CHAPTER XXII.

JACK ASHORE.

The roar of the guns, and the busy scenes in every part of the steamer, had prevented anyone from noticing the affair which had just transpired in the wheel-house. The Middy was completely enveloped in the smoke of her own guns; and, though Captain Bankhead was on the hurricane-deck, he had no knowledge of the important event which had saved his vessel from destruction. The stopping, backing, and going ahead again, had been noticed, of course; but they were supposed to have been occasioned by some difficulty in the navigation.

The battery which had opened upon the Middy was situated upon a point of land at a bend in the river, and on the port-hand. Near the land, there was a broad shoal; for the current, in turning this curve, would, by its natural law, sweep round to the opposite shore. As soon, therefore, as Jack found himself his own master in the wheel-house, he put the helm well a-port, and kept the steamer away from the dangerous ground.

Captain Bankhead, who was directing the action on deck, had passed the word for Tom Longstone as soon as he was conscious of any treachery on the part of Lunsley. Before Tom came up from below, he again opened the door of the wheel-house, where he discovered the prostrate form of the traitor.

“What’s this, Somers?” demanded Captain Bankhead.

“He is a traitor, sir! He tried to take the wheel out of my hands, and throw the steamer on that shoal!” replied Jack in high excitement. “I knocked him down with this club, and kept her off.”

“Good Heaven!” exclaimed the captain, who could not but be impressed by the danger he had just escaped. “You have done well, Jack. Here comes Longstone. Keep her off short a few minutes longer, and we shall be clear of the battery.”

“Ay, ay, sir. There is water enough for us anywhere on the starboard hand. We are all right now, sir.”

“Keep her steady, Jack, and be very careful. Don’t stop her again if you can help it.”

“I will not, sir.”

“Here, Longstone: roll this traitor out of the wheel-house, and then stand by with Somers.”

“Ay, ay, sir;” and Tom pitched the carcass of the pilot out of the wheel-house, very much as though it had been the body of a dead dog.

“What’s the matter, my darling?” asked Tom as he joined Jack at the wheel.

“Nothing particular, Tom. I’ll tell you all about it, by and by,” replied Jack, still keeping his eyes fixed upon the water ahead.

The clouds of smoke obstructed his vision; but he made the most of the brief intervals when the wind opened a clear space for him. He felt that the safety of the Middy depended as much upon him as upon the captain; for, if she got aground, it would insure her destruction in a very few moments. The rebels were improving in their practice, and two or three shots had struck the steamer. One had passed through the cabin on the main-deck; and another had ploughed up several feet of the hurricane-deck, abaft the smoke-stack.

The Middy soon passed the most dangerous point, and the guns of the rebels had begun to fall short of the mark. Only the port quarter-gun of the steamer could be brought to bear upon the battery; and the action seemed to be over, unless Captain Bankhead chose to renew it.

“Where is the pilot?” asked the captain, opening the door of the wheel-house.

“I dunno, sir: I pitched him out on the hurricane-deck,” replied Tom, stepping out to look for his victim.

“He is not here now.”

“I dropped him down there,” added Tom, pointing to the place where he had deposited the senseless form of the pilot.

“We must find him before he has a chance to do any further mischief.”

The captain and quartermaster walked aft to ascertain what had become of Lunsley, who had evidently come to his senses, and taken himself off. He was not on the hurricane-deck; and they were about to descend to the main-deck, when the pilot’s canoe, which had been towing astern, was discovered some distance down the river, pulling towards the battery. The villain, who had in some measure recovered from the effects of Jack’s blow, had crept down from the hurricane-deck during the excitement of the action, and taken to his canoe. A twenty-four-pound shot from one of the quarter-guns was sent after him; but the object was so small, and the distance so great, that the gunner failed to hit it.

The Middy was then put about, so as to bring the thirty-two-pounder to bear upon the battery, and again opened fire upon the rebels; for Captain Bankhead expressed his purpose to clean out the enemy from their position. As the battery did not reply, she was moved up nearer, so that one of the twenty-four-pounders could also command the spot. After firing for half an hour without eliciting any response from the rebels, the Middy went down the river again, and placed herself in different positions to tempt the enemy to renew the action; but the battery was still silent.

The quarter-boat on the starboard side was then cleared away; and Mr. Hayswell, the first-lieutenant, was ordered on shore to examine the position.

“Somers, you will go in the boat. Mr. Hayswell may want such a person as you are to assist him,” said Captain Bankhead.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Take a pistol and cutlass with you, and don’t be reckless.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

The boat contained twelve men besides the officer, and pulled to the nearest point of land, just below the battery, where it could be covered in case of necessity by the guns of the steamer. Mr. Hayswell with eight of the men landed, and cautiously made their way up to the battery. They found a rude earthwork; but there was not a gun to be seen: and it was evident that the fort had been manned by a battery of light-artillery, which had decamped when the fire became too warm for the gunners.

A short distance from the thicket in which the gunners had been concealed, there was the mansion-house of a plantation, with its village of negro-huts in the vicinity. It was important to know in what direction the battery had gone; for Mr. Hayswell concluded that it had gone farther up the river, to open upon the steamer from another position. The party, therefore, advanced towards the mansion, but with the utmost care, to avoid falling into an ambush or any other trap which the rebels might have set for them.

“Bress de Lord, massa! De jubilee am come!” shouted a negro, stepping out from a cabin as the party approached the negro-huts.

Mr. Hayswell at once proceeded to question the negro in regard to the battery which had occupied the earthwork. The man was very willing to give any information in his power; but unfortunately he knew nothing, except that the rebels had taken the road which he pointed out. It was a cross-road leading from the main highway; and the battery might have gone up or down the river,--he could not tell which. Mr. Hayswell then decided to visit the mansion-house, leaving the negro very much depressed in spirits because “de jubilee” had not yet come, and five hundred slaves were not to be carried off by the little Middy.

The people at the mansion-house were very uncommunicative. They did not know where the battery had gone; did not know there was any battery; had heard firing, but did not know what it meant; thought it best not to interfere with matters that did not concern them. Mr. Hayswell did not deem it prudent to continue his investigation any farther, and left the house. He had scarcely stepped off the veranda before a dense smoke was discovered some distance up the river. The cotton-burners, alarmed at the approach of the Union force, had probably set fire to a pile of the precious commodity. The smoke indicated in what direction the battery had gone; and Mr. Hayswell decided to reconnoitre that way: for it was the military force of the Confederacy which destroyed cotton; and there could be hardly a doubt that the party which had fired upon the Middy was the same that performed this work of destruction.

The boat-crew had advanced but a short distance before the lieutenant was startled by the roar of artillery in the direction of the earthwork, near the spot where he had landed. It did not proceed from the Middy’s thirty-two-pounder.

“What does that mean?” said Mr. Hayswell as the party halted.

“I think the battery of artillery has got back to its old position, sir,” replied Jack, who was the person addressed.

“If it has, we are in a bad situation.”

“I’m afraid we are, sir!” added Jack, who wanted to ask Mr. Hayswell why he had wandered so far from his boat, since it did not make much difference where the battery had gone: but he was too well trained to ask an impertinent question.

“We must get back, if we can,” added Mr. Hayswell, who seemed to be very much perplexed at the difficulty of his situation, as well he might have been.

He led his party down to the shore of the river, which Jack thought was the stupidest thing he could possibly do; for the earthwork was now between them and the boat. The Middy could not even be seen around the bend of the river. At last, when the situation seemed to be utterly hopeless, Jack ventured to suggest that they might pass round the battery, and reach the boat below, or at least escape capture till the Middy had time to shell out the rebels a second time.

Mr. Hayswell adopted the suggestion; and the party succeeded, with the help of the negro who was waiting for the jubilee, in making their way as far as the cross-road, which led from the principal highway to a landing-place on the river. While the boat-expedition were looking for the cotton-burners half a mile above, the rebel artillery company had returned by this road to their original position. Of course the enemy had a motive in leaving the earthwork, and a motive in returning to it. The subject was rather dark to Mr. Hayswell; but the fact was undeniable.

Meanwhile, the shells from the Middy were dropping into the earthwork, and doing terrible execution among the rebels. About the time our party reached the road, they had got about enough of it, and were on the point of retiring again, probably satisfied that they had “waked up the wrong customer” when they attacked the little Middy. Now, it was very unfortunate for our people on shore that this result had been reached at this particular moment; for the retreating graybacks instantly discovered the blue-jackets, and, with a whoop and a yell, dashed forward for the purpose of capturing them.

Resistance was useless; and Mr. Hayswell ordered the men to run for their lives; of which permission they promptly availed themselves. Most of them attempted to make a sweep round the road, and reach the boats, where the rebels followed them. Jack prudently retreated in another direction; and, reaching a gin-house, crawled in, and stowed himself away among the machinery.

The guns of the Middy still played a lively tune, and Jack was in hope that his companions had escaped. He remained in his concealment until he thought the rebels must have retired, and then crept out. No firing had been heard for some time; and he stealthily moved towards the river, confident that his progress would not be interrupted. But this was a day of mistakes; and our hero soon found that he had miscalculated his chances. The rebels had ceased firing, because their twelve-pounders only drew the steamer’s fire, which they found too much for them, without injuring her.

While he was slowly and cautiously making his way toward the river, he was suddenly and very unexpectedly accosted by a couple of graybacks.

“Halt!” said one of them, stepping in front of our sailor-boy.

Jack did halt: he could not well help halting, unless he concluded to step over the rebels in his path. They had been concealed behind a mound of earth, and were either watching for him, or observing the movements of the Middy.

“Lay down your arms!” added the rebel speaker, elevating a musket, and taking aim at him.

Perhaps Jack was reckless; on the whole, we rather think he was: for, instead of obeying the order, he drew his revolver, and fired at the soldier who addressed him. Of course, the grayback discharged his musket; and Jack felt something on his left shoulder very much like a saw drawn along the skin. But he was not killed,--he was sure of this,--and immediately fired another barrel of the revolver, which caused the assiduous rebel to drop. Yet Jack was sure he was not killed; for he heard him swear after he fell.

There was no time just then to balance probabilities: and our blue-jacket, concluding that the rebels were in force at the earthwork, decided to change his base; which is always considered a very difficult operation in the midst of an engagement. In the present instance, it consisted only of wheeling about, and running away in the opposite direction; which has often been the sum and substance of the same manœuvre when conducted on a larger scale.

Jack ran till he came to the mansion, being chased by the uninjured rebel of the couple. He dodged several times, and at last threw his pursuer off the track. As he doubled up under the lee of the big house, he saw a cellar-door open; through which, as the place looked inviting, he entered without asking permission.