CHAPTER XXIX.

THE BLOCKADE RUNNER.

The water on that portion of the coast of Florida to which the Middy had been ordered is very shallow. The shoals extend out from the land about sixteen miles; and, six miles from shore, there was not, in many places, more than a foot of water between the Middy’s keel and the bottom. Her light draught, and weatherly qualities, had been her principal recommendations for the service on which she had been sent; but, for in-shore duty, she was well-nigh useless without a pilot, which she had, thus far, been unable to obtain.

The Suwanee River has two outlets. In front of these there is a long, circular reef, outside of which the Middy lay. The blockade-runner had approached from the direction of Cedar Keys, and entered the river by the most southern of the two outlets, passing inside of the Middy.

The negro who had boarded the steamer said he had been after oysters. He had been on the lookout for a Government vessel for weeks; for, as he had declared, he “wanted to run away very bad.” Hundreds of slaves had come off to the fleet in various places; and Clem--this was the negro’s name--said there were thousands more who wanted to escape from slavery. There was no difficulty in believing all this, and nothing very strange in Clem’s coming off just when and where he did. His color was a sufficient guaranty for his loyalty, but not for his skill as a pilot in those difficult and dangerous waters.

Captain McBride gave him some supper, and supplied him with clothing; for the poor fellow was not very far from naked. He questioned him very closely in regard to his knowledge of the navigation of the river and the contiguous waters. Clem answered that he had been a fireman on a river-steamer for ten years; had been fishing and oystering for five more; and, finally, that he had several times piloted a steamer, drawing three or four feet of water, from the Keys to Clay Landing; and he wished he “was jes as sartin of gwine to heaben as he was of gwine frew dem channels.”

The Middy started, in the fog and darkness, to pass the bar; though not till the captain had carefully consulted all his authorities on board in regard to the channel, and ascertained that the spring-tides were then prevailing.

“I’m going to trust you, Clem,” said the captain, as he conducted him to the wheel-house; “but woe betide you if you get us into trouble!”

“Golly, massa! What’s dis nigger gwine to git you into trouble fur? I kin take de steamboat up to Clay Landin’; and dat’s fur as five foot kin go. Git you into trouble, massa cap’n! Golly! I guess dis chile git hisself into trouble fus. Yah, yah! What you s’pose ole massa say if he cotch Clem takin’ Yankee gunboat up de riber? I s’peck he broke his back if he cotch him, jes as shore as you was a white man!”

“Well, never mind that now,” added Captain McBride, who could not help seeing the force of the black pilot’s argument. “Go into the wheel-house, now, and tell the quartermaster how to steer.”

“Sar!” exclaimed Clem, opening his mouth from ear to ear.

“Give these men your orders, and they will observe them.”

“Clem gib dese gemmen de orders?”

“Certainly.”

“Cotch Clem doin’ such a t’ing as dat, massa cap’n! Niger gib orders to de white man! Yah, yah, yah!” and the pilot doubled up and laughed till the waistbands of his new trousers were in danger of being ruptured.

“Come, Clem, we are losing the tide,” said the captain.

“Yes, sar!” exclaimed he, springing to the wheel. “Whar does you stroke dem bells?”

“Here,” said Jack, pointing out the bell-pulls.

“If de gemman gib dis chile de wheel, he can steer hisself all alone.”

“Give him the wheel, quartermaster,” added the captain.

The black pilot stuck his head out of the window, as though he was trying to peer through the fog and gloom of the night. It certainly looked very hopeless; but the negro snuffed the air half a dozen times, and then confidently struck the bell to go ahead.

“Have you got your bearings?” demanded the captain nervously; for it looked like dubious business to go over a bar, with not more than six feet of water on it, in such a night as that.

“Yes, massa cap’n: I smell um,” replied Clem, gravely.

“You smell them, you black rascal! What do you mean by that?” roared the captain angrily; for he was disturbed by a strong suspicion that Clem was making game of him.

“Golly, massa cap’n, you frighten dis nigger out of his wits; and he won’t know de channel from de reef!”

“What do you mean by saying that you _smell_ your bearings?”

“Yes, massa, dat’s so: I smell de rotten isters ober on de point dar.”

The Middy now went ahead slowly. Clem was as confident as though it had been broad daylight, with a clear sky above him. Tom Longstone heaved a lead constantly.

“Quarter, less two!” said he as the steamer began to move.

“Dat’s all right dar,” said the black pilot. “Dis chile kin tell you de depf hisself, widout no soundin’.”

“And a half, one!” added Tom with emphasis.

“Yes, sar; and, de nex’ time you frow, find jes one fadom.”

“By the mark, one!” roared Tom, who thought it was about time to strike two bells.

“Rite on de bar, massa,” said Clem, thrusting his head out of the side-window, and taking three long snuffs. “Dar’s de pint ober dar.”

“By the mark, one!” repeated Tom as he threw the lead again.

“Needn’t sound no more down dar. Dis chile knows all about it hisself,” cried Clem, who appeared to think that the precaution was an imputation upon his skill or his loyalty.

But Tom did not suspend the operation; and soon the depth increased to eight feet.

“All right now, massa cap’n,” said Clem a few minutes later, as he fixed his eye on the compass.

The binnacle-lamp had been lighted: but it was not to be supposed that Clem knew anything about the compass; yet great was the astonishment of the captain when it was observed that now he steered entirely by that instrument.

“What is your course, Clem?” asked Captain McBride.

“No’th-east by no’th, massa,” replied the black pilot.

“Can you box the compass?”

“Yes, sar, no’th, no’th by east, nor’-nor’-east, no’th-east by no’th, nor’-east by east, east-nor’-east, east by no’th, east,” chattered Clem without hesitation.

“That will do. Where did you learn that?”

“’Board vessel down t’ de Keys.”

Clem was certainly a prize; and Captain McBride was duly grateful that this “intelligent contraband” had concluded to run away at the precise time he did.

“Steamer on the port-bow!” shouted the lookout on the forecastle.

“Dems ’em, massa cap’n; and de fort’s right ober dar,” said Clem, pointing out of the window.

“We had better not wake up the fort, if we can help it,” said the captain.

“I think not, sir,” added Mr. Dickey.

The fog was not quite so dense up the river as it had been outside; and the blockade-runner could be distinctly seen, at anchor. But there was a great deal of confusion on board of her, as it now appeared from the noise which reached the Middy. Probably her captain was not a little surprised to find a United States steamer at his heels on such a night and in such a place; and it must be acknowledged that Captain McBride was scarcely less surprised.

“Can you run alongside that steamer?” asked the captain of the pilot.

“No, sar: dat steamer don’t draw no more’n four foot ob water.”

“Clear away the first cutter, Mr. Dickey!” added the captain. “Send Mr. Brackett to board the steamer.”

In a few moments, the first cutter, as the starboard quarter-boat was designated, was pulling towards the blockade-runner. It contained, besides the second-lieutenant, an engineer, a master’s mate, and fifteen seamen, all armed to the teeth. As the boat approached the prize, a rocket went up from her forecastle, and she began to move up the river again. But, before she had got full headway on, Mr. Brackett boarded her. No resistance was made, though some of the crew jumped overboard, and swam towards the shore.

The rocket had done its work, and the battery opened fire; but the aim of the gunners seemed to be half a mile farther up the river, and no notice was taken of the firing by the Middy. The prize was brought alongside the steamer, and her crew put in irons to prevent them from doing mischief. Mr. Brackett was directed to remain on board of her with his prize-crew; and Jack was ordered to her wheel, with instructions to follow the Middy. Both vessels reached the bar in safety; but there was not water enough for the little gunboat to go over, and she was compelled to anchor. The Olympus--for Clem had been correct in his supposition--was supplied with provisions and stores, and ordered to Key West. An engineer and two first-class firemen were sent on board, who, with her negro firemen, formed a sufficient force for the engine. The master’s mate and six seamen also went in her.

The Olympus was a river-steamer of light draught. She was loaded with a valuable cargo of hardware and clothing, which she had just brought up from Cedar Keys, where it had been landed by a schooner hailing from Nassau. Captain McBride had some doubts whether she would reach Key West; but nothing else could be done with her; and he had full confidence in Mr. Brackett’s skill and prudence. She was fortunately favored with good weather; and, at the end of three weeks, the prize-crew returned to the Middy by a vessel bound to Pensacola.

“Now, massa cap’n,” said Clem, when the Olympus had departed, “dar’s two boats loaded with cotton up de riber, wat’s gwin down to de Keys to load de schooners dar.”

“Where are they?”

“Up to Clay Landing, massa.”

“Can we go up there?”

“Yes, sar, ’spose de fort let you go.”

“We can take care of the fort.”

“And de gorillas, massa?”

“The what?”

“Dem fellers dat goes about on hoss-back cutting people’s froats,--dem dat fired on de boats down to de Keys.”

“Oh! the guerillas?”

“Yes, sar.”

“We can take care of them too.”

“Take de gum-boat right up dar, den; but de gorillas done shoot de man at de wheel!” added Clem with a shudder.

“Well, we have iron screens to protect the helmsman.”

The Middy remained at her anchorage above the bar till forenoon of the next day, when a southerly wind, which had prevailed for several days, had raised the water nearly two feet above the ordinary level of high tide. The fog had disappeared; and, under these favorable circumstances, the little gunboat sailed on her cruise up the river, where no armed steamer had gone before. The iron screens had been put up to protect the gunners and the helmsman, and every preparation made for a stormy time.

Clem was now as lively as though he had been going to a ball instead of a battle. He opened his mouth wide enough to shame the alligators, and seemed to rejoice continually at his good fortune in escaping to the “gum-boat.” From the paymaster’s stores he had been rigged out in a complete suit of seaman’s clothes; and the change of dress certainly wrought a marvellous revolution in his personal appearance. He was apparently forty years of age, as black as charcoal, and very far from being a handsome man. He had no knowledge of anything except what related to his particular sphere of duty. He didn’t know what caused the war; but he was sure it would free the slaves. He had been down to Key West several times in a schooner; but his travels did not appear to have enlarged his understanding. He was always good-natured, docile, and funny. He could not speak without exciting a laugh; and at once became a favorite with both officers and crew, all of whom had a high respect for him on account of his skill as a pilot.

Clem took his place at the wheel; and the Middy ascended the river, with the American flag flying at the stern, to the intense disgust of “Secesh” on its banks. In due time, the fort opened upon her very spitefully; but its guns proved to be miserably inefficient in range, which suggested to Captain McBride his proper course. Dropping his anchor with a spring on the cable, out of reach of the enemy’s guns, he proceeded in a leisurely manner to knock the works to pieces with his thirty-two-pounder and one quarter-gun.