A Little Traitor to the South, Cyrus Townsend Brady [book club reads txt] 📗

submerged again had materially diminished the risk which experience had shown was overwhelming, yet the proposed expedition was nevertheless hazardous in the extreme.

In the first place, an excellent lookout was kept on the Union ships on account of the several attempts which had been made against them by similar boats. If she were discovered, one shot striking the boat as she approached, even a rifle shot, would suffice to sink her. No one knew what she would do even if she succeeded in exploding the torpedo. It was scarcely hoped that she could get away from a sinking ship in that event.

The little party of officers grouped on the wharf bade good-by to the men who entered the deadly affair as if they were saying farewell to those about to die. Every preparation had been made, the artillery officer had finally and carefully inspected the torpedo to see if it was in good working order, the men had descended into the cramped narrow little hull of the boat and had made ready to start the propeller. None of them wore any superfluous clothing, for it was oppressively hot in the confined area of the little iron shell, and they might have to swim for their lives anyway--perhaps they would be lucky if they got the chance. In short, everybody was ready and every one was there except the commander of the expedition.

Great secrecy had been observed in the preparations lest there might be a spy in the town, who, learning of the attempt, would communicate the valuable information to the Federal fleet, and so frustrate it. General Beauregard had caused the wharf to be cleared and guarded early in the evening. It was quite dark in February at six o'clock, and no one except his trusted staff officers and Lacy, who had so magnanimously surrendered his opportunity to Sempland, was present.

At a quarter before seven, which was the time Sempland had appointed to return when he left in obedience to Fanny Glen's summons, the general began to feel some uneasiness. He spoke about it to Lacy, but was reassured by that gentleman, who professed full confidence that the young lieutenant would undoubtedly be there in a few moments. He had already of his own motion despatched a soldier to Fanny Glen's house and had learned from him the false news that Sempland had been there and had left. Lacy supposed he had returned to his quarters.

The state of the tide, the necessities of the blockade-runners who hoped to escape that night under cover of the confusion caused by the attack, rendered it absolutely necessary that there should be no delay in the departure of the torpedo boat. The time had been set for seven o'clock, as late as practicable, in order to secure the advantage of settled darkness before the blow was delivered. The party on the wharf waited apprehensively a little longer, conversing in low tones as the moments ran away, and there was great anxiety as to the whereabouts of the missing officer. Seven o'clock struck from the ancient church steeple hard by; still he did not appear.

"General," said Lacy, a few moments later, "if I might suggest, sir--"

"Go on. What is it?"

"It might be well to send for him."

"Never!" said the general, shortly; "it is a soldier's duty to be at the place appointed him at the specified time. I shall not send for him. If he has forgotten himself, his duty, for any cause, he shall suffer the consequences."

Lacy was in despair. He could not understand the situation. He had not the slightest doubt of Sempland's courage. He knew his friend's rigid idea of soldierly duty or honor. Where had he gone? If there had been any way, he would have despatched men to hunt for him in every direction, but the general's prohibition was positive. And for some reason which he could not explain he refrained from saying anything about Sempland's visit to Fanny Glen, merely advising the general, in response to an inquiry, that he had left him to go to his quarters to write a letter.

Five minutes more dragged along.

"General Beauregard," said Lacy at last, "with your permission I will seek him myself."

"No," said the general, sternly, "we can wait no longer. I need you for something else."

"You mean--?"

"I mean that I shall carry out the original plan. Mr. Sempland has forfeited any consideration whatever at our hands."

"Then I am to--?"

Lacy pointed toward the _David_.

"Unless you wish to back out."

"No one has ever used these words to me, sir," answered Lacy, proudly. "I am as ready, as anxious, to go as I ever was. But Sempland--sir, I would stake my life on his fidelity."

"It may be so. I can wait no longer. Will you go, or shall I give up the expedition?"

"Rather than that, sir," said one of his staff officers, "if Major Lacy hesitates, let me go."

"Enough!" said Lacy. "Will you explain to Sempland how it came about? Good-by."


CHAPTER VII


THE HOUR AND THE MAN

Lacy tore off his coat and vest, and threw them on the wharf, saluted the general and stepped into the boat. Some one in the group lifted a lantern. The flickering light fell on the pale faces of the determined men.

"Good-by, sir," said Beauregard. "You, at least, are an officer, a soldier of whom the South is proud. Remember the flagship is your game. She lies at anchor right off the Main Ship Channel. Good luck to you. A colonel's shoulder straps await you here if you come back. God bless you all!"

He wrung the major's hand, watched him step into the _David_ and whisper an order to his men, heard him call out "Good-by, sir. If we don't come back, don't forget us," and that was all.

The little boat was shoved away from the wharf by willing hands and in a moment was lost in the darkness of the bay. There was no moon, and the night was dark. There was no light save from the stars. The torpedo boat slipped through the water without making a sound. She became entirely invisible a hundred feet away. The officers rubbed their eyes as they stared in the direction where they had last seen her, almost fearing that she had again sunk beneath the sea. They stayed there perhaps five minutes, at least until the blockade-runners, none of them showing a light of any description, could get under way in obedience to a lantern signal from the general and noiselessly slip down the bay in the wake of the frail little craft which it was hoped would be able to clear the path for them.

"Now," said Beauregard, turning away at last, "for Mr. Sempland. I do not understand it. I never thought him a coward."

"Nor am I, sir!" panted a voice out of the darkness, as a pale and breathless man burst through the group surrounding the general.

"Mr. Sempland!"

"For God's sake, sir, am I in time? The boat?"

"Gone."

"How long? Call her back!"

"It is too late. She has been gone ten minutes. Where were you, sir?"

"Who took her out?"

"Major Lacy. Answer my question, sir!"

"He! My God! I am disgraced! Dishonored! And she--"

"Where were you, sir?"

"I--I--"

The young man hesitated.

"Why don't you answer? Do you realize your position? You begged this detail. Why were you not here?"

"Oh, General Beauregard--"

"How could you forget your honor, the South? Where were you, I say? Answer, or I will have you shot in the morning!"

"I--I--was detained, sir. I--"

"Is that your only excuse, sir?" sternly.

Sempland was in a fearful predicament. To have restrained him by force was an act of high treason. He could only explain himself by implicating the woman he loved. The consequences in either case were dreadful. Fanny Glen a traitor to the South? Beauregard was a stern, inexorable soldier. He would not condone such an offence as hers. That she had failed in her effort to prevent the expedition would mean nothing to the general. Fanny Glen, the pride of Charleston, the woman who had done more for the South than any other woman in the Carolinas, perhaps, to be disgraced, certainly to be punished, it might be--shot!

She had ruined him, but he had kissed her. He could not say the word which would incriminate her and leave him free. He was disgraced already, he would be cashiered. Well, what mattered it? His chance was gone, the woman did not love him. His heart was hot against her. Yet he remembered the scene in the strong room--had she indeed returned his kiss? He closed his lips firmly and said nothing. He would not, he could not betray her, even to himself.

"You do not answer, sir! What excuse have you to offer?"

"None."

"You sought this detail. You forced yourself into the expedition. Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

"Nothing."

"You are under arrest, sir, for disobedience of orders, for dereliction of duty! By heavens!" said the general, striking his left hand with his right, "for cowardice!"

"For God's sake, not that, sir!"

"For cowardice, sir! You knew the expedition was one of extreme hazard. You have no excuse to offer for not having been here. What else is it?"

"Not that, sir! Not that!" pleaded the lieutenant. "Anything but that!"

"A traitor, a coward, I say!"

"General Beauregard!" cried a high-pitched voice out of the darkness, shrill and unnatural with terror and fatigue. The next moment Fanny Glen herself, bareheaded, panting from her rapid run, white-faced in the light cast by the lantern held by the staff officer, pushed through the group surrounding the general.

"Where is Mr. Sempland, sir?" she asked.

"Here, under arrest. He failed to arrive in time. Can you explain it?"

"The boat?"

"Gone."

"Gone? Then who--"

"Major Lacy took it out."

"And the _Wabash_?"

"Will be blown up, please God, if all goes well."

The girl put her face in her hands as if to shut out some dreadful picture. She kept them there for a few seconds, then she lifted her head and looked unsteadily from the severe face of the general to the cold, disdainful countenance of Sempland. The man she loved shrank away from her.

"Useless! Too late!" she murmured, then fell fainting at their feet.


CHAPTER VIII


DEATH OUT OF THE DEEP

At 8.30 that night, February 17, 1864, the little torpedo boat, after having successfully passed the monitors and ironclads anchored just out of range of Fort Sumter, and inside the shoals at the harbor mouth, was stopped about a mile from the outer entrance of the Main Ship Channel, where her quarry had been reported as lying quietly at anchor at nightfall. Success had attended the efforts of her devoted crew so far. By Lacy's command the _David_ was stopped in order to give a little rest, a breathing space, before the last dash at their prey, to the weary seamen who had driven her steadily on since leaving the wharf.

The night was calm and very still. The hatch covers were thrown back, the tired men thrust their heads into the cool, sweet air, so refreshing after the closeness of their badly ventilated vessel, and wetted their fevered, exhausted bodies with the stimulating water of the bay. The artillery officer took advantage of the