| — = J -—— ES Do ] NORTH CAROLINIANA COLLECTION B.W.C.ROBERTS . Marcy. In Action. CASTLEMON’S WAR SERIES. ——_————— MARCY, THE REFUGEE. BY HARRY CASTLEMON, 1” © ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,” AUTHOR OF ' GUNBOAT SERIES, ” BTC., ETC. _“tspoRTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES, Four Illustrations by Geo. G. White, _ PHILADELPHIA : HENRY T. COATES & CO. Marcy in Action. FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS GUNBOAT SERIES. By Harry CasTLEMON. 6 vols. 12mo. FRANK THE YOUNG NATURALIST. FRANK ON A GUNBOAT. i | i | i ; i FRANK IN THE Woops. FRANK BEFORE VICKSBURG, | FRANK ON THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI. FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE. | ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. By Harry Castiemoy. § vols. 12mo. : CONTENTS. F| FRANK AMONG THE RANCHEROS, FRANK aT Don CARLOs’ RANCH. j FRANK IN THE MOUNTAINS. i a i | SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES. By Harry CasTLEmon. 8 vols. 12mo. ; 4 WELW PAGE ; ‘loth. : : | rie Sromrnay's cus Ix ts sige i I. WHat BrouGut BEARDSLEY Home, 5 it: HE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AFLOAT. ‘i | THE SPORTSMAN’S CLUB AMONG THE TRAPPERS. j II, ALLISON Is SURPRISED, . 2 . 23 oq i III. Taz NEIGHBORHOOD GossIP, . 5 . 42 | FRANK NELSON SERIES. By Harry CasTLEMON. 38 vols. 12mo. 4 | Cloth. Zs ‘ IV. VISITORS_IN PLENTY, . 5 f 2 66 | z RS TRADERS. 4 | SNOWED UP. FRANK IN THE FORECASTLE HE Boy TRADE V. Marcy’s Rasa WiIsH, : 3 : : 92 aA BOY TRAPPER SERIES. By Harry CASTLEMON. see ee Cloth. { VI. THE WIsH GRATIFIED, . ‘ z * 116 | THE BuRIED TREASURE. THE Boy TRAPPER. THE MAIL-CARRIER, VII. Marcy Speaks His Minp, dj ‘ . 140 Be eg ROUGHING IT SERIES. By Harry CastLemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth. VIII. Tok ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET, e yy 164 4 | GEORGE IN CAMP. GEORGE AT THE WHEEL. GEORGE AT THE FORT. IX. Loo gree 190 es | : é KIN ILOT, 5 . . . | ROD AND GUN SERIES. By Harry CasTLemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth. . ee Don GORDON’S SHOOTING Box. RoD AND GUN CLUB. , x. BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE, a i) . 214 og THE Youne WILD FowLers. XI. Maroy mv Action, . : Ramiro eB ; | GO-AHEAD SERIES. By Harry CasTLEMoN. 3 yols. 12mo. Cloth. XII. Home Aaatn, _ ‘A 3 ; ‘ 264 es Tom NEWCOMBE. Go-AHEAD. No Moss. XIII. A Reset Soper SPraks, i : _ 987 x i FOREST AND STREAM SERIES. By Harry CastTLemon. 38 vols. 12mo. j XIV. A YANKEE ScouTINe PaRTy, ‘ c 310 e 4 Aoth, is Se | Jor Wayrina. SNAGGED AND SUNK. STEEL Horse. XV. Maroy Srrs SomMEBODY, . 5 . 3840 XVI. A Fri WAR SERIES. By Harry Casttemon. 5 vols. 12mo. Cloth. . IND IN GRAY, . eres eas 361 TRUE TO HIS CoLors. RODNEY THE PARTISAN. VII. Marcy TakEs To THE SWAMB, salut ea OOD, RODNEY THE OVERSEER. | Marcy THE BLOCKADE-RUNNER. XVI Marcy THE REFUGEE. II, Conciusion, . . ° . . . 406 Other Volumes in Preparation, CopyRiaut, 1892, By PorTER & COATES. | ea AE MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ‘CHAPTER I. WIIAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. N this story we take up once more the his- tory of the exploits and adventures of our Union hero Marcy Gray, the North Carolina boy, who tried so hard and so unsuccessfully to be ‘True to his Colors.’’ Marcy, as we know, was loyal to the old flag but he had had few opportunities to prove it, until he took his brother, Sailor Jack, out to the Federal blockading fleet in his little schooner Fairy Belle, to give him a chance to enlist in the navy. That was by far the most dangerous undertaking in which Marcy had ever engaged, and at the time of which we write, he had not seen the beginning of the trouble it was des- tined to bring him. Not only was he liable to / | ee | 4 | ge ed « Pabst eae yee as Sse neat Ue Ve MUMMBT NG Ue Beat doe Waren Ite SECO OT TENE Mt oT Tee Sas PLE 2 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. be overhauled by the Confederates when he attempted to pass their forts at Plymouth and Roanoke Island, but he was in danger of being shot to pieces by the watchful steam launches of the Union fleet that had of late taken to patrolling the coast. But he came through without any very serious mishaps, and re- turned to his home to find the plantation in an uproar, and his mother in a most anxious frame of mind. ; Although Marcy Gray was a good pilot for that part of the coast, and knew all its little bays and out-of-the-way inlets as well as he knew the road from his home to the post-office, his older brother Jack was the real sailor of — the family. He made his living on the water. At the time we first brought him to the notice of the reader he had been at sea for more than . two years, and it was while he was on his way home that his vessel, the Sabine, fell into the hands of Captain Semmes, who had just begun his piratical career in the Confederate steamer Sumter. But, fortunately for Jack, Semmes was not as vigilant in those days as he after- ward became. He gave the Sabine’s crew an ss Ryan a aR WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. 3 opportunity to recapture their vessel and escape from his power, and they were prompt toimprove it. By the most skilful manceu- vring, and without firing a shot, they made prisoners of the prize crew that Semmes had put on board the Sabine, turned them over to the Union naval authorities at Key West, and took their vessel to a Northern port. On the way to Boston, and while she was off the coast of North Carolina, the brig was pursued and fired at by a little schooner which turned out to be Captain Beardsley’s privateer Osprey, on which Marcy Gray was serving in the capacity of pilot. When Jack Gray found himself in Boston, the first thing he thought of was getting home. The Potomac being closely guarded against mail-carriers and smugglers who, in spite of all the precautions taken against them, contin- - ued to pass freely, and almost without detec- tion, between the lines as long as the war lasted, the only plan he could pursue was to go by water. Being intensely loyal himself, Jack never dreamed that Northern men would be guilty of loading vessels to run the block- 4 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ade, but there was at least one such craft in Boston—the West Wind; and through the good offices of his old commander, the captain of the Sabine, Jack Gray was shipped on board of her as second mate and pilot. Her cargo was duly consigned to some house in Havana, but the owners meant that it should be sold in Newbern; and there were scattered about among the bales and boxes in her hold, a good many packages that would have brought the vessel and all connected with her into serious trouble, if they had been discovered by the custom-house officers. When the West Wind was a short distance out from Boston, the second mate learned by accident that one of his best foremast hands was also bound for his home in North Carolina. His name was Aleck Webster, and his father lived on a small plantation which was not more than an houv’s ride from Nashville. Being a poor man Mr. Webster did not stand very high in the estimation of his rich neigh- bors, but that made no sort of difference to Jack Gray, and a warm and lasting friendship at once sprung up between officer and man. WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. 5 Although they belonged to a vessel that was fitted out to run the blockade they were both strong for the Union, and many an hour of the mid-watch did they while away in talking over the situation. All they knew about their friends at home was that they were opposed to secession ; but they dared not say so, because they were surrounded by rebels who would have been glad of an excuse to burn them out of house and home. The two friends got angry as often as they talked of these things, but of course they could not decide upon a plan of operations until they had been at home long enough to ‘‘see how the wind set,”’ and “how the land lay.”” We have told what they did when they got ashore. When they were paid off and discharged in Newbern they made their way home by different routes, Jack arousing his brother in the dead of the night by tossing pebbles against his bedroom win- dow, and afterward going off to the Federal fleet to enlist under the flag he believed in. Aleck Webster remained ashore for a longer time ; and finding that his father belonged to an organized band of Union men who held secret eee EEN Seay wen MIELE Een ican geen Caco “ te ‘ Pepe Sig ee CSE on Bye Gee aL SOD Se ‘ EN re ee 6 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. meetings in the swamp, and whose object. it was to oppose the tactics pursued by their rebel neighbors, he joined his fortunes with theirs, and went to work with such energy that in less that two weeks’ time he had the settle- ment in such a panic that its prominent citizens thought seriously of calling upon the garrison at Plymouth for protection. It was Mrs. Gray’s misfortune to have many secret enemies about her, and the meanest and most dangerous among them were Lon Beards- ley, who lived on an adjoining plantation, and. was the owner and captain of the schooner to which Marcy belonged, and her overseer, whose name was Hanson. Beardsley’s enmity was purely personal ; but with Hanson it was a matter of dollars and cents. The captain took Marcy to sea against his will, because he wanted to persecute his mother; while the overseer was working for the large reward Colonel Shelby had promised to give if Han- son would bring him positive information that Mrs. Gray was in reality the Union woman she was supposed to be, and that she had money concealed in her house. When WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. 7 Sailor Jack had been at home long enough to find out how and by whom his mother was be- ing persecuted, he told Aleck Webster about it, and the latter stopped it so quickly that everybody was astonished, and the guilty ones alarmed. While Marcy was gone to take his brother out to the fleet, a very strange and startling incident happened on Mrs. Gray’s plantation. Sailor Jack had predicted that the morning was coming when the negroes would not hear the horn blown to call them to their work, for the very good reason that there would be no overseer on the plantation to blow it, and his prediction had been verified. One dark night, just after Marcy and Jack set out on their perilous voyage, a band of masked men came to the plantation, took Hanson, the overseer, out of his house and carried him away. Where he was now none could tell for certain ; but Marcy had heard from Aleck Webster that he had been “‘turned loose with orders never to show his face in the settlement again.” Perhaps he had gone for good; but the fear that he might some day come back to “YARIS PAL AES SEDO SET SRE RIN IRAN ee cite aberdeen accene aa 8 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. tiouble her caused Mrs. Gray no little uneas- iness. While every one else in the settlement was so excited and uneasy, and wondering what other mysterious things were about to happen, Marcy Gray was as calm as a Summer’s morn- ing. To use his own words, he was “< setting ready to settle down to business.” The over- seer being gone, there was no one but himself left to manage the plantation; and he was glad to have the responsibility, for it gave him something to occupy his mind. When Aleck Webster told him that Hanson would not trouble him or his mother any more, he had also given him the assurance that he would never again be obliged to go to sea as Captain Beardsley’s pilot. There was a world of com- fort in the words, and Marcy hoped the man knew what he was promising when he uttered them ; but he thought he would feel more at his ease when he saw Beardsley’s schooner at her moorings in the creek, and Beardsley him- self at work in the field with his negroes. On the morning of the day on which our story begins, the leaden clouds hung low, and ‘WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. 9 the piercing wind which came off the Sound, bringing with it occasional dashes of rain, and scattering the few remaining leaves the early frosts had left upon the trees, seemed to cause no little discomfort to the young horseman who was riding along the road that led from his father’s plantation to the village of Nash- ville. He had turned the collar of his heavy coat about his ears, dropped the reins upon his horse’s neck, and buried his hands deep in his pockets. It was Tom Allison, the boastful young rebel whom Marcy Gray, then the newly appointed pilot of Captain Beardsley’s priva- teer schooner, had once rebuked and silenced in the presence of aroom full of secession sym- pathizers. Allison was on his way to the post-office after the mail, and to listen to any little items of news which the idlers he was sure to find there might have picked up since he last saw them; and, as he rode, he thought about some things that puzzled him. He went over the- events that had taken place along the coast during the last few months, beginning with the bombardment and capture of forts Hat- en Ul 10 MAROY, THE-REFUGER. teras and Clark, and ending with the Confeder- ate occupation of Roanoke Island, and he was obliged to confess to. himself that things did not look as bright for the South now, as they did after that glorious victory at Bull Run. Finally, he thought of the incidents that had lately happened in his own neighborhood, and in which some of his acquaintances and friends were personally interested. In fact he was deeply interested in them himself, and would have given any article of value he owned for the privilege of holding five minutes’ conver- sation with some one who could tell him what had become of Jack Gray and Hanson. “Tecan tell you in few words what I think about it,” said Tom to himself. “* There’s - more behind the disappearance of those two fellows than the men folks around here are willing to acknowledge. That’s what J think. I ‘notice that Shelby, Dillon, and the post- master don’t talk quite as much nor as loudly as they did before Hanson and Gray left so suddenly, and when I ask father what he thinks of it, he shakes his head and looks troubled ; and that’s all I can get out of him. a Fara ne a A im SE SOR RRC crm ica repr rami teinny WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. EL They are frightened, the whole gang of.thom? and to my mind we would all be eat if that Gray family was burned out and ae from the country. They know everything that is said about them, and it beats me where they get the news. The settlement is full of traitors, and probably I meet and speak to some of them every day.” ie While Allison was talking to himself in this strain his nag brought him to a cross-road, and almost to the side of another horseman who, like himself, was riding in the direction of Nashville. The two pulled their collars down from their faces, raised their hats, and looked at each other ; and then Allison was surprised to find that he was in the company of Lon Beardsley, the privateersman and blockade runner. There had been a time when he would not have noticed the man any further than to give him a slight nod or a civil word or two, for he was the son of a wealthy planter, and thought himself better than one who seit! often been seen working in the field with his negroes. There used to be a wide gulf between such people in the South. For RCSD ao ee aan meee see eect ne 12 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. example, N. B. Forrest was not recognized socially while he was a civilian and made the most of his money by buying and selling men and women whose skins were darker than his own, but General Forrest, the man who massacred Union soldiers at Fort Pillow and took their commander, Major Bradford, into the woods and shot him after he had surren- dered himself a prisoner of war, was held in high esteem. To Allison’s mind, Captain Beardsley, who had smelled Yankee powder and run two cargoes of contraband goods safely through the blockade, was more wor- thy of respect than Lon Beardsley the smug- gler, and he was willing to gain his good-will now if he could, for he believed the captain had it in his power to punish Marcy Gray— the boy who had dared to taunt Allison with being a coward because he did not shoulder a musket and go into the army. “Why, captain, I thought you were miles away and making money hand over fist by run- ning the blockade,”’ said Allison, with an awk- ward flourish which was intended for a military salute. ‘‘T hope when you go out again you WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. 13 will be sure and take that, so-called pilot of yours with you, for we don’t want him hang: ine about here any longer. I don’t bene ie arm is so very badly hurt, and neither does anybody else. Iam glad to see 0 safe and sound. When did you get in? ‘In where??? said Beardsley grufily ; and then the boy saw that he was in bad humor about something. “Into Newbern, of course. And when and how did you come up here?” ae ‘“‘T came up last night in the Hattie. “You did? You don’t mean to oe your schooner is in the creek, do you? os claimed Allison, who was surprised ae hear it. “You did not do a very bright thing when you brought her there, for the first thing you . know the Yankees will send some of their gun- boats up to the island, and then you will be blocked in. I should think you would ee stayed at Newbern, where you could run ou and in as often as you felt like it.” “Don’t you reckon I know my own affairs better’n you do?’’ snapped Beardsley. Year didn’t quit a money-making business of my SAS eR, talieds Sah aa et as Bhar We eeer Rae oeT URSIN ee Ne te ee 14 MARCY, THE REFUGER. own free will and come home because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t help my- self.”’ “T don’t understand you,”’ answered Tom, who was all in the dark. “Our authorities didn’t send you home, of course, and the Yankees couldn’t. If your schooner is in good shape——” “*The Hattie is all right,” said Beardsley, with a ring of pride in his tones. ‘She has been in some tight places, I can tell you, and if she hadn’t showed herself to be just the sweetest, fastest thing of her inches that ever floated, I wouldn’t be here talking to you now. And the Yankees did send me home too; or their friends did, which amounts to the same thing. What’s become of Mrs. Gray’s overseer, Hanson ?”? “IT can’t make out what you mean, when you say that the Yankees or their friends sent you home,” replied Allison. ‘We haven’t heard of their making many captures along the coast lately.’ “T dunno as it makes any sort of odds to me what you didn’t hear. I know whatI am talk- WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. 15 ing about. What's happened to Hanson, I ask you?” ‘‘How do you suppose Ican tell? And us you only came home last night, how does it come that you know anything has happened to him?” inquired Tom, who thought he saw a chance to learn something. ‘‘I haven’t seen that man Hanson for a long time.” “Nor me; but I know well enough that there’s something went wrong with him,” said Beardsley very decidedly. ‘I know that he was took out of his house at dead of night by a gang of men, that he was carried away, and that nobody ain’t likely to see hide nor hair of him any more.” ‘That news is old, and I don’t see why you should assume so mysterious an air in speak- ing of it,” said Tom. ‘‘ Your daughter has had time enough to tell you all about it since you came home.’ ‘“But I heard about it before I left New- bern.” “You did! Who told you?”’ ‘Well, I heard all about it.” “What if you did? I don’t see how Han- Ea ee 16 MARCY, THE REFUGER, | son’s disappearance could interfere blockade-running.”” ~ Mebbe you don’t, but I do. If you had been in my place, and somebody had sent you a letter saying that if you didn’t quit business and come home at once, some of your build- ings would be burned up, what would you think then? Do you reckon it would ce your blockade running or not?” : Do you pretend to tell me that you re- ceived such a letter?” cried Allison, wh could scarcely believe his ears. : “That is just what I pretend to tell you—no ” less,’ answered the captain, tapping the breast of his coat as if to say that he could prove his words if necessary. ““Why—why, who could have sent it to you? Who do you think wrote it?” © You tell. I don’t know the first thing about it; I wish I did. I am here nae and if I could only put my finger on iis chap who caused me all thi | a, e all this bother, I'd fix . ‘““Would you bushwhack him?” Allison, wondering if there was with your inquired any way in WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. 17 which he could prevail upon Beardsley to show him that letter. “No; but I would put the authorities on to him tolerable sudden and have him forced into the army. Because why, I am scart of that chap myself. He’s hanging around here now, waiting for a good chance to do some more meanness.” ‘You don’t say !”’ exclaimed Tom, growing frightened. ‘‘ He ought to be gotrid of. But who is he? Is there any one about here that you know of who has reason to be down on you? Any one besides the Grays, I mean ?”’ Beardsley dropped his reins, pulled the collar of his coat down from his face with both hands, and looked hard at his com- panion. ‘““Why, of course the Grays are down on you heavy, and all your friends and mine know it,’ continued Tom. “ You know it, don’t you?” “There, now!’ exclaimed the captain, re- arranging his collar and picking up his reins again, =“ I never once thought of blaming it on that there Marcy.” 2 18 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. ‘I don’t blame it on him, and I don’t want you to think so for a moment,”’ said Tom, who had not yet arrived at the point of being con- fidential with Beardsley. ‘‘I never hinted that Marcy wrote the letter; but just look at the way the thing stands. ‘A man who knows as much about this coast as you do never wanted a pilot, but you did want to marry Mrs. Gray’s plantation; and when she gave you to understand that she wouldn’t have it S0s a “See here, young feller, you’re going too fur,” cried the captain, pulling his collar down with one hand and shaking his whip threateningly at Allison with the other. ‘**'You don’t know what you’re talking about, and I won’t hear another word of it.” ‘“What’s the use of getting mad because somebody tells you the truth?’’? demanded Tom. ‘Every one says so, and what every one holds to can’t be so very far wrong. You know you don’t need a pilot, and I know it too. You have nothing against Marcy Gray personally——”’ ‘“Tain’t, hey ?”’ shouted the angry captain. y _ WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME. 19 “‘He’s just the biggest kind of a traitor that ever——”’ “That isn’t what Iam trying to get at, and you know it,”’ interrupted Tom. ‘‘ You want to hurt him and his mother by taking him to sea against his will and hers. Now if you were in Marcy’s place, and knew all these things, as he most likely does, and you saw a good chance to get even with the man who was persecuting you, would you let that chance slip? I reckon not.” ‘ But if it’s Marcy who has been a-pestering of me, how can I prove it on him?” inquired Beardsley, who was as angry as Allison had ever known him to be. ‘* Let me see the letter,” replied Tom. ‘“‘No, I reckon not. What do you want to see it fur?”’ ‘“*T can tell you whether or not Marcy Gray wrote it, for I know his hand as well as I know my own.” Beardsley hesitated. Ever since the morn- ing he took the letter in question from the office in Newbern, he had been burning with anxiety and impatience to find out whom he a Rieaw bs stds leans ee Sts 4 ae 20 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. had to thank for sending it to him, and he was _ now on his way to call upon his friends Shelby and Dillon to see if they could not put him on the track of the writer. He wanted to ask them what they thought of the whole miser- able business any way, and did not care to show the letter until he heard what they had to say about it. “‘T know the handwriting of every man and boy in this settlement,’ continued Allison, ‘cand if I can’t tell you who wrote it no one can ; not even the postmaster.” This settled the matter, to Allison’s satisfac- tion. The captain opened his coat and drew out the letter, which was written in a hand that was plainly disguised, for the same characters were not formed twice alike. It was not very long, but it was to the point, and ran as follows: This is to inform you that you have spent jes time enough in persecuting Union folks in this settlement on account of them not beleeving as you rebbels do, and likewise time enough in cheeting the goverment by bringing contraband goods through the blockade. And this is to inform you that if you do not immediately upon resep of this stop your disloyal practices and come home at once, you will not find as many buildings standing, when you do come, as you have got standing now at this present time of writing. And this is likewise to inform 2c A ee ne TN RR TT RO ES A AG WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY THOME. 21 you that the first proof that we mean jes what we say, you will get in aletter from your folks, who will tell you that a letter something like this was found on the front gallery of your house ona certain night, and that a lot of dry weeds and stuff was likewise found piled against the back of said house. Proof number 2 will be in the same letter, which will tell you that Mrs. Gray’s overseer has been toted away by armed men, and that he won’t never be seen in this settlement again. For every day you delay in coming home immediately after this letter has had time to reach you in Newbern, you will loose a build- ing of some kind or sort, beginning with the house you live in. This is from those who believe in defending the wemen and children you rebbels are making war on, and so we sign our- selves, Tue PERTECTORS OF THE HELPLESS. ‘Marcy Gray never had a hand in getting up this letter, more’s the pity,”’? thought Tom, as he again ran his eye over the plainly written lines in the hope of finding something that would give him an excuse for saying that Marcy did write it. ‘‘ Look at the spelling and the bungling language! Marcy couldn't do that if he tried.”’ “Well, what do you reckon you make of it?’? demanded the captain. “Tt?s perfectly scandalous—the most out- rageous thing I ever heard of!’ exclaimed Allison. ‘ Just think of the impudence this fellow shows in ordering you—ordering, I say—— ? 22 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ‘*Oh, there’s more’n one feller mixed up in it,” said Beardsley, with a groan. “*Perhaps there is, and then again, perhaps there isn’t,” replied Tom. ‘Couldn’t I write a letter and sign a hundred names to it, if I wanted to? I say it isa burning shame that good and loyal Confederates should submit to be ordered about in this way, and you were foolish for paying the least attention to it. You ought to have gone on with your business and come home when you got ready.”’ Beardsley turned down the collar of his coat, threw his left leg over the horn of his saddle, and shook his whip at Allison as if he were about to say something impressive. CHAPTER II. ALLISON IS SURPRISED. a H, I mean it,’”? said Tom, and one would have thought by the way he shook his head and frowned and made his riding-whi¢ whistle through the air, that it would be use- less for anybody to try to order him around. ‘‘ Just try me and see ; that’s all.” “And if you had been. in my place you wouldn’t have come home till you got good and ready ?”’ said Beardsley. “You bet I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be guilty of setting such an example to the timid ones at home. This is the time when every man——” ‘‘How many buildings have you got in this part of the country?’’ inquired the captain, shutting his right eye and laying his finger by the side of his nose. ‘‘ Have you forgot the men who took Hanson away in the night, and 23 RE TOTP ARN RT 24 MARCY, THE REFUGEE, piled up those weeds and stuff up agin my house?”’ “Well, that’s so; but still I don’t think they would have been bold enough to do any- thing to you. You are a wealthy planter, while Hanson was nothing but a common over- seer, without a friend or relative in the world so far as any one knows. Did you receive the proofs this letter speaks of ?”’ ** You bet I did,’’ answered Beardsley, shak- ing his whip in the air. ‘My daughter got old Miss Brown to write to me just as them Pertectors of the Helpless—dog-gone the last one of ’em—said she would, and sure as you live she found another letter on the gallery, and a whole passel of stuff piled up agin the house, ready to be touched off with a match ; and the very same night Mrs. Gray’s overseer was carried away. When she told me all them things and begged me to come home I thought Thad best come. But I don’t mean to let the matter drop here, tell your folks. The fellers who wrote that letter must be hunted down and whopped like they was niggers. Did Marcy Gray do it ?”’ ALLISON IS SURPRISED. 25 “‘T can’t swear that he didn’t,’ replied Tom guardedly. ‘But if he did, he dis- guised his hand so that I do not recognize it. I can’t find the first letter in it that looks like Marcy’s work.”’ Beardsley seemed disappointed as he re- turned the letter to his pocket and buttoned his coat, and Tom Allison certainly was. Two or three times it was on the end of his tongue to declare that Marcy was the guilty one, but he lacked the courage. He was afraid of the mysterious men who had begun to carry things with so high a hand in the settlement, for he did not know how soon they might turn their attention to him or to his father’s property. “Marcy is quite mean enough to do a thing of that kind, hoping to bring you home so that you would not take him to sea any more,’’? said Tom, who could not resist the longing he had to say something that would lead Beardsley to declare war upon the boy who had served as his pilot. ‘‘He may have writ- ten the letter, but he could not have piled that light stuff against your house, for he was 26 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. not at home when the thing happened. Has it struck you that the work must have been done by some one who belongs on your plan- tation? Your dogs would have raised a ter- rible racket if a stranger——” ‘* No, it wasn’t,” said Beardsley earnestly. ““The dogs made furse enough that night to wake up everybody in Nashville; but they flidn’t none of ’em do nothing, and that shows that they were afraid of the crowd that was there. My folks was that scared that they dassent none of ’em look out of the winder; but the next morning the letter that was put on the gallery and the stuff to burn the house was both there.”’ “Its very strange that I never heard of it before,” said Tom, who could not help telling himself that the recital made him feel very uncomfortable. ‘It’s just awful that things like these can go on in the settlement and no- body be punished for them.” “Well, it ain’t so strange that you didn’t hear of it, when you bear in mind that my folks didn’t say much about it for fear that they might speak to the wrong person,”’ said ne eee POET ER RIPON NN ALLISON IS SURPRISED, HE Beardsley. ‘‘I reckon it was done by the same fellers who took Hanson away to the swamp. Ain’t nary idee who they were, have you ?”’ ‘“‘Nary an idea. I wish I had, so that I could expose them. Why, just think of it, captain! If things like these are allowed to go on, who is safe? How do we know but you or I may be marched off in the same way some dark night ?”’ “T don’t know it, and that’s just what’s a- troubling of me,’ said Beardsley, groaning again and rubbing his gloved hands nervously together. ‘‘Such doings is too shameful to be bore any longer. There’s a heap of traitors right here amongst us, and I don’t see how we are going to get shet of ’em.”’ “That’s the thought that was runningin my mind when I met you,” said'Tom savagely. “T know who some of the traitors are, but the truth is, they are so cunning you can’t prove the first thing against them. There’s that Marcy Gray for one.”’ ‘‘Say!?? whispered Beardsley, reining his horse a little closer to Tom’s and tapping the fecpielait hd oa Cte ta 28 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. boy’s shoulder with his riding-whip, ‘you have hit the very identical idee I have had in my mind for a long time. If Marcy ain't a traitor, what’s him and his mother keeping that money of theirn stowed away so quiet for?” ‘‘Say!’’ whispered Allison in his turn, at the same time laying the handle of his own whip lightly upon the captain’s knee, ‘“ that is something I have thought about more times than I can remember. If they haven’t got money, and plenty of it, hidden somewhere, I am mistaken. You know that before Marcy came home from school his mother made a good many trips to Richmond, Newbern, and Wilmington ; and everybody says those trips were not made solely for the purpose of buy- ing supplies for the plantation.” ‘*T know it,”’ assented Beardsley. ‘““When Mrs. Gray came home she made a big show of parading all her niggers in bran’ new suits of clothes,’ continued Allison. ‘*“But she did not have to go to three cities to buy the cloth those clothes were made of, did she? She’s got money, and I am sure of it.” nip chinandcnnrateale reenter Ne RC CA ROC NAP ALLISON IS SURPRISED. 29 “T know it,” said Beardsley again. “I tried my best to make Marcy say so, but he was too sharp for me. You see his share of the prize-money the Hollins sold for amounted to seventeen hunderd dollars.” ‘Great Moses!” ejaculated Tom. ‘‘ What a plum for that traitor to put into his pocket! I wish I had it. But he told me he was to get eight hundred and fifty dollars.” ‘‘P’raps he did, for that was what the fore- mast hands got ; but I promised to give Marcy more for acting as pilot and I done it, consarn my fule pictur’! I wanted to get on the blind side of him, so’t he would sorter confide in me for a friend, don’t you see? But I didn’t make it. That boy might have cleared five thousand dollars if he had took out a venture the first - time we run the blockade, but he wouldn’t do it for fear he might lose the money. He said he might want to use them seventeen hunderd before the war was over.” ‘Nonsense !’’ exclaimed Tom. “That?s what I thought,’ replied Beards- ley. ‘‘Seventeen hundred dollars are not a drop LE ER EINER I Ie ICD 30 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. in the bucket to the sum he and his mother have on hand at this moment, and I’ll bet on it,” added Tom. ‘They’ve got thousands, and I wish I could have the handling of some Olit.22 That was what Captain Beardsley wished ; but the trouble was he did not know where the money was concealed, or just how to go to work to get hold of it. He had a partly formed plan in his head, but he did not think that it would be quite safe to let Tom into the secret of it. At any rate, he would tell all his news first, and think about that afterward. ‘“‘That boy Marcy is a plum dunce to act the way he is doing now,”’ said the captain, after a little pause. ‘‘If he would go into our navy, and this war should happen to last a year or so longer, he would make a big officer of him- self.” ‘“‘Tt won’t last six months longer,’ said Allison confidently.. ‘‘The Yankees can’t stand more than one Bull Run drubbing. But tell me honestly, captain: Did Gray really show pluck on the night he got that broken arm ?”? ALLISON IS SURPRISED. _ 31 “He did for a fact,’ replied Beardsley. ‘“‘He stood up to the rack like a man, and took the schooner through the inlet with that arm hanging by his side as limp asa dish-rag. Pm free to say it, though I ain’t no friend of his’n.”’ ‘“‘Tam sorry you said it in the letters you wrote home to Shelby and Dillon. Iwish that splinter, or whatever it was, had hit his head instead of his arm, for he carries himself alto- gether too stiff-legged on the strength of it. If he had whipped the whole Yankee fleet he could not throw on more airs. But why do you say he could win promotion by enlisting in owr navy? Do you- think he would go among the Federals if he wasn’t afraid ?”” ‘“‘That?s where he would go if it wasn’t for his mother. It’s where his brother Jack is at this minute.” “Captain,”? said Tom impressively, “vou and I ought to be the very best of friends, for we think alike on a good many points. pees body, I don’t know who it was, gave it out through the settlement that Jack Gray went to Newbern to ship on a Confederate iron-clad ; “Ae ER NE RESON TO IE 82 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. but I didn’t believe it, and I don’t think so now. If he and Marcy wanted to go to New- bern they would have gone by rail, wouldn’t they? Instead of that they went in Marcy’s schooner.” : “IT don’t care what anybody has give out or what anybody thinks,” said Beardsley doggedly. ‘‘I know what I know, and believe what I have seen with my own two eyes, don’t I? While I was standing into Crooked Inlet on my way—say ! I don’t know as I had best tell you what I seen with my own two eyes.” ““Why not?”? demanded Allison, who was sure he was about to hear some exciting news. ‘You have already told me more than you had any business to tell, if you don’t think I can keep a secret.”’ : “‘Well, that there is a fact. Look a-here. I aint said a word to nobody about this, and you mustn’t let on that I told you; but while I was running into’Crooked Inlet on my way home from the last trip I made to Nassau, I didn’t see the steam launch that I was afraid might be waiting there for me, but I did see Marcy Gray’s schooner.”’ ALLISON IS SURPRISED. 33 ““Isn’t that what I said?” exclaimed Tom gleefully. ‘‘Whatwas Marcy Gray’s schooner doing outside, and in the night-time, too?” ‘Hold on till I tell you how it was,”’ re- plied the captain. ‘‘The first thing I see was that the schooner had been disguised, but that didn’t by no means fool your uncle Lon. Them two boys, Marey and Jack, had towed her through the inlet with their skiff and. were just about to get aboard again and make sail, when Trun on to’em in the dark. I was that scared to see’em that I couldn’t move from my tracks, for a minute or two. I thought the Yankees had me sure.’ “Tt almost takes my breath to have my sus- picions confirmed in this way,” said Tom. “Did you watch them to see where they went ?”? “Listen at the fule!’’ exclaimed the cap- tain, in a tone of disgust. ‘Not much, I didn’t watch them boys. I had enough to do to mind my own business ; and knowing what brung them outside at that time of night, didn’t I know where they had started for without watching "em? They didn’t go nigh 84 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. Newbern. They went straight out to the Yankee fleet, and there’s where Jack Gray is, while me and you are riding along this road.” ‘Captain, I wouldn’t have missed seeing you this morning for a bushel of money,” de- clared Tom, whose first impulse was to whip up his horse and carry the joyful news to Nashville. ‘‘Tve got a hold on Marcy Gray now that I shan’t be slow to use.”’ “What are you going to do?” asked Beardsley anxiously. “*P ll let him know who he called a coward before a whole post-office full of people,” said Allison savagely. ‘‘ He will take that word back on his knees and do his best to make a friend of me, or ?1——’” “‘There, now!’ cried Beardsley ; and the tone in which he uttered the words was quite as savage as Tom’s. ‘‘I knew well enough that I had no call to tell you all them things without first speaking to Shelby and Dillon about them.” ‘Of course I shall consult you, before doing or saying anything to Marcy,”’ replied Tom, wishing he had not been so quick to speak the ALLISON IS SURPRISED. 35 thoughts that were in his mind. “TI don’t want you to think that I am going to take these matters out of your hands, for I don’t mean to do anything of the sort.’? ** You had better not. You are nothing but a boy, and you would be sure to make a mess of the whole thing if you tried it. Me and Shelby will deal with Marcy and his mother.” . “T shall be satisfied, so long as you do some- thing to him that he can feel. All I ask is to be around when it is done, so that I can see it. But you will have to be careful, captain. There are some about here who believe that the Grays are the best kind of Confederates.”? ‘““What makes them believe that when me and you know it aint so?” “It’s the way they worked things; and it was about the slickest scheme I ever heard of,” replied Allison. ‘‘Why, captain, they ran down the river past Plymouth and Roanoke, with our flag flying from the Fairy Belles masthead.”’ ‘Of all the imperdence! Where did they get a flag of our’n?”’ ‘*No one knows, unless Jack got it off the : SRP EIR RUS whee a pes! ees Mee EN Oe Ee 36 MARCY, THE REFUGEE, smuggler West Wind, that he piloted into Newbern. Anyhow he got it, fand kept it hung upon the wall of his mother’s house in plain sight of all who went there.’’ ‘Tt was nothing but a cheat and a swindle, I tell you,”’ shouted the captain. ‘Both them boys is Union, and their mother is too. Vl fix ’em!”’ “Tsay again that you had better be careful,” cautioned Tom. “‘Tf it turns out that they are in favor of the South, you will burn your fingers if you touch them; and if they are Union, they have friends to watch over and see that no harm comes to them. Have you for- gotten the men who carried Hanson away in the night ?”’ “No, I ain’t ; and that’s what makes me so mad. We-uns about here can’t do nothing with that money—— Say! mebbe I could tell you something else if you’ll promise never to let on about it.”’ ‘All right. I never will,’’ answered Alli- son, who was becoming impatient to hear all the man had on his mind. Nashville was in plain sight now, and of course there could be ALLISON IS SURPRISED. 37 no more talking of this sort done after they got there. ‘Hold up a bit. Don’t let your horse walk so fast.” ‘What I thought of saying to you is this,”’ said Beardsley, once more sinking his voice to a whisper. ‘‘We-uns who live about here can’t do nothing by ourselves, but we can hint—just hint, I say—to some outsiders that there’s a pile of money in that there house of Mrs. Gray’s that’s to be had for the taking.” “Go on,” said Tom, when Beardsley stopped and looked at him. “TI am listen- ing, but I don’t catch your meaning.” ““T could easy find half a dozen fellers right around here who would be up and doing mighty sudden if I should say that much in their private ears,’ continued the captain. “But mebbe that plan wouldn’t work, I can’t tell till I hear what Shelby thinks about it. But if it don’t work, we might put the Richmond officers onto them.”’ “What good would that do? If there is money in Mrs. Gray’s house the Richmond authorities have no right to touch it.” “Aint they, now!’ chuckled Beardsley. IS i ia BS ct 88 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. “Don’t the law say that we-uns mustn’t pay no debts to the Yankees, but must turn the money over to the fellers at Rich- mond ?”’ “But I am afraid Mrs. Gray doesn’t owe any money to the Yankees.”’ “What's the odds whether you think so or not?2’’ said the captain earnestly. ‘‘ We can hint that she does, can’t we? And can’t we hint furder, that instead of turning that money over, like the law says she must do, - she is keeping it hid for her own use!”’ ‘‘Then why not make a sure thing of it by putting the government officers on the scent the first thing ?”’ ‘“Because they won’t divide, the officers won't. Don’t you see? The other fellers will.” Tom Allison was astonished now, and no mistake. For a minute or two he looked hard at Beardsley, but he couldn’t speak. ‘“‘ What do you stare at me that-a-way for ?”’ demanded the captain. ‘I don’t see nothing so very amazing in what I said. Didn't you tell me a minute ago that you would like OOo ALLISON IS SURPRISED. 39 mighty well to have the handling of some of that there money ?” “Of course I did, and I say so yet; but I wouldn’t dare touch it if it was got in that way. Don’t misunderstand me now,”’ said Allison, when he saw Beardsley gather up his reins and change his riding-whip to his right hand as if he were about to go on and leave Tom behind. ‘If you think it would be quite safe——” , “What other way is there to get it?” snarled Beardsley. ‘‘I wasn’t joking. These here aint no times for joking, and I meant every word I said. Why aint it safe? The folks in the settlement are mostly our friends, and even if they knew that some of the money went into our pockets, they wouldn’t say noth- ing about it.” “They would know it, and my father would say something to me, I bet you. But mind you,” said Tom, as the two turned their horses toward the hitching-rack that stood across the street from the post-office, “if you and your friends think it can be done, I say go ahead and good luck to you. And if you 40 MARCY, THE REFUGEE, make a success of it, as I hope you will, no one will hear from me that I knew a thing about it.” : “And you won’t let on about the other things I have told you ?”’ said the captain, as he dismounted and spread a blanket over his horse. “TI don’t reckon I had oughter said so much. Mebbe Shelby won’t like it.” *¢ Will you tell me what he says after you have hada talk with him? Then you may de- pend upon me to keep a still tongue in my head. As for Shelby, I don’t care whether he likes it or not. Itis none of his business. I know, and have known for a long time, that he and his ring have some things in hand that they won’t let me hear of, and Iam as warm a friend to the South as they dare be, and just as ready to help her.” ‘But you see you’re a boy ; and some men don’t like to take boys into their secrets,”’ re- plied Beardsley. “T know lama boy, but all the same I am a wild horse in the cane and hard to curry. If Shelby and his gang don’t pay a little more attention to me I will make them wish they Se Re Fh aaa cL Pc PUN Crane errata eee Pr aa sgiibetnitaed Se a Lee ene ee ee ALLISON IS SURPRISED. 41 had ; and if Beardsley don’t keep me posted in his plans, ll knock them into the middle of next week. I'll find means to get Hanson’s abductors after him. By George! That’s an idea, and I'll think it over as I ride home.”’ So saying Tom Allison hitched his horse to one of the pins in the rack and followed Beardsley across the street toward the post- Office. Ty RR 1S ESL) PEAS SE ih SONS CEN NOE SIT OE CHAPTER III. THE NEIGHBORHOOD GOSSIP. HE streets of Nashville were almost de- serted, for the cold wind, aided by the driving rain that was falling steadily, had forced all the idlers to seek comfort within doors. The post-office was full of them, and when the captain walked in with Allison at his heels they greeted him boisterously, and asked more questions in a minute than he could answer in ten. First and foremost they wanted to know why Beardsley had come home so unexpectedly, but that was a matter he did not care to say much about. All they could get from him was that he had some im- portant business to attend to. ‘But of course you are going back again,” said one. ‘‘I would if I had such a chance to make money as you have got. But perhaps you are rich enough already.’’ 42 Freepers THE NEIGHBORHOOD GOSSIP. 43 “Well, no; I don’t reckon I'll run the blockade any more,’ replied the captain. ““My schooner is safe and sound now and I want to keep her that way. The Yankees are getting tolerable thick outside, and I don’t Care to have them run me down some dark night and slap me into one of their prisons.” There were at least a dozen persons in the post-office, besides Tom Allison, who knew that Beardsley had other and better reasons for quitting the profitable business in which he had been engaged, and three of them were Shelby, Dillon, and the postmaster. These men knew by the captain’s manner, as well as by the way he looked at them now and then, that he had something of importance on his mind, and they left the store one after another, expecting Beardsley to follow and join them as soon as he could do so without arousing Suspicion. A fourth man was Aleck Webster, who leaned carelessly against one of the coun- ters and listened to what the captain had to say, although he did not seem to pay much attention to it. If Aleck had been so disposed he could have told Beardsley who wrote the 44 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. letter that broke up his blockade running and brought him home so suddenly, and so could several other Union men who were in the office on this particular morning. They went there every day to hear their doings discussed ; and it gave them no little satisfaction to learn that they had aroused a feeling of uneasiness and in- security among the citizens which grew more intense as the days went by and nothing was heard from Hanson. Although Tom Allison knew nothing about the letter that had been left on Beardsley’s porch until the latter told him, there were many in the settlement who knew about it and were wondering who could have put it there. The captain’s negroes were the first to find it out, and Mrs. Brown, the neighborhood gossip who read the letter for Beardsley’s daughter, was the second; and among them all they had managed to spread the story considerably. Tom Allison was like Captain Beardsley in one respect—he could not keep a secret any longer than it took him to find some congenial spirit who was willing to share it with him. He was eager to tell all he knew, and sometimes Fadler EE es Teepe ORE LOR nr gn La pe te 8 NON EN PTS SAE THE NEIGIBORIMOOD GOSSIP. 45 he told a good deal more ; consequently, the first thing he did after Beardsley received his mail and left the office to find the three men who had gone out a while before, was to give his particular friend and crony Mark Goodwin, 4 Swaggering, boastful young rebel like him- self, a wink and a nod that brought him across to Tom’s side of the store. é ‘What is it, old fellow?” whispered Mark. Your face is full of news.” “And so is my head,” replied Tom. ‘‘Iam loaded clear to the muzzle, and anxious to shoot myself off at your head. Iam going to Tide down to exchange a few yarns with Mrs. Brown ; wil] you go along?” : “What's the use?” exclaimed Mark, look- ae through the moist windows into the street. “You won’t get anything but lies out of her. And just see how it rains !”’ “Tt doesn’t rain to hurt anything, and we can’t talk here,” said Tom. ‘I don’t care whether Mrs, Brown tells me the truth or not, ie long as she will aid me in spreading a few items of news that came to my ears this morn- ing. Better go, for I promise that I will sur- 46 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. prise you. You know I rode down with ‘Beardsley.”’ “‘And I rather wondered at it. I can re- member when you used to speak of him ina way that was anything but complimentary. Did he tell you what brought him home?”’ said Mark, ina whisper. ‘‘Come along then. Iam ready to be surprised.”’ The two boys mounted their horses and rode away through the driving rain, and as they rode, Tom Allison electrified his friend by making a clean breast of everything Beardsley had told him, and which he had promised to keep to himself; and observing that Mark was interested and excited by the narrative, Tom added to it a few details of his own invention. He declared that Hanson had told Beardsley, in confidence, that Mrs. Gray owed a big pile of money to Northern men, and instead of turning it over to the government, as the law - provided, she was keeping it for her own use. “And how does it come that Hanson could learn so much of Mrs. Gray’s private affairs ?’? demanded Mark. ‘‘ He didn’t live THE NEIGHBORHOOD GOSSIP. 47 i the house, but in the quarter with the niggers.”’ “Probably some of the house servants Posted him,” answered Tom. ‘You know that prying darkies sometimes find out a heap of things,” have told me great news—Mrs. Gray with a 80ld mine hidden somewhere in her house, and Marcy taking his brother Jack out to the Yan- kee fleet to give him a chance to enlist under the old flag! What are we coming to? What are you going to do about it? You must have Some plan in your head, or you wouldn’t be go- Ing to see Mrs. Brown. You had better be careful what you say in the presence of that old witch, or she may get you into trouble.” “That is the very thing I wanted to talk to you about,’’ replied Tom. ‘What do you think we ought to do? I don’t know whether IT have the straight ofthe story or not, but lam Sure Mrs. Brown has, for Beardsley probably told her all about it as soon as he got home last night. That man can’t keep a thing to himself to save his life. I thought it might be BNE MCLE SALA SORT LTE TENE PT OE EIT eT Oe ac aT eT a 48 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. a good idea to see what Mrs. Brown thinks about it, and to ask her if there is any truth in the report that a band of men has been got to- gether to rob Mrs. Gray’s house.”’ ‘‘T will tell you one thing confidentially,” said Mark. ‘‘If that part of the story isn’t true, a few wags of Mrs. Brown’s tongue will make it true. There are dozens of men right here in this country, and you and I are ac- quainted with some of them, who would jump down on that house this very night if they were sure they could make anything by it.’ “T know that, but I don’t care; do you? I always did despise those Grays, and now that they have shown themselves to be traitors, Isay let them suffer for it. You heard Marcy tell me to puta uniform on before I presumed to speak to him again, didn’t you?” “Yes; andI heard his brother Jack call you a stay-at-home blow-hard. I looked for you to tackle the pair of them the moment they in- sulted you; but you surprised me and all the rest of your friends by keeping perfectly still,”’ observed Mark, who knew well enough that Tom lacked the courage to ‘‘tackle’’ the iT i ale ts cal ncaa ir hectare enn bastion THE NEIGHBORHOOD GOSSIP. 49 brothers, either of whom could have tossed him half-way across the post-office without very much trouble. “I was biding my time,’’ replied Allison, making his riding-whip whistle viciously through the air just above his horse’s ears. “Tt has come now, and if Marcy Gray doesn’t take that insulting word back as publicly as he gave it to me——” ; “Oh, you needn’t look for him to do that. Marcy isn’t that sort of a fellow.” ‘He'll wish he was that sort before I am done with him,” said Tom, with spiteful em- phasis. ‘‘That’s one reason why I am going to see Mrs. Brown. Iwant her to spread it around that Marcy took Jack out to the blockading fleet.’ “She is just the one to do it,” said Mark, with a laugh. ‘And the way to make her go about it as though she meant business is to tell her your story under a pledge of secrecy.”’ ‘* And there is another matter that I want to speak to you about,’’ continued Tom. ‘‘ What scheme ne Shelby and Dillon and the post- nee es cf an a I a Se Bes tre aba RSs ene ining \ Siler wre ntirs a) Sane Ber ewe teem ; ey ES Pr Site wk ak Aa vat eh sat i ia ed LE al 50 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. master and your father and mine got in hand that they take so much pains to keep from us boys?” “T wish I knew,’’ answered Mark, whose face showed that his companion’s words had made him angry. ‘“‘They talk about some- thing or other as often as they get together, and if I take a step in their direction they either send me about my business, or stop talking. And I tell you I don’t like to be treated that way.” ‘‘That is just the way they treat me, and I don’t like it either,’ said Tom. ‘‘More than that, I won’t stand it.”’ “TIT don’t see how you are going to help yourself.” ; ‘“ Perhaps you don’t, but I think I do. Beardsley belongs to the ring, of course, and if he doesn’t keep me posted in all their plans, Tl go to work to upset them.” “Why, Tom, are you crazy?’ exclaimed Mark, who had never been more amazed. “No; but I am mad clear through. I am not willing to go into the army unless I can have an office of some kind, but I am eager to eURenintentr antenna nema ene Ee EES EEE Pe SE TET THE NEIGHBORHOOD GOSSIP. 51 fight traitors here at home; and if those men won't give me a chance to help them, I shall fight on my own hook.”’ ‘But how can you? And how will you go to work to upset their plans when you don’t know what they are? You take a friend’s ad- vice and behave yourself. Why, Tom, I wouldn’t willingly incur the enmity of the Union men about here for all the money there is in the State. They are too desperate a lot for me to fool with. Nobody knows for cer- tain who they are, and that makes them all the more dangerous.”’ About this time the boys dismounted in front of Mrs. Brown’s humble abode—a small log-cabin which Beardsley had built for her in the edge of a briar patch on his own planta- tion. That was the only neighborly act that anybody ever knew the captain to be guilty of ; but then it was not entirely unselfish on his part. Beardsley received important let- ters now and then. He was not good at read- ing all sorts of writing, and when he came upon a sentence that he could not master, it was little trouble for him to run over to Mrs, 52 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. Brown’s cabin and ask her to decipher it for him. And—itisaremarkable thing to tell, but it is the truth—the contents of those letters were safe with Mrs. Brown. She would tell any and every thing else that came to her knowledge, no matter how it might hurt somebody, but who Beardsley’s correspond- ents were and what they wrote about, no one could learn from her. Having sheltered their horses in some fashion behind the cabin, the boys opened the door without knocking, and went in. There were two persons in the single room the cabin con- tained—a little, dried-up woman who sat in a low rocking-chair in front of the fire with a dingy snuff-stick between her toothless gums, and one of Beardsley’s negro girls who had come over to ‘‘slick up things.” ‘How do you find yourself this fine morn- ing, mother?”’ said Tom familiarly. ‘We thought we would drop in to warm by your comfortable blaze, and see if you are in need of any little things we can get for you. By the way,’’ he added, putting his hand into his pocket, ‘‘it’s a long time since I gave anything ree enacnpmsincersinicntaiaiaacnanl N THE NEIGHBORHOOD GOSSIP. 53 toward buying a jar of snuff. Take that till I come again.”’ ‘‘T see the captain has returned ; and quite unexpectedly, too, I am told,”’ said Mark, pull- ing off his dripping overcoat and hanging it upon a wooden peg in the chimney-corner. ‘‘I wish he might find the man who wrote him that threatening letter and broke up his business. I am sure he would make it warm for him.”? ‘““Every one of them triflin’ hounds had oughter have a hickory wore out on their bare backs,’”? said the old woman, in tones which sounded so nearly like the snarl of some wild animal that Tom Allison shud- dered, although he had often heard her speak that way before. . *“Do you know who they are?” “Of course she knows who they are,” ex- claimed Mark. ‘The question is, is she at liberty to tell.’ ‘* Mebbe I know, an’ mebbe I don’t,”’ said the woman, with a contortion of her wrinkled face that was intended fora wink and asmile. ‘I aint one of them folks who tells all they know. Iam a master-hand to keep things | | | =| i | | 4 | i St Ager aOR ES TNE a isi a Ta tk Pee REY RHO Si Sit 54 “MAROY, THE REFUGEE. to myself when they are told to me for a secret.”’ “Everybody knows that, and it is the reason why everybody is so willing to trust you,” said Tom; and seeing that he had not given the old woman quite enough to loosen her tongue, he turned to Mark and added: ‘‘I was sure we would forget it, we are so careless. We came away from your house without ever once think- ing of that side of bacon we were going to bring to Mrs. Brown.”’ “‘T knew we had forgotten something,”’ said Mark regretfully, ‘‘and sure’s you live that’s it. But it will keep till we come again, won’t it, mother? Who did you say wrote that letter ?”’ ““You’re very good boys to be always thinkin’ of a poor crippled body like me, who can’t get about to hear a bit of news on ac- count of the pesky rheumatiz that bothers me night an day,” whined the old woman. “Now when I was a bright, lively young gal——” “Did I understand you to say that Jack Gray had something to do with the abduction THE NEIGHBORILOOD GOSSIP. =D of his mother’s overseer ?’’ interrupted Mark, who knew it would never do to let the old woman get started on the story of her girlhood. ‘You astonish me; you do for a fact!”’ “‘T disremember that. I have spoke Jack Gray’s name at all sense you two have been here,”’ said Mrs. Brown cautiously. “But you did, though. Didn’t she, Tom ?”’ “I thought so, certainly ; and I told myself at the time, that I did not see how Jack could have had any hand in Hanson’s taking off, for I have heard that he was not at home when the thing was done.”’ ‘“*No more he wasn’t to hum. He was on his way to jine the Yankee navy, dog-gone him an’ them,” snapped the woman, whose tongue was fairly loosened now. ‘But he left them be- hine who works as well fur him when he aint to hum as when he is.”’ ‘“* We know that very well,’ said Tom, who was surprised to hear it, ‘‘ but we don’t know for certain who they are. Mark, don’t you see that Mrs. Brown is looking for her pipe ?”’ Mark hadn’t noticed it, but all the same he hunted around on the mantel until he found the Rode Std is vy BO, Ae eye: aM ae, : red se Stark SS Bie al De ek tel ES RPE SIT AS cee en cree nate a pa haT nla Marine ar 56 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. well-blackened corn-cob, but he could not bring ‘himself to light it. He filled the bowl with some natural leaf he saw in a box and handed it to the woman, who set it going with the aid of a live coal which she took from the hearth in her bony fingers. “You two aint furgot the stranger who popped up in Nashville all on a sudden like, about the time that Jack Gray came hum from Newbern, have you?’ continued the old woman, after she had assured herself by a few . long, audible puffs that her pipe was well lighted. ‘‘ Lemme see if I have disremembered his name. No; sounds to me like it was Aleck Webster.”’ “Don’t know him,” said Tom, in a disap- pointed tone. “TJ don’t know him either,’’ chimed in Mark, ‘“‘but I have seen him. You know old man Webster, Tom, who lives about six miles down the main road. Well, Aleck is his son.” ‘“‘Now I do think, in my soul,”’ exclaimed Allison, ‘‘ things have come to a pretty pass when Crackers like those Websters can throw a settlement like this into a panic, and-order THE NEIGHBORHOOD GOSSIP. 57 prominent and wealthy planters like Captain Beardsley to quit business and come home on penalty of being burned out in case of dis- obedience.” “Youre mighty right,’ said Mrs. Brown, who was pleased to hear the captain called a prominent and wealthy planter. ‘‘Sich trash aint no call to live on this broad ’arth. They’re wuss than the niggers, an’ a heap lower down.”’ “But have you any evidence against the Websters ?”’ inquired Mark. “Tve gota plenty. In the fust place they don’t say nothing ; an’ folks as don’t say noth- ing these times ain’t fitten to live. Nowis the day when every man oughter come out an’ show their colors,’ said the woman, quoting from Beardsley. “That means Marcy Gray,” said Tom. ‘‘T wish I could see a gang of armed men take him out of the house and carry him off.”’ “He mustn’t be teched,’”’ said the woman very decidedly. “Who mustn’t—Marcy?”’ exclaimed Tom and Mark in a breath. ‘‘Who said so? 58 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. What’s the reason he mustn’t be touched? He’s a traitor.”’ ‘“ answered Morris, ‘‘I wish you a very good evening, sar—you and ine missus.’ And he passed into the hall, closing the door behind him. Marcy waited until he heard the outer door shut, and then he relse over and took a look at the fallen chandeliers ““Wouldn’t Beardsley be hopping if he Acier that one of his own negroes ee upset his plans?’’ said he. ‘‘I really Woes he would be the death of that girl Nancy. Julius is wide awake, but I do wish he would not keep so much to himself, and that I could place more dependence on what he says.” - ‘But you do not mean to put him to work? said his mother. “Oh, no; and the rascal knows it. He »} would not stay in the field two minutes with- MAROY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 143 out some one to watch him, and he is of use about the house. Now, go and get some sleep, mother, and I will see that things are secure.”’ Once more Marcy made the rounds of the building, and this time he did not find things just as they ought to be. He found how the robbers had effected an entrance. They had cut a hole through the side door so that they could reach in and turn the key in the lock and draw back the bolt. Probably Morris was hiding in the stable when they did it, too badly frightened to give the alarm ; but the robbers would not have done their work en- tirely undisturbed if Bose had not been dead on his mat around the corner. “If Morris and Julius knew this thing was going to happen, I do not understand why they did not warn us,” said Mrs. Gray, when Marcy came back to the sitting-room. “Because they are darkies, and darkies never do what they ought,’? answered Marcy. “They did not want us to be frightened until the time came, and so they stayed awake and watched while we slept. Good-night.” Stas Svcs oaS Dearie ee RSA Oh TAU a a Ni iene oan ee 144 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. When Marcy went up to his room he took his pillows from the floor, and put them on the bed where they belonged. He pushed his revolvers under them, smiling grimly when ne thought of the little use they had been to him when their services were really needed, turned down the lamp, and was about to peer: Be self upon his couch, without mepomae his clothes, when he heard something that had startled him once before—the noise made by a pebble striking against his window. That was - the way in which Sailor Jack attracted his at- tention on the night he came up from Newbern, after piloting that Northern blockade runner safely into port; but who could this person ’ be? The dread of danger, that was upper- most in his mind when he stepped to the set dow and opened it, gave way to indignation when he looked out and saw the boy Julius j low. standing on the ground be ‘Look here, you imp of darkness,”’ he ex- claimed. + oo ‘‘Hursh, honey, hursh !” said Julius, in an excited whisper. ‘Go fru de hall, and look out de oder side.”’ MAROY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 145 “‘What’s out there?” asked Marcy, in the same low whisper. “Nuffin. But you go and look.”’ Marey put down the window and went, knowing that it would bea waste of time to question such a fellow as Julius. When he stepped into the hall he was alarmed to see that it was lighted up so brightly by a glare which came through the wide, high window at the other end that he could distinguish the figures on the wall-paper. He reached the window in two jumps, stood there about two seconds looking toward two different points of the compass, and then faced about, and ran down the stairs. ‘“‘ Mother, mother!” he exclaimed, as he rapped on her bedroom door. “Get up and tell me what to do. Here’s the mischief to pay. Beardsley’s house is in flames.”’ ““O Marcy!” was all Mrs. Gray could say in reply. “Yes. And there’s a little blaze just be- ginning to show above the trees in the direction of Colonel Shelby’s,” continued Marcy. 10 parr eA ae See oS eiutaial babies ee as 146 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. ‘‘This is a dreadful state of affairs,’ said his mother. “‘T believe you; but Aleck Webster told the truth, and those Union men are bricks. Jack will be tickled to death when he hears of it.” “‘T hope he isn’t heathen enough to rejoice over any one’s misfortune. But how can I tell you what todo? What do you want to do?” -“T want to know if you will be afraid to re- main here with the girls while I run over there,” answered Marcy. “Certainly not. Take every one on the place, and save what you can. But, Marcy, you cannot do any work with only one hand.” “No matter. Ican show my good will. I don’t expect to have a chance to save any- thing. The house has been burning so long that the roof is about ready to tumble in. Good-by.”’ Marcy buttoned his coat to keep it from falling off as he ran, caught his cap from the rack as he hurried through the hall, and opened the front door to find Julius waiting for him at the foot of the steps. MARCY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 147 (73 re heey hy everybody !’? commanded Marcy. : S ae girls to go into the house to keep lelr mistress company, and bring the men over to the fire. Hurry up, now!” oS ite on in the direction of the gate, ae se as he was out of sight, Julius sa round and seated himself on the erstep. He sat there about five minutes, and then rose ae and sauntered off toward the ‘ : ‘What tor I want wake up everybody ek said he to himself. «J jes aint going ‘ take fe men ober to de fire to holp save de cap’n’s seas at de cap’n done sick de robbers on - uf him take keer o i dat’s what I say.”’ ee oe oa was right when he told his mother at he would not be in seas i on to assist in say- ae the captain’s property. The roof of ne : vee fell in about the time he reached the a , and when he ran into the yard he could . a mo than follow the example of Beards- a a frightened household, and stand by and on pauls) the fire burned itself out. He ught one glimpse of the captain’s grown-up aid sa Si ERE RMN eee ee ee PNAS alccarthes Mal tec NSS ieee 148 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. daughter standing beside the few things that had been saved, but she straightway hid herself among the negroes, and gave him no opportu- nity to speak to her. He looked toward Colo- nel Shelby’s plantation, and saw that his house, too, was so far gone that there was no possible chance of saving it. : thing that Captain Beardsley forgot, and o which we spoke a short time ago. the band to which Aleck Webster belonged, This was the important He forgot or perhaps he would have contrived some way to make them believe that the man Kel and not himself, was to blame for the raid ye had that night been made upon Mrs. Gray’s house. “< Aleck and his friends must have had the strongest kind of evidence, or they never would have done such work as this,” thought Marcy, as he turned his steps homeward after satisfy- ing himself that there was nothing he could 2 atthe fire. ‘(I wish I knew what that evi- dence is, and how all this is going to end. I wish from the bottom of my heart that the fanatics who are responsible for this state of af- fairs could be in my place for a few days.” MARCY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 149 “‘Thope you asked the captain’s daughter to come over here,” said Mrs. Gray, when her son entered the room in which she was sitting. ** Well, I didn’t,’ was the reply. ‘I meant to, but she didn’t give me a chance to say a word to her. Let her go and bunk with Mrs. Brown, and then there will be two congenial spirits together.” By this time it was getting well on toward morning, and sleep being quite out of the ques- tion, Marcy and his mother sat up and talked until breakfast was announced. The burden of their conversation, and the inquiry which they propounded to each other in various forms, was: What should they say to their neighbors regarding the events of the night ? Should they tell the story of the attempted robbery, when questioned about it, or not? There were many living in the settlement who had not been taken into Beardsley’s confi- dence, who did not know that the Union men were banded together for mutual protection, and some of them were Confederate soldiers ; and what would these be likely to do if they learned that there was a little civil war in SLiuine Rs balusters ae 150 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. progress among their neighbors? The situa- tion was an embarrassing one, and Marcy and his mother did not know how to manage it. ‘‘Tam a-going to trust to luck to help me out,’’ said the boy, who had been gazing stead- ily into his cup of coffee as if he there hoped to find an answer to the question that had been under discussion for the last two hours. ‘‘T don’t believe there will be anything done, one way or the other, until the battle that is going to be fought at Roanoke Island is decided.”’ ‘““Why, Marcy?’ said Mrs. Gray, in surprise. ‘¢ What direct influence can a great battle have on our private affairs ?”’ : “J thought you wouldn’t fall in with my. notions, but I think I am right,’ replied Marcy. ‘‘If the rebels win, look out for breakers. This part of the State will be over- run with soldiers, who will shoot or drive out every one who is suspected of being friendly to the old flag, and such fellows as Beardsley and Shelby and Allison will be out in full force to hie them on. If the Federals win, as I hope they may, and occupy the Island and Plym- MARCY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 151 outh and other points about here, our stay-at- home rebels will crawlinto their holes, and you will not hear a cheep from them.”’ ‘But all that is in the future,’ said Mrs. Gray. ‘* And what we want to know is how to con- duct ourselves to-day,’’ added Marcy. ‘I know that, and, as I said before, I am going to trust to luck. Ican tell better what to say after I have mingled for a few minutes with the crowd I shall meet at the post-office.”’ . ‘Do any of the Union men ever go there?” inquired Mrs. Gray. ‘‘T have seen Webster there once or twice, but as to the rest, I cannot say; for I do not know them.”’ : “T shouldn’t think they would go there for fear of being arrested.”’ ‘* Who is there to arrest them ?”’ “‘T don’t know; but I suppose the postmas- ter could bring a squad of soldiers from Plym- outh, could he not ?2’’ “Yes, but he would have to bring another squad to watch his house and store after the one that made the arrest went away,” answered RS ae pda ie nae Ue ook ee ih aaa tatiana eee 152 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. Marcy. ‘‘If the Nashville people attempt to. manage this thing themselves, I am afraid their town will go up in smoke.”’ Going to the post-office, on this particular morning, was one of the hardest tasks the boy had ever set for himself. He wished he could hit upon some good excuse for sending Morris in his place, and indeed the old fellow offered to go when he brought up Marcy’s horse, add- ing: “Pm jubus that they will ask you a heap of questions that you won’t want to answer. They won’t say nothing to Morris, kase a pore nigeah never knows nothing.” “Pye got to face them some time, and it -might as well be to-day as next week,”’ replied Marcy, slipping into the coachman’s hand one of the gold pieces that Julius had given him the night before. ‘‘Let Julius entirely alone, and the next time you hear of any plans being laid against us, don’t keep us in ignorance. Come to us at once, so that we may know what we have to expect.” “Thank you kindly, sar,’’ said Morris, tak- ing off his hat. ‘‘Tll bear that in mind ; but MARCY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 153 you see, Marse Marcy, I didn’t want for to _ pester you and your maw. I was on the _ watch.”’ “But you were frightened to death, and that little imp Julius was the one who helped us,”’ thought Marcy, as he swung himself into the saddle, with the coachman’s assistance, and rode away. ‘‘ Well, I was frightened myself, but I couldn’t run and hide.” When Marcy came to Beardsley’s gate, he thought it would be a neighborly act for him to ride in and ask if there was anything he could do for the captain’s daughter ; but she was not to be seen. Marcy afterward learned that she had taken up her abode with Mrs. Brown, with whom she intended to remain un- til her father could come home and make other arrangements for her comfort. There were a few negroes sauntering around in the neighbor- hood of the smoking ruins, and among them was the girl Nancy, who looked at him now and then with an expression on her face that would have endangered her life if her master could have seen and understood it. The boy was glad to turn about and ride away from the 154 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. scene, for it was one that had a depressing ef- fect upon him. ‘“‘ Beardsley brought it upon his own head,” was what he told himself over and over again, but without finding any consolation in the thought. ‘‘It is bound to make him worse than he was before—it would make me worse if I were in his place—and nobody knows what he will spring on us next.” As Marcy had expected, his arrival at the hitching-rack in front of the post-office was the signal for which Tom Allison, Mark Good- win, and a few others like them had been waiting. They opened the door and ran across the street in a body, highly excited of course, and all talking at once. “What happened out your way last night?” was the first question he could under- stand. ‘Fire,’ was the reply. ‘‘Didn’t you see it?” “You're right, I did,’’ said Tom. “Then why didn’t you come out?’ in- quired Marey. ‘‘I didn’t see you or any other white man about there.”’ MARCY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 155 “T’ll bet you didn’t,’? exclaimed Goodwin. ‘*'When two houses owned by prominent men, and standing a mile and a half apart, get on fire almost at the same moment in the dead hour of night——” ‘‘And while their owners are absent from home,”’ chimed in Tom. ‘‘And while their owners are away from home on business,’’ added Mark, ‘‘it means Something, doesn’t it? We stayed pretty close about our hearth-stones, I bet you, for we didn’t know how soon our own buildings might get a-going. Where were you when it happened?” “T was at home, where you were,’’ replied Marcy. “‘And wasn’t your house set too ?”” Marcy said it was not ; or if it was he hadn’t found it out. “Thats mighty strange,’’ remarked one of the group who had not spoken before. = “What ig strange??? demanded Marcy. Explain yourself.”’ ‘“‘Why, if there was a band of marauders shies Nit SA ee ane ee ee re Ye I A NR toa Pcl erento pee oa et emmy eu 3 156 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. about, as every one seems to think,”’ said the boy— “Well, there was,’ interrupted Marcy. “They came to our house, and made prepara- 216) tions to hang me up by the neck, when the—— “Oh, get out!” exclaimed Allison and Goodwin in concert. Marcy had pushed his hat on the back of his head and ,squared himself to tell the story of his adventure; but when these words fell upon his ear, he put his hands into his pockets and. started for the post-office. ‘‘ Hold on,” cried Tom, catching at his arm. “Don’t go off that way. Tell us all about ieee ‘JT will, if you will ride home with me so that I can prove my story,’”’ said Marcy. ‘«< When you see the chandelier that was pulled out of its place in the ceiling by the rope——” ‘Were you hanging to the rope when it pulled out?” exclaimed the impatient boys. “No. If I had been I would have a broken head now. One of the robbers put his weight upon the rope to see if it would hold me up, when the thing came down on his head and knocked him senseless.” MARCY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 157 “Well now, I am beat! Did they go off without getting any money?” inquired Tom, who would not have asked the question if he had been in a calmer mood. “They certainly did. They never took a cent.”’ “And they didn’t fire your house after- ward 2’? ‘“‘Not that we know of. Our house is stand- ing this morning.”’ “*'Who were the robbers 2” “That’s a conundrum to give up,”’ replied Marcy. ‘All I know is that they were white men who had made a bungling attempt to dis- guise themselves as negroes ; but-they did not put black enough on their hands and faces.”’ Tom Allison looked at his friend Mark, and when he moved away Mark followed him. As soon as they were beyond ear-shot of the rest of the group, Tom said : “‘Let’s shake those fellows, and wait for a chance to speak to Marcy alone. What do you think you make of the situation just as it Stands?’ “I don’t make anything of it,’ answered 3 158 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. Mark. ‘I can’t see through it, and I don’t believe Marcy told the truth.” “TI do. Inthe first place he is not given to lying, and besides he asked us to go home with him. He wouldn’t have done that if he had been telling us a funny story. I believe Beardsley sent those robbers ‘to Mrs. Gray’s house and then took himself off so that he could say he wasn’t at home when the robbery was committed, just as Marcy and Jack could say they were not at home when their overseer was abducted.” “There may be something in that,” said Mark reflectively. ‘‘But the captain made a mighty poor selection when he took men who ‘permitted themselves to be scared away by the breaking down of achandelier. A brave lot of fellows they were.” ‘But perhaps that wasn’t what frightened them away,’”? said Tom. ‘How do you ac- count for the burning of Beardsley’s house and Shelby’s, while Gray’s was allowed to stand 2” “‘T don’t account for it. It is quite beyond me.”’ MAROY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 159 “You don’t think those robbers set the buildings on fire ?”’ “It isn’t likely, when they were in Beards- ley’s employ. Still they might have done it to revenge themselves for the loss of the money they expected to find in Mrs. Gray’s house.” “They might, but I don’t believe they did. Have you forgotten what was in the letter Beardsley received while he was in New- bern?” “By gracious, Tom! You don’t think——” “Yes, Ido. They said they would jump on him if he didn’t stop persecuting Union people, and they have done it. The men who wrote that letter were the men who burned those houses.”? “Tom, you frighten me. I'll tell you what's a fact, old fellow: You and I made a big mistake in calling on that old gossip Mrs. Brown. We didn’t get a thing out of her beyond what we knew when we went there, and I’m going to keep clear of that shanty of hers in future. It may be your father’s turn next, or mine.’? ce Ria GES Sp eae a aera mage 160 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “That is what I am afraid of,’? said Tom honestly. ‘‘And that is the reason 1 want to hang around and see Marcy alone—to ask if he saw anything of those Union men last night.” é Marcy remained in the post-office for nearly half an hour, for he was surrounded by an ex- cited and anxious group there, and plied with the same questions he had been called on to answer outside; but about the time that Allison and his companion were becoming so im- patient that they were on the point of going in after him, he came out with his mail in his hand, and, what was a comfort to them, he came alone. “ Are you two going to ride out with me?”’ said Marcy, when he reached the hitching- rack, where they were waiting for him. ““We may go out some day, but not for proof,” replied Tom. “What would be the use, when we know that you told us nothing put the truth? But, Marcy, you don’t mean to say that those robbers were frightened from their work by the simple breaking down of the chandelier ?”’ MARCY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 161 “Oh, no; they. had better reasons than that for letting us alone,” replied the boy, who knew that he might as well tell the whole Story himself as to leave them to hear it from Somebody else. ‘‘A moment or so after the chandelier came down on the head of one of the robbers, a party of armed and masked men - came into the room and rescued us.”’ It was right in the point of Tom Allison’s peu to say to Mark, ‘‘Didn’t I tell you S ?” but he caught his breath in time, and tried to look surprised. ‘‘ Who were they ?”? he managed to ask. < Didn’t I say they were all masked ?”’ in- quired Marcy. de they said something, didn’t they.” on = Spoke about half a dozen words.”’ e ee t you recognize their voices ?” Se not. Let Mark put his handkerchief mouth and speak to you, and see if van can recognize his voice.’ : oe haven’t you an idea who they were?” ae ou: know as much about them as I do,” Swered Marcy; and he knew by the expres- sio i na a astonishment that came upon Tom’s ic ssa al SE ae ieee . ESTERS WE RAREIIGES E 162 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. face that he had hit the nail squarely on the head. ‘How do you explain the two houses ?”’ inquired Mark. purning of those The men who that was made upon our house. sible for were responsible for one were respon the other.” ‘You don’t mean to say that the robbers did it!” exclaimed Tom. ‘“‘T mean to say that they were the cause of ith me I shall have it. If you wort ride w to say good-by.”” «What do you think n _ as he and Mark stood watching spatter the mud along the road. “Thate to say what I think,’? was Mark’s reply. ‘‘Pm sorry to say it, but it is a fact that that villain holds every dollar's worth of property in this county between his thumb and finger.” + hold it there forty- ow?” asked Tom, Marcy’s filly : «Well, he shall no eight hours longer,” said Allison savagely. ‘ Flow are you going to help it?” “ By writing a note to the commanding offi- rasa EIS MAROY SPEAKS HIS MIND. 163 Cc a at Sasa: and Roanoke, and telling a F hace sort of a fix we are in,’ replied oe you do it!” cried Mark. ‘Don’t ee ie it, for if you do you will see worse a Ss here than you ever dreamed of. If you pt ee hanged to one of the trees on the eee you will be driven out of the coun. Wai 4 a a few minutes, and we will tell you se er or not Mark Goodwin had reason to tightened at Tom’s reckless words. RENDER er eed ptt anne 172 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. to give the dead Bose a decent burial, and then he was obliged to go with him to see that the task was well done. But he was not as im- patient with the black boy as he would have been if Aleck Webster had not spoken so well of him. They had visitors, too; and Marcy knew that their object in coming was not to sympathize with his mother and denounce the “outrage’’ as they called it, but to gain her good will if they could. As Marcy bluntly ex- pressed it—‘‘ They would not come near us if they thought we were friendless and helpless, but they know we are not, and so they want to get on our blind side.”” They fairly ‘‘gushed”’. over the Confederate flag that was hung upon the wall of the sitting-room, but when they went away they told one another that that ban- ner did not express Mrs. Gray’s honest senti- ments, and that it would not protect her or her property for one minute if the Richmond au- thorities would only yield to the importunities of General Wise, and send a strong force to occupy Roanoke Island and the surrounding country. If that time ever came, the general’s attention should be called to the fact that one 2 insti Yomi reams Sea a MieaGreeis THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 3 of the sons of that house was a sailor in the Yankee navy. After another almost sleepless night Marcy Gray rode again to the post-office, to find there the same talkative, indignant, do-nothing crowd he had long been accustomed to meet at mail time. This morning, if such a thing were possible, they were more excited and angry than they had been the day before ; but they did not fail to meet Marcy at the hitching- rack, or to talk to him as though they looked upon him as one of themselves. He noticed that they all held papers in their hands. “This thing is going to be stopped now, I bet you,” said Mark Goodwin, who was the first to speak. “‘Do you mean the war?” inquired Marcy. “Tf you do, I am heartily glad to hear the news.” “T mean the war right around here,” answered Mark. ‘‘It’s got into the New- bern papers, and they are giving us fits on account of it. They say it serves us just right.” ‘What does ?” 174 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “Why, having our houses burned and—and all that.” : “Do they say anything about robbery ?”’ asked Marcy. ‘‘Or about threatening to pull a law-abiding boy up by the neck because he does not happen to have a pocketful of money with him?”’ ‘*No,” replied Mark, rather indignantly ; and then, seeing by the curious smile on Marcy’s face that he had spoken too quickly, he added, ‘‘I suppose of course that they do say something about that outrage, but I can’t tell for certain, for I have only had time to read what my papers say concerning the burning of Beardsley’s house and Shelby’s.”’ ‘* Probably they don’t refer to the way those four villains conducted themselves in my mother’s house,’’ said Marcy, in a tone of con- tempt. ‘‘It’s altogether too insignificant a thing to have travelled as far as the city of Newbern.”’ ‘Tt isn’t, either!’’ exclaimed Tom Allison, glaring savagely at Marcy. ‘‘ Nothing is too insignificant to attract attention these times. THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 175 My paper says—but there it is. Read it for yourself.” “Thank you ; [can’t stop,’’ answered Marcy, moving toward the office. ‘‘Tll get my own, and read it on the way home.”’ Contrary to his expectations he did not find a very belligerent crowd in there. The space between the counters was filled with men, and they were all talking at once; but they had learned wisdom by past experience, and however much they might have desired to threaten somebody, they were careful not to do it. They denounced Yankees and their sym- pathizers in a general way, and declared that it was a cowardly piece of business to burn houses while their owners were absent, but they did not mention any names. Marcy loi- tered about until he found that he was not go- ing to hear anything more than he had heard a score of times before, and then mounted his horse and set out for home. Dropping the teins upon his filly’s neck and allowing her to choose her own gait, he drew his Newbern paper from his pocket, and began looking for the article of which Mark Goodwin had EEN 5 > OREM RETAIN EHO URSIN RRC Nae eet ional tena ea erat emai ncimimiet coe Pettdenpirete raruep eds voeeeor: 176 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. spoken. He could not run amiss of it, for the black headlines were too prominent. They took up more than half the column, and after Marcy had run his eye over a few of the lead- ing ones, he had a very good idea of the article itself. He read: ‘“‘A Reign of Terror.—Civil War Inaugurated in a Sovereign State.— Cowardly Citizens Who Allow a Handful of Traitors to Work their Sweet Will of Them.— Armed and Masked Incendiaries Abroad at Night.” “‘There now!’ exclaimed Marcy, when he read the last line. ‘‘That is as good proof as I want that the man who wrote this knew the whole story. Mother and I were the only white persons who saw those men, and nobody would have known that they were armed and masked if I hadn't said so. I’ll bet you the paper doesn’t say a word concerning the ‘cowardly citizen’ who sent those robbers to our house.” : Swallowing his indignation as well as he could, Marcy turned his attention to the article, which ran as follows: ‘“We have learned, from what we think to i nisin cee. eer THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 177 be reliable sources, that a reign of terror exists in certain portions of this Commonwealth that is a burning shame and a disgrace to the cowards who permit it. They claim to be loyal Southern gentlemen up there, but they will have to furnish better proof than they have thus far given before we will believe it. When the gallant Wise was placed in com- mand of this district in December last, Secre- tary Benjamin desired him to bring his legion up to 10,000 strong by recruiting in North Carolina. There wasreason for this order, and for anxiety regarding Roanoke and adjacent points, because as early as September, 1861, General McClellan requested the Yankee Secre- tary of War ‘to organize two brigades of five. regiments each of New England men, for the general service, but particularly adapted to coast service.’ That means that he intended to turn a horde of red-hot abolitionists and nigger-lovers loose upon our almost defenceless shores. Wise saw and realized the danger, tried hard to obey Secretary Benjamin’s order, and failed ; and now we know the reason why. How could he make brave soldiers out of men 12 Rei ts yells A aaa ee ie a Se eae Tes reece tate Geet ee ee Be cea os Cte te 178 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. who will permit armed and masked traitors to ride about their county of nights, wreaking vengeance upon those who are so unfortunate as to incur their displeasure? While we deeply sympathize with Messrs. Shelby and Beardsley, whose dwellings were burned last night, and wish that the incendiaries might have chosen some less out-spoken and liberal citizens as their victims, we are constrained to say that the lesson that community has received is well deserved. Now let them arouse and stamp this lawlessness out with an iron heel; and let us warn those Union men in the same breath, and all others who feel disposed to follow in their lead, that their day will be a short one. They will not be driven from the country—they will be hunted down like dogs, and hanged to the nearest tree. They will not be shot. That is the death the loyal soldier dies, but we save the rope for traitors.” ‘‘The editor’s pen was so mad it stuttered when it wrote this rambling article,” thought Marcy. ‘‘It couldn’t talk etraight. If he owned about fifty thousand dollars’ worth of houses in these parts, he would not write so THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 179 glibly about hanging Union men. Now, let us see what sort of language he used in denounc- ing the raid that was made upon our house.” He looked the paper through without find- ing any reference to it, but that was no more than he expected. The outrages of every de- scription that were perpetrated upon Union people during the days of the war, by “‘loyal Southern gentlemen,” were of so comron oc- currence, and of so little consequence besides, that they were never mentioned in the news- papers. The oft-expressed verdict was that Unionists had no rights that any white man was bound to respect. “Tf our house had been burned and every- body in it hanged, this rebel sheet would not have said a word against it,’ thought Marcy, shoving the:paper into his pocket and starting up his horse. ‘‘Mark Goodwin says that these things have got to be stopped now, which means that Beardsley and Shelby will set something else afoot as soon as they return from the Island. Now, let us see what it will be. Shall I show this paper to mother, or not?” feenesberrnesonohcteparanE D3 mer ht 180 _ MAROY, THE REFUGEE. This was the question that Marcy pondered — during his ride, and the conclusion he came to was that his mother had as much right to know the worst as he had to know it himself ; so he handed out the paper as soon as he reached home, and rode on to the field to see how his small force was getting on with the work he had assigned it. Then came several days of suspense that were hard to bear. Beardsley and Shelby came home as soon as they heard of the loss they had sustained, but what they had to say, and what they made up their minds to do about it, never came to Marcy’s ears. They did not take the trouble to call upon Mrs. Gray. Evidently they did not think it worth while, because she could not restore to them the property they had lost; but others, who had roofs that they wanted to keep over their heads, came every day or two, although they did not bring much news that was worth hear- ing. About all Marcy learned was that Beardsley and his companion had returned filled with martial ardor, that they were work- ing night and day to send recruits to Roanoke THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 181 Island, although they did not show any signs of going back there themselves. They de- clared that the Island was as strong as Gib- raltar, and if the Yankees were foolish enough to send an expedition against it, there wouldn’t be a man of them left to tell the story of the fight; and they wanted all the youngsters in the country to go there and en- list, so that they could be able to say that they had assisted in winning the most glorious victory of modern times. They were very en- thusiastic themselves, and they made some others so; but Marcy Gray, who kept a close watch of all that went on in the settlement, did not see more than a dozen young men and boys fall in in response to their earnest ap- peals, “Tt’s a disgraceful state of affairs,” said Tom Allison one morning, when Marcy met him at the post-office. ‘‘The Southern people deserve to be whipped, they are so lacking in patriotism.”’ ‘Did you ever think of going into the army yourself ?’’ inquired Marcy. ‘“‘Tcan’t go,” replied Tom. ‘‘ We have sent e ; ES Fs he #| i ha 182 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. our overseer, and that is as much as we can do at present. I wanted to enlist weeks ago, but father said I must stay at home and help him manage the place.’ Marcy found it hard to keep from laughing outright when Tom said this. The latter had never done a day’s work at overseeing or any- thing else, and it is doubtful if he could have told whether or not a corn furrow was laid off straight. He was too indolent to do anything but eat, sleep, and ride about the country. ‘There are plenty around here who could go as well as not,’ continued Tom, ‘and I might go myself if I could only get a commis- sion. But I won’t go asa private soldier.” “Have you tried to get a commission ?”’ asked Marcy. Tom replied that he had not. He did not know how to go about it, and was not ac- quainted with any one who could tell him. “Then hunt up General Wise, and ask his advice,” suggested Marcy. ‘He can, and no doubt will put you on the right track at once.” But Tom Allison was much too sharp to do X THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 1838 a thing like that. He was well aware that en- listed men had no love for ‘‘ cits’? who could go into the army and wouldn’t, and the prom- ise of a colonel’s commission would not have induced him to go among them. He meant to remain at home and let other and poorer men’s sons do the fighting, and Marcy knew it all the while. The latter did not put much faith in the stories that Captain Beardsley and Colonel Shelby had spread through the country, and when his mother’s negroes began coming home in companies of twos and threes, he put still less faith in them. They were a sorry looking lot, ragged and dirty; and the first thing they asked for as they crowded about the kitchen door was something to eat. “‘Oh, missus, don’t eber luf dem rebels take we uns away agin,’’ was their constant plea. ‘*“Dey ’buse us de wust you eber see. Dey whop us, an’ dey kick us, an’ dey don’t gib us half ’nough toeat. Weall starve todef. We been prayin’ night an’ day dat de Yankees may come an’ shoot dat place plum to pieces.” ‘But the trouble is that the Yankees can’t sitinlay AE a Ee Sas daha ciot sap oes : 184 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. do it,’? said Marcy, as he bustled about in search of bread and meat to satisfy the de- _. mands of the hungry blacks. ‘Captain Beardsley says the Island is too strong to be captured.” : - The negroes confessed that they did not know much about military matters, but they did know that there was much dissatisfaction among the soldiers composing the garrison, many of whom declared that they would make tracks for home as soon as their year was out, leaving the Confederacy to gain its independ- ence in any way it pleased. The Richmond authorities would not help them, the people along the coast were too cowardly or too lazy to shoulder a musket, and they were not going to stay in the army and eat hard-tack while other able-bodied men stayed at home and lived on the fat of the land. They would do their duty until their term of enlistment ex- pired, and then they would stand aside and give somebody else a chance to fight the Yan- kees. That was what a good many deluded and disappointed rebels thought and said about this time; but those who have read THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 185 ** Rodney, the Partisan,’’ know how very easy it was for the Confederate authorities to bring such malcontents to their senses. But at last the time came when at least one of these vexed questions was to be solved by a trial at arms. While the scenes we have at- — tempted to describe were being enacted on shore, others, that were of no less interest and importance to Marcy Gray and the people who lived in and around Nashville, were transpir- ing on the water. On the 11th day of January a formidable military and naval expedition, consisting of more than a hundred gunboats, transports, and supply ships, set sail from Fortress Monroe. Its object was to obtain possession of Roanoke Island, which the Con- federates had spent so much time and care in fortifying, and which their General Wise called ‘the key to all the rear defences of Norfolk.”? Two days later the expedition ar- rived off Hatteras just as a fierce northeast gale was springing up, and two days after that the Newbern papers brought the encouraging news to Nashville. We say encouraging, be- cause there was not a man or boy in town who Soaps pone rrecerr ie ein y settee on Nein siete an ttn amn tessa omerrecs 186 did not honestly believe that those hundred vessels were doomed to certain and swift de- MARCY, THE REFUGEE. struction. As in the case of a former expedi- tion, Tom Allison was much afraid that the wind and the waves would do the work which the gunners at Roanoke Island were anxious to do themselves. “Oh, don’t I wish this wind would go down!’’ was the way he greeted Marcy on the morning on which the news of the arrival of the fleet reached Nashville. ‘‘ Here we’ve gone and worked like beavers to fortify the island, hoping and expecting to give the Yan- kees a Bull Run licking there, and now Old Hatteras has taken the matter out of our hands, and is pounding the expedition to pieces on the shoals. Half of the enemy’s tubs have gone to smash already, and the rest will go back as soonas they can. Not one of them will ever cross the bar, I tell you.” For two weeks a furious gale raged along the coast, and, during that time, Marcy Gray lived in a state of suspense that cannot be de- scribed. He could not bring himself down to work, so he went to town twice each day, and THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 187 always came back to report the loss of another ship belonging to the expedition. ““ Why, Marcy, if they keep on losing ves- sels at this rate, there will not be any expedi- tion left after a while,’’ said his mother one day. “These reports are all false,’’ declared Marcy. ‘‘I tell them to you because they are told to me, and not because I expect you to believe them. Don’t worry. Those ships are commanded by Yankees, and Yankees are the best sailors in the world.” For a time it looked as though Tom Allison’s prediction would be verified ; for it was only after fifteen days’ struggle with the elements, and the loss of four vessels, that Burnside and his naval associate, Flag-officer Goldsborough, succeeded in passing through Hatteras Inlet to the calmer waters of Pamlico Sound. It was an exhibition of patient courage and skill on the part of the Union officers and men that astonished everybody ; and even Tom Allison was willing to confess that things were getting serious. There was bound to be a terrible battle at the Island, and the citizens of Nash- id cea creeper aR SESxtEs LAs 5s Sin ee le eae eee cee 188 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ville would hear the guns. And if the Island should be captured, as Forts Hatteras and Clark were captured, then what? The thought was terrifying to the timid ones, who straight- way hid their clothing,-and began carrying the contents of their cellars, smoke-houses, and corn-cribs into the woods, as they had done when the news came that Butler and Stringham had reduced the fortifications at the Inlet; but, on this occasion, Mrs. Gray’s neighbors were all so busy with their own affairs that they did not have time to run over and find fault with her because she did not © hide anything. A few days of inactivity followed, during which the fleet was repairing the damages it had received during the storm, and then a ‘hush seemed to fall upon the whole nation as the news was flashed over it that the final struggle for the possession of those waters was about to begin. Thelow, swampy shores of the Sound being but sparsely settled, and nearly all the able-bodied men in the country, both white and black, having been summoned to the Island, some as soldiers and the others to work RBI Regret THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET. 189 on the forts and trenches, there were few to witness the grand and imposing spectacle the fleet presented as it moved into position on the evening of February 5, and dropped anchor within a few miles of the entrance to Croatan Sound; but among those few was one who was destined to bring Marey Gray into deeper trouble than he had ever known before, and the reader will acknowledge that that is saying a good deal. It was Doctor Patten’s negro boy Jonas. He lay flat behind some obstruc- tion near the water’s edge, and took in the whole scene as if it had been a review arranged for his especial benefit. He saw the waters of the Sound splash as the heavy anchors were dropped into them, and could even hear the shrill tones of the boatswains’ pipes. When - darkness came and shut the nearest vessel out from his view, he scrambled to his feet and hastened toward his master’s house, muttering. under his breath : “ Jonas been prayin’ hard fur de Yankees to come, an’ bress de Lawd, here dey is! Now, what Jonas gwine do?” | Ra ap alice a eden NL ip AALS a TT satin face ate Ce as ic ae leap earamncsbiey ube 2h th = Re cc ia eS CHAPTER IX. LOOKING FOR A PILOT. ee and early the next morning the captain of one of the twenty-seven gun- boats that were attached to the Burnside ex- pedition, came out of his cabin to take a breath of fresh air before sitting down to his breakfast. He was a large, full-bearded man, had a broad and a narrow band of gold lace around each sleeve of his coat, a lieutenant’s straps on his shoulders, and wore his hands in his pockets. When he went up the ladder - he lifted his cap to the quarter-deck, and was in turn saluted by the acting ensign on watch. “ Anything new or strange to tell me, Mr. Robbins ?”’ asked the captain carelessly. “ Nothing at all, sir, except that a lone con- traband came off to us ina leaky skiff, when I first took charge of the deck,’ was the reply. 190 IMO ee eC EEE EN OM PA LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 191 “Does he know anything?” was the ¢ap- — tain’s next question. “I did not interrogate him, sir, only just enough to find out that he is not a pilot.” ‘“‘Perhaps he knows where we can get one, so you might as well bring him aft.” A messenger-boy was sent forward to obey this order, and presently brought to the quar- ter-deck the lone contraband of whom the ensign had spoken, and who was none other than Doctor Patten’s boy Jonas, whom we saw watching the Union vessels from his hiding- place on the beach. The captain asked him who he was and where he belonged, what his master’s politics were, and why he ran away from him and came off to the fleet, and then he said: : ‘“You told my officer here that you are not a pilot for these waters ; but you must know where I can find one. There ought to be any number of them on the mainland, for I happen to know that many of you black people make the most of your living on the water.” “Dats a fac’, moster,” replied Jonas, “but I aint no pilot. Dey used to be some on de —— 192 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. ' mainland, but dey aint dar now. Dey up to de forts on de Island.”’ “All of them?” inquired the captain. “Can't you think of a single man hereabouts who knows the channel through Croatan Sound ?”’ “Not about here, I can’t,’? answered the black boy, ‘‘an’ I tell you dat fur de truth. Dey is all on de Island waitin’ for you uns to come wha’ dey is; but dey’s two back in de country a piece.”’ ‘‘ How far back in the country, and who are they ?”’ “Tt?s a right smart piece, sar; twenty mile suah, an’ mebbe mo’. Name Mahcy Gray an’ Cap’n Beardsley, sar.’’ “¢ Are they Union or secesh ?”’ “Well, sar, dere’s Mahcy Gray, he’s de best kind of a Union boy ; but de other one, he’s——” : “Boy!” interrupted the captain. ‘‘I don’t want any boy to take charge of my ship. This is no boy’s play,’ he added, returning the salute of his executive officer, who just then came up the ladder. ‘‘If I understand the LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 193 flag-officer’s plans, we are to lead one division of the fleet in the attack ; and if we go on until we are aground, and the division follows jn our . wake, there will be the mischief to pay, for the other vessels draw more water than we do.” “‘Sakes alive, moster! Mahcy Gray won’t nebber run you on de groun’,’’ exclaimed the negro, with so much earnestness in his tones that the captain turned about and listened to him. ‘He de bes’ boy fur de Union you eber see, an’ he take you right fru de Sound, wid his eyes shet, on de blackest night you eber was out in. But dat rebel Beardsley—you don’t want no truck wid him. He know wha’ de deep watah is mighty well, but he aint gwine to take you dar. He run you on de groun’ suah’s you live and breathe.”’ “Never mind talking about that. You called him captain a minute ago. What is he captain of ?” ‘“‘ Well, sar, moster, previous to de beginning of de wah he was cap’n ob a trader; but en- durin’ de wah he run a privateer an’ blockade runner; de Osprey he call her.”’ ‘““ What?” exclaimed the gunboat captain, 18 ai ae kee tara ete eS - Seren 194 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. so suddenly that Jonas jumped, and the execu- tive and the officer of the deck looked sur- 4 | prised. ‘Did you call him Beardsley, and say that he commanded the Osprey ?” 4 “Dats de name, moster,’” replied Jonas. : “He cotch some Yankee vessels outside, an’ | when de gunboats get too thick on de bar, he | take de two big guns out, load up wid cotton, an’ run de blockade.” “What was his object in taking the guns out?’? inquired the captain; and the negro went on to explain what the reader already knows—that Beardsley had disarmed and dis- guised his little vessel in order to deceive the cruisers along the coast. If he had been cap- tured with nothing but cotton on board, the Federal authorities would not be likely to hang him and his men as pirates, which they might have done if they had caught him while he had two howitzers on his gun-deck and a supply of small-arms and ammunition in his cabin. The gunboat captain listened ‘attentively, and seemed very much impressed by what the negro had to say; and when the latter ceased =e SAT RT LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 195 speaking he turned his back upon him, and said to his executive officer : ‘“Mr. Watkins, I have wanted to meet that man for—for an age, it seems to me now. He is the villain who robbed me of the Mary Hol- Lins, and ironed my crew like felons—like fel- ons, sir, and in spite of my earnest protest.” Then turning once more to the negro, he in- quired, ‘‘Can you guide a squad of my men to Beardsley’s house and Gray’s to-night? You told me, I believe, that they live twenty miles or more inland.’ ““Dat’s about de distance of de journey you will have to travel, sar,” answered Jonas. ‘‘T kin go da’, kase I know de house whar dey resides. But de cap’n don’t live da’ no more sense de Union men riz up in de night an’ burn him out.” ‘“*T don’t care how many times he has been burned out, nor who did it. What I want to know is if you can take my officers where they can put their hands on him to-night.” Yes; Jonas was quite positive he could do that. 196 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “ All right ; but look here, boy,” said the captain, shaking his finger at Jonas. ‘‘ Tell _me the truth now, or you will never see an- other sunrise. Are there any rebels ashore between here and the place where those two pilots live ?”’ “Oh, yes, sar; dere’s plenty of dem at Plymouth, moster.”’ “JT am as well aware of that fact as. you are,’ interrupted the captain. ‘‘ What I want particularly to know is if there are any ‘cavalry scouting around who would be likely to pick up the men I shall probably send ashore to-night.” _ “Not now, dey aint, sar; but a while ago dey was piles of dem. Dey go round to all de plantations an’ tooken away de black ones en’ make ’em wuk on de forts. I wuk on dem myself.”” ‘‘ Consequently there may be some cavalry out there now,” said the captain. ‘But I warn you, boy, that if you lead my men among them——” “Who? Mé?” exclaimed the negro, in vecents of alarm. ‘‘’Fore de Lawd, moster, LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 197 you don’t think” Jonas would do dat? Why, sar, Ise been prayin’ fur you uns to come, an’ so has all de black ones. Dem rebels kill me suah, if dey see me wid de Yankees.”’ ‘“‘ And so will I if you take my men where the rebels can get hold of them; so that will make twice you will be killed. That will do for the present, but I may want to ask you some more questions by and by. Go for’ad. Beardsley, Beardsley !’’ continued the captain, turning again to his chief officer, who wore an acting-master’s uniform. ‘‘I remember that when I was a prisoner on board the Osprey I heard one of the mates address my captor by that name, and it somehow runs in my mind that this pilot we have been talking about is the same man. I made the best ef- fort at escape that I could, but the Hollins was so heavily loaded that she moved through the water as though she had a hawser drag- ging over the stern; and besides he had the weather gauge of me. I showed him some pretty fair seamanship, and he might have given me and my men kind treatment in re- turn for it.’’ 5) DEMS eet eee fe Phas Saath i iba eee ahs pate ? —_ Meats 154s . TERETE 198 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “Certainly, sir,’ answered the executive. ‘A brave man always respects a brave foe.” “But he didn’t, Mr. Watkins. On the contrary, when we got into Newbern, and the mob on the wharf began howling and calling us names, as they did the minute they caught sight of us, Captain Beardsley made no effort to stop them. He rather seemed to enjoy it. Give me a chance to take a good look at him when he is brought on board, and if he is the man I think he is, I want you to have him put into the brig without the loss of a moment and. into double-irons besides. That was the way he served my crew. As soon as I have taken my coffee I ‘will go down and tell the flag- officer what I have learned and what I intend to do with his permission ; so I shall want my gig presently.” The captain went into his cabin, and when he came out again, a short time afterward, he was dressed in full uniform and wore his side- arms. He seemed to be in no particular hurry to leave the vessel, for although breakfast had been served and eaten, the long red meal pen- nant was still floating from the masthead, and HPN IS LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 199 the blue-jackets were smoking their pipes on the forecastle ; but Jonas was loitering around, looking as happy as a darky always does after he has enjoyed a hearty repast, and when he saw the captain beckoning to him he came aft. What the Union officer wanted to question him about this time was as to the quickest and safest methods that could be em- ployed to take a company of, say fifty men, through the country to Beardsley’s house and Gray’s, and bring them back to the fleet. Would it be necessary for this company to march overland, or could it go the whole or a part of the way in boats? and was there any danger that the men would be forced to fight their way? Jonas answered all his questions as readily as though he had known beforehand what they were going to be ; and when the cap- tain brought the interview to a close by send- ing the negro forward again, he held in his hand arude map of all the principal water- ways that intersected the mainland south of Plymouth and north and west of Middletown, and had learned how the garrison at the first- named town could be easily and safely ds SN ne a ae sea i. — SS 2 SHEEN NEY ad erent i tenner or qi Sunes nr asiuh ers ae et ee 200 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. avoided. Then he stepped into his gig, which was called away when the meal pennant was hauled down, and was taken on board the flag- ship. His superior officer must have approved of the plans which Captain Benton (for that was the name of the Yankee skipper who had once been Lon Beardsley’s prisoner) submitted for securing the services of a pilot who was famil- jar with the waters through which the fleet was to sail to victory, although not very much was done toward carrying them out until after dark. The day was nota favorable one fora movement on the part of the Union forces, for -a thick fog came rolling in from the sea and covered the waters of the Sound. Once dur- ing the forenoon it lifted long enough to dis- close the rebel fortifications on the Island, and the double rows of piles and sunken ships through which the Fairy Belle had sailed a few weeks before, with Commodore Lynch’s eight boats above, and then it settled down again thicker than ever. But ‘two of the Union commanders at least were not idle, and when darkness came to conceal its movements, EAR ea AE aE LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 201 the expedition which they had quietly pre- pared during the day put off for the shore. It consisted of four cutters filled with small- armed men, two being from Captain Benton’s vessel and the others from the gunboat that lay next astern. The work of securing the Pilots was to be done by two squads of twenty men each, one under command of Captain Ben- ton’s executive officer, the second being led by an acting ensign from the other vessel. Mr. Watkins’s boat was first in the line and the boy Jonas, who crouched in the bow of his cutter, was the guide and pilot. A second expedition, which put off from the flag-ship an hour later, held straight for the shore and stopped when it got there; but the one in whose fortunes we are at present most interested did not stop. It turned into the mouth of a little river which was seldom navigated, even by the fishing and: trading boats that were so numerous in the Sound. It was known as Middle River; and if Jonas, who had lived upon its banks ever since he could remember, had been asked how long it was and where it took its rise, he would have re ais a EER eh ee - , 202 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. been obliged to say that he did not know. But he did know that by following some of _ its numerous tributaries the expedition could pass in the rear of the forts at Plymouth into Seven Mile Creek, and land within a few hun- dred yards of Captain Beardsley’s house and Marcy’s. And that was just what it did. Although the strictest silence and caution were observed, the progress of the blue-jackets was not as slow and laborious as those who knew where they were going thought it would be, and neither did they see or hear anything to be afraid- of. Only once during the long hours they passed in those narrow, crooked streams did they hear a sound to tell them where they were, and that was when a distant sentry on the right bank, and a little astern of them, shouted the number of his post and called out that all was well. Then the blue- jackets drew a long breath of relief, and con- gratulated themselves and each other on hav- ing passed Plymouth without knowing it. Perhaps this was a fortunate thing for Jonas. Jt might have frightened the wits all out of him if he had dreamed of such a thing, but SPREE RL aT ET RL IT EY SBOE Ec Rar Seite oe | ! 3% “4 F aa eae on” ee eee eee LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 203 the two sailors who crouched by his side in the leading cutter held revolvers in their hands, and were under orders to shoot him down at the first sign of treachery. He knew, however, that they were watching him, for on several occasions, when it was found necessary to change the course of the boat in order to follow the windings of the stream, they had cautioned him to clap a stopper on his jaw- tackle and pass his instructions aft in a whisper, like any other white gentleman. “Da’ now! ‘Da’ now!” said Jonas sud- denly. | “Not so loud, you black rascal,’’ com- manded one of the guards, emphasizing his words with a crushing grip on the negro’s Shoulder. ‘‘ What’s the row?” ‘“‘Cap’n Beardsley used to live right ober da’, fore de Union men riz up an’ burn’ him out,” replied Jonas. ‘“We don’t care where he used to live,” growled the tar. ‘‘ Where does he live now?” “Right ober da’,”’ repeated the negro. ‘An’ you uns got ter lan’ heah on de lef’-han’ side ob de bayou.” cones agpantin 204 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. This information was duly passed aft to Mr. Watkins, who sat in the stern-sheets by the side of the coxswain, and the first cutter was turned in toward the bank, the others follow- ing close in her wake. When Mr. Watkins stepped ashore, he demanded of Jonas why he had landed the expedition in those dark woods where there was not asign of a house to be seen; and the negro hastened to explain that the road lay about a quarter of a mile straight ahead, and that the house in which Beardsley formerly lived stood on the other side of it. The drive-way, which ran close by the ruins of the dwelling, led into a lane that passed through the quarter; and there, in the over- seer’s house, was where Beardsley lived now. This much having been learned, and a guard being left in charge of the boats, forty sailors, with Jonas and his keepers at their head, be- gan threading their way through the thick bushes in the direction in which the road lay. Twenty minutes’ time sufficed to bring them to it, but when Jonas began giving further in- structions and directions Mr. Watkins inter- rupted him. LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 205 “ Right da’ is de drive-way,” said he, ‘an’ down da’ is de lane dat goes fru de quarter. © Look out fur de houn’ dogs, an’ don’t waste no time in foolin’, kase Beardsley’s niggers say he mighty timersome sense you Yankees come on de coast, an’ de fust thing you know he run out de back do’ an’ take to de bresh. Now, sar, moster——’ “Take the boy with you and go ahead, Mr. Burnham,” commanded the executive officer. “And it might be well for you to act upon the hint he has given, and surround the house as quickly and quietly as possible. Remem- ber the signal, and when you are done with the boy send him back to me under guard.” In obedience to these orders Mr. Burnham’s squad moved through the open gate at a quick but noiseless pace, Jonas and his keepers Jead- ing the way, and ina few minutes disappeared in the darkness. Ten minutes were passed in silence, and then the angry protests of a small army of dogs, mingled with the doleful yelps of one which had been knocked endways by a savage blow from the butt of a Spencer carbine in the hands of a blue-jacket, whom he had 206 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. tried to seize by the throat, arose on the still - air, being almost immediately followed by a single shrill note from a boatswain’s whistle. This was the signal agreed upon, and it brought to Mr. Watkins’ ears the intelligence that if Captain Beardsley was in his: house, he was now shut up init and could not escape. Tn less than ten minutes more Jonas and his two guards were heard coming back along the drive-way at double-quick ; whereupon Mr. Watkins’s own squad, which up to this time had remained motionless in the road, set out at a brisk walk for Mrs. Gray’s dwell- ing. “This is the place where the Union pilot lives, is it?” said Mr. Watkins, when Jonas halted and pointed out the house. “Yes, sar, moster, dat’s de place. No dogs heah to pester you, kase ole Bose done killed by de robbers. I speck Mahcy Gray mighty dubersome sense dem robbers been heah, an’ mebbe he fight; but you uns luf Jonas talk to him, an’ dem you see him open de front do’ too quick. No need to cireumroun’ dis house. Marse Mahcy aint gwine run off.” LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 207 Mr. ‘Watkins’s men were moving toward the house while the negro was talking in this way, and now they were drawn up in line in front of the gallery by the master’s mate, who was second in command, while Mr. Watkins mounted the steps and pounded upon the door with such effect that he awoke echoes in all the wide halls. The startling summons fright- ened old Morris so badly that he drew his head under the bed-clothes; sent Julius like a shot out of the back window and scurrying bare- legged through the garden ; reached the ears of a pale but resolute woman, who hastily began arraying herself in such garments as she could find in the dark, and brought out of bed an ex- cited, determined boy who opened an upper window with a crash, and shoved the muzzles of two heavy revolvers down at the blue-jackets. This was Marcy Gray. When his eye fell upon the double line of men in front of the house he made up his mind that the robbers had come out in full force this time. ; “ Get out of that, or I will blow some of you to kingdom come!” said he, without a quiver in his voice. ‘‘One—two——’ 1 ENTRAR Rr het BREST Hite Miner Mame teense: ON QUunaAGL Mu a Eee ee 208 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “Avast there!’ exclaimed the master’s mate. <‘ Don’t shoot, Marse Mahcy, honey!” cried Jonas, who thought that both the revolvers were pointed straight at his own head. ‘‘Dese yer folks all Yankees, sar; all Yankees de las’ blessed one ob ’em, sar.”’ “ Jonas, is that you?” said Marcy, who could scarcely believe his ears. “What brought you here at this hour of the night, and how came you in the company of such a gang as that?” “Tf you are Marcy Gray, I beg to assure you that we are here for no evil purpose,”’ said Mr. Watkins, who now came down from the porch and looked up at the boy. ‘‘ We want to see you particularly. Come down, if you please, and let me explain.” ‘““You’re quite sure you are Union, are you?” said Marcy, who, at first, could not make up his mind that this was not aruse on the part of lawless men to gain admission to the house; but, on second thought, he con- cluded that it was not, for, if they had been determined to come in, they could have done LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 209 i epee down the doors, or smashing windows, and that, too, without taking the erable to call him and his mother. ‘We are quite positive on that point,”’ an- Swered Mr. Watkins. ‘We belong 6 th Burnside expedition. You knew we we a is Sound, I suppose 2”? a ( : os ae Satisfied, ae will be down while you ee ing about it,” said Marcy, slamming 2 uidow, and hastening back to his room ne = oe there long enough to put ue a - tie os of clothing, and then ran down e stairs with a lighted lamp in his hand. I ee lower hall he found his mother ano wis : ee striving to nerve herself to taba some- oe a dreadful than she had yet experi- = ee ee ee talking to the ered in front of the h gee ponsl she had not been able to sane ee = ae that passed between them, ic what reassured when she looked : son’s beaming face. Who are they?” she asked calmly “Surely they d 5 ee y @o not act like the robbers, 14 210 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “They are Yankees from the fleet, and want to see me about something,’’ was the excited reply. ‘Will you take this lamp into the parlor while I admit them ?”’ Certainly his mother would do that; but what could the Yankees want of Marcy at that time of night, and how did they hear of him, in the first place, and find out where he lived ? “Doctor Patten’s boy, Jonas, told them, most likely ; but when and where they picked him up beats me. I can’t imagine what they want, either ; but I will open the door for them as readily as I would for Jack,’’ replied Marcy; and, as his mother turned into the parlor with the lamp, he went down the hall to the front door. “Are you Marcy Gray, the pilot?” inquired. Mr. Watkins, as the two saluted each other, instead of shaking hands. “‘Qeosar’s ghost!’ was the ejaculation that trembled on the boy’s lips; and then he won- dered if he was to be arrested for acting as pilot for Captain Beardsley’s privateer and blockade runner. SS OEE eT aseaa sed STE, LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 211 “Because, if you are, you are the man I want to see,” continued ‘the officer. ia a you come in ?’’ answered Marcy, who = ae it ie Hp hold his peace until he had ne ed some insight into the nature of the usiness that had brought his visitor there. oe latter complied, and, when he entered aC parlor, was rather taken aback to find a dignified lady there. He saluted her co teously, and, without intending to do so aaaed ue her fears at the same time that he stor i a his errand, by Saying: es ue beg a thousand pardons, madam, for in truding upon your privacy at this TeReee hour; but the truth is, our fleet has gone é far toward the enemy as it can go without lit aid of pilots to direct its Grohe ae pee Gray has been mentioned to ae an > Captain Benton, and I am ecure his services.” cs . af Oh, sir!” cried Mrs. Gr ay, clasping her hands appealingly. ‘Would you ay rob me of the only son I have left, and take him into battle? He has alread y been injur during this terrible war,” kaa ena MRC ronment stiper cen see tying oh i ace ee earns St 7 MRE Or en 7 yecteteee yale Mamta cme aantistensertcer 212 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. The fact that Marcy carried one of his arms in a sling had not escaped the notice of the officer, and now he looked at the boy rather sharply. There was but one conclusion to be drawn, he told himself: If Marcy got that wounded arm in battle, he must have been fighting on the Confederate side. ‘“‘T was not aware that the young man was in the service,” said he coldly. ‘‘I thought he was Union.” ‘And so I am,” exclaimed Marcy. “I have a brother in your service, and he is aboard one of your gunboats at this moment. I know, for I took him out to the fleet before the fortifications at Roanoke Island were com- pleted. Did you speak of a Captain Benton just now? I once met a sea-captain of that name, but of course the commander of a Union war-ship can’t be the man I saw insulted and abused by a mob in Newbern.” ‘How and when did that happen?” de- manded the officer, his face exhibiting the profoundest interest. “Tt wag when the crew of the prize-schooner Mary Hollins were marched off to jail,” re-. plied Marcy. ‘‘ It was no fault of mine that I LOOKING FOR A PILOT. 213 saw them captured, for I am Union to the backbone. I have been persecuted on account of my principles——’ ‘“‘My lad,” exclaimed Mr. Watkins, taking Marcy’s uninjured hand in both his own, ‘“‘were you on the Osprey when she made a prize of the schooner Hollins ?”? ‘“‘T was,”? answered Marcy, becoming as ex- - cited as the officer appeared to be. ‘‘I passed as her pilot and drew pay as such; but I did duty as foremast hand most of the time, and sailed on her because I could not help myself. May I ask if you know anything aboutit? Ido not remember of seeing you among the crew.” “T know all about it although I wasn’t there,’ answered Mr. Watkins, whose aston- ishment would scarcely permit him to speak plainly. ‘‘My commander, Captain Benton, was master of the Mary Hollins at the time she was captured by that pirate. He is now acting volunteer lieutenant in the navy of the United States, and commands one of the finest vessels in Flag-oflicer Goldsborough’s squadron.” Marcy Gray had never been more amazed in his life. am a os Se ok elt ut Sirs a tue te TSC IA RUE CHAPTER X. BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. HE profound silence that reigned in the room for a minute or two after Mr. Wat- kins made his extraordinary announcement, was broken at last by Marcy Gray, who ex- claimed eagerly : “Tf that is the man who wants to see me, I hope you will take me to him at once. I have wanted to meet him ever since that miser- able day when I stood by and saw him make his gallant attempt at escape, for I have seventeen hundred dollars that belong to him—my share of the prize money his schooner sold for, you know, captain.” “Mister, if you please,”’ said the officer, with asmile. ‘I used to be captain in the mer- chant marine, but am now executive officer of Captain Benton’s vessel, and am simply Mr. Watkins.”’ 214 BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 215 ‘“‘Mr, Watkins,” interposed Mrs. Gray, “my son has saved all the money that came to him through the sale of the Hollins, and longed for and dreamed of the day when he could re- store it to its lawful owner. When Captain Beardsley turned his privateer into a blockade runner Marcy refused to take out a venture, though by so doing he might have made his seventeen hundred dollars of prize money bring him five thousand more. Captain Benton’s money is safe, and he will receive it in the same shape in which it was paid to my son. But, sir,’ added Mrs. Gray, seeing that the officer did not occupy the chair that had been placed for him, ‘‘I trust you will not find it necessary to take Marcy into battle.”’ “J really cannot see any way in which it can be avoided, madam,”’ said Mr. Watkins truth- fully. ‘‘There is bound to be a fight if the enemy stands his ground, and my vessel will be one of the foremost in it. But I hope you understand that we do not mean to keep him with us unless he wants to stay. He will be at liberty to return to you as soon as his services can be dispensed with.” Saks tars in esnarernenn enti s5 ete 216 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “Yes, sir, I understand that,’? said the mother tearfully. ‘Buta stray bullet or a shell will be as likely to strike a non-comba- tant as any one else. I have given one son to the service of his country, and I can give an- other ; but when you take Marcy you take all I have.” The officer drew his hand across his eyes, as if brushing away a mist that was gathering there, and looked up at a painting over the mantel; while Marcy, knowing that the part- ing must come, and that it would be better to have it over as speedily as possible, began to bestir himself. ‘JT will have the money dug up right now,” saidhe. ‘‘ And, mother, while Iam doing that, will you bring down my Union flag—not the weather-beaten one, but the other that I hoisted on the Hairy Belle when I took Jack out to the fleet.” ‘‘T little expected to find a Union flag down here,”’ said Mr. Watkins, who was very much surprised. ‘‘I should think you would find it dangerous to keep one.” “So we would if the people around here BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 217 knew it was in the house,” replied Marcy. “But that is something we don’t publish. Your men will not bother me if I go into the garden, will they ?”’ “‘T will see that they don’t,” was the an- swer ; and, while Marcy went out of the back door as if he had been thrown from a catapult, Mr. Watkins went out at the front, and Mrs. Gray hastened to her son’s room with a pair of scissorsin her hand. Marcy went to the coach- man’s cabin and felt for the latch-string ; but it had been pulled in, and that proved that old Morris was inside. He pounded upon the door, and called the black man’s name impa- tiently. “Q Lawd! Who dat?’ came in muffled tones from under the blankets. Before Marcy could answer Julius glided around the corner of the cabin, looking like a small black ghost very scantily clad in white. He had been brave enough when the robbers made their raid upon the house and there was a strong force of Union men to back him up, but now that he thought the robbers had come again to finish their work, when Aleck Web- LEE PTTL SITES uke Ran En ea hs eee a lignite ects tat a SaaS Saat ia A a e 218 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ster and his friends were not at hand to lend _ assistance, he was very badly frightened. “*T don’t suppose Morris will get up and let me in, but you will do as well as anybody,” said Marcy. ‘‘Get a spade, quick, and come with me. No, they are not robbers. They are Yankees, and I am to go to the fleet with them ; and that is all I can tell you. Hurry up.”’ While Julius was digging in one of Mrs. Gray’s flower-beds under Marcy’s supervision, and the quilt on his bed was being ripped to pieces, Mr. Watkins was standing in the front yard, telling the master’s mate what he had seen and heard in the house. The young offi- cer was astonished, and declared he had never dreamed that there was such Union sentiment anywhere in the South. . “T did not believe there was either, though I have often heard of it,’? replied Mr. Wat- kins, ‘‘but I believe it now. It is easy enough for us who are surrounded by loyal people to swear by the old flag, but I tell you it must take pluck and plenty of it to do it down here. Dee Se Pa ASON Sak AD ea) rae ead eS el a a BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 219 I wish some one else had been ordered to do this work, for I have taken her last prop away from that poor woman in there. She is a heroine; and as for the boy, he is as true as steel, and as brave as they make them. One can’t look in his face and think anything else of him. He has gone to dig up the captain’s money and will be along directly. I never thought to ask him how he got his hand hurt.” While the officer was adding to his subor- dinate’s surprise by telling how completely Lon Beardsley had reduced Captain Benton to poverty by taking the Hollins from him, Mrs. Gray came down the steps with Marcy’s flag in her hand and followed by three laughing darkies, who brought with them large trays loaded with something good to eat and drink— bread and butter, cold meat, and pitchers filled to the brim with the richest of milk. While the hungry gunboat men were regaling them- selves and wondering at such treatment from | Southerners, all of whom they supposed to be the most implacable and violent of rebels, Mrs. 220 MARCY, THE REFUGER, Gray shook out the folds of the flag, and spread it upon the wall where they could all ‘see it. The unexpected sight thrilled them, and every cap was lifted. “Tf things wasn’t just as they are, missus,” said one, ‘‘we’d give it a cheer; asking your pardon and the deck’s for speaking when I wasn’t spoke to.’’ ‘* But our guns will cheer it in the morning, and they will make more noise than we could,” observed another. ‘‘ Likewise asking pardon for speaking.” At this moment Marcy appeared, bundled up ready for his trip to the coast, and carrying in his hand a valise, which contained, among other things, the box that held Captain Ben- ton’s money. It was all in gold, too; for at that time gold was as plenty as scrip in the Confederacy, and Captain Beardsley, ignorant as he was on some points, was much too shrewd a man of business to take paper money when he could have what he called the “‘hard stuff”? for the asking. Had the Hollins been captured one short year later, Marcy would have been obliged to take his share of the prize NLL LL OTE TPES RTE BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 221 money in scrip, and Captain Benton might have thought himself lucky if he had received twenty cents on the dollar. When the blue-jackets had disposed of everything there was on the trays, either by eating it themselves or putting it into the bosom of their shirts, to be divided with the guards who had been left in charge of the boats, and Marcy had stowed his Union flag in his valise, there was nothing to detain them longer. The master’s mate marched the squad away while Mr. Watkins lingered a moment, cap in hand, to say good-by to the woman whose quiet courage had excited his admiration. “Take good care of my boy, sir,”’ said Mrs. Gray, as if she thought the officer could give © Marcy a safe station in action, or protect him from the shot and shell that would soon be shrieking about his ears. ‘‘ Remember he is all I have to give you.” “‘Tll have an eye upon him, madam, and upon your other boy as well, when I find out where he is,’? replied Mr. Watkins. ‘‘We are not pressing men into our service, and I 222 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. know I can safely say that Marcy will be per- mitted to return to his home as soon as we can _ get along without him.” “T shall have that promise to console me during his absence,” said Mrs. Gray. ‘‘Good- by, Marcy. When you come back to me I “want you to be able to say that you did your duty. Oh,is there no way in which this dreadful state of affairs can be brought to an end?” she cried, once more giving way to her tears when she felt Marcy’s arm closing around her waist. : “Certainly there is,’’ answered the officer. “The Richmond authorities can end this war in an hour by telling their soldiers to lay down their arms and stop fighting the government. That would be an easy thing for them to do, and itis all we ask of them. Good-by, Mrs. Gray. I trust we may meet again under pleas- anter circumstances.” _ The executive turned away as he spoke, leav- ing 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 BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 223 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 re- sponse to the officer’s whispered communica- tion. ‘‘ Make all haste to the boats and shove Se Sane 294 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 mas- ter’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 ina 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 satis- fied 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. RELI I ES ETE TT OE REE ERE TST ETT ES PRES To TSN ERE PT ATES EEE BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 225 “‘T 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 be- sides 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 Confeder- ate side, and also showed him that he had more reason to stand in fear of Captain Beards- ley than of any other man in the settlement. ‘* What worries me just now is the fear that Baca ti) 226 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. 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 re- ceived at the hands of Mr. Watkins. Themen 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 BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 227 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 opportu- nity ; 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 1c There were Er RE ONE ci ESTES 228 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 inten- tion 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 Adde- marle, BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 229 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 in- creased speed; still it was almost daylight when Mr. Watkins’s cutter and the two immedi- ately 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”? Marey 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 hisown. His old commander was startled too; 230 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 con- fessed in the boy’s presence that he had been asmugeler? If Marcy remembered that fatal admission and felt in the humor to take ad- vantage 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 remem- pered 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 © baie 3 oni gui eddie ae ale 3) Captain BraRDSLEy ‘ PERTESTS.” BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 231 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 au- ‘thority 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. ‘‘Tll pertest and fight as long as I have breath or strength left in me ; and when we have gained our independence, Cap’n Ben- ; schooner. 232 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. ton, Pll 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 at- tention 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 be- ing 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 I think he has something to say ET RI Te Bk aL ies RSE MERDE T ac EE BL —— —s BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 233 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 pri- vateer 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. “Tt 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 : Se ae _ 234 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. “TI don’t know whether I saw you on board the Osprey or not.”’ “Idon’t wonder at it, sir,” answered the young pilot. ‘‘ You had so many bitter reflec- tions to occupy your mind, about that time, that you probably do not remember a single one of the crew with the exception of Captain Beards- ley. 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 glori- ous 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. ease A ance ae 7 jaw sinister Pa ia BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 235 “T 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 bed- ~ quilts, and sleep under it every night.’ And, being a boy of business, he came at one to the subject that just then was nearest his heart. ‘‘AmI 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. SSOf course, that will be just as the flag-officer says. Why do you ask?”’ ‘“‘ Because, if Iam, 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 236 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. 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.”’ “Tf 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 con- tents. ‘‘If you will run it over, sir, I think you will find it all there.’’ ‘Good gracious, my lad! Do you take me fora bank cashier? Icould not count a pile EP RSE STI LES SALE SEDER TT BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE. 237 of money like that in an hour, and I have. scarcely two minutes’ time at my disposal now. Steward, give us acup 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 reflect- ively. ‘‘And the Confederate government got half, I suppose ?”’ : ‘Yes, sir; and half the remainder was di- vided 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 hun- dred 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. e ‘‘ There are seventeen hundred and fifty dol- 238 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. lars in this box to be exact—two shares,’’ re- plied 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 op- portunity 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. RL aA mea iT I iad EON Naa REN ae MRT ia ee BOER ac Is ea a ta Ty WAT toe CHAPTER XI. MARCY IN ACTION. ARCY GRAY was somewhat surprised, though not at all abashed, to find himself treated as an honored guest on board the gun- boat. He took breakfast with Captain Benton, who did not think it beneath his dignity to ac- knowledge 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 execu- tive officer—that it required courage to be loyal to the old flag in that country. Breakfast over, the two stepped into the cap- tain’s gig and were taken on board the South- field and into the presence of the officer who commanded the naval part of the expedition. 239 OT Tr —— = —— = = = FS EE ———E————— 240 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 wonld not do it of her own free will, and he was doing alla 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 ex- changed 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 sti ES AV AT A ad a Sa oss | eS DR Lee MAROY IN AOTION. 241 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 Con- federates 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, inti- mated 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 16 : 242 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. 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, Ican’t say. Ifhe had been taken with his privateer he might be held asa prisoner of war; but as it is, I presume he will be re- leased 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 Marey. ‘‘ And that will bea 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 Taare cas eee Tecra. eal) Ra See TSMR AGE eae =P SPOT SN aE ET MARCY IN ACTION. © 243 on his way to the side. When he saw how utterly dejected and cast down his old com- mander was, Marcy felt heartily sorry that he had said so much against him ; but afterall he hadn’t told more than half the truth. He had promised himself that he would shut Beardsley up fora 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 Beards- ley away from Nashville as long as the war continued. But unfortunately he came back. Marcy had not neglected to bring his binocu- lars with him, and finding himself at liberty after the captain went below, he walked for- | ward to take a look at things, being accom- panied 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 anch- ored in three parallel lines a short distance be- low the lighthouse, which stood on a dangerous TES 244 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. shoal on the right-hand side of the channel, the gunboats being in advance, with the excep- tion of half a dozen or more that had been drawn up on the flanks to protect the trans- ports, in case the enemy began the fight with- out 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 ob- structions 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 thatthe rebels had steam up and were ready for action, and Marcy won- dered 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 “ After you have sly wink at his companion. ERR LE GET RSE TER MAROY IN ACTION. DAD), 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.”’ **T 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. “Pll bet you have been giving advice to one who knows more than youdo. Where did you get that hand, pilot, if it is a fair question 2”? “My hand is all right, but my arm was broken by one of your shells while I was run- ning the blockade,” replied Marcy, where- upon the youngsters opened their eyes, and looked at him and at each other as though they felt the least bit ashamed of thomacive “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.” EE: 246 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. “T 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.” “JT ghould 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. J have a brother on one of these boats, and would like much to see him.” “You don’t say?’’ exclaimed Perkins. “What boat is he on, and what position does he hold ?”’ “He igs a foremast hand on the Harriet Lane. Lhope he will make himself known to his commander, for he is the best kind of a pilot for this coast.” Re a a TT a ER A Le a en EE A REESE MAROY IN ACTION. 247 “T am afraid he will not be of any use to us to-day, and that you will not shake hands with him this trip,” replied Perkins. ‘That boat is not with us. She is outside, chasing blockade runners. Hallo! There goes our answering pennant. Now, watch the signal from the flag-ship—one, nine, five, second- repeater—Aw, what’s the use of my reading off the numbers when I have no signal-book to translate them for me?”’ “It is ‘engage the enemy’ probably,” said his companion. ‘After we have answered it a few times more, perhaps we will recognize it when we see it.”’ “Tf that is what the signal means, why don’t you go to your stations?” inquired Marcy, as they began walking leisurely toward the waist to leave the forecastle clear for the blue- jackets, who came forward in obedience to a shrill call from the boatswain’s whistle, which was followed by the command: ‘All hands stand by to get ship under Way. OY Ou don’t seem to be in any haste to do anything, you two.” “What is the use of being in a hurry to get ee Ea a ee 248 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. shot at?’ said Perkins. ‘‘ Wait until you hear - the call to quarters, and then you will see us get around lively enough. But we shall not have so very much fighting todo to-day. I heard Mr. Watkins tell the officer of the deck this morning that this battle will be merely preliminary. When. the soldiers get a foot- hold on the Island you’ll see fun, unless the rebels run away.” ‘““Where is my station in action?’’ asked Marcy. ‘© Close at the old man’s side, wherever he happens to be,’’ replied the master’s mate. “And I will tell you, for your consolation, that he always happens to be in the most dangerous place he can find. There he is on the bridge, and perhaps you had better go up to him.” The bridge was a platform with a railing around it, extending nearly across the deck just abaft the wheel-house, and when Marcy mounted the ladder that led up to it, he found himself in a position to see everything that was going on. The captain was standing there with his hands in his pockets, but he TERRE ES TGs LAMINA EASIEST TERT RLM a MARCY IN ACTION. 249 seemed more like a disinterested spectator than like a man who was about to take a ship into action, for he had not a word to say to anybody. He wore a canvas bag by his side, suspended by a broad strap that passed over his shoulder ; and if Marcy could have looked into it, he would have found that it contained a small book whose cloth covers were heavily loaded with lead. This was the signal-book— one of the most important articles in a man- of-war’s outfit. The captain always kept it where he could -place his hands upon it ata moment’s notice, and if he found that his ves- sel was in danger of being captured, he would have thrown it overboard rather than permit it to fall into the hands of the enemy. For the first quarter of an hour or so Marcy Gray had nothing to do but keep out of the way of the captain, who walked back and forth on the bridge so that he could see every part of the deck beneath him by simply turn- ing his head, and watch the gunboats fall into line one after another. The ease and rapidity with which this was done surprised him. The several commanders knew their SR ase ACE Scr eRe oa er Sora 250 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. places and got into them in short order, and without in any way interfering with the ves- sels around them. If the inanimate masses of wood and iron they commanded had been pos- sessed of brains and knew what they were ex- pected to do, they could not have done it more promptly or with less confusion. It was a fine and inspiriting sight, and Marcy Gray would have walked twenty miles to see it any day. “The flagship is signalling, sir,’ said a quartermaster who was on the bridge with him and the captain. Marcy turned about and saw a long line of different-colored streamers traveling up the Southfields main-mast. When it reached the top and the breeze had carried the flags out at full length so that the captain could distin- guish them, he took down the number they represented on a slip of paper, and turned to the corresponding number in his book to see what the signal meant. This he wrote upon a separate piece of paper which he held in his hand. By the time the vessel was fairly under way a ee LE AR RN ae EE ye a EE MARCY IN ACTION. 251 several signals had been made from the com- modore’s flag-ship, and finally a rattle was sounded somewhere below; whereupon ‘the blue-jackets came running from all directions, but without the least noise or disorder, and .took their stand by the side of the big guns to which they belonged. When the command “cast loose and provide’? had been obeyed and every man was in his place, the roll was called by the commanders of the different di- visions, the sailors responding by giving the names of their stations—thus: “¢George Williams.” “First captain and second boarder, sir.”’ ‘“’ Walter Dowd.”’ ‘Second loader and first boarder, sir.” “James Smith.”’ “‘Shotman and pikeman, sir.”’ When the roll had been called the various division commanders reported to the executive officer, who always has charge of the gun-deck in action, and he approached the bridge on which the captain was standing, saluted with his sword, and said: ‘* All present or accounted for, sir.’’ 252 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “Very good, sir,’ answered the captain, giving the officer the paper he held in his hand. ‘‘ There is what the commodore had to say to us in one of his signals. Read it to the men.”’ Mr. Watkins went back to his station and took off his cap; and instantly the eye of every sailor on deck was fixed upon him. “This signal has just been made from the flag-ship,”’ said Mr. Watkins, holding the paper aloft. ‘‘Listen to the reading of it: ‘This day our country expects every man to do his duty!’ What have you men to say to that? Will you show the commodore that you’ know what your duty is by beating those fellows up there?”’ The answer was a lusty cheer, in which the officers joined as wildly as their men. Then cheers began coming from all directions, show- ing that the reading of the signal had had the same effect upon other crews. When the Stars and Stripes, the vessel.that was to lead in the attack, went by to take her station at the head of the line, her men were yelling at the top of their voices ; and when their cheers died away MARCY IN ACTION. 253 everything became quiet, and the fleet settled down to business. The first shot was fired at eleven o’clock. It was from a hundred-pounder on the leading vessel, and was directed against Fort Bartow. It was the signal for the opening of the con- test, and was quickly followed by such an up- roar that Marcy Gray could hardly hear him- self think. He had always thought that a twenty-four pound howitzer made a pretty loud noise, but it was nothing to the deafen- ing and continuous roar of the heavy guns that in a moment filled the air all about him. He thought he ought to be badly frightened, and he expected to be; but somehow he was not, and neither was he killed by the shell from Fort Bartow that struck the water close alongside and exploded, it seemed to him, almost under his feet. He was in full posses- sion of his senses, and the hand with which he levelled his glass at the Confederate fleet was as steady as he had ever known it to be. He was particularly interested in the movements of that fleet, for he was acquainted with some of the sailors who manned it. As soon as the 254 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. action was fairly begun it left its sheltered position under the guns of the fort and steamed down the channel. Its leading boats came on at such a rate of speed that Marcy thought they must know of some opening in the lines of obstructions, and that they intended to come through and demolish the Union fleet without aid from the guns on shore; but if that was their object they failed to accomplish it. Their heaviest ship, the Curlew, was whipped so quickly that her rebel commander must have been astonished; and so badly crippled was she by the solid shot that crashed through her sides, that it was all she could do to haul out of the fight and seek refuge under the guns of the nearest fort. In the end both the ship and the fort were blown up together. About this time something happened that the young pilot might have expected, but which he had never once thought of. The smoke of battle settled so thickly about his vessel that his eyes were of little use to him ; and, to make matters worse, Captain Benton shouted in his ear: “Keep a bright lookout, and if you see us _ MAROY IN AOTION. 255 getting into less than fourteen feet of water, don’t fail to let me know it.” “‘T declare, I don’t know whether there are fourteen or fourteen hundred feet of water under our keel at this moment!’’ was the thought that flashed through Marcy’s mind and awoke him to a sense of his responsibility. “I don’t know where we are.”? Then aloud he said: “I can’t see a thing from the bridge, Captain. I shall have to go aloft.” The boy did not know whether or not pilots were in the habit of going aloft in the heat of action, but he thought it was the proper thing to do under the circumstances. He went, and he did not go any too soon, either; for when he had climbed up where:he could see over the thickest of the smoke, he found to his con- sternation that the vessel was heading diagon- ally across the channel far to the eastward of the position in which she ought to be, that she would be hard and fast aground if she held that course five minutes longer, and that her shells were exploding in the edge of a piece of timber where he could not see any signs of a fort or breastwork. It was the work of but a MARCY IN ACTION. 257 256 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. diers were landed in readiness for the real battle, which was to begin on the following morning. By this time the Confederates must have been satisfied that they were going to be few seconds for Marcy to make Captain Benton “understand the situation, and when the latter * had brought his ship to her proper course by following the instructions the young pilot shouted down to him, he came up and took his stand in the top by Marcy’s side. There they both remained as long as the fight continued, and their dinner consisted of a sandwich and a cup of coffee, which the cabin steward brought ‘up to them at noon. ee The first object of the bombardment was ac- complished about five 0 clock that afternoon, when a heavy smoke was rolling over Fort Bartow, caused by the burning of the barracks, which had been set on fire by a shell from the fleet, the defiant roar of its guns being almost silenced, and its flaunting banner sent to the dust by the shooting away of the staff ne sustained it, and the enemy, all along the line, had been driven so far back that the transports could come up with the troops. It was at this juncture that the services of Mr. Daniel’s black boy, Tom, came into play. He piloted Goren! Burnside’s launches and lighters into Ashby's Harbor, and, by midnight, ten thousand sol- whipped. Commodore Lynch knew that he had had all the fighting he wanted ; for he re- treated round Wier’s Point, and was never seen afterward until Captain Rowan, with a portion of the Union fleet, hunted him up, and finished him at Elizabeth City. The battle was over shortly after dark (although the firing was kept up at intervals during the night), and the leading boats dropped back to allow others to take their places. “We are not whipped, are we?”’? exclaimed Marcy, when he witnessed this retrograde movement. ‘Oh, no,” replied the captain, as he backed down from the top. ‘We have done just what we set out to do when we began the fight this morning, and, having won all the honors that rightfully belong to us, we must fail astern, and let somebody else have a show to- morrow.”’ Marcy followed the captain to the deck, and 17 258 was greatly surprised by what he saw when he got there. There were wide openings in the hammock-nettings that he had not seen ‘there in the morning, and the ports, through which two of the broadside guns worked, had been torn into one. Some of the standing rigging was not taut and ship-shape, as it ought to have been, but was flying loose in the breeze, and there were one or two dark spots on the deck which looked as though they had been drenched with water, and afterward sanded. Marcy’s heart almost stopped beat- ing when he saw these things, for they told him that the vessel had suffered during the fight, ‘and that some of her crew had been killed or wounded, and he never knew it. But the sight of a flag which a gray-headed quartermaster was just hauling down from the masthead, drove gloomy thoughts out of his mind, and sent a thrill of triumph all through him. It was his own flag, and it had been floating over his head all day long. He took MARCY, THE REFUGEE. supper with Captain Benton, and afterward ~ went below to see the poor fellows who had not come out of the fight as well as he did. MAROY IN ACTION. 259 Two of them were laid in the engine-room, covered with the flag in defense of which they had given up their lives, and four others were wounded. The sight was nothing to those that his rebel cousin, Rodney, the Partisan, had often witnessed on the field of battle; but it was enough to show Marcy Gray that there was a terrible reality in war. The next day was the army’s. The battle began at seven in the morning ; and although the gunboats, Captain Benton’s among the rest, did the work they were expected to do and succeeded in passing the obstructions shortly after noon, the heaviest of the fight- ing was done by the soldiers. The Confeder- ate flag went down before the sun did, and twenty-five hundred prisoners, forty heavy guns, and three thousand stand of small-arms fell into the hands of the victors. The Con- federate fleet endeavored to escape by running up the Pasquotank river to Elizabeth City, Commodore Lynch thinking no doubt that he would there find re-enforcements, which could easily have been sent from Portsmouth ; but if they were there they did not do him any 260 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. good, for Captain Rowan followed him into the river the next day, and destroyed his entire squadron with the exception of one boat which was captured and transferred to the Union fleet. After demolishing a portion of the Dis- mal Swamp canal, Captain Rowan went to Edenton, Winton, and Plymouth, all of which were captured without resistance that amounted to anything, and garrisoned by troops from Burnside’s army. The historian says that the results of this ex- pedition “‘in a military point of view, were considerable ; but those of a political charac- ter did not answer the expectations of the Federal government.” It was believed that the occupation of these points would not only be the means of stopping the contraband trade, which was kept up in spite of the blockading fleet, but that it would also “‘ keep in counte- nance the partisans of the Union, who were thought to be numerous in North Carolina.” When the capture of Newbern, Beaufort, and forts Macon and Pulaski, which followed close on the heels of the reduction of Roanoke Island, put all the coast north of Wilmington into the MAROY IN ACTION. 261 hands of the Federals, blockaderunning indeed became a dangerous and uncertain business ; but Marcy Gray could not see that the native Unionists were in any way benefited. To be gin with, General Burnside released all his prisoners after compelling them to take oath that they would never again serve against the United States. Does any one suppose that the prisoners had any intention of keeping that promise, or that the Confederate government would have permitted them to keep it if they had been so disposed? It is true that some of these rebel soldiers had had quite enough of the army, and vowed that they would take to the swamps before they would enter it again ; but it is also true that the most of them, when they returned to their homes, became deter- mined and relentless foes of all Union men. So the conquest of Roanoke Island gave Marcy Gray more enemies to stand in fear of than he had before ; but it had astill worse effect upon his affairs. It was night when the soldiers that were to take possession of Plymouth and garrison the place were sent ashore from the transports. 262 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. Marcy stood on the bridge, watching them as they disembarked, and wondering how long it would be before Captain Benton would tell him that his services were no longer needed and that he might return to his home; and, while he watched and thought, he discovered a small party of men on shore with bundles in their hands or on their shoulders, and who acted as though they were waiting for a chance to come off to the fleet. He knew, as soon as he looked at them, that they were Union men who were about to take the opportunity thus presented to enlist under the old flag. “That is who they are,’ thought Marcy, after he had kept his binoculars pointed at them for a minute or two. ‘They can’t be anything else, for they are in citizens’ clothes. Now, in trying to better their own condition, are they not making matters worse for their families, if they have any? I wonder if Iam acquainted with any of them? I will soon know, for they are heading for this ship.” The boats belonging to Captain Benton’s vessel had been engaged, with all the other boats of the fleet, in taking the soldiers to the Pon MARCY IN ACTION. 263 shore, and when they placed their last load of bluecoats upon the bank and were ready to return to their ship, they brought the party of _ which we have spoken off with them. As the leading boat drew nearer to the side, so that Marcy could obtain a fairer view of the man who sat in the stern-sheets talking to the cox- swain, he uttered a cry of surprise and alarm, and almost let his glass fall from his hand. The man was Aleck Webster. CHAPTER XII. HOME AGAIN. ARCY GRAY waited until the boat drew a little nearer, and then looked again. There could be no mistake about it. The man in the stern-sheets with the coxswain was Aleck Webster, the one who had prom- ’ Gged to have an eye on Marcy and his mother while Jack was at sea, and those who composed. his party were men whom Marcy met at the post-office almost as often as he went there. If they were coming off to enlist, as Marcy thought they were, wouldn’t that break up the band who held meetings in the swamp? And if that band should be broken up, who would there be to stand between his mother and the wrath of Captain Beardsley? These questions and others like them passed through the boy’s mind, as he came down from the bridge and 264 OL : stepped to the gangway to meet Aleck and his _ HOME AGAIN. 965 friends when they came on board. Aleck was the first to get out of the boat and mount the ladder, and when he reached the top, where the officer of the deck was standing, he touched his hat and said : ‘¢ We want to ship, sir.’ “Very good,’’ was the answer. ‘Stand to one side, and some one will talk to you pres- ently.” This gave Marcy the opportunity he wanted to speak to Aleck. He moved to his side at once, and was surprised to hear Aleck say, as if he had expected to find him there: ‘*T was little in hopes I should have a chance to say good-by to you, sir. Where’s old man Beardsley, and have you seen anything of Mr. Jack ?”’ “Did you know-I was here??? asked Marcy. ‘*T knew you were in the fleet, of course, for the darkies told us about the Yankees coming ashore and taking you and Beardsley away to act as pilots,” replied Aleck. ‘But I didn’t know you were serving on this ship, if that is what youmean. Yes; we’re going now where 266 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. Weare tired we can fight for our principles. of living in the woods.”’ ‘“‘ But who will protect the Union families if you go away ?”’ said Marcy. “They'll not need any one to protect them now,”’ answered Aleck. ‘‘I talked to some of the soldiers on shore, and they told me they were here to stay; and as long as they do stay, Beardsley and Shelby and among ’em will keep as still as mice. They won’t dare to do or say anything to you while there is Union cavalry scouting around through the settle- ment every day or two. We left thirteen men in the swamp; and whether or not they will come out and show themselves as Union men, depends on the way things look after the fleet goes away.” & Marcy was on the point of telling Aleck that Beardsley had been placed in irons by Captain Benton, who was master of the Mary Hollins at the time she was captured by the Osprey, but before he could open his lips a messenger boy came up and told him that the captain wished to see him in the cabin. Marcy went, and found the captain seated at his table hold- HOME AGAIN. 267 ing a pen in one hand and something that looked like a blank sheet of paper in the other. ‘Sit down,”’ said he, pointing to a chair. ““T suppose we are as near to your home as we shall go; and as we are about to start for New- bern, where you will not be of much service to us as a pilot, I propose to give you your re- lease unless you have made up your mind to stay with us. Ishould beglad to have you do it, and will advance your interests in every way I can.”’ ‘*But what would my mother do without me ?”’ asked Marcy. “‘T assure you I have not forgotten her, and so Ido not urge you to remain,”’ replied the captain. “ Now, how can you get home in the easiest way ?” “* By boat, if I had one.’ “You can have three or four if you want that many. You know that we have captured every sort of craft we could find along the shore, and you can take your pick of any of those on deck. I don’t know that this will be of any use to you,’ said the captain, shaking 268 the sheet of paper he held in his hand, ‘‘ but I think it would be a good plan for you to take it along, for there is no telling what may hap- pen. You don’t think there is anything on it, do you? Well, there is, and it is the strongest letter of recommendation I know how to write. We are going to leave garrisons scattered all through this region, and if at any time you find yourself in trouble with them, tell the first officer you can find to hold this paper before a hot fire and read the words the heat will bring out. The letter is written with sympathetic ink, and you don’t want to use it until you have to, because, after the characters have once been brought out, there is no way that I know of to make them in- visible again. Iam deeply indebted to you, and wish there was some way in which I could serve you.” It made Marcy sad to have the captain talk to him in this way. Although he was impa- tient to get home, he did not like to take leave of the new friends he had made on board that ship, for the probabilities were that he would never see them again. After thinking a mo- MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ISR TE RETR ATL TS ET Tae Saree HOME AGAIN. 269 ment he replied that he did not know of any way in which the captain could favor him, unless it was by taking a brotherly interest in Aleck Webster and his friends, who had come off to his ship for the purpose of enlisting. ““They are on deck now,” said Marcy, in conclusion, ‘‘and I was sorry to see them come aboard. Of course they have a right to do as they please, but I had somehow got it into my head that they would stay on shore to protect those of us who are unable to pro- tect ourselves. But Aleck thinks we do not need any one to protect us now that all these captured points are to be held by the Union forces.”’ “And that is what I think,” replied the captain. “The commanding officer at Plymouth will not stand by and let your rebel neighbors impose on you. If they don’t be- have themselves, report them; that’s all you’ve got to do.” “But you don’t know how sly they are, and how hard it is to prove anything against them. The commodore as good as said that Captain Beardsley would be released.’’ 270 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “Of course; ‘and Burnside probably re- leased him at the time he paroled the prisoners we captured on the Island. When you get home you will probably find him there, but I don’t think you have anything to fear from him. There’s your letter, and here are a few copies of a joint proclamation by Burnside and Goldsborough, which Iam instructed to scat- ter wherever I go,”’ said the captain, placing a good-sized package in Marcy’s hand and rising from his seat as he spoke. ‘‘ Take them along, and put them where you think they will do the most good. I suppose the folks ashore think we are outlaws of the worst descrip- tion.”’ Marcy replied that that was about the idea the people in his settlement had of Yankees, and added that he did not believe that a single article of value could be found in a plantation house within acircle of ten miles of Plymouth, everything that was worth stealing having been carried away and concealed in the swamps. ‘Well, when you meet people of that sort, call their attention to the last paragraph of HOME AGAIN. 271 that proclamation,” said the captain. ‘‘ Now. ? we shall have to say good-by, for I expect to drop down the river in a few minutes.” “And you’ll not forget to look out for Jack and Aleck?” said Marcy. ‘You know Aleck is the man who saved me from choking. And I can have my flag back, I suppose 2”? “Pll 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 ie 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 ube 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 Barrington girl presented oe and which had waved triumphant during pee hard battles and several sharp skir- mishes, was promptly handed out by the quar- termaster on watch, and then Marcy followed the captain to the waist, to pick out the skiff 272 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 com- pelled him to come ashore with the counter- sign. 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 hap- pened to him. He was afraid that these paroled prisoners would be pliant tools in the hands of Captain Beardsley, and they HOME AGAIN. 273 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 mete before,”’ thought Marcy, as he sculled his boat out of the river into Seven Mile Creek, and sat down to take a much-needed Post and eat a portion of the lunch that Cap- tain Benton’s steward had put up for him ‘‘ Beardsley will be more vindictive than bok becanse I did not say a word for him when hye tain Benton put him in irons, and if the truth poll not answer his purpose, he’ll not scruple to lie about me. He'll try his best to force me into ne army so that he can have a clear field for his operations, but I'll tell you what’s a fact, PU not go,” said Marcy hotly. ‘Jack declared that he would take to the swamp be- fore he would fight for the Confederacy, and why shouldn’t I do the same? I will. TU become a refugee rather than shoot at the flag my brother is sailing under. who flees for refuge or safety. That’s me, as ? Refugee: one 18 274. MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 alow, familiar whistle, something like the chirp of a cricket, a short distance away. He listened until the sound was repeated, and then called out, ina husky voice : Julius!” ‘Hi ya!’? came the answer through the darkness ; and Marcy thought he had never HOME AGAIN. 975 heard anything half so melodious as the black boy’s laugh. “TIT done tol dat fool niggah he didn’t know nuffin, but he won’t ‘lated 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 oie’ “Nuffin didn’t brung me hyar; I jes done come,” replied Julius; and a slight splashing in the water indicated that he was ina boats and that he was pushing off from the bank in the direction from which Marcy’s voice sounded. ‘Dat fool Morris, he take de mn-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 ?”” HOME AGAIN. 277 276 MAROS Lee declared that they would fight before they “Well, de missus say you boun’ to come { would go into the army again. Some of the mighty soon, now dat de Yankees done cotch 3 soldiers had stopped at the house to ask for Plymouth, an’ so I come hyar,’”’ replied. { something to eat; but others had marched by Julius. ‘‘ Howdy, Marse Mahcy !” i shaking their fists and yelling derisively. The latter replied that he felt pretty well | Marcy’s heart sank when he heard that, for it but hungry, although he had just finished a proved that he had not been mistaken as to hearty lunch. Julius had been thoughtful | the course Captain Beardsley would pursue enough to provide for that, and straightway } when the Federals permitted him to return to produced a basket whose contents would have his home. Undoubtedly he had told all he withstood the assaults of two or three boys with knew about Mrs. Gray and her. two sons, and appetites sharper than his own; and while he it would have been just like him if he had ate, Marcy asked a good many leading ques- urged the defeated and enraged Confederates tions, in the hope of inducing his close-mouthed to take satisfaction out of all the Union people black friend to tell him just how things had . they could find, since they had failed to beat been going at home during his absence. He those who had confronted them in battle. In- learned that Captain Beardsley had returned deed, that was what Beardsley did ; and Marcy in company with some of the prisoners who afterward found out why his scheme did not had been paroled at the Island, but so far as work. Julius knew he had not set any new plans Having taken the sharp edge off his appetite, afloat against Marcy and his mother. Perhaps | Marcy told Julius to make the skiff’s painter he did not think it would be safe to do so fast to the stern of his dugout and go ahead; until things became a little more settled, q and the sooner he reached home the better he ~~ - for among those who had been captured at would like it. He found it much easier to lie Roanoke were many who were very bitter at full length on the bottom of his boat, and against the Confederate government, and who 278 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 con- versation he had held with Captain Benton. “Tam afraid we shall have to look up anew berth for the Fairy Belle,” saidhe. ‘‘Itmay not be safe for her to stay here any longer, be- cause 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 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. silat atiaeetes erate SE aati - a FAR TEER Se ae a EE . a cs SY oer ATT RT HOME AGAIN, . 279 put Captain Benton on the track of her,”’ said Marcy, who knew very well that he had no in- tention 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. “Tcan honestly say it, and I have a letter in 280 my pocket from Captain Benton that will bear me out in it.” ‘*T 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.”’ “T’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 Marey 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 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. HOME AGAIN. 281 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 Roa- noke 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. Ifa 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 Ben- ton 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?” 282 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. ‘“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 procla- mation 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 para- graph, 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 para- graph went on to say: These men are your worst enemies. They, in truth, have drawn you into your present condition, and are the real dis- turbers of your peace and the happiness of your firesides. We invite you, in the name of the Constitution, and in that of vir- tuous loyalty and civilization, to separate yourselves at once ST ET ee HOME AGAIN. £83 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 thatits authority may be recognized ; and we repeat that in no manner or way does it desire to in- terfere with your laws, constitutionally established; your insti- tutions, 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 seces- sion 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 Iam having a horrid dream, and that I will wake up in the morning to find everything as it was 284 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. before. Now, don’t cry, mother. Tl not talk soany 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 destroyit. Can’t we have breakfast a little earlier, so that I can go to town?” “¢Youcan have breakfast whenever you want it ; but, Marcy, I am almost afraid to have you go to town,”’ replied his mother. “Tf I thought I would be in any more dan- ger there than ITamat homeI 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 HOME AGAIN. 285 cavalry any day, and the letter ought to be kept handy.”’ In accordance with Marcy’s request break- fast 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 ves- sel. 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 rea- son was because he had so many things to oc- cupy 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 re- 286 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. venged 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 gal- loped 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 dis- covered Marcy he beckoned him to come in. “Tve 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 Cap- tain Beardsley, who acted as if he was glad to see him. CHAPTER XIII. A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. «YT JUST wanted to ask you how and when you got back,” said the captain, holding fast to Marcy’s hand. ‘‘Isee 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?”’ ‘“‘T have no reason to complain of my treat- ment,’ replied Marcy. ‘‘I had no idea that you were impressed at the time I was, until I saw you on that gunboat.” “Tf ’'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 astep. Who’d’a’ thought that me and you would ever seen any of them Zollins fellers on a war-ship? I’m mighty sorry now that I didn’t stick Captain Benton in irons the 287 288 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 non- sense.”’ ‘‘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 ie Marcy, and then he waited for Beardsley to say something about the Union men who had rescued him and his mother, but that seemed A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 289 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.” “T 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?” 19 290 “Tf I had, I would give their names to the Union commander at Plymouth before I was twenty-four hours older,’ said Marcy em- phatically. “‘T 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 indigna- tion 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 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 291 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 be- gan 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 persecut- ing 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 Colo- nel Shelby. I believe Icould 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 292 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. courage. ‘‘I never was in the Confederate ser- vice ; 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 2” ““S’pose I have? I can’t be hurt for that now.”’ ““T 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 isin 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 Pll 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, won- A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 293 dering if he had made a mistake in talking so plainly to his old commander. “Tf 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-oflice, 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 294 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. their sentiments exactly. Marcy knew him well. He lived in the settlement, and had been one of the first to put ona 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 Pm EN ES PL LT A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 295 a coward kase I don’t allow to go back and be ’bused like I was afore, Pll twist your neck for. ye.” 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 elbow- ing 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 296 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. 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 inter- rupt 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 whis- pered 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. ‘J 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 g Iam going to stay free, and I won’t shut up tillI get ready. When I say that Lon Beards- A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 297 ley 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 gun- boat. 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 atten- tion, 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 sur- prised 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 a FE NTF ERE SSIES 298 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. 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 onas 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. ‘T declare, things are getting worse every day. Ithought 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 them- selves, 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?” A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 299 ‘‘T 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. “Tam 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 Iam 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 PE a eT SATE ARE ELIT RE TEES SSL PRET SEE EE TTT ELIF ES ST TL FESS REP ST SED GREE Sag e eaae 800 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. something done toward driving from the coun- try 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 2?” 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 uttered in a town like Nashville, nine out of ten of whose citizens were supposed to be good Confederates, without a tragedy fol- lowing 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 A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 301 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 pref- erences, 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. ‘Tf 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 yester- day were here now, they would make Hawkins 802 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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?” “Tt is true that Beardsley was put in irons, but not because he refused to act as pilot,”’ replied Marey. ‘‘ 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?” A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 303 ‘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 alond. He had received one severe rebuke that morn- ing, 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 stand- ing, 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 Beards- ley 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 sur- prise and Tom’s, he took Marcy’s hand in both his own and shook it cordially. It would have 804 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 dont Bree nothing about war,” continued Hawkins, giv- ing way to his comrades, all of whom shook : Marcy’s hand one after the other, es and ve uns, who have been there, say Marcy acted just right in doing as he did. T'd’a’ done the same thing myself, and so would any other man un- less 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 [ve took I can’t,’ answered the soldier. “J did promise that I would never fight against the old flag agin, but that’s neither here nor whee: My year is pretty nigh up, and I’m going to BIAY around home and eat good grub for a while. I don’t mean to say that I won’t never ’list A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. _ 805 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 sol- dier’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. “TI 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 excep- tion of the small sum he had offered the rob- bers, and which they refused to take. And then he asked Hawkins how he happened to know anything about it. “IT know pretty much everything that’s happened here sense I went into the army, and 20 306 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. what’s more, I know why it happened,” was the answer. ‘‘My folks told meabout 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 no- body ;-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.” “T am very grateful to you for the assur- ance,” said Marcy. ‘‘But do you know that if you do not go back to serve your year out, you will be treated as deserters 3t “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.” ARLE LE A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS. 307 ' “Tdon’t care what you do to Morris so long’s you let Marse Mahcy be,” said the black man, who was almost ready to ery 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.’ ae "long now, Uncle Morris. We aint worrying on him and he will tell you so,’ re- plied! Hawkins good-naturedly. ‘But our cuuberstellcts are round picking up all the es 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 flaviened face toward Marcy. S “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 ou hands.”’ ee 308 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “‘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 évery 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 situa- tion was something he had never dreamed of, and Marcy did not believe it would last for any length of time. The Confederate authori- ties 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 dis- affected 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 ex- pressed himself so freely. And when Marcy A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS, 809 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 seaihotity 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 Gost 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 up- shot of the matter was that Mr. Benjamin be- Pate 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 govern- ment 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. ARCY 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 Burn- side expedition had to do was not finished un- til April 26, when Fort Macon, in Georgia, surrendered, after a short, but brisk, bombard- ment. 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 piscuit. 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 pun- ishment by hauling down his own flag, and sending a white one up in place of it. 310 A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 811 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 bus his rebel neighbors confessed to defeat in agent engagement, and that was all he wanted to know. But there was another thing that be- gan troubling him now, and it was something : he had not thought of. With the fall of N Be bern, 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, dis- torted, 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 312 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 J. ack, 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. lf 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 Good- win, who could not find words with which to express their disgust. These two, as we have said, spenttall 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 will- A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 313 ing 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 cross- roads, a mile away, and Tom knew in a mo- ment 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 314 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 ?2”’ “‘T mean that you had better hide your hunt- ing 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? TDve got half a dozen, and I don’t A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 815 know which to tell first. And the beauty of it is, they are all good ones.” “You said somebody had taken your hunt- ing rig away from you,’”? Tom reminded him. ‘Do you call that a good story ?”’ “T 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 some- thing. 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 any- thing of the sort. They are going to bother us by sending scouting parties through our settle- ment 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 816 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 aston- ished. “Of course he sent them that message,”’ re- plied Mark, becoming surprised in his turn. ““Wouldn’t you, if you had been in his place ?”’ ‘*Indeed, I would not,’’ said Mr. Allison, de- cidedly. ‘*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 A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 317 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 weap- ons 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 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. 318 to stand there and see them pull the house to pieces uy «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 keep- ing guard over it.” “That was done for effect,’’? declared Tom. ‘s 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 pocket- book ?”’ ‘‘T 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,” A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 819 Mark was obliged to confess, ‘‘ but, of course, I did not look into their pockets. When father heard them coming, he shoved his re- volver 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. TI tell you that made me mad.”’ “And do you think they are coming this way ?”’ asked Mr. Allison. “*T 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 EE TTT LTT EN TE RE SL TREC TE RS ST ET TI TGS PTD A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 321 820 ; MARCY, THE REFUGEE. just in the nick of time too; for as the boys 4 were returning from the garden, in which they had hastily concealed the guns and their ac- | 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 ad- miringly 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 fol- low 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 Ov sy Fe is Mark’s suggestions were carried out, and coutrements, they heard the pounding of a mul- titude 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 re- turned 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 settle- 21 822 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ment 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 pleas- antly. ‘It ismy duty to ask if you have any- thing 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 cap- tain. ‘‘ 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 dis- mounted, his example being quickly followed by his men. “Of course I will bring them out,” Mr. Allison hastened to say. ‘‘ But they are heir- looms and I don’t like to part with them. A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 323 Besides, they are no longer of use as weap- ons.” He went into the house as he said this, and the captain, who seemed to be a lively, talka- tive fellow, and good-natured as well, even if he wasa 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 un- easy. ‘Nothing whatever. You have aright 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 him- self 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 824 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 ob- ject 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 asit happens,” said Tom. ‘‘ He has been pilot on a privateer and blockade runner.”’ A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 825 “ Aha!” said the captain. “Yes,” continued Tom. ‘But the minute you Yankees came here and captured the Isl- and 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 officer’s sword and a flint-lock musket that, so he said, had passed the winter with Washington at Valley Forge. “Tf 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 dis- appeared down the road, and then Mark said: 826 ““What do you reckon he meant by grin- ning at me in that fashion ?”’ ‘He meant that those ‘heirlooms’ of father’s did not fool him worth a cent,” an- swered 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 fail- ure.” ‘‘ Judging by the stories that have been cir- culated about her she was a failure; but judged by the work she did three days ago she is a glorious success,” replied Mark, paus- ing for a moment to enjoy the surprise which MARCY, THE REFUGEE. A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 327 his statement occasioned among his auditors; for now that the Yankees had taken them- selves 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 cap- tured 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 ?”’ in- quired Mrs. Allison. ‘* And where ?”’ chimed in Tom. ~ “And how did you hear of it, seeing that the Yankees have rendered our post-office at Nash- "ville useless to us ?”’ said his father. ‘Tt happened on the afternoon of the 8th of March, and the scene of the conflict was Hamp- ton Roads, off the mouth of the James,’’ an- swered 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 itis true, every word of it,’’ said Mark 828 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. 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 smug- gled 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.” “T 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 dis- posed of, Commodore Buchanan, the gallant commander of the Virginia, would have his choice of two courses of action: he could not + A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 329 carry coal enough to run up and lay the city of New York under contribution, but he could reduce Fortress Monroe and bombard Washing- ton, or he could come South, scatter Golds- borough’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 de- cide to follow ?”’ *‘T don’t know,” replied Mark. ‘‘I wish I did ; but that letter was written on the even- ing 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 330 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. MAROY, THE REFUGEE. ‘*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 Washing- ton. 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. eae et aes eee a rset A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 831 ‘‘T was not aware that there was an organi- zation of that kind in the settlement,’’ said Mr. Allison. © “T didn’t either until father told me last night,’ answered Mark. ‘‘ And Iam 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.”’ “Tl 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. ‘“*T 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 332 MARCY, THE REFUGER. that if we had had strong companies of well- disciplined Home Guards around here, Roa- noke Island would not have been captured.” “Who cares what Ben Hawkins says?” ex- claimed 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, ‘‘T 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 re- bukes 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 accom- panied by his wife, and Tom and Mark de- scended the steps out of ear-shot of the rest of A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 333 the family. ‘‘ Where shall we go?” was the first question they asked each other. “‘T 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 fight, we may be sorry we didn’t go somewhere else. What do you say ?”’ ‘*T 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 pre- tend 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 work- 334 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ing 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 A YANKEE SOOUTING PARTY. 8385 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, rest- ing 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 fora fact, and if they didn’t mind, ’'d go up and bring ’’em out. SoIclim 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 impa- tiently. ‘‘ Nothing in the wide world but an old shot- — gun 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 336 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. 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 gota 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 Iam 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 ?”’ Ee A ee ee A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY. 337 “Tl 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 Spicka, “Why didn’t they take Marcy himself as well as the guns?”’ continued Tom. ‘He couldn’t deny that he has given aid and com- fort to the Confederates by running the block- ade 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.” 22 338 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “‘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. CHAPTER XV. MARCY SEES SOMEBODY. F you would like to know why Captain Burrows (that was the name of the officer who commanded the Union troopers) did not find in Mrs. Gray’s house any articles that were contraband of war, we will ride with him and his company long enough to find out. ' During the days of which we write scouting was a necessary duty, but it sometimes hap- pened that it was one of the most disagreeable, particularly when it fell to the lot of a gentle- man like Captain Burrows, and his orders compelled him to enter private houses whose only inmates were supposed to be women and children ; but now and then these scouts found able-bodied men in uniform concealed in dwell- ings that were thought to be occupied wholly by non-combatants. During the Yazoo Pass expedition the gunboat to which we belonged 339 340 ' MARCY, THE REFUGEE. was ordered to search all the houses along the banks of the Coldwater and Tallahatchie rivers, although we knew that that impor- tant duty had already been performed by the soldiers. In one house, whose female ‘occu- pants vociferously affirmed that all the men who belonged there were in Vicksburg and had not been near home for six months, a belt con- taining a sword and revolver was found under abed. That was as good evidence as we wanted that the man who owned the belt was not far away, and after a short search he was discovered in the cellar. No doubt there were better hiding-places about the house, but the biue-jackets came up so suddenly that he did not have time to go to them. A little further search resulted in the finding of some impor- tant dispatches which the Confederate had concealed in a barrel of corned beef ; but when its contents were poked over by a bayonet, the dispatches betrayed themselves by rising to the surface. So you see it was sometimes nec- essary to search private houses; but like Mr. - Watkins, the gunboat officer who took Marcy Gray from his bed to serve as pilot in the MAROY SEES SOMEBODY. 341 Union navy, Captain Burrows wished that some other officer had been detailed to do the work. Although he went from Beardsley’s house straight to Mrs. Gray’s, he had no in- tention of searching it. He knew more of Marcy than Tom and Mark thought, and per- _ haps he could have told them a few things con- cerning themselves that would have made them open'theireyes. He had halted and questioned every negro he met on his scout, and he knew the name of every Union man and every rebel in the settlement. When he arrived at the house he did not lead his men into the yard, nor did he ride in. himself. He dismounted and went in on foot, and Marcy, who had seen him coming, opened the door without giving him time to knock. “TI know you are Marcy Gray, from the de- scriptions I have heard of you,” was the way in which the captain began his business. ‘‘I am told that you have any number of danger- ous weapons as well as a Confederate flag in your possession.”’ “*T plead guilty,” replied Marcy. ‘‘ Will you walk in?” 342 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. He was not at all afraid of the officer, for the latter smiled at him in a way that put him quite at his ease. Besides, if the captain knew anything about him, as his words seemed to in-* dicate, he must be aware that he had willingly served under the Union flag, and under the other one because he could not help himself. Marcy led him into the room in which his mother was waiting, and the captain straight- way quieted her fears, if she had any, by say- ing: ; “T am ona scout, madam, looking for rebel soldiers and fire-arms that may be concealed in the settlement; but, so far as you are concerned, my visit is merely a matter of form.” “‘Take this chair,’’ said Marcy, ‘‘and I will be back in a moment.”’ The Confederate flag had been removed from its place on the wall, but the boy knew where to find it; and when he brought it into the room he brought with it his fine rifle and shot- gun, his revolvers, a bed-quilt and the letter that Captain Benton had given him; and Julius, who followed at his heels, brought as many more guns, which belonged to the absent MAROY SEES SOMEBODY. 343 Jack. He was gone but a few minutes, but quite long enough to enable Mrs. Gray to give the visitor some scraps of his history ; and as her story was confirmed by those he had heard from the negroes along his line of march, he was so well satisfied of Marcy’s loyalty that when the latter came in and deposited his burdens on the table, the officer had not the least intention of taking any of them away with him. He spread the Confederate flag upon the floor so that he could see it; exam- ined the guns one after another, and inquired about the shooting on the plantation; and held Captain Benton’s letter up to the light, to see if he could read what was written upon it. ‘“‘There’s a fire on the hearth, sir,’ Marcy reminded him. “JT know there is; but if I should bring out the words by holding this paper to the heat, and it should some day fall into the hands of the rebels, it might make serious trouble for you,” said the captain. ‘‘If such a thing happens I don’t want to be the means of it, for I know that you were of service to our fleet during the fight at Roanoke Island.”’ 344 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “T was there, sir,’ answered the boy modestly. ‘And if you say so, I will rip up this quilt and show you the Union flag that waved over my head while I was acting as Captain Benton’s pilot.” “‘A Union flag in this house, alongside of a Confederate!’? exclaimed the captain, who was surprised to hear it. ‘‘I should think you would be afraid to have it about you. I understand that the most of the people in this neighborhood are the worst of rebels.”’ Marcy replied that although there were some Union people in the settlement the Confed- erates outnumbered them two to one, but he did not believe that any of the latter knew there was a Union banner in the house. Then he went on to explain how and when it came into his possession, and again offered to pro- duce it; but Captain Burrows said he would not put him to so much trouble. He asked a few leading questions which he knew Marcy could not answer unless he had really ‘‘ been there,” after which he took his cap from the table, saying as he did so: : “Tf you will take a friend’s advice, you will MARCY SEES SOMEBODY. 845 conceal those guns, as well as any other ar- ticles of value you may have, somewhere out- side, and keep Captain Benton’s letter where you can put your hand on it at any hour of the day or night. It is probable that some of our scouts will be along here every few days, and I am afraid there will be some among them who will insist on going through your house. Besides, the Home Guards may need those guns to arm some of their men.” “Home Guards?’’ echoed Marcy. ‘‘ What are they ?”’ ‘Well, they are men who, although they haven’t the courage to enlist in the army to fight us, are perfectly willing to act as police in the rear of the Confederate army. It is their intention to patrol the settlement, night and day, until they drive out every man who is suspected of Union sentiments.”’ Marcy looked bewildered, and his mother was frightened. “Ts it possible that you haven’t heard of it?’’ continued the captain. ‘‘ Then it proves the truth of the old saying that one needs to go away from home to learn the news. We 346 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. know all about it, and we also know that these Home Guards intend to operate as they do in Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri; that is, they will be industrious and peaceful farmers during the daytime, and thieves and murderers at night. But mind you, as fastas we can locate them, we shall run them in and hold them as prisoners of war. I hope that you, and the rest of the Union people about here, will be watchful and keep us posted.”’ “This is news to me,” said Marcy, as soon as his surprise would allow him to speak. “I never dreamed of such a thing.”’ “Then I am very glad I mentioned it,” said the officer. “And I am certain I can give you the name of every man in the company,” added Marcy. ‘What do you suppose put the idea into ther heads ?”’ 3 ‘¢T am sure I do not know, unless it was that fight in Hampton Roads, which created the wildest excitement all over the country. The Richmond people were very jubilant, while our Washington folks were correspondingly depressed.”’ MARCY SEES SOMEBODY. 347 ‘“‘That is another piece of news,’ said Mrs. Gray. ‘‘To what particular battle do you refer, Captain ?”’ “Don’t you know anything about that, either ?’’ exclaimed the officer, throwing open his coat, and thrusting his hand into an inside pocket. ‘‘It was a fight between our fleet and six Confederate steamers—five wooden vessels and one iron-clad. It lasted the better part of two days. At the end of the first day the ad- vantage was all with the Confederates, who captured and burned one of our best ships and sunk another, without any serious damage to themselves. These papers, which I shall be glad to leave with you, tell all about it, and they will also give you a faint idea of the con- sternation that seized upon everybody up North, when the story got abroad that the rebels had one single vessel that could cope with Uncle Sam’s entire navy. Every city along the coast, as well as the capital, was sup- posed to be at the mercy of that one iron-clad ; but when she came out, on the morning of the 9th, to complete her work of destruction, she ran against a snag, in the shape of a little 848 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. Union iron-clad, not more than half her size, which had come upon the scene during the night.” “And did those two iron-clads fight?” exclaimed Marcy, who was worked up to the highest pitch of excitement. ‘‘ Which whipped ?”’ “Of course they fought, for that was what our vessel, the Monitor, went down there for. She came in the night and anchored behind the hull of one of our big ships, so that the rebel boat did not see her until she was close upon her. They had the hardest kind of a fight, and ‘our vessel whipped.” Marcy did not break out into cheers as the captain no doubt thought he would, but settled contentedly back in his chair and drew a long breath of relief. “Our fellows did not sink the Virginia as they tried to do,”’ continued Captain Burrows, “but they gave her such a pounding that it was all she could do to draw out of the fight and go back to Norfolk. We had the best of the engagement, for the rebel boat failed to accom- plish the object she had in view when she came MARCY SEES SOMEBODY. 849 out, which was to sink the three frigates that were aground off Fortress Monroe.”’ “And you think it was during the excite- ment consequent upon the first day’s victory that our neighbors were led to organize the Home Guards ?’’ said Mrs. Gray. “T certainly think it had much to do with it,’ answered Captain Burrows. ‘‘ You see these ‘stay-at-homers,’ as I have heard them called, jumped to the conclusion that the Yankees were whipped, and when the war is over they want to be able to say that they helped do it.’’ : “Pardon my curiosity,” said Marcy. ‘But have you seen Ben Hawkins ?”’ “T don’t think there will be any harm in telling you that I had a short talk with him before I came here. I met him on the road, and he volunteered so much information con- cerning his neighbors that I became suspicious of him. But I have since learned that he told me nothing but the truth. He is a paroled prisoner and, I may add, a warm friend to you and your mother.”’ ‘‘And you do not think it would be unwise 350 to trust him?” said Mrs. Gray, who had list- ened with surprise to her son’s account of the speech he had heard Hawkins deliver in the post-office. ‘“No,I do not. He is very bitter against the Confederacy, as many of his comrades are ; he has had enough of soldiering, and if I were in your place I think I should look upon him as a friend.” **T thank you for saying so much,’’ replied Marcy. ‘‘I am sure we need friends bad enough.” “And don’t forget,’’ said the captain as he rose to go, ‘‘that we are not here for fun. I shall report you to my commander as a staunch MARCY, THE REFUGEE. Union family, and if your rebel neighbors - prove troublesome and you will let us know, we will surely punish them for it. I wish you good-day.”’ ‘Now there’s a friend worth having,” said Marcy, when he and his mother were once more alone. ‘‘He brought us bad news, though. He did not want to say too much against his comrades, but he said enough, and I think we had better hide your silver and jew- AT age 1 a ERAS GARRET acces eect ee ee MAROY SEES SOMEBODY. 351 elry before some rascal in blue walks off with them.” “No doubt it would be a wise thing to do,”’ replied Mrs. Gray. ‘‘He said he heard that there were arms and a flag in the house; have you any idea who told him ?”’ “‘Beardsley is the chap,’’ answered Marcy readily. ‘‘ Two or three times I was on the point of asking what the captain said to him, but I was afraid he might not answer me. Beardsley can’t get me into trouble with the Yankees, and he might as well give up trying. Now let’s read about the fight in Hampton Roads.” -“ What about the Home Guards ?”’ said his mother. “‘T will take a ride presently and see if I can learn something about them. They must have been very sly in getting up their company, for I don’t believe our darkies knew the first thing about it. If they did they would have- told us. I wonder if it wouldn’t bea good plan for me to join it.” ‘Why, Marcy, they would not accept you!”’ exclaimed Mrs. Gray. 352 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “That’s what I think ; but if they refuse it will show me that I had better be on my guard, won't it?” “T am glad to know that Hawkins is our friend.”’ “When I met him in Nashville, and he took the trouble to cross the road and shake hands with me and say that I did just right while I was on Captain Benton’s gunboat, I knew- - right where he stood,’’ answered Marcy. “TI can see him as often as I have anything to say to him, for he is loafing about the settlement all the time.” While Marcy talked he was looking through one of the papers Captain Burrows had left behind for the account of that famous fight in Hampton Roads, and when he found it he read it aloud. ‘The result of the first day’s struggle must have been alarming as well as discourag- ing to the loyal people in the North, and the gloomy predictions that were made in the papers concerning the terrible things the Vir- ginia was going to do when she finished the Union fleet at Fortress Monroe, were enough to make Marcy feel gloomy himself. But the MAROY SEES SOMEBODY. 853 account of the next fight was most inspiriting. The little Monitor proved to be more than a match for her ponderous antagonist. Wash- ington would not be bombarded, the blockad- ing fleet, which the Virginia was to sink or capture at her leisure, was still on top of the water and likely to stay there, and the recog- nition of the Southern Confederacy by France and England was as far off as ever. ‘‘There’s one thing I like about Northern papers,’’ said Marcy, when he had read every line he could find that in any way related to the matter that was just then uppermost in his mind. ‘‘ They always tell the truth. If their people are whipped they don’t hesitate to say so, but ours gloss it over and try to make it _ appear that every fight is a Confederate vic- tory. According to our Newbern papers the South hasn’t lost a single place that she couldn’t spare as well as not. Donelson and Fort Henry were outposts that we did not in- tend to hold anyway, and Roanoke Island was of so little consequence that the Rich- mond authorities did not garrison it as heavily as they would if they had wanted 23 354 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. to keep it. It’s the worst kind of bosh, and everybody in the South knows it. Now then,” he added, addressing himself to Julius, who, since he followed his master into the room, had stood in one corner hearing and seeing all that was said and done, ‘‘ put these guns and things where they belong, and stand by to-night after dark to help me hide them in the garden. You heard what that Federal officer said about the Home Guards, didn’t you? Well, what do you know of them ?”’ ‘“Not de fustest think, Marse Mahcy,”’ an- swered the boy earnestly. ‘‘Dey gettin’ to be mighty jubus of de niggahs round hyar, an’ nobody nebber say nuffin whar Julius kin ketch it.” ‘‘ Keep your eyes and ears open, and if you do catch on to anything come straight to me with it; do you understand? NowI am going to ride out for a while.”’ “Do you intend to say anything about our visitors ?”’ inquired his mother. “Tf I meet any one who knows they were here I don’t see how I can avoid speaking of them,’’? was Marcy’s reply. ‘‘But circum- Ee RR oi eal bai acres MAROY SEES SOMEBODY. 855 stances will have to determine what I shall say about them. I don’t mean to let every Tom, Dick, and Harry know how very friendly that captain was with us. I don’t think it would be just the thing. Good-by.”’ “Look a hyar, Marse Mahcy,”’ began Julius ; and then he hesitated for as much as a minute before he went on to say, ‘‘ You know dat nigeah Mose ?”’ “Yes, I know Mose,’’ answered Marcy, and he might have added that he knew him to be the laziest and most worthless black man on the plantation. ‘What of him?” “Well, sar, moster,”’ replied the boy, ‘“‘ when I fotch in dem guns an’ luf’em on de table I slip out de do’ kase I aint wantin’ to see no horns an’ hoofs like Marse Jack say de Yan- kees done got, an’ I see Mose talkin’ wid dem Soldiers in de road. Den he slip thoo ’em into de bresh on de odder side de road an’ never come out no mo’; an’ den I come hyar to tol’ you.”’ “Do you mean to say that Mose has run away ?’cried Marcy and his mother in con- cert. ape — RELI ——__ : ee Plc oN oa gesaeoer ch ast a, Meta ea SMR ED aL Te roma MARE ie ea ls Fa arpa 856 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “Yes, sar, missus ; dat’s what I mean,”’ re- plied Julius. Marcy was much surprised to hear it, but after all it was nothing more nor less than he had predicted when the war first broke out. The negroes knew to a man that the contest between the North and South would decide whether they were to be bondsmen or free, and it was natural that their sympathies should be on the side of those who did not believe in slavery, and that they should desire to be with them. bee “You are quite sure that the Yankee sol- diers did not take Mose away, are you?”’ said Marcy, after a little pause. Yes, Julius was positive about that. When the Federal captain left the house Julius had hastened to the front porch in order to satisfy himself on that very point, and had taken pains to see that Mose was not with the sol- diers when they rode away. Mose had gone on his own hook. “Tam afraid he will repent when it is too late,” said Mrs. Gray, with a sigh of regret. “‘ Mose is too old, and too badly crippled with MARCY SEES SOMEBODY. 857 rheumatism, to be of any use to his new friends.” “T suppose you and Morris will be going next,” said Marcy, nodding at Julius, ‘‘and that, if I want my filly brought to the door, I can bring her myself.” “Oh, hursh, honey,’ replied the boy. ‘I aint a-keerin what dat old niggah Morris gwine do, but Julius aint gwine run away.” “I think you are better off here than you would be anywhere else. The Yankees be- lieve that those who don’t work can’t eat, and that would let you out so far as grub is con- cerned. You never did a hand’s turn in your life. Now go and tell Morris to saddle my horse, and then come back, and put away these guns as I told you.” When Julius left the room Marcy put on his hat, and went out to ask if any of the other house servants knew that old Mose had run away, and was not much surprised to find that they all knew of it and had been expecting it, for Mose had given them due notice of what he intended to do. He had often been heard to Say that if the Yankee soldiers ever came to a EES aE poaae th 2 aa ts een ea iin Pee ee, 358 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. the plantation he would go away with them, ~ and he had kept his word. Some planters in the neighborhood would have said, ‘‘ Good rid- dance to bad rubbish,” for of late years Mose had not done work enough to pay for the corn meal and bacon he ate, let alone the clothes he wore; but Marcy felt sorry for him, and pre- dicted that Mose would repent of his bargain in less than a month. ‘“‘Marse Mahcy, will the Yankees luf him come back if he wants to?” inquired Morris. ‘‘T reckon not,”’ was the boy’s answer. ‘‘ The Federal general, Butler, has declared slaves to be contraband of war, and I don’t think they will give Mose up any more than they would surrender a mule they had captured. Now, what do you black ones know about the Home Guards?”’ ; The expression of bewilderment that came upon the ebony faces by which he was sur- rounded prepared Marcy for the reply. The servants, one and all, declared that they did not know what he meant; and this made it plain that the rebels in the settlement were be- ginning to learn that their black people could CI LT MAROY SEES SOMEBODY. 359 not be trusted to keep their secrets. He went into the house to tell his mother what he had learned, and finding his filly at the door when he came back, he mounted and rode away. The first white man he saw was one who could have told him all about the Home Guards if he had been so disposed. It was Captain Beardsley, who was still in the field with his negroes, Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin hav- ing left him a few minutes before Marcy came up. The man did not stop his work and come to the fence, nor did he look up as Marcy rode by ; and this made the latter believe that his old captain had some reason for wishing to avoid him. “He is going to spring something else on me, and before long, too,’ was what Marcy said to himself as he passed on down the road. “When Beardsley won’t talk he is dangerous.” That he had shot close to the mark was made evident to Marcy before ten minutes more had passed over hishead. A short distance farther on was the gate which gave entrance to the carriage-way that ran by the ruins of Beards- ley’s home. It was wide open, and as he rode Sf 360 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. up he saw a horseman passing through it. Marcy had a fair view of him, and recognized him at once as the man Hanson, his mother’s old overseer ; and he was riding one of Beards- ley’s horses, CHAPTER XVI. A FRIEND IN GRAY. ARCY GRAY had seldom thought of his mother’s overseer since he learned that he had been spirited away by armed and masked men, and, when he did, it was to in- dulge in the hope that he would never see or hear of him again. He did not believe that Hanson would dare disregard the warning of the Union men, who had “turned him loose, with orders never to show his face in the settle- ment again;”’ but here he was, riding along the public road in broad daylight, without making the least effort at concealment, and, to make the situation more alarming, he was riding one of Captain Beardsley’s horses. Acting upon the first thought that came into his mind, Marcy urged his filly forward, in- tending to speak to the man, and Hanson, nothing loath, turned his horse about to wait for him. 861 362 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “Tm on hands agin, like a bad piece of money,” he said, with a laugh. “So I see,’’ answered Marcy. : ‘‘And I must say that I little expected to meet you.”’ Hanson's response, and the way in which he acted, disheartened Marcy Gray, for they gave him a clew to the course this enemy of his mother’s had marked out for himself. The first thing he did was to ride up and offer Marcy his hand, and the boy took it, because he did not think it would be policy to refuse. He wanted to find out what the man’s plans were, and he could not do that by making him angry the first thing he did. Then Hanson went on to say: “But ’'m back agin, all the same, and safe and sound, too. I hope you didn’t think I would let them few Yankees scare me away from my home altogether? I belongon your plantation, and there’s right where I am going before [am many hours older.”’ This was an astounding and terrifying state- ment, and it was a minute or two before Marcy could collect his wits sufficiently to reply to it. “We never expected you to come back, and Ae ee A FRIEND IN GRAY. 363 so I took your place,” said he at length. ‘I am my mother’s overseer now.”’ “You!” exclaimed Hanson, with a laugh. “What do you know about farming and driv- ing niggers? ’Taint gentleman’s work, that aint, and you aint by no means suited to it. Pll take it off your hands now. ’Cording to my contract, I can’t leave till next month, any way, and, besides, I’ve lost right smart of time. I didn’t leave the plantation of my own free will; but that don’t make no difference.” ‘“We owe you a little money, and mother will give it to you any day you call for it; but we don’t ask you to make up any lost time,’’ said Marcy, who couldn’t bear the thought of having this sneaking Hanson on the plantation again. “TI know what my duty is,” replied the Overseer very decidedly, ‘‘and I mean to do it. I bargained with your mother for so much ayear. I want every cent of that money, for I can’t afford to do without it ; but I shan’t ask for it till I have done twelve good solid months of work.” Marcy felt like yelling, and it was only bya 364 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. great effort of will that he controlled himself. ‘He knew pretty nearly what was before him now. He believed that Beardsley had kept track of Hanson; that he knew where he had been all the while, and that he had brought him back to fill out his unexpired term as overseer, because he had failed to induce Marcy and his mother to employ Kelsey in his place. Hanson would make it his business to get on the track of that money. He would not suc- ceed, of course; but Mrs. Gray would not see a moment’s peace during her waking hours, or - enjoy a moment’s refreshing sleep at night, as long as Hanson remained on the place. Oh, why was not Aleck Webster on hand to tell him what to do in a case like this ? ‘‘T knowed your maw would be looking for me to come back and finish out my time,” con- tinued Hanson, ‘‘but I was most afraid to come till I heard that the coast was clear, and I wouldn’t be in no danger of being pestered by them Union men.” “‘There are some of them about here yet,” said Marcy. ‘“Not many, there aint,’’ replied the over- A FRIEND IN GRAY. 3865 seer, who seemed to understand the situation perfectly. ‘‘The wust of them have went into the Yankee navy ; and them that’s left aint men to be afraid of. Besides, ve got a body ~ guard that won’t put up with no nonsense from them or any other Union men. You know all about the Home Guards ?”’ “T heard of them for the first time this morning,” said Marcy truthfully. ‘‘ But then I have not been around much since I vame home.”’ The last words slipped out before Marcy knew it; but Hanson seemed to take them as a matter of course, for he said in re- ply: : ‘*T don’t know as I blame you for keeping clost to home for a few days. You couldn’t do no other way than you did do, but there’s some onreasonable folks about who stick to it that you had oughter run that there gunboat on the ground. That’s what Beardsley allowed to do, but they didn’t give him the chance. I wouldn’t like ‘to be one who had anything to do with the burning of Beardsley’s : house. He’s an officer in the Home Guards, a ~ 366 MAROY, THE REFUGHE. _ leftenant or something, and he allows to hunt them men down the first thing he does.” ‘“Probably he knows where to look for them,” said Marcy. ‘‘Tf he don’t he can guess pretty clost to the place,’ answered Hanson. ‘‘ But you’re all right. Nobody in this settlement is going to let harm come to you.” — ‘‘When did you return, and how does it come that you are riding the captain’s horse ?”’ “Oh, him and me has always been friends, and when he got Miss Brown to write to me in Newbern that it was safe for me to come back and work my year out on your plantation, and that he knew you and your maw was looking for me to do it, as any honest man should, I come right to his house. Ive been here three days, looking round and keeping sorter clost in doors, and allow to go up to your place this afternoon.” So it seemed that there was no help for it, at least for the present. The man had told him some things he was glad to know, and talked as though he believed Marcy to be as good a Bat cea aa ra Soe Le RLS ied A FRIEND IN GRAY. 3867 rebel as he was himself. Perhaps he would be willing to go further and tell him how he, Marcy, stood in the estimation of the Home Guards. “‘T suppose the object of that organization is to make Union men behave themselves,’ he said, at a venture. “You're mighty right,’’ answered Hanson. “Likewise to see that all the prisoners about here, who was paroled at the Island, go back to the army where they belong. Some of ’em have been talking agin the *Federacy in a way we uns don’t like to hear, and we’re going to put a stop to all sich work as that.” ““No one asked me to join, and that is the reason I knew nothing about it,’’? continued Marcy. ‘When you see Beardsley, will you tell him that I want to come in?” If he expected the man to hesitate or raise objections he was disappointed, for Hanson | answered readily ; “Tl doit. You'll get in easy enough, and I know Beardsley will be glad to have you. Some of our men aint got a thing in the way of guns, and I know you wouldn’t mind lend- SR SE I RE 368 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ing some of yours that you don’t need. Well, I must be piking along. Tl be up this after- noon, tell your maw.”’ “And it will be the worst news she ever heard,” thought Marcy, as the two separated and rode away in different directions. ‘‘ What he is up to now I can’t imagine ; but he has strong backing, I know from the way he talks. Mother has always been afraid that he would come back to trouble her, and here he is. And here am I without a friend to ad- vise or assist me. I was almost sure that some- thing like this would happen when Aleck Webster and his friends deserted me.” But if Aleck was gone there was at least one man in the neighborhood who was able and willing to take his place, and that was Ben Hawkins, the paroled prisoner, whom he en- countered before he left Beardsley’s gate a _ quarter of a mile behind. The man was sit- ting on his horse in the middle of the road, and the first words he spoke seemed to indicate that he was waiting for Marcy. “Who was that onery looking chap I met A FRIEND IN GRAY. 869 along here a spell ago riding Beardsley’s old clay-bank?” said Hawkins. “I seen you talking to him up there.”’ ; : ‘Oh, Mr. Hawkins,”’ exclaimed Marcy, who had suddenly resolved to put a certain matte to the test then and there. ‘You saw and talked with a Fedéral scouting party that came through here this morning, and the officer in command told me that you are a good friend of mine. Is that so or not?” *“What do you i asked the =4 in ane et eae oe = ne Os a hundred things,” answered Marcy. But in the first place, do you know anythin about the Home Guards?” : se pelng one of ’em I oughter know all about em,” was the reply. “But not being pizen enough agin the Unionists to suit em, I have sorter got it into my head that the Ing some things from me. know enough to be sartin sur harm to you.” (79 7 That is what I thought ; and Iam certain of it too, no i 2 » how that this Hanson hag returned. y are keep- All the same, I e that they mean 370 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. He used to be my mother’s overseer, and is the man who was taken from his house and carried into the swamp.”’ “So that’s the chap, is it?”’ exclaimed Haw- kins. ‘‘I didn’t know him, for your mother hired him after I ’listed; but I’ve heard as much as want to knowabout-him. Of course he is going back on the place to stay his time out ?”” “That is what he says; but the worst of it is that he wants to make up the time he lost by being carried away. Now, is there any way in which I can stop that?” «You can shoot him, I reckon. That’s what Td do for any man who kept shoving himself on me when he wasn’t wanted, like this feller is shoving himself on you and your maw.” Marcy made no reply, for nothing he could then think of would have induced him to carry things as far as that. Hawkins understood. this, and after thinking a moment he added : “You can give his name to the fust Yankee officer you meet scouting around out here, or you can leave a note on Beardsley’s gallery and Shelby’s, telling them that, if they don’t get SSE. a ee A FRIEND IN GRAY. 871 him off your place in a little less than no time, some more of their buildings will go up in smoke. Where’s the schooner that Beardsley used to run the blockade in? He’d ruther lose half his niggers than lose her.’’ “I know what you mean, but the trouble is I can’t prove anything on him. I can’t bear the thought of destroying his property just because I think he is persecuting me.” “Tf you should blame everything that has happened to you on him you would not be wrong,”’ said Hawkins earnestly. ‘He's ees agin you for not trying to mak d i i sey : Ss ae gunboat cap’n quit putting him in ss How in the name of common sense could I stop it?” cried Marcy. “TI didn’t volunteer to go on that boat (I blame Jonas for that) ae Captain Benton have paid any - a oe ae I had interceded for Beards- ued ae a ae brought myself into “Course,” replied Hawkins. « A blind man could see that, but all the same nec means to even up with you ’cause he Bie 372 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ironed and you wasn’t. He is first leftenant of the Home Guards, Colonel Shelby being the captain, and he’s going to take you out?n your bed some night and send you to Williams- ton.”’ “What for?’’? exclaimed Marcy. “And put you in jail there,” continued Hawkins. . “The lock-up is jammed full of Union men already, but they'll find room for one more. And mind you, after you onct get in you'll not come out till you promise to list in the Confederate army. ‘That’s the way they are doing now to put patriotism into people who aint got any.” “Do you know when the Home Guards in- tend to come to our house ?”’ “‘No, I don’t. Iwisht I did, so’t I could tell you when to be on the watch for’em; but that’s one of the things they aint told me, and the only way I can think of for you to beat ’em is to be on your guard night and day, beginning now.” While this conversation was going on Marcy and his companion had been riding slowly in the direction of Nashville. Just before they At a A FRIEND IN GRAY. 373 came within sight of the town they met a man dressed in a ragged uniform, and riding a mule that looked as though it had served through two or three hard campaigns. Marcy recog- nized him as a poor white of the Kelsey stamp, and Hawkins told him in a whisper that he was a paroled prisoner like himself, a friend of his, a member of his company and mess, and also a Home Guard whom the officers were not afraid to trust. If Marcy would ride on and leave him alone with the ay he might be able to obtain some informa- tion from him. Marcy was glad to agree to this programme, and it was duly carried out. He went ahead and waited half an hour in Nash- ville, and might have remained a still loncer uate had he not seen Hawkins ride a shont distance down the road from the first turn and then wheel his horse and ride back tai out of sight. Taking this for a signal Mare mounted his filly and set out for one, a as he expected, found Hawkins in the one Pace in the road where he had held two ieee views with Aleck Webster. He thought ihe man looked very sober, but before he could 374 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. speak of it Hawkins said, in a thrilling whisper : ‘‘Mister Marcy, you aint safe in this here settlement one hour longer. I dunno but you had oughter be out of it now.” “What did that friend of yours tell you?” asked the boy, with a desperate effort. to appear calm, although he knew that his face was as white as it could be. “He said the Home Guards have got things fixed jest as they want ’em, and that they are liable to begin operations any time,” answered Hawkins, who looked as uneasy as Marcy felt. “Beardsley won’t hear to nothing but that you must be got rid of the very fust thing. You know too much to be let loose any longer.” “T know that Beardsley was a smuggler, and believe I could have made trouble for him by saying that much to Captain Benton ; but I did not do it,” replied Marcy. ‘‘I hadn’t the heart to do it, and neither did I think he would dare do anything to me so long as the Yankees are so thick about here.” A FRIEND IN GRAY. 875 — ‘‘There’s where you made the biggest kind of a mistake,’’ said the rebel, in a tone of dis- gust. ‘‘I don’t see why you were so easy on him when you know that he is doing all he can to pester you. My advice to you is to leave this very night.”’ “‘But where shall I go?” cried Marcy. ‘* And how do I know but they will take some sort of vengeance on my mother if they fail to find me?” ‘“‘ Beardsley won’t do the first thing to her, for mean as the Home Guards are, there’s some among ’em, and one of ’em is talking to you at this minute, who won’t by no means stand by and see him go as far as that. But if she should see them snake you out’n the house and tote you off to jail, don’t you reckon that would worry her? Your best plan is to light out while you can.” : “But you have not yet told me where to go,” Marcy reminded him. a Put straight to the swamp and find those Union men,” replied the rebel. There’s some of ’em there now.”? 376 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. ‘But I don’t know where to find them. The swamps along the coast cover a good deal of ground——’” ‘‘T know where to find ’em,’’ interrupted Hawkins. ‘Now, Ill tell you what to do: you go straight home, pack up any little things you want to take with you for comfort, and when night comes get into one of your boats and put straight down the bayou for Middle River. Look out fur yourself, fur it’s likely that the Yankees have posted sentries all along the river, and if they chuck you into the guard-house, there’s no telling when they will turn you loose. It might put you to some trouble to prove that you aint a Confederate spy. And when you get into Middle River t’other side of Plymouth, you will find a friend on the bank who will tell you what to do.” “Who will he be? What shall I call him?” asked Marcy. ‘He will be old man Webster, the father of that sailor who promised to stand by you through thick and thin, and then went off and listed. He’s home now, and as soon as I leave. you, I’ll ride straight down to his house and ETL a A FRIEND IN GRAY. 377 tell him what sort of ’rangement me and you have come to. Oh, I am all right with the Union men, even if I do wear a gray jacket ; and if they aint afraid to trust me you needn’t be.” “T am not afraid to trust you,” Marcy hastened to say. ‘‘ But I don’t like to leave mother. It looks cowardly.”’ “* You want her to have some peace of mind, don’t you?’? demanded Hawkins, almost angrily. ‘‘ Well, she’ll see a heap more of it if you will do as I tell you and clear yourself, than she will if you stay to home. As long as I am foot-loose, Pll make it my business to go to your house as often as any of the Home Guards go there, and the first one who don’t do jest right will have to answer to me fur it.” “IT thank you for the assurance,’’ began Marcy. “Taint got no time to hear you talk that a way,” exclaimed the rebel. ‘‘ What I want to know is whether you are going to foller my advice or not.” Marcy said very emphatically that he was. ‘Cause, if you don’t, you are liable to be 878 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. started on the road to jail before this time to- morrer,’’ added Hawkins. “Pll do just as you have told me, and there’s my hand on it,’ replied Marcy. “You will be sure to arrange matters so that Mr. Webster will meet me on the river?” The soldier assured him that he could be depended on to do as he had agreed, and after another lingering hand-shake they separated, Hawkins to carry out his part of the pro- gramme, and Marcy to take a budget of most unwelcome news to his mother. But she bore up under it better than he did. She declared. that her heart would be much lighter if she knew her son was in full possession of his liberty, even though he was compelled to hide in the swamp for the time being, than it would be if she were called upon to remember, every hour in the day, that he was shut up in jail, with a fair prospect before him of being forced into the Confederate army, and she urged him to carry out Hawkins’s instructions to the very letter. And in order to show him that she meant he should do that very thing, she began at once to pack his valise. When she left the | 7 1 qj , A FRIEND IN GRAY. 3879 room for a few minutes, Marcy, having become satisfied that Hawkins’s plan was the best, and in fact the only one that could be followed under the circumstances, seated himself at the desk, pulled out a sheet of foolscap paper, and began writing a short note upon it. While thus engaged his face wore a most determined expression, and when the note was finished he put it into his pocket. But he said nothing to his mother about it. The hours were a long time in dragging themselves away, but Marcy and his mother had many small details to arrange and many things to tall about, and only once was he out of her presence. That was when he made _ a trip to the creek, in company with Julius, to select the boat that was to take him down the river: He raised the black boy very high in his own estimation by making a confidant of him and promising to take him along as his servant, and in order to provide against the upsetting of his plan by some awkward blun- der on the part of Julius, he told him just what he was going to do when darkness came to conceal his movements, and how he in- 380 tended to do it. It was well for him that he went to so much trouble, as we shall presently see. When the afternoon was about half spent Hanson and his trunk made their appearance in one of Beardsley’s wagons, and Mrs. Gray and Marcy listened to his story in the kitchen—the only room about the house to which the man had ever been admitted. And the kitchen wasn’t in the house, but a short distance away from it, and under its own roof. The overseer made his statement to Mrs. Gray in much the same words that he had made it to'Marcy ; and when the lady made a mistake by saying that, after the experience he had MAROY, THE REFUGEE. already had with the Union men, she should - think he would be afraid to return te that plantation, the man answered in tones so inso- lent and savage that Marcy felt inclined to resent them on the spot. “Them villains toted me off onct, Miss Gray, but they won’t never do it again. I know who they were, I’ve got friends enough around me to hang every one of ’em, and I’m Srastincnicis A FRIEND IN GRAY. 3881 going to do it before I ever leave this place. You hear me?”’ Those were the words he used, but his manner seemed to say: ‘“‘I am on this planta- tion with the intention of remaining. I came for a purpose, and you dare not turn me off.” Marcy understood that. to be his meaning, and made up his mind that he and Hanson would have a settlement ina very few days. Mrs. Gray understood him, but she did not give expression to the fears that came upon her, for she knew that by so doing she would dishearten her son who, just then, needed all the encouragement she could give him. It began to grow dark about supper time, and Julius came slouching into the sitting. room as if he had no particular business there, but in reality to listen to the instructions that Marcy had promised to have ready for him at that time. “You will find the guns and things that you are to hide on the floor of my room,” said the boy. ‘‘ My revolvers, fowling-piece, and a good supply of ammunition are on my bed ; but you ™ er neo ae Marat Na ak : FEET Sa eae TORRE a 382 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. must not touch them. They are to go with us to the swamp. Be as sly as you can, for, if the Home Guards catch you at the work, they will give you something you never had yet—a striped shirt.”’ During the next hour Julius was in and out of the house several times, and on each occa- sion he took something away with him ; while Marcy and his mother sat side by side on the sofa trying, as Marcy put it, ‘‘ to do talking enough to last them during the separation that was soon to come.” At last Julius moved silently along the hall and appeared at the door of the sitting-room with a heavy valise in his hand, and a bundle of quilts and blankets thrown over his shoulder. “Dis all,”’ he whispered, in his short, jerky : way, ‘“‘an’ you best be gettin’ out’n dar. Good-by, missus. Julius gwine run now like ole Mose.” ‘You haven’t seen or heard anything sus- picious, have you?” ‘“‘Oh, hursh, honey,’’? was the reply. ‘‘If Julius hear sumfin, don’t you reckon he got sense ’nough to tell? You best be gettim LLL Te A FRIEND IN GRAY. 383 out’n dar ’fore dey come. Good-by, mis- sus.” ‘Qo ahead with those things, and I will be at the boat by the time you are,”’ said Marcy. Julius disappeared, but it was not so easy for his master to follow him as it was to tall about it. He found it hard to tear himself away, and lingered long over the parting—so long, in fact, that Julius grew tired of waiting for him. He placed the valise and blankets in the bow of the boat, made sure for the twen- tieth time that the little craft was ready for the start, and then sauntered back to the house to see why Marcy did not come. But he did not find the coast clear this time. Just as he was passing through the gate he heard a slight rustling in the bushes that lined the carriage- way on both sides. Without waiting a second to see what made the noise, the quick-witted darky took to his heels; but, before he had made half a dozen steps, a man stepped into the carriage-way in front of him and seized him by the arm. Julius looked up, and saw that he was in the grasp of Captain Beards- ley. 384 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “None of that, you little varmint,”’ said the captain. ‘‘ You stay here with me.” As he spoke he tightened his grasp and be- gan dragging his prisoner toward the conceal- ment from which he had just emerged ; where- upon the black boy set up a yell that could have been heard half a mile away. And what was more, he kept on yelling until Beardsley clapped his big hand over his mouth, and put a stop to the performance. Racer GMA es = - CHAPTER XVII. MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP. HE little darky was not very badly fright- ened on his own account—he never got that way unless he saw or heard something he could not understand—but he was overwhelmed with anxiety for Marcy Gray, who had not yet left the presence of his mother. Julius be- lieved that the dwelling had been surrounded by the Home Guards while he was stowing the valise and blankets in the boat, and if that proved to be the case, Marcy would in all probability start for Williamston jail instead of the swamp. The black boy thought of these things in an instant of time, and did what he could to upset the plans of the Home Guards by yelling at the top of his voice. “Keep still, you little fule,” said Beardsley, in an angry whisper. ‘‘ Nobody’s going to hurt you.” : 25 885 386 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. “‘ Aint, hey ?”’? exclaimed a second man, who at that moment came upon the scene. Snel hurt him to-morrow, I bet you; Tl have him brung into the field ; and he has heard me talk often enough to know what them words mean.” Just then Julius succeeded in freeing him- self from Beardsley’s grasp, and it was well for him that he did so, for the man had almost smothered him by holding his nose between his thumb and fore-finger at the same time that he covered his mouth with the rest of his hand. The negro gasped once or twice, and “then sank to the ground like a piece of wet rope. “All right. Let him lay there till he gets ready to get up,” said Captain Beardsley. ‘‘ Where’s the men? Where’s Shelby! Hs «The men started on a run for the house the minute that black villain yelled,’’ replied Hanson; for he was the one who came to Beardsley’s assistance. “ Shelby is round on the other side watching the back door, and he sent me to see what the fursing was about. Now I'll go back and tell him.” MAROY TAKES TO THE SWAMP, 387 ** And be sure that you and him keep out of sight when Marcy is brought out,”’ cautioned Beardsley. “You don’t want to let him get a sight at ary one of you, for there’s no telline when he will have the power on his own side ‘5 The overseer hastened away, trusting ore to the darkness than to the bushes in the yard to conceal him from Mrs. Gray’s view ‘aa Marey’s, should either of them chance to look ae at the window, and the captain moved a ew steps nearer to the carriage-way, so that h could look at‘the house through the branch : of an evergreen. When he first peeped ‘ the mont windows were all dark; but es ee lights began to appear ners: and ee a oe oer angry voices were Ne , and finally the front door and a man, carrying a lighted lamp i adres came out and walked the w rates bee Captain Beardsley was jue n uncomfortable, too. If the boy of hone ch Uae ae see was in the house he ought fe a ee iscovered before this time : and if scaped, where could he have 3 less it was to Plymouth or to the eee n 888 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. who were hidden in the swamp? If he had gone to either place Captain Beardsley knew it meant the loss of more buildings to him and Colonel Shelby. “ And if he’s went off it is bekase some trai- tor or nother in our company told him he’d better,” soliloquized Beardsley, when he saw the lights shining from the windows of the upper rooms. “ Julius, come here. I want to ask you something.” - The black boy had by this time recovered his breath and strength enough to sit up. He had all his wits about him, and was as much in- terested in what was going on in the house as Captain Beardsley himself. He saw the lights ascend from the lower rooms to those in the second story, and finally he saw them in the garret and in the observatory on the roof ; and when no shout of triumph, or any sound to indicate that there was a disturbance in the house, came to his ears to tell him that his master had been traced to his hiding-place and captured, the wild hope seized upon him that Marcy, in some mysterious manner, had succeeded in eluding the ‘Home Guards. If MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP. 889 that was the case he would of course make the best of his way to the boat; and if he got there before Julius did he would shove off alone, and Julius would be left behind to labor under the lash of the overseer. He thought he would rather die than do that but how could he escape from Beardsley ane reach the creek in time to meet Marcy there ? When he heard the captain calling to him Ae got upon his feet and approached the car- riage-way, just as Beardsley bent his head almost to the ground, to watch a light that was shining from one of the cellar windows He held that position for a moment, and fea aoe like that of a thousand Niagaras rang in his ears and all was. blank to him He sank limp and motionless to the eoand while Julius took to his heels and ainappeated through the gate. Half an hour later, when the Home Guards came out of the ioace with- out finding Marcy Gray or anything that could be used as evidence against him, they were as tounded and greatly alarmed to find Cartan Be y y = ar dsle ] ing unconsclous 1n the carria ge 890 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. And where was Marcy all this time? When the black boy’s first note of warning fell upon his ear he was imprinting a farewell kiss upon his mother’s lips and giving her a last embrace 5 but they fell apart instantly when they heard that wild cry, for they knew what it meant. “There they are!” gasped Mrs. Gray. ue Marcy, Tam afraid I have detained you too long.”’ “You have not kept me a moment,” said Marcy quickly, ‘‘for I was no more anxious to go than you were to have me. Keep them in the house as long as you can, and I will go into the cellar and try to slip through one of the windows into the garden. Poor Julius will be broken-hearted when he finds that I went without him. Once more good-by, and don’t expect to see me under a week.” Pressing as the need for haste was, Marcy snatched another farewell kiss and ran out of the room, taking care not to pass between a window and a lamp that stood on the centre- table. He caught his cap from the rack as he hurried through the hall, and in less time than it takes to tell it, was standing before an open JvLius Gives THE ALARM MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP. 891 cellar window, waiting and listening. His ears told him when the Home Guards charged upon the house and entered it through the back and side doors, and believing that the sentries, if there had been any posted outside, would be wholly engrossed with what was going on in the dwelling, he seized upon that particular moment to make his attempt at escape. Slowly and carefully he crawled up into the window, and when he raised his head above the ground all he could see were bushes and trees and a starlit sky, and all he could hear was the mur- mur of voices in thesitting-room. If the doors were guarded, as it was reasonable to suppose they were, this particular cellar window was not, and Marcy made haste to crawl out of it and across an intervening flower-bed to the friendly shelter of a thicket of bushes beyond. He did not linger there an instant, but taking it for granted that Ben Hawkins was with the Home Guards, and remembering that the man had promised to see that they behaved them- selves while they were in his mother’s house, he started at once for the creek, crawling on - his hands and knees until he was sure he had 392 passed beyond the sentries that he thought ought to have been left in the yard, and then he sprang up and ran likeadeer. He hardly knew when he reached the fence, over which he went as easily as though he had been furnished with wings, but he knew when he halted on the bank of the creek and caught Julius in the act of shoving off with the boat. Thinking only of Captain Beardsley and the overseer and his whip, the frightened black boy could not be prevailed upon to stop until he had pushed the boat to the middle of the stream, where he felt comparatively safe; and then he looked over his shoulder to see who his pursuer was. “Why, honey!” he exclaimed, as he got out the oars and backed the boat toward the place where Marcy was standing. ‘‘ Was dat you? What you doin’ hyar? How come dey don’t cotch you in de house?” ‘Come here quick, and take me on board,” replied Marcy ; and he continued, as he stepped into the stern of the boat and picked up the paddle he had provided for a steering oar: MARCY, THE REFUGEE. ‘‘ What do you mean by trying to desert me 2 LS a ey a ee a aT eA TE aia: MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP. 393 in this fashion; and was that you yelling a while ago?”’ ‘‘Yes sar, Marse Mahcy, it was Julius done dat yellin’, an’ I done it kase I aint want Cap’n Beardsley to cotch you in de house,’’ answered the boy, as he laid out his strength on the oars, and sent the boat swiftly away from the bank. ‘“Are you sure that Beardsley was with those men?” asked Marcy earnestly. “Think twice before you speak, or you may be the means of making me do something that I shall be sorry for as long as I live.”’ ‘Julius don’t need to think no two times *fore he answer dat question. De cap’n was _ dar, an’ so was de oberseer. I know, kase de cap’n squoze my arm till it blacker’n my skin. An’ de oberseer ’low to take me to de field in de mawnin’.”’ “If Beardsley had you by the arm how did you manage to get away from him?’ said Marcy, who had good reason for wishing to be sure of his ground. “Well, sar, moster, I buck him ; dat’s de way I got loose from de cap’n. He scrooch 894 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. down dis a way, so he kin look in de suller,”’ said Julius, bending forward until his back was nearly on a level with the gunwales of the beat, ‘‘an’ I whack him behine de ear, an’ he drap so quick he don’t know what hit him. Dat’s de troof, sure’s you born.” Marcy did not doubt it, for if Beardsley had been foolish enough to place himself in that position while Julius was within reach of him, the black boy could have knocked him sense- less without any trouble at all. He was the acknowledged champion ‘‘bucker’’ of the neighborhood, and had been known to do such things. The most pugnacious among the little darkies would scream out in terror, and seek safety in flight, if Julius raised one foot from the ground and hopped toward him on the other with his head lowered threateningly, and there was not one among them with a head hard enough to stand against him for a mo- ment if Julius succeeded in catching him by the ears. He could double up the strongest negro on the plantation by butting him in the pit of the stomach, and he would do it if one of them incurred his displeasure, even though MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP. 895 he had to wait a month to find his opportu- nity. And he told nothing but the truth when he said that he had knocked Captain Beards- ley down in that way. Allhe wanted now was a chance at the overseer. He knew that Mrs. Gray and Marcy did not want him on the place, and consequently Julius did not think he would be punished for butting him ‘good fashion.”’ “Did Beardsley or Hanson say anything about me?” was Marcy’s next question. “All I heard de cap’n say was dat de ober- seer an’ Shelby want to watch out dat you don’t see ’em when you come out’n de house,” replied Julius. ‘‘ Dey don’t want you to know dey was dar.’’ Julius gave way strong on the oars and Marcy steered the boat, listened for sounds of pursuit, and thought over the situation. He made up his mind to one thing before he had left the house fairly out of sight, and that was that Captain Beardsley and Colonel Shelby would be sorry that they had had anything to do with the Home Guards. His patience was all gone now, and every move they made 896 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. should be met by a counter-movement on his own part. He thought he knew the name of every man in the company, and he would take pains to see that the Federal com- mander at Plymouth knew them also and where they lived; and while he was wait- ing for the Yankees to do something he would do something himself, beginning that very night. Having at last satisfied himself that the Home Guards were not pursuing him, Marcy dismissed them from his mind for the present, his actions indicating that he was looking for some object he expected to find in the creek in advance of him. He was searching for Beardsley’s schooner, and was so long in find- ing it that he began to fear her owner had stolen a march upon him by towing her from the creek to a safer hiding-place. But the captain evidently thought she could not be in any safer berth than the one she had always occupied in the creek in front of his house, for there was where Marcy found her, as he was on the point of giving up the search and telling Julius to pull for Middle River the best he q | ql 4 4 aie i renrRS t SaaS 3 oa ests, ii MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP. 397 knew how, for there was a man waiting for them there. “Tt seems a pity to destroy a fine vessel like this,” said Marcy, as Julius caught the fore chains and allowed the current to swing the boat broadside to the Hattie. ‘Well, den, what for dat rebel burn all dem fine ships out on de watah like Marse Jack tell about?’’? demanded Julius. ‘‘An’ what for de cap’n brung all dem Home Gyards to de house to cotch you an’ tote you off to jail?”’ With all Beardsley’s persecutions so fresh in his mind, Marcy Gray did not stand upon the order of going to work but went at once. Be- fore Julius ceased speaking he was over the schooner’s rail, with a bag of “‘fat’’ wood in one hand and an axe in the other. The hatches were fastened down of course, and the door that gave entrance to the cabin was locked; but the latter yielded to a single heavy blow with the axe, and Marcy went in and emptied his bag of kindling wood upon the floor. Then he piled upon it everything he found in the cabin that he could move, in- cluding the slats in the bunks, the tables and 398 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. chairs, and the doors that he could tear from their hinges. Over all he poured a couple of quarts of oil from bottles that he had brought with him for the purpose, and set fire to it in three or four different places. He waited until he saw the work of destruction fairly begun, and then ran on deck and dropped into. the boat. “‘ Now set me ashore at the foot of that pop- lar to which the breast-line is made fast,”’ said he. ‘I want Beardsley to know who did this work, and why it was done. But of course he -knows without any telling.” ‘‘ Hi yi, Marse Mahcy, she gwine go waht up in de elemunts!”’ cried Julius, as a cloud of smoke, which was brightly illumined by the fire that was blazing beneath, came pouring out of the cabin-door. “T think I made a sure thing of it,” an swered Marcy. ‘Of course she will burn readily, for everything in the cabin is covered with paint or varnish. We can’t get away from here any too quick. Hurry up.” It did not take Julius more than two min- utes to row around the stern of the schooner MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP. 399 to the tree to which the breast-line was fast- ened, nor did it take Marcy longer than that to spring ashore and place upon a neighboring tree, in a conspicuous position where it would be sure to catch the eye of the first man who passed that way, the note which he had writ- ten that afternoon while his mother was pack- ing his valise. It was addressed to Captain Beardsley, and ran as follows : This is to pay you for the share you had in bringing Han- son back to our plantation, and in organizing the Home Guards to take me to Williamston Jail. This is the first payment on a big debt I owe you and Colonel Shelby. If you do not wish any more like it take Hanson away from our place at once and keep him away ; and furthermore, keep everybody else away from there. You are on a false scent, and so long as you fol- low it, so long will you continue to lose property. There is no large sum of money in or around the house. When you be- come satisfied of that fact perhaps you will cease troubling my mother. Placing this note on the side of the tree oppo- site the fire so that it would not be scorched by the heat, and fastening it there with three or four wooden pins so that the wind would not blow it away, Marcy ran back to the boat, and Julius once more pushed out into the stream He turned to look behind him every few ma 400 MARCY, THE REFUGEE. utes, but the boat was pulled into Middle River, and perhaps two or three miles down its swift current toward the coast, before he saw any signs of the fire he had left behind ; and at the moment his eye caught its first faint re- flection on the clouds, he heard a cautious hail in tones that were just loud enough to attract his attention. “Who is it up the loaded gun that lay besi ‘ stern-sheets. ‘‘ Way enough, Julius.” “‘Mebbe dat aint de man you want see,” replied the boy, handling the oars as if he meant to turn the boat toward the opposite bank. “J am Aleck Webster’s father,” said the yoice, in answer to Marcy’s question. © “ Ben Hawkins sent me here to show you the way to our camp.” «When did you see Hawkins 2? demanded Marcy, picking de him in the q” inquired Marcy. “This afternoon; and he told me that the Home Guards were likely to drive you away MAROY TAKES TO THE SWAMP 401 from home to-nigh - t. ; i eee g It’s all right, Mister The latter was so sure of it that he oe the boat toward the point aa ee (the night was so dark that i So ae see ee but bushes and trees ie x), and in two minutes t more w: aa ae Mr. Webster’s side. The Be ee : n e oe ee spot on the clouds and ae e that Marcy recogni i 2 gnized this time : 2 ne the Home Guards out to-night ra yes; they’re out, and came t ae eS s house, or I shouldn’t be her ae u ey didn’t set i Ce Sea anything on fire so far ag “Then whose i : work is th thing burning off that way i ee “Tt ; 5 : ee - oS pL of Marcy, the Refugee : : persecutin aoe & me for pe he could think of, fae ae me from home at last, and I set te Schooner to pay him for it.’? ps ‘ IE ; aes a peeks myself,’ replied Mr er, nd there’s my hand i , Which says that I will stand i i : nd your friend as long as you a en rey baer nial asa EIT SO oasis AR aE =] 402 MAROY, THE REFUGEE. 5 Q MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP. 4038 when he sees that preparations are being made need one. If the Home Guards had been or- to compel him to go back to the army. Didn’t ganized a few weeks sooner Aleck would not have left us old men and boys to fight our bat- tles alone. But he had an idea that the pres- ence of the Yankees on the coast would serve you see him with the Home Guards to-night ?”’ Marcy replied that he did not see anybody, for he ran before the Home Guards came into the house. If Hawkins was with them, as he as a protection to us; and there’s where he was wrong. If we don’t do something at once, they will follow us into the swamp and kill or capture the last oneofus. That fight in Hamp- ton Roads put life and energy into them.” ' _ “T don’t see why it should. They got the f worst of it.” ; “© Are you sure?” exclaimed- Mr. Webster. ‘“ : ank and F i Julius. 3 Sam’s Chance. The Young Sc earless. The Young Outlaw. The Telegraph Boy. GOOD FORTUNE LIBRARY. 3 vols. By Horatio ALGER, JR. $3.00 Walter Sherwood’s Probation. A Boy’s Fortune. The Young Bank Messenger, CAMPAIGN SERIES. 3 vols. By Horatio ALGER, JR. $3.00 ~ Frank’s Campaign. Charlie Codman’s Cruise. Paul Prescott’s Charge. RUPERT’S AMBITION. LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES—First Series. } I vol. By Horatio ALGER, JR. fi1.00 4 vols. By Horatio ALGER, JR. $4.00 Luck and Pluck. : Strong and Steady. JED 2 Sink or Swim. Strive and Succeed. ED, THE POOR-HOUSE BOY. : I vol. By HOoRATIO ALGER, JR. $1.00 SEE 4 HENRY T, COATES & CO.’S POPULAR JUVENILES. HARRY CASTLEMON. HOW I CAME TO WRITE MY FIRST BOOK. WHEN I was sixteen years old I belonged to a composi- tion class. It was our custom to go on the recitation seat every day with clean slates, and we were allowed ten mih- utes to write seventy words on any subject the teacher thought suited to our capacity. One day he gave ont ‘What a Man Would See if He Went to Greenland.” My heart was in the matter, and before the ten minutes were up I had one side of my slate filled. The teacher listened to the reading of our compositions, and when they were all over he siinply said: “Some of you will make your living by writing one of these days.’? That gave me something to ponder upon. I did not say so out loud, but I knew that my composition was as good as the best of them. By the way, there was another thing that came in my way just then. I was read- ing at that time one of Mayne Reid’s works which I had drawn from the library, and I pondered upon it as much as I did upon what the teacher said to me. In introducing Swartboy to his readers he made use of this expression : “No visible change was observable in Swartboy’s counte- nance.’’ Now, it occurred to me that if a man of his educa- tion could make such a blunder as that and still write a book, I ought to be able to do it, too. I went home that very day and began a story, ‘“he Old Guide’s Narrative,” which was sent to the New York Weekly, and came back, respect- fully declined. It was written on both sides of the sheets but I didn’t know that this was against the rules. Nothing abashed, I began another, and receiving some instruction, from a friend of mine who was aclerk in a book store, I wrote it on only one side of the paper. But mind you, he didn’t know what I was doing. Nobody knew it; but one Seale ala Renae a SOIL, HENRY T. COATES & CO.’S POPULAR JUVENILES, 5 day, after a hard Saturday’s work—the other boys had been out skating on the brick-pond—I shyly broached the subject to my mother.. I felt the need of some sympathy. She listened in amazement, and then said : “Why, do you think you could write a book like that?’ That settled the matter, and from that day no one knew what I was up to until I sent the first four volumes of Gunboat Series to my father. Was it work? Well, yes; it was hard work, but each week I had the satisfaction of seeing the manuscript grow until the “Young Naturalist’ was all complete. —Harry Castlemon in the Writer. GUNBOAT SERIES. 6 vols. By Harry CastiEmon, $6.00 Frank the Young Naturalist. © Frank before Vicksburg, Frank on a Gunboat. Frank on the Lower Mississippi. Frank in the Woods. Frank on the Prairie. Be ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry CastiEMon, $3.00 Frank Among the Rancheros. Frank in the Mountains, Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho. SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry CastLEMon, The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle. The Sportsman’s Club Afloat. $3.75 The Sportsman’s Club Among the Trappers, FRANK NELSON SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry CastLEMon. +7) Snowed up. ae Frank in the Forecastle. The Boy Traders, BOY TRAPPER SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry CastiEMon, ; $3.00 The Buried Treasure. The Boy Trapper. The Mail Carrier. a 6 HENRY 7. COATES & CO.’S POPULAR JUVENILES. ROUGHING ITF SERIES. 3 vols, By Harry CastLEMon, $3.00 George in Camp. George at the Fort. George at the Wheel. ROD AND GUN SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry CASTLEMON. $3.00 Don Gordon’s Shooting Box. The Young Wild Fowlers. Rod and Gun Club. GO-AHEAD SERIES. 3 vols, By Harry CasTLEMON. | $3.00 Tom Newcombe. Go-Ahead, No Moss. WAR SERIES. 6 vols. By Harry CAstLEMON. $6.00 True to His Colors. Rodney the Partisan. Rodney the Overseer, Marcy the Blockade-Runner. Marcy the Refugee. Sailor Jack the Trader. HOUSEBOAT SERIES. 3 vols. By Harry CAsTLEMON. $3.00 The Houseboat Boys. The Mystery of Lost River Cafion. The Young Game Warden. AFLOAT AND ASHORE SERIES. 3 vols, By Harry CastTLEMON. $3.00 Rebellion in Dixie. A Sailor in Spite of Himself. The Ten-Ton Cutter. THE PONY EXPRESS SERIES. 3 vol. By Harry CasTLEMON. $3.00 The Pony Express Rider, The White Beaver Carl, The Trailer. Sie es HENRY TI. COATES & CO.’S POPULAR JUVENILES. 7 EDWARD S. ELLIS. Epwarp §. EL1is, the popular writer of boys’ books, is a native of Ohio, where he was born somewhat more than a half-century ago. His father was a famous hunter and rifle shot, and it was doubtless his exploits and those of his asso- ciates, with their tales of adventure which gave the son his! taste for the breezy backwoods and for depicting the stirring life of the early settlers on the frontier. Mr. Ellis began writing at an early ageand his work was acceptable from the first. His parents removed to New Jersey while he was a boy and he was graduated from the State Normal School and became a member of the faculty while still in his teens. He was afterward principal of the Trenton High School, a trustee and then superintendent of schools. By that time his services as a writer had become so pronounced that he gave his entire attention to literature. He was an exceptionally successful teacher and wrote a num- ber of text-books for schools, all of which met with high favor. For these and his historical productions, Princeton College conferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts. The high moral character, the clean, manly tendencies and the admirable literary style of Mr. Ellis’ stories have made him as popular on the other side of the Atlantic as in this country. A leading paper remarked some time since, that no mother need hesitate to place in the hands of her boy any book written by Mr. Ellis. ‘They are found in the lead- ing Sunday-school libraries, where, as may well be believed, they are in wide demand and do much good by their sound, wholesome lessons which render them as acceptable to parents as to their children. All of his books published by Henry T. Coates & Co. are re-issued in London, and many have been translated into other languages. Mr, Ellis is a writer of varied accomplishments, and, in addition to his stories, is the author of historical works, of a number of pieces of pop- epic is 8 HENRY T. COATES & CO.’s POPULAR JUVENILES. ular music and has made several valuable inventions, Mr Ellis is in the prime of his mental and physical powers i great as have been the merits of hi , is reason to look for more brillian in the near future, and S past achievements, there t productions from his pen DEERFOOT SERIES. 3 vols. By Epwarp S. Exzis. $3.00 Hunters of the Ozark. The Last War Trail. Camp in the Mountains, : : LOG CABIN SERIES. 3 vols. By Epwarp S. Eqs $ é : 3.00 Lost Trail. : Footprints in the Forest, Camp-Fire and Wigwam. ; BOY PIONEER SERIES. 3 vols. By Epwarp S. EL.is. .00 Ned in the Block-House. Ned on the River. x ; Ned in the Woods. THE NORTHWEST SERIES. 3 vols. : By Epwarp §S. E.is. $3.00 Two Boys in Wyoming. Cowmen and Rustlers, A Strange Craft and its Wonderful Voyage. BOONE AND KENTON SERIES. 3 vols. By Epwarp S. Erzis. $3.00 Shod with Silence, In the Days of the Pioneers, Phantom of the River. IRON HEART, WAR CHIER OF THE IROQUOIS. I vol. By Epwarp §, Exzis. $1.00 THE SECRET OF COFFIN ISLAND, I vol, By Epwarp §. Eqs. $1.00 THE BLAZING ARROW. I vol, By Epwarp §S. Exzis. $1.00 HENRY T, COATES & CO.’S POPULAR JUVENILES 9 J. T. TROWBRIDGE. NEITHER as a writer does he stand apart from the great - " eurrents of life and select some exceptional phase or odd combination of circumstances. He stands on the common level and appeals to the universal heart, and all that he sug- gests or acHieves is on the plane and in the line of march of the great body of humanity. ‘The Jack Hazard series of stories, published in the late Our Young Folks, and continued in the first volume of S#. Nicholas, under the title of ‘‘Fast Friends,’’ is no doubt destined to hold a high place in this class of literature. The delight of the boys in them (and of their seniors, too) is well founded. They go to the right spot every time. Trow- bridge knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heart of a man, too, and he has laid them both open in these books in a most successful manner. Apart from the qualities that render the series so attractive to all young readers, they have great value on account of their portraitures of American country life and character. The drawing is wonderfully accurate, and as spirited as it is true. The constable, Sel- lick, is an original character, and as minor figures where will we find anything better than Miss Wansey, and Mr. P. Pip- kin, Esq. The picture of Mr. Dink’s school, too, is capital, and where else in fiction is there a better nick-name than that the boys gave to poor little Stephen Treadwell, ‘‘ Step Hen,”’ as he himself pronounced his name in an unfortunate moment when he saw it in print for the first time in his les- son in school, On the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and afford the critical reader the rare pleasure of the works that are just adequate, that easily fulfill themselves and accom- plish all they set out to do,—Scribuer’s Monthly. ade Rat Sc a Io HENRY T. COATES & CO,’S POPULAR JUVENILES. JACK HAZARD SERIES. = 6 vols. By J. T. Trowgrr Gr, $7.25 jack Hazard and His Fortunes, Doing His Best. he Young Surveyor. A Chance for Himself, Fast reais Lawrence’s Adventures. ROUNDABOUT LIBRARY. For Boys and Girls, (97 Volumes.) 75c. per Volume, The attention of Librarians and Bookbuyers generally is called to Henry T. Coates & Co.’s Rounpazour Lisrary, by the popular authors, EDWARD S. ELLIS, MARGARET VANDEGRIFT, HORATIO ALGER, JR., HARRY CASTLEMON, Cc. A. STEPHENS, G. A. HENTY, LUCY C. LILLIE and others. No authors of the present day are greater favorites with boys and girls. Every book is sure to meet with a hearty reception by young readers. Librarians will find them to be amon: books on their lists. Complete lists and net prices Surnished on application. g the most popular HENRY T. COATES & CO. $222 CHESTNUT STREET PHILADELPHIA : \ SSE Ea ae a a aan gna RI RIE AN I cael Ot a cng ge SM A