The Blockade Runners E-Book

Bauer Books

• Herausgeber: Bauer Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

The American Civil War plot centers on the exploits of James Playfair who must break the Union blockade of the harbour of Charleston in South Carolina to trade supplies for cotton and, later in the book, to rescue the father of a young girl held prisoner by the Confederates. Verne's tale was inspired by reality as many ships were actually lost while acting as blockade runners in and around Charleston in the early eighteen sixties.

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Table of contents

Chapter I THE DOLPHIN

The Clyde was the first river whose waters were lashed into foam by a steam-boat. It was in 1812 when the steamer called the Comet ran between Glasgow and Greenock, at the speed of six miles an hour. Since that time more than a million of steamers or packetboats have plied this Scotch river, and the inhabitants of Glasgow must be as familiar as any people with the wonders of steam navigation.

“Hurrah!” cried one, affirming that the had been built for the Southern States. “Hip! hip! hip!” cried another, swearing that never had a faster boat crossed to the American coasts. “Uncle Vincent,” said he, coming to the point at once, “there are two millions of pounds to be gained in less than a month.” “And what to risk?” asked Uncle Vincent. “A ship and a cargo.” “Nothing else?” “Nothing, except the crew and the captain, and that does not reckon for much.” “Let us see,” said Uncle Vincent. “It is all seen,” replied James Playfair. “You have read the , the , the , the ?” “Scores of times, nephew.” “You believe, like me, that the war of the United States will last a long time still?” “A very long time.” “You know how much this struggle will affect the interests of England, and especially those of Glasgow?” “And more especially still the house of Playfair & Co.,” replied Uncle Vincent. “Theirs especially,” added the young Captain. It was the sight of this great misery which had put the idea of his bold enterprise into James Playfair’s head. “I will go for cotton, and will get it, cost what it may.” “Uncle Vincent,” said he, “this is my idea.” “Well, James?” “It is simply this: we will have a ship built of superior sailing qualities and great bulk.” “That is quite possible.” “We will load her with ammunition of war, provisions, and clothes.” “Just so.” “I will take the command of this steamer, I will defy all the ships of the Federal marine for speed, and I will run the blockade of one of the southern ports.” “You must make a good bargain for your cargo with the Confederates, who will be in need of it,” said his uncle. “And I shall return laden with cotton.” “Which they will give you for nothing.” “As you say, Uncle. Will it answer?” “It will; but shall you be able to get there?” “I shall, if I have a good ship.” “One can be made on purpose. But the crew?” “Oh, I will find them. I do not want many men; enough to work with, that is all. It is not a question of fighting with the Federals, but distancing them.” “They shall be distanced,” said Uncle Vincent, in a peremptory tone; “but now, tell me, James, to what port of the American coast do you think of going?” “The fact is,” said Uncle Vincent, “Charleston is overwhelmed with cotton; they are even burning it to get rid of it.” “Yes,” replied James; “besides, the town is almost invested; Beauregard is running short of provisions, and he will pay me a golden price for my cargo!” “Well, nephew, and when will you start?” “In six months; I must have the long winter nights to aid me.” “It shall be as you wish, nephew.” “It is settled, then, Uncle?” “Settled!” “Shall it be kept quiet?” “Yes; better so.” And this is how it was that five months later the steamer was launched from the Kelvin Dock timber-yards, and no one knew her real destination. The departure was settled for the 3rd of January; on the 31st of December the was ready, her hold full of ammunition and provisions, and nothing was keeping her now. When he had reached the Captain, he looked fixedly at him, and said, “Captain James Playfair?” “The same,” replied the skipper. “What do you want with me?” “To join your ship.” “There is no room; the crew is already complete.” “Oh, one man, more or less, will not be in the way; quite the contrary.” “You think so?” said James Playfair, giving a sidelong glance at his questioner. “I am sure of it,” replied the sailor. “But who are you?” asked the Captain. “A rough sailor, with two strong arms, which, I can tell you, are not to be despised on board a ship, and which I now have the honour of putting at your service.” “But there are other ships besides the , and other captains besides James Playfair. Why do you come here?” “Because it is on board the that I wish to serve, and under the orders of Captain James Playfair.” “I do not want you.” “There is always need of a strong man, and if to prove my strength you will try me with three or four of the strongest fellows of your crew, I am ready.” “That will do,” replied James Playfair. “And what is your name?” “Crockston, at your service.” “Where have you sailed?” asked Playfair of him. “A little everywhere.” “And do you know where the is bound for?” “Yes; and that is what tempts me.” “Ah, well! I have no mind to let a fellow of your stamp escape me. Go and find the first mate, and get him to enrol you.” Having said this, the Captain expected to see the man turn on his heels and run to the bows, but he was mistaken. Crockston did not stir. “Well! did you hear me?” asked the Captain. “Yes, but it is not all,” replied the sailor. “I have something else to ask you.” “Ah! You are wasting my time,” replied James, sharply; “I have not a moment to lose in talking.” “I shall not keep you long,” replied Crockston; “two words more and that is all; I was going to tell you that I have a nephew.” “He has a fine uncle, then,” interrupted James Playfair. “Hah! Hah!” laughed Crockston. “Have you finished?” asked the Captain, very impatiently. “Well, this is what I have to say, when one takes the uncle, the nephew comes into the bargain.” “Ah! indeed!” “Yes, that is the custom, the one does not go without the other.” “And what is this nephew of yours?” “A lad of fifteen whom I am going to train to the sea; he is willing to learn, and will make a fine sailor some day.” “How now, Master Crockston,” cried James Playfair; “do you think the is a training-school for cabin-boys?” “Don’t let us speak ill of cabin-boys: there was one of them who became Admiral Nelson, and another Admiral Franklin.” “Come,” said he, “don’t be frightened, they are not going to eat us, besides, there is yet time to return.” “No, no,” replied the young man, “and may God protect us!” The same day the sailor Crockston and his nephew were inscribed in the muster-roll of the . On this recommendation, borrowed from the manual of the perfect merchant, the uncle and nephew separated, and all the visitors left the boat. For reply the novice pressed Crockston’s hand. James Playfair then gave the orders for departure. “Have we pressure on?” he asked of his mate. “Yes, Captain,” replied Mr. Mathew. “Well, then, weigh anchor.” “I understand, Captain,” replied Mr. Mathew. This said, James Playfair went to his cabin. Mr. Mathew called Crockston, and told him the Captain’s orders. “To-morrow, at six o’clock,” said he, “you are to relieve watch of the main masthead.” For reply, Crockston gave a decided grunt, but Mr. Mathew had hardly turned his back when the sailor muttered some incomprehensible words, and then cried: “What on earth did he say about the mainmast?” At this moment his nephew, John Stiggs, joined him on the forecastle. “Well, my good Crockston,” said he. “Dear Crockston, and it is for my sake.” “For you and him,” replied Crockston, “but not a word about that, John. Trust in God, and He will not forsake you.” The next day, at six o’clock in the morning, Crockston got up to go to his place; he went on deck, where the first officer ordered him to go up into the rigging, and keep good watch. At these words the sailor seemed undecided what to do; then, making up his mind, he went towards the bows of the . “Well, where are you off to now?” cried Mr. Mathew. “Where you sent me,” answered Crockston. “I told you to go to the mainmast.” “And I am going there,” replied the sailor, in an ununconcerned tone, continuing his way to the poop. The sailors who had run up to hear what was going on burst out laughing when they saw Crockston’s disconcerted look, as he went back to the forecastle. “So,” said he, looking up the mast, the top of which was quite invisible through the morning mists; “so, am I to climb up here?” “That fellow there,” said he to the boatswain, “has never been a sailor in his life. Johnston, just go and see what he has in his bundle.” The boatswain made haste to the sailor’s berth. In the meantime Crockston was with difficulty coming down again, but, his foot having slipped, he slid down the rope he had hold of, and fell heavily on the deck. Crockston received these compliments with a hideous grimace, but he did not open his lips. They had fastened him to the capstan, and he could move neither hand nor foot. A few minutes later James Playfair came out of his cabin and went to the forecastle, where Mr. Mathew immediately acquainted him with the details of the case. “What have you to say?” asked James Playfair, scarcely able to restrain his anger. “Nothing,” replied Crockston. “And what did you come on board my ship for?” “Nothing.” “And what do you expect from me now?” “Nothing.” “Who are you? An American, as letters seem to prove?” Crockston did not answer. “Boatswain,” said James Playfair, “fifty lashes with the cat-o’-nine-tails to loosen his tongue. Will that be enough, Crockston?” “It will remain to be seen,” replied John Stiggs’ uncle without moving a muscle. “Now then, come along, men,” said the boatswain. “Captain!” exclaimed he. John, thus addressed, blushed violently, and two tears rolled involuntarily down his cheeks. “Don’t be alarmed, miss,” said James Playfair, in a gentle voice, “but be so good as to tell me how I come to have the honour of having you on board?” The young girl hesitated a moment, then, reassured by the Captain’s look, she made up her mind to speak. “Certainly,” said James Playfair. “I did well, then, not to ask you,” resumed the young girl, with a firmer voice. The Captain crossed his arms, walked round his cabin, and then came back. “What is your name?” said he. “Jenny Halliburtt.” “Your father, if I remember rightly the address on the letters, is he not from Boston?” “Yes, sir.” “And a Northerner is thus in a southern town in the thickest of the war?” “What was Mr. Halliburtt, then?” asked James Playfair. “A loyal and brave journalist,” replied Jenny proudly, “one of the noblest editors of the , and the one who was the boldest in defending the cause of the negroes.” “An Abolitionist,” cried the Captain angrily; “one of those men who, under the vain pretence of abolishing slavery, have deluged their country with blood and ruin.” “Sir!” replied Jenny Halliburtt, growing pale, “you are insulting my father; you must not forget that I stand alone to defend him.” The boatswain came to him directly. “This cabin will henceforward belong to Miss Jenny Halliburtt. Have a cot made ready for me at the end of the poop; that’s all I want.” The boatswain looked with a stupefied stare at the young novice addressed in a feminine name, but on a sign from James Playfair he went out. “And now, miss, you are at home,” said the young Captain of the . Then he retired. “A pretty animal,” said Crockston, “especially when it shows its velvety paws.” As for Crockston, it was well and duly agreed that, as he was no more a sailor than a horse-guard, he should be exempt from all duty on board. “How now, what do you want? You are turning round me like a swimmer round a buoy: when are you going to leave off?” “Excuse me, Captain,” answered Crockston, winking, “I wanted to speak to you.” “Speak, then.” “Oh, it is nothing very much. I only wanted to tell you frankly that you are a good fellow at bottom.” “Why at bottom?” “At bottom and surface also.” “I don’t want your compliments.” “I am not complimenting you. I shall wait to do that when you have gone to the end.” “To what end?” “To the end of your task.” “Ah! I have a task to fulfil?” “How not all?” cried James Playfair, amazed at Crockston’s boldness. “No, certainly not,” replied the latter, with a knowing look, “the father is prisoner there.” “Well, what about that?” “Well, the father must be rescued.” “Rescue Miss Halliburtt’s father?” “Most certainly, and it is worth risking something for such a noble man and courageous citizen as he.” “Master Crockston,” said James Playfair, frowning, “I am not in the humour for your jokes, so have a care what you say.” “What, do you mean that I must deliver Mr. Halliburtt?” “Just so. You can demand his release of General Beauregard, who will not refuse you.” “But if he does refuse me?” “In that case,” replied Crockston, in a deliberate tone, “we must use stronger measures, and carry off the prisoner by force.” “Oh, it is but a cannon-shot more or less!” added Crockston. “Master Crockston,” said James Playfair, “mind what I say: if ever you mention this affair again to me, I will send you to the hold for the rest of the passage, to teach you manners.” But when Crockston saw that the young girl and the young man avoided each other, he began to be perplexed. “We must look sharp,” said he to himself, and the morning of the fourth day he entered Miss Halliburtt’s cabin, rubbing his hands with an air of perfect satisfaction. “Good news!” cried he, “good news! You will never guess what the Captain has proposed to me. A very noble young man he is. Now try.” “Ah!” replied Jenny, whose heart beat violently, “has he proposed to—” “To deliver Mr. Halliburtt, to carry him off from the Confederates, and bring him to England.” “Is it true?” cried Jenny. “That’s what he is,” added Crockston; “and this, Miss Jenny, is well worth an acknowledgment from you.” “More than an acknowledgment,” cried the young girl; “a lasting friendship!” And immediately she left the cabin to find James Playfair, and express to him the sentiments which flowed from her heart. “Getting on by degrees,” muttered the American. “Thank you, sir, thank you for your kindness, which I should never have dared to expect from a stranger.” “Miss,” replied the Captain, as if he understood nothing of what she was talking, and could not understand, “I do not know—” “Mr. Playfair,” said Jenny, “it is useless to pretend any longer; Crockston has told me all!” “Ah!” said the Captain, “Crockston has told you all; then I understand less than ever the reason for your leaving your cabin, and saying these words which—” “Miss Jenny,” said he, “rest assured I will do everything in my power for—” “Miss—Miss Jenny—for you—” Crockston, who was watching him, rubbed his hands, grinning and repeating to himself: “It will come! it will come! it has come!” “Ahoy, officer of the watch!” “What now?” asked Mr. Mathew. “A sail to windward!” James Playfair, leaving the young girl, immediately sprang to the shrouds of the mainmast. Until now the navigation of the had been very fortunate. Not one ship had been signalled before the sail hailed by the man on watch. After having carefully examined her, the Captain came down on deck again, and called to the first officer. “Mr. Mathew,” said he, “what do you think of this ship?” “I think, Captain, that it is a Federal cruiser, which suspects our intentions.” “There is no possible doubt of her nationality,” said James Playfair. “Look!” At this moment the starry flag of the North United States appeared on the gaff-yards of the corvette, and the latter asserted her colours with a cannon-shot. “An invitation to show ours,” said Mr. Mathew. “Well, let us show them; there is nothing to be ashamed of.” “What’s the good?” replied James Playfair. “Our flag will hardly protect us, and it will not hinder those people from paying us a visit. No; let us go ahead.” “And is she fast?” “One of the fastest vessels of the Federal marine.” “What guns does she carry?” “Eight.” “Pooh!” “Upon my soul!” exclaimed James Playfair, “they are Parrott’s, and will carry three miles.” The first officer gave the Captain’s orders to the engineer, and soon volumes of black smoke curled from the steamer’s chimneys. “Now,” said he, “we shall see what the will do; here is a fine opportunity for her to try her guns. Go ahead full speed!” “Good!” exclaimed Mr. Mathew; “she will not be long in saluting us.” Returning to the poop, the Captain saw Miss Halliburtt sitting quietly near the bulwarks. “Thank you, very much, Mr. Playfair,” replied the young girl, looking at him, “but I am not afraid of cannon-shots.” “However, miss, in spite of the distance, there may be some danger.” “Oh, I was not brought up to be fearful; they accustom us to everything in America, and I assure you that the shot from the will not make me lower my head.” “You are brave, Miss Jenny.” “Let us admit, then, that I am brave, and allow me to stay by you.” “I can refuse you nothing, Miss Halliburtt,” replied the Captain, looking at the young girl’s calm face. “By Jove!” exclaimed James Playfair, “we must get along; another slap like that is not to be waited for.” “Oh!” exclaimed Mr. Mathew, “they will take some time to reload such pieces.” “Upon my honour, it is an interesting sight,” said Crockston, who, with arms crossed, stood perfectly at his ease looking at the scene. “Ah! that’s you,” cried James Playfair, scanning the American from head to foot. “It is me, Captain,” replied the American, undisturbed. “I have come to see how these brave Federals fire; not badly, in truth, not badly.” The Captain was going to answer Crockston sharply, but at this moment a second shot struck the sea on the starboard side. “Good!” cried James Playfair, “we have already gained two cables on this . Your friends sail like a buoy; do you hear, Master Crockston?” “I will not say they don’t,” replied the American, “and for the first time in my life it does not fail to please me.” A third shot fell still farther astern, and in less than ten minutes the was out of range of the corvette’s guns. “It is a good ship that you command,” said Miss Halliburtt to the young Captain. “Yes, Miss Jenny, my good makes her seventeen knots, and before the day is over we shall have lost sight of that corvette.” James Playfair did not exaggerate the sailing qualities of his ship, and the sun had not set before the masts of the American ship had disappeared below the horizon. “How!” cried James, “the house of Playfair ought not to attempt such a commercial enterprise?” “No! it is taking ammunition to the unhappy creatures in revolt against the government of their country, and it is lending arms to a bad cause.” “Oh, for once, Miss Jenny, this is too much, and I cannot admit—” “We will hold him fast!” he muttered to himself, “and before a week has passed my master will be quietly installed in one of the best cabins of the .” But whilst love was making such progress in the heart of the young Captain, the sped with no less rapidity towards Charleston. “Charleston lighthouse!” Now that the bearings of the were set, James Playfair had but one thing to do, to decide by which channel he would run into Charleston Bay. “If we meet with no obstacles,” said he, “before three o’clock we shall be in safety in the docks of the port.” Now this work demanded an experienced seaman, and one who knew exactly the qualities of the . In fact, two Federal frigates were now cruising in the Charleston waters. Mr. Mathew soon drew James Playfair’s attention to them. “They are preparing to ask us what we want on these shores,” said he. “Ah, well! we won’t answer them,” replied the Captain, “and they will not get their curiosity satisfied.” “They will be slightly astonished presently,” said James Playfair, “when they see us slip through their fingers!” “How!” cried Crockston, “and is that the only difficulty?” “Oh! oh! Master Crockston,” said James Playfair, “the difficulty is not in entering, but in getting out again.” Soon Fort Sumter on the left protected her from the batteries of the Federalists. Once past the fort, the town of Charleston appeared, lying between Ashley and Cooper Rivers. “A little patience, Miss Jenny; you will soon embrace your father. Rely upon my acting with the most entire devotion, but also with prudence and consideration.” “So,” said he, “you believe in the triumph of the slave-holders?” “And you are quite sure of your soldiers?” asked the Captain. “You are not afraid that Charleston will grow weary of a siege which is ruining her?” “Have you any Federal prisoners?” asked James Playfair, coming to the interesting object of the conversation. “And have you many?” “About a hundred.” “Free in the town?” “What! to be shot!” cried the young man, shuddering involuntarily. “Who is this man you speak of?” asked James Playfair, with an assumed carelessness. “A journalist from Boston, a violent Abolitionist with the confounded spirit of Lincoln.” “And his name?” “Jonathan Halliburtt.” “Poor wretch!” exclaimed James, suppressing his emotion. “Whatever he may have done, one cannot help pitying him. And you think that he will be shot?” “I am sure of it,” replied Beauregard. “What can you expect? War is war; one must defend oneself as best one can.” “Well, it is nothing to me,” said the Captain. “I shall be far enough away when this execution takes place.” “What! you are thinking of going away already.” He had not gone fifty steps from the governor’s house when he ran against Crockston. The worthy American had been watching for him since his departure. “Well, Captain?” James Playfair looked steadily at Crockston, and the latter soon understood he had no favourable news to give him. “Have you seen Beauregard?” he asked. “Yes,” replied James Playfair. “And have you spoken to him about Mr. Halliburtt?” “No, it was he who spoke to me about him.” “Well, Captain?” “Well, I may as well tell you everything, Crockston.” “Everything, Captain.” “General Beauregard has told me that your master will be shot within a week.” At this news anyone else but Crockston would have grown furious or given way to bursts of grief, but the American, who feared nothing, only said, with almost a smile on his lips: “Pooh! what does it matter?” “How! what does it matter?” cried James Playfair. “I tell you that Mr. Halliburtt will be shot within a week, and you answer, what does it matter?” “And I mean it—if in six days he is on board the , and if in seven days the is on the open sea.” “But you must know that it will be difficult to do so.” “Pooh!” exclaimed Crockston. “It is a question of communicating with a prisoner strictly guarded.” “Certainly.” “And to bring about an almost miraculous escape.” “Nonsense,” exclaimed Crockston; “a prisoner thinks more of escaping than his guardian thinks of keeping him; that’s why, thanks to our help, Mr. Halliburtt will be saved.” “You are right, Crockston.” “Always right.” “But now what will you do? There must be some plan: and there are precautions to be taken.” “I will think about it.” “But when Miss Jenny learns that her father is condemned to death, and that the order for his execution may come any day—” “She will know nothing about it, that is all.” “Yes, it will be better for her and for us to tell her nothing.” “Where is Mr. Halliburtt imprisoned?” asked Crockston. “In the citadel,” replied James Playfair. “Just so! . . . On board now?” “On board, Crockston!” “Thank you, Mr. James; I thank you with my whole heart.” At these words James Playfair felt a thrill of joy through his whole being. He approached the young girl with moist eyes and quivering lips; perhaps he was going to make an avowal of the sentiments he could no longer repress, when Crockston interfered: “This is no time for grieving,” said he; “we must go to work, and consider what to do.” “Have you any plan, Crockston?” asked the young girl. “I always have a plan,” replied the American: “it is my peculiarity.” “But a good one?” said James Playfair. “Excellent! and all the ministers in Washington could not devise a better; it is almost as good as if Mr. Halliburtt was already on board.” Crockston spoke with such perfect assurance, at the same time with such simplicity, that it must have been the most incredulous person who could doubt his words. “We are listening, Crockston,” said James Playfair. “Good! You, Captain, will go to General Beauregard, and ask a favour of him which he will not refuse you.” “And what is that?” “Good!” said James Playfair, half smiling, “I will do all that, and Beauregard will grant my request very willingly.” “I am perfectly sure of it,” replied the American. “But,” resumed Playfair, “one thing is wanting.” “What is that?” “The scamp.” “He is before you, Captain.” “What, the rebellious subject?” “Is myself; don’t trouble yourself about that.” “Oh! you brave, generous heart,” cried Jenny, pressing the American’s rough hands between her small white palms. “Go, Crockston,” said James Playfair; “I understand you, my friend; and I only regret one thing—that is, that I cannot take your place.” “Well, Crockston, go on.” “Once in the citadel—I know it—I shall see what to do, and rest assured I shall do my best; in the meanwhile, you will be getting your cargo on board.” “Oh, business is now a very unimportant detail,” said the Captain. “Not at all! And what would your Uncle Vincent say to that? We must join sentiment with work; it will prevent suspicion; but do it quickly. Can you be ready in six days?” “Yes.” “Well, let the be ready to start on the 22nd.” “She shall be ready.” “But how will you manage to effect Mr. Halliburtt’s deliverance, and also escape yourself?” “That’s my look-out.” “Dear Crockston, you are going to risk your life then, to save my father!” “Don’t be uneasy, Miss Jenny, I shall risk absolutely nothing, you may believe me.” “Well,” asked James Playfair, “when must I have you locked up?” “To-day—you understand—I demoralise your crew; there is no time to be lost.” “Would you like any money? It may be of use to you in the citadel.” “And intoxicate the gaoler.” “No, an intoxicated gaoler would spoil everything. No, I tell you I have an idea; let me work it out.” “Here, my good fellow, are ten dollars.” “It is too much, but I will return what is over.” “Well, then, are you ready?” “Quite ready to be a downright rogue.” “Let us go to work, then.” “What is that?” “If the General proposes to hang your rebel—you know that military men like sharp work —” “Well, Crockston?” “Well, you will say that you must think about it.” “I promise you I will.” “Ah! Mr. James,” cried the young girl, “how can I ever repay you for such devotion? How shall we ever be able to thank you?” “Jenny, in two hours your father will be in safety near you, or I shall have perished in endeavouring to save him!” Then he left the cabin, saying to himself, “And now he must be carried off at any price, since I must pay for his liberty with my own life and those of my crew.” The hour for action had arrived, the loading of the cotton cargo had been finished since morning; in two hours the ship would be ready to start. James Playfair had left the North Commercial Wharf and gone into the roadstead, so that he was ready to make use of the tide, which would be high at nine o’clock in the evening. “Very well, sir,” replied Mr. Mathew, without making the least remark, “and nine o’clock is the time?” “Nine o’clock, and have the fires lit immediately, and the steam got up.” “Just so.” “Your orders shall be punctually attended to, Captain.” “May God protect us!” repeated the first officer. Eight o’clock struck from the church of St. Philip when the shore-boat ran aground at White Point. The leader came up to him, and, seeing the boat, asked: “Whose craft is that?” “It is a gig belonging to the ,” replied the young man. “And who are you?” “Captain James Playfair.” “I thought you had already started, and were now in the Charleston channels.” “I am ready to start. I ought even now to be on my way but—” “But—” persisted the coastguard. A bright idea shot through James’s mind, and he answered: “One of my sailors is locked up in the citadel, and, to tell the truth, I had almost forgotten him; fortunately I thought of him in time, and I have sent my men to bring him.” “Ah! that troublesome fellow; you wish to take him back to England?” “Yes. “He might as well be hung here as there,” said the coast-guard, laughing at his joke. “So I think,” said James Playfair, “but it is better to have the thing done in the regular way.” “Not much chance of that, Captain, when you have to face the Morris Island batteries.” “Don’t alarm yourself. I got in and I’ll get out again.” “Prosperous voyage to you!” “Thank you.” With this the men went off, and the shore was left silent. “I am he,” replied the man with the cloak. “God be praised!” cried James Playfair. “Embark without losing a minute. Where is Crockston?” “Crockston!” exclaimed Mr. Halliburtt, amazed. “What do you mean?” “The man who has saved you and brought you here was your servant Crockston.” “The man who came with me was the gaoler from the citadel,” replied Mr. Halliburtt. “The gaoler!” cried James Playfair. Evidently he knew nothing about it, and a thousand fears crowded in his mind. “Quite right, the gaoler,” cried a well-known voice. “The gaoler is sleeping like a top in my cell.” “Crockston! you! Can it be you?” exclaimed Mr. Halliburtt. “No time to talk now, master; we will explain everything to you afterwards. It is a question of life or death. Get in quick!” The three men took their places in the boat. “Push off!” cried the captain. Immediately the six oars dipped into the water; the boat darted like a fish through the waters of Charleston Harbour. However, a few minutes later, when they were in the middle of the harbour, Crockston determined to speak, knowing what thoughts were uppermost in Mr. Halliburtt’s mind. “But my daughter—?” asked Mr. Halliburtt. “Is on board the ship which is going to take you to England.” “My daughter there! there!” cried the American, springing from his seat. “Silence!” replied Crockston, “a few minutes, and we shall be saved.” “Well, Mr. James?” said Crockston. “We must have made more than a mile and a half,” replied the Captain. “You don’t see anything, Crockston?” “Nothing; nevertheless, I have good eyes; but we shall get there all right. They don’t suspect anything out there.” These words were hardly finished when the flash of a gun gleamed for an instant through the darkness, and vanished in the mist. “A signal!” cried James Playfair. “Whew!” exclaimed Crockston. “It must have come from the citadel. Let us wait.” A second, then a third shot was fired in the direction of the first, and almost the same signal was repeated a mile in front of the gig. “That is from Fort Sumter,” cried Crockston, “and it is the signal of escape. Urge on the men; everything is discovered.” The boat skimmed over the waves under the sailors’ powerful oars. A cannon boomed in the direction of the town. Crockston heard a ball whiz past them. The bell on the was ringing loudly. A few more strokes and the boat was alongside. A few more seconds and Jenny fell into her father’s arms. The gig was immediately raised, and James Playfair sprang on to the poop. “Is the steam up, Mr. Mathew?” “Yes, Captain.” “Have the moorings cut at once.” A few minutes later the two screws carried the steamer towards the principal channel, away from Fort Sumter. “Yes, Captain.” “Have the lanterns and the fires on deck extinguished; there is a great deal too much light, but we cannot help the reflection from the engine-rooms.” “Too soon, stupids,” cried James Playfair, with a burst of laughter. “Make haste, make haste, Mr. Engineer! We shall get between two fires.” “Too late, stupids,” cried the young Captain, with a regular roar. Then Crockston, who was standing on the poop, cried, “That’s one passed. A few minutes more, and we shall have done with the Rebs.” “Then do you think we have nothing more to fear from Fort Sumter?” asked James. “Right; the position of Fort Moultrie will allow us to go straight for the principal channel. Fire away then, fire away!” “Touched this time!” exclaimed Crockston. “Mr. Mathew!” cried the Captain to his second, who was stationed at the bows, “what has been damaged?” “The bowsprit broken.” “Any wounded?” “No, Captain.” “Well, then, the masts may go to Jericho. Straight into the pass! Straight! and steer towards the island.” “We have passed the Rebs!” cried Crockston; “and, if we must have balls in our hull, I would much rather have the Northerners; they are more easily digested.” “A ship!” “A ship?” cried James. “Yes, on the larboard side.” “Port the helm at once!” cried the Captain. James Playfair understood that in this lay his own safety, Miss Jenny’s, her father’s, and that of all his crew. “How are the engines?” cried he to the engineer. “At the maximum speed,” replied the latter; “the steam is escaping by all the valves.” “Fasten them down,” ordered the Captain. And his orders were executed at the risk of blowing up the ship. “More pressure!” cried James Playfair; “put on more pressure!” “Impossible!” replied the engineer. “The valves are tightly closed; our furnaces are full up to the mouths.” “What difference! Fill them with cotton soaked in spirits; we must pass that frigate at any price.” “Saved!” cried the Captain. The terrified sailors crowded to the stern, and no one dared move a step, whilst the shell was burning with a brisk crackle. Hardly had the shell reached the surface of the water when it burst with a frightful report. “Hurrah! hurrah!” cried the whole crew of the unanimously, whilst Crockston rubbed his hands. In short, they were celebrating the marriage of James Playfair, of the firm of Vincent Playfair & Co., of Glasgow, with Miss Jenny Halliburtt, of Boston. Everyone was happy at this wedding; some at their own happiness, and others at the happiness around them, which is not always the case at ceremonies of this kind. Late in the evening, when the guests had retired, James Playfair took his uncle’s hand. “Well, Uncle Vincent,” said he to him. “Well, Nephew James?” “Are you pleased with the charming cargo I brought you on board the ?” continued Captain Playfair, showing him his brave young wife. “I am quite satisfied,” replied the worthy merchant; “I have sold my cotton at three hundred and seventy-five per cent. profit.”