On The Blockade Part 2

"On duty, Captain Pa.s.sford," said the first lieutenant, touching his cap to him a few minutes later.

"Heave short the anchor, and make ready to get under way," added the commander.

"Heave short, sir," replied Mr. Flint, as he touched his cap and retired. "Pa.s.s the word for Mr. Giblock."

Mr. Giblock was the boatswain of the ship, though he had only the rank of a boatswain's mate. He was an old sailor, as salt as a barrel of pickled pork, and knew his duty from keel to truck. In a few moments his pipe was heard, and the seamen began to walk around the capstan.

"Cable up and down, sir," said the boatswain, reporting to the second lieutenant on the forecastle.

Mr. Lillyworth was the acting second lieutenant, though he was not to be attached to the Bronx after she reached her destination in the Gulf.

He repeated the report from the boatswain to the first lieutenant. The steamer was rigged as a topsail schooner; but the wind was contrary, and no sail was set before getting under way. The capstan was manned again, and as soon as the report came from the second lieutenant that the anchor was aweigh, the first lieutenant gave the order to strike one bell, which meant that the steamer was to go "ahead slow."

The Bronx had actually started on her mission, and the heart of Christy swelled in his bosom as he looked over the vessel, and realized that he was in command, though not for more than a week or two. All the courtesies and ceremonies were duly attended to, and the steamer, as soon as the anchor had been catted and fished, at the stroke of four bells, went ahead at full speed, though, as the fires had been banked in the furnaces, the engine was not working up to its capacity. In a couple of hours more she was outside of Sandy Hook, and on the broad ocean. The ship's company had been drilled to their duties, and everything worked to the entire satisfaction of the young commander.

The wind was ahead and light. All hands had been stationed, and at four in the afternoon, the first dog watch was on duty, and there was not much that could be called work for any one to do. Mr. Lillyworth, the second lieutenant, had the deck, and Christy had retired to his cabin to think over the events of the day, especially those relating to the Scotian and the Arran. He had not yet read his orders, and he could not decide what he should do, even if he discovered the two steamers in his track. He sat in his arm chair with the door of the cabin open, and when he saw the first lieutenant on his way to the ward room, he called him in.

"Well, Mr. Flint, what do you think of our crew?" asked the captain, after he had seated his guest.

"I have hardly seen enough of the men to be able to form an opinion,"

replied Flint. "I am afraid we have some hard material on board, though there are a good many first-cla.s.s fellows among them."

"Of course we can not expect to get such a crew as we had in the Bellevite. How do you like Mr. Lillyworth?" asked the commander, looking sharply into the eye of his subordinate.

"I don't like him," replied Flint, bluntly. "You and I have been in some tight places together, and it is best to speak our minds squarely."

"That's right, Mr. Flint. We will talk of him another time. I have another matter on my mind just now," added Christy.

He proceeded to tell the first lieutenant something about the two steamers.

CHAPTER III

THE INTRUDER AT THE CABIN DOOR

Before he said anything about the Scotian and the Arran, Christy, mindful of the injunction of his father, had closed the cabin door, the portiere remaining drawn as it was before. When he had taken this precaution, he related some of the particulars which had been given to him earlier in the day.

"It is hardly worth while to talk about the matter yet awhile," added Christy. "I have my sealed orders, and I can not open the envelope until we are in lat.i.tude 38, and that will be sometime to-morrow forenoon."

"I don't think that Captain Folkner, who expected to be in command of the Teaser, as she was called before we put our hands upon her, overestimated her speed," replied Lieutenant Flint, consulting his watch. "We are making fifteen knots an hour just now, and Mr. Sampson is not hurrying her. I have been watching her very closely since we left Sandy Hook, and I really believe she will make eighteen knots with a little crowding."

"What makes you think so, Flint?" asked Christy, much interested in the statement of the first lieutenant.

"I suppose it is natural for a sailor to fall in love with his ship, and that is my condition in regard to the Bronx," replied Flint, with a smile which was intended as a mild apology for his weakness. "I used to be in love with the coasting schooner I owned and commanded, and I almost cried when I had to sell her."

"I don't think you need to be ashamed of this sentiment, or that an inanimate structure should call it into being," said the young commander. "I am sure I have not ceased to love the Bellevite; and in my eyes she is handsomer than any young lady I ever saw. I have not been able to transfer my affections to the Bronx as yet, and she will have to do something very remarkable before I do so. But about the speed of our ship?"

"I have noticed particularly how easily and gracefully she makes her way through the water when she is going fifteen knots. Why that is faster than most of the ocean pa.s.senger steamers travel."

"Very true; but like many of these blockade runners and other vessels which the Confederate government and rich men at the South have purchased in the United Kingdom, she was doubtless built on the Clyde.

Not a few of them have been constructed for private yachts, and I have no doubt, from what I have seen, that the Bronx is one of the number.

The Scotian and the Arran belonged to wealthy Britishers; and of course they were built in the very best manner, and were intended to attain the very highest rate of speed."

"I shall count on eighteen knots at least on the part of the Bronx when the situation shall require her to do her best. By the way, Captain Pa.s.sford, don't you think that a rather queer name has been given to our steamer? Bronx! I am willing to confess that I don't know what the word means, or whether it is fish, flesh or fowl," continued Flint.

"It is not fish, flesh or fowl," replied Christy, laughing. "My father suggested the name to the Department, and it was adopted. He talked with me about a name, as he thought I had some interest in her, for the reason that I had done something in picking her up."

"Done something? I should say that you had done it all," added Flint.

"I did my share. The vessels of the navy have generally been named after a system, though it has often been varied. Besides the names of states and cities, the names of rivers have been given to vessels. The Bronx is the name of a small stream, hardly more than a brook, in West Chester County, New York. When I was a small boy, my father had a country place on its banks, and I did my first paddling in the water in the Bronx.

I liked the name, and my father recommended it."

"I don't object to the name, though somehow it makes me think of a walnut cracked in your teeth when I hear it p.r.o.nounced," added Flint.

"Now that I know what it is and what it means, I shall take more kindly to it, though I am afraid we shall get to calling her the Bronxy before we have done with her, especially if she gets to be a pet, for the name seems to need another syllable."

"Young men fall in love with girls without regard to their names."

"That's so. A friend of mine in our town in Maine fell in love with a young lady by the name of Leatherbee; but she was a very pretty girl and her name was all the objection I had to her," said Flint, chuckling.

"But that was an objection which your friend evidently intended to remove at no very distant day," suggested Christy.

"Very true; and he did remove it some years ago. What was that noise?"

asked the first lieutenant, suddenly rising from his seat.

Christy heard the sounds at the same moment. He and his companion in the cabin had been talking about the Scotian and the Arran, and what his father had said to him about prudence in speaking of his movements came to his mind. The noise was continued, and he hastened to the door of his state room, and threw it open. In the room he found Dave hard at work on the furniture; he had taken out the berth sack, and was brushing out the inside of the berth. The noise had been made by the shaking of the slats on which the mattress rested. Davis Talbot, the cabin steward of the Bronx, had been captured in the vessel when she was run out of Pensacola Bay some months before. As he was a very intelligent colored man, or rather mulatto, though they were all the same at the South, the young commander had selected him for his present service; and he never had occasion to regret the choice. Dave had pa.s.sed his time since the Teaser arrived at New York at Bonnydale, and he had become a great favorite, not only with Christy, but with all the members of the family.

"What are you about, Dave?" demanded Christy, not a little astonished to find the steward in his room.

"I am putting the room in order for the captain, sir," replied Dave with a cheerful smile, such as he always wore in the presence of his superiors. "I found something in this berth I did not like to see about a bed in which a gentleman is to sleep, and I have been through it with poison and a feather; and I will give you the whole southern Confederacy if you find a single redback in the berth after this."

"I am very glad you have attended to this matter at once, Dave."

"Yes, sir; Captain Folkner never let me attend to it properly, for he was afraid I would read some of his papers on the desk. He was willing to sleep six in a bed with redbacks," chuckled Dave.

"Well, I am not, or even two in a bed with such companions. How long have you been in my room, Dave?" added Christy.

"More than two hours, I think; and I have been mighty busy too."

"Did you hear me when I came into the cabin?"

"No, sir, I did not; but I heard you talking with somebody a while ago."

"What did I say to the other person?"

"I don't know, sir; I could not make out a word, and I didn't stop in my work to listen. I have been very busy, Captain Pa.s.sford," answered Dave, beginning to think he had been doing something that was not altogether regular.