsley said to him one night. "But think of the money there is in it,
and what a fule you were for not taking out a venture when I gave you
the chance. I bought four bales apiece for the mates, and they will
pocket the money that you might have had just as well as not."
"But I want to use my seventeen hundred dollars," replied Marcy; and so
he did. He still clung to the hope that he might some day have an
opportunity to return it to the master of the _Hollins_, and that was
the reason he was unwilling to run the risk of losing it.
"Go and tell that to the marines," said Captain Beardsley impatiently.
"They'll believe anything, but I won't. You don't need it; your folks
don't, and I know it. Keep a bright lookout for lights, hold a stiff
upper lip, and I will take you safely through."
And so he did. Not only were the Federal war ships accommodating enough
to keep out of the way, but the elements were in good humor also. The
schooner had a fair wind during the whole of her perilous journey, and
in due time it wafted her into the port of Nassau. Although Marcy Gray
had never been there before, he had heard and read of New Providence as
a barren rock, with scarcely soil enough to produce a few pineapples and
oranges, and of Nassau as a place of no consequence whatever so far as
commerce was concerned. It boasted a small sponge trade, exported some
green turtles and conch-shells, and was the home of a few fisherman and
wreckers; this was all Marcy thought there was of Nassau, and
consequently his surprise was great when he found himself looking out
upon the wharves of a thriving, bustling little town. The slave-holders'
rebellion, "which brought woe and wretchedness to so many of our States,
was the wind that blew prosperity to Nassau." When President Lincoln's
proclamation, announcing the blockade of all the Confederate ports was
issued, Nassau took on an air of business and importance, and at once
became the favorite resort of vessels engaged in contraband trade. There
were Northern men there too, and Northern vessels as well; for, to quote
from the historian, "The Yankee, in obedience to his instincts of
traffic, scented the prey from afar, and went there to turn an honest
penny by assisting the Confederates to run the blockade." The supplies
which the Confederates had always purchased in the North, and of which
they already began to stand in need, were shipped from Europe in neutral
vessels; and being consigned to a neutral port (for Nassau belonged to
England), they were in no danger of being captured by our war ships
during the long voyage across the Atlantic. It was when these supplies
were taken from the wharves and placed in the holds of vessels like the
_Hattie_ that the trouble began, and men like Captain Beardsley ran all
the risk and reaped the lion's share of the profits. Almost the first
thing that drew Marcy's attention was the sight of a Union and
Confederate flag floating within a few rods of each other.
"What's the meaning of that?" he asked of Beardsley, as soon as he found
opportunity to speak to him. "We don't own this town, do we?"
"No; but we've got a Consulate here," was the reply. "I don't know's I
understand just what that means, but it's some sort of an officer that
our government has sent here to look out for our interests. If a man
wants to go from here to our country, he must go to that Consulate and
get a pass before any blockade-runner will take him. Now don't you wish
you had took my advice and brought out a venture?"
"It's too late to think of that now," answered Marcy. "And your own
profits are not safe yet. It must be all of a thousand miles from here
to Newbern, and perhaps we'll not have as good luck going as we did
coming. I am to have a hundred dollars to spend here, am I not?"
"Course. That's what I promised before you and the rest signed articles.
I'll give it to you the minute this cotton is got ashore and paid for.
What you going to do with it?"
"I thought I would invest it in medicine."
"Your head's level. You couldn't make bigger money on anything else."
"And as it is my own money and the captain of the _Hollins_ has no
interest in it, I shall feel quite at liberty to spend it as I choose,"
soliloquized Marcy, as the captain turned away to meet the
representative of the English house to which his cargo of cotton was
consigned. "Besides, I must keep up appearances, or I'll get into
trouble."
"Turn to, all hands, and get off the hatches," shouted one of the mates.
"Lively now, for the sooner we start back the sooner we'll get there."
Marcy did not know whether or not he was included in this order
addressed to "all hands," but as the officer looked hard at him he
concluded he was. At any rate he was willing to work, if for no other
purpose than to keep him from thinking. Somehow he did not like to have
his mind dwell upon the homeward run.