Frank rose slowly to his feet, and commenced drawing on his clothes, while the little negro disappeared through the door like a flash.

"Mr. Nelson," said the doctor, as soon as he could speak, "you can't make that jump again, sir. I came in to awaken you," he continued, "and was just going to put my hand on you, when you sprang out of your bunk upon your trunk, and then back again; and just as the darkey was coming in, you made another jump, and landed against the door, frightening him so that I actually believe he turned pale. Were you dreaming?"

"Yes," answered Frank, with a laugh; "I was getting out of the way of a torpedo."

"Well, you certainly jumped far enough to get out of the way of almost any thing," replied the doctor, after he had indulged in another hearty fit of laughter. "Hurry up; breakfast is nearly ready."

Frank felt the effects of his agility in the shape of a severe pain over his left eye, which had been occasioned by his head coming in contact with the door-knob, and his "big jump" was the source of a good deal of merriment at the breakfast-table.

Frank went ashore in the ten-o'clock boat, and, after strolling about with his companions for a short time, invented a satisfactory excuse for his absence, and started toward Mr. Abbott's house, which, to his joy, he found open, with a negro engaged in sweeping the steps.

"Boy, who lives here?" he inquired.

The negro gave the desired information, adding: "He ain't hyar though, but missus will be home dis arternoon."

"Where's your master?"

"Oh, he done gone off somewhar. I 'spects he don't like for to see you Yankee sogers hyar."

As the negro ceased speaking, having finished his work, he turned and went into the house, while Frank was about to move away, wondering what was the next thing to be done, when a boy approached and opened the gate.

"What do you want?" asked Frank.

The boy held up a letter which he carried in his hand, and Frank, seeing that it was addressed to Mrs. Abbott, at once concluded that it contained information which might be of the greatest value to him.

"It is all right," said he; "I'll attend to it;" at the same time taking the note and handing some money to the boy, who departed well satisfied. Frank then walked down the street, and, as soon as he was out of sight of the house, opened the letter and read as follows:

HEYWARD'S PLANTATION, March 20, 1864.

"Will be at home at eight o'clock this evening. Have my baggage ready to start for Shreveport early in the morning."

No name was signed to the note, but Frank was certain that he now had the matter in his own hands, and that any preparations Mrs. Abbott might make for her husband's journey to Shreveport would only be thrown away. He at once directed his steps toward the landing, hailed his vessel for a boat, and when he had arrived on board and reported to the captain, showed that gentleman the note, at the same time requesting permission to remain on shore after dark, in order to capture the rebel.

"I should be only too happy to allow you to do so, Mr. Nelson," said the captain, "for you seem to be particularly fortunate in every thing of this description you undertake. But, as it is the admiral's order that all officers repair on board their vessels at sundown, he must be consulted in regard to the matter. Orderly, tell the officer of the deck to have the gig called away. We will go up to the flag-ship," he continued, "and talk to the admiral."

The gig was soon manned, and after Frank had buckled on his sword (for all officers visiting the flag-ship were required to wear their side-arms), he stepped into the boat with the captain, and in a short time they were in the presence of the admiral. The captain, in a few words, explained the nature of the visit, showed him the note Frank had intercepted, and ended by repeating the young officer's request that he might be allowed to remain on shore after dark.

"Certainly," replied the admiral, "certainly. If you succeed, young man, we shall have one less of these secret-service fellows to fear." Then, turning to one of his clerks, he gave him an order which Frank did not hear, after which he asked:

"How did you discover the whereabouts of this man Abbott, Mr. Nelson?"

Frank then proceeded to give the admiral an account of all he had done, how he had seen the rebel's name on the sign, learned his residence, and secured the note. To all of which the latter listened with attention.

"I hope you will succeed in capturing him," said he. "If you do, bring him here; I want a look at him. Here," he continued, as his clerk handed him a letter, "is a request that the provost-marshal will furnish you with a pass. Good luck to you, young man."

Their business being finished, Frank followed the captain out of the cabin, and returned on board the Michigan.

All that afternoon Frank was in a fever of excitement. He was impatient for the night to come, that he might know whether or not his attempt was to be crowned with success. A hundred things might happen to prevent it. The rebel might not come home, or the note might have been written with the intention of having it intercepted, in order to throw the one into whose hands it might fall on the wrong scent; or it might be written in cipher, and mean directly opposite to what Frank had supposed. But he consoled himself with the thought that he had done, and would still continue to do, all in his power to obey the admiral's general order, and if he failed, the blame would not rest with him.

When the sundown boat was called away, Frank, after exchanging his uniform for a citizen's dress, and his cap for a tattered slouch-hat, thrust a revolver into his pocket, stepped into the cutter, and was soon set on shore. He walked directly to the office of the provost-marshal, which was in the hotel, and finding that officer at his desk, handed him the admiral's note, which ran as follows:

"U. S. FLAG-SHIP BLACKHAWK, "OFF ALEXANDRIA, LA., March 20, 1864.

"SIR:—Please furnish the bearer, Acting Ensign Frank Nelson, with a pass. He has important business to perform, which may detain him on shore most of the night, and it is absolutely necessary, for the successful accomplishment of his mission, that he should not be interfered with. Very respectfully, your obd't serv't.,

DAVID D. PORTER, Rear Admiral, Com'd'g Miss. Squadron. U. S. Provost Marshal, Alexandria, La.

"Your business must be important indeed, judging by the language of this note," said the marshal. "You shall not be troubled."

While he was speaking he had been writing an order commanding "all guards and patrols to allow the bearer the freedom of the city, as he was under special orders from the admiral, and must not be detained."

"There," said he, after he had finished the pass and handed it to Frank. "That will take you through all right. You have my best wishes for your success."

Frank thanked him, and putting the pass carefully away in his pocket, walked out of the hotel fully satisfied on one point, and that was, if his success depended upon the good wishes of his friends, failure was impossible. He walked slowly down the street toward the place where the soldiers were encamped; for as it lacked fully an hour and a half of the appointed time, he did not wish to be seen loitering about the house, as it might excite the suspicions of its inmates, who would not fail to send word to Mr. Abbott that the house was being watched. Time moved altogether too slowly for the impatient young officer, but at length he heard the flag-ship's bell strike half-past seven, and as it had begun to grow dark, he walked toward the house, and took his station in the shadow of some trees on the opposite side of the street. At the end of an hour his patience was rewarded, for he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and a man passed by the house. Frank knew, from the suspicious manner in which he gazed about, that if it was not the man for whom he was waiting, it was some other guilty fellow who ought to be secured. Presently he returned, and after again looking cautiously about him, ascended the steps and knocked lightly at the door, which was almost instantly opened, and a voice exclaimed:

"Massa Abbott, I'se glad to"—

The rest of the sentence Frank did not hear, for the moment the man entered the hall, the door was closed again. Now was the time for Frank, who hastily crossed the street, and noiselessly ascended the steps. Here he paused for a moment to draw his revolver, and then suddenly opened the door and sprang into the hall. He was met by the negro, the same, no doubt, whom he had heard welcoming his master, who, not liking the looks of the huge six-shooter which the officer flourished before his eyes, beat a hasty retreat. Frank kept on and entered the parlor, where he found his man standing in the middle of the floor, pale and breathless. No one else was in the room.

"Mr. Abbott," said Frank, "you're my prisoner!"

The man, who was so terrified that he seemed to have lost even the power of speech, surrendered his weapons and submitted to his captor, who led him out of the house and toward the flag-ship, which they reached in safety. The admiral received Frank with great cordiality, and after listening to his account of the manner in which the capture of the prisoner had been effected, he ordered the cutter called away, and the young officer, rejoicing over his success, was sent on board his vessel.



CHAPTER VII.

Frank's First Command.

The next morning, just after quarters, while the officers were getting ready to go on shore, a boat from the flag-ship came alongside, and the officer in charge of it was shown into the cabin, as he said he had business with the captain. Frank, who thought he had accomplished sufficient to satisfy him to remain on board, sat in the wardroom reading, when the orderly entered and informed him that the captain desired his presence in the cabin.

"Mr. Nelson," said he, "here's an order from the admiral, directing me to furnish you with a cutter and an armed crew, and to send you to the flag-ship for orders. I am also instructed to appoint an executive to fill your place during your absence. I expect you will be sent off on some expedition; so you had better prepare for a long trip."

The officer who brought the order having returned to his vessel, the captain accompanied Frank on deck, and ordered the second cutter to be called away and furnished with a crew well armed. In a short time the boat was ready, and Frank, buckling on his side-arms, took leave of the captain and started toward the flag-ship, wondering what duty he was now called upon to perform, and fully determined that whatever orders he might receive, however dangerous or difficult, should be executed, if within the bounds of possibility.

When he arrived on board the Blackhawk, an officer, who appeared to be waiting for him, conducted him into the cabin, where the admiral sat writing at his desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Nelson," said he; "take a chair, sir."

Frank took the seat pointed out to him, and the admiral, taking from his desk a bundle of papers, carefully tied up, continued:

"It has always been my habit, Mr. Nelson, not to let a brave or skillful action pass unrewarded, any more than I would allow a bad one to pass unpunished. I am now about to give you a much more important, and perhaps dangerous, commission than has yet been intrusted to you. This package contains official documents of the greatest importance, and I want you to go down the river, and deliver it to the commanding naval officer, whom you will find at Acklen's plantation, opposite the mouth of Red River. I know there are rebels all along the banks, but whatever you do, don't allow these letters to fall into their hands. There are iron weights in the package, and if you should be in danger of capture, throw it overboard. You will take passage on the army transport that now lies at the stern of this vessel, all ready to start. I send the cutter and armed crew with you, for the reason that the rebels may sink the transport, in which case you can escape in your boat; for those letters must go through, if possible; perhaps the success of this expedition depends upon them. The transport, you will find, is in command of a second-lieutenant. I should feel much safer if I could put one of my own officers in charge, but, as the boat belongs to the army, I have no authority in the matter. After you have executed your orders, return, by first opportunity, to your vessel, and report to me by letter. Now, sir, you may go, for they are waiting for you. Remember, I say the success or failure of this entire expedition may depend upon you; and don't forget that you are the young man that saved the Milwaukee."

Frank bowed himself out of the cabin, sprang into the cutter, and started toward the transport that lay alongside of the bank, a short distance below the flag-ship. As he stepped on board, he was met by a flashy-looking young lieutenant, dressed in a brand-new uniform, who greeted him with the inquiry:

"Are you ready at last? I have been waiting an hour for you. Business is business, you know, and when I command a ship, I don't like to be detained."

The lieutenant said this, probably, to impress upon Frank's mind the important fact that he was the captain of the steamer, and must be respected and obeyed accordingly. Frank, who knew that he was not subject to the orders of the lieutenant only so far as the safety of the vessel was concerned, replied that he had come as soon as he could after he had received his orders, and turning to his men, directed part of them to make the cutter fast to the stern of the steamer, and the others to carry their arms to the boiler-deck, where they could be readily seized in case of emergency. The transport was a small side-wheel boat belonging to the quarter-master's department. The deck-hands were all soldiers—perhaps half a dozen of them in all—the only steamboatmen on board being one pilot, four engineers, and as many firemen. The steamer was armed with two howitzers, mounted on the boiler-deck, and the muskets of the soldiers were stacked in the cabin. The boilers were protected by bales of cotton, which were piled on the guards, and the pilot-house was defended in the same manner. A few bales were also placed on the boiler-deck to serve as a breastwork. The whole was under the command of the lieutenant, who, judging by the orders he issued, knew nothing whatever of the management of a boat.

Frank had been on board but a few moments, when the engineer's bell rang, to inform the pilot that all was ready for the start. The boat was made fast by a single line, which ran from the forecastle to a tree on the bank, and the gang-plank was out. The lieutenant's first order was, "Haul in that plank." The soldiers obeyed, and then came the command for "somebody to run out there and untie that line."

One of the soldiers sprang ashore and began trying to cast off the line, which was drawn as taut as a four-mile current could make it. He worked for several moments, but, of course without success (for the line should first have been slackened up on board), and then called out:

"Loosen up that other end, there!"

"No, no!" replied the lieutenant, "that would allow the boat to swing away from the bank, and then how would you get on board? It must be untied from that tree first."

What difference it could possibly make in regard to the boat's swinging away from the bank, whether the line was first slackened up on shore or on board, Frank could not determine.

He was astonished at the lieutenant's ignorance, and amused at his novel mode of casting off a line, while the sailors, who had gathered in a group on the forecastle, watched the operation with a smile, wondering how the affair would end, as they knew that the line could not be "untied" from the tree unless first slackened up on board. But the lieutenant seemed to have his own idea of the manner in which it ought to be accomplished, and was constantly ordering the man to "Hurry up, there!" The soldiers worked and pulled, but all to no purpose, and the lieutenant, becoming impatient, ordered two more of the men to his assistance. But the knot, which had been awkwardly made, was jammed, and resisted their utmost efforts.

"I never did see such a clumsy set of fellows," said the lieutenant, at length, turning to Frank, who stood beside him, making use of his handkerchief to conceal his laughter. "We ought to have been two miles down the river by this time."

It was evident that he was fast becoming disgusted with his first attempt at "steamboating," but was too proud to ask advice. At length he turned and walked into the cabin, muttering, "I guess they will get it untied before night." But Frank was unwilling to wait so long. The delay was entirely unnecessary, and he had begun to get impatient.

"Men," said he, addressing himself to the cutter's crew, who were convulsed with laughter, "some of you run out that gang-plank, and another slack up that line."

These orders were promptly obeyed, and the difficulty was easily overcome.

"All gone, sir," shouted Frank to the pilot, meaning that the line was cast off, and in a few moments the transport swung off from the bank, and was plowing her way down the river. Frank leaned over the railing, and wondered how a man so utterly ignorant of the management of a steamer, as was the lieutenant, came to be put in command, and at a time, too, when they might be placed in situations that would call into requisition all the skill and judgment of experienced men. He did not at all like the appearance of the young commander, for he was of the type of officers known as "upstarts," who like to show their authority, but are without the ability to successfully fill even the post of corporal. What if the transport should be fired upon and disabled? It was evident that in such an emergency nothing could be expected of a man who could not cast off a line. Frank's commission was too important to be intrusted to the care of such a man, and the young officer felt that he would much rather step into the cutter, and trust to the skill and courage of his twelve sailors, than to remain on board the transport. Calling the coxswain on deck, he directed that if they were attacked, the cutter should be kept ready for instant use, and in case the vessel was disabled, they would attempt to finish their journey in her. After giving these orders, Frank went up into the pilot-house, where he found the man at the wheel in no enviable state of mind.

"I'm glad to see you," said he, as Frank entered, "for I want to talk to you. I'm not at all pleased with the looks of our skipper," he went on to say, "and how he came to be placed in command is a mystery to me. Perhaps the quarter-master thinks, like a good many men who see the Mississippi River for the first time, that any body can take charge of a steamboat; but suppose we should run aground—what does that lieutenant know about sparring off? or what if something about the engine should let down? why, we might go forty miles down the river before he could get us tied up to the bank. Besides, if we are fired upon, he'll surrender. Now, mark my words, he'll surrender before he will fight, and I'm opposed to that, for I was a prisoner once."

"So was I," said Frank, "and I don't mean to fall into the rebels' hands again, if I can help it. I'll never be surrendered. That lieutenant may not fight, but I think his men will, and I have twelve good fellows, all well armed, on whom I know I can depend."

"Then I feel better," said the pilot. "That's talk I like to hear; for if we are not disabled, we'll go through all right. There goes the bell! Go down and get your dinner."

Frank deposited his weapons on a bench in the pilot-house and ran down into the cabin, where he found the lieutenant and two engineers seated at the table. The former seemed to have forgotten his failure of the morning, for he talked a good deal in a condescending manner, as if addressing his inferiors; and to Frank's inquiry if he expected trouble from the rebels, replied that he had not given the matter a moment's thought; that if they did attack the vessel, it would not be the first time he had smelt powder, and if the engineers and pilot could be depended upon, he had no fears but that he should be able to take the boat safely through. Frank replied that he trusted the officers would not be found wanting in courage; and when he had finished his meal, he went on deck again, and surprised the pilot, by offering to relieve him while he went down to his dinner. In his spare moments Frank, who wisely regarded it as the duty of every officer to acquaint himself with every part of the management of a vessel, had learned to handle the wheel, and he was an excellent steersman. He could make a landing or get a boat under way, as well as the most experienced pilot; and in the present instance he was fully capable of steering the boat, for as the water in the river was high, there was no danger of getting out of the channel.

The pilot gave him his place, and after watching the movements of the young officer, who handled the wheel with all the confidence of an old river man, he went below to his dinner, satisfied that he had left the boat in safe hands. Frank remained at the wheel most of the afternoon, for the pilot, who would be on watch all night, had gone to bed to obtain a few hours' rest. About four o'clock, however, he made his appearance, and Frank went down into the cabin, and was engaged in reading a, newspaper, when he heard the pilot shout through the trumpet to the engineers:

"Here they are! Now, push her ahead strong. There's a battery just below."

At the same moment there was a rush of feet on deck, and the lieutenant entered the cabin pale and breathless.

"We're captured," said he, in a faint voice. "We're surrounded. The bank is black with rebels—ten thousand of them at least! It's no use to think of fighting."

As he ceased speaking, he ran on deck again, followed by Frank, who found his men drawn up behind the cotton-bales, with their weapons in their hands, waiting for orders. The soldiers had cast loose the howitzers, and stood at their posts. The lieutenant stopped a moment, just long enough to say, "Boys, we're all captured!" and then ran into the pilot-house. As Frank stood talking to his men, and encouraging them with the famous words that never fail to nerve an American seaman—"Don't give up the ship!"—a rebel rode out on the bank, in full view of the steamer, and shouted:

"Come ashore here, or we'll sink you."

Frank looked toward the pilot-house, where the lieutenant had taken refuge, and waited to hear his answer. To his surprise and horror, he saw a hand extended waving a white handkerchief, and the coxswain exclaimed:

"Mr. Nelson, he's surrendering us, sir!"

With one bound Frank sprang up the steps that led to the pilot-house, caught the handkerchief and threw it overboard; and at the same moment the lieutenant was seized from behind and thrown to the deck. He instantly recovered his feet, and turning fiercely upon Frank and the pilot, exclaimed:

"What are you about? Do you know that you have rendered yourselves liable to a court-martial? I'm commander of this vessel, and I'll shoot the first man that resists my authority!"

"You shall never surrender us," said Frank, firmly, not the least intimidated by the other's threat. "If you will give orders for your men to prepare for action, no one will oppose you. We'll stick to you as long as a plank of this vessel remains above water."

"I know my own business," replied the lieutenant. "Resistance is useless. We never could get by that battery, and I'm going to surrender to save our lives. Turn her toward the shore, pilot!"

As he spoke, he walked out on deck, and calling out to the rebel, who had continued to follow the vessel:

"I'll surrender! Pilot, I tell you to turn her in toward the shore."

The pilot gave a glance at Frank, and reading in his face a firm determination to go through if possible, held the boat's head down the stream, while a murmur of indignation arose from the men on the lower deck, and the coxswain said, turning to his companions:

"Sink my tarry wig, if that ar' chap ain't going to give us up without our having the least bit of a fight."

Frank stood for a moment irresolute. Ought he to oppose the lieutenant, the lawful commander of the vessel? Was it his duty to stand by and allow himself and his men to be surrendered without even a show of resistance? And his dispatches, the importance of which the admiral had stated in such emphatic language, should he throw them overboard, instead of delivering them, as he had hoped to do, to the officer to whom they were addressed? No! Sooner than do that, he would put the cowardly lieutenant under arrest, and give the command to the pilot, a man whom he knew understood his business, and would not think of surrender until it had been clearly proved that successful resistance was entirely out of the question.

While these thoughts were passing through Frank's mind, the boat, under an increased head of steam, had been rapidly nearing the battery, which could be distinctly seen about half a mile below, planted on the bank of the river.

"Come ashore, if you surrender," shouted the rebel.

"Pilot," said the lieutenant, in a weak voice, "I order you"—

He never finished that order, for Frank seized him, and pulling him into the pilot-house, closed the door. He made an attempt to draw a revolver, but the pilot threw him to the deck, when Frank wrested the weapon from him and retained it in his possession.

"All ready forward there?" he shouted to the men on the boiler-deck.

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the coxswain. "Mr. Nelson's in command," he added, turning to his companions. "Douse my to'-gallant top-lights but we'll have a skirmish now sure."

"Do you surrender?" shouted the man on the bank.

The reply he received was a shot from the pilot's revolver, which made him beat a hasty retreat. He had scarcely disappeared when a cloud of men arose from behind the levee, and a volley of bullets rattled into the boat. It was answered by a shout of defiance from the men behind the cotton-bales; but the pilot, who stood just in front of Frank, staggered for a moment, and sank heavily to the deck. Frank was horrified. With that man at the wheel, he had entertained no fears of their ability to run by the battery; but now that he was left alone, with the duties of both commander and pilot devolving upon him, his hopes fell again. But he could not remain long inactive, for the boat, being without a guide, began to swing toward the shore. Hastily seizing the wheel, he turned her head down the river again, when the battery opened upon them, and a storm of shells plunged into the water and whistled through the air about the boat. Only one struck her, and that passed through one of the smoke-stacks, and bursting, demolished part of the roof of the pilothouse. Then, as fast as the guns could be loaded, the battery played upon the transport, and Frank heard the shells crashing through the cabin and exploding in the air above him. But he stood bravely at his post, his only fears being of his inability to turn the point on which the battery was planted, or that one of the shells might penetrate the cotton-bales and strike the boilers or some part of the machinery. But as he neared the battery, he discovered that the boat was struck less frequently; that the rebels, in their excitement, were firing wildly. His own men, cool and collected, encouraged by the example of their officer, had not yet fired a shot; but when the boat arrived opposite the battery, they opened upon it with the howitzers and small arms with terrible effect. The point, which extended into the bend where the battery stood, was long and sharp, a bad place for one unaccustomed to handling a boat; but Frank passed it in safety, under a full head of steam, and cheers of triumph arose from his men, which the rebels answered with yells of rage, and continued to follow the transport, sending bullets and shells after her as fast as they could reload. But they were speedily left behind, and their yells died away in the distance.

Frank's dispatches were safe.



CHAPTER VIII.

An unlucky fight.

As soon as Frank was certain that the rebels had given up the pursuit, he called two of his men on deck, and directed them to carry the pilot, who now began to show signs of returning consciousness, into the cabin.

During the fight the lieutenant had remained behind one of the cotton-bales, where the pilot had thrown him, so completely overcome with fear that he did not think of renewing his attempts to enforce his authority. But now that the danger was over, he arose to his feet and walked out of the pilot-house. As the sailors came up, in obedience to Frank's order, they passed the lieutenant without giving the customary salute, and acted as though they considered him beneath their notice. They lifted the pilot tenderly in their arms, carried him down stairs, and laid him on his bed.

There was no surgeon on board, and Frank was anxious to reach a gun-boat as soon as possible, in order to place the pilot, who was the only one injured, under the care of a medical man. He kept his place at the wheel, his supper being brought up to him by one of his men, and shortly after dark came within sight of the lights of a vessel which was lying at anchor in the stream. He blew the whistle, to let her know that he was approaching, to which the steamer, which proved to be a gun-boat, replied by hoisting her signal-lights. Frank having no signals, whistled again, and rang the bells for the engineer to run slowly. As soon as he came within hailing distance, a voice called out:

"Steamer ahoy!"

"Ay, ay, sir!" shouted Frank, in reply.

"What steamer is that?"

"Army transport Key-West, bound for the mouth of the river, with dispatches from the admiral."

"Come alongside, here," shouted the voice.

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Frank, and he commenced turning the boat's head toward the vessel, while a hurrying of feet and a noise of dropping handspikes on the gun-deck, told him in plain language that the captain of the gun-boat was not at all satisfied with the report he had made, and had called his crew to quarters, to be in readiness to sink the transport if she should attempt to run by. It was an uncommon thing during the expedition for boats to run in Red River after night, unless supplied with the necessary signals, and the young officer was not at all surprised at the precautions taken by the gun-boat.

Frank by this time had turned the transport around, and was coming up at the stern of the gun-boat, when the lieutenant came on deck, and entering the pilot-house, inquired:

"Are you the captain of this ship?"

"I have had no orders to act as such," replied Frank.

"Then why do you answer hails, and land here without my permission? I'll have you court-martialed."

"I answered the hails because you were not on deck; and I land here because I have been ordered to do so by the captain of that gun-boat."

"Well, I am not under his orders; he has no authority over me, and I order you to turn around at once, and start down the river again."

"If I should undertake that," replied Frank, with a laugh, "this vessel wouldn't last long. Every cannon on this aide of that gun-boat points straight at us, and if we should turn around, they would blow us out of water."

"They would, eh?" said the lieutenant, angrily. "I'll have the whole lot of them up before a court-martial. I'm a second-lieutenant, sir, and must not be detained, as I am on important business. Turn around at once."

Frank made no reply, and at that moment the bow of the transport touched the gun-boat, and one of the sailors sprang out with a line. As soon as the boat was made fast, he put on his side-arms, and taking his dispatches, walked out of the pilot-house, leaving the lieutenant almost beside himself with rage. As soon as he stepped on board the gun-boat, he was shown into the presence of Captain Wilson, the same who had commanded the Ticonderoga when Frank was attached to her.

"Oh, is it you, Mr. Nelson?" he exclaimed, seizing the young officer's hand and shaking it heartily. "Then it's all right. I did not know but you were a rebel, and were going to run by; so I got my guns all ready to sink you. Sit down. Are you in command?"

Frank replied that he was not, and then proceeded to repeat the orders he had received from the admiral, telling the captain of the fight with the battery, but carefully omitting any thing that related to the conduct of the lieutenant, he ended by saying that the pilot was wounded, and requesting that the doctor might be sent on board to attend to him, which was done at once, the captain offering to send another pilot to take his place.

The transport lay alongside nearly two hours, during which time the pilot's wound, which was not dangerous, was dressed. The doctor then declared that he was able to go on to the mouth of the river, where he could be placed under the care of an army surgeon. Frank then took his leave of the captain, and stepped on board the transport, accompanied by one of the gun-boat pilots, who was well-known to the young officer, and he was confident that the lieutenant, if he should again take it into his head to give any unnecessary orders, would hear the truth plainly told. He was an old acquaintance of the wounded pilot, from whom he had heard the whole history of the trip from Alexandria; but as he had said nothing about the matter to Frank, the latter was not aware that he knew it.

The pilot took his station at the wheel, while Frank seated himself on the boiler-deck railing. The lieutenant stood close by, and, without waiting to hear whether or not the engineers were ready to start, shouted:

"Untie that line."

"Hold on!" shouted the pilot. "Do you want to send us adrift without any steam? Wait till I tell you we're all ready."

The engineers of the transport, taking advantage of the landing, had allowed the steam to go down, in order to repair some part of the machinery that was out of order, and had the line been cast off just then, the boat would have been at the mercy of the current, and in danger of sinking, for a short distance below lay an iron-clad ram, anchored in the river. The lieutenant had given his command in a loud tone, in order to be heard by the crew of the gun-boat, and the rebuff he had met from the pilot did not tend to quiet his feelings, which were considerably agitated by the thought that he was not in reality the commander of the vessel. He was astonished at the pertinacity with which his subordinates (as he considered them) countermanded his orders, and wondered what was the use of being captain of a vessel if he was not to be obeyed. But perhaps the new pilot did not know who he was. He would inform him. With this determination, he walked up to the pilot-house, and inquired:

"Do you know, sir, that I command this boat?"

"Yes," replied the pilot, "I know all about that. But you had better go and turn in; you are only in the way here. All ready, Mr. Nelson," he continued, as the engineer's bell rang at this moment.

Frank gave the necessary orders, and in a few moments they were again on their way down the river, while the lieutenant walked into the cabin and threw himself on a lounge, heartily wishing there were no gun-boat men in existence. As soon as they were fairly under way, Frank, seeing that the lieutenant took no further notice of what was going on, ran below to set the watch; then, after satisfying himself that every thing was right about decks, and that their weapons were ready for instant use, he stretched himself on a blanket in the cabin, and with his precious dispatches (which he had carried with him wherever he went) for a pillow, was soon fast asleep.

About midnight he was suddenly awakened by a terrific crash, and sprang to his feet to find the cabin shrouded in darkness and filled with smoke. Hastily thrusting his dispatches into his pocket, he commenced groping for his side-arms, which, on retiring, he had placed by his side, while a commotion on deck told him that the crew were hurrying to their stations. When he had found his sword, he ran out of the cabin, and saw his men drawn up behind the cotton-bales, under charge of the coxswain, who ran up to his officer and hurriedly asked for orders. The latter did not long remain ignorant of the nature of the attack, for a shell plunged into the cabin which he had just left, and, exploding with a deafening report, filled the air with fragments of furniture, and tore a large hole in the deck above the boilers. The night was very dark, but still there was light enough for Frank to see that the boat, no longer obeying her helm, was drifting broadside toward the battery, the position of which could be easily determined by the flash of its guns; and it was evident that unless those guns could be speedily silenced, the transport would be altogether demolished, or disabled so that she would fall into the hands of the rebels. Turning to the coxswain, Frank inquired:

"Is that cutter ready for immediate use?"

"All ready, sir," was the answer.

"Let loose those guns, then. Fire!"

The two howitzers belched forth their contents, but while they were being reloaded, another broadside from the battery plunged into the boat, followed by the hissing and shrieking of steam. A shot had struck the boilers! The thought had scarcely passed through Frank's mind, when the pilot sprang down the steps, exclaiming:

"Mr. Nelson, the tiller-rope is shot away, sir, and the boat is on fire!"

In short, much sooner than Frank had expected, the transport was a complete wreck.

The cotton-bales on the guards had been set on fire by a bursting shell; the tiller-rope shot away, rendering it impossible to steer the boat; the boilers penetrated, and the engine-room filled with hot steam, which now began to rise and envelop the men on the boiler-deck. Soldiers and sailors at once deserted their quarters and ran about in confusion, while Frank, with his handkerchief in his mouth, to prevent his inhaling the steam, stood wondering, where so many things were to be done, which ought to be done first. He was quickly called to action by the pilot, who, as he ran down the steps that led to the forecastle, exclaimed:

"Let every man take care of himself!"

When that man, who had been in nearly all the battles fought on the Mississippi River—who had run the batteries at Vicksburg, and had twice, in the heat of action, swam from a sinking vessel—when he deserted his post, it was useless for any one to remain. The transport could be of no further use to them, and to stay on board was to court either death from the hot, blinding steam, or the shells that all the while came crashing into the boat, or capture and hard treatment at the hands of the rebels. So thought Frank, as he followed his men to the forecastle, intending to enter the cutter, and, if possible, run by the battery and reach the Mississippi.

The steam rolled over the lower deck in thick clouds, rendering it impossible for him to go aft. There was now but one way to reach the cutter, and that was to jump overboard and swim to her. This order was promptly given, and as promptly obeyed by the men, who sprang into the water, one after another, followed by Frank, who, however, had lingered a moment to pull off his side-arms and coat, which would only impede his progress, and to secure his dispatches, which he tied to his waist with a strong cord he happened to have in his pocket.

But when he reached the stern of the boat, he found that this means of escape had been destroyed. A shell from the battery had struck the cutter, and her wreck, still hold by the rope with which she had been made fast, floated along with the steamer, which was slowly drifting toward the bank. Only one of his men was to be seen, and that was the coxswain, who was holding on to the wreck, awaiting the appearance of his officer. The others, giving up all hopes of escape, had doubtless turned toward the shore.

"Now, here's a job, sir," said the coxswain, apparently as unconcerned as if there had not been a rebel within a hundred miles. "Here is a job. What's to be done now, sir?"

Frank had just asked himself the same question. He could easily reach the shore, which was but a few yards distant, but there he would certainly be captured by the rebels, who were running along the bank, yelling like demons.

There was but one course he could pursue and save himself and dispatches, and that was to swim down the river and endeavor to pass the battery. In the darkness he might escape undiscovered.

"Bob, are you a good swimmer?" he asked, turning to the coxswain.

"Yes sir! can swim all day," was the reply.

"Then follow me as silently as possible, and we may yet escape."

As Frank spoke, he swam down the river with swift, noiseless strokes, anxious to get as far as possible from the boat before the fire, which now began to make rapid headway, should light up the river and discover them to the rebels. The latter had ceased firing, and were scattered along the bank, making prisoners of the transport's crew as fast as they touched the shore. When Frank had reached the place where the battery was stationed, he turned upon his back, and allowed himself to float along with the current, and, aided by the darkness and the smoke of the burning transport, which blew down the river, he and his companion passed the dangerous point undiscovered. Here Frank again struck out, his every movement followed by the coxswain, who was close behind him, and who floated through the water like a cork.

For nearly an hour they remained in the river, and it was not until the shouts of the rebels could be no longer heard, that Frank, feeling for the present safe from pursuit, swam to the shore and sat down to rest, and to determine upon their future movements.



CHAPTER IX.

Up the Washita.

All noise of pursuit, if any had been made, had died away, and not a sound disturbed the stillness of the woods. But Frank had learned, by experience, that silence was not indicative of safety, for it might, at any moment, be broken by the report of muskets, or a sudden demand for surrender from enemies who had followed them so silently that their approach had not been discovered. He bent suspicious glances upon the woods on all sides of him, and was ready to plunge into the water again upon hearing the least sounds of pursuit.

What had become of the wounded pilot, the lieutenant, and the rest of the cutter's crew? All who had succeeded in reaching the shore, were, beyond a doubt, prisoners.

Frank shuddered when he thought of the hard fare and harder treatment that awaited the poor fellows, recalling to mind incidents of his own capture and escape, which made him doubly anxious to reach the Mississippi as soon as possible, where he would be safe among friends.

After resting nearly an hour, for their long swim had wearied them, they continued their flight down the river, being careful to keep close to the bank, so that in case of emergency they could again take to the water. The shore was covered with logs and bushes, and their progress was slow and laborious. But daylight came at length, and shortly afterward they discovered a transport coming up the river. When she arrived opposite to them, Frank hailed her, and the boat landed and took them on board. Frank gave the information that there was a battery above, and the captain, not liking the idea of trusting his unarmed vessel within range of its guns, ordered the pilot to round-to and start down the river again. The order was obeyed at once, and Frank and the coxswain, who now began to breathe more freely, went below and stood before the fire-doors to dry their clothing. About noon they arrived at the Mississippi River, the transport landing alongside the vessel of the commanding naval officer, to whom Frank delivered his dispatches in triumph, at the same time apologizing for his appearance, for he was without coat, hat, or side-arms.

Among these dispatches of the admiral were orders for two tin-clads to report at Alexandria. These vessels were to be used to keep the banks clear of rebels, to carry dispatches, and to convoy unarmed steamers up and down the river. The necessary orders were promptly issued, and in a short time the tin-clads came alongside; their commanders received their instructions, after which the vessels steamed up Red River, one of them having Frank and the coxswain on board. The former had in his possession several official documents addressed to the admiral. If he could have seen the inside of one of them, he would have found (greatly to his surprise) that it contained a complete history of the run from Alexandria, that it spoke in the highest terms of his skill and bravery, and ended with a recommendation for a master's appointment. This letter had been written by the captain to whom Frank had delivered his dispatches, he having learned the full particulars from the coxswain, whom he had summoned into his presence while Frank was in the wardroom eating his dinner. The sailor described all that had happened in glowing language, dwelling with a good deal of emphasis upon the "pluck" displayed by his young officer, and the ignorance and cowardice of the lieutenant, and ended with saying, "He didn't think of nothing, sir, but them dispatches; and it an't every man that could have saved 'em, sir." The captain fully agreed with the coxswain, and when the latter was dismissed, he gave his pants a vigorous hitch, and said to himself, "If Mr. Nelson don't get another stripe around his arm now, may I be keelhauled." And one, to have seen him, would have thought that he was as much pleased at the prospect as though he was about to receive the appointment himself. Frank, of course, knew nothing of this, and little imagining that he was carrying a recommendation for his promotion, he put the letters carefully away in his pocket, thinking, no doubt, they were all-important official documents.

A short time before dark they arrived at the junction of the Black and Washita Rivers, where Frank found the Michigan anchored, in company with four or five other gun-boats. He reported his safe return to his captain, and then went into the wardroom and sat down to report to the admiral by letter, according to his instructions. After all he had passed through, one would suppose that his report would have been a long one; but he wisely thought that all the admiral cared to know was that his dispatches had been safely delivered. He therefore wrote, in the briefest manner—

"I have the honor to report that, in obedience to your orders of the 20th inst., I took passage on board the United States army transport "Key-West," for the mouth of Red River, with dispatches, which were delivered into the hands of the commanding naval officer there. I have to-day returned on board my vessel."

This was all. No glowing description of the gallant manner in which he had taken the transport by the battery, no mention of the ever-watchful eye he had kept upon his dispatches, or of his long swim from the burning wreck, but a few simple lines, that told the admiral all he wished to know; namely, that his letters had reached their destination. This report Frank placed before the captain, who wrote upon it "approved and respectfully forwarded," (for all letters from subordinate officers to the admiral had to pass through the captain's hands,) and the letter was put into the general mail. Frank then, in obedience to the captain's order, proceeded to give that gentleman a minute account of the manner in which he had executed his orders, together with the names of the men belonging to the cutter's crew who were missing, and wound up with the request that "something might be done for the coxswain," for he was a brave man, and a good sailor. As the Michigan had but one boatswain's mate, (she was entitled to two,) the captain determined to promote the man, who was at once summoned into the cabin and presented with the boatswain's whistle. He retired, proud of his promotion, and firm in his belief that "the captain and Mr. Nelson were the best men afloat."

Frank, so weary that he could scarcely walk, was glad to get to bed; but the captain sat for a long time at his desk, writing a letter to the admiral, which contained the statement that, in his opinion, "Acting Ensign Frank Nelson, by the gallant manner in which he had executed the important business intrusted to him, had nobly earned his promotion, and, by the skill and judgment he had exhibited in handling the transport, had shown that he was fully capable of taking charge of a vessel of his own, and that his past history, taken in connection with his recent exploit, was sufficient guarantee that the honor of the flag would never suffer in his hands."

Frank, all unconscious of the admiration his gallant behavior had excited in the mind of the captain, slept soundly until daylight, when he was called up to get the vessel under way. The expedition was composed of five gun-boats, and its destination was Monroe, a small town about two hundred miles up Washita River. Its object was to capture cotton, and to destroy any fortifications that might be found along the banks. The remainder of the fleet, which was at Alexandria when Frank left, had gone up Red River, toward Shreveport. Had he been allowed his choice in the matter, Frank would have preferred to accompany the latter expedition, as he then would have been able, after Shreveport had been captured, to visit the prison in which he had been confined, and from which he had escaped in so remarkable a manner. He thought over all the scenes through which he had passed—his capture, the march to Shreveport, his flight from the prison, the bayonet-fight in the woods, the chase by blood-hounds—and they seemed to him like a dream.

George Le Dell, who was the officer of the deck, stood close beside Frank, gazing about as if every object that met his eye was a familiar one. Every turn of the paddle-wheels was bringing him nearer to the home of his childhood, from which he was now excluded by the stern mandate of his rebel father. Ever since he had been attached to the Michigan, he and Frank had been bosom friends. The dangers through which they had passed while fugitives from a rebel prison—their hair-breadth escapes from recapture—could never be forgotten. No one on board besides Frank knew any thing of George's past history. In accordance with the latter's desire, the secret was closely kept, and no one imagined that the pale, quiet young officer was any relation to the rebel general whose house it had been ordered should be burned. Ever since the receipt of that order, every one remarked that George Le Dell had been unusually thoughtful, but no one knew the cause.

"Mr. Nelson," said he, at length, "I wish I could have gone up Red River. I want to see home once more, but I don't want to stand by and see the old house burned over the heads of my mother and sisters. I don't deny that the order is a just one, but I don't want to see it executed. I begin to believe that I am a good prophet," he continued, after a moment's pause. "I told father, in the last letter I ever wrote to him, that this war would bring him nothing but suffering and disgrace, and I think he will find that I told the truth."

As George ceased speaking, he turned and walked to another part of the deck, to meet the captain, who at that moment came out of his cabin.

Among all the ship's company, there was but one that could sympathize with George, and that one was Frank. The young officer cherished an honest enmity toward the traitors whose bloody hands were stretched out to pull down the Old Flag under which his ancestors had fought and died, but when Frank looked upon the pale face of his messmate, and listened to his oft-repeated sentiments of loyalty, and heard him, in his quiet way, expressing his firm belief in the final triumph of the Government and the total overthrow of the rebellion, and when he witnessed his quiet submission to his cruel fate, knowing that he was cut off from all further intercourse with his relatives, he could not help pitying both him and his rebel parents. But he knew, from those letters he had read, and which George still preserved, and from what he had witnessed on that memorable night when he and his companions had stopped at the plantation and asked for food, that the general and his family had taken part with the rebellion, not to secure any rights which they imagined had been denied them, but to assist in "establishing a confederacy of their own, whose corner-stone should be slavery," and to destroy "every vestige of the old Union." Like George, he knew that the order to burn the house was a just one; but he would have been much better pleased had some other boat been selected to execute it. He did not pity the rebels so much, but he did not want to witness the sorrow his messmate would experience when he saw the home of his boyhood enveloped in flames.

The next day, as the two friends stood together on deck, George suddenly said—

"We're almost there. I know these woods well. I've caught many a string of fish off that log that lies in the water just ahead."

About half a mile further on, the Michigan came round a sharp bend in the river, and they saw the plantation before them. Every thing looked just as it did on that long-to-be-remembered night when George had suddenly presented himself before his relatives, who thought him safe in the prison at Tyler. There were the broad stone steps that led up to the portico on which the major had stood while making known his wants, and just in front of them were the posts to which the general and his sons had fastened their horses before entering the house.

The fleet did not stop, as they had expected, but kept on up the river, and in a few moments more the plantation was out of sight. No doubt the burning of the house was to be put off until their return.

The expedition reached Monroe without mishap, and without seeing a single armed rebel, only stopping now and then to pick up cotton, which was scattered all along the bank. The vessels remained at anchor in front of the town for two days, and after burning the public buildings, and picking up some escaped Union prisoners, started down the river again. The Michigan led the way, and on the afternoon of the second day came to anchor in front of General Le Dell's plantation.

"Mr. Nelson," said the captain, as he stepped down out of the pilot-house, "order two companies of small-armed men to be called away, and you and Mr. Le Dell get ready to go on shore with me. By the way," he added, turning to George, "I have orders to burn out this rebel namesake of yours."

"So I have heard, sir," replied George, while not a muscle of his face quivered to show the surprise and sorrow he felt at being obliged to accompany the expedition ashore. He had hoped that some other officer would be chosen to accompany the captain, but he could not ask to be excused from duty without exciting suspicions. The reason why he did not wish to go could be easily guessed, and if the truth became known, it would be followed by what he particularly desired to avoid—the sympathy of all his messmates. He would accompany the expedition, but he would neither enter the house or go into the presence of his mother and sisters, and he might return without being recognized. By the time he had buckled on his sword and returned to the deck the men were ready, when, in obedience to Frank's order, he marched them on board the tug, which lay at the stern of the Michigan. When they reached the shore, Frank instructed George to post sentries all around the house, both to guard against surprise, and also to prevent the escape of any rebel soldiers who might chance to be in the building, after which he accompanied the captain to the door, where they were met by Mrs. Le Dell and her daughters, who coldly received their salutations, and waited for them to make known the object of their visit.

"Madam," said the captain, addressing himself to Mrs. Le Dell, "I am ordered to burn your house."

"I have been expecting it for a long time," was the reply.

"I will give you a reasonable time," continued the captain, "to remove your valuables."

The lady then requested that an hour might be allowed her to send for a neighbor, who lived several miles distant, to come with his team to remove the furniture to a place of safety, as all the wagons about the plantation had been given up to the rebel army. This was granted, and a note, which was first presented for the inspection of the captain, was at once dispatched to summon the neighbor.

In the meantime, Frank and George were strolling about the plantation, the latter feasting his eyes on every familiar object, and recalling to mind incidents of the "good old times," as he expressed it. Frank also recognized two objects; one was the barn where he and his fellow-fugitives had halted to hold a consultation before going up to the house; and the other was the fence behind which the captain had left their prisoner, bound hand and foot. While thus engaged, a little boy, who had approached them without being discovered, suddenly called out,

"George!"

The latter turned, as the familiar voice reached his ear, and held out his hands to his brother, who sprang toward him, threw his arms around his neck, and burst into tears. There was one among George's relatives who still remembered and loved him.

"George," sobbed the little fellow, "are you a Yankee 'bolitionist?"

Tears choked George's utterance, and the boy, suddenly breaking from his arms, ran toward the house, and scrambling up the steps, burst into the room where the captain and ladies were seated, and astonished them all with:

"Mother, mother! George is here! He's come back!"

Both mother and daughter appeared to be considerably agitated upon receiving this news, and the captain noticing it, the suspicion flashed across his mind that it was one of their rebel friends. He glanced out at the door, and saw his two officers standing quietly together, the sentinels walking their beats, and felt satisfied that the rebel, whoever he was, might consider himself a prisoner.

"Who do you mean, my little man?" he asked, putting his hand on the boy's head. "What is his other name?"

"George Le Dell," replied the boy, promptly. "He's my brother. He's out there," and he pointed toward the place where George and Frank were standing.

"Is that your brother?" asked the captain in surprise, as he turned toward Mrs. Le Dell for an explanation.

"I have a son in the Federal navy," replied the lady.

"Then, madam," said the captain, "if that young man out there is your son, allow me to say that you have every reason to be proud of him."

At this moment the neighbor for whom they had sent arrived, and he and the captain held a long conversation; after which, to his surprise, Frank was ordered to collect the men and march them on board the tug. The Michigan remained at her anchorage until the flag-ship of the expedition came down, when the two captains had a short consultation, and both vessels got under way and steamed down the river. The reason given why the order to burn the house was not executed was this: Unlike the majority of rebel commanders, General Le Dell had always treated Union prisoners who had fallen into his hands with the greatest humanity. Although he seemed to be particularly spiteful toward George, whom he called a "young traitor," he always endeavored to make the condition of other prisoners as tolerable as possible. The truth of this was attested by the soldiers they had picked up at Monroe, all of whom were officers, and they had done much toward saving the property. The captain of the Michigan had delayed to fulfill his orders until the arrival of his superior, in order to communicate some news he had received from the man who had been sent to remove the furniture, and when the flag-ship arrived, the order had been countermanded.

"Perhaps every thing will come out right after the war," said George, as the two friends stood watching the plantation as long as it remained in eight. "If it does, we'll have the old house to live in."

On the way down the river, large quantities of cotton were captured, which made both officers and men look forward to a good share of prize-money, and one afternoon—about a week after leaving Monroe—they reached Black River in safety.



CHAPTER X.

The Promotion.

The next day, in obedience to orders from the admiral, the Michigan steamed up Red River, and came to an anchor in front of Fort De Russy. A few rebel soldiers had taken possession of the fortifications, and the vessel had scarcely dropped her anchor when they opened upon her with muskets. All hands were ordered under cover, and for two days were kept closely confined below. The bullets, which constantly whistled over the deck, did no damage beyond cutting down the flag—which, however was promptly hoisted again—and battering up the officers' rooms on the quarter-deck, which were not iron-clad. Several attempts were made to dislodge the rebels, but, as usual, without success. On the third day, however, a heavy firing up the river, in the direction of Alexandria, announced that the expedition was returning, and the rebels, fearing capture, hastily withdrew. Toward evening the fleet came in sight, some of the transports having gun-boats alongside of them for protection. The entire fleet bore marks of the handiwork of the rebels, in the shape of battered casemates, broken chimneys, and shattered upper works. Little had been accomplished beyond the capture of cotton, and both officers and men teemed delighted to find themselves once more on the way to the Mississippi River.

In about an hour after the first boats of the fleet had made their appearance, a tin-clad came down, bearing the admiral's flag, and rounded-to and landed a short distance below the Michigan. Close behind her came another of the mosquito fleet, towed by a transport. Both vessels were badly cut up, especially the gun-boat, which was almost a wreck. Both chimneys had either been broken off by branches of trees or shattered by a shell, and her casemates were pierced in a hundred places. Her engines had also been disabled, and her wheel hung motionless in the water. Still she retained enough of her former appearance for Frank to recognize in her his old vessel, the Boxer; besides, he saw his cousin on the guards waving his handkerchief to him. While Frank stood watching the vessel, wondering how any of her crew could have escaped, and how Archie had conducted himself during the fights through which he had passed, the captain came up out of his cabin and exclaimed:

"Mr. Nelson, you're wanted on board the flagship! Don't wait to get your side-arms, but go at once. The admiral is in a great hurry to see you!"

Frank, wondering what new orders he was about to receive, ran down the ladder that led to the afterguard, reached the shore on a plank that extended from the stern of the vessel to the bank, and in a short time was in the presence of the admiral.

That gentleman was so busy that he did not notice Frank, until one of his clerks exclaimed:

"Admiral! here's Captain Nelson, sir."

"Ah, yes," said the admiral, scarcely looking up from his work. "Sit down, captain; I'm very busy just at present."

Captain! Frank knew that neither the admiral nor his clerks were in the habit of making mistakes, but he thought they were certainly mistaken this time. Perhaps they were so busy they had not taken time to see who he was. But he was not kept long in suspense, for the admiral, after signing his name to several documents, turned in his chair, and picking up some letters that lay on his desk, handed them to Frank, saying:

"Captain, there are your orders. I only wanted to see you to say that I wish them obeyed with the least possible delay. Have the Boxer back here as soon as you can, for I want to use her. Get your baggage on board and start at once."

Frank, so bewildered that he scarcely knew what the admiral was saying, took the letters and hurried back to the Michigan. The captain met him at the gangway, and extending his hand, said, with a smile:

"I'm sorry to have you leave us, Mr. Nelson. I suppose you have got it?"

"I have something, sir," replied Frank, "but I don't know what it is."

As he spoke, he tore open one of the envelopes, and hastily running his eye over the letter it contained, found, to his astonishment, that he was an acting master. The next one he opened was an order for him to report "to the commanding officer of the U. S. S. Boxer for duty and command of that vessel." The other contained instructions for him to "proceed to Cairo without delay, and place his vessel under repairs, and as soon as she was put in condition for service, to return and report to the admiral."

"Just as I expected," said the captain, who seemed to be as highly elated as Frank himself. "Just as I expected, sir. You deserve it, and I congratulate you."

Frank made some reply, in his excitement he hardly knew what, and hurried off to pack his trunk and bed-clothes. This being accomplished, his baggage was carried to the cutter, which lay alongside, and after taking leave of the captain and his messmates, he stepped into the boat and started for his vessel, which still lay at the bank, below the flagship, with the transport which was to tow her to Cairo. As he stepped on board the Boxer, he was met by Archie, and several of his old messmates, who greeted him cordially. The executive officer was in command, and to him Frank showed his orders, and requested that his baggage might be conveyed into the cabin. He then went on deck, and after ascertaining that the transport was ready to start, ordered the line cast off, and both vessels were soon on their course down the river.

After finding they were fairly under way, Frank, accompanied by Archie, went into the cabin, and sat down to collect his thoughts, for, in the excitement of his unexpected promotion, he moved like one in a dream. The cabin steward had already taken his trunk into his state-room, and was engaged in making his bed. Captain Nelson! How strangely it sounded; and Frank repeated it several times, and gazed about the cabin as if he could scarcely believe that he was awake. He read his appointment and orders over and over again, both to fully understand what was required of him, and to convince himself that he was in reality the commander of a vessel. When he was made the executive officer of the very boat he now commanded, he had reached the height of his ambition, and his present position was a step higher than he had dared to look.

The captain of a gun-boat generally lives in a little world of his own. He has a cabin all to himself, messes alone, and rarely has intercourse with his officers, except upon business. If he has a messmate, it is either a clerk, or the paymaster or doctor of the vessel. Frank was not entitled to a clerk, but he had a paymaster, and, at his request, Archie at once commenced the removal of his baggage into one of the vacant state-rooms in the cabin. While thus engaged, the orderly announced the executive officer, who entered to inquire if Frank had any orders to give. The latter replied that he had not, and for nearly an hour he remained in conversation with the executive, during which he learned the exact state of affairs about decks. Every thing appeared to be going on smoothly, and Frank had no desire to show his authority by issuing unnecessary orders. One by one the wardroom and steerage officers came in to congratulate the young commander, and when bed-time came they returned to their quarters, saying among themselves that "Captain Nelson didn't feel any bigger in his new position than he would if he were nothing but a Johnny master's mate."

One afternoon, after they had reached the Mississippi River, as Frank sat at his desk, writing a letter to his mother, and Archie lay on the sofa close by, engaged in reading, there was a commotion on deck, and the orderly burst into the cabin, exclaiming—

"Rebels, cap'n! A battery just ahead, sir!" And he had scarcely spoken, when there was a roar of cannon, and the shells burst over and about the vessels.

"Call to quarters," said Frank, as he sprang to his feet and ran into his room after his side-arms and the keys to the magazine.

The orderly disappeared, followed by Archie, who, throwing his book into the furthest corner of the cabin, ran on deck, without even waiting to get his hat.

After ordering the executive, who met him at the door, to have the lamps in the magazine lighted, and to prepare for action, Frank ran into the pilothouse, and looking up the river, discovered a smoke arising from a point half a mile in advance of them.

"Captain," shouted the commander of the transport, who stood in his pilot-house, "what do you want me to do?"

"Take us up the river as fast as you can," shouted Frank, in reply.

The captain had evidently seen some stirring times while up Red River. He was not accustomed to the noise and confusion of battle, and his actions indicated that he did not like the idea of attempting to run by the battery. But his orders from the admiral were to take the Boxer to Cairo as soon as possible, and he dared not disobey them.

"All ready below, sir," was the word at this moment passed up through the trumpet.

All the guns on board the Boxer were pointed at the battery, and the crew impatiently waited for the order to fire. Frank stood at his post, watching the battery through a spy-glass, and waiting until they should come to close quarters, so that he could make every shot count. All this while the shells had been dropping into the water, and shrieking through the air about the vessels, and one or two had found a lodgement in the wheel-house of the transport. They kept on in silence until they arrived almost opposite the battery, which stood out in plain view, unprotected by levee or other breastwork, and Frank then gave the order to open upon them. The crash that followed the order, as every gun that could be brought to bear upon the battery belched forth its contents, was terrific. Shells and canister rattled over the bank, cutting down the rebel gunners, and disabling one of their cannon. As quickly as possible, the guns were reloaded, and almost before the rebels had recovered from their panic, another broadside was poured into them, and when the smoke cleared away, the battery was standing deserted. Here was an opportunity that, to Frank, had he possessed men enough to back him up, would not have been lost; he would have landed, and captured the battery. But he was ignorant of the force of the rebels. There might be a regiment of them hidden away in the woods—enough to have captured the vessels the moment they touched the bank—and to have lost the Boxer scarcely a week after he had been placed in command of her would have been a misfortune indeed. He kept on up the river, shelling the woods as long as he could bring a gun to bear upon them.

In a few days they arrived at Cairo, where Frank reported to the commandant of the station, and his vessel was at once placed in the hands of the workmen at the navy-yard. The work was rapidly pushed forward, and at the end of a month she was declared ready for service, and after she had been furnished with a full crew from the receiving ship, and Archie had laid in a stock of paymaster's stores, the Boxer, in obedience to orders, started down the river to report to the admiral.



CHAPTER XI.

The Rival Spies.

They found the admiral at Natchez, and when Frank had reported his arrival, he was ordered to take his station at Gaines' Landing—a place noted for guerrillas—which they reached in safety. For two or three days, nothing worthy of note transpired, the rebels, if there were any about, being careful not to show themselves.

One night, while Frank was walking the deck, arm-in-arm with his cousin, the officer on watch approached, and said, in a low voice:

"Look there, sir! What kind of a craft is that?"

Frank looked in the direction indicated, and an object about the size of a man's head could be dimly seen in the water, silently but rapidly approaching the vessel. It came from toward the nearest shore, and the thought that it was a torpedo instantly flushed through his mind. Taking the spy-glass from the quarter-master, he leveled it at the object, and could distinctly see that it was a human head, and that it belonged to some one who was an excellent swimmer, for he was making rapid progress through the water.

"I don't see any torpedo there," said he, at length, handing the glass to his cousin, "for the fellow, whoever he is, is using both hands." Then raising his it voice, he called out, "Who comes there?"

"A friend," was the scarcely audible reply.

"Come on board here."

"That's just what I want to do," answered the man, who, with a few more strokes, was near enough to be seized by the quarter-master—who had ran below with a lantern—and lifted upon the guards.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here at this time of night?" asked Frank, as soon as the man had come on deck.

"My name is William Striker," was the answer, "and I am an escaped Union scout."

Frank took the lantern from the quarter-master's hand and held it up, so that he could obtain a good view of the man's face. He was certain he had seen it before, but could not remember where.

"I have a better memory than you, sir," said the man at length. "I have seen you before. I met you in the trenches at Vicksburg."

As the man spoke, he produced a bundle of wet papers, from which he selected one that he handed to Frank. It was the appointment of major, and addressed to William Striker, United States Scout. But this was no proof that the man was in reality what he professed to be, for Frank remembered that he had once passed himself off as Lieutenant Somers, of the rebel army, and had shown his appointment and orders to prove it. It was true that he wore the dress of a Union major, but that might have been obtained in the same manner that Frank once got his rebel uniform. There was something suspicious in a man's presenting himself on board the vessel at that time of night, and in so uncommon a manner.

"Well," said Frank, "if you were in the trenches at Vicksburg, tell me something that happened there."

The soldier then told Frank of the experiment of which the latter had made use to see "how far off the rebels were," during which he lost his cap, the rebel who captured it offering to "trade" for it a tattered slouch-hat with a bullet-hole in it, and informed him that he was the scout who had told him the story of his "partner" Sam, and their raid into the rebel camp, which resulted in the capture of Colonel Peckham. He also related other little incidents which Frank had not forgotten, and which proved that he was in reality the scout whom he had met in the trenches, and not a rebel spy, as he had at first feared. Being fully satisfied on this point, the major was conducted into the cabin, and while he was exchanging his wet clothes for some that Frank and Archie had provided for him, the former ordered his steward to prepare supper for their guest, for he knew, by experience, that a man who had been a prisoner among the rebels was hungry. The major sat down to the table with a most ravenous appetite, and the good things the steward had prepared rapidly disappeared. When he had finished his meal, in answer to Frank's inquiry how he came to be a prisoner, he gave the following account of his adventures, which he remarked were a "little ahead of any thing he had ever gone through."

"In the first place," said he, "I must tell you what became of my comrade, Sam, as it was in endeavoring to assist him that I was captured. His career as a scout, although an exciting one, full of stirring adventures and hair-breadth escapes, was brought to a close soon after the capture of Vicksburg.

"When the army again took up its line of march, we made several excursions into the rebel lines, and one night we stopped at a plantation-house to shelter ourselves from the rain, for it was storming violently, and also to see if we could not pick up some information that might be of use to us. The only inmate of the house was an old woman, who, believing us to be rebels, talked freely with us on all subjects; and during the conversation, which finally turned upon scouting, informed us that there was a scout in the rebel army who was far ahead of any "Yank" that ever lived. He was described as a daring, quick-witted fellow, and many a disaster that had befallen us was owing to him. As I listened to the stories told of him, I came to the conclusion that there was a good deal of truth in them, and that some spy must indeed have been in our camp, for the woman was acquainted with several moves we had made, and which had been defeated, the particulars of which, I thought, were known only to the general and his staff. This led me to believe that the scout, whoever he was, staid about head-quarters, else how could he obtain so much information.

"The woman seemed to be well acquainted with him and his movements, and told us of several of his exploits, which, if true, showed the spy to be a man admirably fitted for his position. I listened attentively to all she said, in hopes I should learn something of his personal appearance, for I had made up my mind that as soon as I could find out his movements, he and I would have a meeting, But all I could learn was that his name was Bob Cole.

"'Well,' said I,'do you know that as long as I have been in the army, I have never seen this man?'"

"'Haven't yer!' exclaimed the woman, in surprise. 'Wal, come to think, I don't know as that is so funny, arter all, 'cause he's in the Yankee camp most of the time, an', as they think he is one of them, he goes an' comes when he pleases, He's a smart one, I tell yer. Some of the boys told me that he is a goin' to bring in a prisoner this week, in the shape of a Yankee scout an' spy. Bill Striker is his name, I believe. Do yer know him?'

"I couldn't help starting when I found that I was known to this noted rebel; but the woman didn't notice it, and I replied:

"Oh, yes! I've heard of him.'

"'Cordin' to all accounts,' continued the woman, 'this Yankee an't much behind Bob, for he has often been in our camp, an' he don't allers go back empty-handed. If he ketches a feller in an out-of-the-way place, he is sartin to gobble him up. But his time is most up now, 'kase Bob never fails in any thing when he onct gets his mind sot on it, an' when I heerd that he was a goin' to ketch this Yank, I believed he would do it.

"It was very encouraging to sit there and listen to a person talk so confidently of my speedy capture; but, as it happened, I had been put on my guard, and another thing, I didn't have quite as much faith in Bob Cole as his rebel friends had, and was in no way concerned about his being able to fulfill his promise. It set me to thinking, however, and I determined I would not sleep sound until I had found him, and then there would be a prisoner taken, sure; but it wouldn't be Bill Striker.

"'What kind of a looking man is he?' I asked, at length.

"'Oh, he's a'—

"Just at this moment we heard several horsemen going by the house, and Sam exclaimed:

"'There are some of our boys now. Perhaps we are wanted.'

"I knew well enough what he meant. Although we had frequently met rebels while scouting about through their lines, we were not at all fond of them, and did not want to be in their company if we could help it.

"Those who had just gone by might at any moment return and enter the house; and besides, it occurred to me that if I was so well known to the rebel spy, I was not safe except in our own camp. I might, at any time, run into a trap he had laid for me. At any rate, we thought it best to get within our lines as soon as possible; so, without waiting to hear the woman's description of Bob Cole, we bid her good night.

"We reached our camp in safety, reported our return, and the next morning I walked up to headquarters, where I remained until dark, talking with the general's hostler, and keeping an ear open for news, but was obliged to go away without hearing any. The next day I was kept busy carrying dispatches, and when I returned at night, I learned that Sam had gone into the rebel camp, as they were making some movement, the particulars of which the general was anxious to learn. I thought nothing of it at the time, but when night came and he did not return, I began to fear that he had been captured or killed. It then occurred to me that if I could get back to the house where lived the woman who had told us of Bob Cole, I might learn something that would be to my advantage; so I put on my rebel uniform, and in a few moments was out of the lines. I reached the house in safety, and was delighted to find there were no rebels about. The woman seemed glad to see me, brought me a cup of water to drink, and after a few minutes' conversation exclaimed:

"'Wal, they've gobbled up one of them fellers!'

"'Which one?' I asked.

"'I don't know his name. Bob done it. He seed him leave the Yankee camp, an' follered him, an' while they were ridin' along together, he tuk out his pistol an' told the Yank to give up his we'pons; but the feller wouldn't do it, an' Bob had to shoot him. But he didn't kill him; he only shot him through the shoulder. He's sartin to be hung.'

"You can easily imagine my feelings as I sat there and listened to this. It required a strong effort to subdue my feelings.

"'How does Bob Cole disguise himself?' I asked, in as firm a voice as I could command. 'What does he do in the Yankee camp?'

"'That's what nobody, 'sides Bob an' the general, knows,' answered the woman. 'Didn't you never see him? He's a little man, has black hair and eyes, wears no whiskers, and allers rides a little gray horse. He's smart, I tell yer.'

"After talking awhile longer with the woman without learning any thing further, I mounted my horse and returned to camp. While I was eating my supper, I called to mind all the scouts with whom I was acquainted, but not one of them answered to the description of Bob Cole. There was one man in camp, however, who did answer the description, and that was the general's hostler. Could it he possible that he was the spy?

"At this moment an orderly entered to tell me that I was wanted at head-quarters. I followed him to the general's tent, received my orders, and began to get ready for the journey. As I came out of the tent I met the hostler, who inquired: