Kitabı oku: «Marcy, the Refugee», sayfa 13
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."
"And do you think they are coming this way?" asked Mr. Allison.
"I believe they will visit every house in the settlement before they quit," replied Mark; whereupon Tom got up and acted as though he wanted to do something. "They must have robbed other houses before they came to ours, for I noticed that several of them carried sporting rifles and fowling-pieces in addition to the carbines that were slung at their backs. It is my opinion that you had better wake up, if you want to save the guns that cost you so much money."
Mr. Allison evidently thought so, too, for he turned about and went into the house, whither he was followed by Tom and Mark as soon as the latter had hitched his horse. The boys went at once to Tom's room and opened the closet, in which was stowed away one of the finest and most expensive hunting outfits in that part of the State.
"Sooner than let this fall into the hands of the enemy I would break it in pieces over the chopping-block," said Tom, looking admiringly at the handsome muzzle-loading rifle he had carried on more than one excursion through the Dismal Swamp.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," replied Mark. "Take it into the garden, and shove it under some of the bushes. Go ahead and I will follow with the shot-gun; but be sure and take the flask, horn, game-bags, and everything else belonging to them, for if they find part of the rig they will want to know where the rest is."
Mark's suggestions were carried out, and just in the nick of time too; for as the boys were returning from the garden, in which they had hastily concealed the guns and their accoutrements, they heard the pounding of a multitude of hoofs on the road and hastened through the hall to the front porch in time to see a small squad of cavalry ride into the yard, while another and larger body of troopers halted outside the gate. It was plain that Mr. Allison did not intend to follow the example of his foolhardy neighbor, and so run the risk of bringing upon himself the vengeance of the men he could not successfully resist, for he stood out in plain view of them, and even returned the military salute of the big whiskered man who rode at the head of the squad.
"They are the same who robbed our house," said Mark, in an excited whisper. "Will they know me, do you think? And if so, will they do anything to me for warning you?"
Tom Allison did not reply, for his attention was wholly occupied by the Yankee soldiers, the first he had ever seen. They were not ragged and dirty like most of the paroled Confederates who passed through the settlement a few days before. On the contrary, they were well and warmly dressed, and, like the horses they rode, looked as though they had been accustomed to good living.
"Good-morning," said the captain pleasantly. "It is my duty to ask if you have anything in the shape of weapons in your house."
To the surprise of both the boys Mr. Allison replied:
"Yes, sir; I have."
"That's honest, at any rate," said the captain. "Will you please bring them out?"
"Do you intend to take them from me?" said Mr. Allison.
"I think you understand the situation as well as I could explain it to you," answered the soldier, nodding toward Mark Goodwin, whom he recognized as soon as he looked at him; and as if to show that he was not in the humor to put up with any nonsense, he dismounted, his example being quickly followed by his men.
"Of course I will bring them out," Mr. Allison hastened to say. "But they are heirlooms and I don't like to part with them. Besides, they are no longer of use as weapons."
He went into the house as he said this, and the captain, who seemed to be a lively, talkative fellow, and good-natured as well, even if he was a Yankee, turned to Mark and said:
"You beat me here, did you not?"
"I hope there was nothing wrong in my coming," said Mark, beginning to feel uneasy.
"Nothing whatever. You have a right to go where you please and do what you like, so long as you do not set the graybacks on us."
"Graybacks?" said Mark inquiringly.
"Yes. Johnnies – rebel cavalry."
"Oh! Well, there are none around here that I know of, but you can find plenty of them a few miles back in the country," said Mark, who was a little surprised to hear himself talking so freely with this boy in blue who had carried things with so high a hand in his father's house a short time before; and then, emboldened by the sound of his own voice, and prompted by an idea that just then came into his mind, he added: "I can tell you where you will find one rebel and also a rebel flag, if you would like to have it for a trophy."
These words almost knocked Tom Allison over, but at the same time they loosened his tongue.
"That's so, but I never should have thought to speak of it," he exclaimed. "Go back the way you came until you strike the big road, then turn to the left and stop at the first house you come to."
"And remember that you will pass ruins on your left hand before you get where you want to go," added Mark, who did not mean that the Yankee officer should miss his way for want of explicit directions.
"Who lives there?" inquired the latter, looking sharply at the two boys as if he meant to read their thoughts, and find out what object they had in view in volunteering so much information. "He must be a rebel, of course, if he has a rebel flag in his possession."
"His name is Marcy Gray, and he is rebel or Union, just as it happens," said Tom. "He has been pilot on a privateer and blockade runner."
"Aha!" said the captain.
"Yes," continued Tom. "But the minute you Yankees came here and captured the Island he quit business and came home."
"Which was the most sensible thing he could have done," said the officer. "Are there any weapons in the house, do you know?"
Before either of the boys could reply Mr. Allison came out upon the porch, bringing with him the "heirlooms" of which he had spoken – an old officers sword and a flint-lock musket that, so he said, had passed the winter with Washington at Valley Forge.
"If that is the case I'll not touch them," said the captain. "These are all you have, I suppose?"
"There are no other weapons in the house," replied Mr. Allison.
The officer smiled, gave Mark Goodwin a comical look, and then mounted his horse and rode out of the yard without saying another word. Mr. Allison and the boys watched him until he joined his command and with it disappeared down the road, and then Mark said:
"What do you reckon he meant by grinning at me in that fashion?"
"He meant that those 'heirlooms' of father's did not fool him worth a cent," answered Tom. "The next officer who comes here will say: 'Perhaps there are no weapons in the house, but are there any around it?' And then he will turn his men loose in the yard and root up everything. Those guns of mine must go in some safer place as soon as night comes. Now give us one of your good stories, Mark."
"That's so," exclaimed the latter. "The sight of those Yankees made me forget all about it. You know that big iron-clad of ours that's been building up at Portsmouth, don't you?"
"Aw! I don't want to hear any more about her," cried Tom. "She is a rank failure."
"Judging by the stories that have been circulated about her she was a failure; but judged by the work she did three days ago she is a glorious success," replied Mark, pausing for a moment to enjoy the surprise which his statement occasioned among his auditors for now that the Yankees had taken themselves off, without turning the house upside down or insulting anybody, the whole family came out on the porch, and a servant brought chairs enough to seat them all. "She captured and burned the Congress, sunk the Cumberland, and if there had been a few hours more of daylight, she would have served the rest of the Yankee fleet in the same way."
"Why, Mark, when did this happen?" inquired Mrs. Allison.
"And where?" chimed in Tom.
"And how did you hear of it, seeing that the Yankees have rendered our post-office at Nashville useless to us?" said his father.
"It happened on the afternoon of the 8th of March, and the scene of the conflict was Hampton Roads, off the mouth of the James," answered Mark.
"My father told me of it last night, and he first got the news from Captain Beardsley, who – "
"Ah! I was afraid there wasn't a word of truth in it," exclaimed Mr. Allison.
"But it is true, every word of it," said Mark earnestly. "Beardsley always has been half crazy over that vessel, for he says he has seen and talked with sailor-men who have been all over her; and he has more than once declared that, when she was ready for sea, she would make a scattering among the Yankee fleet at Fortress Monroe. He told father that he had heard a letter read that was in some way smuggled through from Norfolk yesterday, and that that letter was written by a man who took part in the fight. All the same father would not believe it until he had seen and read the letter himself. He thinks it is true, and so do I."
"I certainly hope it is," said Mrs. Allison. "But those Yankees who came here a while ago acted more like victors than like beaten men."
Mark Goodwin, who of course got his ideas from his father, declared that they would not act that way much longer; for as soon as the Federal fleet at Fortress Monroe had been disposed of, Commodore Buchanan, the gallant commander of the Virginia, would have his choice of two courses of action: he could not carry coal enough to run up and lay the city of New York under contribution, but he could reduce Fortress Monroe and bombard Washington, or he could come South, scatter Goldsborough's fleet, and recapture Pamlico and Albemarle sounds.
"Glory!" shouted Tom, jumping up and throwing his hat into the air; and even his father began to show signs of excitement. "Tell him not to mind us, but to go up and lay Washington in ashes. Our papers said long ago that it must be purified by fire before Southern legislators would consent to go there again. Well, which course did Buchanan decide to follow?"
"I don't know," replied Mark. "I wish I did; but that letter was written on the evening of the 8th, after the Virginia drew out of the fight and came back to Norfolk."
"Were any of our brave fellows injured?" asked Mrs. Allison.
"Oh, yes. Buchanan himself was wounded, and treacherously too. When the Congress struck her flag and our boats went alongside to take possession of her, she opened fire on us again. That made Buchanan mad, and he riddled her with his big guns till he killed her captain and more than a hundred of her crew."
"She was deservedly punished," said Mrs. Allison, and all on the porch agreed with her, though there was not a word of truth in the story. The volley of musketry that was poured into the Confederate small boats came from the Union troops on shore, who did not know that the Congress had surrendered.
"Go on and tell us some more good news," said Tom, when his friend settled back in his chair.
"That's about all I heard, because the letter did not go much into particulars; but there'll be others smuggled through in a day or two, and some papers, most likely, and then I shall expect to hear that our fellows are in Washington. At any rate the people around here are acting on the supposition that we have got the upper hand of the Yanks, and I want to be able to say that I had a hand in whipping them, so I have joined the Home Guards. So has my father."
"The Home Guards?" echoed Tom.
"I was not aware that there was an organization of that kind in the settlement," said Mr. Allison.
"I didn't either until father told me last night," answered Mark. "And I am a little too fast in saying that I have joined. I am going to hand in my name this very day, and Tom, you must go with me."
"I'll do it," said Tom, getting upon his feet and squaring off at an imaginary antagonist. "What are we going to do? Who are we going to whip, and what is the object of the thing, any way?"
"Well, I – we're going to fight," replied Mark.
"I suppose one object of the organization is to keep the spirit of patriotism alive among our people," observed Mr. Allison.
"That's the idea; and to make the traitors among us shut their mouths and quit carrying their heads so high," cried Mark. "They have had companies of this kind in Kentucky and Tennessee for a long time; and in Missouri the State Guards, as they are called, have done the most of the fighting. Ben Hawkins says that if we had had strong companies of well-disciplined Home Guards around here, Roanoke Island would not have been captured."
"Who cares what Ben Hawkins says?" exclaimed Tom. "He's a traitor; and when he declared that he wouldn't fight for the South any more, I told him to his face that he was a coward."
"Oh, my son," said the doting mother, "I am afraid your high spirit will bring you into trouble some time."
Mark Goodwin knew that his friend's "high spirit" had nothing to do with the scathing rebukes he had received in the post-office. His unruly tongue and his want of common sense were to blame for it.
"Is Mr. Goodwin a member of the Home Guards?" inquired Mr. Allison.
"Then I think I will ride over and have a talk with him. From his house I will go to town and see if I can learn more of that glorious victory in Hampton Roads."
The gentleman went into the house accompanied by his wife, and Tom and Mark descended the steps out of ear-shot of the rest of the family.
"Where shall we go?" was the first question they asked each other.
"I wish we could go to half a dozen different places at once," said Tom, at length. "If we go to Beardsley's we may be sorry we didn't go to town; and if we call on Colonel Shelby, to see if he can tell us anything about that light, we may be sorry we didn't go somewhere else. What do you say?"
"I say, let's ride over to Beardsley's in the first place, and to Marcy Gray's in the next."
"And so follow up that squad of thieving Yankees and see what damage they did? If they overhauled Gray's house I can pretend to sympathize with them, you know, for that was the way they served us."
"Overhaul nothing!" exclaimed Tom in disgust. "Mark my words: I don't believe they went near the Grays; but if they did, they treated them with more civility than they showed my father. Come along, and see if I haven't told you the truth."
Tom's horse was ready and waiting, and a rapid ride of twenty minutes brought him and Mark to a field in which Beardsley was working with some of his negroes. When he saw them approaching he shied a chip he held in his hand at the head of the nearest darky, who caught sight of it in time to dodge, and came up to the fence to wait for them. His actions proved that he was full of good news, for he placed his hands on his knees, bent himself half double, looked down at the ground, and shook his head as if he were laughing heartily. When he reached the fence he pounded the top rail with his fist, and shouted as soon as the boys came within speaking distance:
"Have them varmints been up to your house?"
"Do you mean the Yanks?" answered Mark, as he and Tom reined their horses across the ditch to the place where the man was standing. "I should say so; and you ought to have seen the way they conducted themselves, just because my father stood on his dignity as any other Southern gentleman would."
"Well, he was a fule for standing on his dignity or anything else," said the captain bluntly. "You didn't ketch your Uncle Lon trying to ride no such high horse as that there, I bet you, kase fifty agin one is too many. I was right here in this field when they come along," continued Beardsley, resting his right foot upon one of the lower rails and both his elbows on the top one, for he never could stand alone if there were anything he could conveniently lean upon, "and when they asked me did I have any we'pons of any sort up to the house, I told 'em I had for a fact, and if they didn't mind, I'd go up and bring 'em out. So I clim the fence and went along."
Here the captain went off into another paroxysm of laughter, shaking his head and pounding the top rail with his clenched hand.
"Well, what did you give them when you reached the house?" asked Mark impatiently.
"Nothing in the wide world but an old shotgun that belonged to one of the boys that used to come out from Nashville squirrel shooting once in a while, and that I wouldn't fire off if you'd give me a five-dollar gold piece," chuckled Beardsley. "The rest of my shooting-irons is hid where they won't find 'em. You see I suspicioned that they would do something of this kind as soon's they got a foothold here, and so I toted my guns out in the garden and shoved 'em under some bresh there is there."
"You had better hunt up a better hiding-place for them the first thing you do," said Tom earnestly. "There's where I put mine when Mark warned me, but I am not going to leave them there. The Yankee who came to our house was as much of a gentleman as one of his kind could be, but the next one who comes along may be a different sort. Did they go to Marcy Gray's?"
"Bet your life," said the captain, with another chuckle. "Do you reckon I'd let them miss that place? I sent them there, and they was gone long enough to give the house a good overhauling; but what I can't quite see through – "
"We sent them there too," exclaimed Tom. "Did you see them when they returned? What did they have?"
"I'll bet they made Marcy hand over that fine hunting rig in which he takes so much pride," added Mark. "I'd give a dollar if I could have looked into his face about the time he gave up that boss shot-gun of his, that I have heard him brag about until it made me sick."
"Why didn't they take Marcy himself as well as the guns?" continued Tom. "He couldn't deny that he has given aid and comfort to the Confederates by running the blockade and capturing vessels for them."
"And if he did deny it, how did he explain the presence of that Confederate flag in his house?" demanded Mark.
"Hold on till I tell you how it was," said Beardsley, as soon as the boys gave him a chance to speak. "Them Yankees went up to Grays', like I told you, and I was here when they come back; but they didn't have the first thing."
"Whoop! Then they didn't search the house," yelled Mark. "Marcy and Jack have more shot-guns and sporting rifles than any two other boys in the country."
"Leastwise they didn't find nothing that was contraband of war," said the captain. "Them is the very words they spoke to me."
Tom and Mark looked at each other in speechless amazement.
