True To His Colors

by Harry Castlemon

  CHAPTER XV.

  FORCED INTO THE SERVICE.

  Marcy Gray thought he had watched the movements of his native Statepretty closely since the result of the presidential election becameknown, and perhaps he had; but there were some things connected with herrecent history that must have slipped his mind, or he would have seen atonce that the government at Washington was justified in closing herports to the world. The State had been in armed rebellion ever since themonth of January, when her local authorities committed treason byseizing the forts along her coast. It is true that her Governordisavowed the action, offered to restore the forts on condition thatthey should not be garrisoned by United States troops, and that theproposition was accepted; and it is also true that the State forces verysoon took possession of the forts again, this time acting under theGovernor's authority. The latter's refusal to send troops to the aid ofthe national government proved him to be as much of a rebel as theGovernor of South Carolina was.

  "So North Carolina is no whit better than the States that have joinedthe Confederacy, is she?" said Marcy, when his mother had reminded himof all these things. "But there's a great difference between talking anddoing," he added, wisely. "Three thousand miles make a pretty longcoast, the first thing you know, and I don't believe Uncle Sam has shipsenough to guard it. I'll bet you that when the blockade is established,I can take the Fairy Belle and slip out and in as often as I feel likeit. It will be nothing but a paper blockade; but if it could be madeeffectual, it would send the price of things up so that you couldn'treach them with a ten-foot pole, would it not?"

  Blockading more than three thousand miles of sea-coast, some portions ofwhich were noted for sudden and violent storms, was a giganticundertaking, and Marcy Gray was not the only one who did not think theattempt would prove successful. To begin with, there were only ninetyvessels of all classes in the United States navy, and of the forty-twoin commission all except twelve had been sent to foreign stations onpurpose to have them out of the way when they were wanted. Of thevessels comprising the home squadron, all except four were in the Gulfof Mexico, where they stood a fine chance of falling into the hands ofthe secessionists. The officers, who had been educated at the expense ofthe government, and who had taken a solemn oath to support thatgovernment, were so badly tinctured with disloyalty that the authoritiesdid not know whom to trust, some of the best men in the service, thegallant Porter among the rest, being suspected of disunion sentiments.During the time that elapsed between March 4 and July 5, two hundred andfifty-nine officers resigned their commissions and went over to theConfederacy. Some of them, who had been entrusted with commands, had thegrace to give their vessels up to the government instead of surrenderingthem into the hands of the secessionists, and one Southern writerdeclared, with some disgust, that they carried their notions of honoraltogether too far when they did it. His exact language was:

  "If a sense of justice had prevailed at the separation of the States, alarge portion of the ships of the navy would have been turned over tothe South; and this failing to be done, it may be questionable whetherthe Southern naval officers in command would not have been justified inbringing their ships with them, which it would have been easy for themto do."

  But the trouble was, the government never acknowledged that there hadbeen any "separation of the States." The war-ships belonged to thenation, and not to a discontented portion of it, and were needed to aidin enforcing the laws that had been trampled under-foot.

  In spite of all these disadvantages the loyal people of the North wentresolutely to work, and before the fourth day of July the blockade wasrendered so effectual that "foreign nations could not evade it and wereobliged to acknowledge its legality." And this was done, too, afterNorfolk navy yard, with its immense stores of munitions of war,twenty-five hundred pieces of heavy ordnance, and all its ships, saveone, had been doomed to destruction by the perfidious officers whosurrounded and advised its loyal but too credulous commander. It wassomething to be proud of.

  But we have anticipated events a little. On the day Marcy Gray went toNashville after the mail the blockade was not established, except onpaper; there was not a ship of war on the coast so far as he knew;Hatteras Inlet was still open to the world, and privateers and coastingvessels were free to go and come as often as they pleased. Up to thistime such a thing as a privateer had scarcely been heard of, but theyappeared as if by magic when it became known that President Davis hadinvited applications for letters of marque and reprisal from goodSoutherners who were able and willing to fit out armed vessels to preyupon our commerce. The first one that attracted any attention was the_Savannah_, which ran out of Charleston on the 2d of June, and wasshortly afterward captured by a ship of war that she mistook for amerchantman; but she was not the first privateer to operate in Southernwaters. As early as May 7, several light-draught steamers, mounting twoor three guns each, were hastily fitted out at New Orleans, and broughtin prizes that were taken off the mouths of the Mississippi. There werealso some along the coast, principally sailing-vessels, and althoughthey did not succeed in making a name for themselves or in spreadingmuch alarm among our merchant marine, they made a few good hauls. One ofthem was fitted out in Seven Mile Creek, not more than a mile from Mrs.Gray's plantation, and, wide-awake as Marcy thought himself to be, henever knew a thing about it until she was almost ready to sail. Then hefound it out through her owner who came up to see him. He was sitting onthe porch when the man came up the walk, and something told him that hehad come there for no good purpose.

  "What in the world does Lon Beardsley want here?" said Marcy to hismother, who was sitting near by. "He hasn't been to see me since I camefrom Barrington, and I don't think he would come now if he wasn't up tosome meanness."

  "Don't allow him to throw you off your guard with any of his specioustalk," replied his mother, in a cautious tone. "To quote from Morris, heis a mighty palavering sort of fellow."

  "I'll watch him. Good-afternoon, Mr. Beardsley. Will you come up andtake a chair?" The man was a visitor, and as such was entitled to civiltreatment even if his company wasn't desired.

  "Yes, I reckon I'll set while I talk," answered Beardsley, takingpossession of the seat that was placed for him. "Rough times these."

  "Yes; and they'll be rougher before we see the end of them," was Marcy'sreply.

  "Don't reckon there'll be any fighting, do you?"

  The boy said he was sure of it.

  "Well, what's one man's pizen is another man's meat," said Mr.Beardsley, with a wink that no doubt meant a great deal. "By the way,Marcy, you've been to school and oughter be posted in such things,--whatis a letter of mark-we and reprisal? I've been down to Wilmington a timeor two on business, but I did not like to ask the folks there what itmeant. They're strangers mostly, and I sorter scringed against letting'em see how ignorant I was."

  "It's a commission granted by a sovereign of a State to his subjects,authorizing them to prey upon the property of the subjects of anotherState, if they happen to find any at sea," answered Marcy. "That's asnear as I can tell it without looking the matter up."

  "It is about what I thought it meant. Now, does that letter orcommission give protection to the crew of the privateer if they happento be caught? They won't hang 'em, will they?"

  "I don't think they will. A few years ago some European powers tried toinduce Uncle Sam to enter into an agreement to abolish privateering, buthe wouldn't do it. Our private armed vessels gave England a good deal oftrouble while she was trying to whip us, and might do the same thingagain under like circumstances."

  "So the United States wouldn't agree to no such bargain," exclaimed Mr.Beardsley, with something like a sigh of relief. "Then Uncle Sam can'tfind fault with us for going into the business, can he?"

  "He'll make prisoners of you and destroy or confiscate your vessel, ifhe can catch you," replied Marcy.

  "_Of_ course. That's to be expected; but he'll have to catch us first,and even then he won't
treat us like we was pirates. That's what I wantto know."

  "Why do you ask? Are you interested in the matter?"

  "Somewhat," answered the man, with a laugh. "My schooner is fixed overand fitted with bunks for twenty men and three officers, and I'vebargained for two howitzers in Newborn. That's what I meant when I saidthat one man's pizen is another man's meat. Now is the time to slip outto sea and make a prize or two before that blockade comes and stops thebusiness."

  Marcy was astonished and so was his mother; and neither of them couldimagine why Mr. Beardsley had taken the pains to come to the house andtell them all this.

  "Make hay while the sun shines, eh?" said he, with a chuckle. "I aintgot my commission yet, and can't get it till my bond for five thousanddollars, which I give to the collector at Wilmington to send to theSecretary of State, has been approved. I've got to promise to obey thelaws, you know, and that's easy."

  "What do you intend to do with your prizes, if you make any?" inquiredMrs. Gray.

  "Take 'em into Newbern and have 'em appraised and sold by a competenttribunal, whatever that means. I heard while I was in Newbern that thereaint no admiralty court in this country like there is in England, andthat the district court would most likely 'tend to the matter. As ownerof the schooner I will, of course, get the lion's share of the money,and the rest will be divided up among the officers and crew. But I'll dothe fair thing by you, Marcy."

  "By me!" exclaimed the boy.

  "Yes. You know this coast like a book--"

  "There are plenty of others who know it better," interrupted Marcy, whonow saw what the man's object was in coming there. It was two-fold: IfMarcy would help him, he would give him good wages and a big share ofprize-money to act as pilot; but if he wouldn't help him, then Mr.Beardsley would denounce him among the planters as unfriendly to thecause of the South, and that would be a bad thing for him to do. Marcyread the whole scheme as easily as he could have read a printed page,and if it had not been for his mother, he would have refused,point-blank, any offer that the owner of the privateer could have madehim. But he would do anything rather than add to his mother's troubles.

  "You must remember that I am not a professional pilot, and that a goodmany months have passed since I sailed my schooner along this coast,"continued Marcy. "I might run you aground at the wrong time. You can getplenty of better men in Newbern or Wilmington."

  "If I am willing to trust you it's all right, aint it? I don't want aprofessional pilot. I want somebody who knows Crooked Inlet. You've beenthrough there often."

  As Marcy could not deny it he said nothing.

  "I aint going to follow the reg'lar routes of travel," continued Mr.Beardsley. "If I was, I could sail my own vessel without hiring anybodyto act as pilot. My plan is to slip down to Newbern some dark night,after I get notice that my application has been granted, take my gunsaboard, ship a good crew, and then run up to, and out of, Crooked Inlet.That will bring me a good piece above Hatteras, and out of the way ofany war-ship that may be prowling along the coast. If one see me andgives chase, I'll put back through the Inlet where she can't follow onaccount of shoal water. What do you think of the scheme?"

  Much against his will Marcy was obliged to say that he thought it wouldwork, provided the pursuing vessel did not happen to be a steamer fastenough to cut the schooner off from the Inlet.

  "And if she is, I won't go nigh her," replied Mr. Beardsley, with a grinwhich was intended to mean that he was altogether too sharp to be caughtin that way. "We won't chase steamers, kase we know we can't catch 'em;and 'taint no ways likely that we'll go to sleep and let one of 'em getbetween us and the coast."

  "Did you have to buy the guns you intend to put on the schooner?" askedMarcy, when the visitor paused and looked at him as if waiting for himto say something.

  "No. They came from one of the forts taken by the State troops awhileago. I borrowed 'em on condition that I give 'em back when they arewanted. They're too light for coast defense, but just the thing for ourbusiness. Well, what do you say?"

  "You have not yet asked my consent," Mrs. Gray reminded him.

  "I didn't think I'd have to," answered Mr. Beardsley. "I reckoned youwere like all the other women folks--ready and willing to do anythingfor the cause."

  "But if Marcy should be killed--"

  "Aw! He aint going to be killed," exclaimed the visitor rudely. "Don't Itell you that we'll run the minute we sight a war-vessel."

  "But you might run aground and they might capture you," answered Mrs.Gray, who knew as well as anybody how dangerous the coast was, even tothose who were acquainted with it. "And if Marcy should be sent toprison, as he would if he were taken on board an armed schooner, whatwould become of me? My oldest boy is at sea, and it is my desire to keepMarcy with me as much as I can."

  "He can run up and see you when we come into port, which will be asoften as we take a prize, or see signs of a blow in the clouds outside,"said Mr. Beardsley, putting on his hat, and getting upon his feet. "Comedown and see the schooner, Marcy. Stop at my house, and I'll show youright where she is."

  "How soon do you start?"

  "Some time this week, I hope. The sooner we get outside the better ourchances will be. That's why I say, make hay while the sun shines. Two orthree hauls will make us so rich that we needn't do no more work thelongest day we live."

  "And will you feel no sorrow for those who lose their property, andperhaps their all, through your efforts to enrich yourself?" asked Mrs.Gray.

  "That's why I say that one man's pizen is another man's meat," repliedBeardsley. "Not a mite of sorrow will I feel for them Yankees. Let themcome under our flag if they want protection. When will you be along,Marcy?"

  "To-morrow about this time," answered the boy.

  "All right. Think over what I've said to you, and be ready with ananswer. When you learn a little more about a vessel I will give you achance as mate. Good-by."

  Beardsley walked down the steps and out of the gate, and Marcy kept hiseyes fastened upon him as long as he remained in sight. Then he facedabout and looked at his mother, who had dropped her sewing into her lapand sat motionless in her chair, the picture of misery and dejection.

  "They're going for us, mother," said he, with a smile. "That interviewwith Beardsley has satisfied me that I can't live up to my principles inthis country as I should like to."

  "I never dreamed of anything like this," said Mrs. Gray, at length."What are you going to do, Marcy?"

  "There's only one thing I can do and keep a roof over your head,"answered Marcy, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and stridingup and down the porch. "I must accept his proposition; that's all thereis about it."

  "Oh, Marcy!" exclaimed his mother.

  "It looks fair enough on the surface, but I tell you there is somethingback of it," said the boy, confidently. "He pretends to take it forgranted that I am a rebel, but he doesn't really believe it, and thisproposition of his is intended to try me and find out where I stand.Almost the last question our class debated in school was: "Is a man everjustified in acting from policy rather than principle." I took thenegative, and contended that he ought to act from principle, let theconsequences be what they might; but I don't think so now. I shall jointhat rebel privateer, and I shall do it because I am sure something willhappen to your house if I don't. Now please don't say a word about it. Ifeel bad enough as it is."

  If Mr. Beardsley really was testing the boy hoping to find him wanting,he was doomed to be disappointed, for promptly at half-past two the nextafternoon Marcy rode into his yard and went with him to see theschooner, which was hidden in a bayou half a mile away. Marcy knew thelittle craft as well as he knew his own, but her appearance had been sogreatly changed that he would not have recognized her if he had seen heron the sound. Her black hull had been painted white, so that she wouldnot offer so fair a mark for the cannon of any cruiser she might beunlucky enough to fall in with; her midship section had been changedinto a berth-deck, and she had gun-decks fore and aft. The tw
o white menwho had charge of her had hoisted her canvas to give it an airing, andMarcy saw a large figure "9" painted on her fore and main sails.

  "That's to make folks believe that she is a pilot-boat," chuckled Mr.Beardsley. "We'll be almost certain to find some fellow creeping alonginside of Diamond shoals, thinking of no danger, and he'll never try tosheer off when he sees us coming, kase he'll think we're friendly. He'llthink different when he sees a puff of smoke go up from our bows, butthen it will be too late for him to square away. Good scheme; don't youthink so?"

  Although Marcy had never felt greater contempt for a man in his life, hemanaged to get through the interview to his satisfaction; but whether ornot Mr. Beardsley was satisfied, the boy could not tell. Sometimes heacted as if he was, and then again he looked and talked as if hesuspected that Marcy was not half as enthusiastic as he pretended to be,and that his heart was set on something besides privateering.

  "I'd like to capture this vessel, hoist Dick Graham's flag over it, andgive her up to some man-of-war," he said to himself. "But if I shouldtry it, I'd never dare show myself around home again. The game isn'tworth the candle. Some of Uncle Sam's boys will knock her intokindling-wood if she stays outside long enough, and possibly they maysend me to Davy's locker along with her. It's rather a desperate chance,but it's the only thing that will save mother from persecution. Perhapsthe neighbors will be a little more civil to her when they find that Iam in the service of the Confederacy." Then aloud he said: "When shegets her guns and stores aboard she will draw a good deal of water forCrooked Inlet, and I'd feel safer if I could have Julius at my elbowwhen--"

  "Oh, that wouldn't do at all," interrupted Mr. Beardsley, stamping aboutthe deck and shaking his head most emphatically. "Julius is a nigger andan abolitionist, and we don't want no such around. I've had carpentersat work on the schooner for almost two weeks, and there aint been one ofmy black people aboard of her."

  "But they must all know that you have been doing something to her,"replied Marcy.

  "Of course. I told 'em that I was getting ready to go a-trading betweenPlymouth, Edenton, and Newbern, and that I was fixing on her up so't Icould carry big cargoes."

  "Mebbe they believed it and mebbe they didn't," was the boy's mentalcomment. "If the darkies hereabouts are as sharp as they are downBarrington way, they understand what this vessel is intended for as wellas you do yourself."

  "I won't have no niggers aboard my privateer," continued Mr. Beardsley,who talked and acted as if he had grown in importance since thosegun-decks were put into the schooner. "I wouldn't trust the best of 'emin times like these, and so I shall man my ship with whites. These menbelong to my crew, and the rest will be just as good."

  Marcy thought they might be better without hurting anything, for he didnot at all like the appearance of the two fellows he had found in chargeof the privateer. They had probably been picked up among the sailorboardinghouses in Newbern; and if the test of the crew were going to belike them, Marcy thought he would not care to be in their company for agreat while at a time. He afterward learned that one of the men was deepin Mr. Beardsley's confidence.

  Before the boy took leave of the owner of the privateer they came to aplain understanding on all points, agreed upon terms, and Marcy was tohold himself in readiness to sail for Newbern at any hour of the day ornight. He felt almost like a criminal when he rode home to meet hismother, but, although he was among the first, he was by no means thelast, to serve the cause of the Confederacy because he could not helphimself.