Marcy, the Refugee

  Produced by Gary Sandino, from scans generously providedby the Internet Archive (www.archive.org.)

  CASTLEMON'S WAR SERIES.

  MARCY, THE REFUGEE

  BY

  HARRY CASTLEMON,

  AUTHOR OF "GUNBOAT SERIES," "ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES," "SPORTSMAN'S CLUBSERIES," ETC., ETC.

  Four Illustrations by Geo. G. White.

  PHILADELPHIA:

  PORTER & COATES.

  COPYRIGHT, 1892,

  BY PORTER & COATES.

  CONTENTS.

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME, 1 II. ALLISON IS SURPRISED, 23 III. THE NEIGHBORHOOD GOSSIP, 42 IV. VISITORS IN PLENTY, 66 V. MARCY'S RASH WISH, 92 VI. THE WISH GRATIFIED, 116 VII. MARCY SPEAKS HIS MIND, 140 VIII. THE ARRIVAL OF THE FLEET, 164 IX. LOOKING FOR A PILOT, 190 X. BEARDSLEY IN TROUBLE, 214 XI. MARCY IN ACTION, 239 XII. HOME AGAIN, 264 XIII. A REBEL SOLDIER SPEAKS, 287 XIV. A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY, 310 XV. MARCY SEES SOMEBODY, 340 XVI. A FRIEND IN GRAY, 361 XVII. MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP, 385 XVIII. CONCLUSION, 406

  MARCY, THE REFUGEE.

  CHAPTER I.

  WHAT BROUGHT BEARDSLEY HOME.

  In this story we take up once more the history of the exploits andadventures of our Union hero Marcy Gray, the North Carolina boy, whotried 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 opportunitiesto prove it, until he took his brother, Sailor Jack, out to the Federalblockading fleet in his little schooner Fairy Belle, to give him achance to enlist in the navy. That was by far the most dangerousundertaking in which Marcy had ever engaged, and at the time of which wewrite, he had not seen the beginning of the trouble it was destined tobring him. Not only was he liable to be overhauled by the Confederateswhen he attempted to pass their forts at Plymouth and Roanoke Island,but he was in danger of being shot to pieces by the watchful steamlaunches of the Union fleet that had of late taken to patrolling thecoast. But he came through without any very serious mishaps, andreturned to his home to find the plantation in an uproar, and his motherin a most anxious frame of mind.

  Although Marcy Gray was a good pilot for that part of the coast, andknew all its little bays and out-of-the-way inlets as well as he knewthe road from his home to the post-office, his older brother Jack wasthe real sailor of the family. He made his living on the water. At thetime we first brought him to the notice of the reader he had been at seafor more than two years, and it was while he was on his way home thathis vessel, the _Sabine_, fell into the hands of Captain Semmes, who hadjust begun his piratical career in the Confederate steamer _Sumter._But, fortunately for Jack, Semmes was not as vigilant in those days ashe afterward became. He gave the _Sabine's_ crew an opportunity torecapture their vessel and escape from his power, and they were promptto improve it. By the most skilful manoeuvring, and without firing ashot, they made prisoners of the prize crew that Semmes had put on boardthe _Sabine_, turned them over to the Union naval authorities at KeyWest, 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 pursuedand fired at by a little schooner which turned out to be CaptainBeardsley's privateer _Osprey_, on which Marcy Gray was serving in thecapacity of pilot.

  When Jack Gray found himself in Boston, the first thing he thought ofwas getting home. The Potomac being closely guarded againstmail-carriers and smugglers who, in spite of all the precautions takenagainst them, continued to pass freely, and almost without detection,between the lines as long as the war lasted, the only plan he couldpursue was to go by water. Being intensely loyal himself, Jack neverdreamed that Northern men would be guilty of loading vessels to run theblockade, but there was at least one such craft in Boston--the _WestWind;_ and through the good offices of his old commander, the captain ofthe _Sabine_, Jack Gray was shipped on board of her as second mate andpilot. Her cargo was duly consigned to some house in Havana, but theowners meant that it should be sold in Newbern; and there were scatteredabout among the bales and boxes in her hold, a good many packages thatwould have brought the vessel and all connected with her into serioustrouble, if they had been discovered by the custom-house officers.

  When the _West Wind_ was a short distance out from Boston, the secondmate learned by accident that one of his best foremast hands was alsobound for his home in North Carolina. His name was Aleck Webster, andhis father lived on a small plantation which was not more than an hour'sride from Nashville. Being a poor man Mr. Webster did not stand veryhigh in the estimation of his rich neighbors, but that made no sort ofdifference to Jack Gray, and a warm and lasting friendship at oncesprung up between officer and man. Although they belonged to a vesselthat was fitted out to run the blockade they were both strong for theUnion, and many an hour of the mid-watch did they while away in talkingover the situation. All they knew about their friends at home was thatthey were opposed to secession; but they dared not say so, because theywere surrounded by rebels who would have been glad of an excuse to burnthem out of house and home. The two friends got angry as often as theytalked of these things, but of course they could not decide upon a planof operations until they had been at home long enough to "see how thewind set," and "how the land lay." We have told what they did when theygot ashore. When they were paid off and discharged in Newborn they madetheir way home by different routes, Jack arousing his brother in thedead of the night by tossing pebbles against his bedroom window, andafterward going off to the Federal fleet to enlist under the flag hebelieved in. Aleck Webster remained ashore for a longer time; andfinding that his father belonged to an organized band of Union men whoheld secret meetings in the swamp, and whose object it was to oppose thetactics pursued by their rebel neighbors, he joined his fortunes withtheirs, and went to work with such energy that in less that two weeks'time he had the settlement in such a panic that its prominent citizensthought seriously of calling upon the garrison at Plymouth forprotection.

  It was Mrs. Gray's misfortune to have many secret enemies about her, andthe meanest and most dangerous among them were Lon Beardsley, who livedon an adjoining plantation, and was the owner and captain of theschooner to which Marcy belonged, and her overseer, whose name wasHanson. Beardsley's enmity was purely personal; but with Hanson it was amatter of dollars and cents. The captain took Marcy to sea against hiswill, because he wanted to persecute his mother; while the overseer wasworking for the large reward Colonel Shelby had promised to give ifHanson would bring him positive information that Mrs. Gray was inreality the Union woman she was supposed to be, and that she had moneyconcealed in her house. When Sailor Jack had been at home long enough tofind out how and by whom his mother was being persecuted, he told AleckWebster about it, and the latter stopped it so quickly that everybodywas astonished, and the guilty ones alarmed.

  While Marcy was gone to take his brother out to the fleet, a verystrange and startling incident happened on Mrs. Gray's plantation.Sailor Jack had predicted that the morning was coming when the negroeswould not hear the horn blown to call them to their work, for the verygood reason that there would be no overseer on the plantation to blowit, and his prediction had been verified. One dark night, just afterMarcy and Jack set out on their perilous voyage, a band of masked mencame to the plantation, took Hanson, the overseer, out of his house andcarried him away. Where he was now
none could tell for certain; butMarcy had heard from Aleck Webster that he had been "turned loose withorders never to show his face in the settlement again." Perhaps he hadgone for good; but the fear that he might some day come back to troubleher caused Mrs. Gray no little uneasiness.

  While every one else in the settlement was so excited and uneasy, andwondering what other mysterious things were about to happen, Marcy Graywas as calm as a summer's morning. To use his own words, he was "gettingready to settle down to business." The overseer being gone, there was noone but himself left to manage the plantation; and he was glad to havethe responsibility, for it gave him something to occupy his mind. WhenAleck Webster told him that Hanson would not trouble him or his motherany more, he had also given him the assurance that he would never againbe obliged to go to sea as Captain Beardsley's pilot. There was a worldof comfort in the words, and Marcy hoped the man knew what he waspromising when he uttered them; but he thought he would feel more at hisease when he saw Beardsley's schooner at her moorings in the creek, andBeardsley himself at work in the field with his negroes.

  On the morning of the day on which our story begins, the leaden cloudshung low, and the piercing wind which came off the Sound, bringing withit occasional dashes of rain, and scattering the few remaining leavesthe early frosts had left upon the trees, seemed to cause no littlediscomfort to the young horseman who was riding along the road that ledfrom his father's plantation to the village of Nashville. He had turnedthe collar of his heavy coat about his ears, dropped the reins upon hishorse's neck, and buried his hands deep in his pockets. It was TomAllison, the boastful young rebel whom Marcy Gray, then the newlyappointed pilot of Captain Beardsley's privateer schooner, had oncerebuked and silenced in the presence of a room full of secessionsympathizers.

  Allison was on his way to the post-office after the mail, and to listento any little items of news which the idlers he was sure to find theremight have picked up since he last saw them; and, as he rode, he thoughtabout some things that puzzled him. He went over the events that hadtaken place along the coast during the last few months, beginning withthe bombardment and capture of forts Hatteras and Clark, and ending withthe Confederate occupation of Roanoke Island, and he was obliged toconfess 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 thoughtof the incidents that had lately happened in his own neighborhood, andin which some of his acquaintances and friends were personallyinterested. In fact he was deeply interested in them himself, and wouldhave given any article of value he owned for the privilege of holdingfive minutes' conversation with some one who could tell him what hadbecome of Jack Gray and Hanson.

  "I can tell you in few words what I think about it," said Tom tohimself. "There's more behind the disappearance of those two fellowsthan the men folks around here are willing to acknowledge. That's what_I_ think. I notice that Shelby, Dillon, and the postmaster don't talkquite as much nor as loudly as they did before Hanson and Gray left sosuddenly, and when I ask father what he thinks of it, he shakes his headand looks troubled; and that's all I can get out of him. They arefrightened, the whole gang of them; and to my mind we would all be saferif that Gray family was burned out and driven from the country. Theyknow everything that is said about them, and it beats me where they getthe news. The settlement is full of traitors, and probably I meet andspeak to some of them every day."

  While Allison was talking to himself in this strain his nag brought himto a cross-road, and almost to the side of another horseman who, likehimself, was riding in the direction of Nashville. The two pulled theircollars down from their faces, raised their hats, and looked at eachother; and then Allison was surprised to find that he was in the companyof Lon Beardsley, the privateersman and blockade runner. There had beena time when he would not have noticed the man any further than to givehim a slight nod or a civil word or two, for he was the son of a wealthyplanter, and thought himself better than one who had often been seenworking in the field with his negroes. There used to be a wide gulfbetween such people in the South. For example, N. B. Forrest was notrecognized socially while he was a civilian and made the most of hismoney by buying and selling men and women whose skins were darker thanhis own, but _General_ Forrest, the man who massacred Union soldiers atFort Pillow and took their commander, Major Bradford, into the woods andshot him after he had surrendered himself a prisoner of war, was held inhigh esteem. To Allison's mind, Captain Beardsley, who had smelledYankee powder and run two cargoes of contraband goods safely through theblockade, was more worthy of respect than Lon Beardsley the smuggler,and he was willing to gain his good-will now if he could, for hebelieved the captain had it in his power to punish Marcy Gray--the boywho had dared to taunt Allison with being a coward because he did notshoulder a musket and go into the army.

  "Why, captain, I thought you were miles away and making money hand overfist by running the blockade," said Allison, with an awkward flourishwhich was intended for a military salute. "I hope when you go out againyou will be sure and take that so-called pilot of yours with you, for wedon't want him hanging about here any longer. I don't believe his arm isso very badly hurt, and neither does anybody else. I am glad to see youback safe and sound. When did you get in?"

  "In where?" said Beardsley gruffly; and then the boy saw that he was inbad humor about something.

  "Into Newbern, of course. And when and how did you come up here?"

  "I came up last night in the _Hattie._"

  "You did? You don't mean to say that your schooner is in the creek, doyou?" exclaimed Allison, who was surprised to hear it. "You did not do avery bright thing when you brought her there, for the first thing youknow the Yankees will send some of their gunboats up to the island, andthen you will be blocked in. I should think you would have stayed atNewbern, where you could run out and in as often as you felt like it."

  "Don't you reckon I know my own affairs better'n you do?" snappedBeardsley. "I didn't quit a money-making business of my own free willand come home because I wanted to, but because I couldn't help myself."

  "I don't understand you," answered Tom, who was all in the dark. "Ourauthorities 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 histones. "She has been in some tight places, I can tell you, and if shehadn't showed herself to be just the sweetest, fastest thing of herinches that ever floated, I wouldn't be here talking to you now. And theYankees did send me home too; or their friends did, which amounts to thesame thing. What's become of Mrs. Gray's overseer, Hanson?"

  "I can't make out what you mean, when you say that the Yankees or theirfriends sent you home," replied Allison. "We haven't heard of theirmaking many captures along the coast lately."

  "I dunno as it makes any sort of odds to me what you didn't hear. I knowwhat I am talking about. What's happened to Hanson, I ask you?"

  "How do you suppose I can tell? And if you only came home last night,how does it come that you know anything has happened to him?" inquiredTom, who thought he saw a chance to learn something. "I haven't seenthat man Hanson for a long time."

  "Nor me; but I know well enough that there's something went wrong withhim," said Beardsley very decidedly. "I know that he was took out of hishouse at dead of night by a gang of men, that he was carried away, andthat 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 mysteriousan air in speaking of it," said Tom. "Your daughter has had time enoughto tell you all about it since you came home."

  "But I heard about it before I left Newbern."

  "You did! Who told you?"

  "Well, I heard all about it."

  "What if you did? I don't see how Hanson's disappearance could interferewith your blockade-running."

  "Mebbe you don't, but I do. If you had been in my place, and somebodyhad sent you a letter saying that if you didn't quit bu
siness and comehome at once, some of your buildings would be burned up, what would youthink then? Do you reckon it would bust up your blockade running ornot?"

  "Do you pretend to tell me that you received such a letter?" criedAllison, who could scarcely believe his ears.

  "That is just what I pretend to tell you--no less," answered thecaptain, tapping the breast of his coat as if to say that he could provehis 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 amhere now, and if I could only put my finger on the chap who caused meall this bother, I'd fix him."

  "Would you bushwhack him?" inquired Allison, wondering if there was anyway in which he could prevail upon Beardsley to show him that letter.

  "No; but I would put the authorities on to him tolerable sudden and havehim 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 moremeanness."

  "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 whohas 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 hisface with both hands, and looked hard at his companion.

  "Why, of course the Grays are down on you heavy, and all your friendsand mine know it," continued Tom. "You know it, don't you?"

  "There, now!" exclaimed the captain, rearranging his collar and pickingup his reins again. "I never once thought of blaming it on that thereMarcy."

  "I don't blame it on him, and I don't want you to think so for amoment," said Tom, who had not yet arrived at the point of beingconfidential with Beardsley. "I never hinted that Marcy wrote theletter; but just look at the way the thing stands. A man who knows asmuch about this coast as you do never wanted a pilot, but you did wantto marry Mrs. Gray's plantation; and when she gave you to understandthat she wouldn't have it so----"

  "See here, young feller, you're going too fur," cried the captain,pulling his collar down with one hand and shaking his whip threateninglyat 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 beso very far wrong. You know you don't need a pilot, and I know it too.You have nothing against Marcy Gray personally----"

  "I ain't, hey?" shouted the angry captain. "He's just the biggest kindof a traitor that ever----"

  "That isn't what I am trying to get at, and you know it," interruptedTom. "You want to hurt him and his mother by taking him to sea againsthis will and hers. Now if you were in Marcy's place, and knew all thesethings, as he most likely does, and you saw a good chance to get evenwith the man who was persecuting you, would you let that chance slip? Ireckon not."

  "But if it's Marcy who has been a-pestering of me, how can I prove it onhim?" inquired Beardsley, who was as angry as Allison had ever known himto be.

  "Let me see the letter," replied Tom.

  "No, I reckon not. What do you want to see it fur?"

  "I can tell you whether or not Marcy Gray wrote it, for I know his handas well as I know my own."

  Beardsley hesitated. Ever since the morning he took the letter inquestion from the office in Newbern, he had been burning with anxietyand impatience to find out whom he had to thank for sending it to him,and he was now on his way to call upon his friends Shelby and Dillon tosee if they could not put him on the track of the writer. He wanted toask them what they thought of the whole miserable business any way, anddid not care to show the letter until he heard what they had to sayabout it.

  "I know the handwriting of every man and boy in this settlement,"continued Allison, "and if I can't tell you who wrote it no one can; noteven the postmaster."

  This settled the matter, to Allison's satisfaction. The captain openedhis coat and drew out the letter, which was written in a hand that wasplainly 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 government 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 you that the first proof that we mean jes what we say, you will get in a letter from your folks, who will tell you that a letter something like this was found on the front gallery of your house on a 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 building 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 ourselves, THE PERTECTORS OF THE HELPLESS.

  "Marcy Gray never had a hand in getting up this letter, more's thepity," thought Tom, as he again ran his eye over the plainly writtenlines in the hope of finding something that would give him an excuse forsaying that Marcy did write it. "Look at the spelling and the bunglinglanguage! Marcy couldn't do that if he tried."

  "Well, what do you reckon you make of it?" demanded the captain.

  "It's perfectly scandalous the most outrageous thing I ever heard of!"exclaimed Allison. "Just think of the impudence this fellow shows inordering you--ordering, I say----"

  "Oh, there's more'n one feller mixed up in it," said Beardsley, with agroan.

  "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 wantedto? I say it is a burning shame that good and loyal Confederates shouldsubmit to be ordered about in this way, and you were foolish for payingthe least attention to it. You ought to have gone on with your businessand come home when you got ready."

  Beardsley turned down the collar of his coat, threw his left leg overthe horn of his saddle, and shook his whip at Allison as if he wereabout to say something impressive.