by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER IX
A MORAL PHILOSOPHER.
The temporary berth was finished, the bedding put into it, and Christytook possession of it. For the present he had done all the thinking hecared to do, and he felt that his present duty was in action. He was aprisoner of war, and as such he was in disgrace in a loyal ship'scompany; at least, he felt that he was so under present circumstances.He was not disgusted at his failure to establish his identity, nordisheartened at the prospect before him. More than ever before in thetwo years of his experience as a naval officer, he realized that it washis duty to "Stand by the Union."
The watch below were all around him. Some of them were mending theirclothes, others were reading newspapers they had brought with them, butthe greater part of them were in squads engaged in talking about theevents of the war. The nearest group to Christy were conversing aboutthe two lieutenants who claimed to be the real officer ordered to thecommand of the Bronx. It seemed rather strange to the listener that theyshould know anything about the events which had happened in the secrecyof the captain's cabin, and this circumstance led him to believe that atleast one of the officers of the ship must be a confederate of Corny.
There was nothing necessarily secret in the proceedings in the cabin,and the stewards might have heard what was said in the ward room afterthe decision had been rendered, reporting it to members of the crew,who had circulated it as the latest news. At any rate, the group nearChristy were talking about the two officers who claimed to be LieutenantPassford. They spoke in low tones, and Christy could hardly hear whatthey said. His berth was ready for him, and he concluded to lie down init. He took no notice of the speakers, and soon pretended to be asleep.
"Do you know who is in that berth, Warton?" asked one of the four men,speaking in a low tone, but loud enough to enable Christy to hear him.
"I don't know; do you, Rockton?" replied the one addressed; and it wasevident to the listener that the men were at least persons of averageeducation with but little of the common sailor in it.
"I do; one of the officers told me all about it not half an hourago," answered Rockton. "The fellow who is asleep there is the otherPassford."
"Is that so? Then we mustn't talk here," added Warton, apparentlysomewhat alarmed. "Who told you so?"
"I said one of the officers; and you know as well as I do which one."
The speakers said no more, but leaving the locality near the berth, theymoved forward in a body. Christy was sorry he was not to hear any moreof the conversation; but he felt that he had made some progress in hiswork. He had obtained the names of two of the men, and ascertained thatone of the officers in the ward room was a Confederate. With thisinformation he could the more readily obtain more. Christy did not wishto sleep, and he felt that he could not afford to spend his time in thatway. He sat up in the berth, and wrote the two names he had heard in hispocket-diary, in order to make sure that he did not forget them. Whilehe was thus engaged Dr. Connelly came into the quarters of the crew.
"Well, Mr. Passford, are you all right?" asked the surgeon, as soon ashe discovered Christy in the dim light of the place.
"All right in every respect," replied the young officer cheerfully.
"You are not sea-sick?" inquired the doctor, laughing.
"Sea-sick! No, sir; I believe I never was sea-sick in my life."
"You are more fortunate than your cousin, for he is having quite a hardtime of it," added the doctor, who seemed to be very much amused thatthe future commander of the Bronx, who had been to sea so much, shouldbe afflicted in this manner.
"He was always sea-sick when he first went out, and it appears that hehas not yet got over the habit. He was so badly off on one occasion thatmy father thought of taking him on shore, and sending him back to Mobileby land."
"Do you refer to the lieutenant appointed to the command of the Bronx onour arrival in the Gulf?" asked Dr. Connelly, laughing.
"I do not; I am that person myself," replied Christy very decidedly. "Bythe way, I wonder that the commander did not subject the two claimantsto an examination in navigation and seamanship. It might have thrownsome light on the subject."
"Probably Captain Battleton did not think of that, taking it for grantedthat you were both sailors; but the other Mr. Passford is not incondition to undergo such an examination at present."
"I do not ask for it, though of course I am anxious to have the truthcome out, for just now I am in disgrace as an impostor, to say nothingof being regarded as an enemy of the Union," replied Christy. "Hewho occupies a stateroom in the steamer is my own cousin, and thepleasantest relations have always subsisted between our families. I havenothing against him personally, and I would do him a kindness as readilyas ever before in my life."
"But he has placed you in a very awkward position, Mr. Passford."
"I am willing to believe that he is doing his duty to his country, andhis grand mistake is in believing that the fraction of it in rebellionis his country."
"If you are the genuine Lieutenant Passford, in spite of the captain'sdecision, your cousin has told lies enough to-day to swamp a reprobate,to to say nothing of a Christian," added the surgeon, seating himself atthe side of the berth.
"I do not regard his statements as lies in any proper sense of the word,Dr. Connelly," replied Christy with considerable spirit. "I have hadoccasion to deceive the enemy on several occasions; and nearly two yearsago I looked up the morality of lying on the field of battle and itssurroundings. I think my father is as good a Christian man as draws thebreath of life, and I found that I simply held to his opinions."
"Your father is good authority," added the surgeon.
"I studied history a little in relation to this subject, for I wantedto know whether any lies I might tell in serving my country were tobe registered against me. I know that I would not tell a lie in theordinary relations of life; but I am sure that I should have been atraitor to the Union if I had told the enemy the simple truth on severaloccasions. I captured a schooner loaded with cotton by pretending to bewhat I was not. If it is justifiable to kill a man in war, it must bejustifiable to tell a lie to the enemy."
"I think you are right, Mr. Passford. You spoke of history."
"George Washington is regarded as one who could not tell a lie from thetime the little hatchet story had birth to the end of the Revolution. Weread that he strongly impressed Clinton with the belief that he intendedto attack New York; and the school history says that this deception wasso successfully practised, that Washington was some distance on his wayto Virginia before Clinton suspected where he was leading his army.
"Bancroft says that Clinton was deceived by letters which were writtento be intercepted. The books say that Washington used every art in hispower to deceive Clinton. He wrote letters containing the barefacedlie that he intended to attack New York when he intended to attackCornwallis. It was not a mere white lie, for he intended to deceive. Wedon't regard Washington as a liar, and he was not a liar in any propersense of the word. All the high-toned generals on both sides in thepresent war do not hesitate to deceive the enemy, for it is a part oftheir duty to do so. In my judgment, a lie that is acted is the same asa spoken lie."
"You are a moral philosopher, Mr. Passford," said the surgeon, laughingat the earnestness of the speaker.
"Hardly, doctor; I looked up the subject for my own benefit. I simplymean to say that I do not consider my cousin a liar," replied Christy,who was an earnest debater when he became warm in his subject.
Dr. Connelly left him, and made his tour of inspection among the men.The steamer was still rolling heavily, and the prisoner found himselfmore comfortable in his berth than on the lower deck. He had not yetlearned whether or not he was to remain confined in his presentquarters, and when the surgeon returned from his tour, he asked himto inquire of the captain in regard to his limits. He was informed thathe could go on deck for an hour in the forenoon, and an hour in theafternoon. It was nearly night and he did not avail himself of thispermission.
For the next three days it blew a gale, moderating at times, and thenpiping up again. To a sailor it was not bad weather, but Christy learnedfrom the surgeon that his cousin was confined to his berth during allthis time. The prisoner went on deck for the time permitted eachforenoon and afternoon. He had his eyes wide open all the time, on thelookout for anything that would afford him further information in regardto the plot in the midst of which he was living.
He identified Rockton and Warton, but not the other two who had formedthe group near his berth, on his first visit to the deck. On the fourthday out, he saw one of these men talking cautiously to the secondlieutenant. Following up this clew he satisfied himself that Mr.Galvinne was the black sheep in the officers' quarters. Corny came ondeck that day, for the sea was comparatively smooth, and took a seat onthe quarter-deck.
Christy did not go near him, but he watched him very closely. He had notlong to wait before Mr. Galvinne, who was then the officer of the deck,spoke to him, and they had quite a long conversation. He could not heara word of it; but the fact that they were intimate enough to hold whatappeared to be a confidential interview was enough to satisfy theprisoner that the second lieutenant was the principle confederate of hiscousin. How many of the crew were "packed" for the enterprise he couldform no idea.
The weather continued favorable till the end of the cruise, and then onthe eighth day the Vernon arrived near her destination off PensacolaBay. Thus far no attempt had been made to capture the steamer, and theplot was as dark as it had been in the beginning. Christy thought thatCorny was becoming somewhat nervous when the vessels of the squadronwere made out in the distance.
"There appear to be only three steamers in sight," said the captain, whohad come into the waist to observe the fleet.
"That is the flag-ship, I think, anchored the farthest from the shore,"replied Mr. Galvinne, to whom the remark had been addressed.
"I suppose that is the Bronx astern of her," added Captain Battleton."It is the smallest of the three, at any rate. Mr. Salisbury, you willrun directly for the flag-ship," he added to the executive officer onthe quarter-deck.
Christy recognized the Bronx if others did not, for none of the officershad been on this station before. He wondered if the present deceptionwas likely to be carried out to the accomplishment of the end theconspirators had in view. He could see nothing to prevent itsaccomplishment.
"I must ask you to report below, Mr. Passford," said the captain rathersternly; and perhaps he did not care to be charged with over-indulgenceof his prisoner.
He bowed submissively, and went to his berth in the men's quarters. Theanchor had been cast loose, and the cable put in condition to run out.Christy had hardly reached his berth before he heard the rattle of thechain, and the voyage was ended.