Brave Old Salt Part 29

"G.o.d bless him!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Somers, fervently, in much the same spirit that a loyal subject speaks of a popular monarch.

"Ay, G.o.d bless him!" replied the first lieutenant. "He is the ablest naval commander the world has yet produced. In my opinion he is the superior of Nelson, Collingwood, Decatur, Porter, Preble, and Hull. By the way, Mr. Somers, you were with him on the Mississippi?"

"Yes, sir; I was in the Harrisburg when the fleet pa.s.sed Forts Jackson and St. Philip. But I am rather sorry the attack is to take place so soon."

"Why so?"

Then Somers showed him Pillgrim's letter; but as we intend to tell only what was done, not what was said, we will not record the conversation.

CHAPTER XVIII.

BRAVE OLD SALT.

The most extensive and careful preparations were in progress for the events which, a few days later, astonished the world even more than the splendid achievements of the fleet below New Orleans. The squadron off the mouth of Mobile Bay had been actively employed for several days in sending down top-masts, superfluous spars, and rigging. Chain cables had been extended over the sides of the ships where the machinery was exposed to injury from the shot and sh.e.l.l of the fort. Chains and sand bags were placed on the decks where plunging shot might disable the engines. Boats were removed from the starboard to the port sides, for the fleet was to go in with Fort Morgan on the right, and close aboard of them.

The preparations were advancing when Somers reported on board of the Chatauqua, and of course he at once experienced the inspiration of coming events. If there was any man in the navy whom he admired and reverenced, that man was Admiral Farragut. It is true, he was not singular in this respect, for every man in the fleet was equally devoted to him. The "Old Salamander," who seemed never to be happier than when in the midst of the hottest fire which the engines of modern warfare could produce, was the idol of both officers and seamen. He was an honest, just, and humane man, one who involuntarily won the respect of every person with whom he came into contact.

We were never more thoroughly impressed by the honesty, justice, and humanity of a man, than when we took the hand of this "Brave Old Salt."

His expressive eye, and his gentle, but dignified bearing, spoke more truly and forcibly of what he was, than the most elaborate biography which the pen of genius could produce. It almost pa.s.ses belief that men can stand up and work and fight as officers and seamen worked and fought between Forts Jackson and St. Philip, and at Mobile Bay; but we can think of no better inspiration than the leadership of such a man as Admiral Farragut.

He was born in Tennessee--a southern state; his home was in Virginia--a southern state--at the breaking out of the rebellion. With all the motives which actuated Lee and Johnston, Tatnall and Hollins, to induce him to abandon the old flag under which he had fought in early youth, and served through all his manhood, he remained true to his country in the hour of her severest trial. Neither bribes nor threats could move him, and not for one instant did he falter in his devotion to the flag he had sworn to sustain against all foes. Glory, honor, and immortality in the hearts of his countrymen to the n.o.ble Admiral!

As a naval commander, he has no rival in the past or the present, in this or in any country. He has achieved, once, twice, thrice, what any board of naval officers that could have been convened from the boldest and most skilful naval heroes of the united nations, would have solemnly p.r.o.nounced impossible. Chance might have given him the Lower Mississippi--it did not; but it could not have given him that and Mobile Bay, and the brilliant exploits up the Great River. Chance is capricious; it never metes out uniform success.

Admiral Farragut is not simply a brave and skilful seaman, for the stroke of genius shines out in all his battle plans, in all his preparations, and in all his movements, whether on the silent river, as his majestic ship leads in the van to the conflict, or under the most deadly and destructive fire that ever was rained down on a wooden hull.

"Brave Old Salt" in the main rigging of the Hartford, as she breasted the storm of shot and sh.e.l.l from Fort Morgan, is a spectacle more sublime than can be presented in the annals of any other nation. The position he chose for himself on that momentous occasion, more truly indicates the key to his marvellous success than any other fact in connection with the battle. He was not there to expose himself needlessly to deadly peril; he was there to see and take advantage of the issues of the battle.

His position was a symbol of the intelligence and bravery which won the great battle. He saw with his own eyes--not with others; while his glorious personal devotion was a type for every other man, which was imitated from commodores down to powder-boys. We read of a general who could not remember where he was during one of the severest and most destructive fights of the war. If he had been in a position corresponding to that of the doughty old admiral, it would have been difficult for him to forget it. But personal bravery alone does not win the battle on the sea or the land. The admiral's victories are due even more to his genius--to his persevering industry in the elaboration of preparatory details.

"Brave Old Salt," as Somers always called him, was our young officer's beau-ideal of a naval commander. "Brave" he certainly was, and "Old Salt," to a sailor, means something more than a long experience at sea.

It conveys to the nautical mind an idea of skill which no "lubber" can possess. It was bravery, seamanship, and those peculiar qualities which an "old salt" possesses, that made him great on the quarter deck, in command of a squadron.

Somers's admiration for the commander-in-chief of the fleet off Mobile Bay was of no recent origin. Since he had first known him as "Flag Officer Farragut" at Ship Island, before the grade of Rear and Vice Admiral had been created in our navy, he had reverenced him as a superior man, and looked up to him with an almost superst.i.tious awe. He could hardly realize that they were both of the same earthly mould, with the like human hopes and aspirations. Though, for a young man of his age, Somers regarded his rank of master as very high, it did not permit him to abate one jot or t.i.ttle of the distance which lay between him and the admiral. He did not feel any better ent.i.tled to tread the same deck with the glorious old hero, as a master, than he did as an ordinary seaman.

Somers returned to active duty as soon as he had reported to the first lieutenant of the Chatauqua, and he had the deck in the first dog watch on the day of his arrival. During the afternoon watch he had had plenty of time to report the incidents of his cruise in the Ben Nevis. Mr.

Hackleford had immediately communicated to the captain the facts concerning Pillgrim's letter, and the recreant lieutenant's papers had been carefully overhauled in search of anything which would shed a ray of light upon the statements of the strange letter.

The only doc.u.ment which looked at all hopeful was a note written in cipher, to which there was no key among the papers. If the communication had been in Chinese or Chaldaic, there might have been a chance of unravelling it; as it was, the note was written in arbitrary characters, which were as cabalistic and unintelligible as the Egyptian hieroglyphics. Somers was annoyed and discomfited, for he had confidently reckoned upon finding some letter which contained a hint to guide him. There was nothing but this note in cipher.

To add to his chagrin, Mr. Hackleford was utterly sceptical in regard to Pillgrim's letter--did not believe the first word of it--called it "gas," and declared that it would be stupid and childish to pay the least attention to the doc.u.ment. Captain Cascabel fully concurred with him in this opinion, and both of them laughed at Somers for bestowing a second thought upon it.

"Nonsense! Mr. Somers!" exclaimed the first lieutenant. "There isn't a single scintillation of truth in the story. If there were even a glimmering of reality in the thing, I would look into it."

"But Mr. Pillgrim told me some truth in regard to the Ben Nevis," argued Somers.

"That is the best reason in the world for believing he has not done so in this instance," said Mr. Hackleford.

"I suppose I must give up the idea, then."

"You must, indeed. If you don't, I am afraid your reputation for common sense and good judgment will suffer."

"Will you allow me to take this letter in cipher, and keep it till to-morrow?" asked Somers.

"Certainly."

Somers took the letter, and put it into his pocket until he had an opportunity to study its mystic characters. He was mortified by the rebuff he had received, but his faith, though somewhat shaken, was not destroyed. He was officer of the deck from four till six. Just before he was relieved, he ordered the side to be manned to receive the captain, who was just returning from a visit to the flag-ship.

As he touched his cap to Captain Cascabel, he noticed a smile on his commander's face, which seemed to relate to him, and he blushed beneath the pleasant, but expressive glance bestowed upon him.

"Mr. Somers," said the captain.

The officer of the deck stepped forward, and saluted the commander again.

"You are invited to dine with Admiral Farragut to-morrow afternoon."

"I, sir!" exclaimed Somers, completely overwhelmed by this remarkable declaration.

"Rear Admiral Farragut presents his compliments to Mr. Somers, and would be happy to see him at dinner to-morrow, on board the Hartford."

The captain pa.s.sed on to the companion-way, leading to his cabin, leaving Somers as bewildered as though he had been invited to dine with Queen Victoria, Louis Napoleon, and the Emperor of Russia; indeed, he regarded it as a much greater honor to dine with "Brave Old Salt," than to put his feet under the mahogany of the mightiest crowned head of the world. It was evident that somebody had been talking to the admiral about him; the captain and the first lieutenant of the Chatauqua certainly felt kindly enough towards him to do so.

To dine with Admiral Farragut! That was glory enough for a lifetime; or at least to be deemed worthy of such a distinction. Our friend Somers was no sn.o.b; he "looked up" to great people, especially to those who were really great. He pretended to no familiarity with his superiors, though some of the officers were dying with envy at the notice taken of him by the captain and first lieutenant of the ship. He did not a.s.sume to be familiar with men who had won a deathless fame in defending their country's cause. Perhaps there was not an officer in the fleet who would so highly appreciate such a compliment as that of which he was now the happy recipient.

When he was relieved from the deck, and went down into the ward-room, the news had gone before him, and the "idlers" there congratulated him upon his rising fame. But Somers broke away from them as soon as he could decently do so, and shut himself up in his state-room. He was actually dizzy at the idea of sitting down at the table with "Brave Old Salt" in the cabin of the Hartford; and though he took the cabalistic note of Mr. Pillgrim from his pocket, at least half an hour was wasted before he could apply his mind undividedly to the difficult problem before him. Finally, the hope of making a grand revelation to the admiral on the morrow fired his zeal to such a pitch that the work looked like play to him.

Somers opened the mysterious doc.u.ment and spread it out on the desk, at which he seated himself. It looked dark and hopeless, with its dots and dashes, its horizontals and perpendiculars, its curves and crosses. We present the note in full, that our readers may be able to appreciate the difficulty of the task he had undertaken.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

If Somers had been a student of the occult sciences, he might have been more hopeful. An hour's hard study brought a gleam of light. He thought the note must be signed by Langdon. There were seven letters in the signature. This was his first ray of hope. He then placed all the letters of the alphabet in a column, and against each made the character that represented it in the cipher. Six letters were thus interpreted.

The next step was to place each of the letters thus discovered over its sign in the note. The second and third words of the epistle then stood, the eights being for undiscovered letters, as follows: 88nxlo8ond.

"Ben Lomond!" exclaimed Somers, as he gave a smart rap on the desk to indicate his joy at the discovery.

Three more letters were gained, and the oblique cross was only a mark to divide the words. The three letters before Ben Lomond must be, t h e.

The solution began to be easy, though it required a long time to reach it. At midnight, when he was called to take the mid watch, he had it written out as follows:--

_Washington, Twentieth of June._

_The Ben Lomond is at Mobile, fitting out. Mallory gives you the command. The forts will be attacked by the first of August. You must get her out before that time._

_LANGDON._