CAPTAIN DE BANYAN FINDS AN OLD FRIEND
Both Somers and De Banyan flew to the rescue, and made a most enthusiastic attempt to check the fire; but the raging element was now past control. The flames spread through the combustible material which had been stored on the deck; and they were compelled to abandon the ill-starred steamer with the utmost precipitation, in order to save their own lives.
De Banyan had rolled up an old newspaper, making of it a kind of torch, some three feet in length, which he had inserted in a mass of pitch-wood shavings, and set the end on fire. It had burned long enough to remove suspicion from him; and, when the pilot and crew went on shore, Captain Osborn had no idea of the trick of which he had been made the victim. Our scouts kept up appearances in the most remarkable manner, and Somers was only afraid that his zealous companion would overdo the matter.
“What do you mean by that, Captain Osborn?” demanded Somers, as he shook the cinders from his clothes in the presence of the rebel officer. “Did you intend to sacrifice our lives?”
“Yes; burn us up before we had time to leave the old hulk!” added De Banyan furiously. “I thought we were to light the fire ourselves.”
“I didn’t do it,” replied Captain Osborn.
“You didn’t? Who did do it, then?” persisted Somers.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I don’t know; but, in my opinion, you did it yourself.”
“You are an idiot! Do you think I would destroy the work of my own hands?” added the rebel warmly.
“Well, I supposed you fired the train so as to be sure the thing was done right.”
“You are a fool, or else you didn’t suppose any such thing.”
“I didn’t know but what you had one of those clock machines, that touch a thing off at a certain time. Well, how did it happen, then?”
“I don’t know; perhaps from a spark from the fire. No matter how it was done now. It is done, and can’t be helped. I have lost the satisfaction of seeing half the Yankee fleet burnt up. I would rather have given a year’s pay than have had this accident happen.”
“Haven’t they got most ready for the Yankee fleet above here?” asked Somers as carelessly as he could.
“What do you mean?”
“They are building batteries up above, to knock the Yankees into pieces, aren’t they?”
“Perhaps they are.”
“Well, Captain Osborn, I don’t believe your plan would have succeeded if the steamer hadn’t caught afire.”
“Don’t you? Why not?”
“Suppose the Yankees had stopped us on our way up, and come on board the steamer. Don’t you think they would have known what she was for?”
“Of course they would. Why didn’t you fit out your steamer up the river?”
“We haven’t so many steamers that we can afford to burn them up. We took this one because she happened to be in the creek, where the Yankees could capture her at any time they pleased.”
“It wouldn’t need a steamer above the fleet; a raft would do just as well. I think I shall go up the river, and see what can be done. Well, boys,” added Somers to the men in the boat, “there will be no fun to-night, and you may as well go home.”
As this order was in conformity with previous instructions, the men pulled down the creek to its mouth, where they could remain concealed till their officers returned.
By the light of the burning steamer, Captain Osborn had attentively scanned the features of the pilot and his companion, apparently for the purpose of determining where he had seen the former. As they had both dressed themselves for the occasion, they submitted to his scrutiny without fear. When he had finished his survey, he mounted his horse, which was fastened to a tree near the creek, and had become very restive as the glaring fire scattered burning cinders near him. As the rider had no further use for our enterprising operatives, he bestowed no further notice upon them, and rode off to report to his commanding officer the failure of the hopeful enterprise.
“Well, we have done some good by coming over here,” said Captain de Banyan as the officer galloped up the road above the creek.
“Hush, captain!” replied Somers. “You forget where you are.”
“No, I don’t; we are alone.”
“Perhaps not; the trees have ears sometimes.”
“Well, where are you going now?”
“Up the river. We will take a walk up to the batteries, if there are any there.”
They proceeded in the direction indicated for about three miles without being molested, or even challenged by a sentinel. The Army of the Potomac had been on the other side of the river nearly a month, and had ceased to be a curiosity to the rebel inhabitants in the vicinity; and like sensible people, as they were in this respect if in no other, they devoted the hours of darkness to sleep. On the shore opposite the camp, they found a battery of artillery. Rude field-works had been constructed near the water, on which the guns of the company had been placed. Our travelers were too modest to make the acquaintance of the rebels, and kept at a respectful distance from them, crawling on the ground near enough to ascertain the force of the enemy.
Taking to the fields for greater safety, the scouts went up the river several miles farther, without making any discoveries worthy of notice. The object of the excursion had been fully accomplished; and they began to retrace their steps towards the creek, where the boat was waiting their return. When we are well employed, time passes away very rapidly; and our adventurers had taken no note of its passage. Before they had made a single mile, the bright streaks of day in the east warned them that they had remained too long for their own safety.
The prospect of being examined by rebel officers in broad daylight was not pleasant; and, increasing their speed, they walked by the shortest way towards the creek. When they had passed the battery of artillery, they abandoned the fields, through which they could make but slow progress, for the road. They had three miles farther to go, and it was now nearly sunrise.
“I think we must have lost two or three hours,” said Somers as they hastened on their way. “I had no idea that it was more than two o’clock in the morning when we turned about.”
“Nor I,” replied De Banyan. “We must have spent two or three hours in crawling on the ground about that battery.”
“I don’t see where the time is all gone.”
“It goes fast when we are busy. When I was in the Crimea——”
“Never mind the Crimea now,” protested Somers, who was in no mood for his companion’s fibs.
“Don’t be crusty, Somers.”
“I did not mean to be crusty; but you know my opinion about those stories of the Crimea and the Italian war, and I don’t think it is a good plan to talk so much over here.”
“As you please; it is your turn to speak next.”
“I meant no offense.”
“I know you didn’t, Somers; but you reproved me, and I can only hold my peace; for you are the commander of this expedition.”
“You know I like you as a brother; but I don’t like those silly yarns about your impossible achievements. Hark! What’s that?”
This last remark was caused by the sound of horses’ feet behind them; and our travelers looked back with eager interest to ascertain what was approaching. It was a body of cavalry, which had just swept round a bend of the road, and was now in plain sight of them.
“That won’t do,” said De Banyan with energy. “We must conceal ourselves.”
“I think they have seen us, and we may as well make the best of it. If we hide, they will certainly suspect us.”
“They have not seen us yet. They are half a mile off,” replied the captain, as he retired to the field by the side of the road.
Somers followed him, though he did not fully approve the policy of his friend. They walked a short distance till they came to a covert of bushes, in which they concealed themselves.
“I think we have made a mistake. The dog always bites when you attempt to run away from him,” said Somers.
“I don’t think they saw us,” persisted De Banyan. “If they did, we can tell as good a story here as we could in the road.”
“I always believe in facing the music. I have found that impudence will carry a man a great deal farther and a great deal faster than his legs can.”
“Perhaps you are right, Somers. When I was in Italy——”
“Bah! Don’t say Italy or Crimea again till we reach the other side of the river,” interposed Somers, who was too seriously affected by the perils of their situation to be willing to listen to any of his companion’s hallucinations.
“Just as you please, Somers,” answered the captain, unmoved by the rebuff; “but, when I was doing scout duty before the battle of Magenta, I saw the advance of the Austrians coming up behind me. I crawled into a haystack, and remained there while the whole army of the Austrians, about four hundred thousand men, passed by me.”
Somers could not but smile at the infatuation of his friend, who at such a perilous moment could indulge in such a vicious practice as that of inventing great stories. He did not even ask him how long it took the Austrian army to pass the haystack, whether they had haystacks in Italy, nor if it was probable that such an army would pass over a single road. He waited patiently, or impatiently, for the approach of the rebel cavalry, which soon reached the road near the bushes where they were hidden.
To his consternation, they came to a dead halt; and he could see the men gazing earnestly in the direction they had retired. Then half a dozen of the troopers entered the field, and rode directly towards the covert of bushes.
“We are caught!” whispered Somers.
“That’s so. Just after the battle of Palestro, when I——”
“Hush!”
“Hush it is,” replied De Banyan, as coolly as though he had been under his shelter tent on the other side of the James.
Taking a knife from his pocket, he began to cut away at a straight bush which grew near him, and was thus busily employed when the soldiers reached the spot. Somers stretched himself on the ground, and waited the issue of the event; deciding to let his companion, who had got him into the scrape, extricate him from it. The coolness of the captain, and the peculiar manner he assumed, convinced him that he had some resources upon which to draw in this trying emergency.
“Hallo, there!” shouted one of the troopers savagely, as though he intended to carry consternation in the tones of his voice.
“How are you, old hoss?” inquired De Banyan, as impudently as though he had been the lord of the manor.
“What ye doin’ in here?” demanded the horseman, as he forced his animal into the bushes far enough to obtain a full view of both of the fugitives.
“Well, old hoss, if Heaven gin you two eyes, what were they gin to ye fur?” replied the captain, still hacking away at the sapling.
“What d’ye run for when you saw us coming?”
“Didn’t run.”
“Yes, yer did.”
“You know best, then.”
“What d’ye come in here fur?”
“Don’t ye see what I came in here for?” replied De Banyan, as he finished cutting off the bush, and proceeded to trim off the branches.
“Who are you?”
“Well, old hoss, I’m the brother of my father’s oldest son.”
“What’s yer name?”
“Hain’t got any; had a difficulty with the district attorney in our county, and lost it.”
“Come out here, and show yerself. The cap’n wants to see yer down to the road.”
“Just goin’ down there. Say, you hain’t got a spare hoss in your caravan, have you? I’m gettin’ amazin’ tired.”
“Come out, both of you. I can’t stay here all day.”
“Needn’t wait for me; I’m in no hurry,” answered the captain, as he slowly emerged from the bushes, followed by Somers.
“But I shall wait for yer; and, if yer don’t step along lively, I’ll let yer know how this cheese-knife feels.”
“Don’t distress yourself to do anything of the sort,” said De Banyan; and he hobbled along on his new-made cane.
A walk of a few rods brought them to the road, where the commander of the company was impatiently awaiting their arrival. He looked daggers at the travelers, and evidently intended to annihilate them by the fierceness of his visage.
“Give an account of yourself,” said he.
“We’re no account,” replied De Banyan.
“I’ve seen you before,” continued the cavalry commander, gazing intently at the captain.
“No; you saw me behind.”
“That sounds like you. Why, really, it is Barney Marvel.”
“Who?” demanded De Banyan with an expression of humor.
“Barney Marvel! Don’t you know your own name? Give us your hand, Barney,” added the officer, as he extended his own.
“Well, cap’n, perhaps I’m Barney what’s-his-name; but, ’pon my word, I don’t think I am;” and De Banyan wore a troubled expression, even to the eyes of his anxious companion.
“Don’t be modest about it, Barney. You left us rather unceremoniously; but I hope you’ll be able to show that it was all right.”
“’Pon my word it was all right, though I haven’t the least idea what you mean.”
“Haven’t you, indeed, Barney?” laughed the captain, who, in spite of his present happy manner, was evidently as much puzzled as the other party.
“’Pon my word, I haven’t.”
“Do you mean to say you are not Barney Marvel, formerly a lieutenant in the Third Tennessee?”
“Not if I know it.”
“I suppose I understood your position, Barney; but I advise you not to deny facts.”
“I never deny facts, captain; you haven’t told me your name yet.”
“No need of that. Now, be honest, Barney. Tell us all about it. There wasn’t an officer in the regiment that didn’t mourn you as a brother when you left us.”
“I’m very much obliged to them,” replied De Banyan lightly; but even Somers began to have some doubts in regard to his popular friend.
“How are Magenta, Solferino, and the Crimea, now-a-days?” demanded the officer.
“Never heard of such places. Don’t know much about geography,” answered the captain.
Somers was confounded when the officer repeated these words, which was proof positive that he was the man whom the captain represented him to be.
“Sergeant, dismount, and tell me if you find B. M. on that man’s right arm.”
The sergeant obeyed, and, with the assistance of another, bared the captain’s arm, where they found, plainly marked in India ink, the initials B. M.