Marcy the Blockade Runner

by Harry Castlemon

  CHAPTER VI.

  RUNNING THE BLOCKADE.

  The gang of 'longshoremen, which was quickly sent on board the _Hattie_by the Englishman to whom we referred in the last chapter, worked tosuch good purpose that in just forty-eight hours from the time her lineswere made fast to the wharf, the blockade-runner was ready for herreturn trip. Meanwhile Marcy Gray and the rest of the crew had little todo but roam about the town, spending their money and mingling with thecitizens, the most of whom were as good Confederates as could have beenfound anywhere in the Southern States. Marcy afterward told his motherthat if there were any Union people on the island they lived in theAmerican Consulate, from whose roof floated the Stars and Stripes. Marcywas both astonished and shocked to find that nearly every one with whomhe conversed believed that the Union was already a thing of the past,and that the rebellious States never could be whipped. One day he spoketo Beardsley about it, while the latter was pacing his quarter-decksmoking his after-dinner cigar.

  "If those English sailors I was talking with a little while ago are sovery anxious to see the Union destroyed, I don't see why they don't shipunder the Confederate flag," said he. "But what has England got againstthe United States, anyway?"

  "Man alive, she's got everything against 'em," replied the captain, in asurprised tone. "Didn't they lick old England twice, and ain't theYankee flag the only one to which a British army ever surrendered?You're mighty right. She'd be glad to see the old Union busted into amillion pieces; but she's too big a coward to come out and help us openand above board, and so she's helping on the sly. I wish the Yankeeswould do something to madden her, but they're too sharp. They have giveup the _Herald_--the brig I was telling you about that sailed fromWilmington just before you came back from your furlong. She was aBritisher, yon know, and a warship took her prisoner; but the courtsallowed that Wilmington wasn't blockaded at all, except on paper, andordered her to be released. I only wish the Yankees had had the pluck tohold fast to her."

  Marcy's thoughts had often reverted to the capture of the brig _Herald_and to Captain Beardsley's expressed wish that the act might lead to anopen rupture between the United States and England, and he was glad tolearn that there was to be no trouble on that score. But England couldnot long keep her meddlesome fingers out of our pie. She did all shedared to aid the Confederacy, and when the war was ended, had the fun ofhanding over a good many millions of dollars to pay for the Americanvessels that British built and British armed steamers had destroyed uponthe high seas.

  "I saw you bring aboard some little bundles a while ago," continuedBeardsley. "What was in 'em?"

  "One of them contained two woolen dresses I bought for mother, and inthe others there was nothing but medicine," said Marcy. "Woolen goodswill be worth money by and by."

  "Oh, yes; they'll run up a little. Things always do in war times. Themoney them medicines cost, you will be able to turn over about threetimes when we get back to Newbern. You'll clear about three hundreddollars, when you might just as well have made five thousand, if you'dtook my advice and put in your seventeen hundred, as I wanted you todo."

  Marcy made no reply, for he had grown weary of telling the captain thathe intended to use that money for another purpose.

  During the two days they remained in port two large steamers came in,and on the way out they passed as many more, both of which showed theEnglish colors when Marcy, in obedience to Beardsley's orders, ran theConfederate emblem up to the _Hattie's_ peak.

  "Everything that's aboard them ships is meant for us," said CaptainBeardsley. "I know it, because there never was no such steamers sailinginto this port before the war. Them fellows over the water are sendingin goods faster'n we can take 'em out. Go aloft, Marcy, and holler theminute you see anything that looks like a sail or a smoke."

  When the pilot had been discharged and the schooner filled away forhome, her crew settled down to business again, and every man becamealert and watchful. Those dreadful night runs on the way down Marcyalways thought of with a shiver, and now he had to go through with themagain; and one would surely have ended his career as a blockade-runner,for a while at least, had it not been for the credulity or stupidity ofa Union naval captain. This particular night, for a wonder, was clear;the stars shone brightly, and Marcy Gray, who sat on the cross treeswith the night-glass in his hand, had been instructed to use extravigilance. There was a heavy ground swell on, showing that there hadrecently been a blow somewhere, and the schooner had just breeze enoughto give her steerage way, with nothing to spare. Marcy was thinking ofhome, and wondering how much longer it would be necessary for him tolead this double life, when he saw something that called him back toearth again. He took a short look at it through his glass, and thensaid, in tones just loud enough to reach the ears of those below:

  "On deck, there."

  "Ay, ay!" came the answer. "What's to do?"

  "Lights straight ahead, sir."

  "Throw a tarpaulin over that binnacle," commanded Beardsley; and amoment later Marcy saw him coming up. He gave the glass into his handsand moved aside so that the captain could find a place to stand on thecrosstrees. Either the latter's eyes were sharper than Marcy's, or elsehe took time to make a more critical examination of the approachingvessel, for presently he hailed the deck in low but excited tones.

  "I'm afraid we're in for it, Morgan," said he. "I do for a fact. Tumbleup here and see what you think of her. I can make out that she is aheavy steamer," he added, as Marcy moved to the other side of the mast,and the mate came up and stood beside the captain, "and if she can'tmake us out, too, every soul aboard of her must be blind. Our whitecanvas must show a long ways in this bright starlight. What is she?"

  "I give it up," replied the mate.

  "She is coming straight for us, ain't she?"

  "Looks like it. Suppose you change the course a few points and then wecan tell for a certainty."

  Captain Beardsley thought this a suggestion worth acting upon. He sentdown the necessary orders to the second mate, who had been left incharge of the deck, and in a few minutes the schooner was standing offon the other tack, and rolling fearfully as she took the ground swellalmost broadside on. Then there came an interval of anxiety andsuspense, during which Marcy Gray strained his eyes until he saw a dozenlights dancing before them instead of two, as there ought to have been,and at last Captain Beardsley's worst fears were confirmed. The relativeposition of the red and green lights ahead slowly changed until theywere almost in line with each other, and Marcy was sailor enough to knowwhat that meant. The steamer had caught sight of the _Hattie_, waskeeping watch of her, and had altered her course to intercept her. Marcybegan to tremble.

  "I know how a prison looks when viewed from the outside," he said tohimself. "And unless something turns up in our favor, it will not bemany days before I shall know how one looks on the inside."

  It was plain that his two companions were troubled by the same gloomythoughts, for he heard Beardsley say, in a husky voice:

  "She ain't holding a course for nowhere, neither for the Indies nor theCape; she shifted her wheel when we did, and that proves that she's aYankee cruiser and nothing else. See any signs of a fresheninganywhere?"

  "Nary freshening," replied the mate, with a hasty glance around thehorizon. "There ain't a cloud as big as your fist in sight."

  Of course Beardsley used some heavy words--he always did when things didnot go to suit him--and then he said, as if he were almost on the pointof crying with vexation:

  "It's too bad for them cowardly Yankees to come pirating around herejust at this time when we've got a big fortune in our hands. Them goodswe've got below is worth a cool hundred thousand dollars in Newbern, ifthey're worth anything, and my commission will be somewhere in theneighborhood of twenty-five per cent.; dog-gone it all. Can't we donothing to give her the slip? You ain't fitten to be a mate if you can'tgive a word of advice in a case like this."

  "And if I wanted to be sassy I might s
ay that you ain't fit to command aship if you can't get her out of trouble when you get her into it. Therecan't no advice be given that I can see, unless it be to chuck the cargoover the side. I reckon that would be my way if I was master of the_Hattie._

  "But what good would that do?" exclaimed Beardsley. "Where are mydockyments to prove that I am an honest trader? And even if I had some,and the cargo was safe out of the hold and sunk to the bottom, Icouldn't say that I am in ballast, because I ain't got a pound of anysort of ballast to show. Oh, I tell you we're gone coons, Morgan. Do theYankees put striped clothes on their prisoners when they shove 'em intojail, I wonder?"

  The mate, who had come to the wise conclusion that the only thing hecould do was to make the best of the situation, did not answer thecaptain's last question. All he said was:

  "If you dump the cargo overboard the Yankees won't get it!"

  "But they'll get my schooner, won't they?" Beardsley almost shouted."And do you reckon that I'm going to give them Newbern fellows thesatisfaction of knowing that I saved their goods by sending them to thebottom? Not by a great sight. If that cruiser gets my property she'llget their'n, too. I don't reckon we'd have time to clear the holdanyway."

  Marcy Gray had thought so all along. The lights were coming up at a handgallop, and already they were much nearer than they seemed to be, forthe shape of the steamer could be made out by the unaided eye. WhenBeardsley ceased speaking, the sound of a gong was clearly heard, and aminute later the steamer blew her whistle.

  "What did I tell you, Morgan?" whined the captain. "She's slowing up,and that whistle means for us to show lights. The next thing we shallsee will be a small boat coming off. I hope the swell'll turn it upsidedown and drown every mother's son of her crew that--On deck, there," heshouted, in great consternation. "Get out lights, and be quick about it.She'll be on top of us directly."

  "She can see us as well without lights as she can with 'em," growled themate, as he backed down slowly from the crosstrees. "I don't care if shecuts us down. I'd about as soon go to the bottom as to be shut up in aYankee prison."

  Marcy Gray was almost as badly frightened as Beardsley seemed to be. Thesteamer was dangerously near, and her behavior and the schooner's provedthe truth of what he had read somewhere, that "two vessels on the oceanseemed to exercise a magnetic influence upon each other, so often docollisions occur when it looks as though there might be room for all thenavies of the world to pass in review." So it was now. The two vesselsdrifted toward each other, broadside on, and the breeze was so lightthat the _Hattie_ was almost helpless; but the stranger was wellhandled; her huge paddle wheels, which up to this moment had hungmotionless in the water, began to turn backward, and presently Marcy letgo his desperate clutch upon the stay to which he was clinging, and drewa long breath of relief. Whatever else the cruiser might do to the_Hattie_ she did not mean to send her to the bottom.

  "Schooner ahoy!" came the hail.

  "On board the steamer," answered Captain Beardsley, who had been alloweda little leisure in which to recover his wits and courage.

  "What schooner is that?"

  "The _Hattie_ of New York," shouted Beardsley. "Homeward bound fromHavana with a cargo of sugar. Who are you?"

  "The United States supply steamer _Adelaide._ What are you doing ahundred miles eastward of your course, and showing no lights?" asked thevoice; and Marcy fully expected that the next words would be, "I'll senda boat aboard of you."

  "I'm afraid of privateers," was Beardsley's response. "I heered therewas some afloat, and I can't afford to fall in with any of 'em, kaseeverything I've got on 'arth is this schooner. If I lose her I'mteetotally ruined."

  "Well, then, why don't you hold in toward Hatteras, where you will besafe? There's a big fleet in there, and in a few days there'll bemore."

  "You don't tell me! Much obleeged for the information! I will put thatway as fast as this breeze will take me. Seen anything suspicious? No?Then good-by and farewell."

  Beardsley shouted out some orders, the schooner filled away so as topass under the steamer's stern, and to Marcy's unbounded astonishmentshe was permitted to go in peace. The stranger's gong sounded again, andshe also went on her way. There was scarcely a word spoken above awhisper until her lights had disappeared; then the schooner's ownlanterns were hauled down, her head was turned to the point of thecompass toward which it had been directed when the steamer was firstdiscovered, and Captain Beardsley was himself again.

  "By gum!" said he, striding up and down the deck, pausing now and thento go through the undignified performance of shipping his mates on theback. "_By_ gum, I done it, didn't I! What sort of a Yankee do youreckon I'd make, Marcy? I talked just like one--through the nose, youknow. Pretty good acting; don't you think so?"

  "It was good enough to save the schooner," replied Marcy.

  "And that was what I meant to do if I could. I wouldn't have give adollar for my chances of getting shet of that steamer till she began toback away to keep from running us down, and then something told me thatI'd be all right if I put a bold face on the matter. And that's what Idone. Oh, I'm a sharp one, and it takes a better man than a Yankee toget ahead of me. I was really much obliged to him for telling me of thatblockading fleet at Hatteras, for now I'll know better than to go nighthat place. Hold the old course, Morgan, and that will take us out ofthe way of coasters and cruisers, both. I'll go below and turn in for ashort nap."

  "If I should follow this business until I am gray-headed I don't think Ishould ever again have so narrow an escape," said Marcy to himself, ashe too went below to take a little needed rest. "Why, it seems like adream; and somehow I can hardly bring myself to believe it reallyhappened. If the Yankees talk the way Captain Beardsley did, all I cansay for them is that they are queer folks."

  It seemed as though the schooner's crew could never get through talkingabout their short interview with the supply steamer, for every one ofthem had given up all hope of escape, and looked for nothing else but tosee an armed boat put off to test the truth of Captain Beardsley'sstatements regarding the _Hattie_ and her cargo. The mate, Morgan, wascompletely bewildered. He could not understand how a man who had showeda disposition to cry when he saw his vessel in danger, could be so cooland even impudent when the critical moment came.

  In due time all thoughts of the enemy they had left astern gave way tospeculations concerning those they might find before them. The latitudeof Hatteras Inlet was thought to be particularly dangerous; but that waspassed in the night and Marcy breathed easily again, until Beardsleybegan to take a slant in toward the shore, and then there was anotherseason of suspense. But the day drew to a close without bringing anysuspicious smoke or sail to add to their fears, and when darkness cameCrooked Inlet was not more than thirty miles away. If the strong andfavoring wind that then filled the schooner's sails held out, her keelwould be plowing the waters of the Sound by midnight or a little later,and Captain Beardsley's commission would be safe. At least that was whatthe latter told Marcy; and, while he talked, he jingled some keys in hispocket with as much apparent satisfaction as though they were thedollars he hoped to put there in a few days more. But the old sayingthat there is many a slip came very near holding true in Beardsley'scase. The latter was so certain that he had left all danger behind him,and that he had nothing more to do but sail in at his leisure and landhis cargo when he got ready, that he did not think it worth while to manthe crosstrees after nightfall; consequently there was no watchfullookout to warn him of the suspicious looking object that moved slowlyout of the darkness a mile or so ahead, and waited for him to come up.About eleven o'clock Marcy Gray strolled forward and climbed out uponthe bowsprit to see if he could discover any signs of the land, which,according to his calculations, ought not to be far distant.

  "I might as well be out here as anywhere else," he thought, pulling outthe night-glass, which he had taken the precaution to bring with him."Of course the skipper will run her through without any aid from me, ashe did before, and so--what in the world
is that? Looks like a smoothround rock; but I know it isn't, for there's nothing of that sort aboutthis Inlet."

  Marcy took another look through the glass, then backed quickly butnoiselessly down from his perch and ran aft to the quarter-deck. Thecaptain was standing there joking with his mates, and congratulatingthem and himself on the safe and profitable run the _Hattie_ had made;and as Marcy came up he threw back his head and gave utterance to ahoarse laugh, which, in the stillness of the night, could have beenheard half a mile away.

  "Captain! Captain!" exclaimed Marcy, in great excitement, "for goodness'sake don't do that again! Keep still! There's a ship's long boat filledwith men right ahead of us."

  It seemed to Marcy that Beardsley wilted visibly when this astoundingpiece of news was imparted to him. His hearty laugh was broken short offin the middle, so to speak, and when turned so that the light from thebinnacle shone upon his face, Marcy saw that it was as white as asheet.

  "No!" he managed to gasp.

  "Why, boy, you're scared to death," said one of the mates, rathercontemptuously. "Where's the ship for the long boat to come from?"

  "I don't know anything about that," answered Marcy hurriedly. "I onlytell you what I saw with my own eyes. Here's the glass. Captain. Gofor'ard and take a look for yourself."

  The captain snatched the glass with almost frantic haste and ran towardthe bow, followed by the mates and all the rest of the crew, with theexception of the man at the wheel. With trembling hands Beardsley raisedthe binoculars, but almost immediately took them down again to say, infrightened tones:

  "For the first time in my life I have missed my reckoning. We're lost,and the Yankee fleet may be within less than a mile of us. Take a look,Morgan. I never saw that rock before."

  "But I tell you it isn't a rock," protested Marcy. "It is a boat, andshe's lying head on so that she won't show as plainly as she would ifshe lay broadside to us. Do you see those long black streaks on eachside? Those are oars, and they were in motion when I first saw them."

  The mate was so long in making his observations that Marcy grewimpatient, and wondered at his stupidity. He could see without the aidof a glass that it was a boat and nothing else; and more than that, theschooner had by this time drawn so near her that he could make out twosuspicious objects in her bow--one he was sure was a howitzer, and theother looked very like the upright, motionless figure of a blue-jacket,awaiting the order from the officer in command to pull the lock-string.An instant later a second figure arose, as if from the stern-sheets, andthe command came clear and distinct:

  "Heave to, or we'll blow you out of the water!"

  "Now I hope you are satisfied!" exclaimed Marcy.

  He expected to see Beardsley wilt again; but he did nothing of the sort.It required an emergency to bring out what there was in him, and when hesaw that he must act, he did it without an instant's hesitation.

  "Lay aft, all hands!" was the order he gave. "Marcy, stand by to watchthe buoys in the Inlet. Morgan, go to the wheel and hold her just as sheis. Don't luff so much as a hair's breadth. We'll run them Yankees down.It's our only chance."

  "And a very slim one it is," thought Marcy, as he took the glass fromthe mate's hand and directed it toward the point where he thought theentrance of the Inlet ought to be. "The cruiser to which this boatbelongs can't be far away, and she will come up the minute she hears theroar of the howitzer."

  "Heave to, or we'll sink you!" came the order, in louder and moreemphatic tones.

  "Starboard a spoke or two. Steady at that," said Beardsley, turningabout and addressing the man who had been stationed in the waist to passhis commands. "Ten to one they'll miss us, but all the same I wish Iknew how heavy them guns of their'n is."

  "They have but one," replied Marcy, wondering at the captain's coolness."Can't you see it there in the bow?"

  "Well, if it's a twenty-four pounder, like them old ones of our'n, andthey hit us at the water-line, they'll tear a hole in us as big as abarn door."

  All this while the schooner had been bearing swiftly down upon thelaunch, and when the officer in command of her began to see throughBeardsley's little plan, he at once proceeded to set in motion one ofhis own that was calculated to defeat it. His howitzer was loaded with afive-second shrapnel, and this he fired at the schooner at a point-blankrange of less than a hundred yards. He couldn't miss entirely at thatshort distance, but the missile flew too high to hull theblockade-runner. It struck the flying jib-boom, breaking it short offand rendering that sail useless, glanced and splintered the rail closeby the spot where the captain and his pilot were standing, wentshrieking off over the water, and finally exploding an eighth of a mileastern. The skipper and Marcy were both prostrated by a splinter sixfeet long and four inches thick that was torn from the rail; but theyscrambled to their feet again almost as soon as they touched the deck,and when they looked ahead, fully expecting to find the launch under theschooner's fore-foot and on the point of being run down, they saw anastonishing as well as a most discouraging sight. The boat was fartheraway than she was before, and her whole length could be seen now, fornot only was she broadside on, but the darkness above and around her,which had hitherto rendered her shape and size somewhat indistinct, waslighted up by a bright glare that shot up from somewhere amidships, andthe sound of escaping steam could be plainly heard.

  CAPTAIN BEARDSLEY SURPRISED.]

  "Oh, my shoulder! Dog-gone it all, my shoulder!" cried Beardsley,placing the instep of his left foot behind his right knee and hoppingabout as if it were the lower portion of his anatomy that had beeninjured instead of the upper. "She's got a steam ingine aboard of her,and them oars of her'n was only meant for snooping up and down the coastquiet and still' so't nobody couldn't hear 'em. We're gone this time,Morgan; and I tell you that for a fact!"

  The moment Marcy Gray recovered his feet he made an effort to pick upthe glass that had fallen from his grasp, but to his surprise, his lefthand refused to obey his will. When he made a second attempt, he foundthat he could not move his hand at all unless he raised his arm at theshoulder. He was not conscious of much pain, although he afterward saidthat his arm felt a good deal as it did when Dick Graham accidentallyhit his biceps with a swiftly pitched ball. But his right hand was allright, and with it he snatched up the glass and levied it at the Inlet,which to his great delight he could plainly see straight ahead.

  "Mind what you are about, Captain," said he, as soon as he could inducethe man to stand still and listen to him. "That first buoy is a blackone, and you want to leave it to port. If you keep on as you are holdingnow you will leave it to starboard, and that will run you hard and fastaground."

  "Don't make much odds which way we go," whined Beardsley, holding fastto his elbow with one hand and to his shoulder with the other. "Justlook what them Yankees is a doing!"

  The captain became utterly disheartened when he saw that his plan forsinking the launch and making good his escape into the Inlet was goingto end in failure, and Marcy did not blame him for it. The officer incommand of the small boat, whoever he might be, was a determined andactive fellow; his crew were picked men; his little craft was a"trotter," and he knew how to handle both of them. He had been sent outby one of the blockading squadron to patrol the coast and watch for justsuch vessels as the _Hattie_ was, and although he had steam up all thewhile, he used his twenty-four muffled oars, twelve on a side, as hismotive power; and this enabled him to slip along the coast withoutmaking the least sound to betray his presence. As luck would have it, hehad not discovered Crooked Inlet. If he had, he would have lifted thebuoys, and it might have led to extra watchfulness on the part of theblockading fleet. But he had discovered the _Hattie_ and his actionsproved that he did not mean to let her escape if he could help it.