Marcy The Blockade Runner Part 30

"Oh, yes, sir; we'll get along all right," answered Marcy, who was very much afraid that the officer would ask him how he had got hurt. "Seen anything of that blockade-runner since we left?"

"I haven't seen a thing except this schooner to-night," was the reply; and Marcy judged from the tone in which the words were uttered that the officer was much disgusted at being obliged to stay out there all night in an open boat for nothing. No doubt he would have been still more disgusted to learn that if he had been two miles farther up the coast he would have had a chance of capturing the "audacious" little vessel that he was looking for.

The officer wasted no words in leave-taking, but went at once, and Marcy Gray felt more gloomy than ever when he found himself alone on the ocean with n.o.body but the boy Julius for a companion. He sent the latter to the wheel and went forward to act as lookout and pilot, intending to follow Captain Beardsley's example and run through Crooked Inlet under full sail. He thought he could remember about where the buoys had been placed, and besides he had the flood tide to help him. If he succeeded, he would run across the Sound and hunt up some little bay in which he could go into hiding until such time as he thought it safe to come out and start for home.

This programme was duly carried out, and the good luck that had thus far attended him stayed with him to the end. He piloted the schooner through the Inlet without the least trouble, ran across the Sound without being seen by anybody, and put into the mouth of a little bayou, where he tied up and turned in for a much needed rest. He remained there all that day and the ensuing night, and at sunrise on the following morning ran Sailor Jack's Confederate flag up to the _Fairy Belle's_ peak, and stood boldly out for Roanoke Island.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CONCLUSION.

As soon as the schooner was straightened on her course so that Marcy could manage her with one hand, he came aft and took the wheel.

"Go below and hide that Union flag," said he. "These rebels may not be as easily satisfied this time as they were when we went down, and if they send a boat aboard of us I don't want them to find anything. I don't care to know where you put the flag. All you have to do is to hide it where we can find it again when we want it."

Julius was gone not more than five minutes, and when he returned to take the wheel Marcy walked forward, carrying in his hand one of the Newbern papers which he had folded and twisted, newsboy fas.h.i.+on, so that it could be thrown a considerable distance.

The first thing that attracted his attention, after the _Fairy Belle_ pa.s.sed the foot of the island, was a steamer, whose crew were busy adding to the obstructions that had already been placed in Croatan Sound. But there was a wide clear s.p.a.ce close under the guns of Fort Bartow, and into this Julius held his way, pa.s.sing so near the steamer that Marcy was able to throw his paper among the crew.

"Newbern," he shouted to the Confederate officer, who flicked up the paper and waved his thanks. "It isn't a very late one, but it was the best I could do."

That blockade had been run in safety, but when they reached the head of the island Marcy found himself menaced by another danger which he was afraid could not be so easily pa.s.sed. One of Commodore Lynch's gunboats was lying there, and when she saw the schooner approaching, she sent one of her boats off to intercept her. Marcy's hair began to stand on end.

"What have you done with that Union flag, Julius?" he asked.

"Now, jes' listen at you," replied the boy. "What for you want dat flag now? It hang you, suah."

"I only wished to be a.s.sured that you had it safe," said Marcy, as he ran into the cabin to bring up another paper; and when he returned with it, he shook it at the men in the boat and beckoned them to come alongside, Just as if he didn't know that that was what they intended to do. As the small boat came nearer and began to swing broadside to the schooner, Marcy raised his hand and Julius spilled the sails.

"You needn't stop," said the young master's mate, who sat in the stern-sheets. "Throw us a line and we'll tow alongside. Our old man had a little curiosity to know who you are, where you have been, and where you belong. Thanks for the paper. What's the news?"

"I didn't get any," replied Marcy. "I saw one Yankee cruiser riding at anchor off the coast, and also saw one blockade-runner come in. What sort of a cargo she brought I don't know, for I didn't exchange a word with any of her crew."

"What's the matter with your hand?" inquired the master's mate.

"De Yankees done guv him dat hand, sar," said Julius promptly. "Dey done knock him 'mos dead wid a sh.e.l.l."

"The Yankees!" exclaimed the young rebel. "Are you in the service?"

"I was running the blockade when I was hurt," answered Marcy. "But I wasn't hit by a sh.e.l.l. I was knocked down by a heavy splinter."

"Pa.s.s us down your other flipper," said the officer, standing up in his boat and extending his hand. "I am glad to meet you. When you get the use of your arm again come aboard of us. We need men, and I know the captain will be glad to take you."

"He got one brother in de navy now," added Julius, who thought that Marcy wasn't trying half hard enough to make the boat's crew believe that he was loyal to the flag that waved above him.

"Is that so? Then if he comes in himself that will make two, won't it?

Well, I will detain you no longer. Come aboard of us if you can, for we think we are going to see fun here in the course of a few weeks. Good-by till I see you again. Shove off, for'ard."

"Julius, I am afraid you talk too much," said Marcy, when the boat was left out of hearing. "If you don't keep still you may get me into trouble."

"Look a yere, Ma.r.s.e Marcy," said Julius, "Ma.r.s.e Jack done tol' me it plum time for me to stan' by to tell what's de troof, an' I ain't done nuffin else sence he tol' me dat. De Yankees did guv you dat hand, you done got one brother in de navy, an' dat's all I tol' dat rebel. I didn't say you a rebel you'self, kase dat would be a plum lie; an' all de black ones knows it."

At the end of two hours a bend in the sh.o.r.e hid the island and Commodore Lynch's gunboat from view, and as night was drawing on apace, Marcy began looking around for a suitable spot in which to tie up for the night. He knew better than to try to pa.s.s Plymouth after dark. The countersign would be out, and not only would he be obliged to go ash.o.r.e to get it, but he would also be compelled to land to _give_ it to every sentry on the bank. That would be a good deal of trouble and might prove to be dangerous as well. It would give the soldiers off duty a chance to board the schooner, and that was something Marcy did not want them to do. They would go all over her, peeping into every locker and corner, steal everything they could get into their pockets or put under their coats, and one of them might accidentally find that Union flag. For these reasons Marcy thought it best to lie by for the night.

"It will bring us home in broad daylight, Julius, and some of the servants will be sure to see you when you leave the schooner to take me ash.o.r.e," said he. "So the story you made up to tell them about running away to the swamp, will have to be changed to something else. It would have to be changed any way, for of course Captain Beardsley saw you when he ran by us at the mouth of the inlet."

"I been thinkin' 'bout dat," answered Julius, "an' I going to tell nuffin but de troof. Dat's de bes'. I was stowed away on de schooner, an' you nevah knowed it till you come off in de mawnin' an' cotch me."

Marcy said nothing more, for he did not believe that either of them could tell a story that would save them from the trouble that Captain Beardsley would surely try to bring upon himself and his mother. He would take Jack's advice and lose no time in seeking an interview with Aleck Webster.

Marcy easily found a hiding-place for the night, and bright and early the next morning set out to run the last of the blockade--the garrison at Plymouth. This was accomplished without any trouble at all, the depth of the water permitting Julius to hold so close in that Marcy could throw his last Newbern paper ash.o.r.e. The soldiers scrambled for it as if it had been a piece of gold, and shouted for him to send off some more; but Marcy could truthfully say that he had no more, the garrison at Roanoke Island having got the others. The Northern papers were too precious to be given to rebels. Those were to be saved for his mother.

In due time the _Fairy Belle_ reached the mouth of Seven Mile Creek, the sails were hauled down, and Julius, with such slim aid as Marcy could give him with one hand, began the work of towing her to her moorings. It took them two hours to do this. When Marcy had seen her made fast to her buoy he did not get out of the skiff, but sent Julius aboard the schooner with instructions to put both the flags and the Northern papers into his valise and hand it over the side. To his great surprise there was not even a pickaninny on the bank to say, "Howdy, Ma.r.s.e Marcy?" and he usually found them out in full force whenever he returned from his sailing trips. Presently Julius got into the skiff to row him ash.o.r.e, and followed him to the house carrying the valise in his hand; but even when they pa.s.sed through the gate they did not see a person about the premises, nor a dog, neither. Bose seemed to have "holed up" the same as the rest. The doors and windows were wide open, but where were the house servants that they were not singing at their work? Marcy did not know what to make of it, and Julius gave it as his opinion that something done been going wrong on the plantation.

"I believe you and Jack, between you, have frightened everybody off the place," declared Marcy, little dreaming how near he came to the truth when he said it. "But we'll soon know all about it, for here's mother."

He ran lightly up the steps to greet her as she appeared at the door, but stopped short when he reached the gallery, for he saw that his mother was as solemn as her surroundings. She tried to call a cheerful smile to her face, but the effort was a sad failure.

"What in the world is the matter here?" demanded Marcy, as soon as he could speak. "Have the hands all run away? Where is everybody? Why is the place so quiet?"

"Oh, Marcy!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, motioning to Julius to take the valise into the house, "such a strange thing has happened since you went away.

Hanson has disappeared as completely as though he had never been on the place at all."

"Good enough," cried Marcy, giving his mother a bear-like hug with his one strong arm. "Now we shall be free from his--eh? You don't mean to say you are sorry he has gone, do you?"

"I don't know whether I am or not," was the astounding reply. "If he had left of his own free will I should be glad, I a.s.sure you; but the manner of his going frightens me."

"The manner?" repeated Marcy, who was all in the dark.

"Yes. The night after you went away, some of the field hands were awakened by an unusual noise and went to the door of their cabins to see a party of fifteen or twenty masked men making off, with Hanson bound and gagged in the midst of them. They were so badly frightened that--Marcy," exclaimed Mrs. Gray, holding the boy off at arm's length and looking searchingly into his face, "do you know anything about it?

Is Jack at the bottom of this strange affair?"

These last words were called forth by the exclamation of surprise and delight that Marcy uttered when the truth of the whole matter flashed suddenly upon him. The absent Jack had told him that the morning was coming when his mother would not hear the field hands called to work because there would be no one to call them, and his prediction had been verified. Aleck Webster was true blue, the Union men who held secret meetings in the swamp could be depended on to hold their rebel neighbors in check, and Marcy Gray could hardly refrain from dancing with delight at the thought of it.

"Come in and I will tell you all I know about it," said he, throwing his arm about his mother's waist and leading her into the hall. "You needn't worry. Every one of the men who came here that night were your friends and mine, and they----"

"But who were they?" asked Mrs. Gray.

"It is probable that one of them sailed with Jack when he was on the _West Wind;_ but who the others were I don't know, and it isn't at all likely that I shall ever find out," replied Marcy. "Not in the dining-room, please, because there's a stove-pipe hole in the ceiling that leads into a room upstairs. Oh, it's a fact," he added with a laugh, when his mother stopped and looked at him. "A certain person, whose name I shall presently give you, listened at that pipe-hole time and again, and took messages straight to Hanson. But you'll not blame him when you hear my story. Let's go into the back parlor. By the way, did you find your breastpin?"

His mother said in reply, that she had neither seen nor heard of it since the day it was stolen.

"Well I've got it safe and sound," continued Marcy; and then he settled back in his chair and repeated, almost word for word, the story sailor Jack had told him the night before he left for the blockading fleet. He told how Julius had taken the pin in the first place, how the overseer had worked upon his fears to compel him to give it up, and how he had used the power which the possession of the stolen pin enabled him to exercise over the timid black boy. Then he described how sailor Jack and his "Enchanted Goblet" appeared upon the scene; and from that he glided into the history of Jack's acquaintance with Aleck Webster, and the interviews he had held with him at the post-office. But there were two things he did not touch upon--the meeting with Captain Beardsley at Crooked Inlet, and sailor Jack's fears that the Confederate authorities might interest themselves in the matter if they learned, through any of her "secret enemies," that Mrs. Gray kept money concealed in the house.

His mother was profoundly astonished, and when Marcy finished his story she did not know whether to be glad or frightened. The boy thought, from the expression of her countenance, that he had added to her fears.

"You don't act as if you were pleased a bit," said he dolefully. "Are you not glad to know that I can stay at home now? Beardsley has got to quit business, and of course he can't make any more excuses to take me away from you. He never did need a pilot, the old rascal. When he reads the warning letter that is waiting for him in Newbern, he'll fill away for home without the loss of a moment."