Marcy, the Refugee

by Harry Castlemon

"If things wasn't just as they are, missus," said one, "we'd give it a cheer; asking your pardon and the deck's for speaking when I wasn't spoke to."

"But our guns will cheer it in the morning, and they will make more noise than we could," observed another. "Likewise asking pardon for speaking."

At this moment Marcy appeared, bundled up ready for his trip to the coast, and carrying in his hand a valise, which contained, among other things, the box that held Captain Benton's money. It was all in gold, too; for at that time gold was as plenty as scrip in the Confederacy, and Captain Beardsley, ignorant as he was on some points, was much too shrewd a man of business to take paper money when he could have what he called the "hard stuff" for the asking. Had the Hollins been captured one short year later, Marcy would have been obliged to take his share of the prize money in scrip, and Captain Benton might have thought himself lucky if he had received twenty cents on the dollar.

When the blue-jackets had disposed of everything there was on the trays, either by eating it themselves or putting it into the bosom of their shirts, to be divided with the guards who had been left in charge of the boats, and Marcy had stowed his Union flag in his valise, there was nothing to detain them longer. The master's mate marched the squad away while Mr. Watkins lingered a moment, cap in hand, to say good-by to the woman whose quiet courage had excited his admiration.

"Take good care of my boy, sir," said Mrs. Gray, as if she thought the officer could give Marcy a safe station in action, or protect him from the shot and shell that would soon be shrieking about his ears. "Remember he is all I have to give you."

"I'll have an eye upon him, madam, and upon your other boy as well, when I find out where he is," replied Mr. Watkins. "We are not pressing men into our service, and I know I can safely say that Marcy will be permitted to return to his home as soon as we can get along without him."

"I shall have that promise to console me during his absence," said Mrs. Gray. "Good-by, Marcy. When you come back to me I want you to be able to say that you did your duty. Oh, is there no way in which this dreadful state of affairs can be brought to an end?" she cried, once more giving way to her tears when she felt Marcy's arm closing around her waist.

"Certainly there is," answered the officer. "The Richmond authorities can end this war in an hour by telling their soldiers to lay down their arms and stop fighting the government. That would be an easy thing for them to do, and it is all we ask of them. Good-by, Mrs. Gray. I trust we may meet again under pleasanter circumstances."

The executive turned away as he spoke, leaving the young pilot alone with his mother. He did not prolong the leave-taking, but brought it to an end as quickly as he could, shook hands with the three darkies, whose laughter was now changed to weeping, looked around for Morris and Julius, neither of whom was in sight, and in two minutes more was marching by Mr. Watkins's side along the road that led past the ruins of Captain Beardsley's house. If Marcy remembered that his old captain was one of the best pilots for those waters that could be found anywhere he did not think to speak of it, nor did he take more than passing note of the fact that there was another squad of sailors standing in the road in front of Beardsley's gate. They seemed to be waiting for Mr. Watkins, for an officer walked up and exchanged a few low, hurried words with him. Marcy afterward thought that the barking of Beardsley's dogs, and the shrill frightened voices of the house servants and field-hands which came faintly from the direction of the quarter, ought to have told him that something unusual had been going on there, but he did not pay very much attention to the sounds. He was thinking of his mother. "Very good, sir," said Mr. Watkins, in response to the officer's whispered communication. "Make all haste to the boats and shove off; but preserve silence, and keep the line well closed up."

The officer, accompanied by Doctor Patten's boy Jonas, went back to his own squad, which at once moved into the woods. That of Mr. Watkins immediately followed, led by the master's mate, the executive and Marcy bringing up the rear as before; but it was not until the men were all embarked and the four boats were well on their way down the creek, that they had opportunity to exchange a word with each other. Mr. Watkins's cutter led the way, Jonas occupying his old place in the bow, and passing his instructions to the coxswain in a whisper. The sailors bent to their work with a will, and the boats moved swiftly on their course; but the muffled oars were dipped so carefully, and feathered so neatly, that there was no sound heard save the slight swishing of the water alongside. Feeling entirely satisfied with the way in which he had carried out the instructions of his superior, Mr. Watkins settled back on his elbow in the stern-sheets and addressed Marcy in low and guarded tones.