CHAPTER XII.

SHIP ISLAND.

Captain Mainwright remained so long in the fort, that it is quite probable he forgot that Mr. Midshipman Dickey was waiting for him at the pier. Perhaps it would have made no difference with him, if he had thought of it: at any rate, he stopped a long time; and, when he came down to the boat, he did not apologize to Mr. Dickey for detaining him so long. Mr. Dickey did not seem to be offended with him for his want of consideration; for he touched his cap as politely, when the captain stepped into the boat, as though his patience had not been sorely tried.

Jack Somers touched his cap very reverently; for he was so grateful to the commander of the Harrisburg for his kindness to him, that he would willingly have waited all day and all night in the boat for him. As Captain Mainwright was engaged in the business of the nation, it is likely that he did not care whether Mr. Dickey was satisfied or not. In fact, officers in the navy are not in the habit of consulting the wishes of their inferiors: and we are inclined to think that they are perfectly right in doing so; for, if they attempted to please all who chose to differ from them, the old flag would be the greatest sufferer by the operation.

Jack wanted very much to know how long the ship was to remain at Fortress Monroe: but he did not think it prudent to ask the question even of Mr. Bankhead, much less of the captain; for, even if these gentlemen had known themselves, they had a provoking habit of keeping things to themselves. It is not certain that any officer below the captain knew when or where the ship was going; and it was a fact, that not a man outside of the cabin and wardroom had the remotest idea whether they were going to Gibraltar or the South. This may seem very strange to our readers; but the destination of a ship-of-war is seldom made public in time of war. Sometimes the seamen can form a tolerably correct idea from the amount and kind of stores put on board, and other circumstances. Vessels often sail with sealed orders, which the captain is permitted to open only when the ship reaches a certain position. The information is not often communicated to the people, though they sometimes obtain it by accident.

On board the Harrisburg, everybody wondered where they were going; but the whole subject was a sealed book to them, and Jack was obliged to content himself without knowing anything at all about the matter. As he stood behind Captain Mainwright, with the tiller-ropes in his hands, he tried to read the expression of his face; yet, when he gave the order to “toss oars,” he made no headway whatever in the operation. The captain’s face was as uncommunicative as his lips.

The side was manned when the monarch of the quarter-deck went over the gangway, and was received in due form by the officer of the deck, and others who were present. The commander of a man-of-war is always received with a great deal of ceremony when he comes on board of the ship, though he may not have been absent fifteen minutes. The “side boys” form a double line, and touch their caps as he passes through the lines. He is treated with a great deal of respect at all times. Every man, from the first-lieutenant to the third-class boys, touches his cap to him, as every officer and man must do when he approaches his superior.

Boat-keepers at the swinging-boom stand up, and salute officers arriving or departing in boats. If Captain Mainwright’s gig, in going to or coming from the shore, had met a boat containing a flag-officer,--that is, the commander of a squadron,--etiquette would require that his crew should toss oars (hold them up, perpendicularly), and the captain would touch his cap to his superior. Commissioned officers, in passing him, would lie on their oars, and warrant-officers would toss oars to him. These are tokens of respect which every inferior must yield to his superior. Custom or particular regulations adjust all these matters with the most punctilious care.

When Captain Mainwright had gone up the side, and the accomplished Mr. Dickey had also disappeared over the bulwarks, Jack secured his boat, and went on deck. As he passed along the crowd of idlers, he was roughly congratulated upon his good fortune. He made his way down to the berth-deck, where he found Tom Livingstone.

“Give us your flipper, Jack!” said the veteran, as he rose from the mess-bench. “I give ye joy, Jack! It’s a good thing to have someone in the wardroom to speak a good word for you.”

“Then you think I owe my promotion to the favor of Mr. Bankhead?” replied Jack, as Tom wrung his hand.

“Sartin of it, my pretty piper.”

“Then I would rather throw up my new rating,” added our hero.

“Why, you lollipop! I don’t say you didn’t desarve it; for every man aboard knows as how you did. It is not every man that desarves promotion as gets it.”

“I don’t ask any favors,” continued Jack.

“Yes, you do, my lively gigsman. You want your desarts, and you’ll find that’s the greatest favor you can get.”

“I don’t see it in that light.”

“Are you going for to kick because you’ve got a good friend in the wardroom?” demanded Tom sternly.

“No; but I don’t want any favors not bestowed upon the rest of the men.”

“It’s all right: no mistake about that. The whole crew would like to give you three cheers for what you did; and every mother’s son on ’em would vote to make you boatswain this minute, if they could.”

“Doubted!”

“Yes, they would: we’ll except that piratical Becket, or such car’on as he is. For all that, my merry to’gallant-man, kissin’ goes by favor. There’s a score of old sheet-anchor men for’ad that has weathered Cape Horn a dozen times; melted the grease out of their bodies in the East Indies, and been froze up in the arctic; and what are they now? Able seamen, Jack,--that’s all. They don’t get so much pay as you do, that never went out of sight of land in a man-of-war. You’re lucky, Jack, and you ought to be thankful for what you’ve got.”

“I am thankful Tom. But why didn’t the captain choose a cockswain from these sheet-anchor men?”

“’Cause kissin’ goes by favor, my breezy little topman. But bless your heart, Jack, them old fellows aren’t good for cockswains. They want lively, brisk, handsome little fellers like you for cockswains of the commodore’s barge and the cap’n’s gig. Besides, them fellers are gettin’ old and stiff, and stow away grog enough to float a seventy-four. You’ve got what you desarve, Jack; and you ought to be satisfied.”

“So I am; but I don’t want any man to think that I was promoted when I didn’t deserve it.”

“You did desarve it.”

“That’s so!” added Bob Rushington with emphasis.

And so said the rest of the mess: for, while the argument was in progress, the crew had been piped to supper; and Jack had no reason to complain of a want of sympathy among his mess-mates.

The Harrisburg remained at Fortress Monroe five days; at the end of which time, she went to sea again. Though the prophets and wise men of the berth-deck indulged in all sorts of speculations in regard to the destination of the ship, nothing was known in regard to the future, except that she was headed to the southward. Whether she was going to serve as a blockader, or to engage in more active work, was as much a mystery as ever. If the quarter-deck was any wiser than the berth-deck, it preserved its own secrets with religious care.

Three days after she sailed, the ship approached the land again; and Jack learned that she was going into Port-Royal Harbor. A little later, he saw the forts, on either side of the bay, which had been captured by the squadron of Commodore Dupont. From the mizzen-top he saw the stars and stripes floating over them; and his heart beat a livelier pulsation as he recalled the glorious events of that heroic day.

The ship came to anchor in the harbor, and the captain’s gig was again in demand. Jack saw a great many things which interested and instructed him; but no events of sufficient importance to be recorded in these pages occurred during his stay.

From Port Royal, the Harrisburg went to Key West on the following day; thence to Havana, where she exchanged salutes with the English, French, and Spanish men-of-war lying in the harbor; and Jack had a fine opportunity to observe the perfection of ceremonial observances which prevail in the navy. Admirals and commodores were as thick as snow-flakes at Christmas; and such a banging of great guns, such a dipping of ensigns; such a tossing of oars, even the old salts had never seen before. Every other man he met seemed to be an admiral; and he had nearly worn out his cap in touching it to the foul anchors that glittered upon the shoulders of those who passed his station.

The last time he pulled the captain off from the shore, he heard him tell a gentleman with him that the Harrisburg was ordered to Ship Island to relieve the flag-ship Niagara; and, the same day, she got under weigh again.

“We are in for’t now, Jack. We shall have some music afore long,” said Tom Longstone, when Jack reported his information to the old quartermaster. “I’ll bet a month’s pay we pitch into Mobile afore April Fool’s Day.”

“I hope so,” replied Jack.

“Perhaps you won’t feel so good about it when the time comes. You don’t know what ’tis, Jack, to see round-shot smashin’ through the sides of the ship, tearing off splinters, and scatterin’ ’em like kindlin’-wood all over the decks, knocking over the best men at the guns. We don’t any on us know much about it.”

“I’m ready for it, if we can only knock Mobile, or any other rebel place, in pieces. I hoped I should be in when Charleston was taken.”

“Time enough yet, Jack.”

If our hero could have known in what bloody and exciting scenes he was soon to engage, he would have been satisfied to spend the intervening time in preparing for the future. Every day the men were drilled at the guns, and in the use of the cutlass and boarding-pike; so that, the longer the trying ordeal of battle was deferred, the better prepared were the crew to meet it.

After a passage of four days, the Harrisburg arrived at Ship Island; which my young readers are aware is little more than a sand-bar off the eastern coast of Louisiana. She was now nearer the rebels than she had been before; and certain little steamers, flaunting the Confederate flag, were occasionally seen near the land, as they came out to ascertain what Uncle Sam was doing at the island. They were very prudent, however; and seldom placed themselves within range of the heavy guns on board the ships-of-war.

After the ship had been at this station about ten days, a boat-expedition was organized; though its object, as usual, was a profound secret to all except the officers. From various indications, the enterprise promised to be an exciting affair. The first, second, and third cutters were to compose the boat-party; and, besides the regular crews, a limited number of seamen were to engage in the expedition. Forthwith there was a great struggle among the men to obtain places in the boats; for there was hardly a man on board who did not wish to be counted in. The men had all been selected by Mr. Bankhead; and Jack Somers was terribly disappointed when he found that he was “left out in the cold.”

Tom Longstone was to go in the first cutter, and our hero bemoaned to him his sad fate in being compelled to stay behind.

“Never mind, Jack; plenty of time yet. It will be your turn next,” replied Tom in soothing tones.

“Let me go in your place, Tom,” asked Jack, half in jest, and half in earnest.

“Can’t do that,” replied the veteran, shaking his head. “If there’s any chance for a fight, I mustn’t lose it. Besides, you may lose your number in the mess if you go.”

“I’ll risk that. Don’t you think I can get a chance to go?”

“Perhaps you can find someone that will give you his chance, my little piper.”

“Who wants to go?” said a voice at the mess-table behind them.

“I do,” answered Jack promptly, and before he saw who asked the question.

“Jack Somers?”

“Yes.”

Jack now found that the speaker was Sam Becket, his topmate, who had been disrated on account of the affair off the capes of Virginia. He had fully recovered from the effects of his involuntary bath on that eventful morning. Popular opinion on board the Harrisburg had set hard against him; and he had found that the way of the transgressor is hard. Since his recovery, he had performed his duty in surly silence. If he felt any gratitude towards his topmate for saving his life, he never manifested it by word or look; and Jack and his friends had hardly noticed him.

“You can have my place, Jack, if you want it bad,” added Becket, without looking at the person he addressed.

“Thank you: I’m very much obliged to you, Becket,” said Jack, astonished at this self-sacrifice on the part of his enemy.

“I owe you one for what you did that morning,” continued the ex-cockswain of the captain’s gig.

“That’s handsome!” said Tom Longstone.

“I’d like to go myself,” added Becket; “but I’ll give way to Somers. He did better nor that by me.”

“That’s a fact, Becket. If it hadn’t been for the lad, you’d ’a been fish-bait in twenty minutes.”

“Nobody knows it better nor I do. I was wrong that night in the top, and I axes his pardon.”

“There’s my hand, Becket,” said Jack heartily.

“You haven’t anything agin me, have you, Jack?” asked Becket, as he took the proffered hand.

“Not a thing.”

“You are welcome to my chance in the first cutter.”

“Thank you, Becket.”

“But you must get leave of the first-lieutenant,” added Tom. “How do you know but he has something for you to do? ’Spose the cap’n wants to go ashore: then where’s his cockswain? Perhaps he kept you back on purpose.”

Jack’s ardor was a little dampened by this suggestion: but he determined to adopt it; for Tom’s view seemed to be correct. Though the ship was at anchor, her fires were banked, and her regular watches were kept. The boat-expedition was to start very early in the morning; and Jack was fearful that he should have no opportunity to obtain the desired permission.

When the starboard watch was called at eight bells, he was so fortunate as to find Mr. Bankhead on deck; and he respectfully presented his petition. The first-lieutenant promised to consult the captain; and the result was, that the permission was granted; and Jack was as happy as though he were going to a feast, instead of to a work which might be bloody and fatal.