Stand By The Union, Oliver Optic [books for 7th graders txt] 📗

done stick in de mud," answered the negro, pointing in the direction of the bar. "Den de little steamers from up the bay take off de loadin', and she done come in."

325 "With what was she loaded?"

"All sorts o' tings, massa; guns, and pistols, and close. Dis nigger help take de tings out ob her."

"What is she doing now in the bay?"

"Loadin' wid cotton de steamers fotch down."

"Where does she lie now?"

"Jes' off de ole Fort Lafitte, whar de water's deep."

In less than half an hour the party reached the locality indicated by Job. The officer could see the steamer which looked, in the gloom of the night, as though she was a craft of about five hundred tons. She was moored in the deep water so far in that she could not be seen by vessels in the offing. On each side of her was a small river steamer, and she seemed not to have completed her cargo.

"Do you know the name of that steamer, Uncle Job," inquired Mr. Pennant.

"Yes, sar; I knows it like my own name, but I can't spoke it if I die for't," answered Job, laughing.

"Try to do so."

"No use, Massa Ossifer; dis nigger don't hab teef enough to do dat."

326 "Can't you spell it?"

"No, sar; can't spell noffin."

But Job was very obliging, and he made a hissing sound, followed by an effort to sneeze which was a failure. Then he hissed some more, though the loss of his front teeth interfered with the effort. Then he said "fing."

"I know what he means," interposed the Russian. "I know that steamer, for she came in at Cedar Keys when I was there. He means the Sphinx."

"Dat's it, Massa Ossifer!" exclaimed Job, apparently delighted to find that he had made himself understood.

"Has she any big guns?"

"Yes, sar; she done h'ist two out ob her innards, and done took two more from de fort."

"All right; I think we understand the situation up here," said Mr. Pennant, as he led the way in the direction from which they had come.

They returned to the negro village, for the commander of the expedition did not feel as though he had yet finished his mission on shore.

"Mind yore eye, Massa Gumboat!" exclaimed Job, in a low tone, but with great earnestness.

327 "Dar's somebody comin' from de fort! He's comin' mighty quick shore."

The negro hurried the officer and Mike into one of the cabins, and shoved them into a sort of closet, while he went to the door himself. He passed out into the lane, as the man came into it from the middle of the field, for he had not been near enough to the shore to discover the boat.

"Who dar?" called Job.

"Soldier from the fort," replied the man. "What are you doing out here at this time of night?"

"I done get sick, massa, and I's gwine up to de big house to see de doctor," replied the negro, who probably used the first excuse that came into his head.

"The doctor!" exclaimed the soldier. "Is there a doctor there?"

"I reckon dar's one dar if he done habn't leabe yisterday."

"Then you can do my errand for me," added the soldier.

"Yes, sar; what's dat, massa?"

"One of our men is very sick, and we have no doctor. We are afraid he will die before morning, 328 and we want a doctor. Ours was ordered off a week ago."

"I go for de doctor if he's dar," said Job.

"Very well; I will go back and tell the sick man the doctor's coming," added the soldier. "That will give him a hope, if nothing more."

"Dis nigger's 'feered de doctor done gone away."

"If he isn't there, we can't have him; but hurry up, Uncle Job, and come over and tell us if he isn't there," said the soldier, as he hurried away as rapidly as he came, evidently believing that hope was a panacea to a sick man.

As the soldier did not offer to come into the cabin, Mr. Pennant had come out of his hiding-place, and had heard all that was said by the soldier, even while he was in concealment.

"Is there any doctor at the big house?" asked the lieutenant as soon as Job entered the house.

"No, sar; all de family done leave, an' was gwine to New Orleans. Arter a while I go to de fort and tell de sodgers the doctor done gone," replied Job.

"I will go with you, Uncle Job," added Mr. Pennant quietly.

329 "You, Massa Gumboat!" cried the negro. "De sodgers put de bagonet frou your crop like a knife frou a pullet's froat!"

"Not if you tell them I am the doctor," added the lieutenant.

"De doctor! Be you a doctor, sar?"

"I have done something in the business, and perhaps I can cure the man who is sick, if they have the proper medicine," added the officer.

"Dey hab de medicine at de big house."

"Can you get into it?"

"Yes, sar; de oberseer's sick abed, and dis nigger go right in like massa hisself," replied Job, as he led the way in the direction of the planter's house.

The Russian was sent to the boat to await the return of the lieutenant; but he was instructed not to open his mouth to his shipmates in regard to what had been done on the island. Job found a way to get into the big house, and conducted the officer to the dispensary, where he had so often gone for remedies for his ailments. He found what he wanted, and then he felt reasonably certain that he should make a success of his professional visit to the soldier. He took several small 330 bottles of medicines in addition to the particular one upon which he depended.

Job conducted him to the fort, which was over a mile distant. The lieutenant was not dressed in his uniform with the shoulder straps, though he had procured one from the store ship at the station; but he had adjusted his garments to the needs of the occasion, so that, if captured he could hardly be recognized as a Union officer. But he had his navy revolvers in his hip pockets, though they were covered by the skirts of the frock coat he wore, for he had borrowed this garment of the surgeon.

At the principal entrance of the fort they were challenged by the sentinel. Mr. Pennant was somewhat afraid his northern dialect would betray him, for he was not a highly educated man, though he was exceedingly well informed in all matters pertaining to the duties of a shipmaster.

"Stand! Who comes there?" said the sentinel.

"Friends," replied the lieutenant.

"Advance, friends, and give the countersign!"

"We have no countersign to give."

"Who are you?" demanded the soldier.

"Dr. Waterton," answered Mr. Pennant, giving 331 the first name that came into his head, for the medical title was the essential thing.

"All right, doctor; I have been directed to admit you. Pass in, sir."

Job was familiar with the interior of the fort, and he led the way; but before they had crossed the parade, the soldier who had gone for the doctor came to them, and conducted them to a casemate, where the sick soldier was still suffering terrible pains.

"Lieutenant Fourchon, this is the doctor; but I do not know his name," said the soldier.

"Dr. Waterton," added Mr. Pennant.

"I am glad to see you, Dr. Waterton, for I have exhausted all my remedies," said Lieutenant Fourchon. "I was not born to be a doctor. The patient seems to be no better."

"It does not look like a very bad case," added the doctor, finding it necessary to say something, as he felt the pulse of the sufferer.

Though the lieutenant of the Bronx was not a physician, he was not altogether a pretender, for in the capacity of mate and temporary commander, he had done duty in the healing art in the absence of a more skilful person.

332 "A glass of water and a teaspoon," said he to the soldier-nurse; and they were promptly brought to him.

The doctor took from his pocket a small bottle of chloroform he had obtained from the big house, and dropped a quantity of it into the teaspoon. Mixing it with a little water in a glass, he gave it to the patient, who swallowed it quickly in spite of its burning taste.

"Now a piece of flannel," added the doctor.

Upon this when it was brought he dropped a quantity of the chloroform, and applied it to the seat of the pain. In a moment the soldier cried out against the burning heat of the remedy; but the practitioner insisted that it should remain a while longer. But he relieved him of it in a short time.

"How do you feel?" asked the doctor.

"Better; a great deal better," replied the patient.

In fact, in less than an hour he said he was entirely relieved from the severe pain. He was very grateful to the doctor, whom no one suspected of being a Yankee gunboat officer.

"I had the same thing once before, and I was 333 sure I should die with it this time," said the sick soldier, "It lasted me all night and part of the next day the other time."

"I am afraid you did not have a very skilful doctor at that time," replied the practitioner with a smile.

Lieutenant Fourchon pressed the hand of the doctor, and left the casemate with him.

334 CHAPTER XXX THE ATTACK UPON THE FORT

The Confederate officer was evidently of French descent; at any rate, he was very polite. He expressed his obligations to the supposed physician for the service he had rendered in very earnest terms. Mr. Pennant had been able to see that there were no guns in the casemates of the fort, and this was really all he wanted to know.

"All your guns seem to be mounted outside," said the naval officer as he halted on the parade.

"Yes, sir; most of the guns have been removed to points where they can be used to greater advantage than here. The few we have are twenty-four pounders, mounted en barbette," replied Lieutenant Fourchon. "The fort is practically abandoned; and in a short time will be entirely so, for the enemy's ships of war can do no harm here, and there is not water enough above to permit their passage into the Mississippi."

335 "But the fort can protect your vessels in the bay," suggested the lieutenant of the Bronx.

"The shoal water is the best protection for the small steamers that ply on these inside waters; and the Yankee gunboats can take all others as they come out. The entrance to the bay has not been regularly blockaded, for there has been little occasion to do so thus far."

Mr. Pennant had learned all he wanted to know, and from the parade he could see even in the darkness that only four guns were mounted on the works. He began to feel in a hurry to carry out the remainder of the programme assigned to him. He took the hand of the Confederate officer when he reached the point where Uncle Job was waiting for him, bade him good-morning, and left the fort.

"How's de sick man, Massa Gumboat?" asked the old negro, chuckling as though he appreciated the stroke of strategy made by his companion.

"He is better; in fact, he was about well when I left him," replied the practitioner. "But I have no more time to waste," added he, as he quickened his pace, moving in the direction of the shore.

336 The day was beginning to break in the east, and he was afraid the commander of the Bronx would become uneasy in regard to him. The quarters of the soldiers were passed, though they were not in use, and the shore reached. The lieutenant thanked the guide for the service he had rendered, and told him he could go back to his cabin, and finish his night's sleep.

"No, sar; see you frou, Massa Gumboat," replied Job.

"Do you wish to leave this place, Uncle Job?" asked the officer.

"No, sar; I want to be free, but I'm not gwine away, I want to see de gumboat."

"You shall see it, and go on board of it if you wish; but we may have a battle with the fort."

"Don't care for de fight, sar; Job isn't 'feered o' noffin'."

It was less than halt a mile to the cutter, and they soon reached it. The Russian was standing on the shore, and most of the men were asleep on the thwarts, though Vincent was wide awake. Mike recognized the form of the old negro, and reported that the lieutenant was coming.

"Now burn your roman candle, and let us get