AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
The Snapper was quite a small craft, and looked like an old vessel; for
she was a side-wheeler, though she had evidently been built for a
sea-going craft. Whether Flanger had escaped from the Bellevite after
being transferred to her from the Bronx, or had been regularly exchanged
as a prisoner of war, Christy had no means of knowing. It made little
difference; he was in Nassau, and he was thirsting for revenge against
him.
The young officer did not feel that the brutal wretch had any reasonable
cause to complain of him, and especially no right to revenge himself for
an injury received while his assailant was the aggressor. He had done
his duty to his country. He had been compelled to act promptly; and he
had not aimed his revolver particularly at the nose of his dangerous
assailant. Flanger was engaged in a foolhardy enterprise; and the
mutilation of his nasal member had resulted very naturally from his
folly.
His enemy was probably a good sailor, and he was a bold ruffian. Christy
had captured the steamer loaded with cotton, in which he was all ready
to sail from St. Andrew's Bay; and doubtless this was his first reason
for hating the young officer. But no soldier or sailor of character
would ever think of such a thing as revenging himself for an injury
received in the strife, especially if it was fairly inflicted. The
business of war is to kill, wound, and capture, as well as for each side
to injure the other in person and property to the extent of its ability.
"Want a boat, sir?" asked a negro, who saw that Christy was gazing at
the Snapper, even while he was thinking about his quarrel with Captain
Flanger.
"Where is your boat?" asked the officer.
"Right here, sir," replied the boatman, pointing to the steps at the
landing-place. "The best sailboat in the harbor, sir."
"I want to sail about this bay for a couple of hours," added Christy,
as he stopped on the upper step to examine the craft.
It was built exactly like the Eleuthera, though not quite so large.
"I saw you looking at the steamer there," said the boatman, pointing to
the vessel in which Christy was interested. "Do you wish to go on board
of her, sir?"
"No; I desire only to sail about the harbor, and perhaps go outside the
bar. Can you cross it in this boat?"
"Yes, sir; no trouble at all about crossing it in the Dinah. Take you
over to Eleuthera, if you like."
"No; I only want to sail about the harbor, and look at the vessels in
port," replied Christy.
While he was looking at the boat, he became conscious that a young man,
who was standing on the capsill of the wharf, was looking at him very
earnestly. He only glanced at him, but did not recognize him. He had
taken the first step in the descent of the stairs, when this person put
his hand upon his shoulder to attract his attention. Christy looked at
him, and was sure that he had seen him before, though he failed to
identify him.
"How are you, Christy?" said the stranger. "Don't you know me?"
"Your face has a familiar look to me, but I am unable to make you out at
first sight," replied the young officer, more puzzled as he examined the
features of the young man, who appeared to be about twenty years old.
"You and I both have grown a great deal in the last two years, since we
first met on this very wharf; but I am Percy Pierson, and you and I were
fellow-voyagers in the Bellevite."
"I think you have changed in that time more than I have, or I should
have recognized you," answered Christy very coldly, for he was not at
all pleased to be identified by any person.
"You are a good deal larger than when I saw you last time, but you look
just the same. I am glad to see you, Christy, for you and I ran a big
rig over in Mobile Bay," continued Percy, as he extended his hand to the
other.
Christy realized that it would be useless as well as foolish to deny his
identity to one who knew him so well. A moment's reflection assured him
that he must make the best of the circumstances; but he wished with all
his might that he had not come to Nassau. He was particularly glad that
he had insisted upon separating from Mr. Gilfleur, for the present
encounter would have ruined his mission. The young man's father was
Colonel Richard Pierson, a neighbor of Homer Passford; and he was a
Confederate commissioner for the purchase of vessels for the rebel navy,
for running the blockade. Doubtless the son was his father's assistant,
as he had been at the time of Christy's first visit.
Percy was not a person of very heavy brain calibre, as his companion had
learned from an association of several weeks with him. Christy believed
that he might obtain some useful information from him; and he decided,
since it was impossible to escape the interview, to make the best of it,
and he accepted the offered hand. He did not consider the young
Southerner as much of a rebel, for he had refused to shoulder a musket
and fight for the cause.
"I begin to see your former looks, and particularly your expression,"
said Christy. "I am very glad to see you, and I hope you have been very
well since we met last."
"Very well indeed."
"Do you live here, Percy?"
"I have lived here most of the time since we parted on board of the
Bellevite, and you put me on board of a schooner bound to Nassau. That
was a very good turn you did me, for I believed you would take me to New
York, and pitch me into a Yankee prison. I was very grateful to you, for
I know it was your influence that saved me."
This remark seemed to put a new face upon the meeting. Christy had done
nothing to cause him to be set free; for the Bellevite, though she had
beaten off several steamers that attempted to capture her, was not in
the regular service at the time, her mission in the South being simply
to bring home the daughter of her owner, who had passed the winter with
her uncle at Glenfield.
"I am very glad I was able to do you a good turn," replied Christy, who
considered it his duty to take advantage of the circumstances. "I am
just going out to take a sail; won't you join me?"
"Thank you; I shall be very glad to do so. I suppose you are a Yankee
still, engaged in the business of subjugating the free South, as I am
still a rebel to the backbone," replied Percy, laughing very pleasantly.
"But you are not in the rebel army now, any more than you were at that
time," added Christy in equally good humor.
"I am not. You know all about my army experience. My brother, the major,
sends me a letter by every chance he can get, and has offered to have my
indiscretion, as he called it, in leaving the camp, passed over, if I
will save the honor of the family by returning to the army; but my
father insists that I can render better service to the cause as his
assistant."
Christy led the way down the steps, and the two seated themselves in the
bow of the boat. The skipper shoved off after he had set his sails, and
the boat stood out towards the Snapper, for he could hardly avoid
passing quite near to her.
"What are you doing in Nassau, Christy?" asked Percy.
This was a hard question, and it was utterly impossible to make a
truthful reply without upsetting the plan of Mr. Gilfleur, and rendering
useless the voyage of the Chateaugay to the Bahamas.
"I am in just as bad a scrape as you were when you were caught on board
of the Bellevite," replied Christy after a moment's reflection.
"Are you a prisoner of war?"
"How could I be a prisoner in a neutral port like Nassau? No; I do not
regard myself as a prisoner just now," answered Christy very
good-humoredly.
"But you have been a prisoner, and you have escaped in some vessel that
run the blockade. I see it all; and you need not stop to explain it,"
said Percy, who flattered himself on his brilliant perception.
"The less I say about it the better it will be for me," added Christy,
willing to accept the situation as his companion had marked it out.
"But you must not let my father see you."
"I never met Colonel Pierson, though I saw him once, and he would not
know me if we should meet."
"Then don't let him know who you are."
"He will not know, unless you tell him."
"You may be very sure that I will not mention you to him, or to anybody
else, for that matter," replied Percy very earnestly.
But Christy did not put any confidence in his assertion. Percy was
really a deserter from the Confederate army, and he knew that he had in
several instances acted the traitor's part. He had more respect for an
out-and-out rebel than for one who shirked his duty to his country as he
understood it.
"I have been afraid some one might identify me here," suggested Christy,
determined not to over-act his part.
"I might help you out of the scrape," said Percy, who appeared to be
reflecting upon something that had come to his mind. "I suppose you are
aware that most of the vessels in this harbor, and those outside the
bar, are directly or indirectly interested in blockade-running."
"I supposed so, but I know nothing about it."
"Some of them have brought in cotton, with which others are loading for
England. My business as my father's clerk takes me on board of most of
them, and I know the captains and other officers very well. This little
steamer we have just passed was bought for a Mobile man by my father.
She carried a full cargo of goods into Mobile, and came out again full
of cotton. She is called the Snapper, and she is a regular snapper at
her business. She is now all loaded, and will sail on the next tide.
I am well acquainted with her captain."
"What sort of a man is he?" asked Christy in an indifferent tone.
"He is a very good fellow; bold as an eagle, and brave as a lion. He
drinks too much whiskey for his own good; but he knows all the ports on
the Gulf of Mexico, and he gets in or out in face of the blockaders
every time," answered Percy with enthusiasm.
"Did he never lose a vessel?"
"Never but one; that was the Floridian, and I reckon you know as much
about that affair as any other person, Christy," replied Percy, laughing
as though it had been a good joke on Captain Flanger.
"I know something about it."
"Your uncle, Colonel Passford, lost several vessels, and you had a hand
in their capture. But never mind that; you did me a good turn, and I
never go back on a friend. Now, my dear fellow, I do not think it will
be safe for you to remain here. You are looked upon as a dangerous
fellow along the Gulf coast, as Colonel Passford writes to my father;
and if my governor should get a hint that you were here, he would make a
business of getting you inside a Confederate prison."
"I am under the flag of England just now, and that is supposed to
protect neutrals."
"That's all very well, my dear fellow; but my governor could manage your
affair in some way. I can make a trade with the captain of the Snapper
to put you ashore at Key West."
"You are very kind, Percy."
"It will be necessary for you to buy a boat here, one with a sail, which
can be carried on the deck of the steamer," continued Percy, evidently
much interested in the scheme he was maturing.
At this moment the Dinah was passing under the stern of a steamer,
on which Christy read the name "Ovidio."