Marcy, the Refugee

by Harry Castlemon

"I don't care what you do to Morris so long's you let Marse Mahcy be," said the black man, who was almost ready to cry when he saw the boy standing before him as sound as he was when he left home. "The Yankees done kill him—jes' look at that hand of hisn—and now you rebels done pester him plum to death."

"Go 'long now, Uncle Morris. We aint worrying on him and he will tell you so," replied Hawkins good-naturedly. "But our critter-fellers are round picking up all the darkies they can find and making soldiers of 'em, and you had best watch out. Don't go outside the two-mile limit, or, better yet, don't put your nose out of doors after dark."

Hawkins and his comrades walked away, and old Morris turned a very badly frightened face toward Marcy.

"Don't mind them," said the latter. "They're soldiers, and of course they must have their fun. You need not think that the rebels will ever put faith enough in you black ones to trust you with muskets in your hands."

"They'd better not," said Morris. "How you come here, Marse Mahcy? I been waiting two days for you."

The boy explained that Julius had found him in the creek and helped him home, and the old fellow did not appear to be well pleased with the news, for he walked off, muttering to himself and shaking his head with every step he took, to bring up his mule and Marcy's horse. The latter did not wait for him, but mounted and rode homeward; and he was in so anxious and unsettled a frame of mind that he could not bring himself to take his papers from his pocket. The situation was something he had never dreamed of, and Marcy did not believe it would last for any length of time. The Confederate authorities would not permit enlisted men to roam at large through the country, talking as Hawkins had done, but would soon put a stop to it by some violent measures, and bring their disaffected soldiers to punishment at the same time. The paroled prisoner was angry over the result of the battles at Roanoke Island; he must have been or he would not have expressed himself so freely. And when Marcy reached home and talked the matter over with his mother, and became quieted down so that he could read his papers understandingly, he found that there were some high in authority who were angry over it also; General Wise for one, who said in his report that "Roanoke Island, being the key to all the rear defences of Norfolk, ought to have been defended at the cost of twenty thousand men." But General Wise did not stop there. He sent a protest to the Confederate Congress, censuring both the President and Secretary of War, and the upshot of the matter was that Mr. Benjamin became so unpopular that he was forced to resign. The general's letter also opened the eyes of the Confederate government to the fact that the people of North Carolina were not half as loyal to the cause as they ought to have been, and that something would have to be done about it. If the Southern men would not enter the army willingly, they must be compelled to come in; and this the government straightway proceeded to do. Almost the first move that was made brought about the thing that Marcy Gray most dreaded, and made a refugee of him.

CHAPTER XIV.

A YANKEE SCOUTING PARTY.

Marcy Gray served as pilot on Captain Benton's vessel for a period of ten days, counting from February 8 to the time the fleet set sail for Newbern; but the work the Burnside expedition had to do was not finished until April 26, when Fort Macon, in Georgia, surrendered, after a short, but brisk, bombardment. This fort was commanded by a nephew of the Confederate President, who, in response to a summons to surrender, declared that he would not yield until he had eaten his last biscuit. The Union commander thought that a man who could talk like that would surely do some good fighting, but he was disappointed. A few hours' pounding by gunboats and shore batteries brought the boastful rebel to his senses, and he was glad to escape further punishment by hauling down his own flag, and sending a white one up in place of it.

The Union forces were successful everywhere along the coast; not once did they meet with disaster. The nearest they came to it was when that terrible northeast gale struck them off Hatteras, and with that gale they had their longest and hardest battle. Of course, Marcy Gray did not get what he called "straight news" regarding these glorious victories, but his rebel neighbors confessed to defeat in every engagement, and that was all he wanted to know. But there was another thing that began troubling him now, and it was something he had not thought of. With the fall of Newbern, and the occupation of the principal towns by the Federal troops, the regular mails from the South were cut off, and, for a time, the village of Nashville had little communication with the outside world. Even rebel news, distorted, as it was, out of all semblance to the truth, was better than no news at all, and Marcy declared that there was but one thing left for him to do, and that was to ride around and gossip with the neighbors, as Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin did. His short experience aboard the gunboat filled him with martial ardor, and, if his mother had only been safely out of harm's way, he would have tried every plan he could think of to find Jack, and then he would have shipped on his vessel. Being shot at six hours out of twenty-four he thought was better than living as he was obliged to live now. If he were an enlisted man he would know pretty nearly what he had to face; now he had no idea of it, and that was another thing that troubled him. The news of the victories that were gained so rapidly, one after another, did much to keep up his spirits, but had the opposite effect upon Allison and Goodwin, who could not find words with which to express their disgust. These two, as we have said, spent all their waking hours riding about the settlement comparing notes, and going first to one man, and then to another, in the hope of hearing something encouraging; but they passed the most of their time with Beardsley, who seemed to be the best-informed man for miles around. Of course they did not place a great deal of faith in what the captain told them; but he was always ready to talk, and that was more than other people seemed willing to do. Since Ben Hawkins denounced him in the post-office, Beardsley did not ride around as much as he used to do. He thought he had better stay at home until the effect produced by the rebel soldier's speech had had time to wear away.