Marcy, the Refugee

This made two things plain to Marcy Gray. One was that the man had had quite enough of soldiering and that he did not mean to try it again if he could help it. The other was that his friend Allison had presumed to speak his mind a little too freely, and that that was what started the prisoner on his tirade against those whom he called "stay-at-homers." After some twisting, and turning, and elbowing Marcy succeeded in obtaining a glance at Tom.

He was leaning against one of the counters, as far away from the speaker as he could get, and his face was as white as his shirt-front.

"I'm mighty glad to hear that there's Union men among you," continued the soldier, "and if there's any here in this post-office I want them to know that there's more of 'em now nor they was a week ago, and that some of 'em wears gray jackets. And I am glad to hear that them same Union men have took to burning out them among you who was cowards enough to persecute women and children on account of their principles. Now, there's that trifling hound Lon Beardsley. He told me and some others who come up from the Island the same time he did, that we could make a pile of money by burning Mrs. Gray's house."

Colonel Shelby was one of those who listened while the angry soldier talked, but being a "stay-at-homer" he dared not interrupt him. He stood where he could look over the shoulders of some of the crowd into Marcy's face; and when the soldier spoke Beardsley's name, and told what the latter had tried to induce him and some companions to do, the colonel leaned forward and whispered a few earnest words to him. The man bent his head to listen, but as soon as the colonel ceased speaking he broke out again.

"I aint a paroled pris'ner neither," he shouted. "I took my oath that I wouldn't never fight agin the United States again, and I'm going to stick to it. I'm a free man now; I am going to stay free, and I won't shut up till I get ready. When I say that Lon Beardsley tried to get me to burn Mrs. Gray's house I say the truth, and Beardsley dassent come afore me and say different. But I told him plain that we uns who had fit and snuffed powder wouldn't do no dirty work like that. We don't care if Jack Gray is in the Yankee navy and Marcy was a pilot on a Yankee gunboat. If they was in that fight I done my level best to sink 'em; but they whopped us fair and square, and I've had enough of fighting to last me as long as I live. All the same I aint going to let no little whiffet like Tom Allison call me a coward."

While the soldier was going on in this way, pounding the air with his fists and shouting himself hoarse, those of his auditors who could do so without attracting too much attention, secured their mail and slipped through the door into the street; and when the crowd became thinned out so that he could see to the other end of the post-office, Marcy was surprised to discover that the man was not alone and unsupported, as he had supposed him to be. Six or eight stalwart fellows in uniform leaned against the counters; and the fact that they did not interrupt their comrade, or take him to task for anything he said, was pretty good evidence that he spoke for them as well as for himself. Among those who were glad to get away from the sound of his voice were Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin, who went across the road to the hitching-rack, and had time to do a little talking between themselves before Marcy came out.

"Did you ever hear a fellow go on as Ben Hawkins did?" whispered Tom, who had not yet recovered from his fright.

"It's just awful to hear a Confederate soldier talk treason like that," replied Mark. "I declare, things are getting worse every day. I thought that when our soldiers came home they would hunt the Unionists out of the country, and burn everything they've got; but, by gracious! they are Unionists themselves, or traitors to the flag, which amounts to the same thing. I tell you, Tom, you came mighty near getting yourself into serious trouble by calling Hawkins a coward. If ever fire came from a man's eyes it came from his. What in the world made you do it?"

"I called him a coward when he declared that he wouldn't fight the Yankees any more, because I thought he was one," replied Tom. "And I still think so. There were several other soldiers in there, and I supposed of course they would stand by me. They all know my father, and some of them are under obligations to him; but instead of backing me in my efforts to make Hawkins ashamed of himself, they stood by and let him talk as he pleased. I was glad to hear him say what he did about Beardsley."

"Do you think he told the truth?" asked Mark.

"I am sure of it; for if Beardsley didn't say something to him, how would Hawkins know that there was a big pile of money in Mrs. Gray's house? I'm free to confess that I am getting scared, and if I knew any safe place around here I would go to it."

"Here, too," exclaimed Mark. "But, Tom, this state of affairs can't last long. Unless we are whipped already, and I never will believe that till I have to, these places will all be taken from the enemy, and then there can be something done toward driving from the country such fellows as Hawkins and – "

"And such fellows as this one coming," added Tom, with a slight nod toward Marcy Gray, who just then came out of the post-office.

"Won't he hold his head in the air now?" exclaimed Mark, in disgust. "If he doesn't know by this time that he is the biggest toad in this puddle, it isn't Hawkins's fault. Doesn't it beat the world how some people can hold their own with a whole settlement against them?"

Marcy Gray did not look as though he thought himself better than anybody else, but he did look astonished and perplexed. The scene he had just witnessed, and the words to which he had listened, almost dazed him. If any one had told him that such sentiments could be littered in a town like Nashville, nine out of ten of whose citizens were supposed to be good Confederates, without a tragedy following close upon the heels of it, he would have thought the statement an absurd one for any sane man to make. Marcy knew then, as well as he did when he afterward read it in one of his papers, that the people of North Carolina were not ardently devoted to the Confederate cause. In fact "they did not care much for either party; but while a large number of them would have liked to wait for the issue of the struggle to declare their preferences, those who remained loyal to the flag of the Union were too much afraid of a turn of fortune to avow their sentiments openly." But it seemed that Hawkins was not afraid to say what he thought of the situation, and only one of the rebels who listened to his speech in the post-office had dared dissent from his views. That was Tom Allison, who came near having his neck "twisted" for his impudence.

"You look surprised, old fellow," was the way in which Tom greeted Marcy when he came up.

"Who wouldn't be?" answered Marcy. "If all the paroled prisoners think that way the Confederate army must be in bad shape."

"But they don't," said Mark hastily. "If some of those Tom and I talked with yesterday were here now, they would make Hawkins sing a different song, I bet you. We found them as strong for the cause, and as spiteful against all Unionists, North and South, as they were when they first went into the army. Hawkins is mad because he got whipped; but he will be all right a week from now. Were you in any battles, Marcy?"

"You can't think how astonished we were when we woke up in the morning and learned that the Yankee sailors had been through our neighborhood, and that nobody, except a few niggers, was the wiser for it," said Tom. "Beardsley says you acted as pilot, but he didn't. He positively refused to do it, and the Yankees put him in irons. Is that so?"

"It is true that Beardsley was put in irons, but not because he refused to act as pilot," replied Marcy. "He didn't get a chance to say whether he would go on the bridge or not, for Captain Benton did not ask him. He was ironed for the reason that he served the crew of the Hollins that way when he captured them."

"Did they treat you well?"

"First-rate. They couldn't have done better if I had been one of them."

"And you were one of them. You couldn't have done more to help them win the fight if you had had a blue shirt on," were the words that trembled on the point of Tom Allison's tongue. But he did not speak them aloud. He had received one severe rebuke that morning, and did not think he could stand another; but Ben Hawkins and his friends, who just then left the post-office and came across the road to the place where the boys were standing, did not hesitate to commend Marcy for the course he pursued while on the gunboat. They came up in time to hear Mark Goodwin say:

"Why didn't you run that ship aground? That's what I would have done if I had been in your place, and it is what Captain Beardsley would have done if he had been allowed the opportunity."

"And been hung up by the neck for his trouble," said Hawkins; and to Mark's surprise and Tom's, he took Marcy's hand in both his own and shook it cordially. It would have pleased them better if Hawkins had knocked Marcy down. That was the way they expected to see Confederate soldiers treat all Union men and boys, and they would have enjoyed the spectacle. "You stay-at-homers don't know nothing about war," continued Hawkins, giving way to his comrades, all of whom shook Marcy's hand one after the other, "and we uns, who have been there, say Marcy acted just right in doing as he did. I'd 'a' done the same thing myself, and so would any other man unless he was plum crazy. Go and get some soldier clothes and shoulder muskets, you two. We've done our share, and now we will stand back and give you uns a chance to see how you like it."

"Don't you intend to return to the army, Mr. Hawkins?" inquired Marcy.

"Well, 'cording to the oath I've took I can't," answered the soldier. "I did promise that I would never fight against the old flag agin, but that's neither here nor there. My year is pretty nigh up, and I'm going to stay around home and eat good grub for a while. I don't mean to say that I won't never 'list again, but it won't be till I've seen some others whopped like I have been."

He looked fixedly at Tom as he said this, and the boy, believing that he would feel more at his ease if he were farther out of the soldier's reach, turned about and went toward the post-office, followed by his friend Mark.

"Say!" whispered Hawkins, as soon as the two were out of hearing. "I aint a-going to ask you where you stand, kase that aint none of my business; but what's this I hear about your maw having a pile of money in the house, and Beardsley and among 'em be so anxious to get it that they brought men up from Newbern, to rob her of it?"

Marcy explained in few words; that is to say, he told what Captain Beardsley thought, but he did not acknowledge that there was money in or about the house with the exception of the small sum he had offered the robbers, and which they refused to take. And then he asked Hawkins how he happened to know anything about it.

"I know pretty much everything that's happened here sense I went into the army, and what's more, I know why it happened," was the answer. "My folks told me about it soon's I got home. I know, too, that some of your friends have gone into the Yankee service; but you've got a few yet, and you see them right here with gray jackets on. Say nothing to nobody; but there's skursely a poor man around here who aint beholden to your folks for something or other, and if you get into trouble we're bound to help you out."

"I am very grateful to you for the assurance," said Marcy. "But do you know that if you do not go back to serve your year out, you will be treated as deserters?"

"We know all that, and we know better'n you do how they treat deserters in our army; but it's a good plan to catch your rabbit afore you cook him," said Hawkins, with a grin. "My folks wanted me to stay home the worst kind and see who was going to whop afore I took sides, and I'm mighty sorry I didn't listen to 'em. Look out what you're doing, you babolitionist," exclaimed Hawkins, as old Morris elbowed his way through the group to Marcy's side. "We rebels will eat you up."

"I don't care what you do to Morris so long's you let Marse Mahcy be," said the black man, who was almost ready to cry when he saw the boy standing before him as sound as he was when he left home. "The Yankees done kill him – jes' look at that hand of hisn – and now you rebels done pester him plum to death."

"Go 'long now, Uncle Morris. We aint worrying on him and he will tell you so," replied Hawkins good-naturedly. "But our critter-fellers are round picking up all the darkies they can find and making soldiers of 'em, and you had best watch out. Don't go outside the two-mile limit, or, better yet, don't put your nose out of doors after dark."

Hawkins and his comrades walked away, and old Morris turned a very badly frightened face toward Marcy.

"Don't mind them," said the latter. "They're soldiers, and of course they must have their fun. You need not think that the rebels will ever put faith enough in you black ones to trust you with muskets in your hands."

"They'd better not," said Morris. "How you come here, Marse Mahcy? I been waiting two days for you."

The boy explained that Julius had found him in the creek and helped him home, and the old fellow did not appear to be well pleased with the news, for he walked off, muttering to himself and shaking his head with every step he took, to bring up his mule and Marcy's horse. The latter did not wait for him, but mounted and rode homeward; and he was in so anxious and unsettled a frame of mind that he could not bring himself to take his papers from his pocket. The situation was something he had never dreamed of, and Marcy did not believe it would last for any length of time. The Confederate authorities would not permit enlisted men to roam at large through the country, talking as Hawkins had done, but would soon put a stop to it by some violent measures, and bring their disaffected soldiers to punishment at the same time. The paroled prisoner was angry over the result of the battles at Roanoke Island; he must have been or he would not have expressed himself so freely. And when Marcy reached home and talked the matter over with his mother, and became quieted down so that he could read his papers understandingly, he found that there were some high in authority who were angry over it also; General Wise for one, who said in his report that "Roanoke Island, being the key to all the rear defences of Norfolk, ought to have been defended at the cost of twenty thousand men." But General Wise did not stop there. He sent a protest to the Confederate Congress, censuring both the President and Secretary of War, and the upshot of the matter was that Mr. Benjamin became so unpopular that he was forced to resign. The general's letter also opened the eyes of the Confederate government to the fact that the people of North Carolina were not half as loyal to the cause as they ought to have been, and that something would have to be done about it. If the Southern men would not enter the army willingly, they must be compelled to come in; and this the government straightway proceeded to do. Almost the first move that was made brought about the thing that Marcy Gray most dreaded, and made a refugee of him.

CHAPTER XIV.

A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY

Marcy Gray served as pilot on Captain Benton's vessel for a period of ten days, counting from February 8 to the time the fleet set sail for Newbern; but the work the Burnside expedition had to do was not finished until April 26, when Fort Macon, in Georgia, surrendered, after a short, but brisk, bombardment. This fort was commanded by a nephew of the Confederate President, who, in response to a summons to surrender, declared that he would not yield until he had eaten his last biscuit. The Union commander thought that a man who could talk like that would surely do some good fighting, but he was disappointed. A few hours' pounding by gunboats and shore batteries brought the boastful rebel to his senses, and he was glad to escape further punishment by hauling down his own flag, and sending a white one up in place of it.

The Union forces were successful everywhere along the coast; not once did they meet with disaster. The nearest they came to it was when that terrible northeast gale struck them off Hatteras, and with that gale they had their longest and hardest battle. Of course, Marcy Gray did not get what he called "straight news" regarding these glorious victories, but his rebel neighbors confessed to defeat in every engagement, and that was all he wanted to know. But there was another thing that began troubling him now, and it was something he had not thought of. With the fall of Newbern, and the occupation of the principal towns by the Federal troops, the regular mails from the South were cut off, and, for a time, the village of Nashville had little communication with the outside world. Even rebel news, distorted, as it was, out of all semblance to the truth, was better than no news at all, and Marcy declared that there was but one thing left for him to do, and that was to ride around and gossip with the neighbors, as Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin did. His short experience aboard the gunboat filled him with martial ardor, and, if his mother had only been safely out of harm's way, he would have tried every plan he could think of to find Jack, and then he would have shipped on his vessel. Being shot at six hours out of twenty-four he thought was better than living as he was obliged to live now. If he were an enlisted man he would know pretty nearly what he had to face; now he had no idea of it, and that was another thing that troubled him. The news of the victories that were gained so rapidly, one after another, did much to keep up his spirits, but had the opposite effect upon Allison and Goodwin, who could not find words with which to express their disgust. These two, as we have said, spent all their waking hours riding about the settlement comparing notes, and going first to one man, and then to another, in the hope of hearing something encouraging; but they passed the most of their time with Beardsley, who seemed to be the best-informed man for miles around. Of course they did not place a great deal of faith in what the captain told them; but he was always ready to talk, and that was more than other people seemed willing to do. Since Ben Hawkins denounced him in the post-office, Beardsley did not ride around as much as he used to do. He thought he had better stay at home until the effect produced by the rebel soldier's speech had had time to wear away.

On the morning of the 11th of March Tom Allison stood on the front porch of his father's house, thrashing his boots with his riding-whip, and waiting for his horse, which he had ordered brought to the door, when he saw Mark Goodwin coming up the road at a furious gallop. The two generally met at the crossroads, a mile away, and Tom knew in a moment that something unusual had happened to bring Mark to the house; consequently, he was not much surprised when he saw that the visitor's face was as white as a sheet.

"What's broke loose now?" exclaimed Tom, when his friend dashed into the yard and drew up in front of the porch. "You look as though you were frightened half to death."

"Frightened! I am so elated that I can't stay on my horse a moment longer," replied Mark; and suiting the action to the word he rolled out of his saddle, pulled the reins over his horse's head, so that he could hold fast to them, and sat down on the lowest step. "Why don't you whoop and holler and dance and – we've licked them off the face of the earth. Have they been here yet?"

"They? Who?" cried Tom. "What do you mean, any way?"

"I mean that you had better hide your hunting outfit and be quick about it," answered Mark. "They took mine away from me just now, and I came here on purpose to warn you. You see it was this way," added Mark, as Tom came down the steps and seated himself by his friend's side. "The stories that have been spread abroad about her being no good, and so heavy that her engines could not move her from the dock where she was built, were all lies that were got up on purpose to fool the Yanks; but three days ago, that was on the 8th – "

"Look here, Mark, you've got two stories mixed up," exclaimed Tom.

"Two? I've got half a dozen, and I don't know which to tell first. And the beauty of it is, they are all good ones."

"You said somebody had taken your hunting rig away from you," Tom reminded him. "Do you call that a good story?"

"I didn't think about that when I spoke," replied Mark, jumping up and looking around for a place to hitch his horse. Then he calmed himself by an effort, and went on to say: "This morning I received all the proof I want that we are for a time a subjugated people – that the presence of a hostile garrison means something. I had somehow got it into my head that the Yankees would stay inside the forts they have taken from us by their overwhelming numbers, and that they would not have the cheek to come among our people where they know well enough they are not wanted, but now I know that they don't mean to do anything of the sort. They are going to bother us by sending scouting parties through our settlement as often as they feel like it."

The spiteful emphasis Mark threw into his words, and the look of disgust his face wore while he talked, brought a hearty laugh from somewhere. The boys looked up and saw Mr. Allison standing at the top of the steps.

"Of course, Mark, they will do that very thing," said he. "They will make it their business to annoy us in every way they can. Do I understand you to say that they came to your house this morning?"

"Yes, sir, they did," said Mark angrily. "There were about fifty of them in the party. They asked for father, and when he sent back word, as any other Southern gentleman would have done, that he would hold no intercourse with the invaders of his State – "

"Was your father crazy enough to send them any such message as that?" exclaimed Mr. Allison, who was very much astonished.

"Of course he sent them that message," replied Mark, becoming surprised in his turn. "Wouldn't you, if you had been in his place?"

"Indeed, I would not," said Mr. Allison, decidedly.

"My father is a brave man," added Mark, in a tone which implied that that was more than he could say of the gentleman to whom he was speaking. "He looks down on a Yankee."

"So do I; but that is no reason why I should make a fool of myself when they come to my house fifty strong and send word that they want to see me. It's a wonder they didn't hang your father, or take him away with them."

"We thought that was just what they meant to do," said Mark, with a shudder, "for four or five of them came rushing into the house, and I tell you they talked and acted savage."

"Well, what did they want?" asked Tom.

"They wanted to know if we had any weapons in the house," answered Mark.

"And when we told them no, they – "

"That was another foolish thing for you to do," Mr. Allison interposed. "Your people must have taken leave of their senses since I last saw them. When you said there were no weapons in the house, they proceeded to search for them."

"That is just what they did," replied Mark, with tears of rage in his eyes. "And we had to stand there and see them pull the house to pieces – "

"And steal everything they could lay their hands on," chimed in Tom.

"Of course. That's a foregone conclusion; although I did hear my mother say that she passed her bedroom door while the search was going on, and there was her jewelry lying on the bureau, and a soldier with a carbine keeping guard over it."

"That was done for effect," declared Tom. "When she comes to look into the matter, she will find that she hasn't so much as a breastpin left. Did they take your father's pocketbook?"

"I haven't the least doubt of it, although I did not see them do it," said Mark, who wished he could add effect to his story by saying that he had seen his father robbed of his money. "They were the very worst-looking lot I ever saw – all Irish and Dutch; not a gentleman among them."

"But what did they steal besides your weapons?" inquired Mr. Allison.

"I didn't see that they took a thing," Mark was obliged to confess, "but, of course, I did not look into their pockets. When father heard them coming, he shoved his revolver between the mattresses on his bed; but he might as well have left it in plain sight, for the first thing those Yankees did when they went into his room was to pull that bed to pieces. Then they went upstairs into my room and walked off with my fine rifle and shot-gun. One of them grinned when he went out, and said that for a place that had no weapons in it, he thought our house had panned out pretty well. I tell you that made me mad."