The Military Megapack

by Harry Harrison

  For reply, Crockston gave a decided grunt, but Mr. Mathew had hardly turned his back when the sailor muttered some incomprehensible words, and then cried:

  “What on earth did he say about the mainmast?”

  At this moment his nephew, John Stiggs, joined him on the forecastle.

  “Well, my good Crockston,” said he.

  “It’s all right, all right,” said the seaman, with a forced smile; “there is only one thing, this wretched boat shakes herself like a dog coming out of the water, and it makes my head confused.”

  “Dear Crockston, and it is for my sake.”

  “For you and him,” replied Crockston, “but not a word about that, John. Trust in God, and He will not forsake you.”

  So saying, John Stiggs and Crockston went to the sailor’s berth, but the sailor did not lie down before he had seen the young novice comfortably settled in the narrow cabin which he had got for him.

  The next day, at six o’clock in the morning, Crockston got up to go to his place; he went on deck, where the first officer ordered him to go up into the rigging, and keep good watch.

  At these words the sailor seemed undecided what to do; then, making up his mind, he went towards the bows of the Dolphin.

  “Well, where are you off to now?” cried Mr. Mathew.

  “Where you sent me,” answered Crockston.

  “I told you to go to the mainmast.”

  “And I am going there,” replied the sailor, in an unconcerned tone, continuing his way to the poop.

  “Are you a fool?” cried Mr. Mathew, impatiently; “you are looking for the bars of the main on the foremast. You are like a cockney, who doesn’t know how to twist a cat-o’-nine-tails, or make a splice. On board what ship can you have been, man? The mainmast, stupid, the mainmast!”

  The sailors who had run up to hear what was going on burst out laughing when they saw Crockston’s disconcerted look, as he went back to the forecastle.

  “So,” said he, looking up the mast, the top of which was quite invisible through the morning mists; “so, am I to climb up here?”

  “Yes,” replied Mr. Mathew, “and hurry yourself! By St. Patrick, a Federal ship would have time to get her bowsprit fast in our rigging before that lazy fellow could get to his post. Will you go up?”

  Without a word, Crockston got on the bulwarks with some difficulty; then he began to climb the rigging with most visible awkwardness, like a man who did not know how to make use of his hands or feet. When he had reached the topgallant, instead of springing lightly on to it, he remained motionless, clinging to the ropes, as if he had been seized with giddiness. Mr. Mathew, irritated by his stupidity, ordered him to come down immediately.

  “That fellow there,” said he to the boatswain, “has never been a sailor in his life. Johnston, just go and see what he has in his bundle.”

  The boatswain made haste to the sailor’s berth.

  In the meantime Crockston was with difficulty coming down again, but, his foot having slipped, he slid down the rope he had hold of, and fell heavily on the deck.

  “Clumsy blockhead! land-lubber!” cried Mr. Mathew, by way of consolation. “What did you come to do on board the Dolphin! Ah! you entered as an able seaman, and you cannot even distinguish the main from the foremast! I shall have a little talk with you.”

  Crockston made no attempt to speak; he bent his back like a man resigned to anything he might have to bear; just then the boatswain returned.

  “This,” said he to the first officer, “is all that I have found; a suspicious portfolio with letters.”

  “Give them here,” said Mr. Mathew. “Letters with Federal stamps! Mr. Halliburtt, of Boston! An Abolitionist! a Federalist! Wretch! you are nothing but a traitor, and have sneaked on board to betray us! Never mind, you will be paid for your trouble with the cat-o’-nine-tails! Boatswain, call the Captain, and you others just keep an eye on that rogue there.”

  Crockston received these compliments with a hideous grimace, but he did not open his lips. They had fastened him to the capstan, and he could move neither hand nor foot.

  A few minutes later James Playfair came out of his cabin and went to the forecastle, where Mr. Mathew immediately acquainted him with the details of the case.

  “What have you to say?” asked James Playfair, scarcely able to restrain his anger.

  “Nothing,” replied Crockston.

  “And what did you come on board my ship for?”

  “Nothing.”

  “And what do you expect from me now?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Who are you? An American, as letters seem to prove?” Crockston did not answer.

  “Boatswain,” said James Playfair, “fifty lashes with the cat-o’-nine-tails to loosen his tongue. Will that be enough, Crockston?”

  “It will remain to be seen,” replied John Stiggs’ uncle without moving a muscle.

  “Now then, come along, men,” said the boatswain.

  At this order, two strong sailors stripped Crockston of his woollen jersey; they had already seized the formidable weapon, and laid it across the prisoner’s shoulders, when the novice, John Stiggs, pale and agitated, hurried on deck.

  “Captain!” exclaimed he.

  “Ah! the nephew!” remarked James Playfair.

  “Captain,” repeated the novice, with a violent effort to steady his voice, “I will tell you what Crockston does not want to say. I will hide it no longer; yes, he is American, and so am I; we are both enemies of the slave-holders, but not traitors come on board to betray the Dolphin into the hands of the Federalists.”

  “What did you come to do, then?” asked the Captain, in a severe tone, examining the novice attentively. The latter hesitated a few seconds before replying, then he said, “Captain, I should like to speak to you in private.”

  Whilst John Stiggs made this request, James Playfair did not cease to look carefully at him; the sweet young face of the novice, his peculiarly gentle voice, the delicacy and whiteness of his hands, hardly disguised by paint, the large eyes, the animation of which could not bide their tenderness—all this together gave rise to a certain suspicion in the Captain’s mind. When John Stiggs had made his request, Playfair glanced fixedly at Crockston, who shrugged his shoulders; then he fastened a questioning look on the novice, which the latter could not withstand, and said simply to him, “Come.”

  John Stiggs followed the Captain on to the poop, and then James Playfair, opening the door of his cabin, said to the novice, whose cheeks were pale with emotion, “Be so kind as to walk in, miss.”

  John, thus addressed, blushed violently, and two tears rolled involuntarily down his cheeks.

  “Don’t be alarmed, miss,” said James Playfair, in a gentle voice, “but be so good as to tell me how I come to have the honour of having you on board?”

  The young girl hesitated a moment, then, reassured by the Captain’s look, she made up her mind to speak.

  “Sir,” said she, “I wanted to join my father at Charleston; the town is besieged by land and blockaded by sea. I knew not how to get there, when I heard that the Dolphin meant to force the blockade. I came on board your ship, and I beg you to forgive me if I acted without your consent, which you would have refused me.”

  “Certainly,” said James Playfair.

  “I did well, then, not to ask you,” resumed the young girl, with a firmer voice.

  The Captain crossed his arms, walked round his cabin, and then came back.

  “What is your name?” said he.

  “Jenny Halliburtt.”

  “Your father, if I remember rightly the address on the letters, is he not from Boston?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And a Northerner is thus in a southern town in the thickest of the war?”

  “My father is a prisoner; he was at Charleston when the first shot of the Civil War was fired, and the troops of the Union driven from Fort Sumter by the Confederates. My father’s opinions exposed him to the hatred of the slavist
part, and by the order of General Beauregard he was imprisoned. I was then in England, living with a relation who has just died, and left alone, with no help but that of Crockston, our faithful servant, I wished to go to my father and share his prison with him.”

  “What was Mr. Halliburtt, then?” asked James Playfair.

  “A loyal and brave journalist,” replied Jenny proudly, one of the noblest editors of the Tribune, and the one who was the boldest in defending the cause of the negroes.”

  “An Abolitionist,” cried the Captain angrily; “one of those men who, under the vain pretence of abolishing slavery, have deluged their country with blood and ruin.”

  “Sir!” replied Jenny Halliburtt, growing pale, “you are insulting my father; you must not forget that I stand alone to defend him.”

  The young Captain blushed scarlet; anger mingled with shame struggled in his breast; perhaps he would have answered the young girl, but he succeeded in restraining himself, and, opening the door of the cabin, he called “Boatswain!”

  The boatswain came to him directly.

  “This cabin will henceforward belong to Miss Jenny Halliburtt. Have a cot made ready for me at the end of the poop; that’s all I want.”

  The boatswain looked with a stupefied stare at the young novice addressed in a feminine name, but on a sign from James Playfair he went out.

  “And now, miss, you are at home,” said the young Captain of the Dolphin. Then he retired.

  CHAPTER IV

  CROCKSTON’S TRICK

  It was not long before the whole crew knew Miss Halliburtt’s story, which Crockston was no longer hindered from telling. By the Captain’s orders he was released from the capstan, and the cat-o’-nine-tails returned to its Place.

  “A pretty animal,” said Crockston, “especially when it shows its velvety paws.”

  As soon as he was free, he went down to the sailors’ berths, found a small portmanteau, and carried it to Miss Jenny; the young girl was now able to resume her feminine attire, but she remained in her cabin, and did not again appear on deck.

  As for Crockston, it was well and duly agreed that, as he was no more a sailor than a horse-guard, he should be exempt from all duty on board.

  In the meanwhile the Dolphin, with her twin screws cutting the waves, sped rapidly across the Atlantic, and there was nothing now to do but keep a strict look-out. The day following the discovery of Miss Jenny’s identity, James Playfair paced the deck at the poop with a rapid step; he had made no attempt to see the young girl and resume the conversation of the day before.

  Whilst he was walking to and fro, Crockston passed him several times, looking at him askant with a satisfied grin. He evidently wanted to speak to the Captain, and at last his persistent manner attracted the attention of the latter, who said to him, somewhat impatiently:

  “How now, what do you want? You are turning round me like a swimmer round a buoy: when are you going to leave off?”

  “Excuse me, Captain,” answered Crockston, winking, “I wanted to speak to you.”

  “Speak, then.”

  “Oh, it is nothing very much. I only wanted to tell you frankly that you are a good fellow at bottom.”

  “Why at bottom?”

  “At bottom and surface also.”

  “I don’t want your compliments.”

  “I am not complimenting you. I shall wait to do that when you have gone to the end.”

  “To what end?”

  “To the end of your task.”

  “Ah! I have a task to fulfil?”

  “Decidedly, you have taken the young girl and myself on board; good! You have given up your cabin to Miss Halliburtt; good! You released me from the cat-o’-nine-tails; nothing could be better. You are going to take us straight to Charleston; that’s delightful, but it is not all.”

  “How not all?” cried James Playfair, amazed at Crockston’s boldness.

  “No, certainly not,” replied the latter, with a knowing look, “the father is prisoner there.”

  “Well, what about that?”

  “Well, the father must be rescued.”

  “Rescue Miss Halliburtt’s father?”

  “Most certainly, and it is worth risking something for such a noble man and courageous citizen as he.”

  “Master Crockston,” said James Playfair, frowning, “I am not in the humour for your jokes, so have a care what you say.”

  “You misunderstand me, Captain,” said the American. “I am not joking in the least, but speaking quite seriously. What I have proposed may at first seem very absurd to you; when you have thought it over, you will see that you cannot do otherwise.”

  “What, do you mean that I must deliver Mr. Halliburtt?”

  “Just so. You can demand his release of General Beauregard, who will not refuse you.”

  “But if he does refuse me?”

  “In that case,” replied Crockston, in a deliberate tone, “we must use stronger measures, and carry off the prisoner by force.”

  “So,” cried James Playfair, who was beginning to get angry, “so, not content with passing through the Federal fleets and forcing the blockade of Charleston, I must run out to sea again from under the cannon of the forts, and this to deliver a gentleman I know nothing of, one of those Abolitionists whom I detest, one of those journalists who shed ink instead of their blood!”

  “Oh, it is but a cannon-shot more or less!” added Crockston.

  “Master Crockston,” said James Playfair, “mind what I say: if ever you mention this affair again to me, I will send you to the hold for the rest of the passage, to teach you manners.”

  Thus saying, the Captain dismissed the American, who went off murmuring, “Ah, well, I am not altogether displeased with this conversation: at any rate, the affair is broached; it will do, it will do!”

  James Playfair had hardly meant it when he said an Abolitionist whom I detest; he did not in the least side with the Federals, but he did not wish to admit that the question of slavery was the predominant reason for the civil war of the United States, in spite of President Lincoln’s formal declaration. Did he, then, think that the Southern States, eight out of thirty-six, were right in separating when they had been voluntarily united? Not so; he detested the Northerners, and that was all; he detested them as brothers separated from the common family—true Englishmen—who had thought it right to do what he, James Playfair, disapproved of with regard to the United States: these were the political opinions of the Captain of the Dolphin. But, more than this, the American war interfered with him personally, and he had a grudge against those who had caused this war; one can understand, then, how he would receive a proposition to deliver an Abolitionist, thus bringing down on him the Confederates, with whom he pretended to do business.

  However, Crockston’s insinuation did not fail to disturb him; he cast the thought from him, but it returned unceasingly to his mind, and when Miss Jenny came on deck the next day for a few minutes, he dared not look her in the face.

  And really it was a great pity, for this young girl, with the fair hair and sweet, intelligent face, deserved to be looked at by a young man of thirty. But James felt embarrassed in her presence; he felt that this charming creature who had been educated in the school of misfortune possessed a strong and generous soul; he understood that his silence towards her inferred a refusal to acquiesce in her dearest wishes; besides, Miss Jenny never looked out for James Playfair, neither did she avoid him. Thus for the first few days they spoke little or not at all to each other. Miss Halliburtt scarcely ever left her cabin, and it is certain she would never have addressed herself to the Captain of the Dolphin if it had not been for Crockston’s strategy, which brought both parties together.

  The worthy American was a faithful servant of the Halliburtt family; he had been brought up in his master’s house, and his devotion knew no bounds. His good sense equalled his courage and energy, and, as has been seen, he had a way of looking things straight in the face. He was very seldom discouraged, an
d could generally find a way out of the most intricate dangers with a wonderful skill.

  This honest fellow had taken it into his head to deliver Mr. Halliburtt, to employ the Captain’s ship, and the Captain himself for this purpose, and to return with him to England. Such was his intention, so long as the young girl had no other object than to rejoin her father and share his captivity. It was this Crockston tried to make the Captain understand, as we have seen, but the enemy had not yet surrendered; on the contrary.

  “Now,” said he, “it is absolutely necessary that Miss Jenny and the Captain come to an understanding; if they are going to be sulky like this all the passage we shall get nothing done. They must speak, discuss; let them dispute even, so long as they talk, and I’ll be hanged if during their conversation James Playfair does not propose himself what he refused me today.”

  But when Crockston saw that the young girl and the young man avoided each other, he began to be perplexed.

  “We must look sharp,” said he to himself, and the morning of the fourth day he entered Miss Halliburtt’s cabin, rubbing his hands with an air of perfect satisfaction.

  “Good news!” cried he, “good news! You will never guess what the Captain has proposed to me. A very noble young man he is. Now try.”

  “Ah!” replied Jenny, whose heart beat violently, “has he proposed to—”

  “To deliver Mr. Halliburtt, to carry him off from the Confederates, and bring him to England.”

  “Is it true?” cried Jenny.

  “It is as I say, miss. What a good-hearted man this James Playfair is! These English are either all good or all bad. Ah! he may reckon on my gratitude, and I am ready to cut myself in pieces if it would please him.”

  Jenny’s joy was profound on hearing Crockston’s words. Deliver her father! She had never dared to think of such a plan, and the Captain of the Dolphin was going to risk his ship and crew!

  “That’s what he is,” added Crockston; “and this, Miss Jenny, is well worth an acknowledgment from you.”

  “More than an acknowledgment,” cried the young girl; “a lasting friendship!”

  And immediately she left the cabin to find James Playfair, and express to him the sentiments which flowed from her heart.