Marcy, the Refugee

"I'll have Webster sworn in this very night, and when I see the captain of the Lane I will tell him what I know about Jack Gray, and will say that his brother did me good service while the fleet was in Croatan and Albemarle sounds. The quartermaster will return your flag at once."

Marcy went into the state room that he had used as his own since he had been on board the ship, and when he came out he brought his valise, in which he had stowed the package the captain had intrusted to his care. The flag with which his Harrington girl presented him, and which had waved triumphant during three hard battles and several sharp skirmishes, was promptly handed out by the quartermaster on watch, and then Marcy followed the captain to the waist, to pick out the skiff that was to take him to his home. As his wounded arm was not yet in a serviceable condition, he selected a boat with a square stern, that could be sculled with one oar. After it had been put into the water, and the countersign, "Roanoke," had been whispered in his ear, Marcy shook hands all around, not forgetting Aleck Webster and the other Union men among the rest, and pushed off into the darkness. The current was strong, and Marcy hugged the bank to keep out of it as much as he could, and by so doing brought himself to the notice of half a dozen sentries who compelled him to come ashore with the countersign. Of course this was a bother, and the progress he made with his one-handed sculling was slow and laborious; but it was safer than following a lonely road and running the risk of falling in with some of those rebel soldiers whom General Burnside had sent to their homes. Marcy told himself that that was about the worst thing that could have happened to him. He was afraid that these paroled prisoners would be pliant tools in the hands of Captain Beardsley, and they were so numerous that the thirteen Union men, who were all there were left of the band that had rescued him and his mother from the power of the robbers, could not hold their own against them.

"Things will be worse now than they ever were before," thought Marcy, as he sculled his boat out of the river into Seven Mile Creek, and sat down to take a much-needed rest and eat a portion of the lunch that Captain Benton's steward had put up for him. "Beardsley will be more vindictive than ever, because I did not say a word for him when Captain Benton put him in irons, and if the truth will not answer his purpose, he'll not scruple to lie about me. He'll try his best to force me into the army so that he can have a clear field for his operations, but I'll tell you what's a fact, I'll not go," said Marcy hotly. "Jack declared that he would take to the swamp before he would fight for the Confederacy, and why shouldn't I do the same? I will. I'll become a refugee rather than shoot at the flag my brother is sailing under. Refugee: one who flees for refuge or safety. That's me, as Dick Graham used to say. I'll seek safety among the Union men who spend the most of their time in the woods. It's my opinion that from now on they will have to spend all their time there, for I don't believe that the prisoners Burnside released will leave any houses for them to go into. Mother's will have to go with the rest."

Marcy had often made the trip from his mother's house to Plymouth and back in a rowboat, and if he thought it hard when he had two hands to use, it was doubly tedious and discouraging now that he had only one, and nothing but the most gloomy thoughts for company. He had almost made up his mind that he would camp on the bank for the rest of the night and walk home in the morning, when he was startled by hearing a low, familiar whistle, something like the chirp of a cricket, a short distance away. He listened until the sound was repeated, and then called out, in a husky voice:

"Julius!"

"Hi ya!" came the answer through the darkness; and Marcy thought he had never heard anything half so melodious as the black boy's laugh. "I done tol' dat fool niggah he didn't know nuffin, but he won't listen to Julius. Eberybody take Julius for a plum dunce; but I done fine you, Marse Mahcy, an' dere's dat Morris – "

"Where are you?" interrupted the boy. "Come here and tell me what you mean, and what brought you here so far from home."

"Nuffin didn't brung me hyar; I jes done come," replied Julius; and a slight splashing in the water indicated that he was in a boat, and that he was pushing off from the bank in the direction from which Marcy's voice sounded. "Dat fool Morris, he take de mu-el an' de filly an' done gone to Nashville lookin' for you; but I know you aint gwine come home dat a way fru all dem rebel soldiers, an' so I come hyar."

"And very glad I am to see you," answered Marcy, laying hold of the side of the dugout that just then bumped against his skiff. "You came here to meet me while Morris went to Nashville with my horse. How did you know I was coming home to-night?"

"Well, de missus say you boun' to come mighty soon, now dat de Yankees done cotch Plymouth, an' so I come hyar," replied Julius. "Howdy, Marse Mahcy!"

The latter replied that he felt pretty well but hungry, although he had just finished a hearty lunch. Julius had been thoughtful enough to provide for that, and straightway produced a basket whose contents would have withstood the assaults of two or three boys with appetites sharper than his own; and while he ate, Marcy asked a good many leading questions, in the hope of inducing his close-mouthed black friend to tell him just how things had been going at home during his absence. He learned that Captain Beardsley had returned in company with some of the prisoners who had been paroled at the Island, but so far as Julius knew he had not set any new plans afloat against Marcy and his mother. Perhaps he did not think it would be safe to do so until things became a little more settled, for among those who had been captured at Roanoke were many who were very bitter against the Confederate government, and who declared that they would fight before they would go into the army again. Some of the soldiers had stopped at the house to ask for something to eat; but others had marched by shaking their fists and yelling derisively. Marcy's heart sank when he heard that, for it proved that he had not been mistaken as to the course Captain Beardsley would pursue when the Federals permitted him to return to his home. Undoubtedly he had told all he knew about Mrs. Gray and her two sons, and it would have been just like him if he had urged the defeated and enraged Confederates to take satisfaction out of all the Union people they could find, since they had failed to beat those who had confronted them in battle. Indeed, that was what Beardsley did; and Marcy afterward found out why his scheme did not work.

Having taken the sharp edge off his appetite, Marcy told Julius to make the skiff's painter fast to the stern of his dugout and go ahead; and the sooner he reached home the better he would like it. He found it much easier to lie at full length on the bottom of his boat, and allow Julius to tow him, than it was to work his way against a strong current with one hand – so very much easier, in fact, that he dropped asleep and slumbered until the bow of the skiff touched the landing abreast of the buoy to which his little schooner was moored. The sight of her recalled to mind the last conversation he had held with Captain Benton.

"I am afraid we shall have to look up a new berth for the Fairy Belle" said he. "It may not be safe for her to stay here any longer, because the Yankees are taking possession of everything in the shape of a boat that they can get their hands on."

"What for dey do dat?" exclaimed Julius. "De boats aint agin de Union."

"They have been made to do service against the Union," answered Marcy, "and they can be used to carry dispatches from one side of the river to the other."

"Well, den, luf dem go down an' bus' up Cap'n Beardsley's schooner," exclaimed Julius. "She wuk agin de Union when she run de blockade."

"I know that; and I had half a notion to put Captain Benton on the track of her," said Marcy, who knew very well that he had no intention of doing anything of the kind. "That is the way he would serve me if he had a good chance. Pick up my valise and come along."

When Marcy went through the gate he missed his faithful Bose, who had always been the first to welcome him; but some of the house servants were stirring, and these greeted him as though they had never expected to see him again. They knew where he had been and what he had been doing, and had thought of and prayed for him as often as they heard the roar of the big guns, which the breeze now and then brought faintly to their ears. They made such a fuss over him that Marcy was saved the trouble of awaking his mother, whom he found waiting for him in the sitting-room.

"You told me that when I came home you wanted me to be able to say that I did my duty," said the young pilot, as his mother laid her head on his shoulder and cried softly. "I can honestly say it, and I have a letter in my pocket from Captain Benton that will bear me out in it."

"I am sorry you brought it with you," said Mrs. Gray. "The country is overrun with Confederate soldiers, and from the way some of them behave I am led to believe that they know all about us."

"I'll bet they do," said Marcy bitterly. "You know, of course, that Beardsley was carried away the same night and for the same purpose I was? Well, the Yankees did not call upon him to act as pilot, but put him in irons at once; and I am sorry to say that he was paroled at the time the other prisoners were. But you need not worry about my letter, as I shall presently show you. Sit down, and tell me what you have done to kill time since I have been gone."

To his relief Marcy found that Julius had told the truth for once in his life, and that his mother had had nothing beyond his absence to trouble her, if we except the demonstrations that some of the paroled prisoners made while they were going by the house. They had not annoyed her by coming into the yard, as they might have done if their officers had not been along to restrain them, but they had whooped and yelled and threatened in a way that was enough to frighten anybody. She said that the excitement and alarm that took possession of the people when the news came that Roanoke Island was in the hands of the invading forces, was something she would remember as long as she lived. The news must have reached Nashville and Plymouth on the night of the surrender, for at daylight the next morning the road in front of the house was filled with fugitives who were making all haste to carry their property out of harm's way. If a body of Yankee cavalry had suddenly appeared at their heels it would scarcely have caused a flutter among them, for they were panic-stricken already.

"The world is full of fools," exclaimed Marcy, undoing the string that held together the bundle of proclamations that Captain Benton had given him, "and the biggest ones I ever heard of live right around here. Didn't they ask you why you didn't pack up and run, too?"

"They did; and my reply was, that I had a son who had been impressed into the Union service; that if I went away he would not know where to look for me, and that I intended remaining in my home until he returned," said Mrs. Gray.

"Good for you, mother!" exclaimed Marcy. "You'll do. Of course, the last one of them was suspicious of you, but you couldn't help that. Now, here are some copies of a proclamation that Captain Benton gave me, with the request that I would spread them around where they would do the most good. He wished me to call particular attention to the last paragraph, and now I will see how it reads."

Seating himself by his mother's side, with a copy of the proclamation in his hand, Marcy proceeded to read it aloud. After referring to the desolating war, that had been brought on by comparatively few bad men, the last paragraph went on to say:

"These men are your worst enemies. They, in truth, have drawn you into your present condition, and are the real disturbers of your peace and the happiness of your firesides. We invite you, in the name of the Constitution, and in that of virtuous loyalty and civilization, to separate yourselves at once from their malign influence, to return to your allegiance, and not compel us to resort farther to the force under our control. The government asks only that its authority may be recognized; and we repeat that in no manner or way does it desire to interfere with your laws, constitutionally established; your institutions, of any kind whatever; your property, of any sort; or your usages, in any respect.

"That was what Mr. Watkins told you on the night he took me away," said Marcy, when he had finished reading the proclamation. "He said that the South could end the war by laying down their arms, and General Burnside and Commodore Goldsborough say the same."

"But, my son, that is not what the secession leaders want," said Mrs. Gray. "They demand a separate government, and say they will not return to their allegiance."

"They'll have to do it, and, when they go back, they'll not take slavery with them. Mark my words. The time is coming when the darkies will be as free as we are; and I wish that time might come to-morrow, if it would only bring peace upon the land once more. I sometimes think, and hope, that I am having a horrid dream, and that I will wake up in the morning to find everything as it was before. Now, don't cry, mother. I'll not talk so any more. There's my flag as sound as it was when I took it away; but it has been in battle-smoke so thick that you couldn't see it from the deck. I must hoist Dick Graham's next, but not until it can float in a breeze that is untainted by any secession rag. That was the promise I made him when he gave me the flag, instead of turning it over to Rodney, who wanted to destroy it. Can't we have breakfast a little earlier, so that I can go to town?"

"You can have breakfast whenever you want it; but, Marcy, I am almost afraid to have you go to town," replied his mother.

"If I thought I would be in any more danger there than I am at home I wouldn't stir one step," said the boy. "I don't think it would be policy for me to keep away from those paroled prisoners, but that it would be safest for me to go among them as Captain Beardsley does. Besides, I want to hear what sort of stories that old villain has been telling about me since he came back. Now, where would be a good place to put Captain Benton's letter? We are liable to receive a visit from the Union cavalry any day, and the letter ought to be kept handy."

In accordance with Marcy's request breakfast was served as soon as it could be made ready, and during the progress of the meal Marcy entertained his mother with a glowing description of the various engagements through which he had passed on Captain Benton's vessel. Contrary to his expectations, he said, he did not feel frightened when he went into the first fight at the Island, and no doubt the reason was because he had so many things to occupy his mind; but after that he grew pale and trembled every time he heard the call to quarters, for he had a faint idea of what was before him. And the oftener he was under fire the more he dreaded the thought of going into action. His experience was like that of every soldier in this land; and when we say soldier we do not mean coffee-cooler.

Mrs. Gray became alarmed when Marcy told her how Captain Beardsley had been put in irons by the man who had once been his prisoner, for she was well enough acquainted with the captain to know that he would be revenged upon somebody for it. When he had eaten all the breakfast he wanted, Marcy mounted his mother's horse, that had been brought to the door in place of his filly which old Morris had taken to Nashville, and galloped out of the yard. The first man he saw was Beardsley, standing by the ruins of his house. The man looked up when he heard the sound of hoofs on the road, and when he discovered Marcy he beckoned him to come in.

"I've just thought of something," said the boy to himself, as he turned into the gate. "This villain is going to play off friendly, and I can't watch him any too closely. When the Yanks get to scouting through here, he will be the best Union man in the world; and who knows but he will send them to our house after Jack's rebel flag? That flag must come down the minute I get home."

Then he rode up and shook hands with Captain Beardsley, who acted as if he was glad to see him.

CHAPTER XIII.

A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS

"I just wanted to ask you how and when you got back," said the captain, holding fast to Marcy's hand. "I see Morris over town yesterday, and right there he is going to stay till you come to ride the filly home. How did you like the Yanks, what you seen of 'em?"

"I have no reason to complain of my treatment," replied Marcy. "I had no idea that you were impressed at the time I was, until I saw you on that gunboat."

"If I'd knowed that they was going to slap the bracelets onto me, they never would have took me there alive," said Beardsley in savage tones. "I'd a fit till I dropped before I would have went a step. Who'd 'a' thought that me and you would ever seen any of them Hollins fellers on a war-ship? I'm mighty sorry now that I didn't stick Captain Benton in irons the same as I done with his men, and it's a lucky thing for him that he didn't let me have the handling of his ship. I would have run her so hard aground that she would be there now."

"Then it is a lucky thing for you that you were sent below," added Marcy. "You would have been hanging at the yard-arm in less than ten minutes after you ran the ship ashore. Those gunboat fellows don't stand any nonsense."

"Mebbe that's so," said the captain. "And sense I've got home all right, I'm kinder glad things happened as they did. The robbers who went to your house, after the money they didn't get, used me pretty rough, didn't they?" he added, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the spot on which his home had once stood. "How do you reckon they happened to know that I wasn't here to fight 'em that night?"

"That is a question I can't answer," replied Marcy, and then he waited for Beardsley to say something about the Union men who had rescued him and his mother, but that seemed to be a matter that the captain did not care to touch upon.

"Don't it beat you what sort of stories get afloat these times?" continued the latter. "There's plenty of people about here who believe you uns have got money in your house."

"I know it. I told the robbers there wasn't a cent outside of the little there was in mother's purse and mine, and asked them to look around and see if they could find any more. They preferred to choke a different story out of me, but they wouldn't have got it if they had choked me to death. If there is a dollar in the house besides what I offered them, I don't know it."

"Where's the prize-money I paid you?' asked Beardsley.

"That was safely concealed; but it wasn't what they wanted, and so I said nothing about it. They were after money which they and some other lunatics think my mother brought from Wilmington, when she went there to buy goods."

"Have you any idea who they were?"

"If I had, I would give their names to the Union commander at Plymouth before I was twenty-four hours older," said Marcy emphatically.

"I don't reckon they'll trouble you any more after the lesson they have had," said Beardsley; and then he hastened to add: "I mean they won't dare to pester you, now that the Union soldiers are here. And speaking of the Yankees reminds me of another thing I wanted to ask you. Do you reckon – aint I always stood your friend – yourn and your maw's?"

"You need not question me on that point. You know well enough how we feel over your taking me to sea when you didn't need my services any more than you need two noses," said Marcy, for once permitting his indignation to get the better of him. "But I shall not do you any mean, underhanded tricks, if that is what you mean."

"Why, Marcy, I never done you nary one," began Beardsley.

"Captain, I know you from main-truck to kelson," answered the boy, gathering up his reins as if about to ride away. "You took me from my mother for reasons of your own, not because you wanted a pilot; and you have scarcely made a move since these troubles began that I can't tell you of. You ought to let up now, and I tell you plainly that you had better."

Beardsley was astounded. His victim had turned at last, and showed that he was ready to fight. He spoke so positively, and with such easy assurance, that the man was afraid of him.

"Why, Marcy, sure, hope to die I never – "

"Yes, you have. You have been persecuting us systematically, and there's the proof of it right there," exclaimed Marcy, pointing to the ruins of Beardsley's home. "If you had quit that business two months ago, you would have a house to live in now, and so would Colonel Shelby. I believe I could have sent you to prison by telling Captain Benton a few scraps of your history, but I wasn't mean enough to do it."

"No, you couldn't," declared Beardsley, who had had time to recover a little of his courage. "I never was in the Confederate service; and even if I was, I can't be pestered for it now, kase the Yankees done let me go with the rest of the prisoners."

"You have been a smuggler, haven't you?"

"S'pose I have? I can't be hurt for that now."

"I almost wish I had tested the matter by speaking to Captain Benton about it. If I had, I don't think you would have been turned over to the army to be paroled with the other prisoners. I could have told him about the Hattie, couldn't I?"

"Great smoke!" exclaimed Beardsley. "I never thought of her, and there she is in the creek, where they could have picked her up as easy as you please. It was good of you not to say anything about her, and if I ever get a chance I'll show you that you and your maw have been thinking hard of me without a cause."

Beardsley turned away as if he had nothing further to say to Marcy, and the latter wheeled his horse and rode on toward Nashville, wondering if he had made a mistake in talking so plainly to his old commander.

"If I have it is too late to be sorry for it now," was his reflection. "But I don't think he can say worse things about me now than he could before. Beardsley is nobody's fool, though he does look like it, and he has known all along how mother and I feel toward him."

When Marcy reached the village he found the streets almost deserted; but he knew there was a talkative crowd in the post-office, for every time the door was opened loud and angry voices came through it. Tom Allison, Mark Goodwin, and their friends were not at hand to have the first talk with him, as Marcy thought they would be, but he found them in the office listening to an excited harangue from a paroled soldier, who had discarded his coat and hat and pushed up his sleeves, as if he were prepared to do battle with the first one of his auditors who dared dispute his words. Marcy saw at a glance that some of the crowd were very much shocked, while others were grinning broadly, and nodding now and then as if to say that the speaker was expressing their sentiments exactly. Marcy knew him well. He lived in the settlement, and had been one of the first to put on a uniform and hasten to the front; and so very patriotic was he that he was anxious to fight all his neighbors who could not be persuaded to go into the army with him. But his experience at Hatteras and Roanoke Island had somewhat dampened his ardor, and showed him that there were some things in war that he had never dreamed of.

"How does it come that you stay-at-homers know so much about this business, and about my duty as a soldier, that you take it upon yourselves to tell me what I had oughter do?" shouted the man who had heard the shrieking of Yankee shells at Fort Bartow. "I see some among you who are mighty hard on your niggers, but there aint one who is as hard as our trifling officers were on us. Having no niggers to drive they took to driving us white men, and they 'bused us like we was dogs. Many's the time I have seen men tied up by the thumbs and bucked and gagged for nothing at all; and, Tom Allison, I give you fair warning that if you say again that I'm a coward kase I don't allow to go back and be 'bused like I was afore, I'll twist your neck for ye."