Marcy, the Refugee

The executive turned away as he spoke, leaving the young pilot alone with his mother. He did not prolong the leave-taking, but brought it to an end as quickly as he could, shook hands with the three darkies, whose laughter was now changed to weeping, looked around for Morris and Julius, neither of whom was in sight, and in two minutes more was marching by Mr. Watkins's side along the road that led past the ruins of Captain Beardsley's house. If Marcy remembered that his old captain was one of the best pilots for those waters that could be found anywhere he did not think to speak of it, nor did he take more than passing note of the fact that there was another squad of sailors standing in the road in front of Beardsley's gate. They seemed to be waiting for Mr. Watkins, for an officer walked up and exchanged a few low, hurried words with him. Marcy afterward thought that the barking of Beardsley's dogs, and the shrill frightened voices of the house servants and field-hands which came faintly from the direction of the quarter, ought to have told him that something unusual had been going on there, but he did not pay very much attention to the sounds. He was thinking of his mother. "Very good, sir," said Mr. Watkins, in response to the officer's whispered communication. "Make all haste to the boats and shove off; but preserve silence, and keep the line well closed up."

The officer, accompanied by Doctor Patten's boy Jonas, went back to his own squad, which at once moved into the woods. That of Mr. Watkins immediately followed, led by the master's mate, the executive and Marcy bringing up the rear as before; but it was not until the men were all embarked and the four boats were well on their way down the creek, that they had opportunity to exchange a word with each other. Mr. Watkins's cutter led the way, Jonas occupying his old place in the bow, and passing his instructions to the coxswain in a whisper. The sailors bent to their work with a will, and the boats moved swiftly on their course; but the muffled oars were dipped so carefully, and feathered so neatly, that there was no sound heard save the slight swishing of the water alongside. Feeling entirely satisfied with the way in which he had carried out the instructions of his superior, Mr. Watkins settled back on his elbow in the stern-sheets and addressed Marcy in low and guarded tones.

"I remarked to one of my officers a short time ago that it must take courage, and plenty of it, to be loyal in this country; and I told the truth, did I not?" he whispered.

"One has to be more than brave to be true to his colors in this section," replied Marcy. "He has to be deceitful. I can satisfy you of that, if you think a few scraps of my personal history would be of interest to you."

Mr. Watkins answered that nothing would suit him better than to hear, from the lips of one who knew all about it, how the Union people, if there were any in that country besides his own family, managed to live among their rebel neighbors; and Marcy began and told his story, but not quite so fully as the reader knows it. He did not have time to do that, and besides he was too modest; but he easily brought his auditor to believe that the arm he carried in a sling had not been injured while its owner was fighting on the Confederate side, and also showed him that he had more reason to stand in fear of Captain Beardsley than of any other man in the settlement.

"What worries me just now is the fear that Beardsley will in some way find out that you Yankees have taken me from my mother's house to help your vessels through Croatan Sound, said Marcy, who little dreamed that Captain Beardsley had been taken from his own bed for the same purpose, and was at that very moment a prisoner in one of the boats that followed astern. The night was so dark that Marcy could not have recognized the man if he had looked straight at him; and if Beardsley had seen and recognized Marcy, when the two squads came together and got into the boats on the bank in front of his house, he had made no sign. And we may add here that the privateer captain had not been treated by his captors with the same kindness and consideration that Marcy received at the hands of Mr. Watkins. The men who surrounded his house, who followed him to his hiding-place in the cellar and dragged him out by main strength, knew that he was a rebel who hadn't the manhood to treat his prisoners with any degree of kindness, and when Beardsley frantically resisted them and yelled to his darkies to put the dogs on to the Yankees, the boatswain's mate who held him said that, if he opened his mouth again in that fashion, he would make what little light there was in the cellar shine straight through the captive's head. This threat kept Beardsley quiet, and he would not have dared to say anything to Marcy if he had had the opportunity; but he had a good deal to say about him after he got home.

"If you whip the rebels at Roanoke Island and let me go among my friends again, that man will make me no end of trouble," said Marcy, in conclusion. "He will declare that I went aboard of you of my own free will, and did all I could to help you through the Sound. It will be pretty near the truth, but all the same I don't want the story to get wind in the settlement."

"He is about the meanest two-for-a-cent outfit that I ever heard of," said Mr. Watkins, in a tone of disgust. "I am glad you told me all this, and will be sure to bear it in mind. But yours is not the only Union family in this country, I hope?"

Oh, no, Marcy said in reply. There were many who professed to be Union, and as many more who had little or nothing to say about it one way or the other. The latter were the real Union people. Some of them held secret meetings in the swamp, and had rid Marcy's mother of the presence of one of her meanest and most dangerous enemies by coming to her plantation one night and carrying away the overseer. They also captured the four men who raided his mother's house with the intention of robbing it, and had given Marcy to understand that they were keeping a watchful eye upon him and would punish any one who persecuted him or his mother. While he was telling this part of his story another faint call from a far-away sentry gave to Mr. Watkins the gratifying intelligence that Plymouth had once more been passed in safety. Why these convenient rear water-ways were not more closely guarded by the Plymouth garrison it is hard to tell. Perhaps it was because they thought the Yankees would not venture to penetrate so far inland in small boats. They learned better when Cushing sunk the Albemarle.

There was little current in the river to help the cutters on their journey, but the ebb tide presently came to their assistance, and under its influence they went on their way with increased speed; still it was almost daylight when Mr. Watkins's cutter and the two immediately astern of it drew up to the gangway on the starboard quarter of Captain Benton's vessel. The executive officer and Marcy stepped first upon the grating, and Beardsley and the acting ensign who commanded the second cutter followed them up the side to the deck, where Captain Benton was waiting to receive them.

"I am aboard, sir," said Mr. Watkins, placing his hand to his cap, "and have the honor to report that your orders have been carried out to the letter. These are the pilots I was instructed to bring."

"Very good, sir," replied the captain.

At the word "pilots" Marcy Gray turned his head to see where and who the other one was, and his amazement knew no bounds when he saw Captain Beardsley's eyes looking into his own. His old commander was startled too; for up to this moment he supposed that the object of the expedition was to capture him alone. And if he was ill at ease to know that he was wholly in the power of men whose flag he had insulted, he was terribly frightened when he found himself confronted by Marcy Gray. The latter knew too much about him and his business, for hadn't he as good as confessed in the boy's presence that he had been a smuggler? If Marcy remembered that fatal admission and felt in the humor to take advantage of it, there was likely to be trouble in store for him. The man saw that very clearly, even before the gunboat captain turned his steady gaze upon him. Then Beardsley wished that the deck might open under his feet and let him down into the hold. He cringed a moment, like the coward he was, and then tried to call a smile to his face. He remembered his old prisoner, the master of the Mary Hollins, and acting upon the first thought that came into his mind, he took a step forward as if he would have shaken hands with him; but Captain Benton turned on his heel and walked away. This movement must have served as a signal to somebody, for there was a slight but ominous jingling of chains close by, and the master at arms clasped a pair of irons about Beardsley's wrists before he could raise a finger to prevent it. The touch of the cold metal aroused him almost to frenzy.

"Take 'em off! In the name and by the authority of the Confederate States of Ameriky I pertest agin this outrage!" yelled Beardsley, hardly knowing what he said in his excitement. "Marcy Gray, aint I always stood your friend and your mother's too, and are you going to keep as dumb as an oyster while this indignity is being put upon your old cap'n? Take the dog-gone things off, I say! I aint in the service, and you aint got no right to slap me in irons when I aint done the first thing agin you or your laws, either. No, I won't keep still!" roared the captain, struggling furiously in the grasp of the sailors, who were guiding him with no very gentle hands toward the gangway that led down to the brig. "I'll pertest and fight as long as I have breath or strength left in me; and when we have gained our independence, Cap'n Benton, I'll make it my business to see that you suffer for this."

From the bottom of his heart Marcy Gray pitied the frightened, half-crazy man who was being hurried below, but he did not draw attention to himself by interceding in his behalf because he knew it would do no good. Beardsley was being treated just as he had treated Captain Benton's men; but there was no mob on the Union gunboat to whoop and yell at him as the Newbern mob had whooped and yelled at his prisoners when they were being taken to jail. Beardsley continued to struggle and shout until his head disappeared below the combings of the main-hatch, and then the racket suddenly ceased. He had not been gagged, as Marcy feared, but he had been told that he would be if he didn't keep still, and the threat silenced him.

Quiet having been restored Mr. Watkins said to his commander, waving his hand in Marcy's direction:

"This young man, sir, was also on board the Osprey, when she made a prize of your schooner. I think he has something to say that will interest you. His name is Marcy Gray."

"Why, Gray was mentioned to me as a Union man," said the captain.

"And so I am," replied Marcy. "But when one is surrounded by enemies he can't always do as he likes, and I sailed on that privateer because I couldn't help it. If you will be kind enough to look into this valise you will see something that will prove my words."

"He has seventeen hundred dollars in that grip, which he says belongs to you, sir," Mr. Watkins whispered in the ear of his superior. "It is the money he received when the Hollins was condemned and sold by the Confederate government."

Captain Benton was greatly astonished. He looked hard at Marcy for a minute or two, and then beckoned him to come into the cabin. Seating himself on one side of the little table that stood in the middle of the floor he pointed to a chair on the other side, and the boy dropped into it. The captain continued to look closely at him for another minute, and then said:

"I don't know whether I saw you on board the Osprey or not."

"I don't wonder at it, sir," answered the young pilot. "You had so many bitter reflections to occupy your mind, about that time, that you probably do not remember a single one of the crew with the exception of Captain Beardsley. But I remember you, sir; and when I saw you looking over the Osprey's stern at your own vessel which was following in our wake, I felt sorry for you. I said then that I would never spend a cent of your money, and I never have."

While he talked in this way, Marcy took the key from his pocket and opened his valise. The first thing he brought to light was his Union flag, the one his Barrington girl gave him, and which, we said, in the first volume of this series, was destined to float in triumph over the waters that he had once sailed through in Captain Beardsley's privateer. The glorious day we then prophesied had dawned at last! The captain looked on in surprise when Marcy took the flag from his valise, and shook it out so that he could see it.

"I should think your rebel neighbors, if you have any, would destroy that banner," said he.

"We have plenty of that sort of neighbors, sir, but they never saw this flag," answered Marcy. "I keep it hidden in one of my bedquilts, and sleep under it every night." And, being a boy of business, he came at once to the subject that just then was nearest his heart. "Am I to remain on this ship when she goes into action, sir?" he inquired.

"For anything I know to the contrary, you are," the captain answered with a smile. "Of course, that will be just as the flag-officer says. Why do you ask?"

"Because, if I am, I wish you would do me the favor to run this flag of mine up to your masthead," replied Marcy. "The young lady who made it for me, and who worked upon it while her rebel relatives were asleep, would be very much gratified if she could hear that it had been carried to victory by a Federal ship of war."

"Well, my young friend, whether you stay aboard of us or not, that flag of yours shall go up to our masthead. You think we are going to beat them, do you?"

"I know it, sir," replied Marcy, so earnestly that the captain smiled again. "If they beat you to-day, you will beat them to-morrow, or next week. You are bound to win in the long run, and in their heart of hearts the rebels know it."

"It does me good to hear you talk," said the captain, getting upon his feet and pacing his cabin with his hands in his pockets. "I have been pretty well discouraged since the fleet arrived off this coast, but you put new life into me. Is that my money?" he added, as Marcy placed a good-sized box upon his table. "Am I as rich as that? You handle it as though it was heavy."

"If I haven't forgotten all my schooling, it ought to weigh close on to ten pounds, troy," answered Marcy, throwing back the cover, so that the captain could see the glittering contents. "If you will run it over, sir, I think you will find it all there."

"Good gracious, my lad! Do you take me for a bank cashier? I could not count a pile of money like that in an hour, and I have scarcely two minutes' time at my disposal now. Steward, give us a cup of coffee, and tell the officer of the deck to call away the gig. I shall want you to go to the flag-ship with me. How much did that pirate get for the Hollins and her cargo, any way?"

"Fifty-six thousand dollars," answered Marcy.

"That is rather more than they would have brought in Boston," said the captain reflectively. "And the Confederate government got half, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir; and half the remainder was divided between Captain Beardsley and his two mates. The other fourteen thousand were equally divided among the sixteen members of the crew, petty officers and foremast hands sharing alike, each one receiving eight hundred and seventy-five dollars."

"Then how does it come that there are seventeen hundred dollars here?" said the captain, jerking his head toward the box on the table.

"There are seventeen hundred and fifty dollars in this box to be exact – two shares," replied Marcy. "Captain Beardsley promised to do what he called 'the fair thing' by me if I would ship as pilot on his schooner, and he did it by giving me eight hundred and seventy-five dollars of your money."

"That was pretty cool, I must say. But how do you know that he did not reward your fidelity by giving you some of his own money?"

"No, he didn't, sir!" exclaimed Marcy. "Captain Beardsley doesn't reward anybody unless he thinks he sees a chance to make something by it, and neither does he pay out a cent of his own when he can take what he needs from the pockets of some one else. It is all yours, sir, and I am glad to have the opportunity to give it to you."

"And I am glad to receive it, and to have the opportunity to shake hands with such a young man as you are," said the captain; and suiting the action to the word, he came around the table and gave Marcy's hand a hearty sailor's grip.

CHAPTER XI.

MARCY IN ACTION

Marcy Gray was somewhat surprised, though not at all abashed, to find himself treated as an honored guest on board the gunboat. He took breakfast with Captain Benton, who did not think it beneath his dignity to acknowledge that he was glad to know he was seventeen hundred dollars richer than he thought he was, and who listened with the deepest interest to the boy's account of the various adventures that had befallen him since the war broke out. When the story was finished the captain believed with his executive officer that it required courage to be loyal to the old flag in that country.

Breakfast over, the two stepped into the captain's gig and were taken on board the Southfield and into the presence of the officer who commanded the naval part of the expedition. Flag-officer Goldsborough was a native of Maryland, but he believed that the South was wrong in trying to break up the Union, that she ought to be compelled to lay down her arms since she would not do it of her own free will, and he was doing all a brave and skilful man could to force her to strike the strange flag she had hoisted in opposition to the Stars and Stripes. He was very busy, but he found time to ask Marcy a few questions, and gave him pencil and paper with which to draw a map of the channel that led through Croatan Sound. When it was done he compared it with another that lay upon his table, and Marcy learned, from some remarks he exchanged with Captain Benton, that he was not the only pilot whose services had been secured by force of arms.

We have spoken of an expedition similar to that of Mr. Watkins, which left the fleet the night before, went as far as the mainland and stopped there. It was in search of a pilot, and it brought him, too. He was now on board the flag-ship, from which he was afterward sent to the vessel that had been ordered to lead in the attack. There was still another that Marcy did not know anything about – a negro boy named Tom, who had once called John M. Daniel of Roanoke master. He ran away on the same night the expedition came into the Sound, and had been taken on board Burnside's flag-ship. He afterward showed the general the landing at Ashby's Harbor, and told him how the troops could be placed there without being obliged to wade through the deep marshes at the foot of the Island. At the beginning of the war the Confederates did not believe that their own slaves would turn against them and give aid and comfort to the Federals; but the blacks were sharp enough to know who their friends were, and the information they were always ready to give was in most cases found to be reliable.

"There is one thing I had almost forgotten to speak of, sir," said Captain Benton, when the "commodore," as he had been called, intimated that he had no more questions to ask. "What shall I do with that man Beardsley, if you please?"

"I will give you an order to send him off to a store-ship, for of course you don't want him aboard of you in action," was the answer. "What will be done with him after we are through here, I can't say. If he had been taken with his privateer he might be held as a prisoner of war; but as it is, I presume he will be released after a while, to get into more mischief after he returns within the Confederate lines."

"But it will put him to some trouble to get back," thought Marcy. "And that will be a blessing."

As soon as the order referred to had been written, Captain Benton and his pilot took their departure. When the former stepped upon the deck of his own vessel the second cutter was called away, and Captain Beardsley was brought out of the brig to be taken on board the supply ship, where he would be out of harm's way during the fight that was soon to begin. He did not yell and struggle now as he did when the irons were first placed upon his wrists, for the fear of the gag had taken all that nonsense out of him. His face was very pale, and he walked with his head down, and did not appear to notice any of those he passed on his way to the side. When he saw how utterly dejected and cast down his old commander was, Marcy felt heartily sorry that he had said so much against him; but after all he hadn't told more than half the truth. He had promised himself that he would shut Beardsley up for a long time if he ever got the chance, but now that it was presented, he hadn't the heart to improve it. He did just as he knew his mother would wish him to do under the circumstances – he held his peace; and when the cutter shoved off with him, he hoped that something would happen to keep Beardsley away from Nashville as long as the war continued. But unfortunately he came back. Marcy had not neglected to bring his binoculars with him, and finding himself at liberty after the captain went below, he walked forward to take a look at things, being accompanied by a couple of master's mates, one of whom had been second in command of Mr. Watkins's expedition, and answered to the name of Perkins. The Union fleet lay anchored in three parallel lines a short distance below the lighthouse, which stood on a dangerous shoal on the right-hand side of the channel, the gunboats being in advance, with the exception of half a dozen or more that had been drawn up on the flanks to protect the transports, in case the enemy began the fight without waiting to be attacked. A short half mile ahead of the fleet were two small vessels, the Ceres and the Putnam, whose business it was to act as picket-boats and look out for obstructions when the larger vessels were ready to move. Straight up the channel, and not more than twelve or thirteen miles away, were the double rows of piles and sunken ships that must be passed in some manner before the Union vessels could engage the Confederate squadron, which lay on the other side and close under the protecting guns of Fort Huger. His glass showed him that the rebels had steam up and were ready for action, and Marcy wondered why the Union commander wasn't doing something. He said as much to the two young officers who stood by his side, while he was making his observations.

"Wait a while," replied Perkins, with a sly wink at his companion. "After you have been in one fight you'll not be in any hurry to get into another. I can wait a week or two as well as not."

"I assure you that I am not spoiling for a fight," answered Marcy. "I'd rather not go into one; but since I've got it to do, I wish we might get at it and have it over with." And as he said this he picked up his left hand, which had been hanging by his side, and placed it in the sling he wore around his neck.

"Look here, Perk," said the other young officer, when he observed this movement. "I'll bet you have been giving advice to one who knows more than you do. Where did you get that hand, pilot, if it is a fair question?"

"My hand is all right, but my arm was broken by one of your shells while I was running the blockade," replied Marcy, whereupon the youngsters opened their eyes, and looked at him and at each other as though they felt the least bit ashamed of themselves.

"But of course you did not know anything about it, and I don't think hard of it if you took me for a greenhorn."

"I took you for a lad of spirit and courage when Mr. Watkins told me how you had been living back there in the country," exclaimed Perkins. "But of course I did not know that you had snuffed powder."

"I should think that shell would have taken your arm off instead of breaking it," observed the other.

"The shell never came near me, but a heavy splinter that was torn from our rail made me think I was a goner," replied Marcy. "The man you saw put into the brig, and afterward taken out and sent aboard the store-ship, was my old captain; and I was acting as pilot of his vessel at the time I was hit. And I am as strong for the Union as anybody in this squadron. I have a brother on one of these boats, and would like much to see him."