Marcy the Blockade Runner

by Harry Castlemon

"It makes no difference how they got the news so long as they got it," exclaimed Allison. "You talk and act as though you don't want to believe it."

"It is no concern of yours how I talk and act, you stay-at-home blow-hard. My common sense will not let me believe any such reports, which are not reports at all, but something those newspaper men made up all out of their own heads, on purpose to give such fellows as you a subject to talk about. Some of the fleet may have sprung a leak—probably they did if they were not seaworthy; but it wasn't in a gale. I watched the weather closely last night, and if there had been a blow outside we should have felt some of the force of it," said Jack. He spoke calmly enough, but he gave Allison such a look that the latter did not think it safe to say another word until the brothers were well on their way toward home.

During the rest of the day Jack and Marcy did little else but stroll about the grounds and talk—they had no heart for work of any sort. Every time Jack took out his watch he would offer some such remark as this: "If the expedition has had no bad luck, it ought to be off such and such a place by this time;" and at three in the afternoon he electrified his brother by declaring confidently: "Now the ships are off Hatteras, and are probably looking about for a good place to put the troops ashore." And subsequent events proved that he guessed pretty close to the mark, for history says, "By two o'clock on Tuesday the fleet arrived off Hatteras, and the Monticello was despatched to reconnoiter the position, and to look out a suitable landing-place."

Thus far everything had gone well. The weather was all that could be desired, and the hearts of the loyal people along that coast beat high with hope; but when Jack Gray drew the window curtain on Wednesday morning, he turned to his brother with a look of disappointment on his face.

"They will probably try to land some of the troops to-day to cut off the retreat of the Fort Hatteras garrison after the war ships have whipped them," said he. "But if they don't get about it pretty soon, I am afraid they'll not make it. It's going to blow by-and-by, and if the wind comes from the southeast, as it generally does, the ships will have to make an offing to secure their own safety."

And that was just the way things turned out. That morning some of General Butler's troops were landed a few miles from the forts under cover of some of the gunboats, while the others opened a hot fire upon the fortifications. The battle thus commenced lasted from nine o'clock until almost night, and then Fort Clark was abandoned, while the flag was hauled down on Fort Hatteras in token of surrender, whereupon the Monticello steamed into the inlet; but when she came within a few hundred yards of the fort, the heavy guns of the Confederates opened upon her with such terrible effect that she was badly cut up, and in danger of sinking. The man in command of the fort who was guilty of this act of treachery was Commodore Barron, formerly of the United States Navy. He would have scorned to do such a thing while the old flag waved above him, but when he threw off his allegiance to the government he had sworn to defend, he threw off his manhood with it. But he gained nothing by it. The battle was fiercely renewed by the Union forces, and the next day Commodore Barron hoisted the white flag and surrendered himself and his garrison unconditionally. In going off to the fleet he was obliged to pass close under the guns of the Wabash, a fine vessel which, six months before, he had himself commanded with honor.

While these events were taking place at Hatteras Inlet, Marcy and his brother remained at home, waiting with as much patience as they could to see how the battle was going to end. They knew there was a battle going on, for they heard about it when they went to the post-office on Thursday morning; and if they had believed all that was told them, they would have gone home very much disheartened. One man assured them (and he got his information from his papers) that the remnant of the fleet, that is to say all the vessels that had not been wrecked when the expedition left Fortress Monroe, had made its appearance in due time, begun the assault in the most gallant manner, and the few that had not been sunk or disabled by the seventeen heavy guns of the forts, had been scattered by the gale. The flag of the Confederacy waved triumphant, and Hatteras Inlet was yet open to blockade-runners.

When the two were on their way home, and each had read all he cared to read in papers that did not give any reliable information, Marcy inquired:

"How much of those stories do you believe?"

"Not quite half," replied Jack. "Perhaps some of the attacking fleet were sunk; they are liable to be when they go into action. But I believe that if our fellows were whipped, they were whipped by the gale and not by the forts. We ought to hear something definite in the course of a few days."