CHAPTER XXI.

UP THE RIVER.

Jack Somers was delighted with the change which had been made in his position: not that he was dissatisfied with his duties on board the Harrisburg; but there was a prospect of being ordered to more active duty. The Middy was small and fast; and he was confident that her services would be in continual demand. Besides, Mr. Bankhead was now his captain; and he hoped he should have a better opportunity to distinguish himself.

Jack had hardly become accustomed to his new quarters in the Middy before a new character appeared on board, and one with whom the quartermasters were to become particularly intimate. He was a rough-looking man, and swore ever so much more than there was any need of; but he was not much worse than many of the crew. Jack Somers had not yet learned to swear. He was strongly tempted, sometimes, to use big words; but, when he observed that Mr. Bankhead and Mr. Granger never uttered an oath, he came to the conclusion that he could better afford to imitate them than the seamen who were less careful of their speech. Tom Longstone never used a profane word: and a long conversation with him, while the Harrisburg lay at anchor below the city, had fully confirmed all his previous resolutions.

Mr. Lunsley did swear; and his nose was very red, and his manners very coarse. Jack did not like him at all when he appeared at the wheel-house, where the two quartermasters were engaged in making things snug and orderly. He was the very antipodes of Mr. Bankhead, who was a perfect gentleman in all his relations both with his inferiors and his superiors in rank. There was only one thing about him which Jack did like; and that was the rosette of “red, white, and blue,” which he wore upon the lapel of his coat, indicating that he was a loyal man. In the midst of so many traitors, this was no small recommendation in a man who knew every bend and shoal of the Mississippi River.

“All hands, up anchor, ahoy!” passed through the Middy shortly after the appearance of Mr. Lunsley.

Tom Longstone and Jack were in the wheel-house with the pilot, who was smoking his cigar, and watching the operations of the sailors on the forecastle.

“Anchor’s away, sir!” said the man who officiated in the capacity of boatswain, to Mr. Hayswell, who stood upon the hurricane-deck.

“Strike one bell, Jack!” added the lieutenant.

“One bell, sir!”

The Middy went ahead slowly; and, when the anchor had been placed on the forecastle, the four bells were struck, and she went ahead rapidly up the river. Jack had the wheel, and received his directions from Mr. Lunsley, who continued to smoke his cigar and to swear, though he had nothing particular to swear at.

At the time of which we write, the country on both sides of the river was in possession of the enemy, who closely watched the stream, though they were very careful not to demonstrate upon any of the gunboats which passed up and down after the capture of New Orleans. Though the rebels could not successfully contest the possession of the river with the powerful naval armaments of the Government, it was their policy to impede the navigation as much as possible. Masked batteries had been planted at various points, and companies of light-artillery and sharp-shooters were employed to annoy any steamers which had not the means of returning the fire.

Even the gunboats and larger vessels were annoyed by riflemen attempting to pick off any man who showed his head above the bulwarks, or appeared in the rigging. The Middy had been prepared for duty with a full knowledge of this state of things. Her wheel-house had been plated with iron sufficiently thick to resist a rifleball. Iron screens had been prepared to protect the men while working the guns.

The Middy continued on her course up the river, bearing the stars and stripes through the very midst of the discomfited rebels. The men were piped to dinner as usual; and no one on board seemed to consider that he was in the enemy’s country, and surrounded by enterprising and spiteful foes. Tom was at dinner; and Jack was alone with Mr. Lunsley, who declared that he could not leave till the steamer had passed a certain difficult bend which he described.

“I think I can get along alone, after what you have said,” added Jack, who had a great deal of confidence in his own ability.

“Perhaps you can, my little joker; but I don’t trust this craft out of sight when there’s a shoal ahead,” replied the pilot; and of course he could not utter a remark of this length without interlarding it with half a dozen Mississippi oaths.

“Your directions are very plain, and I thought I understood them.”

“But I have some pride in this business. I’ve run up and down this brook for ten years, and always had good luck. Now, if this steamer should get aground, some of your folks would call me a traitor, or some other pretty name of that sort.”

“I think not, sir.”

“I won’t trust ’em, little joker. If you----”

The loyal philosophy which was contained in the thought Mr. Lunsley was about to utter was forever lost upon our hero; for a cannon-shot at this instant whistled through the air, unpleasantly near the wheel-house.

“I know’d it!” said he, changing his tone and manner.

“Knew what?”

“I know’d there was a battery here.”

“What did you ran us upon it for, then?”

“We must go in the channel, any way, my joker. But maybe you ain’t afraid of cannon-balls?”

“Not particularly; though I have a wholesome respect for them when they are properly projected,” replied Jack.

Another shot followed the first, and then a third. The crew were called to quarters, and Tom Longstone returned to the wheel-house. Captain Bankhead took his station on the hurricane-deck, by the side of the pilot; and Mr. Hayswell was on the forward-deck.

“Strike two bells, quartermaster,” said the captain.

“Two bells, sir.”

The boat stopped; for it was no part of Captain Bankhead’s plan to have his vessel knocked to pieces without an adequate compensation. By his order, the thirty-two-pounder on the forecastle was discharged in the direction from which the shot came. Old Grummet was captain of this piece; and there was not a better gunner in the navy. The old man growled all the time; but he worked with an alacrity which spoke better for his zeal and courage than his words did. After half a dozen shells had been thrown into the thicket from which the firing had proceeded, the guns of the enemy appeared to be silenced; and the Middy again proceeded on her way.

She had been backed down the stream some distance; and, during the firing, the engine had worked just enough to keep her head up the river, and give her steerage-way. As she advanced, the thirty-two-pounder continued to discourse with the unseen rebels.

“We are all right now, Tom!” said Jack.

“Not yet, my darling. The rebel guns is short range; and, when we come up, they’ll give us some more.”

“You may depend on that,” added Mr. Lunsley. “Starboard! quartermaster.”

“Starboard, sir!” replied Tom.

“Steady!”

“Steady, sir!”

“Now we catch it again!” continued the pilot. “Starboard!”

“Starboard, sir!” replied Tom, as another shot passed over the forward-deck, so that the “wind” could be felt in the pilot-house.

Just then, Tom was called to assist in working one of the quarter-guns, and Jack was left alone at the wheel. The pilot kept well back behind the iron plates which shielded the helmsman.

“Hard-a-starboard!” said the pilot.

“You don’t see where you are going, sir!” replied Jack.

The sun, which had been behind a cloud, at this moment came out, and the helmsman could distinctly see the bottom on the bow of the Middy. There was not four feet of water in the direction the pilot had ordered him to steer.

“Hard-a-starboard!” repeated the pilot sharply. “Do you think I don’t know this river better than you do?”

“But look, sir! I can see the bottom!”

At this moment, the thirty-two-pounder sent another shell into the thicket, the noise of which seemed to startle Lunsley, and he crouched back into his former position. He had risen with the intention of taking the wheel from the hands of the refractory quartermaster. Three or four more shots from the shore passed near the Middy: but she was still untouched; for her motion prevented the rebel gunners from obtaining the correct range.

“Hard-a-starboard the helm!” shouted Lunsley again, when he had quieted his nerves.

This time he did not wait for Jack to execute the order, but rose, and seized the spokes of the wheel, rolling it over in the direction indicated.

“Better mind what I say!” growled he with a volley of oaths, which made Jack’s blood run cold.

“There’s no water there!” exclaimed Tom, glancing over the port-bow at the long shoal, which could be distinctly seen.

At the same time, mustering all the strength and nerve of his slender frame, he heaved the wheel over to port again, and thus prevented the Middy from grounding while under the fire of the enemy’s guns.

“Let go that wheel, you villain!” cried the pilot, attempting to grasp him by the throat.

“What’s the matter here?” demanded Captain Bankhead, opening the door of the pilot-house.

“This man is a traitor! He’s trying to get the boat aground!” replied Jack with energy.

“He lies!”

“Mind your helm, Somers!” said Captain Bankhead, unable to comprehend the merits of the question.

“Shall I put her hard-a-starboard as he orders me?” asked Jack. “You can see the bottom there, sir.”

The captain glanced over the port-bow, and was satisfied that the quartermaster had spoken the truth.

“Steady!” said he.

“Steady, sir!” repeated Jack; which is the order when the helm is to be kept as it is.

He looked at Lunsley, as he spoke, with a triumphant expression upon his face. The pilot’s face was as dark as a thunder-cloud. The captain stepped out, apparently satisfied that he could trust Jack, though he did not know anything about the river, better than the pilot, who knew all about it.

He had scarcely closed the door after he had withdrawn, when Lunsley sprang to the wheel again, and made a vigorous effort to throw it over as he had directed the wheelman to do. Jack braced his feet against the spokes underneath, and for a moment prevented the scoundrel from accomplishing his purpose. But the pilot was a powerful man, and Jack found himself defeated in his attempt by main strength to prevent the Middy from being thrown ashore. He did not give up the ship: and this was precisely what it would have amounted to, if she had got aground there; for the rebels could have knocked her to pieces in five minutes if she would only “hold still” long enough.

When he found he was not a match in physical strength for the burly pilot, he had the presence of mind to strike two bells, followed by three; which were the signals respectively to stop and back her. The traitor, finding the steamer was receding from the shoal sprang forward towards the bell-pulls. There was a heavy hard-wood stick in the wheel-house, which had been used to pry up the iron screens into position. Jack grasped this weapon; and, as the pilot placed his hand upon the pull, he struck him a heavy blow upon the back of the head, which felled him to the deck.

Jack then rang two bells,--stop her; one bell,--ahead slow; four bells,--ahead, full speed.