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YOUNG CAPTAIN JACK
Or
The Son of a Soldier
by
HORATIO ALGER, JR.
Author of "Out for Business," "Falling in with Fortune," "Adrift in New
York," "Tattered Tom," "Ragged Dick," Etc.
Completed by
ARTHUR M. WINFIELD
Author of "The Rover Boys Series," Etc.
[Illustration: "OUT OF MY WAY, BOY!" AND NOW THE GUERRILLA RAISED
HIS OWN SWORD.--_Frontispiece._]
New York
The Mershon Company
Publishers
Copyright, 1901,
by
The Mershon Company.
All rights reserved.
PREFACE.
"YOUNG CAPTAIN JACK" relates the adventures of a boy waif, who is cast
upon the Atlantic shore of one of our Southern States and taken into one
of the leading families of the locality. The youth grows up as a member
of the family, knowing little or nothing of his past. This is at the
time of the Civil War, when the locality is in constant agitation,
fearing that a battle will be fought in the immediate vicinity. During
this time there appears upon the scene a Confederate surgeon who, for
reasons of his own, claims Jack as his son. The youth has had trouble
with this man and despises him. He cannot make himself believe that the
surgeon is his parent and he refuses to leave his foster mother, who
thinks the world of him. Many complications arise, but in the end the
truth concerning the youth's identity is uncovered, and all ends happily
for the young son of a soldier.
In its original shape Mr. Alger intended this tale of a soldier's son
for a juvenile drama, and it is, therefore, full of dramatic situations.
But it was not used as a play, and when the gifted author of so many
boys' books had laid aside his pen forever the manuscript was placed in
the hands of the present writer, to be made over into such a book as
would evidently have met with the noted author's approval. The success
of other books by Mr. Alger, and finished by the present writer, has
been such that my one wish is that this story may meet with equal
commendation.
Arthur M. Winfield.
_February 16, 1901._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE ENCOUNTER ON THE BRIDGE, 1
II. DARCY GILBERT'S STORY, 9
III. A MYSTERY OF THE PAST, 16
IV. ON BOARD THE WRECK, 23
V. OLD BEN HAS A VISITOR, 30
VI. MRS. RUTHVEN'S STORY, 38
VII. A SETBACK FOR ST. JOHN, 47
VIII. THE HOME GUARDS OF OLDVILLE, 54
IX. DR. MACKEY INVESTIGATES, 63
X. THE PAPERS ON THE WRECK, 71
XI. MRS. RUTHVEN SPEAKS HER MIND, 78
XII. THE BOAT RACE ON THE BAY, 86
XIII. DR. MACKEY TELLS HIS STORY, 95
XIV. JACK SPEAKS HIS MIND, 105
XV. CAPTAIN JACK AT THE FRONT, 114
XVI. COLONEL STANTON'S VISIT, 125
XVII. A SCENE IN THE SUMMERHOUSE, 134
XVIII. MEETING OF THE COUSINS, 143
XIX. A SUMMONS FROM THE FRONT, 154
XX. THE STORM OF BATTLE AGAIN, 163
XXI. A LIVELY FIRE, 172
XXII. AFTER THE BATTLE, 180
XXIII. DR. MACKEY'S BOLD MOVE, 188
XXIV. THE HUNT FOR JACK, 197
XXV. A REMARKABLE REVELATION, 204
XXVI. DR. MACKEY SHOWS HIS HAND, 212
XXVII. COLONEL STANTON'S TALE, 220
XXVIII. IN THE HANDS OF THE GUERRILLAS, 228
XXIX. THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE, 235
XXX. BROUGHT TO BAY, 243
XXXI. FATHER AND SON--CONCLUSION, 252
YOUNG CAPTAIN JACK.
CHAPTER I.
THE ENCOUNTER ON THE BRIDGE.
"Get out of the way, boy, or I'll ride over you!"
"Wait a second, please, until I haul in this fish. He's such a beauty I
don't wish to lose him."
"Do you suppose I'm going to bother with your fish? Get out of the way,
I say!" And the man, who sat astride of a coal-black horse, shook his
hand threateningly. He was dressed in the uniform of a surgeon in the
Confederate Army, and his face was dark and crafty.
The boy, who was but fourteen and rather slenderly built, looked up in
surprise. He was seated on the side of a narrow bridge spanning a
mountain stream flowing into the ocean, and near him rested a basket
half-filled with fish. He had been on the point of hauling in another
fish--of extra size--but now his prize gave a sudden flip and
disappeared from view.
"Gone! and you made me miss him!" he cried, much vexed.
"Shut up about your fish and get out of the way!" stormed the man on the
horse. "Am I to be held up here all day by a mere boy?"
"Excuse me, but I have as much right on this bridge as you," answered
the boy, looking the man straight in the eyes.
"Have you indeed?"
"I have."
"Perhaps you think yourself of just as much importance as a surgeon in
the army, on an important mission."
"I didn't say that. I said I had just as much right on this bridge as
you. It's a public bridge."
"Bah! get out of the way and let me pass. I've wasted time enough on
you." The man tugged nervously at his heavy mustache. "Which is the way
to Tanner's Mill?"
To this the youth made no reply. Gathering up his fishing rod and his
basket, he stepped to the river bank and prepared to make another cast
into the water.
"I say, tell me the way to Tanner's Mill," repeated the man.
"I reckon you had better go elsewhere for your information," returned
the boy quietly, but with a faint smile playing over his handsome,
sunburned face.
"What, you young rascal, you won't tell me?" stormed the man.
"No, I won't. And I beg to let you know I am no rascal."
"You are a rascal," was the snappy reply. "Answer my question, or it
will be the worse for you," and now the man leaped to the ground and
advanced with clenched fists. Possibly he thought the youth would
retreat; if so, he was mistaken.
"Don't you dare to touch me, sir. I am not your slave."
"You'll answer my question."
"I will not."
"Why not?"
"Because you haven't treated me decently; that's why."
"You hold a mighty big opinion of yourself."
"If I do, that's my own business."
"Perhaps you are a Northern mudsill."
"No, I am just as loyal to the South as you or anybody."
"I wouldn't care to take your word on that point, youngster. I am on an
important mission, and if you sympathize with our South in this great
war you'll direct me to the short way to Tanner's Mill."
"Do they expect a fight at Tanner's Mill?"
"Don't bother me with questions. Show me the road, and I'll be off."
"Keep to the right and you'll be right," answered the youth, after a
pause, and then he resumed his fishing.
The man scowled darkly as he leaped again into the saddle. "How I would
love to warm you--if I had time," he muttered, then put spurs to his
steed and galloped off.
"So he is going to Tanner's Mill," mused the boy, when left alone. "If
they have a fight there it will be getting pretty close to home. I don't
believe mother will like that."
As will be surmised from the scene just described, Jack Ruthven was a
manly, self-reliant boy, not easily intimidated by those who would
browbeat him.
He lived in a large mansion, set back some distance from the river, upon
what was considered at that time one of the richest plantations in South
Carolina.
Mrs. Ruthven was a widow, having lost her husband, Colonel Martin
Ruthven, at the bloody battle of Gettysburg. She had one daughter,
Marion, a beautiful young lady of seventeen. Marion and Jack thought the
world of each other and were all but inseparable.
The sudden taking-off of the colonel had proved a great shock both to
the children and to Mrs. Ruthven, and for a long time the lady of the
house had lain on a bed of sickness, in consequence.
She was now around, but still weak and pale. Her one consolation was the
children, and she clung to them closer than ever.
On several occasions Jack had spoken of enlisting as a drummer boy, but
Mrs. Ruthven would not listen to it.
"No, no, Jack! I cannot spare you!" had been her words. "One gone out of
the family is enough."
And Marion, too, had clung to him, so that going away became almost an
impossibility, although he longed for the glories of a soldier's life,
with never a thought of all the hardships and sufferings such a life
entails.
The meeting with the Confederate surgeon had filled Jack's head once
more with visions of army life, and as he continued to fish he forgot
all about the unpleasant encounter, although he remembered that
repulsive face well. He was destined to meet the surgeon again, and
under most disagreeable circumstances.
"I wish mother would let me join the army," he thought, after hauling in
another fish. "I am sure our regiments need all the men they can get.
Somehow, we seem to be getting the worst of the fighting lately. I
wonder what would happen if the South should be beaten in this
struggle?"
Ten minutes passed, when a merry whistle was heard on the road and
another boy appeared, of about Jack's age.
"Hullo, Darcy!" cried Jack. "Come to help me fish?"
"I didn't know you were fishing," answered Darcy Gilbert, a youth who
lived on the plantation next to Jack. "Are you having good luck?"
"First-rate. I was getting ready to go home, but now you have come I'll
stay a while longer."
"Do, Jack; I hate to fish alone. But I say, Jack----" And then Darcy
broke off short.
"What were you going to say?"
"Oh, nothing!"
There was a minute of silence, during which Darcy baited his hook and
threw it in.
"You look as if you had something on your mind. Darcy," went on Jack,
after his friend had brought in a fine haul apparently without
appreciating the sport. "Did you meet a Confederate surgeon on the
road?"
"No, I came across the plantation. What of him?"
"He came this way, and we got into a regular row because I wouldn't
clear right out and give him the whole of the bridge."
"He didn't hit you, did he?"
"Not much! If he had I would have pitched into him, I can tell you, big
as he was!" And Jack's eyes flashed in a way that proved he meant what
he said.
"No, I didn't meet him, but I met St. John Ruthven, your cousin. Jack,
do you know that that young man is a regular bully, even if he is a
dandy?"
"Yes, I know it, Darcy."
"And he is down on you."
"I know that too. But why he dislikes me I don't know, excepting that I
don't like to see him paying his addresses to my sister Marion. Marion
is too good for such a man."
"Is he paying his addresses to her?"
"Well, he is with her every chance he can get."
"Does Marion like him?"
"Oh! I reckon she does in a way. He is always so nice to her--much nicer
than he has ever been to me."
"Has he ever spoken to you about yourself?" went on Darcy Gilbert, with
a peculiar look at Jack.
"Oh, yes! often."
"I mean about--well, about your past?" went on Darcy, with some
confusion.
"My past, Darcy? What is wrong about my past?"
"Nothing, I hope. But I didn't like what St. John Ruthven said about
you."
"But what did he say?"
"I don't know as I ought to tell you. I didn't believe him."
"But I want to know what he did say?" demanded Jack, throwing down his
fishing pole and coming up close to his friend.
"Well, if you must know, Jack, he said you were a nobody, that you
didn't belong to the Ruthven family at all, and that you would have to
go away some day," was the answer, which filled Jack with consternation.