Brave Old Salt Part 37

"Yes, sir; we shall deepen till we get seven fathoms."

"And a half five!" came from the chains. "By the deep six."

The pilot went on the bridge, and taking the cord attached to the whistle of the engine, made a signal, consisting of several blasts, with irregular intervals between them. A heavy bell on sh.o.r.e sounded several times in answer to the signal.

"All right," said the pilot. "I know exactly where I am."

"By the deep six!" called the leadsman.

The pilot repeated the signal with the whistle, which was answered from the sh.o.r.e by the bell.

"Quarter less seven!"

"It is all going right, captain," said the pilot to Somers, who stood on the bridge with him.

"By the mark seven!"

"Hard a port!" shouted the pilot, as he gazed into the binnacle on the bridge.

"Hard a port!" repeated the line of officers, till the order was returned by the wheelman.

"Steady!" said the pilot.

"Mark under water seven!" cried the quartermaster in the chains.

"Keep her south by west," added the pilot.

"South by west!" returned the wheelman.

"This course will bring us into the midst of the Yankee fleet in about twenty minutes," said Captain Column.

"I'm not at all afraid of the Yankee fleet," replied Somers.

"I'm not afraid of anything else," laughed the pilot.

"Where are the torpedoes?"

"Between us and Fort Morgan, which is only about a third of a mile distant, on our beam."

"And the obstructions?"

"We have pa.s.sed them; they are of no account. Captain, I think all your troubles are yet to come," said the pilot, as he glanced ahead.

"Why so?"

"If we should happen to plump into one of those monitors, a fifteen inch shot would finish this craft in less time than it would take to read a man's epitaph."

"I have prepared for all such accidents. The Yankees will not fire on me."

"No?" exclaimed the pilot, wonderingly.

"I think you don't know me."

"I heard the first lieutenant say you were coming down here in one of the Yankee ships."

"I did."

"Did you, though?"

"We will come to anchor, pilot, when we get within hail of the Yankee squadron."

"Come to anchor, sir?"

"Certainly; come to anchor, until the fog clears off, or we can get a little daylight. I don't want much."

"Well, that beats me!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Captain Column.

"I shall hoist The Yankee flag over the Confederate; then the Yankees will think this ship is a prize, and will not fire into her."

"That beats me!" repeated the pilot.

"I came down here in a Yankee man-of-war, and I made the arrangements for carrying this thing through before I left her."

"O, yes, I see!" laughed Captain Column. "You are playing them a Yankee trick."

"Exactly so!"

"Capital! capital!" exclaimed the pilot.

Fifteen minutes later, the Ben Lomond came to anchor under the lee of Sand Island, to wait for a favorable time to continue her voyage.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A YANKEE TRICK.

The rebel officers and crew of the Ben Lomond were greatly astonished when the order was given to let go the anchor. They were not in a condition to appreciate the policy of stopping the wheels, and waiting for daylight within hail of the blockading squadron, reenforced as it had been for the attack on the forts; but as the captain had the reputation of being a perfect tiger, a fire-eater of the most ravenous sort, they did not venture to grumble or make any complaints.

Captain Column, the pilot, chuckled, and declared it was all right; the commander knew what he was about, and would get the steamer out of the sc.r.a.pe without even a shot from the Yankee men-of-war.

Somers had kept up his dignity and maintained his self-possession in the exciting scenes through which he had just pa.s.sed; but it must not be thought that he was as easy in mind as he appeared to be. Every moment had been burdened with its own peculiar anxiety. The least slip, the slightest accident, would expose him and his brave followers to great peril, if not to capture and death. He had won the day thus far by the mere force of impudence and self-possession; but it was not without a fear of failure, disgrace, and captivity.

But everything, up to this time, had worked admirably. He had met and successfully turned aside the obstacles which beset him; and when the Ben Lomond came to anchor, the prospect looked more hopeful than at any previous hour. It was now about two o'clock in the morning. As there was nothing to do, he devoted an hour to an examination of the vessel, which had been fitted up at Mobile as a rebel cruiser. She had a heavy rifled pivot gun amidships, and four broadside guns, and was in every respect well provided for the work in which she was to engage.

She was a vessel of about four hundred tons measurement, long, narrow, and very sharp. Her rig was that of a topsail schooner, and her smoke-stack raked with her masts. She was a beautiful craft, and no labor or expense had been spared to make her the fastest and most elegant vessel afloat.