True To His Colors

by Harry Castlemon

CHAPTER XV.

FORCED INTO THE SERVICE.

Marcy Gray thought he had watched the movements of his native State pretty closely since the result of the presidential election became known, and perhaps he had; but there were some things connected with her recent history that must have slipped his mind, or he would have seen at once that the government at Washington was justified in closing her ports to the world. The State had been in armed rebellion ever since the month of January, when her local authorities committed treason by seizing the forts along her coast. It is true that her Governor disavowed the action, offered to restore the forts on condition that they should not be garrisoned by United States troops, and that the proposition was accepted; and it is also true that the State forces very soon took possession of the forts again, this time acting under the Governor's authority. The latter's refusal to send troops to the aid of the national government proved him to be as much of a rebel as the Governor of South Carolina was.

"So North Carolina is no whit better than the States that have joined the Confederacy, is she?" said Marcy, when his mother had reminded him of all these things. "But there's a great difference between talking and doing," he added, wisely. "Three thousand miles make a pretty long coast, the first thing you know, and I don't believe Uncle Sam has ships enough to guard it. I'll bet you that when the blockade is established, I can take the Fairy Belle and slip out and in as often as I feel like it. It will be nothing but a paper blockade; but if it could be made effectual, it would send the price of things up so that you couldn't reach them with a ten-foot pole, would it not?"

Blockading more than three thousand miles of sea-coast, some portions of which were noted for sudden and violent storms, was a gigantic undertaking, and Marcy Gray was not the only one who did not think the attempt would prove successful. To begin with, there were only ninety vessels of all classes in the United States navy, and of the forty-two in commission all except twelve had been sent to foreign stations on purpose to have them out of the way when they were wanted. Of the vessels comprising the home squadron, all except four were in the Gulf of Mexico, where they stood a fine chance of falling into the hands of the secessionists. The officers, who had been educated at the expense of the government, and who had taken a solemn oath to support that government, were so badly tinctured with disloyalty that the authorities did not know whom to trust, some of the best men in the service, the gallant Porter among the rest, being suspected of disunion sentiments. During the time that elapsed between March 4 and July 5, two hundred and fifty-nine officers resigned their commissions and went over to the Confederacy. Some of them, who had been entrusted with commands, had the grace to give their vessels up to the government instead of surrendering them into the hands of the secessionists, and one Southern writer declared, with some disgust, that they carried their notions of honor altogether too far when they did it. His exact language was:

"If a sense of justice had prevailed at the separation of the States, a large portion of the ships of the navy would have been turned over to the South; and this failing to be done, it may be questionable whether the Southern naval officers in command would not have been justified in bringing their ships with them, which it would have been easy for them to do."

But the trouble was, the government never acknowledged that there had been any "separation of the States." The war-ships belonged to the nation, and not to a discontented portion of it, and were needed to aid in enforcing the laws that had been trampled under-foot.

In spite of all these disadvantages the loyal people of the North went resolutely to work, and before the fourth day of July the blockade was rendered so effectual that "foreign nations could not evade it and were obliged to acknowledge its legality." And this was done, too, after Norfolk navy yard, with its immense stores of munitions of war, twenty-five hundred pieces of heavy ordnance, and all its ships, save one, had been doomed to destruction by the perfidious officers who surrounded and advised its loyal but too credulous commander. It was something to be proud of.

But we have anticipated events a little. On the day Marcy Gray went to Nashville after the mail the blockade was not established, except on paper; there was not a ship of war on the coast so far as he knew; Hatteras Inlet was still open to the world, and privateers and coasting vessels were free to go and come as often as they pleased. Up to this time such a thing as a privateer had scarcely been heard of, but they appeared as if by magic when it became known that President Davis had invited applications for letters of marque and reprisal from good Southerners who were able and willing to fit out armed vessels to prey upon our commerce. The first one that attracted any attention was the Savannah, which ran out of Charleston on the 2d of June, and was shortly afterward captured by a ship of war that she mistook for a merchantman; but she was not the first privateer to operate in Southern waters. As early as May 7, several light-draught steamers, mounting two or three guns each, were hastily fitted out at New Orleans, and brought in prizes that were taken off the mouths of the Mississippi. There were also some along the coast, principally sailing-vessels, and although they did not succeed in making a name for themselves or in spreading much alarm among our merchant marine, they made a few good hauls. One of them was fitted out in Seven Mile Creek, not more than a mile from Mrs. Gray's plantation, and, wide-awake as Marcy thought himself to be, he never knew a thing about it until she was almost ready to sail. Then he found it out through her owner who came up to see him. He was sitting on the porch when the man came up the walk, and something told him that he had come there for no good purpose.

"What in the world does Lon Beardsley want here?" said Marcy to his mother, who was sitting near by. "He hasn't been to see me since I came from Barrington, and I don't think he would come now if he wasn't up to some meanness."