Within The Enemy's Lines, Oliver Optic [red scrolls of magic txt] 📗

right; come on board as soon as you can," added Captain Carboneer, as he walked away from the gangway.

Mindful of the peril of the situation, Christy walked leisurely back from the river, and soon joined Mr. Watts, who had been near enough to hear the conversation between the captain and the midshipman.

"That was done very handsomely, Christy," said the steward.

"There was no great difficulty in handling such a matter when one knew all about the plot as I did. The fault on the other side was that they did not examine the cabin of the Florence before they discussed their plans in the standing-room," replied 110 Christy, as he unfastened his horse, and sprang upon his back. "I have no time to spare now."

"There is nothing more to be done here, I believe," added Mr. Watts.

"Not a thing. You can ride back to the place where the Roman candles are planted, and you need not hurry about it, for the Vampire don't make more than four miles an hour. Now be particular to carry out my instructions to the letter, Mr. Watts; and you can see that a great deal depends upon which signal you may have occasion to give," added the midshipman.

"I understand what I am to do perfectly, and I will do my duty faithfully, you may be sure," replied the steward, as he mounted his horse.

Christy did not wait for him, but put his steed into a dead run on the moment. The road was only a cart-path, and it was so soft that the horse's hoofs made no noise to betray his movements to the enemy. He urged the willing beast to his utmost speed, for he was as much at home in the saddle as he was in the rigging of a ship. Before the Vampire had made another eighth of a mile, he had reached the place where 111 the boat had been left for his use. What to do with his horse was a question, for the report of the big gun would set him crazy. But he knew that the men must be at the house, and he turned the animal loose, satisfied that he would go to the stable without any guidance.

Springing into the boat, he pulled to the Bellevite. At the accommodation steps, he was challenged by Sampson, who demanded like one in authority who and what he was, for the experience of the evening had greatly sharpened his wits.

"Who is it?" he demanded, in a tone which implied his intention to have a satisfactory answer. "Advance and give the word."

"Give the word!" exclaimed Christy. "I have no word to give."

"Then you can't come on board," replied Sampson dogmatically.

"I am Christy Passford, and I have not heard about any word," protested the midshipman.

"You can't pour molasses down my back again," replied Sampson, with a self-satisfied air.

"Don't be a fool, Sampson," added Christy, as he climbed upon the steps, the lower part of which had been hoisted up.

112 "I have been a fool once, and I don't mean to be again," replied the sentinel. "On deck, there! Bring a lantern out of the engine-room!"

"Don't bring a lantern in sight!" protested Christy impatiently.

"What's the row there, Sampson?" called Paul Vapoor, mounting the rail, and looking through the darkness at the steps, down which the vigilant sentinel had descended more than half way to the water.

"This fellow says he is Christy Passford; and I don't know whether it is Christy or not," replied Sampson.

"Is that you, Christy?" asked Paul.

"Of course it is," replied the middy. "We are wasting time."

"He hasn't the word," added the sentinel.

"Pass him, Sampson; he is all right," said the engineer; and Christy rushed up the steps, and leaped down upon the deck of the steamer.

"I gave out a word for all who had to leave the ship for any purpose during the evening," Paul explained.

"Never mind that now," interposed the midshipman in command. "Have you plenty of steam on?"

113 "Enough to give her fifteen knots," replied the engineer. "The cable is buoyed, and the long gun loaded. I believe everything is in perfect order to carry out your instructions, though we did not point the gun when we loaded it, for I thought you would prefer to do that yourself," the engineer reported.

"All right, Paul," added Christy. "The steamer, whose name is the Vampire, is on her way up the river, and I should say she would reach the bend in about half an hour. Mr. Watts is down there, and I have arranged certain signals with him."

The midshipman made a careful examination for himself of the ship.

114 CHAPTER X A SHOT FROM THE LONG GUN

Christy Passford, as soon as he found that all the other preparations for the decisive event had been made, turned his attention to the aiming of the long gun. He had practised with it somewhat before; and in the ambitious spirit of a boy, he had often amused himself by sighting over the top of the piece.

There was no sort of duty on board of a vessel, even a war steamer, in which he had not done his best to make himself a proficient. He had done duty as an engineer, and even as a fireman. He had taken his trick at the wheel as a quartermaster, and there was nothing he had not done, unless it was to command a vessel, and he had done that on a small scale. Doubtless he had no inconsiderable portion of a boy's vanity, and he believed that he could do anything that anybody else could do; or if he was satisfied that he 115 could not, he studied and practised till he did believe it.

Be it vanity or pride, Christy certainly believed in himself to a very liberal extent, though his character was fortunately leavened with a large lump of modesty. What he believed, he believed for himself, and acted upon it for himself; so that he was not inclined to boast of his accomplishments, and permitted others to find out what he was rather than made it known in words himself. But his father had found it necessary to restrain him to some extent, and he had not pushed him forward as rapidly as he might have done till the dread notes of war were heard on the land and the sea; and then he thought it would be wrong to hold him back.

When Christy sighted along the great gun, he believed he could hit the Vampire almost to a certainty; but he was not self-sufficient, and did not often believe that he knew a thing better than any other person, and he was not above taking the advice and instruction of others. It was dark, but Christy had fixed upon an object at the bend below, of which he intended to make use in firing the gun. It was a tree which painted its outline 116 on the horizon, and the decisive moment was to come when the Vampire was in range with this tree. He adjusted the gun just as he wanted it, and he was satisfied it would do just what he required of it.

He was not inclined to act on his own judgment and skill alone, and he called Boxie, the old sheet-anchorman, who had been the captain of a gun years before the midshipman was born, and pointed out the tree to him, asking him to sight along the gun. He explained his plan to the old salt, and then asked his opinion.

"You have aimed it too high, Mr. Passford," said the veteran, after he had squinted a long time along the piece.

"How is it otherwise?" asked Christy.

"It is all right, sir; but the shot will pass over the steamer. Drop the muzzle a trifle, and the shot will hull her, if you pull the lockstring at the right time."

"I shall see that the string is pulled at the right time; thank you, Boxie," added Christy, without depressing the gun as the old man suggested, for he had a theory of his own which he intended to carry out.

117 "But the ship may change her position a trifle," added Boxie.

"Of course, I mean to sight the gun again at the very moment we fire," replied Christy, looking at his watch, though he was obliged to go into the engine-room to see what time it was.

It was after two, and the Vampire had had time enough to make the bend. Christy wondered if Captain Carboneer was not looking for the four men he had promised to put on board of the old steamer; but some promises are better broken than kept, and the midshipman thought this was one of them, though he did not consider the present occasion as any excuse for lies, or the failure to keep his word, in the indefinite future.

The acting commander of the Bellevite—for such the middy was, and no one disputed his authority—began to be very nervous at the non-appearance of the enemy. He was afraid that some mishap had befallen the Vampire; either that she had gone to the bottom or got aground, though he had heard Captain Carboneer say that he was a pilot for this part of the river.

Christy had mounted the gun carriage ready to take his final aim, and he had been there at least 118 half an hour. He was watching the point where the Roman candles had been planted, and he had perfect confidence in the judgment and fidelity of Mr. Watts. Boxie was stationed at the lock-string, and held it in his hand, ready to speed the great shot on its errand of destruction; but he hoped the midshipman would depress the muzzle of the gun before he was called upon to pull the string. The other sailors who had served on board of the Bellevite, and had been drilled in handling the guns, were all in their stations, ready to load the piece again as quickly as possible after it had been discharged.

The silence had become intense and painful to all, for apart from the messenger of death and devastation which was about to be hurled at the Vampire, the Bellevite was in danger of being captured, and had a resolute enemy in front of her. The safety of the pet steamer depended upon the skill and judgment of a mere boy, though everybody on board had entire confidence in him. But the supreme moment came soon enough.

"Christy sprang to the Gun."—Page 119.

A hardly perceptible light at the point he was so closely watching, first attracted the attention of Christy,—perhaps the lighting of the steward's 119 match. An instant later, the fireworks blazed up, and lighted up the smooth surface of the sleeping river. No doubt the conspirators, who had chosen darkness because their deeds were evil, were astounded to see so much light suddenly thrown upon their enterprise.

Christy sprang to the gun, took a hasty sight, which satisfied him that the position of the gun had not changed a particle. As the dark outline of the Vampire passed in range of the selected tree, the midshipman sprang down from the gun-carriage.

"Fire!" shouted he, in a determined though not very loud tone.

It was a tremendous explosion, and the echoes rolled out from the hills as though they were armed with heavy guns, and were taking part in the conflict. Probably the rattling windows and the shaking frames of the houses roused all the sleepers within a mile of the ship.

The Bellevite was enveloped in the smoke from the discharge, and though Christy mounted the carriage again to obtain a better view, he could see nothing, for there was not wind enough to sweep it away at once. But the young commander 120 watched, with almost as much interest and anxiety as before, the signal station he had established. But there was no occasion for desperate haste, for the gun was ready for use a second time if the first shot had failed to do its work. On the other hand, if the Vampire was disabled, she would stay where she was, or drift down the river with the turn of the tide, and it was just about "full sea" at this time.

The smoke was very aggravating to the midshipman, but he could not help himself. The light air swept it away in time, and, with his strained eyes, Christy discovered that two Roman candles were burning at the signal station.

"Did you hit her, Christy?" asked Paul Vapoor, leaping on the gun-carriage.

"I did," replied the midshipman, trying to control a certain