A Little Traitor to the South<br />A War Time Comedy with a Tragic Interlude by Cyrus Townsend Brady (epub read online books TXT) 📖

selected from among hundreds who volunteered. Five seamen are to attend to the propeller and an artillery officer to look after the torpedo. You can steer the boat?"

"I lived on the water before I entered the army."

"All right. The Wabash is lying off the Main Ship Channel. I have no instructions to give you except to go at her and sink her. I am told the most vulnerable spot of a ship is just forward of the mainmast. Hit her there. Don't explode your torpedo until you are in actual contact if possible. Glassell's went off the moment he saw her without touching, else he would have sunk the New Ironsides. You will find the torpedo boat at the government wharf. Everything is ready. You will leave at seven. The three blockade-runners will follow you as close as is practicable, and when you torpedo the frigate they will dart through the Swash and try to get to sea. I reckon upon the other Yankee ships running down to aid the Wabash. I'll see you on the wharf. God bless you, and may He have mercy on your souls!" said the little general, solemnly.

He put out his hand to the young man, and Sempland shook it vigorously.

"I pray that I may succeed for the sake of the South, sir," returned the young man, firmly.

"For the sake of the South, gentlemen. That is our watchword," cried Beauregard, standing up and bringing his hand to a salute.

"Have you any preparations to make, Sempland?" asked Lacy, when they left the office.

"I have a letter to write."

"Very well. I will look after the boat and will meet you on the wharf. Shall you see Miss Glen before you go?"

"No."

"You must."

"I cannot. What difference does it make to her, anyway? I will be at the wharf"—he looked at his watch, it was already six o'clock—"in three-quarters of an hour. Good-by."

The two men shook hands and separated.

"The boat is ready," said Lacy to himself. "I saw to that this afternoon. There is nothing for me to do there. I wonder—by Jove, I'll do it!"

A few minutes after he was ushered again into the presence of Miss Fanny Glen. She had at first pleaded indisposition, but he had insisted upon seeing her.

"I have something of so much importance to tell you, Miss Glen," he began, as she entered the room, "that I was forced to override your desires."

"Is it about the subject that we—I—talked about this afternoon? If so—"

"It is not. I shall say no more on that score. I had my answer then."

"I am very sorry," continued the girl. "I admire you, respect you, but—but—I do not—"

"I understand. Never mind that. You said that Sempland had never done anything to distinguish himself. Well, he's going to do it to-night."

"What is he going to do?" asked the girl, all the listlessness instantly going out of her manner.

"He is going to take out the David."

"Yes?"

"And blow up the Wabash."

Her hand went to her heart. Her face turned whiter than the frock she wore.

"My God!" she whispered, "Admiral Vernon's ship!"

"She loves him! She loves him!" flashed into Lacy's mind, and for the moment he suffered agonies of jealous pain.

"But," continued the girl, "why should they—"

"In the first place," went on Lacy, "if the venture succeeds, we sink a noble ship and put out of the way a most determined enemy, and we hope to let the blockaded cotton ships get to sea."

"But the David!" said the girl, who knew the sinister story of the crazy submarine torpedo boat as did every one in Charleston. "It is sure death!"

"It is dangerous," said Lacy, softly, "but General Beauregard has ordered Sempland to keep her on the surface. That ought to give them a chance. Glassell escaped, you remember, when he tried the New Ironsides."

"He will be killed! He will be killed!" she cried piteously, "and—Admiral Vernon!"

"What is the Yankee admiral to you, to any of us?" Lacy asked, curiously interested to know the meaning of her remark.

"Why do you tell me of all this?" she asked, failing to notice his question in her anxiety and alarm.

"Because I want you to know Sempland as the hero he is, and because—forgive my frankness—I believe that you love him. So I want him to hear you say it before he goes out. It will double his chances of escape if he has your love to think of. You will inspire him to come back. As it is now, I am afraid he does not especially care to. He's too good a man to lose, if we—if you—can save him, Miss Fanny."

"And this man abused you to me this afternoon!" murmured the girl.

"He said what was true. I honor him for it. I love you, Miss Fanny. I am proving it to you now as I proved it to him when I gave him my place at his earnest entreaty. The detail was mine."

"Why did you do it?"

"For his sake, for yours. It's his solitary chance. I've had so many, you know."

"And he is going to blow up the Wabash, the admiral's ship, did you say?"

"Yes, if he can."

Fanny Glen was a picture of terror plainly apparent in spite of her valiant effort to conceal her feelings. Her agitation was so overwhelming, her anxiety so pronounced, that even on the hypothesis of an ardent affection for Sempland, Lacy was completely at loss to account for her condition. What could it mean? But he had no time to speculate upon it. The minutes were flying by.

"Come, Miss Glen," he said at last, "it isn't so bad as all that."

"But those men on the ship, the—the admiral! They won't have a chance for their lives. It is appalling to think of! I cannot bear it! I—"

"Let them lift the blockade then," coolly returned the young officer; "it is a chance of war. Don't waste your sympathy on them. Bestow it nearer at hand. Sempland starts in half an hour. Won't you see him before he goes?"

"Yes," whispered the girl, "if you will send him to me."

"There is no time to lose. I will have him here in a few moments."

As he turned away the girl stretched out her hand to him.

"You have been very good—very brave—very noble," she faltered. "I wish—I—I loved you more than—than I do."

He stooped over her and kissed her bended head. She was a little woman and so appealing. He breathed a prayer over her and tore himself away.

"Thank you," he said, "you have rewarded me. Good-by."

 

CHAPTER V

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE STRONG ROOM

As she heard his departing footstep on the porch the poor girl threw herself down upon her knees and lifted her hands.

"The South and—and—he, mistaken, but still—ah, where is my duty? The ship and Rhett Sempland! I love him. I cannot let him go! It would be wicked. God pity me! But how, how to prevent it? If I can only delay him until to-morrow, I can tell the general everything, and—is there a way, is there a way, O God?"

She thought deeply, every atom in her being concentrated on the problem which tore her between love and duty, devotion to the cause of the South and those other appeals, which, finding lodgment in her heart, moved her so profoundly. She wrestled with the question as to where her duty lay as Jacob wrestled with the angel of old, and if she did not conquer, at least she decided.

Determining on a desperate course of action, she rose to her feet and sharply struck a bell by her side on the table. The house was an ancient mansion when it had been rented by her aunt and herself three years before. It dated back to Colonial times. There was a strong room in it, the windows of which were barred. It would make a safe prison for any one. He should be put in there and be kept there until morning. He would be safe there. No harm would come to the ship, and when the general knew, he would forgive her. She would tell him the first thing in the morning.

It would cause her lover pain and grief, this summary action of hers, but she could explain it to him, too; and he would forgive her also and she would reward him with herself! There was compensation in that, she thought proudly and tenderly.

"Cæsar," she said, as the aged butler made his appearance in response to the bell, "send Joe and Sam and Cato to me. Boys," she continued, as three stalwart young negroes presented themselves before her soon after, "Mr. Sempland is coming here to-night to see me. I—he—" she found it somewhat difficult to explain. "General Beauregard wants him detained here. I cannot let him get away. Show him into the strong room on the other side of the house when he asks for me, and then lock the door on him. Don't let him get out under any circumstances until to-morrow, but on no account are you to do him any hurt. You hear? You understand?"

"Ya-as, Miss Fanny, I specs we does," answered Cato, the oldest and most intelligent of the three.

"Cæsar, you lead him into the strong room. Say I will meet him there in a moment. He won't suspect anything, I reckon. The rest of you stay in the passage, and as soon as he enters lock the door upon him. Don't neglect that! He'll try to get out. He may break the door down. But you must keep him there, even if he attempts to kill you—unless I say for you to release him."

The three slaves were devoted to their young mistress and, accepting her orders without a question, they at once began their preparations to carry them out. As they were talking together a light step sounded on the porch. There was a ring at the door. The men hurried to their places of concealment. Miss Fanny Glen hid in the dark drawing-room, as Cæsar shuffled along the hall to the front door.

"Your mistress has sent for me," said Sempland. And from where she stood in the drawing-room, Fanny Glen's heart leaped at the tones of his voice.

"Yas, suh," returned the darky, obsequiously ushering him through the hall. "Step right dis way, suh, Mass' Sempland. Miss Fanny done axes you to go in dis room at de end ob de passage, suh. An' she tol' me she gwine be wid you in a minute, suh."

The room was one which Sempland had never entered before. It was small, furnished like a library or office, with several large closets and an old iron safe, and had two grated windows and one heavy mahogany door. It had formerly been used as an office and as a treasure room. Seeing the visitor safe within, Cæsar calmly withdrew, and as he adroitly coughed violently in the passage Sempland did not hear the ponderous key turning in the old-fashioned lock. He waited a few minutes, and then, as time was precious, he looked around for a bell. Seeing none he walked to the door, laid his hand upon the knob, and tried to open it. It did not give.

"Locked!" he muttered in surprise.

Raising his hand he struck a light blow on the panels, but there was no reply. Then he called out and received no answer. He struck and called again and again, his voice rising to a shout while his hands were bleeding from the blows he had rained on the hard surface. Finally a voice came to him faintly through the door.

"Wat's de matta, suh?"

"Open this door instantly, you black dog! Where is Miss Glen?"

"She's a-comin', suh."

"I wish to see her immediately!" he cried imperiously, kicking and battering again upon the door in furious rage, which was stilled the instant he heard her voice outside.

"Mr. Sempland?"

"What is the meaning of this action, this outrage, Miss Glen?" he cried. "You sent for me. I came. Why am I locked in here? Open the door! I must leave immediately!"

"You are locked in