TEA 
 
 LOYA 
 
 HENRT-KITCnELLV. 
 
THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 THE COLLECTION OF 
 NORTH CAROLINIANA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Richard G. Walser 
 
 0B13 
 W379t 
 
K ^ 
 
 orn /3//J 
 
 \,KJl.Xj 1^ • ^ ■ 
 
 WEBSTER, Henry Kitciiell, author; b. at 
 
 Evanston, 111., Sept. 7. 1S75; s. Towner Keeney 
 ., and Emma J. (Kitchell) W.; ^rad. Hamilton 
 ; Coll., 1897, Ph.M.; instr. rhetoric, Union Col ., 
 Schenectady. N.Y., 1897-8; m. Mary Ward Orth. 
 of Evanston, 111., Sept. 7, 1901. Au^/jor; The 
 Short Line War (with Samuel Merwin), 1S99; 
 The Banker and the Bear; The Story of a 
 Corner in Land. 1900; Calmmet '"K" (with Sam- 
 uel Alerwin), 1901; Roser Drake, Captain of 
 Industry. 1903; The Duke of Cameron Ayenue, 
 1901- Traitor and Loyalist, 1904: Comrade John 
 (with Samuel :\Ierwin), 1907; The WMspering 
 Man. 1908; A King in Khaki, 1909; The Sky 
 Man, 1910: The Girl in the Other Seat. 1911; 
 June Madness (play), prod.. New York, Sept., 
 1912; The Ghost Girl. 1913: The Butterfly,^ 1914. 
 'Cluljs: LTniyersitv (Evanston, 111.). Cliff Dwell- 
 ers (Chicago), Players (New York). Address: 
 1411 Maple Av., Evanston. 111. 
 
 n 
 
MACMILLAN'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 TEAITOE AND LOYALIST 
 
1 i/ttaB 3 
 
 " ' I'm a traitor,' he said." 
 
 {See p. 3lk.) 
 
TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 OR 
 
 THE MAN WHO FOUND HIS COUNTET 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER 
 
 ▲UTHOS OF " THE BANKER AND THE BEAB," 
 " ROGER DRAKE," ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPTBISHT, 1904, 
 
 Bt the macmillan company. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1904. Reprinted 
 October, November, 1904 ; September, 1912. 
 
 Norfajool) ilress 
 
 J. S. Cashing & Co. — Berwick & Smith Co, 
 
 Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
PART I 
 
 THE SOUTHERN CROSS 
 
TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 On one of the early days of March in the year 
 1861, the honest Dutch ship Vredey a big-nosed, 
 wide-bottomed, stump-masted craft, was pound- 
 ing along in a southwesterly direction off Hat- 
 teras. In the judgment of her master the 
 northeaster which came roaring over the taffrail 
 was entitled to be called a gale, so the Vrede 
 was doing the best she could with double reefs 
 in her topsails. She was right in the Gulf 
 Stream, and the northeast wind, squarely against 
 the set of that mighty current, piled up an ir- 
 regular and curiously uncomfortable sea, so that 
 the Vrede, high and dry and steady as she was 
 in most winds and weathers, fairly wallowed in 
 it. Her master, much too big a man to preserve 
 even the appearance of dignity on deck w^hile 
 his ship indulged in such unwonted antics, was 
 about to retire to his cabin and console himself 
 with a finger or two of raw gin, when the look- 
 ^ out sighted a sail off the port quarter ; so he 
 fv paused to take a good look at her. 
 
 *9 
 
4 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 It was not a stare of incredulity or amaze- 
 ment, for the sight he saw liad been familiar 
 on all the seas of the world since he had fol- 
 lowed the sea, but no familiarity could lessen 
 the wonder. The great ship was bearing as the 
 Yrede bore, but w^as overhauling her as though 
 the honest Dutch craft had been riding at an- 
 chor ; in less than an hour she would be right 
 abeam, and the master clung to the rail and 
 gazed at her, nodding his head in grave 
 recognition while she came foaming along. 
 
 In the opinion of her master the northeaster 
 was but a breeze, and so above the topsails her 
 topgallant sails were spread in sturdy defiance. 
 Under this huge press of canvas she fled before 
 the wind, but mocked its power as she fled, 
 her long fine bows slicing, driving through the 
 seas which came thundering over her forecastle 
 as if their deadly earnest had been but child's 
 play. 
 
 The master of the Yrede watched her as she 
 came abreast of him and as she went tearing by, 
 leaving a good twelve knots an hour behind her, 
 and until she was hull down ahead his gaze did 
 not cease to follow her, nor his head to nod 
 from time to time, half disapproving, but half 
 in admiration. When he went down to his 
 cabin, he drank his gin to the Yankee skipper 
 who walked her quarter-deck. He knew her 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 5 
 
 house-flag, a big white C on a red field, but it 
 had not needed that, nor the Stars and Stripes 
 broken out from her monkeygaff and dipped in 
 gracious answer to the Vrede's salute, to tell him 
 what land she called Home. 
 
 Indeed, during the twoscore years preceding 
 the Civil War, no hail, nor signal, nor even a 
 seaman's eye, was needed to recognize a Yankee 
 clipper. Wherever you met one of them, home- 
 ward bound from the Indies loaded with silks 
 and spices, racing against time along the fifteen 
 thousand miles' course from New York to San 
 Francisco around the Horn, or fighting her way 
 to windward in the teeth of a North Atlantic 
 gale, fair weather or foul, you might always 
 know the Yankee clipper. The perfection of 
 her model, daringly fine but stanch against all 
 but the utmost that the fury of wind and wave 
 can do, the great clouds of canvas she carried, the 
 matchless seamanship of her officers, — all helped 
 tell the story of her nativity. 
 
 Captain Martin Carver was taking his ship, 
 the Southern Cross, — she was the oldest ship of 
 the famous White C Line, and still the best, 
 according to her crew, — in ballast, to Wilming- 
 ton, North Carolina, there to ship a cargo of 
 cotton, and thence to sail with it to Liverpool. 
 Ordinarily, he would have been sent to Charles- 
 ton to get his cotton, but there was a little tern- 
 
6 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 porary disturbance in the natural course of things 
 at Charleston ; that, at least, was the view the 
 owner of the White C Line took of it. South 
 Carolina had seceded from the Union ; a Major 
 Anderson, with a handful of soldiers, was shut 
 up in Fort Sumter, out in the middle of the 
 harbor, and it was possible that they might 
 make trouble before they turned it over to the 
 state authorities who demanded possession. At 
 Wilmington, where one could get a cargo of 
 cotton about as easily, there was no such doubt 
 or irregularity. It was true that a month before, 
 in a moment of excitement, the citizens had 
 gone down the river and seized Fort Caswell, 
 but at a polite request from the Secretary of 
 War in Washington they had given it back 
 again, and now all was peace. So the Southern 
 Cross had cleared from New York for the mouth 
 of the Cape Fear River. 
 
 It was Martin Carver's first voyage in com- 
 mand. He was only twenty-four years old, and 
 he was the son of old John Milton Carver, who 
 owned the Southern Cross and all her sisters, and 
 yet no one on board, before the mast or berthed in 
 the steerage, ever called him an " owner's man." 
 For, as his two elder brothers had done, Martin 
 had come " over the bows." He had bunked 
 in the reeking forecastle ; he had undergone all 
 the common sailor's routine with tar bucket and 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 7 
 
 holy stone, all his peril aloft in the gale ; he had 
 known cold and exhaustion ; he had been hazed by 
 angry officers, who had vowed to " work him up" ; 
 he had rotted with scurvy. The product of all this 
 experience was the knowledge of many things, — 
 things his father and his grandfather had known, 
 things that can be learned in only one way. 
 The greatest of them, perhaps, was obedience, 
 unquestioning, instant, an obedience in those days 
 nowhere else so thoroughly taught or so fiercely 
 insisted upon as in the American merchant 
 marine. He learned to do what was unnecessary, 
 what was foolish, what was impossible, because 
 it was ordered. 
 
 So for a few years, and then he was promoted 
 to be second mate, a dog's berth even in the best- 
 ordered ships, for one is neither officer nor of 
 the crew and is treated with suspicion by both. 
 One has responsibility but no privileges, authority 
 but none of the sanctions of authority save what 
 may reside in a steady eye and a hard hand. 
 Then he sailed on a two years' cruise around the 
 world as first mate — the mate — of the Centaur, 
 under old Captain Dearborn. When he came 
 back the Southern Cross was waiting for a com- 
 mander, and, after a scanty week of shore leave, 
 he was given his ship and his sailing orders and 
 was off again on what was to be a rather event- 
 ful voyage. 
 
8 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 His cargo of cotton was waiting for him when 
 he readied Wilmington. He got it on board 
 with as little delay as possible, and soon they 
 were sailing out of New Inlet again, bound this 
 time for Liverpool. He had plenty of wind all 
 the way and a good proportion of it fair, and 
 after an unusually quick passage, ev^en for the 
 Southern Cross, he anchored in the Mersey on the 
 tenth of April. 
 
 A small gig was alongside before the ship was 
 fairly at her moorings, and Martin, glancing 
 down into it, gave an exclamation of surprise 
 on seeing a well-known figure catch at the ladder 
 and come scrambling nimbly over the side. He 
 was a little man with a red face and grayish, 
 sandy, mutton-chop w^hiskers. It w^as four years 
 since Martin had seen him, but he had not 
 changed a hair in the interval. 
 
 Between Martin's father, John Carver, and Mr. 
 Patrick Odell there had existed a warm personal 
 regard and a still closer business connection for 
 nearly twenty years. They were not formally 
 partners, of course, but in a good many enter- 
 prises they pooled the risks and shared the 
 profits. In England Mr. Odell acted as Mr. 
 Carver's agent, just as in New York Mr. Carver 
 acted for him. Both had profited largely by the 
 arrangement. London was still two weeks away 
 from New York, and one could not be in both 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 9 
 
 places at the same time, as he can now. Mr. 
 Carver and Mr. Odell were like enough to get on 
 well together. Both were conservative, but 
 neither was afraid to take a chance ; both w^ere 
 matter-of-fact, but with a touch of the speculator's 
 imagination added. 
 
 Odell shook hands with him, and then, step- 
 ping back and using an old friend's privilege, 
 he looked him over, thoughtfully and at first 
 silently. " When I heard of your promotion. 
 Captain, I was inclined to think your father had 
 put you on the quarter-deck a bit too young, 
 but I'm thinking now he was right about it." 
 
 Martin had grown even beyond the great 
 height which was to be expected of his father's 
 son. He was nearly four inches more than six 
 feet tall, and his leanness and his pronounced 
 stoop made him look even taller. His hair, 
 which had once been blue-black, had already 
 a sprinkling of gray in it, and he wore a close- 
 cropped beard. A thousand fogs and tempests 
 had engraved a network of little wrinkles all 
 about his eyes. No, he did not look too young 
 to be captain of the Southern Cross. 
 
 " I thought we should get in before you were 
 looking for us," said Martin. " We've made a 
 very good run of it, even for the old Cross.^^ 
 
 " I know the old ship," Odell answered. " I 
 congratulate you, my boy, on commanding her. 
 
10 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 And, by George, I congratulate her, too. It 
 must be a good many years since she's carried 
 a Carver on her quarter-deck." 
 
 " She's a member of the family," said Martin. 
 " Father has taken her round the Horn five times 
 himself." 
 
 " I've a letter here from your father," said 
 Odell. " I think it wants a little talking over 
 between us. I was anxious that you should 
 make a quick run. I suppose that's why I was 
 expecting you so soon." 
 
 Martin glanced at him, with a little apprehen- 
 sion. " Oh, I've no bad news for you," he 
 went on reassuringly. " It's just a question of 
 expediency. May I go down to your cabin ? " 
 
 " I'll follow you in a moment," said the cap- 
 tain. " You know the way, don't you ? " 
 
 John Carver's letter raised a really important 
 question, and Mr. Odell might have used this 
 moment of solitude to readjust what he had to 
 say. He had expected to find the lad of four years 
 back ; to the bearded, grizzled man he had found 
 instead the errand must be presented somewhat 
 differently. But he forgot his errand in thinking 
 of the man himself. 
 
 He found himself in some perplexity over 
 Martin Carver. But Martin had puzzled his 
 friends before, and he nearly always aroused the 
 curiosity of strangers. His extraordinary height 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 11 
 
 and a certain ungainly grace about his motions 
 had something to do with this, and the color of 
 his eyes still more, for they were a light, cool 
 gray, and with his sunburned skin and his black 
 brows they contrasted oddly. 
 
 " His father is all there," mused Mr. Odell, 
 "but there's something else. And I can't be 
 perfectly sure whether it will help or hinder." 
 He could not even guess, of course, how close 
 home that question was to come to him in the 
 next year, how much it was to affect his for- 
 tunes, but it was sufficiently absorbing without 
 such prevision. 
 
 When Martin came down into the cabin, his 
 father's letter was lying on the table. " If you'll 
 read it first," said Mr. Odell, indicating it, " we 
 can discuss the question to better advantage." 
 
 Martin read it rapidly through, then turned 
 back to discover if he had missed anything. " I 
 don't see what there is to discuss," he said. 
 "Isn't it just like all his letters of this 
 sort ? " 
 
 Odell nodded. 
 
 " It just says that I'm to take on a cargo and 
 go back to Wilmington." 
 
 " To Wilmington," said Odell, with emphasis, 
 " unless we have some strong reason for acting 
 differently." ^"\ 
 
 " Well, why not to Wilmington ? " 
 
12 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " That's a question, Captain, that you should 
 be able to answer better than I." 
 
 " I haven't the bearings of this business," said 
 Martin. " You'll have to explain, I guess." 
 
 " This is the way it lies. It will take you 
 three weeks at least to sail from here to Wil- 
 mington. The latest news you can have from 
 there when you start w^ill be two weeks old. 
 And five weeks, Captain Carver, is a long time, 
 time enough for a great deal to happen. I am 
 afraid that with the flag you fly at the peak you 
 will have short shrift in the Cape Fear River. 
 The Southern Cross would be warmly welcome, 
 but she would never come out under the Stars 
 and Stripes. There is going to be a war there, 
 my boy. Y'our father doesn't think so — many 
 of your people don't think so. But in your south- 
 ern states they know it is coming. That is not 
 the question as I see it. The question is, When 
 will the war begin ? It may have begun ten 
 days ago. It will have begun, I'm afraid, be- 
 fore you can get into Wilmington — and out 
 again." 
 
 " But Wilmington is in North Carolina. You 
 don't expect North Carolina to secede, do you ? 
 They've voted against it already. The worst 
 they'd do if it came to a fight would be to 
 remain neutral." 
 
 Patrick Odell sat awhile in thoughtful silence. 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 13 
 
 He had his hobbies, his foibles, but he was a 
 man of exceptionally shrewd judgment, never- 
 theless. For a man of clear vision London was 
 a better viewpoint than either New York or 
 Charleston. 
 
 " I don't think neutrality will be possible, — for 
 very long, anyway, — and I doubt if state bounda- 
 ries prove important. The quarrel cuts deeper 
 than that. Do you know Wilmington very well?" 
 
 " No, I've called there several times, but I 
 haven't any acquaintance there that amounts to 
 anything. I suppose there is a great deal of 
 sympathy with the Confederacy. But the state 
 won't go out of the Union. They've even voted 
 against a convention to consider it." 
 
 " They passed a military bill, though, six 
 weeks ago, arming an increased militia. And 
 there's something else. Do you know what will 
 make a large part of your cargo if you sail for 
 Wilmington ? Muskets, Captain Carver, and 
 shoes and blankets. A Wilmington gentleman, 
 a Mr. Harper Townley, has been over here buying 
 them. I don't know what else he's been doing, 
 but that doesn't look as though he expected un- 
 broken peace. That is only one of the straws. 
 They all point to war, a great war, unless I've 
 read the signs all wrong. Your present foreign 
 secretary has spoken of the ' irrepressible con- 
 flict.' I believe it has begun." 
 
U TKAITUK AND LOYALIST 
 
 Mart in leaned forward, liis elbows on the table, 
 and ran his big hands through his hair. He was 
 silent for a while. " You have taken me by sur- 
 prise, Mr. Odell," he said, and then fell silent 
 again. But at last he let his clasped hands fall 
 forward on the table, shook his head impatiently, 
 and looked across at the thin little man. 
 
 " I've spent my life at sea," he said. " I'm no 
 politician. I've left state's rights and squatter 
 sovereignty to those who understand them. 
 There's all I can ever know, and a good deal 
 more, to be learned out of sight of land. But 
 still I think you're mistaken, Mr. Odell. There 
 are always a good many men in a ship's com- 
 pany w^ho say a great deal more than they mean 
 to do, and I guess it's much the same ashore ; 
 there's plenty of big talk and small actions. I 
 should act on your judgment rather than my 
 own, though, if it weren't for my father's letter. 
 He had as late information when he wrote that, 
 I suppose, as we have now." 
 
 He made rather a long pause there, and his 
 eyes which had held Odell's while he spoke were 
 gazing absently through the port-hole. It was 
 clear that he had something more to say, and 
 Odell waited for it. 
 
 " It's easy for a man to puzzle himself over 
 large questions," he w^ent on at last. He was 
 speaking very slowly, and there was an odd 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 15 
 
 change in his voice and his inflection which. 
 caught Odell's attention. " I have sometimes 
 done it. I have asked myself more questions 
 during a night-watch than I could find answers 
 for in all my life. There are men who can do 
 some good that way, with the large questions, I 
 mean, but not many, I think, and I know I'm 
 not one. There's a great question now between 
 the North and the South. There are plenty of 
 people trying to find the answer, but I have no 
 answer." 
 
 Then he roused himself, and in his old man- 
 ner he said, " I have problems enough in sailing 
 my ship and obeying orders from home, and I 
 guess it's pretty clear that my duty now is to 
 carry out instructions and take my ship back to 
 Wilmington." His smile as he finished was not 
 apologetic, but it took off the edge, somewhat, 
 of his flat rejection of the older man's advice. 
 
 Nevertheless, Odell rose a little stiffly. " Very 
 good," he said. " It's your responsibility, of 
 course." In a moment, however, he changed his 
 mind and held out his hand. " I'm very sorry 
 that I couldn't convince you, but you're right 
 to do what seems best to you." 
 
 They talked a little longer, and as he was 
 about to go, Odell said, " I shall have some pas- 
 sengers for you for Wilmington, — Mr. Townley, 
 of whom I spoke to you, and his wife and 
 
16 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 daugliter. Tlicy're waiting to lioar whether 
 you're going to sail for there or not. I must 
 write them to-day." 
 
 *' We aren't really very well equipped to carry 
 passengers," Martin protested ; " and they'll 
 reach home much sooner if they go l)y New 
 York. We'll l)e several days getting off and 
 there's no telling what wind and weather we 
 may fall in with." 
 
 Mr. Odell laughed. " They're determined to 
 go direct to Wilmington, and are only waiting 
 to hear what you mean to do. Mrs. Townley 
 and her daughter will surely go. Townley him- 
 self has meant all along to go with them, but 
 he thinks now that he mav be detained." 
 
 " What ? " cried Martin. " Am I to have 
 charge of a woman and child alone ? I can't do 
 it at all. What could I do with them if it began 
 to blow ? " 
 
 "Wait till you see them," said Mr. Odell, "the 
 ' child ' especially. They'll come down here 
 directly they get my letter. I'll have Mrs. Odell 
 come too, and we'll all dine together." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Mr. and Mrs, Harper Townley, of Wilming- 
 ton, North Carolina, lived in only moderately 
 prosperous circumstances, and their decision to 
 send their only daughter, Celia, to England to 
 '' finish " her education caused some comment 
 among their neighbors. It was to be done only 
 at a sacrifice, but as nothing could be too good 
 and but few things good enough for Celia, they 
 made the sacrifice most cheerfully. After she 
 had been gone about a jesiT, the home in Wil- 
 mington was broken up for business reasons 
 which kept both Mr. Townley and his son, 
 Harper Junior, almost constantly away from the 
 city, the house was rented, and Mrs. Townley 
 went to England to spend the second year with 
 her daughter. That was in the fall of 1860. 
 
 The spring of '61 brought them a series of 
 surprises. First, the unlooked-for appearance 
 of Mr. Townley ; then his announcement that 
 they were to go home with him as soon as some 
 business he had at hand could be settled ; last of 
 all his decision that his wife and daughter should 
 go at once, without waiting for him. He would 
 follow as closely as possible. 
 
 c 17 
 
18 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 These rather kaleidoscopic changes wrought 
 in Celia a mixture of sentiments in which she 
 herself could not decide whether sweet or bitter 
 was the predominant flavor. 
 
 All her life she had been given pretty much 
 her own way, had been openly admired by out- 
 siders and none the less openly adored by her 
 family, whom she domineered over and loved 
 devotedly in return. Now all of them at home, 
 including Harper, her older brother and special 
 ally, seemed suddenly to be making plans and 
 doing surprising things without the slightest 
 regard to her, and with never so much as "by 
 your leave." 
 
 She was glad to be going home again on any 
 terms, and the long voyage in a sailing ship was 
 as pleasant a prospect as possible ; but Mr. Odell, 
 with better intentions than results, had talked 
 about the Southern Cross and her boy captain 
 until Oelia was heartily tired of hearing about 
 it. She knew nothing against Martin Carver 
 except that he was a Northerner — a Yankee — 
 so after deciding that he must be rather ridicu- 
 lous, she dismissed him from her mind until the 
 inevitable hour when they should dine together 
 in Liverpool a day or two before sailing. 
 
 When Mr. Odell presented him on the night 
 of the dinner, she got the shock of a violent sur- 
 prise. She hardly more than glanced at him 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 19 
 
 during the moment of the introduction, but in 
 that glance she catalogued the following facts: 
 that he looked fully forty, that his hair was 
 grayish, his beard cut in an outlandish fashion, 
 or rather in no fashion at all (by that you are 
 to understand that he did not wear the long 
 "weepers " assumed by Mr. Sothern's Lord Dun- 
 dreary), that he stooped and stood a little side- 
 ways, and that his clothes — he was in evening 
 dress — didn't fit, or at least were wrinkled, and 
 in a style two years old. 
 
 That was all more or less true. He certainly 
 looked nearer the man of forty than the boy of 
 four years back who had furnished the basis 
 of Mr. Odell's description. He stooped, you 
 may almost say crouched a little, as nearly every 
 man does who has to accommodate himself to 
 people a foot shorter than he, to talk to them, 
 to use their furniture, and go through their 
 doors ; as to his dress, a single voyage, if it be 
 a long one, is enough to put a seaman's shore 
 clothes out of fashion and to leave him a little 
 awkward in them. All of those allowances 
 would have been made at once by a reasonable 
 and friendly critic, but Celia was not friendly, 
 and cheerfully owned to being unreasonable. 
 
 The company after a moment divided, Mrs. 
 Odell, Mr. Townley, and Martin Carver in one 
 group, and Celia, her mother, and Mr. Odell in 
 
20 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 the other. Celia woukl liavc looked again at 
 Martin, but that she felt he was looking at 
 her. She turned quite away from him and 
 addressed Mr. Odell. He had the true Irish 
 love for a pretty face, and they were by this 
 time great friends. 
 
 " I ought to have guessed that you w^ere draw- 
 ing the long bow," she said. " But you ought 
 to be careful liow you tell romantic stories to 
 romantic young girls. What if I had fallen in 
 love with your mythical boy captain — your 
 handsome boy captain, only — how old was it? 
 — twenty-four? I ought to have fainted away 
 when I found how I had been deceived. It would 
 have been no more than 3^ou deserve." 
 
 " Ah, my dear, he does a man's work. It has 
 bent his shoulders and lined his face, but he has 
 a boy's heart still, to m}^ thinking." He smiled 
 tolerantly as he said it, not displeased that she 
 should be impudent with him, but still not caring 
 to join her rather forced banter. That and her 
 mother's plain look of disapproval drove her a 
 step further. " Perhaps " — she lowered her 
 voice — " perhaps the captain w^as too busy to 
 come, and has sent the — what is it they have 
 on ships ? — the boatswain instead." 
 
 " Celia ! " cried her mother. Mr. Odell flushed 
 angrily. Impudence was w^ell enough, but there 
 was something too much of it here. In a mo- 
 
' Perhaps the captain was too busy to come, and has sent the 
 — the boatswain instead.'" 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 21 
 
 ment more, though, he gave a chuckle of real 
 amusement. 
 
 She looked at him interrogatively. " What is 
 it ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, nothing witty, my dear. I was amus- 
 ing myself with thinking of the handsome re- 
 traction you'll be making some day. I shan't 
 be there to see, but I shall enjoy imagining it." 
 
 Celia had turned toward Martin again. Her 
 second glance merely confirmed the first ; at least 
 she was able to make it do so. Then she looked 
 back to Mr. Odell with a not quite imperceptible 
 shrug of her bare shoulders. " Perhaps it's just 
 as well that you're depending on imagination for 
 your enjoyment of it," she said. 
 
 " Did you hear Titiens and Alboni sing 
 ' Semiramide ' the other night, Mr. Odell ? " 
 asked Mrs. Townley, quickly. 
 
 To her relief dinner was announced before he 
 had time to reply. After they were seated he 
 reverted to her question, and for a few minutes 
 the talk was on musical matters, — the new opera, 
 " Martha," which Titiens was bringing into high 
 favor, Mr. Wallace's " Lurline," over which there 
 was some discussion as to whether or not it was 
 better than " Maritana," and somebody spoke of 
 the disastrous failure in Paris, the month before, 
 of Richard Wagner's " Tannhauser." The dis- 
 cussion was limited to the four older people, 
 
22 TllAlTOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 for Martin, of course, could say notliing on the 
 sul)ject and Celia wouldn't. She was, in fact, 
 extremely cross and a little sulky. She had 
 insulted her good friend, Mr. Odell, and had 
 got from him a rebuke which was the sharper 
 for its obliquity ; she had distressed her mother, 
 and, worst of all, her attempt to ridicule Martin 
 Carver had fallen flat. It was not very funny, 
 she must admit. 
 
 " I've often fancied," said Odell, addressing 
 Martin, " from your speaking voice that you 
 ought to sing yourself." 
 
 Celia looked up at him, wickedly hoping he 
 would confess to " Larboard Watch Ahoy " or 
 perhaps even " Gentle Annie." 
 
 " When I was before the mast," he said, " they 
 paid me the compliment of making me chantey 
 man. I'm not sure that you know what that is." 
 
 Those w^ere the first consecutive words she had 
 heard him speak, and her pleasure in the mere 
 sound of his voice obliterated, or delayed for a 
 moment, their meaning. 
 
 " Do you know, Miss Celia ? " asked Odell, 
 innocently. 
 
 She was looking at Martin, but did not at once 
 make any reply, though now he was waiting for 
 it. Then she caught herself and answered coolly 
 that she did not know but would like to very 
 well. Mr. Odell was looking at her, smiling 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 23 
 
 again, and that made her flush, which, in turn, 
 made her cross again, and she missed the greater 
 part of Carver's explanation. 
 
 But the others listened and led him on to talk 
 about the sea, and before long she had forgotten 
 her disgust with herself and her annoyance over 
 what she chose to consider Mr. Odell's offences, 
 and was paying as close attention as any of them. 
 
 And w^hen the party broke up for the evening 
 she braved Mr. Odell's smile, though she flushed 
 consciously under it, and held out her hand to 
 Martin Carver. " We've enjoj^ed the things you 
 told us very much indeed," she said. 
 
 During the drive to their hotel with her father 
 and mother she was silent, but when she had 
 been alone in her room a little while, she was 
 glad to hear her mother's knock, and to observe 
 as she came in that it was to settle down for one 
 of their old-time midnight visits. 
 
 " Your father had some matters to attend to 
 before he could go to bed," said Mrs. Townley, 
 in explanation. 
 
 Celia frowned. " I hate mj^stery," she said ; 
 " at least I hate to be left out of a mystery." 
 She drew an ottoman close to her mother's chair, 
 seated herself on it, and asked, " Don't you think 
 I'm old enough to be trusted with this one, 
 Mummy ? " 
 
 Her mother patted the brown head resting on 
 
24 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 lior knoe. "It's notliing for yon to worry about, 
 claugliter," slie said. 
 
 Celia drew lierself iij) as majestically as the 
 ottoman permitted and made no re]:)ly, but in 
 a moment she nestled back in the old way. 
 " There ! " she said, and then after a little pause, 
 " It was a pleasant evening after all ; even after 
 I had tried as hard as I could to spoil it." 
 
 " Your father is very much pleased with Mr. 
 Carver. He says he is evidently a man of con- 
 siderable ability in his line and not at all reck- 
 less. He will feel a good deal safer about us for 
 having met him." 
 
 " He isn't so uncivilized as I thought at first, 
 ril retract that much for Mr. Odell's satisfac- 
 tion. I'm sure he is not a — a boatswain in dis- 
 guise. He's more like a gentleman than most 
 Yankees." 
 
 " How many Yankees do you know, dear ? " 
 asked her mother, laughing. 
 
 " Well, I know what they're like, and so do 
 3^ou, mother. You remember what Dolly Sher- 
 win said about some of the ones she saw at 
 Washington." 
 
 Her mother nodded. "Just think," she said, 
 " in a month you and Dolly will have forgotten 
 you've ever been apart at all." 
 
 On the next day but one after the dinner, the 
 Southern Cross with her new cargo and her two 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 25 
 
 passengers aboard sailed out of the Mersey. Mr. 
 Townley and Mr. Odell both came aboard to see 
 them off, and did not go over the side till the 
 anchors hung at the cat-heads and the great 
 bird had spread her wings for flight. 
 
 Martin Carver had known nothing, of course, 
 of the various motives which had led to Celia's 
 friendly demonstration at the end of the dinner, — 
 the wish to defy Mr. Odell, to propitiate her 
 mother, and, somewhat more generously, to atone 
 for an injustice to himself of which he could not 
 possibly have been aware. What he knew was 
 that she had come across the room to him, to 
 A^m, and had smiled up at him and given him 
 her hand and said, " We've enjoyed the things 
 you told us very much indeed." 
 
 That was not a great deal for a pretty girl to 
 say or do, but it was enough to bring the blood 
 surging up under his tanned and wrinkled skin 
 and his ill-cut beard. Indeed it was only a boy 
 who lay long awake that night, remembering. 
 Remembering the beruffled pink gown with its 
 low bodice, and the one pink rose she wore, 
 her slender arms, and the two brown curls which 
 framed her neck and lying dark on her white 
 bosom made it the whiter ; remembering how, half 
 disdainfully, she had ignored him at the first, and 
 then, at the last, the one moment w^hen she had 
 given him her hand and smiled at him. 
 
26 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 If Celia had been less preoccupied with what 
 Mr. Odell was thinking and what he might choose 
 to say in triumph afterward, she w^ould have seen 
 something of tlie havoc tliis easily given favor 
 was working, and the stooping shoulders, the tan, 
 and the wrinkles would not have availed to dis- 
 guise the boy who stood before her. She made 
 the discovery soon enough as it was, and it can- 
 not be denied that she enjoyed it. 
 
 At twenty Celia Townley was old in the ex- 
 perience of a certain sort of half-serious love- 
 making, old enough, indeed, to have ceased to 
 care for it. All the boys she had grown up with 
 had, at one time or another, fallen in love with 
 her, and she had discouraged them, sent them 
 away, brought them back — put them through 
 their paces, in short, just as Dolly Sherwin and 
 her other friends did and as their mothers 
 had done before them. It was all a verv inno- 
 cent sort of thing, but she knew it was rather 
 silly and when she was starting away for her 
 two years in England and had made her fare- 
 wells to the disconsolate two or three who 
 happened at the time to be so affected by the 
 event, she resolved that she would never do it 
 any more. 
 
 Certainly nothing was farther from her mind, 
 when she and her mother went aboard the 
 Southern Cross, than a flirtation w^ith the lank 
 
THE SOUTH E MIS' CROSS 27 
 
 Yankee captain. But before the ship was out of 
 the Merse}^, her mind was sufficiently disengaged 
 from the past to take an active interest in the 
 present, and the most interesting circumstance 
 under her observation was the attitude toward 
 herself of Martin Carver. She noticed how he 
 blushed when she spoke to him, how eager were 
 all his little attentions to her mother and herself, 
 how her showing interest in any of his duties 
 pleased him, and how distressed he was when she 
 had betrayed him into saying something which 
 she could torture into dispraise of herself. His 
 devotion was very boyish, very primitive, but 
 with all her experience she liked it, partly be- 
 cause she liked him, partly because he belonged 
 so evidently to another world than hers that he 
 piqued her curiosity. It was delightful to see 
 this bearded giant, to whom the complex enginery 
 of a great ship was so simple, whose lightest 
 command had instant obedience, who carried the 
 lives of all of them in his great hands, — to see him 
 confused and helpless before the simple riddles 
 she offered him. 
 
 For the first few days of the voyage the weather 
 was crystal clear, the sea calm, and the breeze so 
 light as to little more than keep the ship, for all 
 her great spread of canvas, under steerageway. 
 Martin made as much as he could of the leisure 
 this state of things offered, and as for Celia, if 
 
28 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 her conscience was not perfectly easy, she could 
 at least pretend that it was. 
 
 But when her mother came into her cabin one 
 night just after she had got into bed and said 
 she wished to talk with her, she guessed at once 
 what w\as coming. 
 
 Mrs. Townley lighted the lamp. " Can't we 
 talk in the dark just as well. Mummy ? " Celia 
 asked. 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Townley, thoughtfully, " I 
 don't believe we can to-niglit." 
 
 Celia shielded her eyes from the light and 
 smiled, but the look in her mother's face sobered 
 her. She raised herself on her hands and placed 
 the pillow upright behind her, then faced her 
 mother again, sitting quite erect. " What do 
 you want to talk about, mother ? " she asked. 
 
 For a little while Mrs. Townley was silent, and 
 when she did speak it was, at first, only to say, 
 " I don't know that my saying anything can do 
 any good," but presently she continued : — 
 
 " Of course you have known, Celia, that what 
 you have been doing since we sailed has dis- 
 pleased me and hurt me — yes, and made me a 
 little ashamed of you." 
 
 " Mother ! " 
 
 " And I don't know that saying it, when 
 you've known it all along, will make any differ- 
 ence to you." 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 29 
 
 Celia looked at her, wide-eyed. " I don't 
 know what you mean," she said slowly, but her 
 face turned crimson and she buried it in her hands. 
 
 " I mean that you have been trying to lead 
 Captain Carver on into making love to you. I 
 don't understand why. You would hardly want 
 to boast of such a conquest to — " 
 
 Celia looked up quickly. " Why don't you 
 talk to him about it ? " she cried. " If you're 
 ashamed of me, and if you think it no use talk- 
 ing to me, why don't you warn him — if he isn't 
 old enough to guard himself against me ! " 
 
 "He isn't — so far as that goes," said her 
 mother, " and you know it perfectly well. But 
 that has nothing to do with the case. I'm not 
 concerned about Captain Carver or his feelings, 
 but I am concerned when my daughter degrades 
 herself by flirting with a Yankee sea-captain. I 
 had always thought I could trust your sense of 
 the fitness of things to tell you who were our 
 kind of people and who weren't. It seems I 
 was mistaken." 
 
 Celia made no reply. She had turned away 
 from her mother as far as possible, and, with her 
 face buried in the crook of her arm, was strug- 
 gling with her sobs. 
 
 Her mother watched her a moment, and then 
 her own breathing grew tremulous and she held 
 out her hands. " Celia," she said. 
 
30 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 But tlie girl made no more response tlian to 
 huddle a little farther away. " It may be," said 
 Mrs. Townley, in a troubled voice, " that your 
 father and I are a little to blame. Mr. Odell, of 
 course, being a foreigner, could not understand, 
 and your father had reasons of his own for meet- 
 ino; him at the dinner. But vou seemed to 
 understand well enough then. As you said, the 
 captain is more civilized than most of them, 
 but — " 
 
 Celia faced her mother again, defiantly. Her 
 lips trembled so that she could hardly articulate, 
 but by struggling with each word she got it out. 
 "He is as good a gentleman as anybody, and 
 if he should ask me to marry him I believe I 
 would do it. Nobody else cares anything about 
 me. You're ashamed of me, and father has 
 reasons of his own, and — " Her words came 
 quicker toward the last, and ended in a sob as 
 she buried her face in the pillow. 
 
 Her mother for a little while continued where 
 she was, sometimes making a motion as if to tr}^ 
 to comfort the quivering figure in the bed and 
 then drawing back again. At last she stood up 
 and bent over her. " Celia," she said, " I was 
 angry and I'm afraid I've made a mistake. We 
 won't talk about it any more to-night." Then 
 she put out the light and softly closed the door 
 behind her. 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 31 
 
 Any sort of rebuke was rare in Celia's experi- 
 ence, and, from her mother, almost unknown. 
 This one cut deep, and it was a long time before 
 the impetus of her emotion spent itself ; but at 
 last it did and she could lie still again and draw 
 a long breath comparatively steadily. But she 
 was neither awake nor asleep, she could get 
 neither the self-command of the one state nor 
 the self-forgetfulness of the other, and coming 
 finally to the end of her endurance she dressed 
 herself, as best she could in the dark, and went 
 softly up on deck. 
 
 She was still not fully in possession of herself, 
 and when Martin Carver spoke to her from near 
 at hand, she started and almost cried out. Then 
 " I didn't know you were here," she said. 
 
 Except for the seaman who was standing his 
 trick at the wheel, they had the quarter-deck 
 to themselves, for with the captain in charge, 
 the second mate, w^hose watch it was, had gone 
 forward. 
 
 " Are you ill ? " he asked anxiously. " Is any- 
 thing the matter ? " 
 
 She shook her head and instinctively turned a 
 little away, because she had been crying, though 
 what faint light there was on deck would not 
 have betrayed her under any scrutiny. 
 
 " I'm afraid you are still offended with me," 
 said Martin. She had affected to be indignant 
 
32 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 over sometliiui::; ho had done or loft nndono that 
 very evening, ])iit slie looked at him now in genu- 
 ine surprise. Then slowly it came back to her, 
 — it and a dozen other pretences she had imposed 
 upon him, — and her face crimsoned and again 
 she turned away. All that seemed long ago. 
 
 " I wasn't offended w^ith you this evening." 
 She spoke absently, and though she paused he 
 waited for what she had still to say. " Not yes- 
 terday nor any other time since I met you. I 
 was — it was all — " 
 
 She made no attempt to finish, and after a 
 little period of troubled silence he said, " I don't 
 understand — " 
 
 She interrupted him. " No, you don't under- 
 stand." Then she drew herself up and faced 
 him squarely, " Captain Carver, I have treated 
 you abominably." 
 
 '' Only sometimes," he interrupted. 
 
 She laughed shortly. " No. The rest of the 
 time was worse. I am sorry and I beg your 
 pardon." 
 
 He barely heeded the words at all. It was 
 her tone, cold, serious, measured, that carried 
 her meaning, or part of it, to him. He started 
 to speak, but there seemed to be nothing he 
 could say, and dropping his hands on the rail, 
 he stared out over the black water. 
 
 " I don't believe you understand, quite," the 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 33 
 
 girl went on, uncertainly. " I want to start 
 again. I want us to be friends — honestly 
 friends. Don't you think we can be ? " 
 
 He was silent so long that she stirred uneasily, 
 but at last he faced her and answered slowly. 
 
 " I'm not sure. Perhaps we can. We'll try 
 to be ; and — thank you. Miss Celia." 
 
 She was determined against another silence. 
 " It must be very late," she said. 
 
 " Just gone five bells, in the middle watch. 
 Half-past two." 
 
 " Why were you — on deck ? " She thought 
 when too late to check it that the question was 
 indiscreet. 
 
 " There's a storm coming," he answered. 
 " The barometer has been falling since nine 
 o'clock." He looked about the sky and added, 
 " We'll be getting the first of it before very long. 
 You had better get what sleep you can before 
 it comes. You won't have very much after that 
 for a while." He paused an instant, then added, 
 " You'll not be afraid, will you ? " 
 
 He had walked with her to the companion- 
 way. There she turned and held out her hand 
 to him. " No," she said simply, " I shan't be 
 afraid. Good night — and — thank you." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 The storm justified Martin's prediction and 
 rather more. As long as she could carry sail 
 the gallant old ship beat up into the tempest, 
 but at last she had to give it up ; she was hove 
 to, and, her spars quite bare save for one tri- 
 angular rag of canvas to hold her head into the 
 wind, she was blown and buffeted by the tem- 
 pest a hundred miles and more to leeward. Her 
 main topgallant mast had gone over the side, 
 and two of her boats had been reduced to a 
 handful of slats before the blow was over. In- 
 deed, to the unskilled eyes of Mrs. Townley and 
 her daughter, w^hen they first came up on deck 
 after things had quieted down, the Southern Cross 
 looked a complete wreck, and it interested them 
 both as much as they, in their condition, could 
 be interested in anything, to see how quickly 
 and skilfully the mess was cleared away and 
 everything put shipshape again. 
 
 After that there were days when it was flat 
 calm, or when what breeze there was came from 
 dead ahead ; when it seemed as though their 
 voyage had already lasted for years and must 
 last for years to come ; when all the interest 
 
 34 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 3S 
 
 they had had ashore seemed like dreams which 
 they had half forgotten. But at last the wind 
 blew fair, the towering clouds of sail came to 
 life, and like a hawk unhooded, the ship took 
 flight for port. The tedium of the voyage 
 was over for the Townleys. Every day Martin 
 showed them their new position on the chart, 
 and along with their anxiety to reach home again 
 was mingled a genuine regret that the delicious 
 lazy hours of idling on deck in the shadow of a 
 sail, watching the billows as the great ship raced 
 over their backs, or of putting off sleep as long 
 as possible while they listened to the rustle of 
 the water outside their walls of oak, would soon 
 be at an end. 
 
 One evening after supper as they stood on deck 
 together watching the sunset, Martin joined them. 
 " We've made two hundred and seventy miles in 
 this last tw^enty-four hours," he said. " To- 
 morrow morning with luck we ought to pick up 
 Federal Point light." 
 
 " I want to walk," said Celia. " Come, mother, 
 you've taken no exercise for nearly a week." As 
 they moved off she invited Martin, by a nod of 
 her head, to join them ; so the three began pacing 
 abreast up and down the deck. 
 
 " I should be sorry if we weren't so near home, 
 Captain Carver," said Mrs. Townley, " but I'm 
 more than a little sorry that we are. We've 
 
36 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 spent a (It^light fill month on the Southern Cross, 
 and you'll let me say — won't you ? — that it has 
 been largely your doing. You have made it very 
 pleasant, and you've taught us a good deal beside." 
 
 " I haven't succeeded very well as a teacher," 
 said Martin. '' I 've done my best, but I'm afraid 
 I couldn't trust Miss Celia's reading of the sex- 
 tant within five degrees yet. And she won't even 
 try to box the compass." 
 
 " You may have taught us some things without 
 knowing it," her mother said quietly, and Celia 
 hardly believed her ears. Martin made no 
 attempt to discover her meaning, and in a 
 moment Mrs. Townley spoke again. 
 
 " We are going back as strangers to Wilming- 
 ton," she said, " and it will take us some time to 
 settle there again and really feel at home, but the 
 next time you are there you must make us a visit." 
 
 Martin thanked her, but he looked at Celia. 
 " Of course you must," she said. She spoke a 
 little breathlessly, and there was a wave of bright 
 color in her face. 
 
 Neither Celia nor her mother had referred 
 again to what had passed between them the night 
 before the storm. The acknowledged peril they 
 were in during the next days did aw^ay even with 
 the remembrance of it. 
 
 They had seen nothing of him in those days, but 
 the steward was constantly bringing messages, 
 
THE SOUTHERN' CROSS 37 
 
 inquiries, reassurances from him, and also add- 
 ing on his own responsibility some account of 
 the captain's doings ; how during tlie height of 
 the storm he never left the deck ; how, once 
 or twice, he had even gone aloft to help and 
 cheer his exhausted crew. And after the worst 
 was over, and the ship w^as staggering on 
 again under what little sail she could carry, 
 the steward had told Celia another story : that 
 the two men at the w^heel — it needed two men 
 to hold the plunging thing against the sea that 
 was running — had in a mad lurch been hurled 
 across the deck and against the side so hard that 
 both were disabled. Captain Carver had seized 
 the wheel himself, and, instead of calling aft two 
 men to take their places, had steered the vessel 
 alone for the rest of the watch. " They were 
 strong men and able seamen," said the steward, 
 " but they couldn't hold it. And he did it alone." 
 When Celia told the story over again to her 
 mother, she told it proudly, as though he belonged 
 to her. 
 
 She had wondered how he would look after 
 the storm was over, had expected to find him 
 shrunken, grayer, ten years older than on the 
 night when they had agreed to be friends ; and 
 when she saw that he w^as just the same, when 
 he came up to her and simply but almost shyly 
 complimented her for enduring the danger so 
 
38 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 steadil}', the eyes of lior understanding were 
 suddenly opened wide. She could read now the 
 story which was written in his gray hairs and in 
 the fine lines about his eyes, and a lump in her 
 throat kept her from answering him. 
 
 But she had studiously avoided talking about 
 him or giving her mother a chance to do so. And 
 thus it fell out she was quite ignorant, until this 
 last evening as the three paced the deck to- 
 gether, of the great change that had taken place 
 in her mother's opinion of the "Yankee sea- 
 captain." 
 
 " You may have taught us some things with- 
 out knowing it." After the wave of sheer 
 incredulous astonishment subsided, the girl found 
 herself inexplicably happy. She walked on a 
 little way with them and managed to add her 
 word to Mrs. Townley's invitation in a voice 
 that was steady enough not to attract her 
 mother's attention. But the impulse to be 
 alone was too strong to resist, and, without 
 making an excuse, she left them — her mother 
 and her big captain — talking on together, and 
 fled to the solitude of her own cabin. 
 
 Later in the evening she and her mother sat 
 out on deck in the moonlight. The captain had 
 been standing by, talking to them, — he never 
 sat down himself when on deck, — but he had 
 gone away and they heard the rhythm of his 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 39 
 
 footsteps as he tramped back and forth behind 
 them. They were sitting close together, and 
 Celia, finding her mother's hand under the folds 
 of her shawl, held it against her cheek for a 
 moment and then kissed it. 
 
 For hours after they had gone below Martin 
 continued his steady patrol. The port watch 
 turned out at twelve o'clock and the first 
 mate did not go forw^ard as the second mate 
 would have done on finding the captain on deck ; 
 but soon discovering that Martin was not in a 
 talking mood, he withdrew to the lee side and 
 left him to his thoughts and his solitary patrol 
 in peace. 
 
 The voyage was nearl}^ at an end, — the days in 
 which almost every hour brought him a chance 
 to see her were gone. There had been as much 
 pain as pleasure in them. He had been fathoms 
 deep in love with her from the first, but since 
 that night when she made her confession and 
 asked his pardon he had been beyond all sound- 
 ings. He had promised to try to be friends, 
 but even the iron discipline his training had 
 taught him was barely enough to hold him. He 
 saw nothing extraordinary, as Celia did, in 
 Mrs. Townley's invitation, for he had thought of 
 seeing them in their home in Wilmington quite 
 as a matter of course. Mrs. Townley's behavior 
 toward him had never given him a hint of the 
 
40 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 })reju(li('0 wliirli slio liad once entertained and 
 lie had unwittingly o\erconu\ But when his 
 next visit to Wilmington would be was of course 
 ]>rol)leniatical. And what if Odell were right 
 after all and there should be a war ! He had 
 forgotten politics, continents, everything, in those 
 davs. The Southei'n Cross had been a world to him. 
 
 He had vaguely heard the lookout report 
 a ship a while back, but he started w^hen the 
 mate at his elbow spoke to him. 
 
 " She's a steamer, sir, and seems to be headed 
 for us," he said, holding out his glass. " Would 
 you like to look at her ? She's been in sight a 
 good while and coming right along." 
 
 Martin took the glass and looked. " She's 
 heading right athwart our haw^se sure enough," 
 he said. " And by the bone in her teeth she's in 
 a hurry." 
 
 ^' What does it mean. Captain ? " 
 
 "We'll know soon enough, I guess," said Martin, 
 grimly. Then he continued, after a pause : " Set 
 your course a little more off the wind, Mr. Jones. 
 Two points will be enough to find out wdiat she 
 means." 
 
 «' Yes, sir," and the mate repeated the order to 
 the man at the wheel. 
 
 The next few minutes were interesting. Both 
 officers had their glasses now and were watch- 
 ing the on-coming steamer intently. 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 41 
 
 " There she goes," said the mate as the steamer 
 changed her course. " She means us." 
 
 " She'll signal us to heave to in a minute," 
 said the captain. " Ah, there it is. She's a 
 man-of-war ; I can see her guns." He shut his 
 glass with a snap. " Put down your helm, ]\Ir. 
 Jones." 
 
 Then came the hail, " What ship is that ? " 
 
 " The Southern Cross, of New York, for Wil- 
 mington, thirty days out of Liverpool." 
 
 The captain of the man-of-war seemed to 
 think this a little too innocent, for after announc- 
 ing that his ship was the United States steamer 
 Union, he added that he would send a boat along- 
 side ; and a few minutes later an ensign came 
 over the rail. 
 
 " Are you the master ? " he asked Martin. 
 " I'd like to see your papers. Well," he went 
 on after they were seated in the cabin and a 
 glance at the clearance had convinced him that 
 the ship was as represented, '' it's lucky for you, 
 Mr. Carver, that you fell in with us. They'd 
 have made short work of you in the Cape Fear 
 River." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 u We're at war with them. They took Fort 
 Sumter a month ago and more, and w^ithin a 
 week after that we w^ere right at it. The Presi- 
 dent has called out seventy-five thousand troops 
 
42 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 and declared a blockade, and Jefferson Davis is 
 issuing letters of marque to all the privateers he 
 can get. One of them is likely to snap you up 
 any hour — and a good prize you'd make, too." 
 
 " But," said Martin, " North Carolina wasn't in 
 the Confederacy. What has Wilmington to do 
 with it ? " 
 
 " Oh, they're all together," the ensign answered. 
 " The wdiole coast is under blockade from Norfolk 
 down." 
 
 The inspection of the papers was soon over. 
 The boat pulled away, and presently the steamer 
 started on. There was little breeze. What 
 there was, was coming from a point or two south 
 of west. Martin looked thoughtfully at the re- 
 ceding steamer, then turned to the mate. " You 
 may drop off to starboard, Mr. Jones, and steer 
 north." Then he went below and knocked on 
 Mrs. Townley's door. 
 
 " Yes," she answered quickly. " Is anything 
 the matter ? " 
 
 "Nothing to alarm you," said Martin, "but 
 something important. I'd like to speak to you 
 and Miss Celia, if you please." 
 
 " I'll be out directly," announced Celia from 
 her room. 
 
 After the first shock of the ensign's announce- 
 ment, Martin put the large question, the rights 
 and wrongs and possibilities of it all, out of his 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 43 
 
 mind and gave his attention to the immediate 
 problem which faced him. What was he to do 
 with his ship and his passengers ? Before he 
 gave the last order to the mate he had a plan, 
 and while Mrs. Townley and Celia were dressing 
 a little study of his coast chart showed him that 
 it was quite possible. He went on deck for a 
 moment, and taking his glass with him focussed 
 it on the steamer. She was about two miles 
 away. "We'll begin to take soundings, if you 
 please, Mr. Jones ; and as soon as that steamer 
 is hull down let me know." 
 
 He found Celia waiting for him in the cabin. 
 " Mother will be out in a minute," she said ; " is 
 it something very serious ? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered gravely, and in as few 
 words as possible he told her. The cabin lamp 
 burned dimly and the gra}^ dawn without had 
 not penetrated there, but he could see the red 
 spot in each of her cheeks and how bright her 
 eyes were. 
 
 " Oh," she cried, " I'm glad they did it. And 
 I'm proud of the rest of the South for standing 
 by them. It will teach those meddlesome abo- 
 litionists a lesson." 
 
 Mrs. Townley made no comment when they 
 told her the news, but she turned a little pale 
 and pressed her lips tightly together for a moment. 
 Then she asked, " What are you going to do 
 
44 TKAITOK AND LOYALIST 
 
 with us, Captain Car\tM'? You caiTl take us 
 further in tlian Sniithxille, I su|)}~>ose." 
 
 " I can't even take you there," said Martin. 
 <' The moulli of the river is probably under block- 
 ade already, and even if it's not, anything inside 
 could capture this ship — a tug or a launch if it 
 had a gun on board. 
 
 " But I think," he went on before they had 
 time to express their consternation, " that I can 
 probably land you from a boat at Masonboro 
 Inlet. That's only six miles from Wilmington, 
 isn't it ? and j^ou could drive across. I can't 
 promise, of course, but I imagine we'll be able to 
 land you there without being molested." 
 
 " She's hull down now, sir," the mate called 
 down the companion. 
 
 Martin hurried on deck. The soundings en- 
 abled him to determine his position very closely ; 
 the steamer was out of the way and would pay 
 no more attention to him, so under his quick 
 orders the helm went over to starboard, her 
 head swung up nearer the wind, and she began 
 working her way along on a taut bowline 
 toward Masonboro Inlet. 
 
 That was an interminable day. The breeze 
 grew lighter and lighter as the morning advanced, 
 and about noon dropped entirely. The captain 
 and his passengers ate their dinner in gloomy 
 silence. The great fact of the war which had 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 45 
 
 come upon them so suddenly was big with portent. 
 It insistently asked questions and suggested 
 speculations, it wrapped itself around even the 
 most minute and routine matters, and still the 
 stupendous nature of itself forbade the finding of 
 answers to the very questions it asked. As 
 Martin Carver had done, both women made a 
 resolute effort to push it back for a few hours, 
 until the thing which lay just before them could 
 be accomplished. It would have been hard 
 enough to do in any case, but while their ship 
 rocked unprogressive on the glassy ground-swell, 
 it was impossible. They gave up even trying to 
 talk. Martin went on deck, and Celia and her 
 mother affected to busy themselves in their rooms 
 with the last of the packing up, which had really 
 been done hours ago. 
 
 Somehow they wore out the day. The after- 
 noon was waning when Martin, as he searched 
 the southern horizon with his glass, heard a step 
 beside him. Celia had come on deck alone. 
 " Are you looking for the wind ? " she asked. 
 
 " The breeze will be here soon, but it will blow 
 off land. We'll work along as far as we dare, 
 and to-morrow, early, we should be able to send 
 you ashore. We've been nearly in sight of land 
 all day." 
 
 They both tried nervously to keep the talk 
 going, but it would not do. Every subject that 
 
46 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 came up enveloped itself at once in the black 
 cloud which thoy were resolved not to look at 
 yet, and at last Celia admitted that this was so. 
 " Let's not try to talk any longer. There's really 
 nothing to say." 
 
 Martin stood looking at her. She ^vas lean- 
 ing back against the companion, unaware of 
 his gaze, her eyes far out at sea. The long voy- 
 age, the untempered sun, and the breath of the 
 wind had deepened the ivory tint of her skin 
 into something w^armer. Her lips were slightly 
 parted ; her thoughts seemed to have followed her 
 eyes out to the horizon. Martin, having looked, 
 was powerless to look away. 
 
 Slowly she seemed to become conscious of his 
 look. The color came up into her cheeks and 
 her breathing was quicker. She turned farther 
 away from him, and then, involuntarily it 
 seemed, turned back again and their eyes met. 
 The words he tried to say would not come to his 
 lips. So they stood for a moment, and then she 
 found herself. With a little gasp that tried to 
 be a laugh she broke the silence. 
 
 <' Give me the glass," she said. " I'll try to 
 find what you w^ere looking for." 
 
 His hand shook as he gave it to her, and she 
 did not hold it very steadily. After a moment 
 his eyes followed its direction out to the south 
 and then, suddenly, — 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 47 
 
 " Let me take it again, please," he said. The 
 crisp resonance of his voice startled her, and his 
 impatient hurry as he focussed the glass again 
 made her look back to the horizon apprehen- 
 sively. She thought she made out a faint blur, 
 — yes, there was no doubt about it, a tiny 
 smudge of smoke. 
 
 " Bring your glass, Mr. Jones, and tell me 
 what you make of this," called Martin. The 
 two men gazed in silence for a while. Then the 
 mate lowered his glass and looking at the lifeless 
 sails said grimly, " Well, whatever she is I guess 
 we'll have to wait for her." 
 
 At that moment there came a crinkling scurry 
 over the glassy surface of the water from the west, 
 and a puff of air struck their faces. The yards 
 creaked as they swung and the sails stirred idly. 
 
 Martin shot a quick order to the helmsman 
 and then directed the mate to call all hands. 
 Jones hurried forward ; there came a clatter on 
 the scuttle and the cry, " Ahoy the starboard 
 watch ! Tumble up." 
 
 The flaw spent itself quickly, but in a moment 
 came another and heavier one. The sails slatted 
 against the masts and then, as the ship wore 
 slowly around, filled again. The manoeuvre was 
 a familiar one to Celia, but there was something 
 new about the way it was executed ; the old 
 swiftness and precision of perfect discipline were 
 
48 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 just as ahva3^s, but there was also a new note of 
 excitement. It rang in Martin's voice, repressed 
 but vibrant, as he gave the orders ; it came back 
 plainer still in the antiphony from waist and 
 forecastle, and i)lainest of all in the wild swing 
 of the chantey that rose from the men who were 
 hauling at the braces. She could only guess at 
 the meaning of it all, but the excitement infected 
 her none the less for that. The glances of all 
 about her shifted between the hurrying clouds 
 which were piling up the western sky and the 
 spreading daub of black smoke off to the south- 
 ward, and her eyes followed theirs. She could 
 make out a funnel and a hull below the daub now. 
 
 Before the freshening wind the Southern Cross 
 ' was rapidly gathering headway, but the funnel 
 grew larger and the hull plainer and the black 
 streamer of smoke flaunted wider against the 
 sky. Martin had been watching it through the 
 glass. Now he came up beside Celia and handed 
 it to her. 
 
 " You ma}^ recognize the craft," he said. 
 " She's out of Wilmington most likely." 
 
 The steamer was a small side-wheel craft 
 which she had often seen in the river. The last 
 thing about it to catch her attention was an 
 ungainly-looking object in the bows. While she 
 still looked at it there came from it, silently, a 
 puff of flame and white smoke. 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 49 
 
 <« What are they doing ? " she asked. 
 
 <' Firing. Listen ! " and on the heels of his 
 words came through the air a sort of throb 
 which sounded, if one may call it a sound, like a 
 single tap upon a great drum. 
 
 "At us ? " She asked it half incredulousl}'. 
 He nodded. '' That's why we're running awa}^," 
 he said. 
 
 Mrs. Townley had been in the cabin reading, 
 and the " drum beat " brought her her first inti- 
 mation of the sudden turn affairs had taken. 
 She hurried on deck, and a glance at the steamer 
 and a sentence from Martin told her what the 
 situation was. 
 
 " Wasn't that a rather imperative summons 
 to surrender your ship ? " she asked, a little un- 
 easily. 
 
 Martin smiled. " Not while this breeze holds." 
 
 The gun spoke again, and Martin noted how 
 far short the shot fell. " They'd hardly do that 
 if they weren't afraid we had the heels of them. 
 How^ever, for a while, I think you and Miss 
 Celia had better go below. There's no danger 
 up here, but perhaps — " he smilingly admitted 
 the paradox — " there'd be even less down 
 there." 
 
 Celia protested for a moment, but soon yielded 
 and followed her mother down the companion- 
 way. 
 
50 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 Really the issue was as yet by no means 
 decided. It was true, as lie said, tlie Southern 
 Cross was outfooting her pursuer who had but 
 six or seven knots in her, at tlie best, and the 
 breeze was blowing fresher steadily. But the 
 steamer when she sighted the ship had been 
 some distance to seaward of her, and on giving 
 chase, instead of running in, had preserved the 
 advantage this position bestowed. The westerly 
 sweep of the coast, compelled the Southern Cross 
 to put out seaward also, and therefore to run on 
 the hypothenuse of a triangle, while the steamer 
 held to one of the legs. For a while, in spite of 
 the ship's greater speed, the space between the 
 two narrowed alarmingly. When the steamer 
 fired for the third time the shot came uncom- 
 fortably close. 
 
 But that was the worst of it, and in a moment 
 more they were across the line and running 
 straight away from her. The light was nearly 
 gone, but by what was left they saw the steamer 
 put back for home. Martin stared after her 
 until she was lost in the dark. Then he drew a 
 long breath and went slowly down into the cabin, 
 where his passengers were waiting. 
 
 The gravity of his face misled both of them. 
 Celia sprang up with some appearance of con- 
 sternation and asked, " Are they going to cap- 
 ture us ? " Mrs. Townley's face asked the same 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 51 
 
 question, but its expression was more complex, 
 and when Martin answered, " No, they've given 
 it up and run for home," her eyes lowered and 
 her lips pressed together. 
 
 From the first she had had the true bearings 
 of the situation much better than her daughter, 
 and while Celia had merely felt the pleasant 
 excitement of the chase, she had seen all too 
 clearly which way their own advantage lay. 
 But in spite of herself her feelings were much 
 like those of the girl. Her husband had told her 
 when he purchased them how valuable to the 
 cause would be the boxes of muskets in the hold, 
 to say nothing of the rest of the cargo. She 
 knew what enthusiasm would kindle in doubtful 
 hearts when so proud a prize as the Southern 
 Cross should be towed up the river and tied to 
 the dock in Wilmington. And yet, while the 
 issue was in doubt she had not been able to wish 
 the vision to be realized. An affection for the 
 ship, — yes, and for her Yankee master — had 
 stood between her and her reason, but now that 
 it was all over she reproached herself for her 
 doubtful loyalty. 
 
 " We are giving you a great deal of trouble 
 in getting rid of us. Captain Carver," she said 
 uneasily. 
 
 *' I did nothing that I wasn't glad to do.'' 
 The tense of the verb and the seriousness of his 
 
62 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 voire gave lier a liiiil of wliai was coining, and 
 even Celia looked uj) at him curiously. 
 
 "How long — " Mrs. Towiiley was trying to 
 speak naturally, but she had difliculty in manag- 
 ing it — " how long will it take us to get back 
 to where w^e were this afternoon ? A good while, 
 I suppose, against this wind ? " 
 
 " We can't go back," he said. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " cried Celia. " Why 
 can't we go back?" 
 
 " I ought not to have gone in to-day. I didn't 
 know how great the risk was ; but I do know 
 now, and I have no right to run it again." 
 
 " What are you going to do with us ? " Mrs. 
 Townley asked. 
 
 " We're sailing for New York." 
 
 " But we can't go to New York," said Celia, as 
 though he did not understand. " We're Confed- 
 erates, and they have gone to war with us. We 
 comH go to New York." 
 
 He made no reply, except to shake his head. 
 He sat facing them, but not looking at them. 
 His hands w-ere clasped on the table. There 
 was a period of silence. At first sheer incre- 
 dulity had held Celia quiet, but now this was 
 wearing away and her excitement increased 
 with every moment. 
 
 " Are you a coward. Captain Carver ? " she 
 burst out at last. " Were you so frightened by 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 53 
 
 three shots out of an old iron cannon that you 
 don't care what becomes of us ? " 
 
 He made no reply, not even by raising his 
 eyes, not by a twitch of his muscles or a quiver 
 in his regular breathing. It would have lessened 
 her anger to have seen that her words hurt. His 
 silence goaded her further. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, " we haven't understood. 
 Perhaps you're waiting — " 
 
 Then he raised his eyes, and they checked the 
 w^ords that were on her lips. 
 
 Martin slowly got to his feet. " Good night, 
 Mrs. Townley," he said, and then went up on deck. 
 
 She took the girl in her arms and tried to 
 cjuiet her. "Whatever they do to us we can 
 show them that even Southern women are braver 
 than they are." 
 
 Celia drew herself up quickly. " I wasn't 
 thinking of that," she said. " I suppose they will 
 do all they can think of. They're cowards, and 
 they'll delight to torment a couple of women. 
 We'll be tarred and feathered, perhaps. You 
 won't care what they do, will you, mother ? " 
 
 She tried to play the role of comforter her- 
 self, but presently her voice caught, and her lips 
 quivered, and her head w^ent back to its place 
 in her mother's lap. 
 
 " He's just a Yankee, after all, Mummy," she 
 said. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Three days later, when the Soidhern Cross had 
 passed the Narrows and was towing up New 
 York Bay, the steward knocked at Mrs. Town- 
 ley's door and said Mr. Carver would like to see 
 her. 
 
 " Very well," she answered ; " I will come in 
 a moment." She turned a little pale and looked 
 over toward Celia. 
 
 " ril go \Y\i\\ you," said she. " It can't be 
 so very bad. Mummy. And it will be better to 
 know what is going to happen to us than to go 
 on wondering as we've done for three days." 
 
 They had not seen Martin since that evening, 
 off the coast of North Carolina, when he had 
 told them that he would have to take them to 
 New York with him. They came out into the 
 cabin now, as coldly, as proudly, as in the days 
 of the Terror the grand ladies of France had 
 gone to the guillotine. Celia came first, her eyes 
 fixed straight ahead of her. She would have 
 scorned to lower them, but she hoped they might 
 avoid an encounter with Martin Carver. Instead 
 of him she saw a white-haired old gentleman, 
 who bowed ceremoniously to her and to her 
 
 54 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 55 
 
 mother as Martin, from somewhere — Celia 
 would not look — introduced him as his father. 
 The captain then excused himself, and as in leav- 
 ing the room he passed through Celia's field of 
 vision and he looked at her, she — she could not 
 do it — dropped her eyes. When she looked 
 up at the old gentleman again, Martin was gone. 
 
 He looked like Martin's father. Twenty years 
 of good living on land had not entirely obliter- 
 ated the lean, rugged Carver look he had about 
 him. His eyes were like Martin's, cool, gray, 
 purposeful, but along with the likeness there 
 was a marked difference. And there Celia 
 stopped with a blush, realizing whom she was 
 comparing him with, and began to listen to what 
 he was saying. 
 
 " No doubt it seems a calamity to you, but we 
 shall do what we can to make it as light as pos- 
 sible. It probably will not be long before we 
 can send you back to your friends ; in the mean- 
 while we shall try to take their places. You 
 are to leave all the responsibility of the affair to 
 me. It was my error which caused the accident, 
 and it shall be my first concern to repair it. 
 Our home will be yours until then." 
 
 Mrs. Townley had plenty of self-control, but 
 the sudden revulsion of feeling which the import 
 of Mr. Carver's words brought her almost made 
 her giddy. Until now they had been standing. 
 
56 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 The old gentleman cast a quick glance at her and 
 placed a cliair for her. " I hope," he said with 
 grave concern, '^ that my son made it quite clear 
 to 3^ou that you had notliing to ai)prehend beyond 
 a vexatious delay in reaching home." The faces 
 of both the women made part of the trutli clear 
 to him ; and without waiting for words he went 
 on, " He did it in a lubberly way, no doubt, but 
 you must try to forgive him." 
 
 They thanked him as well as their bewildered 
 condition would allow", and protested that they 
 could not consider imposing upon his hospitality 
 as he suggested. " Well, well," said he, " Mrs. 
 Carver shall urge that matter. I expect her to 
 be w^aiting at the wharf for us. I sent her w^ord 
 as soon as the ship was signalled. She is ab- 
 surdly anxious about that precious boy of hers." 
 
 He insisted that they go on deck, for they were 
 missing something that they should see. " I have 
 sailed into all the great harbors in the world," 
 he said, " and I know few more beautiful than 
 this." 
 
 Going on deck meant an almost unavoidable 
 encounter with Martin, but that must come soon 
 in any event. He bowed gravely when they 
 came in view, but did not join them until his 
 father summoned him. Celia watched his prog- 
 ress across the deck with a good deal of embar- 
 rassment, but for all that she was distinctly 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 57 
 
 disappointed when her mother almost literally 
 threw herself between them and carried the cap- 
 tain off, leaving her undisturbed to listen to old 
 Mr. Carver's talk and to see the sights he was 
 pointing out to her. She almost wished that her 
 mother had been a little less successful. 
 
 Her attention wandered from Mr. Carver's 
 talk, and seeing that, he ceased, though not 
 abruptly, to make any demands on it. 
 
 A ferry-boat, bound for Jersey City, crossed 
 under their stern and Celia, looking down into it, 
 had her thoughts brought sharply back to her 
 present surroundings. 
 
 " Soldiers ! " she cried. Her eyes brightened 
 for an instant with a simple girlish delight in 
 the military. They w^ere not very soldierly sol- 
 diers yet, this first regiment of New Hampshire 
 Volunteers, but the uniforms, the colors, the 
 blare of the band all were here. Whistles were 
 screaming a wild salute to them, and six or seven 
 of the Southern Cross's crew jumped into the 
 rigging at sight of the flag and cheered it lustily. 
 
 But the color which had kindled in the girl's 
 face and the light in her eyes faded quickly. 
 She remembered against whom those men were 
 going forth to fight. " Soldiers," she repeated 
 softly. 
 
 The old man had been watching her uncon- 
 scious face. Now he turned and angrily sum- 
 
58 TEAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 moned the men down from tlie shrouds. 
 " Fools ! " he said. " They cheer. When I was 
 a boy I saw the battle-field at New Orleans 
 when it was three days old. I have never 
 cheered soldiers since." 
 
 He paused. Some great passion was at work 
 behind his dark old face, and in a moment it 
 burst forth. His arm swept over the city. 
 " They don't know what it means," he cried. 
 "They have run into it like sheep, herded by a 
 pack of mad abolitionist curs." 
 
 Celia looked at him, wide-eyed. " Do many 
 people in the North feel that way about it ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Not many, since Sumter," he answered dryly. 
 A flag at half-mast caught his eye, and he 
 pointed to it. " That is for Colonel Ellsworth. 
 They buried him yesterday. He was the 
 first." 
 
 Then he abandoned the subject abruptly and 
 again showed her the sights they were passing, 
 and Celia, if she only half heard, at least kept 
 up the appearance of listening. 
 
 She was still trying to realize what had 
 happened and where she was, and the attempt 
 had not as yet met with more than indifferent 
 success. Until her father's unexpected arrival 
 in London had set this wild dance to going, she 
 had lived all her life according to plan. Things 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 59 
 
 had happened as it had been expected they would 
 happen, and after long prevision had made ready 
 the way for them. Since then events had been 
 as fantastic, as inconsequent, as anything that 
 could have happened in a dream. The long 
 voyage in the Southern Cross never seemed real ; 
 then her welcome home — the little river steamer 
 she had made so many excursions in, coming out 
 and firing cannon shots at her — would have 
 been ridiculous if it had not seemed so tragic ; 
 and now, at last, the coming into captivity to 
 find the enemy effusively friendly put the cap of 
 absurdity upon the whole affair. And yet it was 
 all very grim earnest. 
 
 Mrs. Carver was the first person to come aboard 
 after the Southern Cross was alongside her wharf, 
 and here Celia found what would have been a 
 fresh surprise had she been in a state of mind 
 where anything could surprise her. She was a 
 gentle little lady, with gray hair and a sweet 
 voice, and there was no resisting her. Going to 
 live with her — a perfect stranger — seemed 
 somehow a perfectly natural thing to do when 
 she invited them. 
 
 In ten minutes Mrs. Townley and Celia were 
 in love with her. And when Mrs. Carver, laying 
 her hand proudly on her son's arm, said, " I hope 
 my big boy has made your long voj^age as com- 
 fortable as possible," Celia blushed to the hair. 
 
60 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 What would this gentle lady think when she 
 knew of that scene in the cabin, and of those 
 last three days whicli had succeeded it ? Ap- 
 parently Martin had not told his father of it 
 yet. Was it possible that he would not tell 
 at all ? 
 
 There were no half-tones in Celia's judgments ; 
 they were all done in black or white, and it really 
 seemed as though the course of things had turned 
 her from one extreme to the other and back 
 again, just for the purpose of mocking her. Any- 
 way, this much was clear to her, that she owed 
 Martin an apology. It would not be a very effu- 
 sive one. Somehow she still felt some resentment 
 against him, owed him a grudge. Not for having 
 brought her to New York ; she saw now that he 
 couldn't have done anything else, and she was 
 not very sorry either that her voyage was leading 
 her through such adventures. But he had de- 
 ceived her, — that was what it came to, — he had 
 allowed her uncontradicted to think the most 
 ridiculous things about himself, his family, his 
 Yankee neighbors. She had never told him what 
 she thought, to be sure, but he might have known. 
 He might have denied in so many words that his 
 father was a beast, his neighbors a frenzied mob 
 who would tear her and her mother limb from 
 limb as soon as they stepped ashore. Well, not 
 that exactly, but anyway he ought to have done 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 61 
 
 something. Celia seldom had any difficulty in 
 " making a case," but this against Martin did 
 not seem to prosper. Slie left it for the present 
 and came back to the conversation of the others. 
 
 u Why isn't Winthrop here ? " Mr. Carver was 
 asking. 
 
 " I sent your messenger on to find him," said 
 Mrs. Carver. " He won't be long after he knows 
 that Martin has come home. But I don't think 
 we need wait for him," she went on, turning to 
 Martin. " He can find you at home if you're not 
 here." 
 
 " Oh, I can't go up with you," said Martin. 
 " I've a good deal of work down here before I can 
 get away. I'll try to be up to dinner, but I can't 
 promise even that." 
 
 " Then you have an incompetent mate," said 
 John Carver, " and Mr. Jones has never been 
 called that. Can't come to dinner ! Nonsense ! " 
 
 " We'll take you home at once," his wife said 
 to Mrs. Townley and Celia. " You must be very 
 tired. Oh, you needn't bring anything at all. 
 Martin will have all your things sent up." 
 
 While they were preparing to leave the ship, 
 Celia tried to get an opportunity to make her 
 apology to Martin. She was only going to say, 
 " I beg your pardon. Captain Carver." That 
 would be ample justice. But the opportunity 
 even for that did not come. Their light hand- 
 
62 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 baggage was brouglit up on deck, and a sailor 
 carried it asliore. ]\Ir. Carver was already leading 
 Mrs. Townley down the gang-plank. Mrs. Carver 
 took her arm and started with her. But she was 
 determined to make that apology before her 
 case against Martin was undermined any further. 
 
 " Here comes Winthrop," said Mr. Carver. 
 " Come along, hoy, you were almost too late." 
 
 The other three were hesitating halfway down 
 the plank, Martin still standing at the head of it. 
 Celia turned resolutely and hurried back. The 
 others were coming back, too, but more slowly. 
 
 She stepped in front of Martin and held out 
 her hand. For some reason she looked up into 
 his face before she spoke the little formula she 
 had on her tongue. She stood so for an instant, 
 silent. The formula had fled. Then, " I'm 
 sorry," she said, not very steadily. " Will you 
 please forgive me again ? " 
 
 " My son, Winthrop, Miss Townley," said Mrs. 
 Carver. 
 
 Winthrop made the fourth in the carriage when 
 they drove home, Mr. Carver having offered some 
 urgent business at his counting-house as an 
 unconscious excuse for an uninterrupted hour 
 with Martin, and it was due to this fact, 
 perhaps, that Celia's first impression of the city 
 was so vague. Winthrop was fully as interest- 
 ing as Broadway, and much more so than any 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 63 
 
 of the other streets they saw. He was not a 
 Carver at all, she thought. He was smaller, 
 handsomer, more agile, alert, compact, than his 
 father or Martin ; and though Celia did not phrase 
 it in just this way, she was soon aware that 
 these differences were mental as well as physical. 
 
 She and her mother liked him at once. He 
 did more to make them feel that they were 
 among their own kind of people than any of the 
 others, even Mrs. Carver herself, had so far been 
 able to do. His manners were more like their 
 own, fairly effusive as compared with Mr. Car- 
 ver's or Martin's. He paid them all the easy, 
 obvious, direct compliments which Northern men 
 of intelligence seldom indulge in, but which are 
 simply good manners in the South. It was he 
 who disposed of their last protest against being 
 forced to impose on the Carvers' hospitality. 
 
 " If the old Cross had kept you a month longer 
 crossing the ocean, you wouldn't have felt that 
 you were indebted to us for our hospitality, 
 would you ? " he asked laughingly. " Well, it 
 comes to exactly the same thing. You must 
 pretend that you aren't in any hurry at all, that 
 you're having a fine time, and will be sorry when 
 it's all over. And we have to pretend, I suppose, 
 that we're trying our very best to get rid of you 
 and pack you off to your friends. Of course, 
 we're only human and we may not be trying as 
 
64 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 hard as we seem to be. But wliatever you sus- 
 pect, you won't be allowed to complain." 
 
 The carriage pulled up before a large house on 
 an old-fashioned but still fashionable square. 
 There was nothing about the outside of it to 
 reward Celiacs curious glance, for it was exactly 
 like scores — hundreds — of others they had passed 
 on the w^ay, and for the present it was evident 
 also that she must content herself with only the 
 most cursory acquaintance with the interior. 
 Mrs. Carver was sure they must be tired, — and 
 as regarded Mrs. Townley, she w^as quite right ; 
 their rooms were all ready for them and they 
 might rest undisturbed until dinner-time. 
 
 " I haven't thought to ask before," said Mrs. 
 Townley, " everything has been so surprising 
 that I have taken it as a matter of course, — but 
 how did you know we were coming ? " 
 
 " Mr. Carver had a letter from Mr. Odell telling 
 us you had sailed. The President proclaimed 
 North Carolina under blockade the twenty-second 
 of last month, so w^e knew you couldn't get in 
 there, or that if you did Martin couldn't get out. 
 We thought he would bring you here, and when 
 they signalled the Southern Cross, we were almost 
 sure you would be aboard. Everything has been 
 ready for you here for two weeks. But I'll not 
 keep you talking any longer. You must have 
 your rest." 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 65 
 
 Celia did not much want to go — there were 
 still too many things to see and hear about — but 
 she went along obediently with her mother. 
 She found she was tired after the excitement 
 began to wear off, and she also found the soli- 
 tary hours of value in that they made it possible 
 to " take an observation " as she phrased it, 
 proud of her newly acquired nautical phraseology. 
 She had a good many matters to consider. 
 
 She was dressed for dinner a little before her 
 mother, and she went dow^n to the library, where 
 Mrs. Carver had told her the family assembled, 
 alone. It was a big room, — the wdiole second 
 floor of the addition at the rear of the house ; 
 one entered it from a landing halfway up the 
 stairway in the main hall. 
 
 In one of the window^ recesses she saw a 
 man's figure. He was staring out, and some 
 other sound in the house had prevented his hear- 
 ing the rustle of her skirt. The w^ell-remembered 
 outline of his back w^as all she saw of him. For 
 an instant she stood still. 
 
 She had hoped he might be waiting for her, 
 waiting to tell her whether he had forgiven her 
 — again — or not. 
 
 When she moved again he heard her and 
 swung around. The thought that he had, 
 for some reason, shaved his beard had almost 
 time to form in her mind before she saw that 
 
66 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 this was not Martin at all, but Winthrop. She 
 gave a little gasp. 
 
 " I'm sorry I startled you," he said. " I 
 shouldn't have moved so quickly. I was rumi- 
 nating alone, and I guess I was a little startled 
 myself." 
 
 He was a Carver now that neither his father 
 nor his brother was by to serve as a standard 
 for comparison. She wondered how she could 
 have thought him small. 
 
 She was disappointed, of course, but it would 
 not do to punish him on that account. It was 
 easy to fall into talk with him, the kind of talk 
 she was well accustomed to, and by dinner-time, 
 when Martin and his father really did come in, 
 they were already on very friendly terms. 
 
 That this first dinner did not prove a little 
 stiff and uncomfortable was due more perhaps 
 to Winthrop than to any one else. Every one 
 at the table had tact of the negative sort which 
 avoids treading forbidden ground and touching 
 tender places, but when conversation threatened 
 to flag under this rigorous editing, it was almost 
 always Winthrop who set the ball in motion 
 again. 
 
 Nevertheless, the one small hitch that occurred 
 was clearly his own doing. 
 
 "Do you still sail the Kate?'' Martin had 
 asked him. 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 67 
 
 " Are you a sailor, too ? " Celia demanded 
 before he had time to reply. " Are you captain 
 of something ? " 
 
 Winthrop laughed. "No," he said, "I'm just 
 a common landsman, the one landsman of the 
 Carver family. They haven't had a disgrace 
 like me for three generations." 
 
 Celia vv^as conscious that both old Mr. Carver 
 and his wife made a little movement, he of im- 
 patience, she of protest ; but before either could 
 speak, Winthrop went on : — 
 
 " No, the Kate was only a small but vicious 
 cat-boat that I used to spend my holidays in. 
 But she made so many attempts on my life that 
 it grew to be a bore. I sold her last year, and 
 now I sail in a small ark of a cutter that — well, 
 I guess she'd even suit you, Martin." 
 
 " Winthrop w^ould have me capsize the Centaur 
 or the Southern Gross, just as he used to roll over 
 in the Kate once or twice a week. He thinks 
 I'm over cautious because I don't. Oh, you 
 won't be able to make him see the difference, 
 Mrs. Townley. He's determined not to." 
 
 It was a long time before Celia understood all 
 that those words of Winthrop's signified to his 
 father and his mother, all that he meant by them 
 himself, but here, perhaps, is the best place to 
 set it down in order. 
 
 Winthrop had had no hand in the selection of 
 
68 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 his career; llie great Christinas storm of '53 
 had decided the matter for him. Up to that 
 time the beautiful fleet of Wliite C clippers — 
 they were named, all of them, from the stars or 
 constellations, /Southern Cross, Ue?itanr, Capella, 
 Cj/gnus, Castor, Corona B or calls — had never 
 known a disaster. But in that storm the ship 
 Cajpella, homeward bound and nearly home, 
 went down with all on board, and carried w^th 
 her the bodies of the two elder sons, John and 
 Perry Carver. 
 
 Their mother had said good-by to them once, 
 as only a year before to Martin also, bravely, as 
 became the wife of an old sailor. She had seen 
 that they must go, that their father's stories of 
 the sea, that the sight so often before their eyes 
 of the great three skysail yarders of the fleet mak- 
 ing harbor or putting to sea, that the very blood 
 in their veins, all called them imperiously to the 
 blue water. 
 
 But Winthrop she had always hoped to keep, 
 and after this disaster John Carver and his wife 
 came to an express agreement that, though 
 Martin should go on as he had begun, Winthrop's 
 life, whatever happened, should not be staked in 
 that perilous wager with death. 
 
 As for him, certainly it w^as pleasanter to go 
 to Harvard, to be free, to have congenial com- 
 panions and plenty of money than it would have 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 69 
 
 been to follow Martin's arduous course " over the 
 bows." 
 
 That was very well while it lasted, but many 
 a time since he had graduated in '60 and tried to 
 settle down to the study of law he wished he 
 had gone to sea, to California, that his work was 
 anything but what it was. He and his father 
 no longer fitted together comfortably in the close 
 quarters of their small family. 
 
 Winthrop's mind was of the impractically 
 idealistic sort which absorbs revolutionary ideas 
 with extraordinary avidity, and the friends he 
 had made at Harvard and about Boston had 
 encouraged rather than checked this tendency in 
 him. So he brought home a set of opinions 
 regarding abolition and " nigger equality " which 
 his father regarded as impious and incendiary. 
 Winthrop kept them to himself as well as he 
 could, but as the old man, who could see half an 
 inch into a solid plank, speedily divined them, it 
 might have been better if they had threshed the 
 whole matter out and come to an understanding. 
 
 Winthrop, on his part, had divined something, 
 too ; namely, that his father regarded him as 
 of rather softer metal than his brothers, as 
 an effeminate creature who was not to be 
 reckoned with in the serious affairs of life. The 
 old man himself was hardly aware of the exist- 
 ence of this contempt ; he never dreamed that 
 
70 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 he was expressing it in a phrase, or in a more 
 significant silence, every day. 
 
 But Winthrop understood all too well, and as 
 time went on and he grew more sensitive to it, 
 the sting grew more nearly intolerable. It was 
 this rather than the irksomeness of his law 
 studies which had driven him to his reckless 
 sport in the Kate. The pleasure of reaching 
 along in a gale, of shipping half a sea every now 
 and then into his crazy little craft, was the only 
 one which could salve the hurts his father uncon- 
 sciously inflicted. Since he had sold the Kate, 
 at a tearful entreaty from his mother, he had 
 been denied even that. 
 
 It was she who held this ill-assorted pair 
 together. For her the old man tried to tone 
 down, if not to silence, his savage outbursts 
 against the ideals and the leaders Winthrop had 
 made his own, and for her Winthrop had made 
 an even greater sacrifice. 
 
 Sumter and the call for volunteers were 
 almost more than he could bear. A dozen times 
 he told her he must go. 
 
 Her answer always was, " You must go, of 
 course, when your country needs you. But you 
 will cut the link between you and your father if 
 you go. It will break up our home. So do not 
 go until you are sure the time has come. I am 
 praying it may never come." 
 
THE SOUTHERN CROSS 71 
 
 And, as yet, Winthrop had not gone. 
 
 Of course only the merest fraction of this 
 situation was even guessed at by Celia. But she 
 saw, even in the good-natured talk about the 
 table, that there was a rift in the relations 
 between Winthrop and his father, and Win- 
 throp's speech about being a landsman gave her 
 just enough of a hint to waken her sympathies 
 for him. 
 
 She would have had less inclination for specu- 
 lating over the riddle had Martin been less 
 absorbed with his father. She said to herself 
 that she did not expect him to be anything else, 
 of course, but still her determination to be very 
 nice to poor Mr. Winthrop was strengthened a 
 little by the fact that during that first evening 
 Martin had not made a chance for a quiet word 
 quite alone with her. 
 
PART II 
 
 MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 When the Townleys arrived in New York, 
 within a day or two of the first of June, the first 
 convulsion of anger, the fierce excitement which 
 all over the North had followed the attack on 
 Sumter, had subsided. New York city had had 
 its full share of this excitement : it had deliri- 
 ously welcomed the Sixth Massachusetts when it 
 went through the city on its way to the front, 
 via Baltimore ; it had sent oif its own darling 
 Seventh ; it had heard the chimes in Trinity 
 steeple playing Yankee Doodle ; it had packed 
 as much of its great self as possible into Union 
 Square to hear the silver-haired Senator Baker, 
 with his flaming tongue, pleading that they 
 avenge the flag ; it had agonized during those 
 interminable hours when no word came from 
 Washington ; it had joined full voiced in the cry 
 of the whole North that chastisement should be 
 dealt out speedily and with no faltering hand. 
 
 But by the end of May had begun the inevi- 
 table quieting down. The regiments which New 
 England was still pouring through the streets, the 
 arming of ferry-boats, tugs, anything which 
 moved by steam for service in the blockade, the 
 
 75 
 
76 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 roar of the cupolas when they were casting 
 cannon, the beating of the ploughshare into the 
 sword, all the grim business which could be 
 seen going forward on every hand, had fallen into 
 a routine of its own, and the stupendous fact of 
 war, though still unrealized, began to be taken as 
 a matter of course. 
 
 In the Carver family, however, this readjust- 
 ment had not taken place. The tension was 
 great, almost unbearable ; the feeling was in the 
 air that before very long something must break. 
 
 It arose, of course, between the old man and 
 his younger son. There was a strong bond 
 between them ; the strain would be terrible be- 
 fore it would be broken, but break it must some 
 day. 
 
 John Carver's ideas about the war, which had 
 so astonished Celia, had, up to the attack on 
 Sumter, been held by many conservative men 
 through all the North, and in New York city by 
 a really considerable proportion of the "solid 
 men." That Carver himself had not been swept 
 away in the mighty wave of the fourteenth of 
 April, the wave which carried along the strong 
 and silenced the timorous, was, after all, natural 
 enough when one considers the sort of man he 
 was. 
 
 All the forces that played upon nim drew 
 in one direction. He had gone his own way, 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 77 
 
 followed his own judgment, taking the chances 
 it approved, and the event had always justified 
 the course he had taken. He had, indeed, learned 
 to obey once, but ever since that remote day 
 he had exacted obedience to his own absolute 
 authority ; it had been paid him by his crews, 
 his clerks, his captains, and his four lean, big- 
 jawed sons. In all those years he never felt dis- 
 cipline, either from men or events. 
 
 To such a man, slavery could hardly seem 
 wicked ; he was too well accustomed to it under 
 another name. Add to this the fact that he 
 never wasted his time with abstract questions, 
 that he had many friends and a great deal of 
 trade through the South, that, like the true, con- 
 servative, successful man of commerce that he 
 was, he made an idol of " things as they are," and 
 it will be readily understood how the ten years 
 of anti-slavery agitation before the war infuriated 
 him, and how intolerably bitter it was that his 
 son should be heart and soul with the agitators. 
 And when his mind was fully made up, his sym- 
 pathies fully enlisted, he was not to be moved. 
 
 On Monday morning, July twenty-second, the 
 boy who delivered John Carver's daily paper left, 
 by mistake, the Tribune instead of the Daily 
 News^ a fact which Mr. Carver discovered when 
 he opened it in the bus on his way to his ofSce. 
 As he read the black headlines his face dark- 
 
78 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 ened. He crumpled the paper together, but in a 
 moment he opened it again and ))egan reading. 
 
 It announced a great victory of the Union 
 arms the day before at Bull Run, the greatest 
 battle that had ever been fought on the American 
 continent. It gave the details of the fierce strug- 
 gle, the rout of the disunion forces, told that 
 General Beauregard had sent McDowell a flag 
 of truce which the Federal general had refused 
 to receive unless it offered an unconditional sur- 
 render. 
 
 There w^as no malice in John Carver's regret 
 of a Union victory. The South had a right to 
 secede, to go by itself if it chose. Force could 
 not bring it back. A temporary success for the 
 North could only make the struggle longer, 
 costlier, bloodier. It could have but one ending, 
 and he hoped the end would come soon. The 
 present state of things, if prolonged, meant 
 ruin. 
 
 His own business was at a standstill. The 
 Southern Cross and the Corona were tied to their 
 wharves unable to get a cargo, practically unable 
 to get insurance, since Confederate privateers 
 were scouring the seas ready to pounce upon 
 and make prizes of them. The Centmor was due, 
 overdue, from San Francisco, and when she 
 came in, if she came at all, her case would be 
 the same. Trade, except in the veriest neces- 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 79 
 
 sities, was paralyzed. The cotton-mills would 
 soon be closed. And now, after this victory, the 
 North might keep up the useless struggle for six 
 months. President Lincoln was already enlist- 
 ing soldiers for three years, but no one but the 
 abolitionist fanatics could expect that the war 
 would last as long as that. 
 
 There lay on his desk a letter addressed in the 
 familiar hand of Mr. Patrick Odell ; evidently 
 this week there was something beyond the 
 advices which regularly came from his head 
 clerk. As soon as John Carver, with a certain 
 leisurely haste, could get through the two or 
 three duties which were part of an iron routine 
 with him, he opened and read it. 
 
 It opened with some matters of rather unim- 
 portant business, but soon proceeded to a discus- 
 sion of the war — guardedly, of course, for the 
 writer knew well how sore John Carver was on 
 the subject. 
 
 " I congratulate you, by the way," it read, 
 " that the Southern Cross is safe in port. If she 
 had sailed a month later, it is not unlikely that 
 the Sumter would have got her. We over here 
 have heard a good deal of her achievements in 
 the Caribbean, and are wondering what the 
 result of them will be. I hope none of your 
 other ships are in the range of Semmes's activi- 
 ties. Another question — " 
 
80 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 John Carver laid down the letter and looked 
 thoughtfully out of the window. It was not the 
 first time the idea had been suggested to him 
 that the Sumter might be accountable for the 
 Centaurs dela}^ in reaching port, but it weighed 
 heavier now with him than it had before. After 
 a few minutes he shook his head and returned 
 to Mr. OdelPs letter. 
 
 " Another question, w^hicli I find still more 
 interesting, is the proposed blockade — or is it a 
 real thing by this time ? It is a heroic idea, at 
 least, this blockading of a thousand miles of 
 coast. No one but an American could have 
 seriously thought of such a thing. That's not 
 saying it can't be done, either. But when it's 
 done — that's the point. 
 
 <' Of course there will be a cotton famine over 
 here, and the spinners, if they don't starve to 
 death, will at least get thinner than foxes. And 
 we shall see cotton bringing anywdiere from 
 sixpence to tw^o shillings a pound in Liverpool. 
 It may bring almost anything. But do you see 
 the other side of it ? What will cotton be worth 
 on the wharf in Charleston, shut up inside of the 
 blockade ? Anything you choose to give for it. 
 And wdiat would shoes and clothing and hard- 
 w^are be worth, lying alongside of that cotton ? 
 An3^thing you choose to ask for it. 
 
 " You may say that if the cotton could be 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWEXTY-SECOXD 81 
 
 brought out it wouldn't be cheap and if the 
 shoes could be brought in they wouldn't be dear, 
 and that I'm talking a contradiction in terms. 
 That's partly true, entirely true, so far as 
 ordinary ocean carriers go. If half a dozen 
 cruisers were lying off every Southern harbor, 
 neither a sailing ship nor a clums}-, creaking, 
 splashing steamer could get in nor out. The 
 ports would be sufficiently blockaded and the 
 state of things I have described would ensue. 
 
 " But the other day I saw on the Clyde a long, 
 low, thin snake of a craft sliding down the river 
 as quiet as a ghost, and it came to me that with 
 the aid of a bold man and a dark night three 
 times in four she could get through any blockade 
 that Mr. Lincoln can make. If she could make 
 it three times, you could afford to lose her the 
 fourth. I think it will be fully as profitable as 
 that. It will be easy to get the steamer if the 
 occasion arises. The trick will be to get the 
 
 man." 
 
 There was more to the letter, but Mr. Carver 
 had paused in his reading and was again frown- 
 ing out of the window, w^hen voices in his outer 
 office and the tramp of many feet caught his 
 attention. There was a gruff question, an answer 
 from one of his clerks, and without ceremony the 
 door was flung open. 
 
 " Dearborn ! " cried John Carver. The un- 
 
82 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 wonted informality in thus addressing a captain 
 was as significant as the note of relief in his 
 voice. " How did you get the Centaur in without 
 reporting her ? " 
 
 The captain had stopped a pace within the 
 door. He was a short, solidly built man with 
 a red face and a neck like a bull's. Indeed, the 
 resemblance went further, for he stood with his 
 head thrust forward and rolling a little from 
 side to side. 
 
 " What's the matter with you, man ? " Carver 
 demanded. " Why wasn't she signalled ? " 
 
 With an effort Captain Dearborn met his com- 
 mander's ej^es. '' She'll never be signalled again, 
 sir," he said. " She's lost." 
 
 " You lost her ? You ! " thundered John 
 Carver. 
 
 " She was took ! " Dearborn's voice was 
 shaking with anger and at last broke away 
 from him. " She was took by a crew of 
 damned pirates. They burnt her — may they 
 swing from a yard and burn in hell for it ! 
 They burnt her ! " 
 
 " Stop cursing," said John Carver, " and tell 
 me what you mean. Who burnt her ? " 
 
 " It was Semmes, sir, in the old Hahana. 
 They've mounted an eight-inch gun on her, and 
 they call her the Stomter. They sighted us not 
 far off Barbadoes, and signalled us to heave to 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 83 
 
 with a solid shot across our bows. It was near 
 dark, and with a little more breeze we'd have 
 given her the slip. But the breeze fell and she 
 came up with us. They made us leave her and 
 go aboard the Sicmter, and then they took what 
 they wanted out of her and set her afire. It 
 was dark by then and we could see her blazing 
 for miles. They tried to enlist us in their damned 
 ' navy,' as they call it, but they didn't get a 
 man ; so they took our parole and put us ashore 
 at San Juan. We got over to Havana and so 
 up here. We've all come back together, and 
 we're going to try to get exchanged so we can 
 enlist — regular — and square accounts with him. 
 And if we don't get exchanged — I can't speak 
 for anybody but myself, but much good may 
 my parole do him ! " 
 
 It had only been by the greatest exercise of 
 self-control that Captain Dearborn had been ca- 
 pable of so matter-of-fact, consecutive a report, 
 and when, as he finished, he saw John Carver 
 fling out his hand in a furious gesture, his own 
 rage against the Sumter and her crew burst forth 
 again, volcanic, lurid. It was a fine, deep anger, 
 despite its facile expression. 
 
 But the look in John Carver's fierce old face 
 checked it in full torrent. " They are not to 
 blame," he cried. He had risen from his chair 
 and was speaking not only to Dearborn but to 
 
84 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 the little group — the three mates and a seaman 
 or two from the Centaur — who were gathered 
 in the open doorway. His voice vibrated with 
 a perfectly savage intensity. 
 
 " They are not to blame. I have seen ships 
 burn myself, yes, and have burned them. Don't 
 curse them. Curse the men who drove them 
 to it. Curse the cowardly abolitionists who 
 started this war ! Curse thein with all your 
 hearts ! " 
 
 It took a bold man to say such words aloud 
 in that city and on that day. They rang in the 
 ears of men too completely astonished, con- 
 founded, to understand or fully to credit the 
 understanding when it came. There was a 
 moment of electrical silence ; then, striding two 
 paces nearer, John Carver went on : — 
 
 " Now, take that as you like. You can think 
 what you please. You can be fools if you please. 
 But understand this. The man — master, mate, 
 or seaman — who enlists in the navy or the army 
 either, or who tries to enlist, w411 never sail 
 under my flag again." 
 
 They were all brave men in that little group, 
 but they lowered their eyes and gave way before 
 this onslaught. Even the captain, the truculent 
 captain, could not find his voice. It was not 
 the threat that produced the effect, nor the sight 
 — the towering figure and the blazing eyes — of 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 85 
 
 him who uttered it. But his long usage of author- 
 ity, his habit of command, his ^lace^ affected 
 their imagination and they slunk away from 
 him. 
 
 All but one ! He was a common sailor, 
 elected by his mates of the port watch to help 
 represent the crew at this extraordinary con- 
 ference. Somehow he saw things in a simpler 
 relation. He shouldered forward, past the 
 officers, past Captain Dearborn himself, and 
 stood facing old John Carver, eye to eye. He 
 stretched out a steady hand and pointed it at 
 his face. 
 
 " You damned old rebel ! " he cried, " do 
 you think we care for your flag ? Go sell it to 
 Jeff Davis. We sail under the Stars and 
 Stripes ! " 
 
 John Carver moved as if to strike him. Then 
 his arms fell at his side. The sailor had kept 
 his attitude unchanged, the arm outstretched, 
 the finger pointing. Then he straightened back, 
 spat contemptuously on the floor, turned on his 
 heel, and deliberately made his way to the street 
 door. 
 
 One by one, in silence, the others followed him, 
 some grinning approval, waiting to offer him a 
 drink when they got outside, but the others, 
 the men of long service in the fleet, still shame- 
 faced, depressed, avoiding each other's eyes, as 
 
86 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 though tliey had witnessed a sacrilege. The 
 young sailor had only voiced the protest that had 
 arisen in their own hearts, but still they steered 
 away from him in the street, to his own intense 
 disgust. 
 
 « You're all secesh, that's the matter with 3^ou," 
 he growled. There was no hedge of divinity 
 about him, certainly, and, w^ith a sob of relief, 
 the third mate knocked him down out of hand. 
 
 Left alone, after dismissing his head clerk, who 
 came to see if anything had gone wrong, John 
 Carver returned to his desk and tried to I'ead the 
 rest of Mr. Odell's letter, though he was not in 
 condition to make much of it. 
 
 It is said, with some appearance of authority, 
 that no absolute ruler is ever really sane ; that 
 his abnormal relations with his fellow-humans 
 destroys the balance of his mind. Some such 
 fact as this may account, in part, for John Carver's 
 state. He was not yet an old man ; with his 
 immense vitality he ought to live another score 
 of years. His interest was as fully in the present 
 and the future, his perception was as quick, his 
 memory as automatic, as ever it had been. 
 But surely his actions this morning had had the 
 marks of senility on them. All his life since he 
 came to manhood he had, periodically, given way 
 to bursts of unrestrained anger, but none of them 
 had ever shaken him as this had. For it was 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 87 
 
 this anger and the young sailor's contumacy, 
 rather than the loss of his ship, that affected him 
 most. The really important fact he as yet 
 hardly realized. 
 
 He lost track of the time as he sat there fum- 
 bling over his letter and was not recalled to it 
 until his clerk came in and asked if he might go 
 to his dinner. At that he started like a person 
 who has been asleep, found his hat and cane, 
 and walked home, still in something of a daze. 
 
 The Townleys had not yet succeeded in getting 
 off. All mails to the South were stopped the 
 day of their arrival, so their only way, if there 
 was a way, of getting into communication with 
 Mr. Townley was through Mr. Odell in London. 
 They wrote at once, but got a reply from Mr. 
 Odell saying that Mr. Townley had sailed a week 
 before for Nassau, where he hoped to find a chance 
 to dodge through the blockade in some sort of 
 craft. He had of course been unable to have any 
 line of communication open to him from Mr. 
 Odell. He had sailed with the confident expec- 
 tation that his wife and daughter were safe in 
 Wilmington. 
 
 During the three or four weeks which had 
 elapsed since the receipt of this news, many let- 
 ters had been written, various expedients tried, 
 to inform him of their whereabouts, but as yet 
 with no success whatever. So Mrs. Townley and 
 
88 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 Celialiad stayed on from day to da}' and week to 
 week, lioping tliat something might turn up, Ijut 
 until it did quite powerless to do anything but 
 stay. Meanwliile they were not unhappy, for the 
 mutual alTection between tliem and the Carvers 
 kept their unavoidable obligation to them from 
 being a burdensome one. 
 
 When John Carver reached home, a little later 
 than usual, he found his wife, Winthrop, and Mrs. 
 Townley waiting for him in the library. Mrs. 
 Townle^^'s face and what he took to be the traces 
 of weeping in it acted strongly to bring him to 
 himself again. She made Celia's excuses, saying 
 her daughter had a headache and could not come 
 down to lunch. It touched him to think of 
 the forlornness of their case, away from all their 
 friends, in the enemy's country, and the enemy 
 all about them rejoicing in a crushing victory 
 over their friends and brothers. He exerted him- 
 self to show them every consideration, and the 
 exertion did him good. 
 
 Martin had not yet come home, but they sat 
 down to lunch without waiting for him. He 
 came in soon, however, very grave, and silently 
 took his place at the table. 
 
 " You have no word for us from my husband, 
 I suppose," Mrs. Towmley asked of Mr. Carver. 
 
 " No, I had a letter from Mr. Odell to-day, but 
 as yet he has heard nothing. The blockade he 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 89 
 
 says is improving and very little gets through, 
 even in the w^ay of nev^s. He looks for some 
 attempt, before long, to break it, — some regular 
 attempt. It that case we shall be able not only 
 to get word of him to you, but to take you safely 
 through to him." 
 
 Winthrop was looking across the table at 
 Martin. He had noted his gravity, his silence ; 
 now he saw that he had eaten nothing. " Is 
 something wrong ? " he asked. 
 
 Martin glanced up at him in astonishment, and 
 then swiftly around the table, looking from one 
 face to another. 
 
 " Can it be possible that you haven't heard the 
 news ? " he said. 
 
 " The news ? " demanded his father. Then 
 quickly, " Yes, we've heard it, of course." 
 
 Martin looked at him keenly. " The news of 
 yesterday's battle ? " he asked slowly. 
 
 His mother laid her hand on his reprovingly. 
 " Yes, yes, dear." She gave him a meaning look 
 and moved her head slightly toward Mrs. Town- 
 ley. 
 
 " No," cried Martin. " I'm sure you haven't. 
 I don't mean the report in this morning's papers. 
 That was a mistake." 
 
 " Tell us, quick," said Winthrop, hoarsely. 
 And Mrs. Townley's eyes made the same appeal. 
 
 " Our troops were winning during the after- 
 
90 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 noon. So far the papers were right. But John- 
 ston's army had escaped from Patterson, and it 
 came on the field about five in the afternoon. 
 The}^ took our men in flank. There was a panic 
 and — it isn't over yet. Tlie army's destroyed. 
 They lost about two thousand men killed. 
 The rest have melted away. They are coming 
 across the Potomac bridge into Washington in 
 droves." 
 
 Winthrop covered his face with his hands. 
 " My God ! " he groaned. The two women, to 
 whom the news had such different import, took 
 it alike, both very pale and breathing a little 
 quickly, but making no other sign. 
 
 The expression on the old man's face was 
 complex, inscrutable, until he looked across at 
 Winthrop's lowered head, when there came, 
 clear to see, the light of anger in it. 
 
 "It's nothing to cry about," he said sharply, 
 brutally. " It's good news to one who under- 
 stands it. The two thousand have saved the 
 lives of a great many thousands more. The 
 abolitionists have had enough. They have 
 learned their lesson. It's well they learned it 
 so soon. This will be the end." 
 
 At his first words Winthrop looked up, his 
 whole face ablaze. None of the Carvers were 
 of the sort to turn pale and speak soft with 
 anger. Their rages were of the more primitive 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 91 
 
 sort that set their hearts to pounding and gave 
 their voices the timbre of trumpets. 
 
 Yet as the lad — for he was little more — 
 faced his father the color died out of his face 
 and left him white. His hands shook and he 
 clutched tightly the edge of the table to steady 
 them. He w^as no more a cow^ard than Captain 
 Dearborn, w^ho had shrunk and shuffled in the 
 old man's office that morning. He had reached 
 the point of mutiny. 
 
 " We have learned our lesson," he said very 
 slowly, his lips trembling so that he could hardly 
 speak at all. " But this is just the beginning. 
 The end will not come until the end of slavery 
 comes. If it takes every life we've got, it will 
 not end till then. We are called to answer for 
 our crimes against our brothers." 
 
 "Remember our guests, whatever you are," 
 thundered the old man. 
 
 " Remember yourself." The words came 
 faster and there was a passionate gesture to 
 drive them home. " What you have said is 
 treason. And if you meant what you said, you 
 are a traitor." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 There was a long moment of silence ; then, 
 with all their eyes on him, Winthrop thrust 
 back his cliair, rose not very steadily, and w^ent 
 out of the room. Even after he disappeared the 
 others were turned toward the empty doorway ; 
 a feeling quite as strong in Martin and his 
 mother as in Mrs. Townley kept them from 
 looking at the old man. 
 
 John Carver's first emotion, after Winthrop's 
 outburst, had been clear astonishment, for the 
 boy's admirable self-control hitherto had misled 
 him ; but that was gone in an instant, and before 
 Winthrop had finished speaking a wave of un- 
 controlled anger succeeded it. Then had come 
 the moment of silence before his rage could find 
 an outlet in w^ords. 
 
 Two such passions in one day are more than 
 most men of sixt^^-five can safely subject them- 
 selves to. John Carver, from boyhood to his 
 later forties, had led an unusually active life, 
 from then on a completely sedentary one, and 
 such a change is not to be made with impunity. 
 He had had no warning of the danger, though a 
 physician might have noted that the coarse red 
 
 92 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 93 
 
 which had come in his cheeks during these late 
 years was not the flush of health his friends 
 mistook it for, and would no doubt have advised 
 him against extremes both of exertion and ex- 
 citement. 
 
 He had moved back his own chair a little, as 
 if he meant to follow^ Winthrop out of the room, 
 the words which for a moment had been denied 
 him were on his lips — and then the blow was 
 struck. 
 
 His face w^ent purplish white, the sweat beaded 
 out on it, then came a look of terror in his eyes. 
 With a groan he clapped his hands to his heart 
 and bent forward over the table. 
 
 Mrs. Carver was at his side in an instant, try- 
 ing in vain to discover what had happened. 
 Martin was scarcely behind her, and after a mo- 
 ment he gathered the old man up in his great 
 arms and carried him to a sofa in the parlor, 
 which was on the same floor. Then he ran around 
 to the stable and set the coachman clattering off 
 on the bare back of one of the carriage horses 
 to find a doctor. He shut the stable door after 
 him and went back and stood w^ith his mother 
 over the writhing figure on the sofa. 
 
 There was very little they could do, for they 
 knew nothing of the nature of his malady and 
 dared not give him the brandy he moaned for. 
 Rather because inaction w^as so terrible, than in 
 
94 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 any hope that it would do good, they began put- 
 ting hot cloths on his chest. 
 
 Tlie paroxysms of pain did not abate at all at 
 first, but dreadful as they were to see, they were 
 not as dreadful as the old man's terror. 
 
 He had faced death many times and in many 
 visages, coolly, almost contemptuously. He had 
 worked his ship inch by inch off a perilous lee 
 shore when every sheet and brace, every stick 
 and spar, had the weight of all their lives hang- 
 ing upon it. He would, it is likely, have faced 
 the certainty of that death as steadily as he 
 faced what was so little less. But this new 
 enemy, who laid an invisible hand upon his 
 heart and tore at it, unmanned him. 
 
 Gradually the grip relaxed. When the doctor 
 came it was quite gone. Martin slipped out 
 while he made his examination, and lay in wait 
 for him on the front steps. He was not a great 
 while coming. 
 
 " Oh, here you are," he said, perceiving Martin. 
 " Get into my carriage, can't you ? And come 
 along with me a little. I want to talk to you. 
 
 " It must be three years since I've seen you," 
 he went on. " I'd an idea lately that your 
 brother Winthrop was growing to look like you, 
 but I see I'm mistaken. You're like your father, 
 though, in some ways." 
 
 "I wanted to ask you about him," Martin began. 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 95 
 
 " Y^es, yes," the doctor interrupted. << We'll 
 get around to him directly. You've not enlisted 
 yet, I see. Were you planning to go ? " 
 
 " After to-day's news I thought I would," said 
 Martin. " I meant to speak to father about it 
 this afternoon." 
 
 " Y'ou w^on't do that, of course. And I advise 
 you to wait a little longer, anyway." 
 
 There was a long pause, and then the doctor 
 spoke again. 
 
 " There's no doubt at all about the nature of 
 your father's attack. It was what we call angina 
 jpectoris. It's a heart affection. There's usually 
 some organic lesion of the heart at the bottom 
 of it. In a day or two when everything's quieted 
 down, I'll make a thorough examination and see 
 if I can find what it is. But that's not the point. 
 When a man has had such a seizure as this he's 
 likely to have another, and eventually to have 
 one that will prove fatal. 
 
 "The organic lesion, if there is one, may not 
 trouble him for years, but this angina may strike 
 again at any moment. Excitement is more likely 
 than anything else to bring it on in his case. 
 From now on any violent passion is likely to 
 kill him. I shall tell him so myself, but that 
 won't do much good, or I've been mistaken about 
 John Carver all these years. These are exciting 
 times, and he takes things hard. You and your 
 
96 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 mother must do wliat you can to keep him quiet. 
 It's literally true that his life depends on it." 
 
 The carriage pulled up at a house where the 
 doctor was to make a visit. The doctor gave 
 Martin a prescription, told him where to have it 
 filled, and was about to go into the house. '' Til 
 tell 3"ou, though," he said, •' I've taken you a 
 long way from home. My man can drive you 
 back while I'm in here." 
 
 " If there's no hurry Til walk, I think," said 
 Martin. 
 
 "That's better," said the doctor. ^' And I'll 
 give you one piece of advice for yourself. If you 
 quit the sea, as your father did, don't quit ex- 
 ercising. When a man has developed big lungs 
 and a strong heart, he has either got to give 
 them something to do or they'll play the mis- 
 chief with him. That's all." 
 
 On his way back to the house it occurred to 
 Martin for the first time to wonder what had 
 become of Winthrop, — where he had gone after 
 his sudden exit from the dining room. The law- 
 yers office where he was studying was not far 
 out of his way, and quickening his pace to make 
 up for the delay he went around there. They 
 told him Winthrop had not yet come back from 
 lunch. There was no time to look farther, indeed 
 there was nowhere else to look, so Martin hurried 
 on home. 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 97 
 
 He found his father sitting up in a big easy- 
 chair, stubbornly declaring his intention to go 
 back to his office that afternoon, and fretting 
 against his wife's protests that he must keep 
 quiet and ought to keep to his bed for several days. 
 
 He seemed to have aged ten years since morn- 
 ing. He was haggard from pain, weak, nervous, 
 altogether out of tune. Martin was disposed at 
 first to side with his mother, but presently he 
 changed his mind about it. For some reason 
 their resistance seemed to excite the old gentle- 
 man greatl}^ That was due, probably, to some 
 dregs of the terror he had felt during the seizure. 
 He was protesting that it had meant nothing — 
 protesting too much — to restore his courage. 
 At all events he must not excite himself any 
 further. 
 
 " If you can walk as far as the carriage, I 
 don't see why you shouldn't go," Martin said at 
 last. "There's an easy-chair in your office and 
 a sofa. I'd go with you, of course, but then I 
 don't see why you should go, either." 
 
 " It's not necessary that you should see," said 
 his father, curtly. 
 
 Martin submitted. " Shall I send for the car- 
 riage, sir ? " he asked. 
 
 More than once as they drove down town 
 Martin regretted that he had not kept his father 
 safe within doors. The excitement in the streets 
 
98 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 that afternoon was intense. The revulsion from 
 rejoicing over yesterday's victory to deploring 
 yesterday's disaster manifested itself on every 
 corner ; you could not look this way or that 
 without seeing something that recalled the very 
 things that John Carver must be prevented from 
 thinking about at all. But though the old man's 
 silence gave Martin no clew to his thoughts, he 
 seemed quite unaware of the excitement that 
 was throbbing all about him. When they 
 reached the office, he walked so much more 
 steadily than before that it appeared that his 
 ride had done him good. 
 
 Patrick Odell's letter was still lying on the 
 desk, and John handed it to his son. " Read it," 
 he said. Then, " Read it aloud. It will bear a 
 second hearing." 
 
 When Martin reached Odell's expression of 
 the hope that none of the White C ships was 
 within the range of the Sumte7''^s activities, his 
 father interrupted him. 
 
 " We've lost the Centaur,'^^ he said. " Semmes 
 took her a month ago. Dearborn reported this 
 morning." 
 
 " Lost her!" cried Martin, incredulously. "Lost 
 the Centaur f " 
 
 "Yes, yes," his father answered impatiently. 
 " There's no use whimpering over it. It can't 
 be helped." 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 99 
 
 For the first time in Martin's life occurred to 
 his mind the possibility that the fortune his 
 father had been building year by year, the for- 
 tune which had been so amply founded during 
 his own boyhood, which he had seen growing 
 so steadily since, might now, at the end, come 
 tumbling about the ears of the already broken 
 man who had given his life to it. He sat 
 thoughtfully silent over the idea until his 
 father's voice recalled him. 
 
 " Well, well, read on. You've only begun." 
 
 For a little way Martin read lifelessly, but 
 before long the easily apparent drift of Odell's 
 speculations about the blockade of the Southern 
 ports caught him. 
 
 " < The trick is to get the man.' " It was here 
 that Captain Dearborn's entrance had interrupted 
 his father's reading. " ^ Whether he is the right 
 man or not would make all the difference be- 
 tween a great profit and a great loss. I said a 
 bold man. Such, of course, may be found on 
 every four corners. But there needs a particular 
 blend of caution with recklessness for this busi- 
 ness which is rare at best. Add to this that 
 your man must have a particular and minute 
 knowledge of all that difficult coast from St. 
 Mary's to Hatteras and you reduce the number 
 still further. Indeed, mv doubt as to whether it 
 is possible at all to secure any man fit to con- 
 
100 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 duct the enterprise, is tlie only question T enter- 
 tain as to its entire feasibility. Will you turn 
 the matter over in your mind, and if any man 
 occurs to you, take care not to forget him ? I 
 don't ask you to write me, because I expect to 
 sail for New York in a week or two myself, on 
 some other business. Then we can talk it over 
 in detail. 
 
 *' < Has your son, Captain Martin, put to sea 
 again? If not, I should like to get his judgment 
 on the matter. He might know of some one 
 exactly to our purpose.' " 
 
 Then, with remembrances and a number of 
 "and so forths," the letter ended. Martin had 
 hardly laid it down when there came a knock at 
 the office door. A fancy that he had recognized 
 the step as it approached made him spring 
 to the door in time to prevent his father's sum- 
 mons to come in. 
 
 He opened the door cautiously. He had 
 guessed right. It was Winthrop. There w^as 
 no time for half measures, so he crowded out 
 through as narrow an opening as possible and 
 shut the door after him. 
 
 " You here ? " said Winthrop. 
 
 " Come in, both of you," fretted the old man. 
 " What are you palavering about ? Come in." 
 Winthrop obeyed promptly, and Martin followed 
 him. 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 101 
 
 He had no time to explain, even to give a hint 
 of the situation, and now he v^as pov^erless, for 
 even if he had possessed a knack for pantomime, 
 which he conspicuously lacked, he was equally 
 with Winthrop under his father's eye. He could 
 do nothing but look on at this scene, and he fell 
 back a pace or two. 
 
 Winthrop's face and bearing were not very 
 reassuring, but Martin almost lost his fears in 
 his admiration. A detailed description of this 
 youngest son's features, except the eyes, would 
 have done very well for any of his three brothers 
 as they had been at his age, but in him alone 
 of the four was the ruggedness of the father's 
 frame veiled, softened by the mother's beauty. 
 Again, except for his eyes, it was a number of 
 minute differences, a more delicate chiselling 
 about the nostrils, a mitigation of the character- 
 istic lower jaw, a finer texture of the skin, that 
 set him apart from the rest of them. It was 
 by no means a weak face, but his father, misled 
 as others were sometimes, by the comparison 
 with Martin and the memory of John and Perry, 
 thought it was. 
 
 His beauty had never been so striking as it 
 was to-day. He was paler than usual and his 
 black eyes were brighter ; too bright indeed and 
 restless, though he was holding them pretty 
 steadily on his father. 
 
102 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 The old man returned his look for a moment, 
 then swung round in liis chair toward the desk. 
 " Well, well," he demanded, " have you some- 
 thing to say ? 
 
 « I came back, sir, to tell you that I've enlisted 
 in the navy." He said it simply, not at all de- 
 fiantl3% but there was a fine, clear, martial tone 
 about it, none the less. 
 
 Martin held his breath while he w^atched his 
 father during those next few seconds. As to 
 his thoughts, he was actively calculating, from 
 his father's position, which way he would be 
 most likely to fall when the explosion of wrath 
 that must be coming brought back the heart 
 paroxysm with it. 
 
 But the explosion did not come ; there was 
 nothing left to explode. John Carver had ex- 
 hausted, for that day, his capacity for anger. He 
 drummed on his desk in an irritated sort of way. 
 " I'm not surprised," was all he said. 
 
 Winthrop, too, had expected an explosion, had 
 steeled himself against it, and the petulant non- 
 resistance of the reply disturbed his balance sadly. 
 
 " I know that goes against your wishes," he 
 rejoined. 
 
 " The less said about that the better," grumbled 
 his father. But Winthrop went on, his words 
 coming quicker and hotter as he proceeded : — 
 
 " Your opinion and mine differ at almost every 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 103 
 
 point. I've been deferring to yours all my life. 
 I suppose I should go on doing so if it were sim- 
 ply a question between you and me. I've not 
 forgotten that you're my father, and I know how 
 much I owe you, but — " 
 
 Martin did not dare to let it go further. 
 " That's all right, Winthrop — " he began. 
 
 Winthrop's face kindled, and the muscles in it 
 twitched as if in a spasm of pain. So this w^as 
 where Martin stood ! This was Martin's loyalty ! 
 
 u I've got this much more to say," he cried, 
 " and I'll say it to you or to anybody, — that 
 every man who could strike a blow for his coun- 
 try, now when she calls to him, and who holds his 
 hand is as much of a traitor and less of a man 
 than the one who strikes straight at her life. 
 I'm going out to the receiving ship to-night. 
 Good-by to both of you." 
 
 He ended with something very like a sob, and 
 strode out of the room. Martin followed him. 
 Winthrop heard, but only quickened his pace, 
 and Martin did not overtake him until they 
 reached the street door. Then, taking him by 
 the shoulders, he turned him round. 
 
 Winthrop would have wrenched himself away, 
 but the quiet, commanding power of the great 
 hands on his shoulders and of the steady gray 
 eyes fixed on his own, which were blurred with 
 tears of anger and excitement, denied resistance. 
 
104 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 «' Wintlirop, old man, you don't understand,'' 
 he began. 
 
 And then again from the inner room came 
 tlic old man's voice, fretful, peremj^tory. " Mar- 
 tin ! Come back in here, will you ? " 
 
 " I must go," said Martin, quietly. " Ask 
 mother to tell you what has happened. Good- 
 by." 
 
 Winthrop yielded him his hand, but there was 
 no response in it to Martin's pressure. He went 
 his way, and the elder brother, very thoughtful, 
 answered his father's call. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 The obvious resemblances and the equally 
 obvious differences between Martin and Win- 
 throp invited comparisons, and, with the excep- 
 tion of their mother, who was the only person 
 who really understood them both, every one 
 from the most casual acquaintances to their 
 own father, indulged this tendency to set one 
 up against the other and strike some sort of 
 balance between them. 
 
 Mrs. Townley had reasons of her own for 
 making a comparison, and she was not long in 
 reaching the conclusion that Winthrop, with his 
 patrician face, his gayety, his tact, the suggestion 
 of a reckless, devil-may-care defiance in his man- 
 ner — a rather formidable total — was much 
 more likely than his sober elder brother to dis- 
 turb the peace of mind of a not unimpression- 
 able and very much unoccupied young girl. She 
 had not completed her first day in New York 
 before she decided that it was fortunate that 
 Martin was the one about to enjoy the leisure 
 of a vacation while Winthrop must go on with 
 his law books and the routine of an attorney's 
 clerk. 
 
 105 
 
106 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 That consolation did not last long. Mr. Carver 
 could hardly let Martin out of his sight. They 
 spent whole days together at the counting-house; 
 they lunched, they drove, they dined together ; 
 and the 3'oung captain was led about the whole 
 circle of the old captain's friends, offered for 
 approval and duly approved. Meanwhile the 
 one unoccupied person in the family, in spite of 
 the irksomeness of his legal researches, appeared 
 to be Winthrop, and it was not long before ap- 
 pearances justified the mother in feeling uneasy. 
 Celia's behavior was rather baffling. She took 
 Winthrop's outspoken admiration very easily, 
 and to her mother she often expressed her sym- 
 pathy for him more frankly than she would have 
 been likely to do had there been any deeper 
 feeling underlying it. But there was no deny- 
 ing that she often seemed uneasy, sometimes 
 unhappy, and in many little ways unlike 
 herself. 
 
 One evening, a month, perhaps, after their 
 arrival in New York, her mother found her in 
 tears for which she would give no explanation 
 but on which the events of the day seemed to 
 supply a commentary. The Corona had just come 
 in from a long voyage, — her last, as it proved, — 
 and as she was the newest and largest ship in 
 the fleet, at Mrs. Carver's suggestion, Celia and 
 her mother, escorted by Winthrop, and, for a 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 107 
 
 wonder, by Martin, too, had that day gone down 
 to pay her a visit. 
 
 Noting the purposeful way in which Winthrop 
 set about getting Celia away from the others and 
 his evident intention to have her all to himself, 
 Mrs. Townley took a hand in the manoeuvre, and 
 as her hand in such matters was a light but a very 
 sure one, " poor Mr. Winthrop " met a sad tacti- 
 cal reverse. He accompanied the elder woman 
 all over the ship, not quite able to see how 
 it had come about that it w^as impossible to 
 do anything else but perfectly aware who was 
 responsible for it. 
 
 On their starting for home Martin had pleaded 
 an engagement with his father, and Mrs. Town- 
 ley drove back in the carriage, with two very 
 silent, and, to her mind, rather sullen, young 
 people. And then, that night, the tears ! One 
 cannot wonder that having taken the wrong clew 
 to start with she was led far astray. 
 
 When Mrs. Townley carried Winthrop off that 
 afternoon, Celia guessed for the first time the 
 existence and the nature of her mother's suspi- 
 cions, and she smiled over the absurdity of them. 
 Winthrop was a very nice boy, and she liked 
 him, of course ; everj^body did. If she had been 
 a good deal younger, she supposed she might have 
 fallen in love with him — a little. But to im- 
 agine that she was taking his attentions seriously 
 
108 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 was every bit as absurd as to tliink he meant 
 (hem so. They understood each other perfectly. 
 
 The smile lingered in her eyes until Mrs. 
 Tovvnley and her involuntary escort disappeared. 
 Then with a comprehensive little gesture she 
 turned toward Martin. 
 
 " Now show me everything," she said. 
 
 They had seen very little of each other, except 
 in compan}^ with the rest of the family, since 
 coming to New York, and the few occasions when 
 they had been alone had not been very satis- 
 factor}^ The memory of certain days on the 
 Southern Cross embarrassed them both, and be- 
 sides that Celia had easily guessed that from the 
 first Martin w^as laboring in the same error in 
 which she had just discovered her mother. That 
 was aw^kw^ard, of course, and unfortunate, but 
 Celia could think of nothing she could do to 
 help it. 
 
 But to-day, on the Corona^ everything was in 
 their favor. The familiar sights about the ship 
 awakened the memory of the old intimacy which 
 had grown up betw^een them during their long 
 days on the Southern Cross^ and unconsciously 
 they acknowledged it. 
 
 They had the place quite to themselves, for 
 the ship's cargo w^as discharged, her crew paid 
 off, and except for the old watchman who was 
 showing Mrs. Townley and Winthrop about she 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 109 
 
 was deserted. So, according to Celia's demand, 
 Martin took her everywhere ; that is, wherever 
 her " crinoline " would permit her to go, and 
 into some places where, at first glance, it would 
 not permit. By a little engineering they got 
 down into the forecastle. 
 
 " And do you mean to say," she demanded, 
 " that you make the whole crew sleep down 
 here ? " 
 
 " When they're lucky enough to have time to 
 sleep at all," he answered. " And I'll tell you 
 that every sailor who ever signed for a voyage 
 on this ship blessed his luck when he brought 
 his chest down here and took a look around. If 
 I had seen a forecastle like this when I was ship- 
 ping before the mast, I'd have thought I'd got 
 into passengers' quarters by mistake. That 
 wasn't in our line, the White C, you know. 
 The holes we used to sleep in were enough — " 
 
 "You!" she cried. Then after a little pause, 
 and very seriously, she said, " I knew of course 
 that you'd been a sailor, but I never realized — 
 Won't you tell me about it ? You've told me so 
 little." 
 
 " You'd better come up on deck first. I don't 
 believe you find it very pleasant down here." 
 
 " No, I shall stay right here. It will sound 
 truer than it would on deck. Up there it would 
 be like reading it in a book, but in this place — " 
 
110 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 She seated herself, rather gingerly it is true, 
 on the edge of a bunk. " Now begin," she said. 
 
 Following a very just instinct Martin told her 
 none of the wonders of liis voyages, none of the 
 wild, true tales which have made sailors' yarns 
 a byword for extravagance, but the little com- 
 monplaces which went to make up the day's 
 work, — the grub, the hazing, the petty tyrannies, 
 the childish amusements, the long expectation 
 of liberty day ashore and the inevitable disap- 
 pointment it ahvays proved to be when it came. 
 
 He made rather light of it all at first, but 
 soon fell in with her mood, which was sober. 
 After he had finished she sat silent awhile, and 
 it was not until he again suggested that they go 
 back on deck that she spoke. 
 
 " But all the wdiile you knew who you were," 
 she said. " And you knew why you w^ere down 
 here. You let them do all those things to you 
 because you chose." 
 
 " Not exactly. Oh, I knew of course — with 
 my head, but you often forget what you know 
 that way. I got so that I didn't know it with 
 my feelings. That comes back over me some- 
 times. It has down here to-day — perhaps from 
 talking about it. I feel as if I hadn't any 
 right to be talking to you." 
 
 " Let's go back on deck," she said, without 
 the laugh he expected. 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 111 
 
 When they had engineered their way out into 
 the air again, she led the way aft to the quarter- 
 deck. Then she smiled, a rather sober little 
 smile, and asked, " You're not afraid of me now, 
 are you — Captain ? " 
 
 His thoughts seemed a long way off and she, 
 guessing them or merely giving play to her own, 
 began talking to him as if they were out at sea, 
 asking how many knots they had logged that 
 day, if he thought there was a storm coming up, 
 and when he was going to wear ship again. 
 
 " I shall never get over that," he said, point- 
 ing forward. " I'm just a sailor, and I ought 
 never to come ashore." Then, with a vehe- 
 mence that startled her, " Ah, how I'd like to 
 take this craft out again, or the old Cross 
 yonder, — take her around the Horn ! " 
 
 Winthrop and Mrs. Townley had come on 
 deck, but they were lingering, still out of earshot. 
 
 " I could do that," Martin went on. "I can 
 command a ship. Perhaps I ought to be con- 
 tent with that. But I'd like to know a few of 
 the things that Winthrop there knows so well. 
 We make fun of a landlubber at sea, but he's 
 nothing to a sealubber ashore." 
 
 " When did you begin to get such ideas as 
 that ? " she demanded. " You know they aren't 
 true." 
 
 Winthrop and Mrs. Townley were coming 
 
112 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 aft now. Martin turned away from them and 
 toward Celia with a liule gesture of impatience. 
 
 " Oh, you're very kind to me — " 
 
 "Kind," she interrtipted indignantly. "I'm 
 not kind to anybody." 
 
 " I don't believe," said Mrs. Townley, " that 
 you've seen as much of her as we did, though 
 you did have Captain Carver to show you about." 
 
 As to why Celia cried that night she could 
 not explain to herself, let alone to her mother. 
 Only things did go perversely sometimes and 
 everybody w^as stupid. 
 
 The twenty-second of July, the day of the 
 false news of Bull Run and then the true news, 
 the day that Captain Dearborn reported the 
 loss of the Centaur^ that Winthrop mutinied 
 and old John Carver nearly died in one of his 
 rages, had not quite emptied the Pandora's box 
 of sensations it had brought. 
 
 About five o'clock in the afternoon, Mrs. 
 Townley, coming into Celia's room, roused her 
 from an uneasy sleep. 
 
 " I'm sorry to w^ake you, dear," she said. " A 
 real nap would have done you good." 
 
 " I don't believe I was asleep," the girl an- 
 nounced wearily. 
 
 Her mother sat down beside her on the bed, 
 stroked her dishevelled hair, and kissed her wet 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 113 
 
 eyelids. " I hope there won't be man}' such 
 days until we get back home," she said. " This 
 has been too hard for you." 
 
 " No harder than for you, Mummy. You're 
 braver than I am." 
 
 " Older, Celia, that's all." 
 
 Indeed, to one who looked closely, Mrs. Town- 
 ley showed the marks of that day no less plainly 
 than her daughter. Both were exhausted. 
 
 " I've a message for you," the mother went on. 
 "Mrs. Carver asked me if Winthrop might see 
 you. He's waiting in the library." 
 
 " I cannot see him, of course. Look at me. 
 My eyes won't be fit to be seen for days." 
 
 " I'd go down, dear, if I could." 
 
 Her mother was looking at her searchingly, 
 and her gaze brought an anguish of quick alarm 
 into the girl's face. " Oh, has something dread- 
 ful happened, — something else ? What — why 
 don't you tell me, mother ? " 
 
 She was already off the bed and with trem- 
 bling fingers was trjdng to fasten her dress and 
 rearrange her tumbled hair. Her mother helped 
 her silently. 
 
 When it was finished, Celia kissed her fore- 
 head, and again the look, wistful, troubled, 
 questioning, arrested her. " You do know," she 
 cried, but Mrs. Townley shook her head, and 
 Celia, after waiting a moment for some other 
 
114 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 answer, turned and went slowl}^ down the stairs 
 to tlie library. 
 
 He was standing, as once before she had seen 
 him, in tlie recessed window, and, curiously, 
 again the first thought which ahnost had time to 
 reach full consciousness, was of Martin. 
 
 He was alert for her coining this time, and 
 turning quickly, thrust out his hands toward 
 her. The gesture, too, made her think of the 
 elder brother. 
 
 " Celia," he said. 
 
 He had called her that once before, but then 
 with a playful impudence which had so patently 
 invited a rebuke that she had laughed — and not 
 rebuked him. 
 
 But to-day there was a note in his voice which 
 was not to be mistaken. 
 
 " What is it ? " she said. " What has hap- 
 pened ? " 
 
 " What has happened ? You know, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " About the battle, yes, and that your father 
 has been very ill." 
 
 " Mother told me of that only half an hour 
 ago. Did you know that it was a quarrel with 
 me that brought on the attack ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " And you know what w^e quarrelled about ? " 
 
 She hesitated. '' Not exactly," she said. 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 115 
 
 " Then I want to tell you that — first." 
 
 He noted how white and forlorn she looked, so 
 he insisted on making her comfortable in a big 
 chair before he went on. Then he spoke quickly 
 but very moderately. 
 
 " I'm what you call — what I call, too — I'm 
 an abolitionist. Father guessed it long ago — 
 though we have never come to words over the 
 question, and he has — despised me for it. To- 
 day, when he said that we had had our lesson, 
 and that yesterday's defeat would be the end, I 
 told him that there would never be an end, 
 never until the slaves were free or we were all 
 dead. And I told him he was a traitor." 
 
 There was a long silence. She made no com- 
 ment whatever but by a look of troubled per- 
 plexity in her white face. 
 
 " You know why I had to tell you this — 
 first, don't you, Celia ? It might make a differ- 
 ence, perhaps a great difference, but there can be 
 no false pretence of any kind between us now." 
 
 The question deepened in her face, and she 
 looked at him steadily. 
 
 " I enlisted to-day. I have only this hour left, 
 so I must tell you, now. Don't you know what 
 I have to tell ? Don't you guess, Celia, — sweet- 
 heart ? " 
 
 With a sharp intaking of the breath, she half 
 rose, than sank back limply in her chair. He 
 
116 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 stood before her — lie would have knelt but for 
 the look in her face. 
 
 " Haven't you known before ? Haven't you 
 seen?" he demanded. "I've been trying to 
 show you. I thought you understood." 
 
 " There has been a mistake," she said labo- 
 riousl}^ " I ought to have seen. I see now. I 
 am very much to blame." 
 
 *' But all these days — surely they meant some- 
 thing. You must have meant — " 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " I wish I — " 
 
 The gust spent itself before she finished the 
 sentence. Then she said very gently : — 
 
 "Mother saw. At least, she thought it was 
 the other way — that I was — falling in love 
 with you." There came a faint flush into her 
 cheeks, but she went on, " And Captain Carver 
 seemed to think that, too." 
 
 He was badly hurt, and he cried out : — 
 
 " So you w^ere just amusing yourself and laugh- 
 ing at all of us," he said. 
 
 " You have a right to say that. I am almost 
 as much to blame as if it were true. But it 
 isn't. Other men have — have been nice to me 
 the way you have. They've said the same kind 
 of things and never — never meant anything at 
 all, and I understood. I thought you were just 
 the same." 
 
 She paused there for a moment, and w^hen she 
 
MONDAY, JULY TWENTY-SECOND 117 
 
 went on it was with an obviously greater 
 effort. 
 
 " Perhaps I might have seen that you were — 
 different, if I'd tried to see. But I wanted it to 
 be that way, so I was sure it was. It was so 
 pleasant to be with you, and I liked you better 
 than — than almost any one else." 
 
 " Almost ? " 
 
 The color came flaming into her cheeks now, 
 but she kept looking steadily into his eyes. 
 " Yes — almost," she said. 
 
 He looked back into hers searchingly for a 
 moment, then turned away. When he spoke 
 again it was only to say, with a boyish, pitiful 
 attempt to hide his hurts : — 
 
 " I must be going on. Will you say good-by 
 for me to your mother ? " 
 
 " I haven't any right to ask you to forgive 
 me," she said. " Perhaps you will sometime, 
 though I was so much to blame, and — good-by." 
 
PAET III 
 
 THE BLOCKADE 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 To an interested but disinterested spectator, 
 to an Englishman, for instance, with a leaning 
 towards economics, to Mr. Patrick Odell, let us 
 say, cotton seemed to include everything in the 
 situation. Cotton was responsible for the recru- 
 descence of the question of slavery. Cotton had 
 made the South rich, aristocratic, provincial, and, 
 it must be said, lazy, contemptuous of the grub- 
 bing mercantile North, yet indolently willing to 
 look North for all the necessaries, luxuries, ex- 
 travagances, which cotton found it so easy to buy. 
 Cotton was food, drink, fine apparel, implements 
 of peace, sinews of war. Cotton was king. 
 
 And so, clearl}', if it should be possible to dis- 
 enchant cotton, to rob it of its alchemy, to pre- 
 vent its transformation into cannon and sabres, 
 into rations and blankets, to hold it yellowing 
 in the bale along deserted wharves, its own help- 
 less, useless self, — if they could hold the South 
 in such a grip as that would be, they could, in 
 time, wring all resistance out of the stoutest 
 hearts that ever beat. But to do this they must 
 stretch a barrier round three thousand miles of 
 coast, a barrier which every commercial instinct, 
 
 121 
 
122 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 the world over, would be trying to break. Wave 
 and tempest and the exliaustion of ceaseless 
 watching would make it easy to break. 
 
 It was perfectly easy to demonstrate that such 
 a feat was impossible. Whenever the wind blew 
 high from the northeast, for instance, the ships 
 composing that barrier must steam far out to 
 sea. Who could imagine that any craft how- 
 ever stanch, however stanch the hearts that 
 manned her, could ride out a North Atlantic 
 gale along that battered coast, at anchor ! Well, 
 impossible or not, it was evident that the North 
 meant to try it. The Friday after the fall of 
 Sumter, the day the Sixth Massachusetts marched 
 through Baltimore, the President proclaimed the 
 blockade. 
 
 It was not wonderful that Europe, England, 
 Mr. Patrick Odell, looked suspiciously at the 
 proclamation. Since the Napoleonic wars, that 
 sort of licensed piracy known as the paper block- 
 ade had been discountenanced. In 1861, accord- 
 ing to the code of nations a blockade to be 
 binding must be effective. Before you could for- 
 bid a neutral to hold commerce with a hostile 
 port, before you had a right to arrest and search 
 a neutral on the high seas and carry him off as 
 prize if circumstances seemed to warrant it, you 
 must have, constantl}^, men-of-war enough about 
 the mouth of the blockaded port to keep the 
 
THE BLOCKADE 123 
 
 neutral out, or at least to make his getting in 
 " evidently dangerous." 
 
 And the fleet ? On the day Abraham Lincoln 
 was inaugurated, the second-class screw sloop 
 Pawnee lay in the Potomac, and the third-class 
 steamers Mohawh and Crusader were at New 
 York. That was all. There was not another 
 steam vessel of the United States navy in 
 commission and in a home port ! 
 
 But, by the last of April, 1861, the greater 
 part, seven-eighths probabl}^, of the cotton crop of 
 the fall of 1860 was already out of the country 
 and the paltry remainder gave little incentive for 
 trying to break the tenuous line of cruisers which 
 had been flung about the seceded states. There 
 were a few months during that summer when 
 the South could laugh and England observe 
 with amazement that the bragging Yankees were 
 really the dupes of their own tall talk, that they 
 veritably believed that this preposterous blockade 
 of theirs was going to be an actuality. Well, 
 they might enjoy their delusion a little longer. 
 Cotton was not yet ready. When it was, it 
 would take its way through its accustomed chan- 
 nels, and the paper blockade would cease to be 
 even in appearance. 
 
 During these summer months was worked a 
 transformation. Few saw it, to be sure, for Big 
 Bethel, Bull Run, Ball's Bluff, the blunders, the 
 
124 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 disappointments, all loomed so large that the 
 really significant march of events was hard to trace. 
 But the march went on. Slowly the forces were 
 gathered up, slowly the grip tightened, the grip 
 which was never to slacken till it had made an end. 
 
 England watched, neutral but very alert ; the 
 South watched, defiant, contemptuous ; they saw 
 nothing. But w^hen the first of the crop of 1861 
 w^as ripe and picked and ginned, the long line of 
 cruisers was no longer imaginary. It held. 
 
 Not perfectly, of course. The South ceased 
 to laugh, and began protesting. " This thing 
 has passed a joke. There is no blockade. Don't 
 be abused by the lies they tell up North. The 
 cotton is waiting for you on every w^harf. Come 
 and get it." 
 
 Still the cotton lay on the wharves. It was 
 past a joke. From Manchester, Leeds, Birming- 
 ham, Liverpool, came the cry for cotton. The 
 mills must have it. The mills began to close. 
 Men were lounging in the streets, women grew 
 gaunt, and children wailed with hunger. 
 
 Men were still protesting that the blockade 
 was an outrage, that it was a mere pretence, 
 that there was no blockade. But there was in 
 plain sight of everybody a gauge, accurate, un- 
 disturbed by any heat of passion, — a dial face 
 with two hands, one indicating the price of 
 cotton in Liverpool, the other the price in 
 
THE BLOCKADE 125 
 
 Charleston, South Carolina. Every week, every 
 day, saw these two hands drawing farther apart. 
 The angle between them measured the efficiency 
 of the blockade. 
 
 It is the law of the wind, the lightning, the 
 rain, that nature abhors an inequality, and it is 
 no less a law of economics. The wider that 
 angle grew between those two needles on the 
 dial, the greater became the pressure which tried 
 to force them together. And as the angle 
 widened and the pressure increased, it began a 
 metamorphosis in men and things. It made 
 speculators, heroes, bankrupts, traitors, fanatics, 
 millionnaires, just as men happened to stand, just 
 according to the circumstances in which it found 
 them. Rich men, poor men, beggar men, be- 
 gan changing hands, changing places in a mad 
 reel, fantastic, yet all according to an unalterable 
 law. 
 
 All our friends had their places in the dance, 
 old John Carver and his wife, Martin, Mrs. 
 Townley, Celia, Mr. Patrick Odell ; there was no 
 escaping it. 
 
 The first sign had been Mr. OdelPs arrival in 
 New York. He was generally anywhere from a 
 minute to a month ahead of the rest of the 
 world in understanding a situation and spying 
 out his own path amid the maze. His letter to 
 John Carver showed that he had begun to take 
 
126 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 a reckoning. Before reacliing New York he had 
 his course all charted ; he knew every current, 
 every bit of shoal water. He was in New York 
 less than a month. When he left Martin accom- 
 panied him back to Liverpool, to London, and a 
 little later to the Clyde, where Odell had once 
 seen the steamer, the long, low, snake of a craft 
 which had so greatly interested him. 
 
 Three months later a new deal of the cards 
 brought them all together again in a place which 
 none but Martin and old John Carver had seen or 
 more than barely heard of before, the city of 
 Nassau, capital of the British colony, the Baha- 
 mas. It was a sleepy little place, with a lazy 
 trade in sponges, and a regretful memory of the 
 good old days before the devious waters of the 
 West Indian Archipelago had been lighted and 
 charted, and there had been a thriving trade 
 in wrecking. There was another, a better, time 
 just ahead, and the little city was soon to be 
 awakened by a veritable shower of gold heaped 
 in its lap by the same capricious, methodical 
 force which was starving the luckless spinners 
 of Leeds and Manchester. 
 
 It is an article in the International Code that 
 breach of blockade begins with the act of sail- 
 ing for a blockaded port. In any corner of the 
 world's high seas, a Federal cruiser, encounter- 
 ing a neutral merchantman, had a right to arrest 
 
THE BLOCKADE 127 
 
 her, and, if anything about her papers or her 
 cargo indicated that she was bound to or from a 
 blockaded port, to clap a prize crew aboard her 
 and send her to New York to be judged. If the 
 Admiralty Court then agreed in their opinion, 
 she was sold as prize, and captain and crew 
 went their way, richer in pocket and rejoicing 
 at heart, to catch another. One could be caught 
 with exactly as much legality off Fastnet Light 
 as off Frying Pan Shoals. 
 
 But if the merchantman was bound for a 
 neutral port, if her cargo was really consigned 
 to merchants in that port who had a right to get 
 it, then the case was altered, and though the 
 captain of the cruiser might be morally certain 
 that eventually her " heavy hardware " or her 
 blankets were destined for the Confederacy, still 
 he had no power to touch them. 
 
 A neutral port, therefore, not too far from the 
 blockaded coast became an essential in the great 
 game. There were three such, Havana, Ber- 
 muda, and Nassau, of which the last named, 
 lying just across the Gulf Stream from the 
 Florida coast, was the nearest and the best. 
 Using this port as a base, one could crowd all 
 the risk of the voyage from England into the last 
 five hundred miles of it. For five-sixths of the 
 way the merchandise and the cotton could be 
 carried openly, safely, cheaply. 
 
128 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 So the lazy, "basking little city of Nassau was 
 to become one of the important commercial cen- 
 tres of the world. Her hot, white streets would 
 soon be crowded with eager speculators, her dark, 
 damp little shops overflowing with buyers fling- 
 ing sovereigns about like halfpence, her harbor 
 thronged with masts and funnels. The secret of 
 the Midas touch was to be learned again. One 
 would only have to stretch out a hand and what 
 lay underneath would turn to gold. 
 
 In the harbor of this city, and a very good 
 harbor it was in those days, tugging lightly at 
 her cables as the tide ran lazily by, lay a side- 
 wheel steamer, a low, narrow, rakish-looking 
 vessel, the identical craft which had inspired so 
 great an enthusiasm in Mr. Odell when he saw 
 her slipping down the Clyde. What her name 
 had been in those days is of no importance. It 
 is just as well, perhaps, not to mention it. On 
 her arrival in Nassau, Mr. Odell had promptly 
 suggested rechristening her the Celia, but as 
 that young lady declined the honor, and in a 
 manner, by the way, which seemed to him un- 
 necessarily peremptory, they had hit upon the 
 Caroline as specially appropriate to the two ports 
 where she expected to trade. She sat even lower 
 in the water than on that first occasion, for now 
 she was loaded with all they dared put into her. 
 Deep in her hold, invoiced as hardware, was the 
 
THE BLOCKADE 129 
 
 veiy shipment of arms which the Southern Cross 
 had tried to cany into Wihnington. 
 
 Mr. Odell's enthusiasm for her had grown 
 greater with every day of the voyage down, and 
 now that he had old John Carver to share it 
 with him, it effervesced constantly. Mr. Carver's 
 went even to greater lengths than his own They 
 never tired of rowing around her in a little boat, 
 admiring her long, thin entrance, her feathering 
 paddles, the graceful turn of her counter. Then 
 they would clamber aboard, and admire the im- 
 proved oscillating cylinders to her engines and the 
 heaps of clean Pennsylvania anthracite in her 
 bunkers. 
 
 There was nothing systematic or necessary 
 about these dailv visits. The trim, fast little 
 craft was simply a new toy, and they could not 
 keep aw^ay from it. They recognized this them- 
 selves, and often acknowledged that the old man 
 of the party, the serious-minded, responsible head 
 of the enterprise, was Martin. 
 
 Indeed, he seemed to them to take the respon- 
 sibility too hard. He not only faced it, he seemed 
 unwilling to look, even for a moment, at any- 
 thing else. He was now in the hold, now in the 
 chart room, and when he went ashore it was 
 only to go straight to the agency in Bay Street, 
 to pick up whatever late intelligence might have 
 come in as to the conditions of the blockade, the 
 
 K 
 
130 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 lights, and batteries at Cape Fear or elsewhere. 
 He worked as hard as a man could, but it was 
 all up hill with him. He seemed to have lost his 
 spring. 
 
 " And he ought to be as gay as a lark, too," 
 said the old man, talking it over, as he had done 
 before with Mr. Odell. " He has got a bold 
 man's job to do, and a dashing craft to do it in." 
 
 They were standing on the high bridge amid- 
 ships, and Mr. Carver looked forward and then 
 aft as he spoke. " She's as pretty a thing in her 
 way as the old Cross was in hers," he went on. 
 " I don't know what to make of the boy. He's 
 as cold-blooded as a fish." 
 
 "It's just as well," the other answered, "that 
 what blood goes to his head, at least, shouldn't 
 be too hot. And from what I know of men, it's 
 just when a chap gets into his frame of mind 
 that nothing can stop him." 
 
 Upon the hill in a secluded corner, shaded by 
 the salient of the deserted Fort Fincastle, sat 
 Mrs. Townley and Celia. The lazy little city 
 with its pink and orange walls, its faded green 
 jalousies, its blazing white streets, was sleeping 
 soundly in the warm November sun. Only the 
 lightest of airs was stirring, but the remnant of 
 some storm a thousand miles away was spend- 
 ing itself in long, foam-crested ridges, thundering 
 
THE BLOCKADE 131 
 
 over the sands on the farther side of the little 
 strip of an island which forms a breakwater 
 and makes the harbor of Nassau. Out beyond 
 stretched the sea, bluer, literally bluer, than sap- 
 phires and more luminous. In the shallow har- 
 bor it was several shades lighter, but perhaps 
 more intensely blue. And up in the blue sk}", to 
 give the finishing touch to the tropically colored 
 picture, was a great cumulous cloud, olive-green 
 and saffron, which threatened before sunset to 
 spill a shower upon the little city. 
 
 Mrs. Townley was reading a letter, obviously 
 not for the first time, for her gaze frequently 
 wandered, now out to the harbor where the 
 prospective blockade-runner lay at anchor, now 
 to the sea or to the cloud, but most often to her 
 daughter's face. The girl was sitting quietly, 
 but it was with an evident effort, for the few 
 movements she made were restless and quite 
 without purpose. 
 
 " I don't like it, after all," she said fretfully. 
 " It's so bright and staring." 
 
 "Did I tell you that Mr. Odell thinks we shall 
 get oif to-morrow, so this is likely to be our 
 last afternoon up here ? Your memory will tell 
 you another story of it when we're gone away." 
 
 " I shall always hate it, whether it's pretty or 
 not, and I shall never remember one of these 
 days if I can help it." 
 
132 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 Her mother turned back to her letter. " Isn't 
 it good," she said, after a little silence, " to hear 
 from them, if it's only as indirectly as this? 
 And Mrs. Sherwin will probably have later 
 news of them by the time we get home, even 
 if there isn't a letter waiting for us. Three days 
 now — three days — and we'll be home again." 
 
 " It won't be much like home, with father 
 and Harper away, and no house to go to. And 
 we'll be curiosities, too. Every one we know will 
 insist upon all the details of our adventures. 
 We'll have to tell our story a dozen times a day. 
 If they'd only leave us alone ! " 
 
 That was about what Celia's mood had been 
 ever since they had come to Nassau ; broken by 
 occasional fits of penitence and remorse it is 
 true, but in the main just about that. The 
 next silence was a little longer, but again it was 
 the mother who broke it. 
 
 " Have you noticed the strange blue-gray coat 
 of paint they're putting on the ship ? It's to 
 make her invisible, Mr. Carver says. Really, 
 you can't see her nearly so plainly as you could 
 yesterday. Do you see how that little sponging 
 sloop stands out, and it's farther away than she 
 is. It was Martin's idea, I believe." 
 
 "No doubt," commented Celia. 
 
 " I find myself thinking of it as a certainty," 
 Mrs. Townley went on, " just as though there 
 
THE BLOCKADE 133 
 
 were no blockading fleet in the way. I forget 
 that there is any chance or danger about it. 
 And I suppose it is safe enough, or they 
 wouldn't let us take the risk." 
 
 " Safe ! Do you suppose Martin Carver 
 would as much as look at .it if it weren't 
 perfectly safe ? " 
 
 Mrs. Townley looked at her, not in surprise, 
 for she had heard such outbreaks before, but 
 with both trouble and interrogation in her face. 
 Her daughter did not answer the look, but tried 
 to give a playful note to her voice as she went on. 
 
 " But it wouldn't be so bad if they did take 
 us, Mummy. A prison w^ouldn't be such a bad 
 place. We'd be by ourselves, anyhow." 
 
 But her voice only sounded drier and harder 
 for its attempted lightness. Her mother, with 
 a little sigh, turned her face away, but not until 
 Celia had seen her eves filled with tears. And 
 at that it was as if a taut-drawn cord had 
 snapped. She buried her face in her mother's lap. 
 
 " Oh, Mummy, Mummy, I've been so wicked 
 to you. Do you love me at all, or do you go 
 on being kind to me just because you're kind ? " 
 
 Her mother bent over her, stroking her head 
 and speaking her name softly, as one would 
 speak to a little child. Presently the girl 
 ceased sobbing, and lay quite still in her mother's 
 lap. After a little, she spoke again, very quieth' . 
 
134 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " I've been so miserable and unhappy. You 
 know wliy. At least you know a little why. 
 But I'm going to tell you all about it. I've 
 been trying to tell you a long, long while." 
 
 She was silent, though, for a time, and before 
 speaking again she sat erect and dried her eyes. 
 She had her voice well in control when she 
 began, and if she spoke incoherently, it was by 
 reason of her effort to reveal everything, to show 
 to this one person in the world the whole of her 
 troubled heart. 
 
 " It wasn't so much the thing itself as it was 
 the pettiness and sordidness and meanness of it 
 all that — that was worst. I wouldn't have 
 believed that if I hadn't just seen it grow every 
 day. I knew I'd been mistaken twice about 
 him, and when I began to be afraid of what 
 might happen, I resolved that I wouldn't care 
 what the appearances might be against him. I 
 thought I'd know what he really was, no mat- 
 ter what might seem to contradict it. And 
 then Mr. Odell came over, and they began to 
 have their long talks, and he grew so interested 
 in the idea. Oh, he really lihed it ! If I hadn't 
 seen that part of it, I'd have thought that there 
 must be some reason, some secret that he couldn't 
 tell me, that made him do it. I suppose there 
 might be some reason, perhaps, that w^ould justify 
 a man in turning traitor to his country." 
 
"'Oh, Mummy, Mummy.' 
 
THE BLOCKADE 135 
 
 « Oh — " began ]\Irs. Townley, tentatively. 
 
 " Isn't that what he's done, Mummy ? " the 
 girl demanded imperatively. " Suppose that 
 Harper — " 
 
 " It seems so to us, certainly," said the mother, 
 but still cautiously, and with some hesitation. 
 Celia went on : — 
 
 " If he had just come to me some day and told 
 me he was going to take command of a blockade- 
 runner, I shouldn't have — oh, I'd have cared, 
 of course, but it would have been different. 
 Even if he hadn't explained, even if he hadn't 
 said there was anything to explain, I'd have 
 been sure there was, and that it justified him." 
 
 She made another long pause there. Her 
 thoughts seemed to have strayed away and to be 
 finding some comfort in the case she had just 
 supposed. " But it wasn't that way at all," she 
 said, when she had come back at last to the 
 cheerless realit}^. " He took to it all so horribly 
 naturally. He gradually got interested in the 
 idea, and when they asked him to do it, he did 
 it, just of course. He didn't see any harm in 
 being a traitor. He wasn't ashamed of it ; he 
 didn't mind it being spoken of. He even made 
 conversation about it himself, and w^hen he saw 
 that I despised him — he did see that, he didn't 
 know the reason. He doesn't know now. He 
 thinks it's something about Winthrop. Oh, 
 
136 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 why couldn't he have been a little more like 
 Winthrop?" 
 
 Her voice was vibrant with scorn, and there 
 was something besides scorn in it, too. She 
 sat looking out to sea awhile and then turned 
 back to her mother. 
 
 " That's all. Mummy," she said. " Let's go 
 back to the hotel. I'm tired." 
 
 " But is that all, Celia ? Isn't there some- 
 thing else for you to tell me ? " 
 
 She had half risen, but now she sank back 
 again in her seat. The flush which spread from 
 cheeks to forehead showed she had understood 
 the question. 
 
 " Yes, that's all ; that's truly all. He has 
 never — There is no more to tell. I think 
 there might have been, if I — It makes it all 
 the worse. Oh, I know it's better in some 
 ways that it's as it is ! But I haven't any right 
 to care so much. I ought to be glad. I ought 
 to be glad for the South. I ought to be glad 
 that there are Yankees who'll do such a thing." 
 Her voice broke there, but she recovered it im- 
 mediately. " But I can't be glad, and I haven't 
 any right to hate and despise the thing he's done 
 any more than what old Mr. Carver has done, 
 or plenty of other people. That's almost the 
 hardest — ves, I think that's the worst of all. 
 Kiss me, Mummy." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 The plans for the expedition were worked out 
 with a thoroughness in detail which seemed to 
 leave little room for mischance. They were to 
 start about dusk on the afternoon decided upon. 
 Three days' easy running, for the Caroline^ would 
 bring them to Cape Fear shortly after dark. 
 The moon would not rise that night until nearly 
 midnight, so, the days being then almost at their 
 shortest, they would have six good hours of 
 darkness in which to dodge through the fleet 
 and into the river. They had as good a pilot as 
 could be got, — Martin had seen to that, — the 
 man who had, that very week, brought the Theo- 
 dora out of the same port that they were bound 
 for, who knew as much of the special conditions 
 and perils there as it was possible to know of 
 anything that kept changing so constantly. 
 
 Mrs. Townley had not been alone in her un- 
 thinking confidence that all would go according 
 to plans. All the party — leaving Martin out 
 of account, for no one could tell what he thought 
 — all were alike in regarding success as a fore- 
 gone conclusion, the chickens as already hatched, 
 the ship as good as safe in port. That feeling 
 
 137 
 
138 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 was natural enough. Already other craft, not 
 unlike their own, were beginning to appear in 
 these waters, some triumphant in achievement, 
 the rest almost equally triumphant in the an- 
 ticipation of it. Two or three runners had 
 reported vo^^ages as uneventful as any in time 
 of peace, and what adventures the others had 
 had seemed mild enough in the telling. Those 
 that had come to grief, those that had been 
 driven aground and burned amid a blaze of artil- 
 lery and Coston lights, those that had been taken 
 alive and now, rechristened and under another 
 flag, were running with the hounds, not with the 
 hare, — those, of course, had never come back to 
 tell the tale and abate the spirits of the survivors. 
 But even their misfortunes had almost always 
 had something rather obvious to account for 
 them, — a glaring error of judgment on the part 
 of master, so glaring that no one else could ever 
 have thought of committing it, or a bit of ill- 
 luck so perverse that it could hardly happen again. 
 To an}^ master or pilot who could keep his wits 
 about him, there ought to be no risk at all. 
 
 That was the way all the party felt about 
 it until the very hour of departure, until the 
 very moment when Mr. and Mrs. Carver crossed 
 the gang-plank shoreward and the improved 
 oscillating cj^linders began slowly to move the 
 noiseless feathering paddles. Mrs. Townley and 
 
THE BLOCKADE 139 
 
 Celia, and Mr. Odell, — for he too, was going 
 through to establish the business at the Wil- 
 mington end, — all gathered at the rail for one of 
 those long-range conversations, which, in spite of 
 previous warnings of experience, people in such 
 circumstances will always attempt. 
 
 At that moment to all of them the notion 
 occurred that there was a whole fleet of cruisers 
 between them and Wilmington, any one of which 
 could send the defenceless Caroline to bottom 
 with a single shell, whose first and only business 
 just now was to prevent enterprises like this 
 from succeeding. All but Mr. Odell swallowed 
 this idea as well as they could in silence, but he 
 tried to make a joke of it. 
 
 '' If you don't hear of us for a month," he 
 cried to Mr. Carver ashore, " come up to New 
 York and bail us out of Fort Hamilton." 
 
 " Where ? " called Mr. Carver. 
 
 " Hamilton — Fort Hamilton ! " shouted Odell. 
 
 There being another Hamilton at Bermuda, 
 Nassau's one great rival in the blockade-running 
 trade, Mr. Carver naturally misunderstood, and 
 began shouting excited questions as to what he 
 meant by talking about Hamilton, while Mr. 
 Odell, his voice breaking under the unnatural 
 strain he had put upon it, tried vainly to correct 
 him, until the increasing distance between them 
 finally reduced both to pantomime. 
 
140 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 Still full of his new, disquieting thoughts about 
 shells and cruisers, Mr. Odell, after they were 
 out of the harbor, sought out the pilot, thinking 
 to get comfort from him. After some semi- 
 nautical inquiries as to the state of the glass and 
 the prospects for fine weather, he came to the 
 subject near to his heart. 
 
 <' I suppose," he said, as nonchalantly as pos- 
 sible, " that under favorable conditions such as 
 we have, there's practically no danger at all." 
 
 Now, the pilot was a sailor to begin with, and 
 he was also an artist, altogether too good an 
 artist to belittle his own profession. He took a 
 very large chew of tobacco and a very long look 
 at Mr. Odell. Then he spat reflectively over the 
 side. " Well, now," said he, slowly, " where did 
 you get any such idea as that ? " 
 
 Then, after an inquiry as to whether Mr. Odell 
 had sailed into that port before, he began at the 
 beginning. He agreed with Mr. Odell in express- 
 ing small regard for the cruisers. " But," said 
 he, " leave that out entirely. Say that they cut 
 no figure at all in the situation, and what's the 
 job we've got laid out for us ? " 
 
 Well, he made a long story of it, and whatever 
 its interest may have been intrinsically, it cer- 
 tainly fascinated Mr. Odell. In the main, all 
 that he said was true. He dwelt at length upon 
 the terrors of Frying-pan Shoals, without, it 
 
THE BLOCKADE 141 
 
 must be owned, giving them more than was 
 really their due. He told direful stories of "The 
 Lump," and if they had not all happened at that 
 time, they all came true before the long block- 
 ade was over, and surely prophetic license is 
 not too much to allow a pilot. 
 
 "And," he concluded, "when it comes to find- 
 ing a harbor entrance that shifts at every storm 
 or lump of sea, on as nasty a night as the master 
 can pick out, with never a buoy or beacon, no 
 light but w^mt's in your own binnacle to go by, 
 and nothing but a scud of flying cloud to give 
 you the range, / ain't the man to call it an 
 easy job. And I ain't said nothing about the 
 cruisers." 
 
 At that, seeing that he had produced the effect 
 he sought, the pilot lapsed into silence, and no 
 further inquiries could draw from him more than 
 the most unsatisfactory of monosyllables. 
 
 Mr. Odell then left him hurriedly, and went in 
 search of Martin. He was surprised and a little 
 inclined to be indignant at not finding him at the 
 post of danger on the bridge, and his indigna- 
 tion very nearly betrayed itself openly, when, 
 after looking high and low over the ship, he 
 went to the least likely place of all, and there 
 found him in his own cabin, contentedly smok- 
 ing his pipe, and reading a well-thumbed copy of 
 Maury's " Physical Geography of the Sea." 
 
142 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " I have just been having some conversation 
 with our ]ulot," lie began. " It seemed to me 
 tliat you sliould know of it at once ; so, as I didn't 
 find you on the bridge, I ventured to come here." 
 
 Whatever Martin may have guessed, whether 
 or not there came a faint smile behind his face, 
 he replied very gravely, and with great concern: — 
 
 " You did quite right, of course. Thank you. 
 Shall I call the pilot, or will you tell me what he 
 said ? " 
 
 " I think I can give you the gist of it," said 
 Mr. Odell, still a little stiffly. 
 
 The pilot's story lost nothing in the telling. 
 It was quite apparent that they were going to 
 almost certain destruction, that nothing short 
 of a miracle, whether wrought by Providence or 
 by the pilot, could save them. In conclusion, 
 Mr. Odell suggested, as emphatically as was con- 
 sistent with a mere suggestion, that they give 
 up all idea of getting into Wilmington and 
 make instead for Charleston, Savannah, or 
 some other port where there was some hope of 
 success. 
 
 Martin said nothing until he had finished, and 
 not immediately then. It is a curious fact that, 
 while he was putting aside his Maury and de- 
 liberating upon his answer, Mr. Odell began to 
 feel exactly like a schoolboy who has taken a 
 question to his master and suddenly becomes 
 
THE BLOCKADE 143 
 
 aware that he has asked something exceptionally 
 silly ; or like the recruit who, at the suggestion 
 of his older comrades, has just asked the com- 
 missary sergeant for his " sabre-ammunition.'* 
 
 " The other fellows get in," said Martin. 
 « The Theodora has gone into Wilmington twice, 
 and so has the Kate^ since we have been at 
 Nassau. This same pilot has taken them in 
 himself." 
 
 " The conditions may have changed — " 
 
 "A little," said Martin, "but for the better. 
 They've a better system of giving you the ranges 
 after you show your lights than they had a month 
 ago." 
 
 A very fine red was now burning in Mr. Odell's 
 cheeks. " I wish. Captain, that you'd dispense 
 with that fellow's services as soon as we get 
 into Wilmington if we do get in, and never 
 employ them again. He's been insolent to me ! 
 He's lied to me ! " 
 
 "Oh, I guess he hasn't lied to you — or not 
 much," said Martin. " You see, Mr. Odell, he 
 naturally wants you to think when you get in 
 that you owe it all to his supernatural skill, that 
 with anybody else in his place you'd certainly 
 have been lost ; so he told you all the difficul- 
 ties without saying anything about the special 
 ways he has of meeting them. He's been getting 
 special knowledge for this sort of thing ever since 
 
lU TRAITOK AND LOYALIST 
 
 he was a boy. He knows liow to tell where ha 
 is and to find a harbor entrance, and he's no 
 more likely to run on The Lump than you are 
 to stumble over a chair in your own drawing- 
 room. There are tricks in all trades, and he 
 w^ants his to be as impressive as possible. That's 
 not saying, though, that the job he has isn't a dif- 
 ficult one, or that he isn't really entitled to a lot 
 of credit every time he does it successfully." 
 
 However it may be in others, there w^ere a 
 whole catalogue of tricks in the trade of block- 
 ade-running. By 1863 they had all been discov- 
 ered, and w^ere practised by everybody, but at 
 the beginning one had to find them out for him- 
 self. Martin was about to learn one now, and 
 in the school whose lessons one is most unlikely 
 to forget. 
 
 He had laid his course, on leaving Nassau, 
 straight for Hole-in-the-Wall, as any good navi- 
 gator in his place w^ould have done, — any one 
 except an old blockade-runner, had there been 
 such a person in those days. 
 
 The southern extremitv of Great Abaco Island, 
 which lies about fifty miles north by east from 
 Nassau, presents itself w^edge-wise between the 
 main Bahamas Channel and the Northwest 
 Providence Channel. One naturallv sailed as 
 close to it as possible, both because the Great 
 Abaco light gave one his whereabouts precisely, 
 
THE BLOCKADE 145 
 
 and because on the other side of the channel lay 
 the dangerous reefs of Eleuthera. 
 
 Consequently this principal corner upon so 
 important a thoroughfare soon became a favorite 
 point of vantage for Federal cruisers, and from 
 very early in the war one of them might almost 
 alv^ays be found, loafing about, as it were, with 
 its hands in its pockets, but quite ready to rush 
 out and snap up any luckless runners which might 
 come by that way. So the runners soon learned 
 to give that headland a wide berth, and to take 
 their chances among the reefs instead. It was 
 a trick of the trade, merely, but an important 
 one to know. 
 
 Now, as we have said, the Caroline was steam- 
 ing straight along for Hole-in-the-Wall, and was, 
 furthermore, making her steam with a medium 
 quality of Welsh coal, which is by no means 
 smokeless, her anthracite being husbanded for 
 time of danger. This economy was practised, 
 not because anthracite was costly — for in 
 blockade-running one did not count the cost — 
 but because it was frequently impossible to get 
 it at any price, and a runner without any of it, 
 unable to turn her wheels without making smoke, 
 was in a perilous case, indeed. So the Caroline^ 
 steaming easily and smoking in the same degree, 
 drew near Abaco, having for some time back 
 made out the light very clearly. 
 
146 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 The moon had risen a little before, and was 
 already lighting up the sea with subtropical 
 brilliancy. The passengers were gathered aft, 
 admiring it and enjoying the lovely calm of the 
 evening, for the air, except as the steamer cleft 
 a way through it, was quite still. 
 
 " It's pleasant to have some light to go by," 
 observed Mr. Odell, rubbing his hands. " And 
 it seems safer, too, than to be rushing along 
 among all these little islands in the dark." 
 
 Mrs. Townley agreed with him. " Though I 
 suppose it makes very little difference, really," 
 she said. " Sailors seem to have a sixth sense 
 for knowing where they are in the night." 
 
 The moon did make a difference, however, 
 and a large one. As the light grew brighter, 
 Martin, from the bridge, threw more than one 
 anxious glance at the smoking funnel. It was 
 beginning to occur to him that perhaps it would 
 be better to go somewhat less conspicuously 
 past this important " four corners " in the pub- 
 lic highway. He sent down an order to the 
 engineers. 
 
 " Have the stokers fire more carefully. We're 
 making more smoke than is necessary." 
 
 Just as he had given the order, another puff, 
 blacker than ever, belched out of the funnels, 
 and another order went at the heels of the first. 
 
 " Fire with anthracite." 
 
THE BLOCKADE 147 
 
 There is the sixth sense, if you please, Mrs. 
 Townley ; an instinct that gives warning of a 
 danger not yet perceptible, that rings so loud an 
 alarm, that practical considerations, so called, at 
 once give place to it. 
 
 Martin was scanning the sea with his glass. 
 There seemed to be nothing certainly, but still — 
 
 He low^ered the glass, and stood irresolutely a 
 moment ; then in three strides he was at the 
 signal lever. There was the muffled sound of a 
 bell, and then the engines stopped. 
 
 There is always at sea a sharp sensation of 
 dread when, without warning, a ship's great 
 heart suddenly ceases to beat ; and on this voyage, 
 with the thought of danger not far below the 
 surface in every one's mind, the effect was intensi- 
 fied. There was a moment when not a soul in 
 the ship drew breath. The little group of pas- 
 sengers aft, the blackened men in the stoke-hole, 
 the port watch dozing in the forecastle, the cook 
 in his galley and the steward near the cabin 
 door, suddenly stiffened in whatever attitudes of 
 rest or motion this alarm had surprised them. 
 Even the old engineer who had pulled the 
 lever pressed his lips tighter together, as he 
 stood waiting at his post for what should come 
 next. 
 
 It might be a splintering crash into another 
 ship, or into a half-hidden coral reef; it might 
 
148 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 be the scrape of a long-boat alongside and the 
 tramp of feet on deck as a prize crew from some 
 cruiser took possession of her ; or it might be 
 nothing at all. But, brave man as he was, his 
 face set and he drew his breath softly as he 
 waited. 
 
 A silence, complete but for the soft rustle as 
 she sliced her way through the water, fell upon 
 the ship. The second officer, whose watch it 
 was and who was also on the bridge, was star- 
 ing at Martin in undisguised amazement ; for the 
 captain was standing, his hand still resting on 
 the signal lever, his eyes lowered to the deck, 
 absentl}^, as a man overtaken by a day-dream. 
 This was their captain ! 
 
 Martin raised his eyes and read what was 
 plain enough to read in his lieutenant's face. 
 
 " Listen ! " he said. 
 
 And then the other heard it. Far off over the 
 water, coming from nowhere, from everywhere, 
 was another pulse, another heart-throbbing, 
 racking itself in the utmost agony of haste. 
 
 " It's no use trying to get her bearing by ear 
 on a night like this," said Martin, coolly. " Take 
 your glass, Mr. White, and see if you can make 
 her out. We can't run until we know which 
 way to go." 
 
 He himself was scanning the sea as he said 
 it. Nothing, — and after thirty seconds still 
 
THE BLOCKADE 149 
 
 nothing, — nothing but a tiny shred of white, a 
 particle of silver wire glinting on the sea. He 
 lowered the glass and jerked the lever back 
 again, full speed ahead. "Three points abaft 
 the beam, Mr. White," he said. 
 
 The mate had his glass on it in an instant. 
 The gleaming shred needed no explanation. It 
 was the curl and break of a wave under the stem 
 of the cruiser as she gathered way. 
 
 Their relative positions were rather favorable 
 to the runner, for the cruiser had to go round 
 the end of the shoal off Hole-in-the-Wall, whereas 
 the Caroline was clear of it. Martin sent for the 
 first engineer. " I want to drop him before sun- 
 rise," he said, pointing out the cruiser. " Get 
 all the speed out of this craft you can. Make it 
 your first consideration." 
 
 The man said he would do his best, and was 
 going away just as Mr. Odell came up. 
 
 " You're going to get us safe away from that 
 rascal, aren't you, Mr. Engineer ? " he asked. 
 
 " The captain can tell you better than I about 
 that, sir." 
 
 " Well, what do you say, Captain ? " 
 
 "If he hadn't just referred to me, I'd have 
 referred you to Mr. Morgan. The best I can say 
 is that if we have the heels of her we shall get 
 off, but if she has the heels of us, she's pretty 
 sure to catch us." 
 
150 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " No doubt," said Mr. Odell, dryly, flushing a 
 little. 
 
 " You see," Martin went on, " there won't be 
 any more darkness till to-morrow evening, so we 
 have practically no chance of giving her the slip 
 in any way but by running straight away from 
 her. And unless we're faster we can't do it. 
 That's the question we are going to try now. 
 I should think that in an hour we should be 
 able to tell you something more about it. As 
 Mr. Morgan says, the best we can do is all we 
 can do." 
 
 Mr. Odell never forgot as long as he lived 
 what doing their best meant aboard the Caro- 
 line. They stripped her upper works of every- 
 thing movable, or even removable, that could 
 hinder the rush of the keen night air across her 
 bare decks. They fed coal into her roaring 
 furnaces until her funnels scorched the deck 
 planks, until the decks were so hot they blistered 
 the feet. The stokers, who changed shifts every 
 twenty minutes, would come staggering out on 
 deck and drop exhausted till it was time to go 
 down into hell again. And, driven by so fierce 
 a blast, the graceful, slender little Caroline^ 
 whose usual motion was so smooth and effort- 
 less, trembled, shook, jarred from stem to stern, 
 and seemed fairly to cry out as she flew along. 
 It was impossible to tell whether it was all to 
 
THE BLOCKADE 151 
 
 be in vain or not. Fast as they flew, they could 
 always see, far off astern, the white wreath 
 under the stem of their pursuer. The cruiser was 
 doing her best, too, and one '< best " seemed quite 
 as good as another. 
 
 There was no thought of sleep that night — 
 no thought of leaving the deck, for either the 
 heat or the excitement was reason enough to 
 make staying below intolerable. The steward 
 brought out two canvas chairs for Mrs. Townley 
 and Celia, while Mr. Odell and two other men 
 who were going through as passengers had their 
 mattresses brought up from their state-rooms. 
 Every ten minutes some one would go aft to the 
 taffrail for another look through the glass, and 
 on his return the rest w^ould all rouse themselves 
 and ask the news, only to get, w^ith slight varia- 
 tions, the old report — No change. 
 
 About three in the morning, Martin came 
 down from the bridge, and joined Mr. Odell, w^ho 
 happened to be standing by the rail. " I'd like 
 a little talk with you," he said. " I want some 
 information." 
 
 "We are doing the best we can," he went 
 on, after waiting till one of the other passen- 
 gers, who had strolled up, had, somewhat more 
 jauntily, strolled away again. " We're doing 
 our best, but our best isn't enough. We haven't 
 gained three lengths on that chap the last 
 
152 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 three hours. I don't believe we've lost much 
 more than that, but, as I say, that isn't good 
 enough." 
 
 " He's saying exactly the same thing himself, 
 I dare say." 
 
 " He may be saying it to his men, but I guess 
 he's saying to himself that if he can keep us 
 hull up till sunrise he's got us. And I'm in- 
 clined to agree with him. Any change that 
 comes is likely to help him. If he can get a 
 breeze of the right sort or a bit of lumpy sea or 
 another cruiser, and all three are likely enough, 
 he'll have us. So I think it's necessary to do 
 better. I rather think we shall have to lighten 
 ship." 
 
 " To — what ? " 
 
 " To pitch part of our cargo overboard." 
 
 " I shouldn't want to do that unless it was 
 absolutely necessary." 
 
 '' I shan't decide for half an hour. I'd like 
 you to tell me what you think it best to sacri- 
 fice. It's just a question, I suppose, of how 
 much everything's worth a pound." 
 
 Mr. Odell hesitated. " Yes — or — well, not 
 exactly. There is another consideration, and 
 that is, what would we like least to have them 
 find on board if they took us." Then, half 
 apologetically, he went on, "I suppose there 
 might be a difference in the eyes of the law, 
 
THE BLOCKADE 153 
 
 perhaps, between taking arms or ammunition 
 through the blockade and taking other things." 
 
 Martin was frowning thoughtfully. " I sup- 
 pose there would," he said abruptly, at last. 
 
 " Yes," Mr. Odell went on, " I should say if 
 you decide to lighten the cargo you'd much 
 better send all heavy hardware overboard. And 
 I should say, too, I think, that we'd better not 
 make it part of our cargo a second time. And 
 we'll put up with one half-loaf this trip and 
 try to make up for it by and by." 
 
 He was rather less philosophical about it when 
 he actually began to see the heavy cases tumbling 
 off astern, and he looked aft at the speck of a 
 cruiser with no friendly eye. " If we had one big 
 gun instead of all these muskets, I'd be tempted 
 to lie up a bit and drop a shell into her." 
 
 " I didn't suppose you had the makings of a 
 pirate about you," said Martin. " That's what 
 it would be, you know, and no mistake about it, 
 if we fired into her. Piracy ! And the trap- 
 door and the halter for all of us ! " 
 
 It was a long job getting the heavy cases over- 
 board, but by the time it was completed they 
 had alread}^ gained perceptibly on their pursuers. 
 By the time the dawn had brightened into day 
 she was all but lost again, the top of her funnels 
 and her two raking masts alone being visible. 
 
 They had not yet done with her, though, tor 
 
154 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 just at that time a light-to-fresh westerly breeze 
 sprang up, and a little later, when Martin had 
 gone down into the cabin for a cup of coffee, the 
 mate came to him in great excitement, reporting 
 the cruiser as being hull up again and rapidly 
 overhauling them under sail. " And this darned 
 little teapot hasn't a rag of canvas to bless her- 
 self with ! " 
 
 "Keep her as she bears," said Martin, quite 
 easily, and he finished his coffee before he went 
 on deck. The cruiser was plainly in sight when 
 he mounted the bridge, but he hardly cast a 
 glance at her. He had just looked at his barom- 
 eter. Now he took a casual survey of the sky. 
 Then : — 
 
 " Port your helm," he called down to the 
 quartermaster in the wheel-house, "and steer a 
 course due east." 
 
 It was so simple a trick that the mate was 
 never afterward able to persuade himself that it 
 was not he who had thought of it. Both vessels 
 were of course steaming faster than this light 
 breeze was blowing. With it almost abeam the 
 cruiser could still use it to a great advantage, 
 but with it directly abaft it was reduced to a 
 minus quantity. It took her sails aback, dead- 
 ened her way, and a very few minutes after she 
 had come around on the new course the watchers 
 on the Caroline saw her, again under bare poles, 
 
THE BLOCKADE 155 
 
 dropping off astern. They did not see her again, 
 and after making a wide detour, for caution's 
 sake, the Caroline again headed for Cape Fear. 
 
 It will be better, perhaps, to try to get a 
 juster idea than the pilot succeeded in giving 
 Mr. Odell of the difficulties which attended run- 
 ning the blockade into Wilmington. The city 
 lies on the Cape Fear River, about thirty miles 
 from its mouth, but the river flows south, 
 so nearly parallel to the coast that the distance 
 in a direct line from the city to the sea is only 
 six or seven miles. The river had in those days 
 — it has been changed since — two channels to 
 the sea. The main channel lay straight on south- 
 ward ; the other, turning to the left, the east, led 
 out past Federal Point, through New Inlet. On 
 this point Fort Fisher, famous in the annals of 
 the war, had already assumed formidable pro- 
 portions. The other entrance, or main channel, 
 was commanded by Fort Caswell. 
 
 Between these two channels lay Smith Island, 
 projecting southward into the point w^hose best 
 description is in its name, Cape Fear ; and still 
 southward from the cape, extending fifteen miles 
 out to sea, lie Frying-pan Shoals. The name is 
 a little misleading. Smith's Island is really the 
 frying-pan, and the shoals the handle. 
 
 Going around this handle made a journey, 
 
156 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 from one channel entrance to the other, of nearly 
 forty miles ; so, from the blockader's point of 
 view, the two were as entirely distinct as if they 
 belonged to different ports. By day and with a 
 smooth sea, a light-draft steamer could contrive to 
 creep across the shoals at various points, but as 
 the sea was seldom smooth and the result of the 
 attempt uncertain enough at the best, it was not 
 often done. 
 
 To the outward-bound runner this choice of 
 two channels was a very distinct advantage. 
 He could slip down the river, anchor at Smith- 
 ville, and wait a favorable chance at one door 
 or the other to get out. But the runner bound 
 for Wilmington had to decide which entrance to 
 make for when he was still well out at sea, and 
 then to take his chance with conditions as he 
 found them. 
 
 Very late indeed in her fourth night out of 
 Nassau, the Caroline came limping cautiously 
 along the west side of Frying-pan Shoals, bound 
 for the main channel ; she had already had a fair 
 share of experiences, even for a blockade runner, 
 for, after turning out of her course to shake oif 
 the cruiser, she had encountered a storm which 
 tossed her about, lightened as she was of the 
 main part of her cargo, like a shuttlecock, had 
 damaged her starboard paddle, and had threat- 
 ened to roll her funnels right out of her. The 
 
THE BLOCKADE 157 
 
 passengers had been so acutely miserable that 
 their relief on getting into smooth water again 
 made getting past the cruisers a minor considera- 
 tion altogether. 
 
 Martin and the pilot were both looking rather 
 grave. To begin with they did not know exactly 
 where they were, for the sky had been heavily 
 overcast since morning, and now that the clouds 
 were to be of capital assistance to them in veil- 
 ing the moon, which was by now high up in the 
 sky, they threatened to break up and reveal the 
 Caroline, right amid the fleet. But both men 
 agreed that it was better to run this chance than 
 to put to sea again. For, with the steamer in 
 her present condition, another long chase would 
 almost certainly have a different result. 
 
 Somewhere before them in the velvet-black 
 night towered Bald-head with its abandoned 
 lighthouse. Somewhere was a rank of sleepless 
 cruisers, silent, alert. Somewhere was a chan- 
 nel, if they could but find it, and a way to 
 safety. 
 
 They had been crawling along for more than 
 an hour, taking soundings constantly, for that 
 was the only way of determining their where- 
 abouts, when the pilot, who stood by Martin on 
 the bridge, with a sigh of relief pointed forward. 
 Far off there glowed, through the darkness, a dim 
 point of light, visible at all only to practised eyes. 
 
158 TKAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " What is it ? Not the light-ship ? " queried 
 Martin. 
 
 " No, she won't show her light till we ask for 
 it. It's a little special arrangement the Yankees 
 have for helping us through. The middle ship 
 in the line alwaj^s shows a light. It gives the 
 harbor entrance as good as old Bald-head Light 
 itself could." 
 
 " It's alwaj's the middle ship that shows the 
 light ? " said Martin, incredulously. 
 
 The pilot chuckled. " It is 'most too good to 
 be true. And I suppose it's too good to last." 
 
 " Too good to have lasted as long as this, I'm 
 afraid," said ]\lartin. 
 
 " Well, maybe. But it's all we've got to go 
 by to-night, so we'll just hope for the best. 
 How about it ? Are 3'ou ready to make a try 
 for it?" 
 
 " Just a moment," said Martin. He sent a 
 message to the engine-room. " Tell Mr. Morgan 
 that the fleet is sighted, and ask if he has steam 
 enough to make a dash for it." 
 
 " Steam enough," came back the answer. 
 
 Then on every muscle, every nerve, every 
 faculty, there came a quiet pulling up of the 
 tension. Martin nodded to the pilot. " All 
 readv ! " he said. 
 
 Then silently, stealthily, the Caroline began 
 creeping up for her spring. The cruiser's light 
 
THE BLOCKADE 159 
 
 was slowly rising higher above the water. It 
 was so nearly time, the moment for the dash so 
 near to the razor edge of the present, that wait- 
 ing for it seemed intolerable. 
 
 Martin touched the pilot's elbow, and as he 
 spmi round pointed to the east. The clouds 
 were breaking and rolling off, leaving great 
 patches of moonlit sky. 
 
 " We'll have the light full on us in three 
 minutes," whispered the pilot, simply. " Well, 
 it's now or not at all ; what do you say ? " 
 
 Martin nodded. " Now, of course," he said. 
 
 " I wish I was — What in hell — " 
 
 The light had been penetrating farther into 
 the black west every instant, and as the pilot 
 laid his hand on the signal lever, in the very act 
 of pulling it over to full speed, he saw right 
 before him a headland with a white lighthouse 
 on top of it. Bald-head ! The cruiser which had 
 shown her light was no longer in the middle of 
 the line, but at the southeast end of it. 
 
 He might have made his dash straight through 
 from where he was, and he might have got her 
 across the shoal water in safety. But perhaps 
 he had forgotten for the moment how little the 
 Caroline drew now that part of lier cargo was at 
 the bottom of the sea, or perhaps his nerve had 
 been shaken by this sudden discovery of the 
 mistake he had made. Whatever the reason, 
 
160 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 instead of the " Full speed ahead," which Martin 
 still expected, it was " Stop," and then " Astern." 
 
 Just as she was gathering way, the moon 
 came out clear. But they were not so near the 
 ships now, and there was still an even chance of 
 her getting off unobserved, in which case, should 
 the sky cloud over again, they could make an- 
 other attempt that night. So the Caroline was 
 still moving slowly, cautiously. 
 
 But there were sharp eyes in the fleet. 
 Though the watch w^as constant, it was keen, 
 and just as those aboard the Caroline we^^:^ begin- 
 ning to think themselves safe, the glare of a 
 Coston light and the flight of a rocket straight 
 in their direction told them that they were 
 discovered. 
 
 " We'll have to run for it now," said the pilot, 
 "but we ought to get off handily enough." 
 
 As if in mockery of his confidence, two more 
 rockets rose at the same instant, one in the 
 south, the other in the southwest. 
 
 The pilot laughed aloud. "• Damn such luck ! " 
 he said. " Well, it's all up. Captain. We may 
 as well come down before they begin dropping 
 shells instead of rockets on us." He stopped the 
 engines as he said it. 
 
 At sight of the rockets, the passengers, Mrs. 
 Townley and Celia, as well as the others, had 
 come hurrying aft to the bridge. 
 
THE BLOCKADE 161 
 
 " What's that you say, Pilot ? " demanded Mr. 
 Odell. 
 
 " They've caught us, sir, like a rat in a trap, 
 damn them ! " 
 
 Martin had been looking back at Bald-head, at 
 the cruisers, at the sky. Now he spoke. " Not 
 yet, I think. Pilot. One of us is going to try to 
 get her off. Are you ? " 
 
 " No, nor you either," said the pilot, — " not 
 while I command this ship, and until we're out- 
 side Frying-pan I do. Mr. White," — he turned 
 to the mate — " show some sort of a light before 
 they begin firing on us." 
 
 '' Mr. White," said Martin, " stay where you 
 are." 
 
 Neither of these men had ever sailed under 
 Captain Martin Carver before. They knew he 
 had been a " wind-jammer," and steam had, 
 away back in those days, a contempt for sail. 
 
 " I think the pilot is right, sir," said the mate. 
 " They'd shoot us to pieces if we tried to get 
 through in this light." 
 
 " I shall take this ship in," said Martin, very 
 quietly. " Will you go in as second mate, or in 
 irons as a mutineer ? Pilot, leave the bridge ! " 
 
 The pilot hesitated a moment, then went al- 
 most precipitately. Whatever menace may have 
 accompanied the order to him was unspoken. 
 
 " Now, Mr. White ? " 
 
 M 
 
162 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the mate, simply. 
 
 "You will take the wheel yom-self. I mean 
 to try to take the Caroline across the Frying-pan. 
 Put 3^our helm hard over to starboard, please," 
 and he signalled the engines, "Ahead, slow!" 
 
 And then, for long, long hours, or for a little 
 under thirty minutes, according as one went by 
 guess or by chronometer, they worked the Caro- 
 line across Frying-pan Shoals. There was, Mar- 
 tin knew, a pretty well-defined crease from one 
 side to the other, not far from their present 
 whereabouts, and, moving very slowly, taking 
 soundings every ten fathoms, they felt their way 
 along toward it. 
 
 Before he had found it Martin had an almost 
 mutinous crew. They did not know him, to 
 begin with. They had never gone with him 
 through a hundred perils, as the old Crosses 
 crew had. Even at that, for a dash, for any- 
 thing that demanded the utmost effort of action, 
 he could have carried them all, with a cheer. 
 But this crawling along two miles an hour, 
 with half a dozen cruisers converging upon 
 them, with nothing to wait for but the begin- 
 ning and the end of a rain of shot and shell, 
 this was another matter ; this, they said, was 
 not what they signed for. They gathered, clam- 
 orous, protesting, at the foot of the bridge 
 ladder. 
 
THE BLOCKADE 163 
 
 " Look at the sky," said Martin, curtly. " I 
 did before I started." 
 
 His speech was interrupted by the scream of 
 a shell. <' If they can't make better practice 
 than that by moonlight, how will they see us 
 in the dark ? A little more to port, Mr. White. 
 Now go back to your places. You'll have a 
 yarn to spin for the next twenty years." 
 
 The skies had turned friendly at last ; a 
 heavy curtain of cloud was again rolling across. 
 The next two or three shells improved the situa- 
 tion a little, for they showed what difficulty the 
 cruisers w^ere finding in getting the range. And 
 three minutes later they found their channel. 
 
 Their channel, indeed ! Slowly, even more 
 slowdy, stopping, backing, going ahead again into 
 what promised to be deeper w^ater, only to find 
 the promise a delusion, but still gradually mak- 
 ing progress, gradually leaving the cruisers be- 
 hind, and at last, at last, under a black sk}^, 
 coming out into deep water again. 
 
 " Starboard your helm, Mr. White," said Cap- 
 tain Carver ; " lay the course northeast by 
 north." 
 
 The mate knew his man by this time, and he 
 was not surprised, but he grinned joyously as 
 he spun the wheel over, and turned the Caro- 
 line's head landw^ard toward Wilmington again 
 that night. 
 
164 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 "Mr. Pilot," said Martin, addressing a figure 
 at the foot of the ladder, " will you take us in 
 through New Inlet ? " 
 
 He came on the bridge and took off his hat. 
 " Thank you, sir," he said. 
 
 They slipped along close to the eastern side 
 of Smith's Island, and the narrow extension of 
 it to northward that divides Buzzard's Bay 
 from the sea ; then silently they approached the 
 south end of the cordon of cruisers across New 
 Inlet, close, close inshore, — for the Caroline 
 would almost have tried her paddles on dry 
 land after to-night's experiences, — and close, 
 horribly close to the watching cruiser at the 
 end of the line. They could hear the watch 
 tramping her decks, they could hear the low 
 hum of steam in her valves, and then the 
 sounds faded into the distance astern. 
 
 Then, a light cautiously displayed on the 
 shore side of the Caroline, and from the shore, 
 low down, an answering beam, and another 
 from higher up, giving the range. And a few 
 minutes later, all need of caution past, they 
 were safe under the guns of Fort Fisher. 
 
 In the gray dawn they came to anchor off 
 Smithville, and as the Caroline might be de- 
 tained there for some time, it was arranged 
 that Mrs. Townley and Celia and Mr. Odell 
 should go up to the city in a little steamer 
 
THE BLOCKADE 165 
 
 which was about to start. As they were leaving, 
 Mrs. Townley came up to Martin. 
 
 " I'm sorry it must be good-by," she said. 
 " I hope that sometime — We owe you a great 
 deal, Celia and I, and you won't think we've 
 forgotten it, will you ? And you'll let me say 
 good-by for her, too. She — Oh, here she 
 comes ! " 
 
 Greatly to her mother's surprise, for that Mrs. 
 Townley should say good-by for her had been 
 arranged between them, she came straight up 
 to Martin. She was not pale, as from a dis- 
 tance he had seen she was yesterday, and her 
 eyes were bright as though unwearied by the 
 long night's watching. 
 
 Their eyes met for the first time since — how 
 well they both remembered it — the day in John 
 Carver's library when her look had said she de- 
 spised him and had denied him the reason. 
 
 What Celia saw was this face she knew so 
 well, intrenched with lines which all the tempests 
 of half a score of years had not put there ; she 
 saw his eyes — clear, steady, loyal — asking, plead- 
 ing, for the reason. 
 
 And what he saw was a look that spoke, that 
 pleaded, that seemed almost to cry out, and yet 
 denied. He saw her eyes fill suddenly with tears, 
 yet proudly hold level with his own. 
 
 She held out her hand. '<■ Good-by," she said. 
 
PART IV 
 
 THE SPY 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 In a small cottage on one of Wilmington's 
 more modest streets the Townleys had lived 
 since the day, three months ago, when Martin 
 had brought them through the blockade. It was 
 on that same day that they found Harper Junior, 
 who had been wounded at Ball's Bluff, sick in the 
 hospital. To this little house they had brought 
 him, and here they had slowly nursed him back 
 to health. 
 
 The time had gone swiftly, for in the hours 
 not devoted to their own invalid they had been 
 working might and main, making clothes, band- 
 ages, delicacies, for the other sons and fathers 
 who were fighting so gallantly, sleeping wet and 
 marching hungry for the Cause. For one week, 
 whose hours had been so precious as to be almost 
 painful, Colonel Townley himself had been with 
 them. They had parted with him, and now they 
 were facing another separation. 
 
 Harper had twice before appealed to the post 
 surgeon to send him back, and had twice been 
 condemned to a longer convalescence ; but Fort 
 Donelson had fallen since the last time, and to- 
 day, after frowning over him for a while, he 
 
 169 
 
170 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 delivered an opinion to the effect that the 
 youngster had no business at the front for another 
 fortnight, but, as he would insist on fretting 
 himself into a fever at home, he might as well 
 pack himself off at once. So the boy had joyfully 
 got his traps together, put on his new uniform, 
 and made his plans to start to-morrow. 
 
 Out of doors, the winter rain was pelting down 
 steadily, and it was hard to keep a part of the 
 cold and cheerlessness from getting within. They 
 made the best they could of what means they 
 had, — the best the South afforded, — but the room 
 was only half lighted by the two poor candles, 
 and only half warmed by the small stove. All 
 of them had drawn up close about it, Mrs. 
 Townley in the middle, with one of her children 
 at either hand. 
 
 There was not much to say, or perhaps there 
 was so much that it choked utterance. Even 
 Harper, whose cheerful spirit was seldom clouded 
 over, was often silent for long together ; and the 
 two women could hardly make head at all against 
 the grim fact of the war and the grim uncertainty 
 of the future, which lay so heavily on their spirits. 
 
 " Mother's quite tired out," said the boy, at 
 last. " You mustn't let her work so hard, Celia. 
 Don't you think she'd better go to bed ? " 
 
 " I suppose we'd better all go. But we don't 
 want to, do we, Mummy ? " 
 
THE SPY 171 
 
 «' Oh, yes, presently," Harper answered. " But 
 you mustn't wait another minute, mother ; you've 
 done too much to-day." 
 
 The mother rose, smiling, but rather faintly, 
 " Don't stay up too long," and with a light touch 
 of her lips on his forehead she was gone. 
 
 " What is it ? " Celia demanded, with a good 
 deal of surprise. " Secrets from mother ! " 
 
 " Why, I don't know that they're secrets. But 
 I want to have a little talk with you, Celia. I 
 have wanted to have it for a long while, and this 
 is our last chance. I — I hoped you'd tell me. 
 But I can't go away and leave my little sister in 
 trouble without knowing what the trouble is." 
 
 " Was I ever your little sister. Harper ? Yes, 
 I remember I was once. But Harper dear — " 
 she leaned forward, resting her hands on his 
 knees — ^' I'm a great deal older than you — so 
 much older ! And there isn't any trouble to tell, 
 to talk about — " 
 
 He frowned thoughtfully, and was for a little 
 while silent. When he began to speak, it was 
 with a little hesitation. 
 
 " I know something — a very little — about 
 it. Dollv has told me — " 
 
 She interrupted him with a dry little laugh, 
 her lips bending in a sort of scornful amusement. 
 " Oh, Dolly ! Yes, Doll}^ is never going to speak 
 to me again as long as she lives." 
 
172 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 The hot color came flaming into his face ; he 
 rose, and drew himself erect. " There's no use 
 in trying to talk about it, then. I am under a 
 misapprehension. I thought you really cared for 
 her." So far very stiffly, but as he went on 
 he forgot this artificial dignity. " She cares for 
 you. She's been loyal to you through every- 
 thing. She's stood up for you, and when they 
 tried to say things against you, she stopped them. 
 And she does that yet. And if you aren't more 
 loyal to her than you seem to be, why, I've been 
 mistaken in you. That's all." 
 
 She looked at him, not hardly, as a moment 
 ago, nor angrily, as he had expected, but very 
 thoughtfully, very keenly, a little wistfully, and 
 at last a smile came into her face. She rose, 
 and went to where he stood, and kissed him. 
 
 " I'm sorry I hurt you, dear," she said. " I 
 didn't altogether understand. And you don't 
 understand, either. I do care for Dolly, very, 
 very much. Not so much, perhaps, as you care 
 for her, or as she cares for you. I'm very happy 
 about that, if it's true. Harper. About her quar- 
 rel with me, time will wear that out, I'm sure, 
 and I'll do my best to help it. It's nothing to 
 make a mystery about. Mother knows all about 
 it ; in a way, she's included in it, too. AVe don't 
 talk about it because it's a long story, and a very 
 stupid one. You know a good deal of it already. 
 
THE SPY 173 
 
 But if you like, I'll begin at the beginning and 
 tell you all about it." 
 
 " I'd like to hear it very much," he said. 
 
 " Well, the beginning," said Celia, " was when 
 we had just come back home. Everybody we 
 knew wanted to hear about our adventures, as 
 they called them. We really hadn't had any, 
 except running the blockade, and that had been 
 in all the papers and everybody knew it already. 
 But that wasn't what they wanted at all. They 
 wanted all the particulars about our stay in New 
 York. And we just told them the truth, or part 
 of it. You know what the truth is. You know 
 how well the Carvers treated us, and how con- 
 siderate they always were of our feelings. They 
 made themselves our friends, too. And they 
 simply jeered at the idea of our being in the 
 way or putting them out at all, though of 
 course we did. But if they hadn't been as nice 
 as that, do you suppose we'd have lived with 
 them, and have borrowed money of Mr. Carver 
 and — Don't you know we'd have w^orked or 
 starved to death rather than be under obligations 
 to any other sort of people for one day ? Oh, 
 of course you do, but it makes me excited just 
 to think about it ! 
 
 " We didn't tell all that to everybody," she 
 went on, " but when we did tell that ^ gentlemen 
 and ladies up North were just like gentlemen 
 
174 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 and ladies anywhere else, and that we hadn't had 
 any adventures at all, that no one hurt us or 
 insulted us, or threatened us, or advised us to 
 leave town, why, they just shook their heads 
 and went on talking exactly as if we'd said they 
 had done all these things. I know how they 
 think about it. We thought so ourselves, once. 
 When we sailed into New York harbor we 
 thought we might be tarred and feathered, per- 
 haps that very day. And we've felt dreadfully, 
 dreadfully silly about it ever since. I don't 
 wonder that people here think the way they do 
 about it, but they ought at least to take our 
 word for w^hat happened to us. They wouldn't, 
 though, and the more we said the worse it grew. 
 And some people, not our friends of course, but 
 some people who knew us and ought to know 
 better, really think we've turned Yankee and 
 have come back to be spies, or something ! " 
 
 " More people than you think, I'm afraid," he 
 said gravely. 
 
 "Well, I'm sorry. It is hard, because it 
 makes us lonely and unhapp3^ It's worse for 
 Mummy than it is for me. I haven't thought 
 so very much about it. But it's not in our 
 hands at all. If it must be so, it must. You 
 wouldn't have us tell things that weren't true 
 about people who were so good to us. We don't 
 talk about it at all now, and that's the best 
 
THE SPY 175 
 
 we can do. We can't unsay what we've said 
 already." 
 
 " I know they were good to you," Harper ad- 
 mitted slowly, " and of course I wouldn't have 
 you say they weren't. But their case is differ- 
 ent. They are Southern sympathizers." 
 
 " Mr. Carver was, but not the others. Mrs. 
 Carver wasn't at all, and Winthrop, you know, 
 is in the Federal navy." 
 
 " Well, the captain is, of course — 3^oung 
 Carver, who brought you through the blockade. 
 It was the Caroline^ by the way, that came 
 through last night ; did you know it ? " 
 
 " And their friends weren't," Celia went on, 
 not heeding the interruption. " I wish you could 
 see Mrs. Carver. You know Mummy's in love 
 with her." 
 
 " Her grandmother was a Virginian," Harper 
 put in stubbornly. " You said so yourself." 
 
 " Whose grandmother wasn't ? Now, Harper, 
 don't you be silly, too. They're just as much 
 Yankee, all of them, as it's possible to be. New 
 England Yankees, at that, originally. But his 
 being a Southern sympathizer hasn't any more 
 to do with his being a gentleman than her having 
 a Virginian grandmother is what makes her a 
 lady. It isn't people's opinions that make them 
 nice or not. Their opinions haven't anything to 
 do with it, and that is what Dolly and I had our 
 
176 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 quarrel about. Dolly said that an abolitionist 
 couldn't be a gentleman, and I told her that I 
 knew an abolitionist who believed in nigger 
 equality and who wanted all the slaves set free, 
 who was as good a gentleman, every bit, as you 
 are, and whom I'd be proud to have for a brother." 
 
 She had used that last phrase once before, but 
 now as she repeated the words she saw in them 
 a secondary significance. Dolly could not pos- 
 sibly have seen it, of course, nor could Harper 
 now, for neither of them knew wliose brother 
 this abolitionist was ; still for an instant she 
 felt that she had made an involuntary confes- 
 sion, had betrayed her secret, and with that feel- 
 ing the color came surging into her face. 
 
 While she had been speaking he had paced 
 the room moodily, but at the word " abolitionist " 
 he stopped and stared at her in utter incredulity. 
 And when, after an instant of silence, he saw her 
 flush, his look changed to one almost of terror. 
 
 " Celia ! " he cried, " what do you mean ? 
 You're not in love with a man like that ! Sooner 
 than let you marry such a hound I'd kill him. 
 I swear to you I would. I'd kill him, if there 
 was no other way, with my bare hands ! " 
 
 The thought of a personal encounter like that 
 between Harper and one of those great, lean 
 Carvers almost brought a smile to her face. 
 
 « I'm not in love with him in the least, so you 
 
THE SPY 177 
 
 can set your mind at rest. You won't have to 
 kill him. But I might have been, easily enough ; 
 any girl might be. He's so fine and gallant and 
 chivalrous and gentle ; and he's beautiful, too, 
 to look at, I mean. I don't love him, not the 
 smallest bit in the world, the way you mean, 
 but I'm very fond of him, and I hope he knows 
 it." 
 
 " I don't care what he is, or what you think 
 he is, rather. A man can't think and believe a 
 degrading thing without being degraded." 
 
 " It hasn't degraded him," she answered 
 thoughtfully. " It has ennobled him, if any- 
 thing. Why, just suppose. Harper, that we were 
 wrong. Suppose that after believing in a thing 
 with all our might, and living it and fighting 
 for it, we found we had been mistaken all the 
 while, would that make us bad, or mean ? " 
 
 Young Townley felt as a teacher of mathe- 
 matics might feel if a refractory pupil refused to 
 admit a belief that two and two will always 
 make four. " Celia," said he, with the laborious 
 patience of one whose patience is nearly ex- 
 hausted, '' Celia, let's get back to the beginning. 
 You know we are right, don't you? And you're 
 sure we're going to win in the end ? " 
 
 " I want us to win," she answered slowly, 
 " and I believe that the side that wins will be 
 right." She made a long pause there. " Harjoer 
 
 N 
 
178 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 dear, I have to be lionest with you, don't I ? I 
 can't tell you anything that isn't quite true. If 
 you'd asked me three months ago, even, if I was 
 sure we were right, I'd have thought the ques- 
 tion too silly to need an answer. I thought so, 
 just as you do, of course. And now I want to 
 think so. I want to with all my might, but I 
 can't be sure. I can't, Harper." 
 
 At that his patience snapped. "I don't see, 
 then, that the people who say you've turned 
 Yankee are so very far wrong." 
 
 She made no reply, but with her hand over 
 her eyes, to shade them from the candle-light, 
 sat thoughtfully silent, while he, angry, aston- 
 ished, speechless, paced back and forth at the 
 farther end of the room. 
 
 How long this had endured neither knew, 
 when they were brought sharply back to the 
 present by a low but distinct knock at the street 
 door. The summons, at that hour of night, 
 was imperative. 
 
 Young Townley caught up the candle as he 
 strode across the room, and flinging the door 
 wide open barred the way with his presence, 
 while, shading the flame with his hand, he 
 peered out at the towering figure which had 
 sought entrance. 
 
 " Captain Carver ! " he exclaimed. " What is 
 it ? Will vou come in ? " 
 
THE SPY 179 
 
 The captain had often been in port since his 
 first memorable voyage, and Harper, wondering 
 much that he never came to the house but dis- 
 couraged from asking questions no less by his 
 mother's manner than by Celia's, had neverthe- 
 less taken occasion to meet him. 
 
 Celia had already risen and was looking 
 towards the door. On hearing the name of their 
 visitor she turned a little pale and dropped her 
 eyes, but, with an effort, held herself just as she 
 was, facing the door. She heard him enter the 
 room and the door click behind him. 
 
 " Lieutenant Carver," the voice corrected. 
 
 At the sound of it, rather than the sense, she 
 gasped. " Winthrop," she cried, and then, under 
 her breath, she repeated the name in clear 
 astonishment over the wonder of his being there. 
 
 " I've come to see you," he said. His glance 
 left her for a moment and rested on young 
 Townley questioningly, as though searching for 
 some memory of his face. 
 
 " My brother Harper," said Celia. 
 
 Winthrop's eyes were now on the Confederate's 
 uniform. " I'm Lieutenant Carver, of the Federal 
 navy," he said quite simply. " We're enemies, of 
 course. Captain Townley, but I hope you'll think 
 it not inconsistent with your duty to grant me 
 an hour's truce." 
 
 Harper had not taken his eyes from him, 
 
180 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 except for one wondering glance at Celia, since 
 he came into the room. " Oh, I suppose," he 
 now said abruptly, as though he had found a clew 
 to his wonder at last, — "I suppose you're the 
 head of that party of — of Federals " (the word 
 came hard) ''who held up the courier on the 
 Jacksonville Road." 
 
 Winthrop smiled. " Do I get my truce ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " You ask a good deal," said Harper, stiffly. 
 " You've taken an unfair advantage, it seems to 
 me. You come here in the middle of the night 
 and offer me my choice between harboring a spy, 
 a spy we've been trying particularly hard to 
 catch for three days, too, or turning you over 
 to the provost after you've thrown yourself on 
 my mercy, and when you have some claim to 
 it." 
 
 " That would be unfair," said Winthrop, as 
 lightly as if the question at issue had been a 
 purely academic one, " very unfair if I'd done it. 
 But I don't throw myself on your mercy at all. 
 It isn't a question of your turning me over to the 
 provost, but of your trying to. And, if you don't 
 mind my saying so, that's quite a different thing. 
 I haven't come into the city without providing 
 for a way out. If you decline the truce I shall 
 do my best to overpower you and to escape. I 
 think I have a fair chance to do it." 
 
THE SPY 181 
 
 He paused there a moment, then, his voice a 
 little more vibrant, more tense, but no louder, he 
 went on, " As to my being a spy, I am that of 
 course, for I am inside your lines and not in 
 uniform ; but I'll give you my word that I've 
 come into Wilmington to-night for just one pur- 
 pose, and that is to see your sister and to tell 
 her something I want her to know." 
 
 Harper remained silent a moment after Win- 
 throp had finished speaking, but not from doubt. 
 The man, the deed, the telling of it, all had set 
 his imagination ablaze. 
 
 " I've never been sorry before to have a Yankee 
 for an enemy," he burst out at last, " but I am 
 now. I'm sorry the truce must end in an 
 hour." 
 
 " Thank you," said Winthrop, and they shook 
 hands. 
 
 Harper hurried out of the room, only to return 
 a moment later wrapped in a long rain-proof 
 cloak. " Mother's asleep," he said, " and I don't 
 believe it's best to wake her, do you ? I'm 
 going to stroll round outside and see that you 
 aren't interrupted. You'd better draw the blinds 
 a little tighter, too, Celia. It's late to be having 
 visitors." 
 
 If the three young people had been their com- 
 mon-sense everyday selves, it is probable that at 
 least one of them would have reflected that a 
 
182 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 solitary figure in a cloak patrolling the house on a 
 night like this would be as likely to attract the 
 curiosity of a chance passer-by as anything that 
 could be devised for that special purpose. But 
 though Winthrop protested, of course, against his 
 going out in the rain, it seemed to him, as to the 
 brother and sister, a natural and fitting thing 
 that, now the truce was agreed upon, its articles 
 should be carried out in as handsome a manner 
 as possible. It is precisely what he would have 
 done had the circumstances been reversed. So 
 in a moment more Harper's patrol was begun 
 up and down the little veranda, and Winthrop 
 was alone with Celia in the half-lit room. 
 
 She laid her hand upon his sleeve. " You're 
 very wet," she said. " Take off your coat and 
 let me hang it up to dry." 
 
 She helped him out of it, for he moved a little 
 stiffly, and hung it behind the stove. It was 
 soggy with three days' rain ; an hour in the stove 
 would hardly have dried it, but at least the 
 water in it would be warm when he put it on 
 again. The easy-chair was still where it had 
 been when Mrs. Townley left it, and she made 
 him sit there. 
 
 "You're cold and tired, I know," she said. 
 " And, oh, — aren't you hungry ? " 
 
 He had forgotten how many hours he had 
 been fasting. 
 
THE SPY 183 
 
 " Only for a talk with you," he said. 
 
 She drew another chair close to the fire for 
 herself and waited for him to go on, but the 
 silence was so long that it was she who broke it. 
 
 " It's so good to see you again, but it's such 
 a wonder that I can't realize that it's wonderful 
 at all. How did you do it ? " 
 
 " We've been ashore about three days, I and a 
 boat's crew. The boat's hidden in a marsh on 
 Masonborough Sound. We've been getting some 
 information the admiral wanted. The boat goes 
 back to-night with my report, whether I'm there 
 or not." 
 
 Again she waited for him to speak and again 
 his silence compelled her to go on. 
 
 " I don't w^onder you look older than you did 
 — how long ? — six months ago. Have you had 
 many adventures like this ? " 
 
 " No, it's been dull enough. We were on 
 blockade here at Wilmington until about three 
 months ago. We were detached for the Port 
 Royal expedition, but we've been back on block- 
 ade ever since. I had a letter from mother that 
 you had run the blockade, and she said she had 
 word you had got through all right." 
 
 " Had word ! " 
 
 " Yes. So I knew I should find you." 
 
 His mood had settled so strongl}' upon him that 
 he let her exclamation go by quite unheeded. 
 
184 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 The minutes were slipping away. " And what 
 is it you've come to tell me ? " she asked. 
 
 He pressed his lips tight together and looked 
 long and fixedly into her face ; then, " Not till I've 
 asked you first," he said. " Celia ! " The out- 
 burst of passion the one word carried almost 
 frightened her. " Celia ! isn't it different now ? 
 a little different ? You didn't know when I told 
 you before. You hadn't thought. I was just a 
 boy to you. But we've lived so long since then. 
 You've known all the while. Doesn't that make 
 a difference ? I was almost beside myself that 
 day. I thought you meant to tell me there was 
 some one else. You didn't say so. I remember 
 every word you said. But wasn't I wrong, 
 thinking you meant it ? Celia, haven't you an 
 answer for me ? " 
 
 She was leaning forward a little in her chair, 
 her elbow on the arm of it, her eyes fixed on the 
 patch of bright red mica in the stove door. " It 
 isn't very easy to be honest, is it ? " she said. 
 " And I want to be honest now, if ever I am 
 going to be in all my life." 
 
 Her voice to her own ears sounded like a 
 stranger's. Her words came slowly, reflectively, 
 absently almost, as if — as was more than half 
 the truth — she had been talking aloud to her- 
 self. They were strange words to say, but 
 strangest about them to him, without the key, 
 
THE SPY 185 
 
 inexplicable, was the note of self-scorn which 
 vibrated through them. 
 
 " I liked you better than I've liked many 
 people, at the very first," she went on, " and I 
 grew to admire you and to be very fond of you. 
 And that last day, the day you went away, I 
 was proud of you. I've been all that ever since. 
 Fond of you, proud of you." 
 
 She repeated the words as though they hurt 
 her, as though she wanted them to hurt, and the 
 pain was a sort of pleasure. He, astonished, 
 perplexed, was trying to find words to interrupt 
 her wdien she went on. " I think in that way 
 I could grow to love you very much. I think I 
 do love you already. But it isn't the way you 
 want me to. Not at all." 
 
 " How do you know ? " he demanded. He 
 crossed in one stride to where she sat, and put- 
 ting his hands almost roughly on her shoulders 
 repeated, " How do you know it won't turn to 
 the other if you give it a chance ? " 
 
 She looked up into his eyes. Her voice was 
 gentle again. " I know — the only way one can 
 know, Winthrop." 
 
 His hands dropped away from her, and he 
 began pacing the floor. 
 
 " It's all so different," she went on. " I sup- 
 pose that somewhere it starts from the same 
 place, but after that place it can't change. How 
 
186 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 do you love me ? " she demanded. " Would you 
 go on loving me just as much if I'd done some- 
 thing detestably v^rong, something so mean and 
 bad that you despised yourself for loving me ; 
 would it make you love me all the harder ? 
 Perhaps it would. But I love you because you're 
 nice to me, because you're brave and chivalrous 
 and gentle and good. But if you did something 
 wicked, not a brave bad thing, but a mean bad 
 thing, I'd be sorry and I'd stop loving you. I 
 wouldn't break my heart. I wouldn't wish I'd 
 done the thing myself to have saved you from 
 doing it." 
 
 She stopped, and turning in his stride he saw 
 her face buried in her hands, her body racked 
 with sobs, quivering. The last thought of his 
 own case fled with the sight. There could be no 
 comfort in words for a grief like that, but he 
 seated himself on the chair arm and again his 
 hand, gently this time, rested on her shoulder, 
 while with the other he stroked her hair, till the 
 caress, so cool, so brotherly, quieted her. When 
 at last he began to speak it was about something 
 else. 
 
 " Celia," he said, " what I've told you to-night 
 wasn't what I came to tell you. It was what 
 I promised myself I would not say. But when 
 I found myself with you liere, just ourselves, 
 just as it might all have been, sometime, I broke 
 
THE SPY 187 
 
 my promise. I came to tell you that I'm — 
 Well, I think I've found my work. When you 
 knew me in New York, it looked as though I 
 should never find it. But I can fight. I pulled 
 my commission out of the action at Port Royal. 
 I've stopped beating my head against a wall. 
 I'm doing something that I can do. I'd have 
 been happy at it if I could have forgotten just 
 one half hour. But I kept remembering how 
 white your face was, and tired, that afternoon. 
 I remembered every cruel, boyish word I'd said 
 when I found I'd been mistaken, and how when 
 you asked me to forgive you, I went away with- 
 out saying I did, or owning that the mistake and 
 the fault had all been mine. My head was full 
 of wild, foolish things when I went out to the 
 receiving ship that night, and it has seemed to 
 me ever since as though I had said them all 
 to you. I haven't been able to see your face 
 except as it looked that afternoon, nor to bring 
 back any of our happy days together without 
 having that one come in the way. And I've felt 
 as though I couldn't really face the world and 
 begin my new life, until you and I had buried 
 that. The only thing I've dreaded has been that 
 something might happen to me before I could 
 see you. But now it's said, and understood, too, 
 isn't it, Celia ? " 
 
 She had stopped crying by this time and was 
 
188 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 drying her eyes. "Yes," she said, "you were 
 good ; it was like you to come to tell me." Sit- 
 ting erect as she sat now brought her nearer to 
 him, but she seemed untroubled by it. She 
 settled her head more comfortably against his 
 arm and essayed a little laugh, as she said, 
 " You'll take away another wet, miserable pic- 
 ture of me if you remember how I look now." 
 
 He moved a little shyly away from her and 
 took his old chair. Then, by way of keeping 
 the talk going, he said, " Your brother's standing 
 a cold watch, I'm afraid. By the way, how in 
 the world did he know me ? " 
 
 " Know you ? " 
 
 " He called me by name. Don't you remem- 
 ber ? " 
 
 She shot him a quick, puzzled look, which 
 this time did not escape his attention ; then as 
 simply as possible she said, " I suppose he mis- 
 took you for Martin. He called you Captain." 
 
 " But how can he know Martin ? And any- 
 way it's nearly a year since Martin was in here 
 with the Cross^ and he called the name instantly. 
 We'll have to ask him about it." 
 
 He was not looking at her, and the mention of 
 his brother's name turned his mind in a new 
 direction. " I'd like to hear something about 
 the old man. Mother doesn't say anything about 
 him in her letters. And I've got something to 
 
THE SPY 189 
 
 make up there, too. He never told you, I sup- 
 pose, how I misunderstood him that day in 
 father's office ? " 
 
 With the question he looked up into her face. 
 
 " Celia ! " he cried, " what is it ? You know 
 something that I don't. There's a clew to all 
 this that I haven't got. Won't you tell me ? 
 You must tell me." 
 
 He knew, though, before she said the words. 
 The disconnected bits flashed into place in his 
 mind while he was waiting for her words, — the 
 letters from Nassau, the silence as to Martin and 
 his father. Harper's quick calling of his name and 
 Celia's surprise that he should be surprised at it. 
 
 " It was Martin who brought us through the 
 blockade. Your father and Mr. Odell own the 
 steamer between them. He is running it for 
 them." 
 
 " Martin," he said softly, " Martin ! " 
 
 He sank low in his chair, gazing in a brown 
 studv at the fire while she watched his face, 
 reading the thoughts that ran through his mind, 
 recognizing the anger, the shame, the pity, the 
 wonder as now one, now another, appeared. 
 Wonder was predominant. There could be no 
 mitigating motive for such a treason. Nothing 
 so generous, even, as the wish to avenge a private 
 injury at his country's expense ; nothing better 
 than the commonest, sordidest greed for gain. 
 
190 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 And even at that, it was no grand betrayal, once 
 for all, for a great prize. It was a treason by 
 way of trade! And — here was the wonder — 
 this traitor was his brother, Martin. 
 
 As Celia watched his face she waited for the 
 flash of intelligence that would come when he 
 should put together the two halves of her secret 
 that were both in his hands. After a while he 
 began to speak. 
 
 " Those chaps are brave enough, I know. We 
 ran one of them into a corner one night — just 
 before Port Royal, that was — and he took his 
 craft right across the shoal under fire and with a 
 falling tide, and got her off, too." 
 
 " That was Martin," she said ; " it was the 
 night he took us in ! " 
 
 " It was like him — that part of it," he com- 
 mented. " But why did they go into it ? Why 
 couldn't it have been something else ? Why 
 couldn't he have enlisted squarely in the rebel 
 army ? " (He did not notice his use of the word, 
 and she did not resent it.) " Why couldn't they 
 have done anything but trade in their country's 
 troubles ? It's the meanness of it ! " 
 
 The recurrence of the word did it. " Not a 
 brave bad thing, but a mean bad thing." He 
 remembered, and she saw the flash she had been 
 waiting for. 
 
 She met the quick, wondering look that fol- 
 
THE SPY 191 
 
 lowed it. " Yes," she said wearily, " you under- 
 stand it all, now." 
 
 Again it was his brother's name he repeated 
 slowly, thoughtfully. They sat for a long time 
 as they had sat before, he gazing at the fire, 
 remembering, pondering, wondering, and she 
 watching his face, not very hopefully, yet still 
 with a pathetic eagerness as though from him 
 might come some comfort. 
 
 At last he rose and took his steaming coat 
 from behind the stove. She helped him into it 
 silently. Then he turned and took both her 
 hands. 
 
 " It's a tangled skein, Celia," he said, <« but 
 not a broken one. I can't see my w^ay in it at 
 all, any more than you can. But I'm going 
 to believe that somehow our three lives will 
 straighten themselves out." 
 
 He kissed her two hands. " Good-by," he 
 said. " I hope that God w^ill bless you always." 
 
 " I don't want you to go," she cried, clinging 
 to his hands. " Hear the rain ! " 
 
 " It's my friend to-night. The harder it beats 
 and the stronger it blow^s, the better for me," 
 
 " Good-by. God bless 3^ou and keep you safe." 
 
 Harper's long watch was over. " It's a wild 
 night," he said as Winthrop came out on the 
 veranda. " You'd better take this cloak of 
 mine." 
 
192 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " Thank you," answered the other. " but you 
 know I'm travelling light. I may have to run 
 for it." 
 
 " My God ! " muttered Harper, " I'm glad I 
 don't know the pass for to-night. I believe I'd 
 turn traitor and tell it to vou if I did." 
 
 " I know the pass," said Winthrop. '< But I'm 
 too long-legged to be properly inconspicuous." 
 
 " They'll take you for your brother if they 
 see you, just as I did. You're very like. And 
 his ship is in to-day, you know, too. Well, good 
 luck to you ! " 
 
 They shook hands, and Winthrop strode away. 
 At the nearest corner Harper saw him turn west, 
 toward the river. 
 
 " I thought he'd head out for Masonborough," 
 he said to himself. 
 
 A man he knew a little came up just then 
 from the direction in which Winthrop had dis- 
 appeared, and stopped to speak to him. 
 
 " I hear you're off to-morrow," he said. "Wish 
 I had your luck. Who's that long-legged chap 
 I passed back there ? He looked familiar, but I 
 couldn't quite place him." 
 
 " Don't you know Carver, of the Caroline f " 
 
 " Oh, to be sure. But he's shaved his beard. 
 That's what misled me. Good night." 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 It must have been about ten minutes later 
 that Martin pushed back his chair from the table, 
 at the opposite side of which sat Mr. Odell, and 
 rose with the air of a man who has finished an 
 uncongenial task. " I'm glad we've done so w^ell 
 at it," he said. 
 
 " Well ! It's magnificent, my boy, and no 
 smaller word will do." 
 
 They had indeed found this blockade-running 
 trade incredibly profitable. When Mr. Odell 
 had accompanied the Caroline on her first adven- 
 turous run into Wilmington, it had been with 
 no intention of remaining for more than a week 
 or two at the most, long enough only to intro- 
 duce Martin among his correspondents in the 
 city and to get the business started. But once 
 ashore he had found himself in a veritable specu- 
 lators' paradise. If at sea Martin had been pres- 
 cient, wary, bold, Mr. Odell was all these things 
 among the dangerous currents of finance, where 
 Martin — who knew ? — might prove as easy a 
 prey to untrustworthy guides as he himself had 
 been to the pilot. Reasoning thus he had rented 
 a large building near the Caroline^ dock, which 
 
 o 193 
 
194 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 served as residence, warehouse, and office. There 
 were many others who had done likewise, though 
 few, if any, who proved so successful at it as he. 
 They were regarded by the loyal Southerners in 
 the city with a kind of horror, as birds of prey 
 who were feeding fat on the very entrails of the 
 Confederacy ; but they had much power and could 
 command with it a sort of consideration. Mr. 
 Odell was not very sensitive to their sentiments 
 so long as the easily manipulated market was so 
 kind to him, so long as every variation in the 
 wildly erratic price of gold left so much of it in 
 his pocket, so long as he could send such reports 
 to Mr. Carver at Nassau as the one he and Mar- 
 tin and a couple of clerks had just spent half the 
 night drawing up. 
 
 " By the way, I saw a friend of yours to-day," 
 Odell remarked casually, as Martin was leaving ; 
 "and in no very comfortable predicament, 
 either." 
 
 Martin would have let the first half of the 
 sentence go without comment, but the second 
 roused him. " What," he demanded, " what do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 " It was old Dearborn of your father's fleet. 
 
 He used to command the Centaur, didn't he ? 
 
 If 
 
 You must have known him well." 
 " What was the matter with him ? " 
 " He was one of a lot of Yankee prisoners, wait- 
 
THE SPY 195 
 
 ing to be sent down to Andersonville. They 
 got him in the cutting out up at Newbern, I 
 believe. There was another young sailor with 
 him, a Centaur man, but I didn't ask his name- 
 I only had a chance for a word with him." 
 
 " Andersonville," Martin repeated. Then — 
 " I've known him since I can remember. He 
 used to call me ' Captain ' when I was no higher 
 than that table. He's an old man to go to 
 a hell like that. I'd like — " Martin made 
 a thoughtful pause. "I'd like to do a little 
 cutting out on my own account, and carry him 
 off through the blockade to Nassau. He'd do 
 as much for me any day." 
 
 " Cutting out is hardly in your line, my boy," 
 said Odell, dryly. " You can't run with the hare 
 and the hounds too." 
 
 " I wonder," said Martin, " that he managed 
 to be in it at all. Semmes took his parole when 
 he took the Centaur^ and I didn't know there'd 
 been any exchange." 
 
 Odell made no reply, but not because he could 
 not have answered Martin's question. In the half 
 dozen words they had had time to exchange, the 
 old man had told him that he had not been 
 exchanged, that he was only waiting to be 
 recognized to pay the penalty of having violated 
 his parole. But a less shrewd man than Patrick 
 Odell would have seen the effect the revelation 
 
196 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 of this to Martin would be likely to have. He 
 regretted having mentioned the incident at all. 
 The young captain needed careful management. 
 He was worth it. He was the absolutely essen- 
 tial element in these enterprises, and his weight 
 in fine gold would not recompense his loss. 
 
 " It's very late,'' he said, glancing at his watch. 
 " Yes, half-past twelve. Off to bed with you ! " 
 
 Martin wished him an abrupt good night, and 
 a moment later was walking slowly toward the 
 Caroline's wharf. 
 
 The wharf was not well lighted, and as he 
 approached the gangway he was sharply chal- 
 lenged by the watchman's voice, " Who goes 
 there ? " and the man himself came quickly up 
 out of the shadows. 
 
 " I guess you know me," — turning so that the 
 light fell on his face. " Why, what's the matter 
 with you, man ? " 
 
 There was more than amazement in the man's 
 look, there was terror. "You've just gone 
 aboard, sir. I'd swear it if I was about to die, 
 you went aboard not five minutes ago. I saw 
 you as plain as I see you now. I saw^ you'd 
 shaved off your — Good God! You — you 
 were without your beard five minutes ago, sir." 
 
 "You've been asleep — that's plain enough, 
 anyway. Keep better watch than that for the 
 rest of the night." 
 
THE SPY 197 
 
 He strode across the gangway with a curt 
 nod that cut short the watchman's confused pro- 
 testations, mounted to the upper deck, and 
 was on his way through the saloon to his own 
 cabin when he encountered the steward, who 
 was sitting up waiting for his last orders for 
 the night. 
 
 Here again was an astonishment hardly less 
 than the watchman's. 
 
 "How did you get out of your cabin, sir? 
 I've been here since you went in five minutes 
 ago. I haven't had my eyes off the door." 
 
 " You've been asleep, I suppose," said Martin. 
 
 " I w^as asleep before you came aboard. I 
 didn't wake till just as you were going through 
 the door. But I'd swear I hadn't slept since." 
 
 Before he had finished speaking, Martin had 
 reached his cabin door, entered, and shut it 
 behind him. That some one had been there but 
 a moment or two before was evident enough. 
 The open window, large enough, though barely, 
 for egress, and the indentations in his bed 
 showed how he had escaped. 
 
 He looked quickly about the little room. 
 There had been no robbery. Everything was 
 quite as he had left it save that a large book had 
 been taken down from the shelf and lay on his 
 desk. A torn scrap of paper protruded from 
 its leaves. He whipped it out and read at a 
 
198 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 glance the single line which was scrawled across 
 it: — 
 
 ^'For GocTs sahe, old Tnan^ try to think what it 
 means. "^^ 
 
 There was no signature, but there needed none. 
 His brother's curiously characteristic hand could 
 not be mistaken. He tore the scrap to shreds 
 and crumpled them in his hand. 
 
 " Winthrop ? " he said, aloud, but very softly. 
 
 Then, leaving the cabin door open, he went 
 out into the saloon again. The steward was 
 still there. " Notice that I'm coming out this 
 time," said Martin. " No, there's nothing wrong, 
 and I don't want you for anything." 
 
 He descended to the main deck, and going to 
 the off-side side just abaft the paddle-box, looked 
 down into the water. A small gig which had 
 been made fast there was gone. He flung the 
 little scraps of paper abroad over the surface of 
 the water, made as if to go away, but changed 
 his mind and climbed over the rail instead. 
 Holding fast with one hand, he groped about in 
 the dark with the other, and presently found 
 what he expected, half the gig's painter ending 
 clean and square with w^hat must have been a 
 single slash of a sharp knife. He loosened it 
 swiftly, flung it too into the river, and stepping 
 back over the rail, returned to the upper deck 
 and his cabin. 
 
THE SPY 199 
 
 " Don't turn in just yet," he said to the 
 steward as he passed him. " I may want you 
 for something, after all." 
 
 He sat down at his desk and let his clasped 
 hands drop on the table before him while he 
 stared, sightless, at the little dressing mirror that 
 hung opposite him. 
 
 What did it mean ? 
 
 Clearly that Winthrop had been there. He 
 could have got into the city only as a spy or a 
 prisoner. What then ? Why did he come to 
 the Caroline f Not for shelter, for he had hardly 
 been aboard five minutes. He had been seen in 
 the streets, no doubt, had been mistaken for his 
 brother, and had used the mistake to help him in 
 getting off. And the single riddle of a message 
 he had scrawled and left for his brother's eye. 
 It was an appeal, all he had had time to write, 
 all he had dared to write lest it should fall into 
 other hands, but clearly an appeal for help. He 
 was out on the river now beyond help, except — 
 and Martin, the sweat standing out on his face, 
 almost gasped with relief as he got the clew — 
 except as Martin might delay and confuse 
 pursuit by assisting in the mistake as to their 
 identities for a few hours longer ! 
 
 How that was to be done was another ques- 
 tion. He leaned back in his chair, and, in his 
 perplexity, rubbed his hand in his close-cropped 
 
200 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 beard. He could see his face in the glass, and 
 the action gave him a hint. He remembered 
 the watchman's words, "You were without your 
 beard five minutes ago, sir." 
 
 He flung open the cabin door. " Steward," 
 he called. 
 
 The man had served with him only since the 
 Caroline had found her new name, but Martin's 
 long years at sea had not been wasted. He was 
 as confident of the steward's faithfulness and 
 devotion as if the man had been one of the 
 old Centaur's. 
 
 " Steward," he said, " for a day or two you 
 may see and be ordered to do some things you 
 don't know all the bearings of. You may think 
 you understand them when you don't. But 
 unless I'm mistaken in you, you'll do your duty 
 and not talk. When people ask you questions 
 they have a right to ask, you'll answer them, 
 and you'll tell the truth as far as you know it, 
 but not till then, and not then unless the people 
 have a right to know. I want you to begin 
 by shaving me." 
 
 " Shaving you, sir ! Shave your beard ! I 
 never tried above half a dozen times to shave 
 any one but myself in all my life ! " 
 
 "Well, bring your razor and a pair of scissors 
 and make the best job you can of it. And bear 
 a hand about it, please. I'm in a hurry." 
 
THE SPY 201 
 
 The operation was, considering the circum- 
 stances, got througli more or less success- 
 fully. Martin at least seemed to be satisfied 
 with the result, and his opinion on such a topic 
 might be taken as final. But the steward, in 
 spite of the warning that he might not under- 
 stand, was almost inclined to doubt his captain's 
 sanity when, after having repeatedly exhorted 
 him to hurrj^, after having with manifest haste, 
 though with great care, washed away the lather 
 and stanched his cuts, Martin suddenly became 
 again his leisurely, deliberate self. 
 
 " Tell the watchman, will you, that my gig 
 has broken adrift and gone down the river, and 
 that if he can find it to-morrow I'll pay him for 
 his trouble. That's all I'll want of you to-night, 
 I'm sure," he said. " You can turn in now as 
 soon as you like." 
 
 " You aren't going out anywhere ? " demanded 
 the steward. 
 
 " Not a bit of it. I'm going to bed. Oh, 
 you won't be able to figure it out. But you 
 will, I'm sure, be able to remember your instruc- 
 tions. Good night." 
 
 It was in no disloyalty to Martin that the 
 steward, convinced that he must have some mys- 
 terious errand that night, sat up till morning, 
 wide awake, listening with all his ears for some 
 sound which might give him a clew to the mys- 
 
202 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 tery. It was clear, unconquerable, human curios- 
 ity. His vigil had no reward, however, and 
 about dawn, quite worn out, he fell asleep. 
 
 The captain's reasoning had been good enough. 
 When a fugitive making his escape in a row- 
 boat leaves a clean-cut half of its painter behind, 
 in flat contradiction of the plausible excuse that 
 the boat had worked loose and drifted off, it 
 may be taken either that he is in a great hurry 
 or that he is not in the way of thinking of small 
 details. In either case one may reasonably ex- 
 pect to find the chase hot upon his heels. All 
 the while the steward had been shaving him, 
 Martin had been in instant expectation of hear- 
 ing the provost guard come tramping aboard 
 the Caroline. But once his beard had been made 
 away with, there was nothing to do but wait 
 for the file of soldiers who were coming to make 
 him prisoner. With that economy of force which 
 is instinctive with men accustomed to perils, he 
 tumbled into his bunk and slept the night out 
 as soundly as though nothing unusual could be 
 expected to interrupt it. 
 
 He was alarmed, on waking, to find that it 
 was morning and that nothing had happened. 
 He might, after all, have misunderstood the enig- 
 matic message, or the chase might have swept 
 right by him, undisturbed by the attempt to 
 leave a false scent behind. Winthrop might. 
 
THE SPY 203 
 
 hours ago, have been taken. Still there was 
 nothing he could do. His best course was still 
 to wait. 
 
 He sent out for the morning newspaper, but 
 it was, it seemed to him, ominously silent on 
 the subject of the night's events, and it was with 
 a very troubled mind that he sat down to break- 
 fast. But before he had finished the steward 
 came to him, and, with a tone full of perplexity 
 and apprehension, said that the commandant 
 wished to see him. 
 
 " Good ! " said Martin, cheerfully ; " show him 
 into my cabin." 
 
 Half a minute later he followed the officer 
 into the little room and begged him to sit down. 
 
 The commandant looked at him steadily for 
 a long moment before he accepted the invitation. 
 When he spoke, it w^as w^ith the hesitation of a 
 man deciding between different courses. 
 
 " Captain Carver," he said at last, " I have 
 a very tangled skein in my hands, and I've come 
 for your help in unravelling it. I'm sorry that 
 I must begin by asking you to tell me where and 
 how you spent last evening." 
 
 Martin had long been prepared with an an- 
 swer to that question, though he had not expected 
 that it would be propounded so politely. But he 
 took quite as long about giving the answer as 
 the other had taken over the question. Then he 
 
204 TKAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 spoke very deliberately. " I spent last evening, 
 all of it, with Mr. Patrick Odell, in his office." 
 
 The commandant was annoj^ed. " What you 
 say, sir, may very well be true, but if it is true, 
 why do you use that manner ? You speak as if 
 it were not true and you did not care to pretend 
 that it is." 
 
 " You can easily discover whether it is or not 
 by referring to Mr. Odell." 
 
 This was no better, for Mr. Odell, though a 
 power in the city and entitled to some con- 
 sideration, had too much interest in this case 
 to be a satisfactory witness. 
 
 " The matter is serious, Captain Carver," said 
 the commandant, sharply. '' There was a spy 
 in the city last night. He overpowered a soldier 
 on picket duty, was seen at various points about 
 the city, and was last seen coming down toward 
 this steamer ; several persons besides the soldier 
 himself have identified him more or less certainly 
 with yourself, remarking that you had shaved 
 your beard, as I observe you have. I trust you 
 may be able to clear yourself, for your own sake 
 of course, but more for the sake of those who 
 have the misfortune to be implicated with you 
 in the matter. I'm anxious to give you every 
 chance, every assistance in my power, if only 
 you will meet me frankly. But if you rely on 
 my regard for them to save you from the conse' 
 
THE SPY 205 
 
 quences of what you may have been doing last 
 night, you will rely too far." 
 
 The start which Martin could not repress at 
 the words " those who are implicated with you," 
 had not interrupted the commandant's speech, 
 nor even, it seemed, caught his attention. 
 
 " I've told you all that I can tell," said Martin, 
 in his natural manner. 
 
 " Then I must put you under arrest. Are you 
 willing to give me your word that you will not 
 try to leave this ship ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," said Martin. " I promise not to 
 leave this ship until you give me permission. 
 And I shall regard that promise as binding, 
 whether you see fit to place me under guard or 
 not." 
 
 The commandant took his leave, after a curt 
 good morning, and Martin was left to grapple 
 with his new problem. So Winthrop had made 
 the Townleys a visit, had allowed them, too, to 
 be entangled in the net thrown to catch him ! 
 Such a possibility had occurred once to Martin's 
 mind, but he had dismissed it at once as impos- 
 sible. But there could be no doubt of it now. 
 He knew as well as if the commandant had 
 spoken their names. 
 
 About the middle of the morning appeared an 
 extra edition of the newspaper, and Martin read 
 it eagerly. The first alarm had occurred at mid- 
 
206 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 night, when a picket was found to be missing. 
 A search was made for him ; but, as he had been 
 recently drafted, it w^as supposed until early 
 in the morning that he had deserted. But just 
 at sunrise he had been found in an abandoned 
 hut in the outskirts of the town, bound fast and 
 gagged. His story was that he had been sud- 
 denly and noiselessly set upon by a man of 
 gigantic size and strength, who had easily over- 
 powered him, and after threatening him with 
 instant death if he made a sound, had carried 
 him bodily to this hut, where he had tied him 
 up at leisure. He w^as very positive in his 
 identification of his assailant as a man well 
 known in Wilmington by reason of frequent 
 periodic visits he was in the habit of making to 
 the city through the blockade. The light was 
 very faint, and the man disguised by the absence 
 of the beard he ordinarily wore, but the picket 
 would admit no doubt as to his identity. 
 
 The article went on to say that the person 
 under suspicion had been seen about the streets 
 at a later hour by various persons, some of whom 
 had also remarked the absence of his beard, and 
 that he had finally been seen to return to his 
 ship. "An arrest," it added, "has in all prob- 
 ability already been made." 
 
 That was definite enough to be of real aid to 
 Winthrop, supposing he had not already made 
 
THE SPY 207 
 
 good his escape, but the thing Martin had dreaded 
 to find was not there. There was no reference, 
 however oblique, to the Townleys. 
 
 The early part of the day wore away slowly 
 for Martin. He had expected a visit from Mr. 
 Odell, but whether for reasons of his own or 
 for the commandant's reasons he stayed away. 
 A little after dinner he heard a low knock at his 
 door. 
 
 " May I come in ? " said a voice. 
 
 He flung the door open. " You ! " he said, 
 almost in a whisper, " here ? " 
 
 Celia's eyes were slow in rising to his face. 
 When they did there was no astonishment in 
 them, only a pathetic bewilderment. The Same 
 note was in her voice when she spoke. " I don't 
 understand," she said. 
 
 She did not take the chair he had placed for 
 her. When he had closed the door, she repeated, 
 " I don't understand. I know^ so little about it. 
 Do you know any more ? He was at our house 
 last night for a while — Winthrop, I mean." 
 
 It was a madly reckless thing — her coming to 
 see him. The commandant in allowing them all 
 so much liberty had very likely, Martin thought, 
 cherished a hope that they would help him solve 
 his mystery, if only he gave them rope enough, 
 but he could have had in mind nothing like this. 
 It made a situation, already bad enough, im- 
 
208 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 mensely worse. But with his first glance at her 
 he comprehended how completely overwrought 
 she was, how little mistress of herself. And he 
 would not have uttered a word of remonstrance 
 if her visit had condemned him to the gallows. 
 She seemed, however, to feel what was passing 
 in his thoughts, for before he answered, she 
 added : — 
 
 "I ought not to have come. But I read in 
 the papers about it ; and how he had come here. 
 And then the commandant came and said he 
 had already been arrested — and I had to know. 
 Did he confe here, and did they find him because 
 he came ? " 
 
 " They haven't found him, or I hope they 
 haven't. He was mistaken for me, it seems, 
 as he came this way, came aboard the Caroline 
 and escaped down the river in my gig that was 
 moored on the off-shore side of the ship. Then 
 the commandant came along this morning and 
 arrested me." 
 
 " He did come here ? And you saw him ? " 
 There was a new note of excitement in her 
 voice as she asked the questions, which Martin 
 could not understand. It was a moment, too, 
 before he saw that the pronoun referred to 
 Winthrop. 
 
 " He came aboard five minutes ahead of me, 
 it seems. No, I didn't see him. He left a note 
 
THE SPY 209 
 
 here on my table. That's how I knew he'd been 
 here." 
 
 " He left you a note," she said rather breath- 
 lessly, as though prompting him to go on. 
 
 " I couldn't make it out, exactly. It was very 
 short, and a good deal of a riddle. But I guess 
 I've done what he wanted me to. You see he'd 
 been mistaken for me, so I shaved off my beard to 
 help the mistake along. It's only good for a few 
 hours' delay at best, but a few hours may make 
 all the difference to him." 
 
 " And you're making them think you are the 
 spy ! " Her face flushed and her tired eyes 
 seemed to grow bright again. 
 
 "Not exactly. But when the commandant 
 called this morning I didn't give him much 
 satisfaction. So he ended up by putting me 
 under arrest. You said he came to see you this 
 morning. Can you tell me what he said ? " 
 
 " I hadn't told mother about it at all yet, 
 when he came. We didn't think we ought to 
 tell her last night, and to-day I was waiting till 
 after Harper had gone. It seemed better to do 
 it that way. But he came just after she'd said 
 good-by to Harper, before I had a chance to tell 
 her. It nearly killed her. He said there had 
 been a Federal spy in the city and that we were 
 suspected in connection with it. And he said 
 the man was already arrested." 
 
210 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " What did you tell him ? " 
 
 " I said we hadn't done anything wrong, but 
 there wasn't anything either of , us would tell 
 him, then. And then he went away." 
 
 This was not very intelligible to Martin. The 
 other person included in the " we " could neither 
 be Winthrop nor her mother. 
 
 He had a question on his tongue, but checked 
 it as he heard footsteps approaching the door, 
 the step of some one in a hurry. Then the door, 
 without any preliminary formalities, burst open, 
 and the person burst into the room. It was the 
 commandant. 
 
 His first words, addressed to Celia, might 
 have been an echo of Martin's own. " You ! " 
 he cried, " here ? " 
 
 He closed the door behind him. Then, " Are 
 you young people quite mad ? " he demanded, 
 " or are you trying to compel me to punish you 
 for last night's performance ? As for you " — he 
 turned to Martin — " your ruse can't be kept up 
 any longer. I know, absolutely, that you are 
 not the man who overpowered the picket, nor 
 the man who visited Mrs. Townley's last night. 
 I know that he, whoever he was, came here, to 
 this ship, that the watchman saw him, and that 
 if he is not concealed about here he has fled by 
 the river in the gig which your mate tells me is 
 missing. I have parties out looking for him 
 
THE SPY 211 
 
 who will search every swamp and thicket be- 
 tween here and Smithville, and unless he has 
 some means of getting off to sea we shall find 
 him. But that has nothing to do with your case. 
 One of you harbored that spy last night, and 
 the other assisted him to escape. The penalty 
 for these offences is extreme, and I want you to 
 realize it fully." 
 
 " We haven't done anything wrong, either of 
 us," said Celia, defiantly. '' We're not ashamed 
 of what we've done — we'd be ashamed if we 
 hadn't done it. And if you knew, you'd say so, 
 too. He wasn't a spy at all, really." 
 
 " Who was he in the first place ? — Oh, you 
 needn't be afraid to tell me his name. That 
 isn't what we shall catch him by." 
 
 "He is my younger brother," said Martin, 
 " Winthrop Carver, of the Federal navy." 
 
 " Lieutenant Carver," corrected Celia. The 
 quick look that passed between them, Martin's 
 of interrogation, Celia's of something like tri- 
 umph, did not escape the keen eye of the com- 
 mandant, though he did not know exactly what 
 to make of it. 
 
 "And you say he didn't come as a spy," he 
 proceeded ironically. " How did he come ? 
 With a flag of truce ? " He wondered that it 
 had not occurred to him before that a little 
 anger kindled in her against himself, would force 
 
212 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 the truth out of her reluctant mouth, when it 
 could not be drawn forth with threats of the 
 direst tortures. 
 
 " Of course he came as a spy. He was inside 
 our lines and not in uniform. But he didn't 
 come to spy." 
 
 " Why, then ? " 
 
 " He came to see me." 
 
 The commandant laughed shortly. Then, in- 
 tercepting a warning look Martin was directing 
 toward her, " Oh, your turn will come presently, 
 Captain. Don't interfere, please," he said. " And 
 so " — this to Celia again — " you tell me that 
 this Federal officer came ashore, broke through 
 our lines, took his life in his hands — good 
 Heavens, no ! he balanced it on the tip of a sin- 
 gle finger — just for an hour in your company? 
 I'm sorry to seem ungallant, but I can't take your 
 sweetheart's pretty compliments so literally." 
 
 " It wasn't a compliment. It wasn't to me 
 he said it. He gave his word to — " 
 
 She stopped short, her eyes wide with terror. 
 uOh! — Oh!" she breathed. "What have I 
 said? What shall I do?" 
 
 The appeal was to Martin, but it was not he 
 who answered. It seemed almost that he had 
 not heard. 
 
 " Tell the truth," said the commandant. " Tell 
 the truth if you value your brother's life, if you 
 value his honor." 
 
THE SPY 213 
 
 There was no triumph, in his tone, nor any 
 trace of the irony he had put into it to get the 
 girl's confession from her. It was very grave, 
 but very pitiful. 
 
 " Was he there when Mr. Carver came ? " he 
 went on. " And was it he who stood guard on 
 the veranda ? " 
 
 She looked at him wildly a moment, then 
 flung herself down before him, clasping his 
 knees. " Oh, he didn't do anything wrong, he 
 didn't truly." She did not voice her words at 
 all, but still spoke in a horrified whisper. " You 
 couldn't do anything to him ! He's just a boy ! 
 I'll tell you all of it, every word of it ! But you 
 must believe me ! " 
 
 " There, there, dear," said the commandant, 
 in evident distress, raising her gently. " I'll 
 believe you, of course. I knew your mother 
 when she was no older than you, and I'll be- 
 lieve you as I'd have believed her twenty-five 
 years ago, or as you believed your Yankee 
 sweetheart last night. There, there ! Take all 
 the time you want." 
 
 It was a little while before she could command 
 her voice, but she told, very minutely, all that 
 led up to Harper's lonely patrol on the veranda. 
 
 After she had finished, the commandant sat 
 a long time, silent and with bent head. When 
 at last he spoke, it was to Martin. 
 
214 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 "And what can you add to the story, Cap- 
 tain ? " he asked. 
 
 Martin seemed to force himself out of a pro- 
 found revery to the consideration of the ques- 
 tion. And even as he told his story, he spoke 
 absently, though he told it all. How he had 
 thrown the severed end of the boat's painter 
 into the river, how he had shaved his beard, 
 how he had sent the watchman on his quest of 
 the missing boat. 
 
 « You say he left a note for you. Can you 
 show it to me, or will you tell me what it 
 said ? 
 
 " I destroyed it, but I can repeat it. It 
 said, <For God's sake try to think what it 
 means.' There was no signature." 
 
 " That was all ? " 
 
 Martin nodded. 
 
 " And what did it mean ? " 
 
 " I thought I knew," said Martin, very slowly. 
 "I acted accordingly. But I'm not sure now 
 that I didn't misunderstand." 
 
 There was another long silence, broken at 
 last by the commandant. 
 
 "Well, well," he said, "this will bear sleep- 
 ing over. I'll remove your arrest. Captain, but 
 I'll ask you not to leave the city without my 
 permission. As for you, my dear," putting his 
 hand on Celia's head, "you've had about expe- 
 
THE SPY 215 
 
 riences enough for one twenty-four hours. You'd 
 better let me take you home to your mother." 
 
 They had left the cabin before Martin spoke. 
 " Celia," he said. 
 
 She stopped, and came back to the doorway, 
 the commandant walking on a little farther. 
 
 " Celia," said Martin, '' I think I understand 
 partly ; I don't want to talk about it now, but 
 may I come sometime and tell you? May I 
 come to-morrow night ? " 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 " Are you quite easy," the commandant asked 
 after they had walked several squares in silence, 
 " as to the state of your mother's health and 
 spirits ? I thought she looked pretty well pulled 
 down when I saw her this morning." 
 
 " She's been working too hard," said Celia, a 
 little surprised at the abruptness of the question. 
 
 " I asked about her health and spirits, but I 
 must confess I was thinking more about the lat- 
 ter. Isn't there anything besides the work which 
 makes it hard for her in these days ? " 
 
 " You mean the things they have saying about 
 us, I suppose," she said a little impatiently. 
 " Of course that has been hard, but it can't be 
 helped. People have been very silly, but I sup- 
 pose they will get tired of gossiping about us 
 some day. Till then w^e'll have to console our- 
 selves w^ith knowing how silly it all is." 
 
 " It may have been silly once," said the com- 
 mandant, curtly, " but after last night — " 
 
 " Last night ? Do they know about that ? " 
 
 " Where have your eyes been since we left the 
 Caroline f Busy wath pretty fancies of one sort 
 and another, no doubt, but if they'd been as wide 
 
 216 
 
THE SPY 217 
 
 awake as they generally are, you wouldn't have 
 asked the question." 
 
 She had, indeed, as often lately, been quite 
 abstracted from her present surroundings, but 
 now" she was aware that people had been staring 
 at her. Some scraps of talk that had lodged in 
 her ears now came to her full consciousness and 
 brought an angry color into her cheeks. 
 
 " It w^ill be hard for her," she said. 
 
 " I wonder — " the commandant found his 
 suggestion a hard one to make and he hesitated 
 for the least irritating w^ords in which to dress 
 it — "I wonder if it wouldn't be wise to stand 
 out of the storm until it blows over, and if it 
 wouldn't blow over quicker if you did, — if you 
 went back to Nassau, let us say, for a month or 
 two." 
 
 " No ! " she cried hotly. " They can think 
 what they please and do wdiat they please. We 
 haven't done anything wrong, not a thing in the 
 world that we're ashamed of, or that we wouldn't 
 do over again to-morrow. And as for the busy- 
 bodies, we'll just let them buzz." 
 
 "Listen, young lady." The commandant's 
 tone was peremptory. " Listen to a little common- 
 sense. It may have been the busybodies who 
 started it, but after last night's escapade there's 
 only one thing that people with sense enough 
 to add two and tw^o can think. Now, it's all 
 
218 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 very well for a young girl who has a handsome 
 young lover — " 
 
 " He isn't," said Celia. " At least — you don't 
 understand." 
 
 " Hm," mused the commandant. " Well, in 
 any case, yoxi seem to have something that oc- 
 cupies your mind pretty well. It may be easy 
 for you to snap your fingers at what people will 
 say, but for your mother to be branded as a 
 traitor, for her to see her old friends, people who. 
 have been her friends since she was no older than 
 you, refusing to look at her, shrinking away from 
 her as though she were contaminated — " 
 
 " The brutes ! " she whispered. '« But she'll 
 think as I do. When they see how they're mis- 
 taken, and when they come and say they were 
 mistaken and beg our pardon, then we'll go and 
 be glad to go. But we won't run away — we 
 won't ! That would be confessing we'd done 
 wrong. And we won't disgrace father and Harper 
 just to save ourselves a little discomfort. We 
 haven't done wrong, and some day they'll see it 
 and be sorry." 
 
 " I believe," he said, " that you didn't mean 
 to do wrong, but let me tell you, my dear, that 
 the whole affair last night was incredibly, almost 
 criminally, foolish, and if you did it all again as 
 you just now said you would, it would be down- 
 right criminal, and no mincing words about it. 
 
THE SPY 219 
 
 It may all end happily this time. This Yankee 
 madcap of yours may get off. I almost hope he 
 will — not that I won't go right on trying to 
 catch him ; that's what war means. But he's 
 had incredible luck, and thanks to his brother he 
 has a long start, and he may make it good. But 
 I suppose he's mad enough to try to come back. 
 Judging from his other performances, he might 
 do it well enough. If he does, the chances are 
 a thousand to one that we'll get him. Do you 
 know what that would mean ? Do you know 
 what would have to happen, and what would 
 happen to you if you tried to shelter him or get 
 him oif ?" 
 
 He could feel her hand quivering where it 
 rested on his arm. " There, there, dear," he said, 
 " think it over. Ask your blockade-running 
 Yankee captain what he thinks about it. He's 
 got common-sense enough for all of you. Ask 
 him if he doesn't think he'd better take you back 
 to Nassau with him." 
 
 They had reached her gate, and with a brief 
 word of farewell he left her, not less indignant 
 with him, for the moment, for all she compre- 
 hended how great a debt she owed him or that 
 she unwillingly suspected that there might be 
 more than a grain of truth in what he said. It 
 was irritating, at best, to have one's heroics 
 brought about one's ears in this sort of way, and 
 
220 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 as she walked up the path towards the house, 
 she said to herself that he'd see that even if they 
 were all silly that they had minds of their own, 
 and if he wanted them to leave town he'd better 
 give orders to that effect in so many words. 
 
 But her mother opened the door for her, and 
 the sight of the almost feverish eagerness in her 
 face brought her out of this train of thought in 
 a flash. 
 
 " It's all right, Mummy," she cried ; " as 
 right as possible." 
 
 " Tell me all about it as quickly as you can," 
 said Mrs. Townley ; and then, unconscious that 
 she was delaying the recital, she went on, "I'm 
 so glad you've come back. I'd begun to worry 
 for fear Harper might be concei'ned in it. That 
 was silly of me, wasn't it, dear ? But you're 
 quite sure he's not, aren't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, he's clear," she said, " and we're clear, 
 and Winthrop isn't caught at all and they think 
 he'll get off, and Martin isn't under arrest any 
 more." 
 
 « Martin ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'd forgotten you didn't know all about 
 it. It seems so long ago." And then, bright- 
 eyed, bright-cheeked, she told her mother the 
 story, — told it as she had once before told her 
 a story of the captain of the Southern Cross, 
 proudly, as though he belonged to her. 
 
THE SPY 221 
 
 Her mother made no comment when she had 
 finished, and she herself sat silent awhile. Then 
 she added, a little shyly, " He's coming to see 
 us to-morrow night." 
 
 Looking up for some reply, she noticed what 
 her absorption in her story had kept her from 
 seeing before, how old her mother's face looked, 
 how drawn, as if with physical pain. "What is 
 it ? " she cried. She slipped her arm around her 
 waist and drew her down on the sofa beside 
 her. 
 
 " I know," she said. " You're working your- 
 self to death, and worrying too, and I've been 
 a beast and I've put all my worries off on your 
 shoulders, as though you hadn't enough of your 
 own. But we'll do better after this. Mummy. 
 Did you go to the sewing-circle to-day ? — - Why, 
 Mummy ! " 
 
 " Oh, don't ask me about it, dear. You'll be 
 happier not to know, and I'll be happier not to 
 tell it. But Celia," — and her voice had a note 
 of terror in it — " what can w^e do ? It wasn't 
 only there, it was in the streets, it was every- 
 where. Celia, I'll never, never go out of that 
 door again, not till the war is over. I don't 
 think I can bear it. I think it will kill me." 
 
 There was a strangeness to the girl in the 
 realization that it was her own support, her 
 refuge, her mother, who lay quivering in her lap. 
 
222 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 to be comforted, but there was a strange sweet- 
 ness about it, too. She was surprised to find 
 how cool she was, how^ quiet her hands were as 
 they stroked the brown-gray head. 
 
 " It won't last forever, mother dear. People 
 forget. And after all, we know — " 
 
 " It's not the people, it's not what they say 
 that's the worst of it," said her mother, brokenly. 
 " If I could be sure — Celia — " and her voice 
 vibrated with a strange intensity — " Celia, are 
 you sure that we are right, that the South is 
 right ? " 
 
 " No," the girl answered calmly. " I've tried 
 to, I've tried with all my might. And then I 
 pretended I was sure so hard that I almost be- 
 lieved it. But when Harper asked me that, last 
 night, I had to tell him that I wasn't." 
 
 " You told Harper ! And he said — What did 
 he say, Celia ? " 
 
 There was a moment's silence. " I think he 
 understood," said the girl, deliberately. 
 
 " Mother," she went on, after a little silence. 
 " Mother dear, don't you think perhaps we'd 
 better go away ? " 
 
 " Where could we go ? " 
 
 " Perhaps they'd forget sooner if we went 
 away. We could hardly do anything here that 
 wouldn't make them suspect us all the more. 
 They won't let us help any more, I suppose, at 
 
THE SPY 223 
 
 the hospital or by making things. But when 
 it's over they'll understand better, I hope." 
 
 " But where could we go ? " her mother re- 
 peated. " It would only be worse anywhere 
 else." 
 
 " I mean go away altogether. Go to Nassau, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " I don't know," said her mother, wearily. 
 " My head seems to be wrong somehow. I can't 
 think any more to-day." 
 
 It became increasingly evident as the evening 
 wore on that Mrs. Townley had pushed even her 
 great endurance a little too far. Celia knew that 
 it could be no new strain that had broken her, 
 but one she had been carrying a long while, 
 one that any vision less self-centred than her 
 own had been during these last months must 
 have seen. But with the sting of this self-re- 
 proach there came to the girl the glad, proud 
 resolve that now, at last, she would lighten it, 
 bear it all herself, not make it heavier. They 
 played a desultory game of cribbage after sup- 
 per, but before long, with gentle compulsion, 
 Celia put her mother to bed. 
 
 The girl herself was well worn out after her 
 twenty-four hours of intense experience, and 
 when her mother had fallen asleep, and she had 
 sat for half an hour in the silent house, trying 
 to read, something like homesickness crept over 
 
224 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 her. The sense that she could no longer cuddle 
 her head, child-fashion, in her mother's bosom 
 and be comforted came as acutely as a stab of 
 pain. 
 
 " Don't you dare cry ! " she said to herself, 
 defiantly, as she was preparing to follow her 
 mother to bed. " You've cried quite enough 
 lately to last all the rest of your life. And if 
 you haven't learned to walk alone yet it's time 
 you did." 
 
 And yet, was she walking quite alone ? Was 
 there not a sense that some one else could help 
 her? Some one strong enough to carry any load 
 of trouble as easily as he had carried old John 
 Carver in his arms that day when they had the 
 news of Bull Run, some one brave enough not 
 only to do but to wait, to steam slowly along 
 under fire, taking soundings. It was strange the 
 way this old feeling had taken possession of her 
 again. Nothing had been explained. He was 
 still a traitor. Yet now, at last, she believed 
 with Winthrop that the skein would come un- 
 tangled. " Ask your blockade-running Yankee 
 what he thinks about it." The words had 
 offended her when the commandant had said 
 them, but she repeated them now to herself with 
 a little sigh of contentment. " I will ask him 
 to decide it when he comes to-morrow night — 
 to-morrow night." And with that she fell asleep. 
 
THE SPY 225 
 
 It was not to be to-morrow night, however. 
 In the morning Celia woke to find her mother 
 in a fever, unmistakably ill. She sent their 
 one servant after the doctor, and awaited his 
 arrival rather nervously. He told her, however, 
 that there was nothing to be seriously alarmed 
 about. They must keep her quiet for two or 
 three days. " She really needs a long rest, 
 though, not so much for her body as for her 
 mind," he concluded. " Don't let her think any 
 more than you can help for a long time ; keep 
 her diverted. And for a day or two, until this 
 fever goes down, keep her absolutely quiet. It's 
 important." 
 
 After he had gone she sat down to write a 
 note to Martin. She told him of her mother's 
 condition, and that, because of it, she must not 
 ask him to come that night. So far the note 
 had flowed easily enough off from her pen. 
 Then, " I am very sorry," she wrote, " and I 
 hope that by to-morrow night I can see you for 
 a little while, if you can come then." She 
 hesitated therCo The note was done, all but 
 the signature, but that — She knew how 
 she wanted to sign it, and with a quickly 
 intaken breath she wrote " Celia " under the last 
 line. 
 
 There ! She had spoiled it. And note-paper 
 was already almost as scarce as bank-notes in 
 
226 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 the Confederacy. It became, it may be added, 
 a deal scarcer before Fort Fisher fired its last 
 gun. But no, this note could be saved after all. 
 She could write " sincerely " before " Celia," and 
 " Townley " after it, and it would be as decorous 
 as possible. She dipped her pen in the home- 
 made ink. Of course she must do it. He had 
 only called her «' Celia " once in all his life with- 
 out putting a " Miss " before it. But before she 
 tried to write it the ink had dried on her pen. 
 
 She heard her mother in the next room stir- 
 ring uneasily, waking from a feverish slumber. 
 She dropped the pen, folded the bit of paper as 
 it was, and sealed it. Then she went in to her 
 mother. 
 
 That day, passed, almost every moment of it, 
 at the invalid's bedside, was almost as good for 
 Celia as it was for her mother. While Mrs. 
 Townley slept, as she did through many hours, 
 Celia read an old novel ; when she waked they 
 talked about old times or played cribbage to- 
 gether. The only break in these employments 
 was the return of the servant who had taken 
 Martin's note, with his reply that he would 
 come to-morrow evening. A week ago a day 
 like this would have tortured her, but the tem- 
 pestuous twenty-four hours just passed seemed 
 to have w^orked a transformation, seemed to have 
 left her some one else. The old, unhappy restless- 
 
THE SPY 227 
 
 ness was gone, and the new contentment was 
 strangely sweet by contrast. 
 
 The next day began somewhat more event- 
 fully, but they were all events of a pleasant 
 sort. Mrs. Townley was much better, to begin 
 with, was almost her old self again, it seemed. 
 Then the morning's mail brought a note from 
 Harper, and the morning's newspaper, confess- 
 ing that it had been misled by a most extraor- 
 dinary chain of circumstances into suspecting 
 Captain Martin Carver of having been the spy, 
 now formally withdrew its charges, stated that 
 new evidence had placed him entirely above 
 suspicion, and offered him its apologies and con- 
 gratulations. It added that though search for 
 the spy was still being kept up, it was generally 
 though regretfully admitted that he had, in all 
 probability, already made good his escape to the 
 blockading fleet. 
 
 Harper's note had given Celia an idea, and 
 immediately after their midday dinner she pre- 
 pared to put it into execution. 
 
 " I think, dear," she said to her mother, " that 
 if you can spare me half an hour, I'll go and see 
 Dolly." 
 
 " Do you want to go ? " her mother asked, a 
 little nervously. " Won't people — aren't there 
 any staring at the house as they were that 
 day ? » 
 
228 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " If there are," she laughed, " I hope they may 
 see enough to reward their pains." 
 
 For all that, before she reached the Sherwins' 
 house, she was hurrying faster than she had 
 meant to hurry and her face was flushed with 
 anger. 
 
 It was Dolly herself who opened the door 
 and who tried hard to cloak her surprise under 
 her dignity when she saw who her visitor was. 
 Celia slipped inside the door without waiting for 
 the rather tardy invitation. 
 
 Dolly closed the door behind her and then, 
 drawing her dignity a little tighter about her, 
 waited. Celia was looking at her silently. 
 Something not quite a smile was on her lips ; 
 something not quite an appeal was in her eyes. 
 " Dolly ! " she said. 
 
 The cloak fell away. "Oh, Celia, Celia, I'm 
 so glad you've come back." 
 
 " I was a beast," said Celia. " I didn't 
 know it, but I was — to mother, and to you 
 and Harper. We had a note from Harper 
 this morning. I thought perhaps you'd like to 
 see it." 
 
 " I would, very much." 
 
 " Oh, you little hypocrite ! " laughed Celia, 
 drawing her up close in a tight hug and kissing 
 her burning face. " You'd like to hear from him, 
 wouldn't you? As though you hadn't a great 
 
THE SPY 229 
 
 long letter of your own. Yes, you have. I can 
 hear it crackle this minute. Now tell me about 
 it, instantly." 
 
 It was a good deal more than a half hour they 
 spent together, but at last Celia said she must go 
 back. " Mother's not well. She's been having a 
 bad time lately. You know about it, of course. 
 I think, Dolly, that perhaps we'll go away, go 
 back to Nassau, I mean, or to some place like 
 that. I don't believe she can stand it here after 
 these last few days." 
 
 Dolly's eyes were big with questions, and 
 Celia knew what they were as well as if they 
 had come to her lips. 
 
 " Dolly," she said, " I couldn't tell you quite 
 all of it — yet, but if you w^ant me to, I'll tell 
 you almost all." 
 
 " You needn't tell me anything, unless you want 
 to." 
 
 " Some day," said Celia, " you shall know all 
 about it ; every word. That will be better, 
 won't it ? But Dolly, whatever you hear, or 
 have heard, you'll believe me, won't you, that 
 we haven't done anything wrong ? We haven't 
 done anything that Harper doesn't know about, 
 and that he doesn't think was right." 
 
 " He can think w^hat he pleases," said Dolly, 
 with splendid independence. " I'll believe you 
 always, Celia, and — and I always have. They 
 
230 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 will say things if you go away. But then they'll 
 say them anyw^ay." 
 
 She kissed Celia as if this was, already, their 
 parting. " And I'll just tell them," she added, 
 " that they'd better not try to say them to me." 
 
 The rest of the afternoon wore away rather 
 slowly, but the twilight came at last, and Celia 
 slipped off to her own room, to get ready, she 
 said, for supper. She was a good while about 
 it, and when she returned, canying her lighted 
 candle with her, her mother uttered a little 
 exclamation and then laughed softly, a laugh 
 that had more mirth in it than Celia had heard 
 from her lips in many weeks. 
 
 Celia blushed, but she smiled too. Then, 
 " Will he think it's very silly of me. Mummy ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 Her mother only laughed again, but this 
 seemed to be answer enough for the girl. " I 
 should think one might be allowed to look 
 respectable once in a while," she said. 
 
 To the more enthusiastically loyal all through 
 the South, it seemed unpatriotic to buy any but 
 the sternest necessities of the blockade-runners. 
 There was not much room for cargo in these 
 slim, shallow craft. At best their visits were 
 irregular and precarious, and it followed that 
 every pair of high-heeled slippers meant one less 
 pair of soldier's boots, every bit of lace one less 
 
THE SPY 231 
 
 blanket, every vanity v^hatever one less necessity 
 for the v^ant of which the soldiers were suffering. 
 So, even for such luxuries as coffee, sugar, wheat 
 flour, shoes, stockings, clothing generally, one 
 found or made at home something that w^ould 
 serve as a substitute. And if one ventured to 
 wear a pair of commercially manufactured 
 gloves, for example, " Oh, you've run the block- 
 ade," was the phrase in which the fact was 
 noted. There was an implication in it one did 
 not wholly like to hear. 
 
 But Celia had " run the blockade " in person, 
 and it could be forgiven to her — or if not it was 
 out of clear envy — that her shoes were of kid 
 and not of canvas tacked upon wooden soles, 
 that she wore white silk stockings, and that 
 all together she looked as fluffy and fresh as any 
 of her sisters had looked a year ago. 
 
 She had dressed to-night in the same pink 
 gown she had worn at Mr. OdelFs dinner in 
 Liverpool. " I keep getting thinner and thinner," 
 she observed, looking critically at her bare 
 shoulders. '' If it goes on much longer, I'll have 
 to wear dresses clear up to my chin." 
 
 " You look all the better for a bone or two," 
 said her mother. '' You look lovely. I feel like 
 kissing you — myself." 
 
 " Mother ! " 
 
 She intended, it seemed, to make a stately 
 
232 TEAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 exit, but thought better of it, and coming over 
 to the bed laid both her hands on Mrs. Townley's 
 shoulders. " You're well," she said. " You can't 
 impose on me another minute. I'm going to 
 make you come down and see him yourself." 
 
 She did not carry out her threat, however. 
 Half-past seven saw Mrs. Townley already set- 
 tled for the night and Celia in the sitting-room, 
 with a bit of sewing to occupy her hands, wait- 
 ing for Martin. It was another ugly night, much 
 such a night as the one through w^hich his 
 brother had come to see her ; but now it seemed 
 to her that the rattle of wind and rain with- 
 out served only to make the half-lit room more 
 cheerful. 
 
 She was so happy in anticipating his coming 
 that she had taken it for granted that his mood 
 would be the same as hers, that the torturing 
 strain of his late anxieties and fears would by 
 now have relaxed as her own had done. And, 
 curiously, she was not disappointed. 
 
 For the first few minutes, indeed, after they 
 had drawn close to the fire, he had seemed to her 
 haggard, grave, preoccupied, but presently he 
 threw off this mood as he had thrown off the 
 great wet ulster which had enveloped him when 
 he came in out of the storm. He settled back 
 more easily in his chair, and the deep, drawn 
 lines in his face slackened. 
 
THE SPY 233 
 
 She echoed the movement with one of her 
 own, hitched her low chair a little nearer the 
 fire and a very little nearer his, leaned forward 
 in it, resting her elbows on her knees, her chin 
 in her hands, and drew a little sigh of content- 
 ment. " There," she said. 
 
 With that their talk began to flow easily, 
 drifting back to old times, to the old days on the 
 Southern Cross. From there Celia led it back 
 further, into his stormy boyhood, interspersing 
 now and then, when the contrast struck her 
 forcibly, tales of her own childish experiences, 
 but always leading it back again to himself, 
 demanding with an eagerness hard for him to 
 understand more of his stories of the sea. She 
 seemed to be following out a train of thoughts 
 of her own, to which he had not the clew. 
 
 " And you did that ! " she interrupted in the 
 middle of one of his narrations. "But you knew 
 it was wrong. You knew it might wreck the 
 ship." 
 
 " That wasn't my affair. I was a common 
 sailor. He was the officer of the watch." 
 
 " But you had a right to have common-sense. 
 Why didn't you go to the captain and tell 
 him — " 
 
 He laughed rather grimly. " I never was 
 flogged myself," he said, "but I've seen a man 
 given a taste of the rope for less than that." 
 
234 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " Do they whip men ? " she asked, wide-eyed. 
 
 " Not often, now." 
 
 " What different worlds we've lived in," she 
 said thoughtfully after a little silence. " I've 
 never minded any one, really, in all my life, or 
 not since I was a little girl. Mother would tell 
 me she thought it best, perhaps, and she'd al- 
 ways tell me why, and I'd do what she wanted 
 me to do because I liked to please her. Nobody 
 ever ordered me — but Harper." Her laugh 
 told well enough what sort of obedience those 
 orders had had. " But you, you used to do 
 things just because people said to do them." 
 
 " I do yet," he corrected. " Most of us have 
 to obey somebody all our lives. It may not be 
 the boatswain, but whether it's he or the cap- 
 tain or the owners, it comes to the same thing." 
 
 " But the owner, when you were captain, was 
 your own father." 
 
 " Oh, we're father and son. But we're owner 
 and captain, too. And the first doesn't make 
 any difference about the second." 
 
 That, too, made her thoughtfully silent for 
 a little. She roused herself with a different 
 subject. 
 
 « Martin," she asked, " do you think we ought 
 to go away, mother and I ? " 
 
 He had already thought that out, and he had 
 an answer for her, but he took a moment as if 
 
THE SPY 235 
 
 in consideration, just to enjoy the sound of his 
 name on her lips. It was the first time she had 
 used it. Winthrop had been " Mr. Winthrop " 
 from the first ; that had been necessary to dis- 
 tinguish him from his father. But Martin she 
 had always, half playfully, called " Captain," 
 when she used any form of address at all. 
 
 "Yes, I think you ought," he answered at 
 last. 
 
 " We don't want to. We'll do it if it's best, 
 of course, but — you wouldn't want to run away 
 yourself, would you, with people talking as 
 they talk about us ? Not until you'd shown 
 them they were wrong." 
 
 He used the same argument that the com- 
 mandant had called up to clinch the matter. 
 
 " You know Winthrop as well as I do — better, 
 I suppose. Aren't you afraid he may come back 
 if you stay here ? He won't know, of course, 
 how close they were on his heels, nor that his 
 visit involved you at all. If he did come back, 
 it's hardly possible that he could get off again. 
 You want to think what it would mean to you, 
 if — " 
 
 She looked at him quickly, no less puzzled by 
 the words than by the tone in which they were 
 spoken. 
 
 They had heard no approaching steps outside, 
 and were both a little startled by a quick, ner- 
 
236 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 vous little rat-tat on the door. She opened it, 
 he standing close beside her. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, peering out into the dark. 
 " Mr. Odell ! Come in." 
 
 With all her training, with the Southern tradi- 
 tion of unquestioning hospitality she had always 
 had about her, she could not manage to get into 
 her tone the warmth of genuine invitation. 
 " You must be dreadfully wet," she went on, 
 doing a little better. " How good of you it 
 was to come on such a night ! " 
 
 " It is a bit nasty," he said, as Martin helped 
 him out of his mackintosh. 
 
 " So you're here," he went on, addressing 
 Martin, when they were all seated. " I thought 
 you always tried to sleep for about three days 
 before you started out." 
 
 " Pve still time for sleep enough," the captain 
 answered. 
 
 " How would you like that sort of life. Miss 
 Townley? I don't see how men live at it at all. 
 I hope your mother is quite well," he concluded. 
 
 Celia informed him in brief of her mother's 
 condition, and prophesied how sorry she would 
 be to have missed his call. 
 
 " I am much concerned to hear she's ill," he 
 said. " I trust it's not serious. Nothing has hap- 
 pened, no bad news from the front, or anything 
 of that sort, to bring on the attack ? " 
 
THE SPY 237 
 
 "No," Celia told him. She was overtired, 
 that was all. 
 
 With both the young people wondering why 
 he had come, and wishing that he would go, it 
 was really no wonder that Mr. Odell's talk did 
 not prosper. They did not mean to be rude to 
 him, indeed it was evident that they were trying 
 their best not to be, but it was up-hill work. 
 His social perceptions were as quick as those 
 which stood him in such good stead in a com- 
 mercial w^ay, and he was perfectly aware that in 
 his present position he was an unpleasant inter- 
 ruption ; that, whatever had been the thread of 
 their talk it would not be taken up again till he 
 was gone. That alone, though it is a common 
 enough experience, is always irritating, but it 
 was only half the trouble with Mr. Odell. If he 
 was an interruption to Martin, Martin was an 
 obstacle to him. In Martin's presence his errand 
 to the Townleys' house was a little difficult to 
 broach. 
 
 He w^as in the habit of finding situations easy 
 to manage, and the evident impossibility of 
 managing this one put him out of temper. 
 
 " You may remember, Martin, my speaking of 
 having seen Captain Dearborn a prisoner here on 
 his way to Andersonville. Well, I learned to-day 
 that he and that sailor who was with him are 
 here in the city jail at Wilmington. It seems 
 
238 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 that there was something irregular about their 
 exchange, — their foi'mer exchange, I mean ! " 
 
 He had the satisfaction of seeing that he had 
 stung Martin out of his revery at last. 
 
 " What do you mean by irregularity about his 
 exchange ? Was there any exchange at all ? " 
 
 " I heard very indirectly about it. I really 
 don't know any more than that." 
 
 Martin asked no more questions, but sat frown- 
 ing heavily over the news ; and Celia, who chose 
 to ask the questions that occurred to her of him 
 on another occasion, was silent, too. 
 
 So again it was Mr. Odell who launched a 
 new topic, but this time it was in a different 
 manner, the manner of one who knows exactly 
 what he is going to do. He had taken the bull 
 by the horns. He was coming to the point. 
 
 " I'm afraid a good many of us have our 
 romantic moments. Miss Townley. Martin, here, 
 when I told him that Captain Dearborn was a 
 prisoner, wanted to ' cut him out and carry him 
 off to Nassau.' And this escapade of Winthrop's, 
 for I suppose, of course, it was Winthrop, was 
 as madly romantic as possible. I've even heard 
 that, not content with paying Martin a visit, he 
 came to see you, also." 
 
 She colored vividly and drew herself up a 
 little straighter, but made no reply, although 
 his pause had invited it. 
 
THE SPY 239 
 
 " Miss Celia," he said, " I don't want to pry 
 into your affairs or into Martin's, here, or into 
 Winthrop's, wherever he may be. I'm sm-e there 
 is a great deal more to that story than I know, 
 but I'm not concerned in it, except in so far as 
 it may affect me personally, or as it may affect 
 our business here, Mr. Carver's and mine. But 
 I hear a good deal, one way and another, about 
 town, and I've heard a good deal in the last dsiy or 
 two to make me rather anxious as to the part 
 you may have had in this adventure. I only 
 hear what people think — I don't know how 
 much or how little of it may be true. But I 
 came to-night for one thing, — to ask if you'd 
 thought of going away, by way of Nassau, I 
 mean." 
 
 " Why do you want us to go away, Mr. Odell ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " It's on your own account, of course. I 
 thought possibly — " 
 
 Martin was listening to something, to some 
 sound out of doors, apparently, which it puzzled 
 him to account for, and Mr. Odell, rather glad 
 of the diversion, stopped to listen, too. In a lull 
 between two great gusts of wind they heard it 
 plainly. 
 
 A human noise is almost always perfectly dis- 
 tinguishable from any other sort. There is almost 
 always, if it be repeated, a more or less obvious 
 
240 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 rhythm about it. But this sound, like a patrol of 
 unsteady feet, lacked that quality. It was coming 
 nearer now. The feet, if they were human feet, 
 were coming up the steps. There was a thud 
 against the door, and then something like, but, 
 because of this same lack of rhythm, strangely 
 unlike, the knock of a hand on the panels. 
 
 Martin was at the door before the others had 
 fairly risen from their chairs. He turned the 
 knob, but it moved stiffly. The man, or what- 
 ever it was on the other side, was holding it. 
 And as he opened the door into the room, the 
 man, somehow, came in with it. 
 
 Then, in a flash, Martin's right arm shot 
 around him, and lifted him bodily, clear of the 
 path of the door, which his left hand in the 
 same inappreciable period of time thrust to and 
 locked. At the first grip of his arm the man 
 had begun to struggle, but until the lock was 
 shot home Martin held him with his one arm. 
 Then with both arms, that could be gentle 
 because they were so strong, he held him stiU. 
 
 " Winthrop, old man, don't you know me ? " 
 he said. 
 
\ 
 
 \s 
 
 *"Winthrop, old man, don't you know me? 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 " We must be quick," said Celia, breathlessly. 
 " They may have seen him come in. We must 
 do something quickly." 
 
 But what ? There was a silence long enough 
 to be measured by minutes, after Martin had 
 carried him, quite inert after his momentary 
 struggle, to the sofa and laid him there. Mar- 
 tin sat on the edge of it, one hand on his shoulder, 
 the other thrust beneath the bosom of his wet 
 flannel shirt. Celia stood close beside, and Mr. 
 Odell a little farther off, holding by the back of 
 a chair and swaying thoughtfully to and fro. 
 
 How in the name of wonder he came to be 
 there, how in his condition he had come through 
 the picket line, had wandered unnoticed through 
 the streets, had found this house — these ques- 
 tions could wait ; indeed, they never really knew. 
 But it was another question altogether which 
 held them silent, which mocked their efforts to 
 answer it, yet seemed with every tick of the 
 loud-voiced clock to cry out more importunately 
 for the answer. 
 
 Mr. Odell was the first to try. 
 
 E 241 
 
242 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 It was one of the ironies of chance that he 
 should be there. His making this evening visit, 
 his trying to induce Mrs. Townley and her daugli- 
 ter to leave the city, had something indeed to 
 justify them. He had heard the talk of the town ; 
 he had, to a certain extent, shared the town's 
 suspicions. But his motive had been a selfish 
 one, a small one, even as small motives go. He 
 had seen that by staying longer in the city these 
 two women might easily impair the efficiency of 
 his best asset, Captain Martin Carver. Things 
 would run more smoothly if they were away, 
 whether there were any truth in the town talk 
 or not. So, on this night, at this hour, he had 
 come to this house. So he had stepped out of a 
 tolerably comfortable frying-pan into a veritable 
 glowing, fiery furnace. But the fire seemed to 
 be just what Mr. Odell's rather thickly crusted 
 soul needed. 
 
 " Would it be possible," he asked, " to put him 
 into a boat and row him down the river and out 
 to one of the cruisers ? Could we do it together ? 
 I've not handled a scull for a good many years, 
 but I'd do what I could." 
 
 Both Celia and Martin felt a little surprise — 
 afterward. There was no room for it now, nor 
 for gratitude, for anything but the struggle with 
 the Question. 
 
 " We couldn't do it," said Martin, after a 
 
THE SPY 243 
 
 moment. " The sea that's running outside to- 
 night would swamp any of these little river 
 boats — especially with his dead weight in it. 
 If he were himself we could try it. We could 
 hide in Walden Creek and wait our chance 
 to get out. But one more night in the swamp 
 would kill him, I think." 
 
 " He's very ill, isn't he ? " Celia asked. 
 
 "He's burning up with fever. It's just 
 from exhaustion and starvation, most likely. 
 It would only take two or three days to put 
 him on his feet, temporarily." Then, to Mr. 
 Odell, " We must find some place here in 
 the city where we can hide him for as long as 
 that." 
 
 " We'll keep him here, of course," said 
 Celia. 
 
 <' How's your place ? " demanded Martin of 
 the older man. 
 
 " The warehouse," he answered. " Why not ? " 
 
 " Hold on. Didn't you say last night you'd 
 hired a night watchman ? " 
 
 " There's no reason why he can't be kept 
 here," Celia said quickly, without waiting for his 
 affirmative nod. " Oh, there are ordinary reasons, 
 of course. But there is nothing to make it im- 
 possible. There are just ourselves here. The ser- 
 vant isn't here at night. And they won't search 
 the house for him unless some one saw him 
 
244 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 come in. Besides, yoa couldn't take him through 
 the streets, anywhere, as he is now." 
 
 " Your mother — " began Martin, doubtfully. 
 
 " Her life isn't in danger. She may be longer 
 getting w^ell, that's all." 
 
 Hitherto, all of them — she, like the two men 
 — had spoken in a manner curiously matter-of- 
 fact ; a little more rapidly with rather more 
 condensation, it is true, than w^as perfectly natu- 
 ral, but in no other way showing that they 
 realized the hideous alternative of failure. But 
 the silence of a few seconds which followed 
 Celia's last words was too much for her nerves. 
 " Oh, do be quick, be quick ! " Her voice broke 
 in a sob that had a hysterical echo of a laugh 
 in it. 
 
 " Mr. Odell," said Martin, " I'm glad you're 
 willing to help us. We shall need it. I think I 
 have the plan. I shall be taken sick, here, now. 
 In the morning you'll go to the Caroline and tell 
 them so. Tell the stew^ard to bring me my medi- 
 cine case." Then he turned to Celia. " Is there 
 a bed I can put him into ? " 
 
 " I'll get it ready, " she said, and went swiftly 
 out of the room and up the stairs. 
 
 Mr. Odell seemed a little uneasy. " Won't it 
 cause comment if it gets generally known you're 
 here ? " 
 
 " All the better. That's just what w^ill make 
 
THE SPY 245 
 
 it possible to keep him here — and to get him 
 off, too, perhaps. And if anybody has to see 
 me, they can, for a day or two. We could 
 chance it, I think." 
 
 " Perhaps you're right. But here's another 
 thing. Won't they insist, Mr. White and the 
 others, I mean, on sending a doctor to see you, 
 if they know you're really ill ? I could get 
 medicines — I've got no end of 'em at the 
 warehouse." 
 
 «' They won't insist," said Martin. " They'll 
 obey orders. And I've got to be sick. I've got 
 to be as near as possible exactly as sick as he 
 is." 
 
 « Yes — yes, y.ou're quite right. Can I help 
 you in getting him to bed ? " 
 
 " No, I can do it alone. You'd better go back 
 now. If he was seen coming here, and if the 
 guard does come to arrest him in a few minutes 
 now, there's no good in your being here. But 
 you'll come again to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Whenever you want me. Good night." 
 
 "Good night." 
 
 An instant later Celia came down the stairs. 
 " Everything is ready for him. Shall I go ahead 
 with the candle ? " The moment of action, the 
 doing of something she had been explicitly told 
 to do, had brought her under control again. She 
 spoke as steadily as ever. 
 
246 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " Good," said Martin. He went to the sofa, 
 laid his hands on Winthrop's uneasy body, and 
 gently began to raise him. He roused a little 
 out of his feverish sleep, then suddenly again 
 began struggling fiercely to get free from the 
 arms that held him. 
 
 <' You're all right, old man. Lie still." Some- 
 how the low voice, reassuring but peremptory, 
 carried something of its meaning to the sick 
 man's wits, errant though they were. He sank 
 back again quietly enough, and Martin, gathering 
 him in his arms, followed Celia up the creaking 
 stairs. 
 
 She brought him everything he asked for and 
 went away, leaving him to get Winthrop to bed, 
 but when half an hour later he opened the door, 
 he found her sitting at the head of the stairs. 
 
 She rose and came softly toward the door. 
 " I've been listening," she whispered. " Do you 
 think they'll come to-night to take him ? " 
 
 "We're safe so far," he answered, also in a 
 whisper. " If any one had seen him come to the 
 house, they'd have been here before this looking 
 for him." 
 
 " Martin, you'll tell me what you really think, 
 won't you ? Is there any" chance, any chance at 
 all to save him ? " 
 
 " I think so — I think a fairly good one. I've 
 a sort of a plan, the main points of one, that 
 
THE SPY 247 
 
 isn't hopeless by any means. It will be hard, 
 it'll demand a good deal of all of us, — of him, and 
 you, and your mother. If we all do our parts 
 right, it may work. But it won't do to look so 
 far ahead as that. We've got to leave the out- 
 come of it to — to the One that decides if any 
 of our plans shall work." 
 
 " I know," she answered, " and I'll try. I'll 
 do exactly what you tell me to. What shall 
 I tell mother?" 
 
 " Has she heard at all what's gone on to-night ? " 
 
 " No. Her room's downstairs, but at the end 
 of the passage, — the other end of the house from 
 the living room." 
 
 " You'd better tell me the plan of the house, I 
 think. It may be useful." 
 
 She made it as clear as she could without 
 a diagram. 
 
 " Then there's only this one room upstairs ? " 
 he asked, when she had finished. " Where does 
 this other door lead ? " 
 
 " It's just a garret. And you can get into it 
 through the closet in your room, too." 
 
 " That's as good as possible. Do you store 
 anything in it ? " 
 
 " Yes, our trunks and things. Why ? " 
 
 " I was thinking of what you're to tell your 
 mother. If you were to occupy yourself up here 
 for a day or two, in the attic, we might be able 
 
248 TKAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 to keep her in the dark as to any one else's being 
 upstairs. But she might hear something you 
 couldn't explain. No, we'd better not run that 
 risk. Could you say that I've been sick — " 
 
 " She'd insist on coming to take care of you, 
 if she was strong enough to climb the stairs. I 
 couldn't keep her away." 
 
 " Then you'll have to tell her that I'm pre- 
 tending to be sick, — that people think I am, but 
 I'm not at all ! " 
 
 " But she'll want to know why." 
 
 " Tell her it's a secret of mine. Tell her that 
 you know, and that Mr. Odell knows, and that 
 you'll tell her, if she wants to know. I think 
 I'd tell her all that the first thing in the morning." 
 
 "Yes," she said. "I think that's exactly right. 
 And — are there any further orders. Captain ? " 
 
 " Nothing, except to sleep as hard as you can 
 till morning. Unless — " He paused a little awk- 
 wardly. She waitedj and after a little he went 
 on with an obvious effort : " He's asleep, but 
 perhaps you'd like to go in, for a minute or two, 
 just to see that he's quite comfortable — " 
 
 He could not see her face clearly, but had an 
 idea that she looked at him curiously before she 
 answered. 
 
 " I don't think I'll go in to-night," she said. 
 " I'm going to obey orders and go to sleep. You 
 told me once not to be afraid. Do you remem- 
 
THE SPY 249 
 
 ber ? On the Southern Cross when the storm was 
 coming ? But you won't have to tell me again." 
 
 His eyes followed her down the stairs, then he 
 went softly back into the sick-room, and draw- 
 ing the easy-chair close beside the bed, settled 
 down for the long night watch. 
 
 But it did not seem long to him. Over and 
 over again he studied his plan, working out its 
 details, testing it with every exigency he could 
 think of. It was horribly insecure, and once or 
 twice in the night he abandoned it altogether 
 in the search for another where the chances of 
 failure w^ould not be so many ; but there seemed 
 to be no other, and he returned to it. He reck- 
 oned with all the persons who, consciously or not, 
 must play a part in it, — the endurance of this 
 one, the courage of that, the loyalty of another. 
 Well, humanly speaking, perhaps there was an 
 even chance, or a little less, that they might 
 succeed. 
 
 A little after two o'clock in the morning, the 
 hour when the barometer is lowest, when all the 
 world turns restlessly in its sleep, when those 
 holding death at arm's end are of tenest overcome, 
 Winthrop began to stir more uneasily, and his 
 low, feverish muttering began to take the form 
 of intelligible words. They were only words ; 
 there was nothing coherent about them, but 
 there was a suggestion of a meaning — if one 
 
250 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 could but find it — which drew Martin's thoughts 
 away from the plan, that held his eyes eagerly 
 on the sick man's face, that sometimes held his 
 breath suspended from one word to another. 
 There was but a shred or two in all the tangle, 
 but in these he seemed to find a hope, an old 
 hope of his, long held and only just relinquished. 
 
 The sick man soon became quiet again, but 
 Martin's thoughts did not go back to the plan. 
 He let himself forget it, forget the perils the 
 next few days must bring them all, as he sat 
 there till the dawn came in at the windows 
 nursing that just dead hope of his back to 
 life. 
 
 Before full day, as he sat watching it break, a 
 movement in the bed behind him made him 
 turn quickly ; it was feeble, but it had purpose 
 in it. 
 
 "Well, how do you feel after your night's 
 sleep ? " he asked. 
 
 « Martin — what — where am I ? " 
 
 "Never mind about that. You're all right. 
 Do you want a drink and a bite to eat ? " 
 
 He held him up in bed and let him drink half 
 a glass of water ; then, with more success than 
 his inexperience would have led one to expect, 
 he fed him with that most unmanageable of 
 viands — a raw egg. 
 
 " I don't see how you come to be here," said 
 
THE SPY 251 
 
 the sick man, after it was over. " I don't under- 
 stand it at all." 
 
 " How should you when you don't know where 
 you are ? " 
 
 The answer seemed to satisfy him for a mo- 
 ment ; then his memory taking a stronger hold 
 than before, he made an effort to rouse himself. 
 
 " Martin," he said, " there is something I must 
 tell you. — I must talk to you. It's what I 
 went to the Caroline for." 
 
 Whatever the next words were to be, however 
 much they might mean to Martin, they must not 
 be said now. "There's no hurry about it. I'm 
 not going away. You're not to talk or think for 
 another twenty-four hours. After that as much 
 as you like. But for twenty-four hours, remem- 
 ber, not a word to me or to any one else." 
 
 He tried to protest, but already his exertion 
 had wearied him, and before many minutes he 
 was again asleep. 
 
 While it was still early, before he expected 
 any sound whatever in the house, he heard Celia 
 coming up the stairs. In the passage he met her, 
 bright-eyed, triumphant. 
 
 " I've told mother," she said, " and mother 
 says she's willing to trust you with as many 
 secrets as you please. How's Winthrop ? Did 
 he have a good night ? " 
 
 He nodded. "As good as possible." 
 
252 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " So everything's gone exactly right so far. 
 And now I'm going to get your breakfast before 
 Jennie comes. She's the cook, you know." 
 
 " I'm hungry enough to eat it, but I guess 
 we'd better wait for her. Let her get it ready 
 and bring it up herself." 
 
 " Let her see him ? " 
 
 "But not me. I'll be in the garret." Her 
 look spoke the utmost surprise, so he explained. 
 " She's probably curious. If she suspects there's 
 a mystery she'll do all she can to make it out. 
 She's likely to be questioned if it's true that I'm 
 here. If she has brought my meals up three 
 times a day, and has seen Winthrop really sick, 
 she'll answer questions perfectly naturally." 
 
 " But she's probably seen you ; the darkies 
 are so interested in the blockade-runners. Are 
 you going to trust the resemblance ? It seems 
 dreadful," she went on, at his affirmative nod; 
 " you don't look alike, not in the least." 
 
 "Didn't we when you didn't know us so well? 
 We do to strangers, as a rule." 
 
 "He looks a little like you, perhaps," she 
 admitted, " but you don't look a bit like him." 
 
 " It has worked once," he said thoughtfully, 
 very gravely. "People mistook him for me 
 then. They'll expect me to look different with- 
 out my beard, and after a touch of fever — " 
 
 « They ! " She looked at him, wide-eyed. " Is 
 
THE SPY 253 
 
 that your plan to get him off ! Martin — won't 
 they know him the moment he steps out of the 
 door ? " 
 
 " It's our only chance. He won't be in shape 
 to take to the swamps for wrecks. We can't 
 keep this up for more than two or three days. 
 But it isn't desperate. And we'll have to believe 
 in it ourselves. A good deal will depend on how 
 we do our part in it." 
 
 For a moment the idea terrified her; the 
 thought that during the very moments when 
 his life hung in the balance they must be steady 
 of nerve, nonchalant, that by a glance or a start 
 they themselves might betray him, was almost 
 unendurable. Her lips were trembling when she 
 asked : — 
 
 "Martin, can we do it? Do you think we 
 can do it ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said. " When the time comes you'll 
 be able to do it." 
 
 She drew a long breath. "Well," she said, 
 " I can at least begin by being brave with the 
 cook. I'll tell her when she comes." 
 
 It was a hard test, and it needed all her cour- 
 age to carry it through. Jennie was an old ser- 
 vant in the family, and she had her privileges, the 
 chief of which was that of unlimited comment. 
 Celia resisted the impulse to check her, resisted 
 it further than she would have done had she 
 
254 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 not had a hard part to play ; but it grew harder 
 every moment, and when at last the woman 
 remarked that Captain Carver looked as if he'd 
 never had a sick day all his life, she felt her heart 
 sink, and fomid herself a trifle giddy. It seemed 
 like a deliberate betrayal. With a very little 
 less self-control, with a grain less faith in Mar- 
 tin, she would have taken the tray from the 
 woman's hands and carried it up herself. 
 
 But the experiment was worth all it cost her, 
 for the sight of the servant's face as she came 
 down the stairs five minutes later was convinc- 
 ing. " He's mighty sick, that's a fact," was her 
 comment. " But I thought he was looking kind 
 of peaked last time I saw him." 
 
 It was not the severest test the resemblance 
 must be put to, but, as far as it went, it was 
 encouraging. 
 
 A little later in the morning, after Mr. Odell 
 had made his visit, Celia mounted the stairs, 
 with a pair of blankets over her arm. She 
 opened the right-hand door into the little garret, 
 and it was here that Martin found her. 
 
 " How did you know it wasn't Jennie ? " she 
 asked severely as he tiptoed into the room. He 
 smiled, and with that for answer she went on. 
 " Winthrop's asleep, isn't he? I'm going to 
 make some sort of a place for you to sleep your- 
 self. You must have nearly frozen last night." 
 
THE SPY 255 
 
 Besides the blankets she contrived to get to- 
 gether from here and there a large enough aggre- 
 gate of soft things to make a very tolerable bed. 
 Together they disposed them with great preten- 
 sion on her part to a highly scientific arrange- 
 ment, in a corner near the closet door which 
 communicated with the room where Winthrop 
 lay asleep. 
 
 The necessity for almost perfect silence, the 
 talk in whispers, the unusual surroundings and 
 occupation, made it all seem a sort of play. 
 " It's like playing house," she said. " I feel 
 about ten years old, don't you ? And isn't it 
 fun ? " 
 
 He was used to sudden changes in her, but 
 now the sudden transformation in her face from 
 glee to something little short of horror startled 
 him. 
 
 " Did you hear something ? " he asked. 
 
 "No — no. I just remembered what it all 
 means. I'd forgotten. Oh, how could I forget, 
 even for a minute ! " 
 
 u I'ln glad you could. The people who can 
 forget when there's nothing to be gained by 
 remembering can go just so much farther and 
 can stand just so much more than those who 
 can't. You'll do your part all the better when 
 the time comes." 
 
 "Perhaps so," she said. But she was serious 
 
256 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 now. The mood of childhood was gone. " Mar- 
 tin," she said, seating herself on a box and 
 motioning him to another near by, "mother 
 and I have decided to go away. We decided 
 this morning. You think it's right, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " I hoped you would ; I've thought about it 
 a good deal. Do you think you could get ready 
 to go soon ? On the Caroline on Monday ? " 
 
 "Why, Monday's only the day after to- 
 morrow. Oh, do you mean for us to go when 
 you take him ? Will it help your plan ? Yes, 
 we can go, of course." 
 
 " That's the last difficulty," he said, with evi- 
 dent relief, " the last that we're concerned with, 
 I mean. Would you like to hear the plan ? " 
 
 " Oh, please ! " she said. " I hoped you'd 
 tell me." 
 
 It was essentially what he had thought out 
 the night before. With Mr. Odell's help he had 
 filled in some details, and now he knew he 
 could count on Celia and her mother to go 
 with them it was complete. He began at the 
 beginning. 
 
 " The Carolme was to have sailed Sunday, — 
 to-morrow, — but Mr. Odell has told them to wait 
 over one day more on account of my being sick. 
 That gives Winthrop another day to get better, 
 and it means that the Caroline will have to wait 
 
THE SPY 257 
 
 nearly an hour later at Sinithville for the moon 
 to set. That takes it till after midnight. You 
 know we usually drop down the river in the 
 afternoon, and wait for dai*k off Smithville. 
 
 " Mr. White is to command this trip — or he 
 expects to — and we'll set half-past three as the 
 hour for leaving here, but you'll keep him wait- 
 ing. You won't leave the house here till half- 
 past four or five. There'll be less light then, 
 and you'll be sure they'll be ready to turn the 
 w^heels the minute you get aboard. Mr. Odell 
 will hire a closed hack and when the time 
 comes, you and your mother and he and Win- 
 throp will walk out to it and drive to the Caro- 
 line, I don't think there'll be the least danger 
 as you go through the streets. The risk will 
 be when you get to the Caroline^ 
 
 " Yes," she said unsteadily, " that will be 
 dreadful." 
 
 " We've a good deal in our favor, though. 
 None of them have seen him before, not his face 
 at least. They'll be expecting me, and won't 
 have any idea for a minute of seeing any one 
 else. He'll be in my clothes, he'll have on my 
 overcoat with the collar turned up, and it's wide 
 enough to pretty well hide his face. Mr. Odell 
 will take his arm and walk him straight to my 
 cabin. It won't take three minutes all together 
 from the time you get out of the hack." 
 
258 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " Suppose they try to make him talk ; sup- 
 pose somebody asks him a question." 
 
 " They'll be busy, and in a hurry — the offi- 
 cers will — to get past Reeves' Point by what's 
 left of the daylight. The steward's the man to 
 look out for. He'll probably come up to help, 
 and if he does, you'll have to find something on 
 the spur of the moment to divert him. It's 
 only what he might do in a moment of surprise 
 that would be dangerous. He might exclaim 
 and attract some one else's attention. If worst , 
 should come to worst, I think vou could throw 
 yourself, or me rather, on his mercy. He's per- 
 fectly loyal." 
 
 His use of the word struck her oddly. " Loy- 
 alty " in the South meant loyalty to the 
 Cause. She saw in a moment that he meant 
 by it simply personally devoted to his com- 
 mander. That gave her something to think 
 about afterward, but now her attention came 
 quickly back to the unfinished story. Martin had 
 stopped as though there were nothing more to tell. 
 
 " What next ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, after that it's simple. Mr. Odell stays 
 in my state-room with Winthrop, and sees that 
 nobody else gets in. He's going through to 
 Nassau with you. The Caroline will drop down 
 to Smithville, wait for the moon to set, and 
 then run the blockade." 
 
THE SPY 259 
 
 " But you ! " she demanded. " Martin, — " in 
 quick alarm, — " what will you do ? They'll 
 capture you instead." 
 
 " Not if I can help it. I'm going to escape. 
 I shall wait for dark and then slip oE. There'll 
 be a boat hidden, two boats in fact, in different 
 places so that I can have my choice. With 
 luck, I'll get down to Smithville before you 
 start out. In that case, I'll get aboard and go 
 out with you." 
 
 " You mustn't let them go without you. We 
 won't go till you're safe on board." 
 
 " It won't do to wait," he said, with gentle 
 finality. " If I'm not there, it's all the more 
 reason to hurry away. But I can take care of 
 myself. And even if they do catch me, they'll 
 soon find they have the wrong man. They 
 wouldn't let me off on that account of course, 
 but they wouldn't treat me — as they'd treat 
 him." 
 
 " Don't," she shuddered. " But are you sure 
 they wouldn't, Martin ? Are you sure ? " 
 
 " Quite sure," he said. 
 
 Presently, with a manifest exercise of her 
 self-command, she changed the direction of this 
 talk. "You ought to be asleep," she said. 
 " You must save up, too. If you'll go to sleep 
 now, I'll watch, and if anything happens will 
 wake you." 
 
260 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " That won't be necessary. I told him the 
 last time he was awake that if he didn't see me 
 I'd be in the next room, and that he wasn't to 
 call out." 
 
 " Is he — Does he understand ? Have you 
 talked with him ? " 
 
 " He wanted to talk," said Martin, very slowly. 
 " He said there was something he must tell me. 
 But I wouldn't let him, of course. I said he 
 must wait till to-morrow." 
 
 The note of eagerness — of more than that, 
 of fear, almost — in her voice as she had asked 
 the question had caught his ear and drawn his 
 eyes to her face ; but, bidden by an instinct which 
 told him that she would not have him read what 
 was written there, he lowered them again, in- 
 stantly. He did not look at her as he made his 
 answer, nor during the moment of silence that 
 followed it, nor she at him, but both knew that 
 what they had put off last evening for their 
 stolen hour had become peremptory. 
 
 "Perhaps this isn't the time to give explana- 
 tions, nor to ask for them," he said at last, " but, 
 Celia — I told you the other day that I thought 
 I understood. It seemed that there was only 
 one way to understand it. He had come into 
 the city to see you, and your brother had helped 
 him, and — I took it just as the commandant 
 did. And that seemed to help me to understand 
 
THE SPY 261 
 
 what — what had been between us. I thought 
 you must have looked at things as I knew Win- 
 throp did, that it seemed to you that I had been 
 disloyal to him, that I'd sided with father against 
 him, and perhaps for my own advantage. And 
 I wanted to make you see that I hadn't. I 
 thought I could. But I'm not sure now that 
 I wasn't wrong altogether. Winthrop hasn't 
 talked to me, but in his dreams last night he 
 talked, and I listened to what he said. Celia, 
 are you willing to tell me ? Are you and he — " 
 
 He could not say the word, but she understood 
 without it, and answered, not very steadily, 
 " No, we're not engaged to each other. And we 
 won't be, ever. He — he understands." 
 
 It was a moment before he asked the next 
 question. 
 
 " And I am wrong about the other, too ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I haven't found the reason. It means 
 — more than anything else to me to find it. 
 Won't I ever know, Celia ? Can't you tell me ? " 
 
 He looked up at her as he asked the question, 
 and saw in her face what he had seen there 
 months ago when she had said good-by to him, 
 that cold, gray morning aboard the Caroline^ her 
 eyes bright with tears, telling him so much and 
 not ashamed to tell, but still denying. 
 
 "Not to-day," she pleaded; "not any more 
 
262 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 to-daj. Can't it be like last night, like this 
 morning, for a little longer ? We haven't any 
 right to — ourselves, now. And maybe some 
 day everything will come right." 
 
 Though they agreed to try it, it seemed almost 
 beyond possibility that they could go back to 
 the relation of yesterday ; and both were sur- 
 prised to find it easy, to find themselves back 
 on the same intimate yet entirely practical terms 
 as before, and the little interlude not forgotten, 
 but laid away until they should have a " right to 
 themselves" again. 
 
 The next forty-eight hours brought no great 
 events, but a multitude of small aifairs. Martin's 
 share of them was the slightest, for, beyond tak- 
 ing care of Winthrop, there was nothing he could 
 venture to do ; but Celia, besides the attention 
 her mother needed, had to make all the prepara- 
 tions for their unexpected departure. She had 
 Jennie to help her, indeed, but Jennie was not 
 too effective at best, and in her bewilderment 
 and grief over their going away still less so. 
 
 As for Mr. Odell, he was running back and 
 forth on one errand or another all the while. It 
 is not likely that he was as much sm'prised to 
 find himself in this role as they were. Whether 
 he reasoned that the only thing left for him to 
 do, the only chance for saving the "business," 
 was to get them all off safely, or whether he 
 
THE SPY 263 
 
 shared their feelings more nearly, it came to pre- 
 cisely the same thing. He was eager, resource- 
 ful, invaluable. 
 
 By Sunday morning, it was evident, as it had 
 not been before, that Winthrop would be ready, 
 after another day's recruiting, to make the at- 
 tempt. He waked after a normal night's sleep, 
 stretched and sat up in bed, and demanded to 
 be told where he was and how he came to be 
 there. It was rather a severe test of his newly 
 recovered strength to be told that he was lying, 
 as it were, in the open hand of Death, and that 
 in a little more than twenty-four hours he must 
 make an attempt to walk out between the fin- 
 gers. He did not, of course, guess the worst of 
 it, the general knowledge through the town of 
 the striking resemblance the spy had borne 
 to Captain Carver, nor the suspicion, partly 
 allayed, but smouldering and ready to flare up 
 at a breath, against the Townleys ; and Martin 
 took care that he should not guess. He entered 
 into the plan with all his old-time verve and gay 
 courage, and they all felt that if these qualities 
 could carry him through, he would not fail in 
 his part. 
 
 But if they could reckon him every hour less 
 an invalid and more a colaborer, with Mrs. 
 Townley, contrary to their expectations, the 
 case was reversed. Physically she seemed well 
 
264 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 enough. She had not worried, either, over 
 "Martin's mystery," had shown no curiosity about 
 it, had seemed often to forget completely that 
 he was in the house. She had assented readily 
 enough to the plan for going away, had seemed 
 neither surprised nor reluctant when told how 
 soon it was to be. But that this apparent calm- 
 ness came from her failure to comprehend the 
 smallest part of the situation, rather than from a 
 deliberate acceptance of it, was made evident by 
 her moments of distress and anxiety over the 
 smallest and most trivial matters of the house- 
 hold routine. They had put off, almost from 
 hour to hour, telling her that their escort to the 
 Caroline would be Winthrop instead of Martin, 
 and at last they definitely decided to leave it until 
 the very last moment, hoping that the danger 
 might be over before she could fairly realize how 
 great it had been. All together, by tea-time, Sun- 
 day, her condition seemed to be the thing most 
 likely to set at naught their calculations. 
 
 Even the news Mr. Odell brought with him in 
 the evening, important though it was, hardly 
 held their minds for more than the few minutes 
 which he sat on Martin's bed in the garret — for 
 Winthrop was asleep — and told them what he 
 knew of it. 
 
 " I've sniffed something in the wind for several 
 days," he said, " some military expedition or 
 
THE SPY 265 
 
 other. It's all been kept very quiet. All I 
 know now is that it's on for to-morrow night. 
 I suspect it's to be an affair of boats. They're 
 impressing all the boats they can find, at any 
 rate. They nearly got the two I've hidden for 
 you to get off in. But as they didn't, I don't 
 see that they'll trouble us." 
 
 " No, it's good news so far as it goes," said 
 Martin. " The more they have to think about 
 to-morrow, the less they're likely to think about 
 us." 
 
 " It may complicate things for you a bit, 
 that's all. You may find more company than 
 you want on the river." 
 
 " No," said Martin, easily. " I don't think 
 they'll trouble me a bit." 
 
 " And there's no ^Dart of the plan you want 
 changed ? This is our last chance to talk over 
 anything in advance. I shan't come to the 
 house till it's time to start, till about four o'clock." 
 
 " No, there's nothing to change. The only 
 thing now is for everybody to get a good night's 
 sleep." 
 
 They shook hands all around, for Celia had 
 been a silent party to the colloquy, and so ended 
 the last " council." 
 
 The intolerable part of that memorable Mon- 
 day, the part that wore Winthrop into a fever 
 
266 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 again, that even told severely upon Martin's en- 
 durance, was between ten o'clock that morning, 
 when they realized that there was nothing to 
 do now but wait, and half-past three in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 At the latter hour, Winthrop, who for the last 
 hour had been stretched out beside Martin 
 on the bed, holding himself still and pretending 
 to rest, sat up wdth a jerk. 
 
 <'I can't stand this any longer," he said. "Are 
 you asleep ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I think I'll pack that little bag of yours." 
 
 « It's done already." 
 
 " Confound it! Why couldn't you leave some- 
 thing for me to amuse myself with ? What's 
 Celia doing, do you know ? " 
 
 " She's pretending to pack, too, I think. She 
 was going to get her mother to help her, to keep 
 her entertained. I wonder if she's told her 
 yet." 
 
 " She'll have to pretty soon. Mr. Odell will 
 be here in a few minutes." 
 
 " Not for half an hour yet." 
 
 He had not more than got the words out 
 before they heard footsteps and a knock at the 
 front door. 
 
 « That's not he," said Martin, « and it's more 
 than one. It's two women." 
 
THE SPY 267 
 
 The sound of their voices, a moment later, 
 confirmed his guess, but who the two could be 
 was a puzzle. They were still there when Mr. 
 Odell came, half an hour later, and then they 
 learned that the callers were Mrs. Sherwin and 
 Dolly, who had come to say good-by. 
 
 " It ought to be a good thing, too," Mr. Odell 
 added. " It ought to stiffen Mrs. Townley up a 
 bit. But I wish they'd go now. I've got some 
 more news for you. Captain Dearborn and that 
 sailor of his broke jail last night, and apparently 
 have got off. There's no end of a row about it 
 all over town and down the river. I suppose 
 they're sure to be taken, but I hope not. It 
 won't make it any easier for you, though " (this 
 to Martin^ — " the hullabaloo after them." 
 
 There was another half an hour's wait before 
 they heard the last farewell and the click of the 
 door as it shut behind the visitors. 
 
 Winthrop sprang up, and began putting on 
 Martin's ulster. 
 
 " Give them five minutes more," said Martin. 
 " She may not have told her mother yet." 
 
 Mr. Odell took out his watch, and told off 
 the half minutes as they went by. And at last 
 he put it back in his pocket and rose. " Well, 
 my lad," he said, <' it's time we were off." 
 
 There fell then a little moment of silence, 
 before the brothers parted. Whether the part- 
 
268 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 mg was to be for hours, for years, forever, they 
 could not know. They gripped hands tight. 
 
 <' I won't forget the stoop,*' Winthrop said, 
 "nor that I have brown eyes. God bless you, 
 old man ! Good-by." 
 
 Martin heard them down the stairs. Then 
 through the closet he stepped into his garret and 
 lay down on his bed. He had not realized that 
 he was not to have another word with Celia. 
 It was safest so, no doubt, and he stiffened him- 
 self against the feeling of despondency that came 
 over him. 
 
 And then he heard her step on the stairs. 
 
 " I've only a minute," she whispered as she 
 closed the garret door behind her. " I mustn't 
 leave mother." 
 
 « You told her ? " 
 
 "She didn't seem frightened — but, Martin, 
 she didn't seem to understand. Do you think 
 she'll break down before it's over ? " 
 
 " It's nearly over now. You'll be safe in fif- 
 teen minutes." 
 
 " But you ! Martin, you mustn't let them take 
 you. Did you know about Captain Dearborn ? 
 You'll — Good-by, Martin." 
 
 He stood bending a little, his hands locked 
 together before him. 
 
 " Good-by," he said. " If I don't — " 
 
 The locked hands came apart, and he stretched 
 
THE SPY 269 
 
 his arms out towards her. " Celia, if I don't 
 come — " 
 
 With a little gasp she sprang between them, 
 and with her own drew herself close, closer to 
 him. "Good-by," she said again, and, opening 
 the door, went swiftly down the stairs. He 
 locked it after her, and the other as well, and 
 then lay down again. He heard the front door 
 open, and then, after what seemed a long time, 
 the carriage drove off. 
 
PAET V 
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 With cheeks still burning after that swift 
 embrace, Celia entered the room below. Her 
 heart was beating fast, but very steadily, and 
 she was aware somehow of an unusual keenness 
 in all her faculties, of a more perfect self-com- 
 mand, of a complete self-confidence. With a 
 glance about the room she noted her mother 
 talking cheerfully — ominously cheerfully — to 
 Winthrop, who was sitting beside her on the 
 sofa ; Jennie in a corner between two large port- 
 manteaux which she was to take out to the 
 carriage, ready to burst into tears when the 
 moment of departure should actually have ar- 
 rived ; Mr. Odell at the door, his hand already, 
 on the latch, making manifest his impatience to 
 be gone. 
 
 " I'm sorry I've kept you waiting," she said, 
 with an apologetic little smile, "but I'm quite 
 ready now." 
 
 He smiled, too, but nothing but his lips had 
 any part in it. " You ready. Captain ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Quite," Winthrop answered, " and it's high 
 time we were off, too." 
 
 T 273 
 
274 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 Mr. Odell pulled open the door ; Jennie with a 
 loud sniff lifted the two heavy travelling bags, 
 but stood still, waiting for the others to pass ; 
 and Winthrop sprang up to assist Mrs. Town- 
 ley to rise. 
 
 " Don't forget that you're an invalid, Captain 
 Carver," said Celia, crossing over to them. 
 " Come, mother." She led her across to the 
 open door, and Winthrop, profiting by the re- 
 minder, sank back again on the sofa. 
 
 The carriage had been waiting a quarter of an 
 hour or more, and without the special interest 
 and curiosity which attached to the house be- 
 fore which it waited, it would have drawn 
 together, no doubt, a little knot of the idly in- 
 quisitive to watch the departure. As it was, 
 when the door opened there were, perhaps, a 
 dozen persons of all ages and all conditions but 
 the best, who, more or less frankly, were watch- 
 ing to see who would come out of it. 
 
 Though the situation was just as she had 
 foreseen it, Celia found it harder to face 
 than she had expected it would be, harder to 
 dismiss from her mind the possibility that they 
 would know him the moment he stepped out- 
 side the door, or to keep from guessing who 
 among the little group out there would be first 
 to give the alarm. One of them was a soldier ; 
 perhaps it was by the commandant's express 
 
THE AWAKENING 275 
 
 orders that he was keeping watch. All that 
 went through her thoughts simultaneously in 
 a single flash, and as quickly it was gone again, 
 but she held her mother's arm more firmly than 
 before as they took the next step. 
 
 If she had not done so, Mrs. Townley would 
 have fallen, for upon her the effect of the sight 
 was unexpected even to them, and most alarm- 
 ing. She went perfectly white, faltered, and 
 clutched aimlessly for support. 
 
 " Celia," she cried, and but that no voice came 
 with the words, only an agonized whisper, they 
 must have reached the ears of those who were 
 hanging over the low fence, " Celia, they'll see 
 him ! They'll know him ! " 
 
 " Jennie, go ahead with the bags, please," the 
 girl said steadily. They stepped back a pace to 
 give her room to get by. " Mother," Celia con- 
 tinued, "all we have to do is exactly what 
 Martin told us to do. He wants us to go out 
 to the carriage. Mr. Odell, will you help 
 us?" 
 
 Leaning heavily on the two arms which now 
 held her, Mrs. Townley allowed herself to be 
 led out to the carriage. There was no demon- 
 stration against them whatever, save in a few 
 unfriendly comments, and these, as far as she 
 was concerned, seemed to fall on deaf ears. 
 As soon as she was seated Mr. Odell went back 
 
276 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 for Winthrop. Jennie, meanwhile, had stowed 
 the two portmanteaux on the box beside the 
 driver, and was now standing ankle deep in the 
 mud of the unpaved road, taking a last look at 
 them — as well as she could for the tears which 
 rained down her honest, black face — through 
 the carriage door. 
 
 " Never you mind, Jennie," Celia said. " If 
 we don't come back pretty soon, we'll bring 
 you out to us. Would you be afraid to run 
 the blockade ? Mrs. Sherwin will tell you all 
 about us as soon as we've had time to send a 
 letter back to her. She's coming in the morn- 
 ing, you know, Jennie, to tell you where to put 
 things, and see that everything's kept just right. 
 You'd better take a holiday this afternoon, I 
 think ; don't pick up at all. Leave everything 
 just as it is until morning." 
 
 "Leave the house all in a clutter like this 
 over night I I couldn't sleep, Miss Celia, if I 
 done that." 
 
 Winthrop was already in the carriage, and Mr. 
 Odell, one foot on the step, was giving a word of 
 instruction to the driver, so there was time for 
 only a word more. It must be well chosen, too. 
 This sudden spasm of conscientiousness which 
 had unexpectedly taken possession of Jennie 
 indeed rendered her dangerous, but nothing to 
 what she would be if her curiosity were 
 
THE AWAKENING 277 
 
 awakened. Nothing could save Martin from 
 speedy discovery if she ever guessed there was 
 anything to discover. 
 
 " Have it your own way," Celia said to her, 
 "but we'd much rather you didn't. And I 
 should think that you'd w^ant to do the very last 
 thing we ask you to." 
 
 " Yes'm," she answered dubiously. 
 
 It would not be safe to add another word, 
 that was clear. She nodded to Mr. Odell, and he 
 called to the coachman to drive on. 
 
 Though Winthrop had needed, during the 
 past five minutes, more than one swift reminder 
 and had cost both Celia and Mr. Odell a little 
 uneasiness, nothing could have been finer than 
 the part he took during the time that their 
 carriage was jolting along slowly through the 
 muddy streets toward the Caroline's wharf. He 
 was absolutely nonchalant, his talk was even gay, 
 but there was none of that feverish brilliancy 
 about it which in a weaker nature so often 
 serves as a sort of ghastly cloak to cover terror 
 or pain. He was just himself. What he talked 
 about none of them could remember afterwards, 
 but Celia could feel the high nervous tension of 
 a few moments past relaxing, and she saw with 
 delight a little flush of color coming back into 
 her mother's white cheeks. 
 
 "Why, we're nearly there," she said, with a 
 
278 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 glance out of the window. " It hasn't seemed 
 long at all. But why are we stopping ? " 
 
 The driver had indeed pulled up his horses, 
 and before the words were out of her mouth, 
 the carriage was at a standstill. 
 
 Mr. Odell opened the door and called to the 
 driver, " What are you stopping for ? " 
 
 " The gentleman wants to speak to you, sir," 
 was the answer, and, on the heels of the words, 
 another voice. 
 
 " Is Captain Carver in this carriage ? " 
 
 Winthrop leaned across Mrs. Townley and 
 laid his hand on the handle to the other door. 
 
 " Wait, wait a minute," Celia implored in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " What do you want of him ? " demanded Mr. 
 Odell. 
 
 " The pilot sent me up from the Ca/poline to find 
 out if the captain didn't think we'd better wait 
 till to-morrow, seeing it's got so late, to go down 
 the river. Is he in the carriage?" 
 
 "All right," said Mr. Odell, "we'll see the 
 pilot. Drive on." He slammed the door, and 
 the carriage began jolting along again. 
 
 Celia and Winthrop exchanged a glance of 
 quick alarm. Neither spoke, but to both the 
 situation seemed critical. But it was Mr. Odell's 
 turn now to rise to the emergency. Indeed, he 
 was not greatly disturbed by it. Out at sea 
 
THE AWAKENING 279 
 
 a pilot had proved more than a match for him, 
 but they were still on land, and the case was 
 altered. 
 
 " Don't worry about the pilot," he said. 
 "We'll be able to make him see things differ- 
 ently without much trouble. And here we are. 
 Remember, I'm to help Winthrop out first, and 
 you're to wait." 
 
 They had arranged this detail in advance ; it 
 had cost them indeed a good deal of thought. 
 As soon as he had Winthrop out of the carriage, 
 he was to lead him across the wharf to the gang- 
 plank, and was to send whoever came to meet 
 them back to the assistance of the ladies. That 
 would get at least one person out of the way, 
 and might postpone the meeting with others 
 until they were in the comparative darkness of 
 the Caroline's main deck. 
 
 Since the interruption of their drive by the 
 messenger from the ship, Mrs. Townley's con- 
 dition had rapidly grown worse again, and now 
 it was positively alarming. She was very white, 
 and the trembling of her lips and her long, fine 
 hands made it evident enough that she had not a 
 shred of self-command left. 
 
 " We're there, mother," said Celia, as though 
 the ordeal were over, and not just about to begin. 
 " All we have to do is to wait here till some one 
 comes to help us out of the carriage." 
 
280 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 The carriage was pulling up, the steward 
 already hurrying across the gang-plank ; Mr. 
 Odell had the door open and was halfway out 
 of the carriage, but he found time for a glance 
 at Mrs. Townley's face and a quiet word to Win- 
 throp. 
 
 " You're not to stop, whatever happens, back 
 here. It'll be none of your business." Then 
 aloud, " Now, Captain, easy ! There's no hurry." 
 
 Winthrop descended heavily, and had just 
 time to turn away from the carriage, leaning on 
 Mr. Odell's shoulder, when the steward was 
 beside them. 
 
 " Look out for the ladies, will you ? " said Mr. 
 Odell. " I've got the captain, all right." 
 
 So far all was well, for the steward obeyed 
 instantly, but they had only got the lesser lion 
 out of the path. The pilot was already crossing 
 the gang-plank and coming toward them. How 
 they were to get by without giving him a chance 
 for a question and putting Winthrop to the 
 necessity of making a reply, neither could guess. 
 For the next five seconds there was nothing to 
 do but to walk blindly up to the peril. 
 
 But when he was still perhaps three paces 
 from them, Mr. Odell saw his gaze leave them 
 suddenly and go to the carriage, and an instant 
 later they heard an outcry from Celia. It had 
 so genuinely the ring of terror in it that even 
 
THE AWAKENING 281 
 
 the older man faltered, while Winthrop stopped 
 short and turned. The sharp grip on his arm, 
 however, recalled him to his part, and he sub- 
 mitted to be led across the gang-plank. The 
 path was clear, for the pilot had run to the car- 
 riage. The others whom they met on the way 
 were easily sent off to the assistance of the lady 
 who had fainted, and within two minutes of the 
 time they had left the carriage, Winthrop was 
 safe in the captain's cabin. 
 
 Almost immediately after them came Celia 
 and the little group who were awkwardly carry- 
 ing Mrs. Townley, for Mr. Odell had rightly 
 guessed the cause of Celia's outcry. She was 
 still unconscious, and they carried her through 
 the saloon to the state-room that had been se- 
 lected for her. Mr. Odell stepped out into the 
 saloon just in time to hear Mr. White telling a 
 boy to run and fetch a doctor. 
 
 " I don't believe that's necessary," he said — 
 for every moment of delay now in casting off 
 and getting away was big with chances against 
 them. " She's not been well and she's fainted, 
 but she ought to be right again in five minutes. 
 And it's high time we were off, without any 
 more delay." 
 
 The mate looked at him questioningly and 
 asked if they had not met the messenger from 
 the pilot. 
 
282 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " Oh, yes, I had his message. I'll see him in 
 a moment. But we must find out about Mrs. 
 Townley, first." 
 
 So they stood there for two or three minutes, 
 the one asking aimless questions about the cap- 
 tain's condition, and the other answering almost 
 equally at random. 
 
 " I think I will send for a doctor, if you 
 please," said the mate, at the end of that time. 
 " The matter may be serious." 
 
 It was quite true, and Mr. Odell was about to 
 assent when Celia came out into the saloon. 
 
 He had always admired her ; during these 
 past two or three days he had often wished he 
 had a daughter just like her, but never so much 
 as at this moment. She answered Mr. White's 
 inquiry with the prettiest grace in the world. 
 It wasn't necessary at all to send for a doctor, 
 she said, and she concluded, with a smile that 
 was half tremulous and wholly adorable, " I was 
 dreadfully frightened. I'm afraid I was rather 
 silly." 
 
 Even as Mr. White saw her she was lovely, 
 and he saw only what was plain to see ; as for 
 Patrick Odell, who knew the steady courage 
 burning in those bright eyes, the pluck in those 
 tremulously smiling lips, he could only glance 
 and glance away and endeavor to blink away the 
 tears which at her smile had sprung into his eyes. 
 
THE AWAKENING 283 
 
 She stayed only long enough to hear Mr. White's 
 polite assurances and Mr. Odell's fragmentary 
 congratulations, and then went swiftly back to 
 her mother. 
 
 "We'll attend to that matter with the pilot 
 now, if you please, Mr. White." Mr. Odell spoke 
 in a drier tone even than was usual with him. 
 " Will you ask him to come down here ? " 
 
 " Well, Mr. Pilot," he said, when the mate 
 reappeared with him, " I understand you aren't 
 exactly inclined to take us down the river in the 
 dark." 
 
 " Are you very anxious to go ? " asked the pilot. 
 " What does the captain think about it ? " 
 
 "Ask him," said Mr. Odell. "Mr. White's 
 captain this trip. Captain Carver isn't well 
 enough to be referred to at all." As he spoke, 
 he moved a little farther away from the cabin 
 door as if to prevent Martin from overhearing 
 what they said. " But I am anxious to go. It's 
 important that I should be in Nassau by Friday 
 morning, and Captain Carver, too." 
 
 " It's this way," said the pilot. " The river's 
 high, and the tide's running out, and there's going 
 to be a white fog to-night, till midnight anyway. 
 Leaving out our chance of striking a snag that 
 would dig a hole in her, we're likely to get 
 aground somewhere and stick. No — I'd say 
 wait." 
 
284 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 " I'm anxious enough to be in Nassau Friday 
 to run a bigger risk ; to run a bigger risk and to 
 pay for the privilege. I'll pay you a bonus of a 
 thousand dollars if you'll take us out to-night." 
 
 " I guess you haven't exactly got the bearings 
 of this business," said the pilot, ironically. " I 
 get paid all I ask for pilotage these days, and it 
 wasn't because I v^^anted more that I said w^e'd 
 wait till to-morrow." 
 
 If Mr. Odell had, as it appeared, made a 
 blunder, he was quick to retrieve it. " You're 
 quite right," he said decisively. " If you're 
 afraid you can't do it, there's an end of it, and 
 it isn't a question of money at all." He looked 
 at his watch musingly. " It's a little late to 
 try for another pilot, but we must get off some- 
 how." 
 
 " I didn't say I couldnH do it. You mean to 
 try it, anyhow, eh ? Do you suppose the cap- 
 tain — " 
 
 "Judge for yourself. He knew what time it 
 was when we left the house. He's wondering 
 this minute why we aren't off already." 
 
 " Well, then — " the pilot said. He moved 
 his feet a little nervously. "As to that bonus, 
 now — " 
 
 " Oh, that holds," said Mr. Odell. 
 
 " Thank you," said the pilot. " Here's hoping 
 we'll have luck. We'll need it." 
 
THE AWAKENING 285 
 
 A little later Celia, as she watched beside her 
 mother, heard the signal bell, felt the well-re- 
 membered pulse of the engines once more, and 
 looking out the window saw the well-known 
 landmarks on the bank slipping by. They were 
 leaving home again, and something about the 
 notion made her laugh weakly. She found 
 herself somewhat giddy, and steadied herself 
 with a hand on the window ledge, drawing her 
 breath slow and deep. Then with a gush of 
 tears she sank on her knees beside her mother's 
 bed. 
 
 As the pilot had prophesied, the white fog lay 
 heavy that night upon the river and the marshes, 
 all the way from Wilmington to the sea. The 
 sky was clear and the moonlight, turning the 
 mist to silver, made it all the more opaque, so 
 that navigation was no easy matter. Neverthe- 
 less, the river to-night was a scene of unusual 
 activity. There w^ere nondescript craft of vari- 
 ous sorts plying up and down all the evening, 
 little steamers and launches, and now and then 
 a long tow of empty rowboats. About eight 
 o'clock, the A. D. Vance, a blockade-runner 
 owned by the state of North Carolina, steamed 
 slowdy down past Campbell's Island, her decks 
 crowded with soldiers. 
 
 The channel there sets in close to the south- 
 
286 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 east face of the island, and the ship and the 
 cargo she carried were plainly visible to two 
 men who were crouching just behind the point 
 of it. They were squatting low in the mud 
 and water, and had between them a small log 
 which they had used as a support in swimming. 
 The older man — and he was much too old for 
 such an adventure as this seemed to be — showed 
 plainly, in spite of his efforts to hide them, the 
 signs of exhaustion and suffering, and his com- 
 panion took occasion, while he was gazing 
 eagerly at the steamer, to cast a dubious look 
 at him. 
 
 " We might as well heave to right here for a 
 spell, I guess," he said. " We ain't going to be 
 in time, anyway." 
 
 " They'll have to wait for the moon to set, 
 Bill," the other answered. " We've got more 
 than four hours yet. And they haven't got 
 every boat on the river. We'll find something 
 yet. That's all we need, and the Johnnies will 
 find something they don't expect when they get 
 outside." 
 
 So far he spoke hopefully, but a moment 
 later, stifling a groan of pain, he leaned wearily 
 on his companion. " I guess you'd better go on 
 alone, Bill. It's no good taking me any farther, 
 and if you were alone, perhaps you could get 
 out in time." 
 
THE AWAKENING 287 
 
 " And you ? " demanded the otlier with kindly 
 irony. " What'd you do then, Captain ? " 
 
 " I'll take the log and get as near salt water 
 as I can before I go down to stay. I never 
 thought to lie in fresh, but it's better'n what 
 they wanted to give us, damn 'em. And the 
 tide'll give me a taste of salt everj^ day." 
 
 His companion's hand fell lightly on his 
 shoulder. " Listen," he said. 
 
 The}' might have heard it before, for the night 
 was still, had it not been for the Vance — the 
 rhythmic click of a pair of oars in ill-fitting 
 locks. The boat was coming round the west 
 side of the island, making it seem probable that 
 whoever was aboard liked the company the main 
 channel afforded as little as they did. 
 
 " There's only one man rowing," said the elder 
 man, after listening a minute. " If there ain't too 
 many passengers, we've got our boat right here." 
 
 " Sure and easy. He's most likely a nigger 
 who'll be scared to death if we say boo to him. 
 There ! I can make him out. There's no one 
 else in the boat, as I can see." 
 
 " He don't row like a nigger. He rows like 
 a deep-sea sailor." 
 
 The other assented with a nod. "Maybe it 
 won't be so easy, after all." 
 
 " It's the best chance we'll have," said the old 
 man. 
 
288 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 The oarsman was pulling steadily along in 
 about five feet of water. Half wading, half 
 swimming, the two slipped noiselessly out into 
 his path. Their procedure was simplified by the 
 fact that they had to do with a practised oars- 
 man ; the boat never swerved a point out of its 
 course. In about thirty seconds he would be 
 abreast of them. 
 
 " Stay back a little," breathed the younger 
 man, in a noiseless whisper. " I can pull him 
 into the water. Two of us would only make 
 a mess of it." 
 
 Without waiting for any repl}^, he moved for- 
 ward a little, exactly into the path of the boat, 
 and crouched down so that he was submerged to 
 the eves. So he waited till the bow was within 
 
 ft/ 
 
 arm's length, then with his hand he pushed it 
 gently aside and, as the oarsman turned in his 
 seat, he vaulted suddenly upon the gunwale. 
 The cranky little river-skiff capsized instantly, 
 and began to sink. 
 
 So far all had gone exactly according to his 
 calculations, but at that very moment his part 
 in the affair, except as an entirely passive one, 
 was over. For, instead of sprawling wildly, as 
 he might have been expected to do, in the effort 
 to right his boat and recover his balance, the 
 oarsman struck. A short fore-arm blow was 
 all he had time for, but it landed fairly on his 
 
THE AWAKENING 289 
 
 assailant's neck, and the two men were slumped 
 into the river together. 
 
 The old man rushed forward at the sound of 
 the blow, and when the oarsman, alone, rose 
 dripping out of the water, he stood only a short 
 space from him. He had his arm drawn back 
 to strike, but the man's great height as he drew 
 himself up to it, the familiar outline of his 
 mighty, stooping shoulders, the flash of recog- 
 nition that these hints kindled, arrested the 
 blow. 
 
 " You ! " he said hoarsely. 
 
 Martin was but a second behind him. " Cap- 
 tain Dearborn ! " he said. 
 
 They stood silent for an instant ; then Martin 
 added quickly, "You'd better look after the 
 boat." He himself disappeared again under 
 the water, to come up holding the limp form 
 of the sailor. Without another word he waded 
 ashore with him. Captain Dearborn following, 
 dragging the boat and capturing the drifting oars. 
 
 Martin laid the man on the muddy bank, lis- 
 tened for the beat of his heart, and began work- 
 ing his arms vigorously up and down. After 
 Captain Dearborn had emptied the water out 
 of the boat, he pulled it up on the bank and 
 came and stood beside him. 
 
 " You've done for him, I reckon," he said. 
 
 "No, he'll be right directly." Then, as the 
 
290 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 man began breathing again without assistance^ 
 he added, " He'll do very well by himself now. 
 We'd better be off." 
 
 Between them they carried the still uncon- 
 scious sailor to the boat and shoved off, Martin 
 again taking the oars, and Captain Dearborn 
 sitting in the stern, holding the head of his 
 fallen comrade on his knees. 
 
 The fact that it was so obviously the hour to 
 do and not to talk, and the fear that the sounds 
 of the brief struggle might have fallen on other 
 ears than their own, caused Martin to settle to 
 his work again without a word, and, as he sup- 
 posed, accounted for his old commander's silence 
 also. 
 
 But a little later the sailor sat up, looked 
 around, trying to get the bearings of the new 
 situation, and finally asked, " Have they took 
 us, Captain ? " 
 
 Still, to Martin's surprise, the captain said 
 not a word, and after waiting a moment he 
 answered the question himself. 
 
 " No," he said, " you've tumbled into the best 
 sort of luck. Lie down again and keep quiet." 
 
 " I guess we'd better get the rights of this 
 business," said the old man, and Martin noted 
 that he used no form of address whatever. 
 " Ain't you going to take us down to the fort 
 and give us up ? " 
 
THE AWAKENING 291 
 
 Martin shot him a look of clear astonishment, 
 and then leaned forward so that the other could 
 see his face more clearly through the bright mist. 
 " You knew me a moment ago," he said gently. 
 "I'm Martin Carver. I'm going to try to get 
 you off, of course." 
 
 " Well, would you mind telling me why, 
 Captain ? " 
 
 " You needn't worry about that now," he 
 said soothingly. "You're going to get ofP, all 
 right." 
 
 But the effect of the words was anything but 
 soothing. " Don't talk to me as if I was wrong 
 in my head. I'm as right as you are. I want 
 to know what you mean to do with us." 
 
 " I've got a steamer down at Smithville wait- 
 ing for me," he answered, avoiding his former 
 tone which had so irritated the old man. 
 " She's going out to-night through the block- 
 ade. I'll find some way of getting you aboard, 
 and then I'll take you through to Nassau. I 
 don't know just how I'll do it yet, but I'll find 
 a plan before we get down there. You needn't 
 worry about it at all, either of you." 
 
 " Stow it ! " the captain retorted, roused again 
 by the implication in the last words, " I've got 
 some thinking of my own to do. I'm not crazy ; 
 though since they brought us to Wilmington I 
 thought more than once I must be getting so." 
 
292 TEAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 Martin made no answer, asked no solution to 
 the enigma in the captain's last words, and, the 
 old man volunteering none, seemed to settle him- 
 self to the thinking he had spoken of. The 
 sailor, after having asked his one question, ap- 
 peared to have gone to sleep. For the next 
 hour, except for the tireless rhythm of the oars, 
 there was silence. The tide had turned against 
 the boat, and with the load she carried she 
 moved heavily through the water, but steadily. 
 Alike without haste and without flagging, the 
 short, powerful strokes, with the half-second of 
 rest between, took her down the river. 
 
 At the end of the time, without any change in 
 his position, without once raising his eyes, the 
 old captain suddenly began speaking. His voice 
 was very low, and he spoke with the detached, 
 reflective air of one commenting on something 
 said not a moment before. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he said, " when they took us into 
 Wilmington and I began to hear about Captain 
 Martin Carver being in town and how he'd 
 turned secesh along with his dad, I thought 
 I must be crazy. And when I found it was 
 true," he sank his voice still lower, and the 
 words were no mere sailor's oath, " I wished to 
 God that they'd found out sooner about the 
 parole I'd given Semmes, and filled me full of 
 lead against a wall before I knew he'd done it. 
 
THE AWAKENING 293 
 
 Why, you was like my son, Martin," he went on. 
 " You'd sailed under me, and I'd taught you all 
 you knew, and I was as proud of you as if you'd 
 been my own son. My God, boy, why did j^ou 
 do it ? Wasn't it bad enough that he should go 
 without your going with him ? Why did you 
 do it, too ? " 
 
 Had Martin had a reply ready, he would have 
 had no chance to make it ; for without any 
 pause whatever, but in a very different tone, the 
 old man went on. " As to going out with you 
 to-night, it won't do, though we're much obliged 
 to you. I said the twenty-third of last July that 
 I'd be damned before I ever set foot on a deck 
 plank owned by John Carver again, and I say it 
 yet. And if I didn't we've got other work cut 
 out for us to-night, eh, Bill ? " 
 
 The sailor had roused when first the captain 
 had begun to speak. " Sure," he said vaguely. 
 But in another instant he was fully alive again. 
 He darted a look from his commander to the 
 oarsman, and then back again. " Are we in 
 time ? " he demanded. " Is he going out with 
 us ? If we ain't most to Federal Point there's 
 no time to lose, for they won't wait long after 
 the moon. Here, give me an oar." 
 
 He pulled himself up stiffly and reached 
 toward Martin for the oar, and in doing so he 
 recognized, for the first time, who he was. 
 
294 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 <' You — " he cried, with an oath. " Well, how 
 much do you know ? Are you going to try to 
 stop us? If you do — " 
 
 " Sit down," Martin commanded. The sailor 
 had crouched as if about to spring at him ; but 
 there was no break in the sweep of the oars. 
 
 " Don't be a fool. Bill," said Captain Dearborn, 
 gently. " We've nothing to gain by fighting." 
 
 It was good enough counsel to appeal even to 
 Bill. The gigantic size and strength of his oppo- 
 nent, and the strong probability that if there 
 should be any noise about the struggle, they 
 would not be left to finish it out by themselves, 
 made it clear enough that they could only lose 
 by leaving the matter to the primitive arbitra- 
 ment he had meant to try. 
 
 " I guess you're right about one thing," said 
 Martin, after a few moments' silence. " I guess 
 it is time to get the rights of this business. You 
 say you aren't crazy ; I suppose you aren't. There 
 are plenty of liars in the world ; I want you to 
 tell me the name of one of them." 
 
 He paused a moment ; then, quietly, but in a 
 voice vibrating with passion he asked a question 
 that made them gasp and stare in stupid aston- 
 ishment, that made them doubt for an instant 
 whether his own wits had not gone astray. 
 
 " Who was it told you I'd turned secesh ? " 
 
 " Told us ! " echoed the captain, when he had 
 
THE AWAKENING 295 
 
 got his breath. " We didn't need no telling. We 
 heard what you was doing — what you've been 
 doing since last November. We didn't need 
 any more telling than that." 
 
 The sailor laughed coarsely, and addressed his 
 captain. " If he ain't secesh, what the hell is 
 he?" 
 
 For the first time in the long hours since they 
 had left Campbell's Island, the rhythm of the 
 oars faltered, faltered and stopped. 
 
 Captain Dearborn leaned forward. " You ain't 
 good secesh, though, Martin, and that's a fact. 
 You're mean secesh. You set them on to fight, 
 you sneak things in to them to help them keep 
 it up, but you keep a whole skin yourself. Just 
 sit still there, and try to think what it means." 
 
 The last words cut deepest of all, for they 
 were an echo of the message Winthrop's hand 
 had once scrawled on a bit of paper. 
 
 In absolute silence for a short while, the little 
 boat drifted whither the tidal eddies would take 
 her. Once indeed during the time the sailor 
 moved as if about to speak, but the peremptory 
 hand of his commander stayed him. At last 
 Martin Carver again addressed himself to the 
 oars, but he pulled, the others noted, like a man 
 exhausted. 
 
 " I guess you'd better take a turn at it, Bill," 
 said the captain. " He's about spent." 
 
296 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 But Martin shook his head and went on row- 
 ing. At last he turned and pointed through the 
 mist. 
 
 " There's the Caroline^'' he said. Then, after 
 a pause, "I know what you want to do. You're 
 going to try to get out to warn the squadron of 
 an attack that is to be made to-night in boats. 
 Can I help you ? I'm under your orders." 
 
 " I guess not," said the captain, " except by 
 giving us the boat." 
 
 Martin moved forward into the bow seat. 
 " Take the oars," he said to the sailor, " and row 
 to the Caroline^ Then to the captain, " Which 
 squadron do you want to warn ? " 
 
 « East channel." 
 
 " You're sure of it ? " 
 
 " Sure. They hadn't any secrets from us. We 
 were to have been the kind of men that tell no 
 tales before this." 
 
 " Then, when they hail you from the Caroline 
 you ask if she is the Theodora. She's to go out 
 to-night and she is berthed in the Horseshoe Chan- 
 nel, near Federal Point. When they tell you so, 
 pull away in that direction. It's your way out. 
 The Caroline goes out the other channel." 
 
 " And you ? What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Never mind about me. I shan't be in your 
 way." 
 
 The sailor looked doubtfully at Captain Dear- 
 
THE AWAKENING 297 
 
 born. " Do as he tells you," said he. " It's all 
 right." 
 
 " Give way as quietly as you can," Martin 
 added. 
 
 They were almost at the ship's side, deep in 
 the long shadow she cut in the moonlight, before 
 they were hailed. They followed Martin's direc- 
 tions, and w^ere answered as he had said they 
 would be. Then, as the sailor backed water and 
 pulled the boat around, they became aware, from 
 the sudden alteration in the trim, that they w^ere 
 alone in it. Martin had slipped over the bow 
 and sunk noiselessly into the quiet water. 
 
 When he came up, he lay for a while quite still, 
 treading just enough to keep his face above the 
 surface. Then, when he had his chance, a couple 
 of strokes took him to the side, and he drew him- 
 self up in the shadow of the port paddle-box. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 Before the moon was down behind the trees 
 on Oak Island the Caroline got up her anchors 
 and steamed slowly past Smithville and around 
 the great bend in the channel west of Battery 
 Island. The mist had lifted, and the harbor in 
 the last rays of the moon was all alight. Under 
 the frowning silhouette of Fort Caswell the Caro- 
 line paused, turning her wheels just enough to 
 hold her up against the incoming tide. 
 
 "Look over there," said Mr. White. Behind 
 the fort where the expanse of the Elizabeth River 
 gave back to the slanting moonlight a faint re- 
 flection, they could see a dark mass which seemed 
 to be made up of a number of small boats. The 
 men on the bridge had not, of course, been un- 
 aware of the unwonted activity on the river to- 
 night. They, like Mr. Odell, had heard rumors 
 of it in advance, and were not without a guess 
 as to what it might mean. 
 
 " I guess I had it wrong," said the pilot. " It 
 looks as though the shindy was going to take 
 place down here. I was told it was to be up at 
 New Inlet." 
 
 "We've plenty of time yet," suggested the 
 
 298 
 
THE AWAKENING 299 
 
 other. " We might go back and try it the other 
 way." 
 
 "No," the pilot answered thoughtfully. "I 
 don't know exactly what they're going to try to 
 do, but it's as likely to help us on as it is to 
 hinder ; or more so if we time it right. There'll 
 be a few minutes to-night when the Yankees 
 will have something to think about besides the 
 runners." 
 
 The moon went down behind the trees, the 
 sky turned from steel-gray to blue black, and 
 the little points of light which spangled it began 
 twinkling brilliantly. 
 
 "We may as well be off," said the pilot. 
 With a nod of assent, Mr. White sent down 
 word to Mr. Morgan to know if he were ready 
 for the dash. 
 
 " Ready this half hour," came back the answer 
 from the engine-room. 
 
 The pilot had his hand on the signal lever, 
 when Mr. White touched his arm. "There's a 
 boat coming our way — in a hurry, too. Hear 
 how they pull." 
 
 In an instant came a hail, "What ship is 
 that ? " 
 
 Mr. White answered : " The Caroline. Do you 
 want anything with us ? " 
 
 All they got by way of immediate reply was 
 a succession of quick orders to the boat's crew, 
 
300 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 and the rattle of unshipped oars as it came 
 alongside. 
 
 The officer who had hailed clambered aboard, 
 and came up on the bridge. 
 
 " I'd like to speak to Captain Carver," he 
 said. 
 
 " I'm acting master," said Mr. White. " What 
 can I do for you ? " 
 
 " Where is the captain ? " 
 
 " In his bunk, sick. He's been sick several 
 days." 
 
 " When did he come aboard ? " 
 
 " Just before we cast off, at Wilmington." 
 
 « You saw him yourself, did you ? " 
 
 " What's all this about ? " demanded Mr. 
 White. " Of course I saw him. Why not ? " 
 
 "They telegraphed down from Wilmington a 
 few minutes ago that a man w^ho resembled 
 Captain Carver had been seen getting into a 
 river skiff up there an hour and more after the 
 Caroline had left. Since that spy got off last 
 week they've had a sharp eye out for anybody 
 who looked like the captain and wasn't. My 
 orders are to satisfy myself that it was he who 
 came aboard this afternoon." Then, to the 
 pilot ; " You saw him, too, did you ? You're 
 sure it wasn't some one else ? " 
 
 If the two men he was interrogating had been 
 capable of reviewing the facts as they actually 
 
THE AWAKENING 301 
 
 stood, they would have realized that, as it had 
 happened, no one had really had a good look 
 at the stooping, muffled figure which Mr. Odell 
 had led aboard. But few men are able to look 
 at a long-accepted fact from a novel point of 
 view, and neither of these was of the number. 
 
 " Sure it wasn't some one else ! " repeated the 
 pilot. "Do you think Mr. White and I and 
 half the ship's crew are a pack of damn fools ? 
 We all saw him in broad daylight. Don't you 
 think we know him ? " 
 
 "Maybe we don't, though," said Mr. White, 
 ironically. " Perhaps you'd better go down and 
 have a look at him yourself." 
 
 " Orders are orders," answered the lieutenant. 
 " I think I will." 
 
 He was at the head of the bridge ladder, and 
 about to descend, when a voice from below 
 stopped him. "Who is it he wants to see, 
 Mr. White ? " Looking down, the three men 
 on the bridge saw Martin Carver come slowly 
 up the ladder. As he came into the patch of 
 light from the binnacle, they saw that his dress 
 was disordered, as if hastily put on, and his face 
 was colorless under his coat of tan. When he 
 spoke it was with difficulty, like a man shud- 
 dering with cold. 
 
 " I hope you didn't turn out on my account. 
 Captain," said the lieutenant. Then, in as few 
 
302 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 words as possible, he repeated the cause of his 
 errand to the Caroline. " I suppose," he added 
 in conclusion, " that some idiot up in Wilming- 
 ton saw a tall man somewhere in the dark, and 
 thought he'd made a discovery. And the conse- 
 quence is that I've detained you and I've lost 
 my share in the action to-night. The boats 
 were getting away when I left Fort Caswell, 
 and I've got to go back there to make my 
 report." 
 
 " Fort Caswell ? " said Martin, quickly. « I 
 understood the expedition was going out New 
 Inlet." 
 
 '* Everybody thought so till this afternoon," 
 was the answer. " The orders weren't changed 
 till four o'clock. I believe they found that the 
 other squadron had been reenforced. Good night 
 to you, and good luck getting out ! " 
 
 " Can't you tell us a little more ? " the pilot 
 asked. " It may help us." 
 
 "There's no harm now, I suppose," said the 
 officer. " Stick to Bald-head Channel and you'll 
 be all right. The attack's to be made at the 
 other end of the line." 
 
 He slipped over the side, and the boat pulled 
 away. The pilot gave the long-awaited signal 
 to the engine-room. The Caroline began her 
 voyage. 
 
 Just about at the moment when Martin went 
 
THE AWAKENING 303 
 
 up on the bridge, Celia, who had heard the boat 
 come alongside, and had endured the uncertainty 
 as to what it might mean as long as she could, 
 leaving her mother asleep, came out into the 
 saloon and there encountered Mr. Odell. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked. " Do you think 
 anything has happened to Martin ? Oh, I wish 
 he would come ! " 
 
 " He's here. He came into the cabin about 
 half an hour ago. He changed his clothes, and 
 I had the steward bring him something to eat. 
 Then we heard the boat come up, so he went out 
 to see what it was. 1 wonder — " 
 
 " Listen," she said. " The boat's going away." 
 Then, as they felt the Caroline starting on her 
 way again, she sank into a chair, panting. " We're 
 safe," she said. "We're all safe at last." 
 
 « Yes," he answered. " Bar the blockade, our 
 troubles are over." 
 
 " What did Martin say ? " she asked presently. 
 " Did he have a very hard time getting off ? " 
 
 He was not, for a moment, ready with his 
 reply. As a matter of fact, Martin had left both 
 himself and Winthrop thoroughly mystified and 
 not a little alarmed. His appearance, white, 
 dripping, like the ghost of a man drowned, wild- 
 eyed as if he had seen such an apparition, his 
 manner, detached, mechanical, left them no doubt 
 that some terrible experience had befallen him 
 
304 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 since they had parted from him that afternoon. 
 But he had not answered their questions, had 
 hardly spoken a dozen words all the while he 
 was changing his clothes and eating what Mr. 
 Odell had ordered the steward to bring him. 
 And at last, just as he was leaving the cabin, 
 had come the strangest thing of all. He had his 
 hand on the latch when he turned suddenly and 
 faced his brother, as if about to speak to him. 
 But no words at all had come to his lips ; he only 
 looked at him, and such was the agony of the 
 look that both men had sprung forward to sup- 
 port him, thinking him about to fall. Then he 
 had swiftly opened the door behind him and left 
 them wondering. 
 
 Perhaps, thought Mr. Odell, Celia might have 
 the clew to it all. He would have liked to de- 
 scribe the scene to her, but he remembered how 
 much she had borne and how bravely, and seeing 
 the alarm that gathered in her face as he hesi- 
 tated over her question, he spoke, at last, quickly. 
 
 " Oh, he's all right. He's had to swim for it, 
 and he was cold and pretty well fagged out, but 
 it would take more than that to hurt him. He's 
 gone on the bridge now, I suppose, but no doubt 
 he'll turn in as soon as we're past the blockade. 
 And I'd advise you to do the same, my dear," he 
 concluded. " You've nothing more to trouble 
 your head about at all." 
 
THE AWAKENING 305 
 
 The channel from Smithville to the open sea 
 is bent in a great double curve, like the letter S. 
 The upper arc ends at Fort Caswell. From that 
 point one bore southeast for Bald-head ; then, 
 sweeping round the reverse curve, steamed south- 
 westerly out to sea. Slowly the Caroline crept 
 along, leaving the Fort right astern ; slowly she 
 swung round the curve under the feet of the 
 headland ; slowly, taking her bearings from the 
 dim range lights shown for her on Smith's 
 Island, she began moving out towards the cruis- 
 ers. Slowly at first, but at a movement of the 
 pilot's hand on the signal lever and the clank of 
 a muffled bell in the engine-room, faster, faster, 
 faster still, until she was flying along like a torn 
 gray scud of cloud across a black sky, like it, 
 silent, like it, all but invisible. 
 
 However charged with incident or even with 
 peril a deed may be, it cannot continue to be 
 exciting after it has become part of a routine. 
 Blockade-running was no longer an adventure ; 
 it was a trade, and men followed it as such, 
 just as fire-fighters, or coast-guards, or miners — 
 or, for that matter, linen-drapers — follow their 
 trade. To be wary, bold, alert, was just as 
 necessary as ever, but it was now habitual. 
 The nervous tension may have been as great 
 as ever, but it was unconscious. There was no 
 longer any holding of the breath as the Caroline 
 
306 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 drew up for her spring, any thought, for the 
 moment, of the chance of failure or the conse- 
 quences of it. 
 
 It was this confidence which prevented Mr. 
 White or the pilot from objecting to Martin's 
 presence on the bridge, for it lent the possibility 
 of a divided authority at a moment when such 
 a thing might prove disastrous. And indeed, 
 while the little craft was stealing along toward 
 the argus-eyed peril which was always ready, 
 never asleep, both men more than once with- 
 drew their eyes from the friendly dark ahead to 
 cast an uneasy glance at their captain. 
 
 But he seemed to have forgotten where he 
 was, who he was. He stood by the starboard 
 rail, motionless. Even when the pilot, with a 
 touch on his companion's arm, pointed out the 
 blurred mass of a cruiser to starboard and a 
 little ahead, he did not look at it, nor did his 
 gaze follow theirs to port to find its next neigh- 
 bor. He was looking out northwest, toward 
 the spot where the last cruiser in the line was 
 keeping guard off the Oak Island shore, to the 
 spot toward which the little army of men in 
 boats, with muffled oars, was drawing up to the 
 a utacxv. 
 
 Gray and silent as the scudding clouds which 
 raced across the sky, the Caroline flew along 
 toward the middle of the gap between the 
 
THE AWAKENING 307 
 
 cruisers. Now they were abreast, now — now 
 falling fast astern, and not the last, but the 
 greatest, peril of the night lay behind. The 
 pilot's whisper " So far," and Mr. White's shift- 
 ing to an easier position, acknowledged that it 
 was past and that it had been a peril. 
 
 Slight as it was, it was enough to wake Mar- 
 tin Carver from his dream. He wheeled sud- 
 denly and faced them, gripping Mr. White's arm 
 so tightly that he winced. They could see his 
 face working in some strange excitement. 
 
 " They're waiting for it to get darker," he 
 whispered. " There's time yet. Slow down. 
 Mr. White, have them lower away my gig. 
 Quick, man ! There's time yet, I tell you. 
 I'm going to — " 
 
 But as they stared at him stupidly, think- 
 ing him mad, there came across- the water a 
 single musket shot. It was too late. He 
 wrenched free from their arms, for they had 
 tried to hold him, and turned back toward the 
 spot whence the sound had come. The rattle 
 of a volley followed it, and another and another, 
 and the hoarse, wild shout of cheering. A 
 tongue of flame sprang into the air, and in a 
 moment the blazing vessel was lighting up the 
 sea. It all happened with the speed of a dream, 
 while the Caroline was rushing seaward. 
 
 To the men in command of her the attack 
 
308 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 meant little, one way or the other, but the mad- 
 man on the bridge meant a good deal. He was 
 very quiet again now, to be sure, but one could 
 not guess what the mood of the next instant 
 might be. 
 
 But suddenly their apprehensions about him 
 were swallowed up by another peril which was 
 rushing right down upon them. A cruiser of 
 the outer patrol, flying as fast as her roaring 
 furnaces could drive her to the aid of her stricken 
 comrade, was headed right athwart the Ca/ro- 
 line^s bows. They on her bridge had not yet 
 made out the runner at all. Both White and 
 the pilot could see that as they held the Caroline 
 would almost get clear under her bows, — al- 
 most, but not quite. The chances were that the 
 cruiser would come crashing into her somewhere 
 abaft her port paddle. 
 
 There were two courses open. One was to 
 turn the Caroline's head a little to port, and so 
 ram the cruiser instead of being rammed, but 
 the chance of getting clear and getting off after- 
 wards was desperate. There was another way, 
 and the pilot took it. 
 
 " Steady," he yelled down to the man at the 
 wheel. " Keep her as she is." In the same 
 instant he pulled a cord, and the knife-blast 
 of the Caroline's whistle cut the air. 
 
 Instinctively the cruiser obeyed the signal, 
 
THE AWAKENING 309 
 
 put her helm hard over to port, and reversed 
 her engines. There w^as just room. The 
 cruiser's stem grazed the Caroline's counter, 
 but that was all. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " demanded her com- 
 mander. Then, with quick suspicion, "What 
 ship is that ? " 
 
 "There's a runner getting out," yelled Mr. 
 White. <' Didn't you see him. He just crossed 
 your bows." 
 
 The Ca/roline's way had not been checked for 
 an instant, and she was out of sight in the dark 
 again almost before he had got the words out. 
 
 The pilot wiped his forehead with his sleeve. 
 " That was close enough," he said. 
 
 Then they turned their attention to Martin. 
 He was still standing as they had seen him be- 
 fore, gazing out toward the dying blaze off the 
 Oak Island shore. 
 
 They sent for the steward, and he and another 
 man led him away. He suffered it like a child, 
 uttering no word at all. But when they entered 
 the saloon he said to the steward : " There's a 
 passenger in my cabin. We took one on at 
 Smithville." 
 
 " Yes, yes. Captain. That's all right. I know 
 all about it. Don't you worry about it." 
 
 Martin roused himself with an effort. He 
 spoke in something like his old tone of crisp 
 
310 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 command. " Do you remember what I told you 
 three days ago ? You were to see things you 
 didn't understand, and to obey orders. There's 
 a passenger in my cabin. I'm going to stay here. 
 You needn't wait." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the steward. 
 
 Celia had followed Mr. Odell's advice only to 
 the extent of going back to her cabin and lying 
 down, fully dressed, on the bed beside her 
 mother. She acknowledged to herself quite 
 simply that she was waiting for Martin, waiting 
 to hear him step in the saloon outside the door. 
 Mr. Odell had said that there was nothing more 
 for her to worry about, and it was quite true. 
 The ordeal was over and they were all safe. 
 Her mother was asleep, and it seemed unlikely 
 that she, more than Winthrop, would long be 
 the worse for the day's experiences. And Mar- 
 tin was on the bridge. 
 
 She drew a contented little sigh. The future 
 was veiled, uncertain, but it was as though 
 shrouded in the friendly mist of an early October 
 morning, which is nothing but the promise of a 
 clear day. She and her mother would find a 
 cottage at Nassau, — there was money enough 
 for that, she reckoned, — where they could live 
 quietly till the war was over. Winthrop would 
 go back North, and Martin — 
 
THE AWAKENING 311 
 
 The thought spra-ng up suddenly in her mind, 
 sprang into words which she whispered to her- 
 self ere she knew what she was saying, that 
 Martin would still be a traitor. All his steady 
 courage, all his unquestioning loyalty, as he un- 
 derstood loyalty, though they had made her for- 
 get, could not alter the fact. He had gone back 
 to the bridge. He was still a traitor. 
 
 She denied it fiercely. What had she herself 
 said to Harper ? It was not men's opinions that 
 made them honest or mean. He did not see 
 something as she saw it, rather he did not see it 
 at all. Was it not enough if he lived honestly 
 by what he did see ? " Trading in his country's 
 necessity." That had been Winthrop's hot sen- 
 tence, and she knew she had assented to it. But 
 who were they to sit in judgment ? 
 
 Profoundly as this train of thought occupied 
 her — and she was so deep in it that the scream 
 of the Caroline's whistle had suggested no alarm 
 at all, had hardly startled her nerves — still noth- 
 ing but her mind was engaged with it. She 
 discussed it with herself as though it had in- 
 volved nothing but itself, as though from it hung 
 no corollaries. It was not until she heard Mar- 
 tin's voice as he spoke to the steward, outside 
 her door, that the question suddenly gripped her 
 heart, that she shuddered and asked herself what 
 she should do. 
 
312 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 She sat up swiftly, and put to rights her dis- 
 ordered hair. He was waiting for her, and she 
 was going out to him. What if he were a 
 traitor ? She loved him. She would have loved 
 him had his treason been twenty times deeper 
 dyed. She must hate the thing he did, she must 
 suffer for it, always perhaps. Even then, did 
 not she love him enough to suffer ? 
 
 But it was not so simple as that. He knew 
 she loved him. He had known, she was sure, 
 when they had talked together, up under the 
 rafters of the little house in Wilmington. And 
 he had not asked her to acknowledge it, had not 
 asked the reward love gives. The thing that 
 stood between them must be taken away first. 
 He had asked her what it was. 
 
 And now that he had brought them safely out 
 of danger, now that they had " a I'ight to them- 
 selves" once more, he would ask again. And 
 what was she to do ? 
 
 She could not tell him ; she could not put a 
 price on his loyalty to his country which would 
 stain it if ever it should awake. And was her 
 love for him selfish enough, mean enough, to let 
 her lie to him ? To let her look into his steady 
 eyes and say the barrier was gone, utterly, for- 
 ever ? What was left ? To meet him, as before, 
 denying. That was all. 
 
 "Not to-night, not to-night," she whispered. 
 
THE AWAKENING 313 
 
 But could to-morrow make a difference ? She 
 was not a coward. She rose and went out into 
 the dim room where the slow patrol of his steps 
 had told her he was waiting. With an un worded 
 prayer in her heart she looked up at him. 
 
 But at the sight of his gray face, the prayer, 
 the resolution, the whole web of doubt that had 
 wrapped around her, was swept away in a wave 
 of fear and wonder. 
 
 He hardly met her look at all, only for an in- 
 stant, and then he turned away from it suddenly, 
 as one shrinks back from something that hurts. 
 What he said was the very words that had been 
 upon her own lips but a moment before. " Not 
 to-night, not to-night." 
 
 She was beside him in an instant, but under 
 the touch of her hands he winced and drew back. 
 She had often thought his mind and body like 
 some great engine, so perfect was the discipline 
 in which he held them, but now he paced the 
 shabby saloon more like a great caged bear, his 
 big, unwieldy body swaying as he went. Per- 
 plexed, frightened, as she was, she was still too 
 wise to attempt to check the tempest then in 
 its full strength. But when at last she saw 
 him make an effort at self-control, she spoke 
 to him. 
 
 "Can't you tell me what it means?" she 
 asked. 
 
314 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 He did not answer for a full minute. Then 
 he turned upon her abruptly. 
 
 " I'm a traitor," he said. " You've known it 
 all winter. I know it now. I'm the kind of 
 traitor you must have despised as much as Win- 
 throp. Why are you and he willing to speak to 
 me, or to touch me ? Why would he shake hands 
 with me this afternoon ? Why did you — " 
 But even he could see the change that had come 
 in her face, the prayer of thanksgiving that had 
 sprung into her eyes, and his voice which had 
 begun bitterly grew soft and faltered. 
 
 And her answer was to come to him again, to 
 come close, closer, to clasp her hands behind his 
 head and draw it down. " It has come right at 
 last," she said. " I knew it would come right." 
 
 He did not shrink now from her caressing 
 hands. His own were in her brown hair. 
 
 So for a while, but then quickly he unclasped 
 them. 
 
 "No," he said, "no, not that. Why did you 
 tempt me ? I know. Because you love me. And 
 for to-night you've forgotten that you despise 
 me, too. But you'll remember again. You could 
 never forget it. You'd be ashamed." He let fall 
 her hands. 
 
 « Never ashamed after to-day," she said. « Even 
 if you had never known — what you know now, 
 even if you'd gone back — I'd have broken my 
 
THE AWAKENING 315 
 
 heart, perhaps, but I wouldn't have been ashamed 
 Not after to-day and all these last days." 
 
 " To-day," he repeated dully. " These last 
 days." Then, as he guessed part of her meaning : 
 " What difference can they make ? What differ- 
 ence can anything make ? It can't alter what I 
 am." 
 
 Another wave of the storm seemed about to 
 break over him, and she spoke quickly. 
 
 " Martin," she said, " won't you let me help 
 you ? Won't you sit down here and talk about 
 it with me quietly ? I've been over it all so 
 many, many times, and now I think I understand. 
 I know I can help. Come." 
 
 He obeyed and sat down at a table, opposite 
 the chair she had taken for herself, his locked 
 hands thrust out before him. She found 
 when she tried to begin that her lips were 
 trembling. 
 
 " When you first did it," she said, " I felt as 
 though that one thing stained everything else. I 
 thought you couldn't be anything else but that, 
 — I thought you couldn't have done it unless 
 you were afraid, and disloyal to everything, and 
 mean. I knew that couldn't be true if you 
 were — you. It seemed as if you must have 
 changed. You remember the night you took us 
 through the blockade ? Well, it comforted me a 
 little to see how brave you were, to know that 
 
316 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 it hadn't made you a coward. And then, when 
 Winthrop came, and I saw what you did to help 
 him — " 
 
 " What would you have had me do ? Give 
 him up ? " 
 
 "That's it," she cried. "That's it, just ex- 
 actly. If you'd thought there was any credit 
 in risking your life for him, if you'd thought 
 that there was anything else you could possibly 
 have done — but you didn't, not once. And 
 after that I wasn't ashamed. And I knew that 
 you were nothing else that w^as bad, except a 
 traitor, and that you were that just because you 
 didn't see. Martin, I think I know why you 
 didn't see. You've never had any country at 
 all. All the country you had was your father's 
 fleet. And you were loyal to that. But you 
 have a country now ! You've found your coun- 
 try, and it isn't too late." 
 
 " No, I thank God for that." He sat there, 
 locking and unlocking his hands. " I'm going 
 North," he went on simply. " I'm going to 
 Washington, to tell them what I've done and 
 ask them to let me enlist and try to pay." 
 
 There was a moment of silence ; then suddenly 
 he demanded : " But how can I pay ? What 
 can I do more than so many others are doing, 
 who haven't any debt ? " 
 
 "None of us can pay — that way," she an- 
 
THE AWAKENING 317 
 
 swered gravely. " We have to ask to have our 
 debts forgiven us." 
 
 They fell silent for a while after that, but it 
 was a silence big with meaning for both of them. 
 " And when I have paid as well as I can," he 
 said at last. " After I have paid, Celia — " 
 
 He did not finish. The word " after " brought 
 the same thought to both of them. He saw her 
 pale a little. His own breath came quick. 
 
 " Before ? " he demanded. " Can it be be- 
 fore ? There'll be a steamer in a week to take 
 me North — but those days ? Can't I have 
 them ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said. " I want it to be that way. 
 It must be that way. And then I'll let you go 
 — to pay it as well as you can. Oh, are you 
 sure there'll be a week ? " 
 
 There passed no caress between them ; they 
 sat as they had before, leaning forward over the 
 table, and talked of the past, and planned their 
 little future ; how they would be married in the 
 church under the silk cotton trees, how they 
 would pass the days — as if each had been a 
 year — before he was to go. 
 
 How long they sat there they did not know, 
 but it was dawn before she said, pointing to the 
 brightening windows : " I must go. Mother will 
 be waking presently." 
 
 They both rose, and she, about to leave him, 
 
318 TRAITOR AND LOYALIST 
 
 hesitated. Then, a wave of color sweeping 
 over her face, she held it up for him to kiss. 
 
 His own went crimson. He took her in his 
 great hands. 
 
 " Have I any right to be happy ? " he de- 
 manded. 
 
 "You've a right to make me happy." That, 
 and the kiss, were her answer. 
 
THE NOVELS OF 
 
 WINSTON CHURCHILL 
 
 Skillful in plot, dramatic in episode, powerful and original in climax. 
 
 MR. CREWELS CAREER. Illus. by A.I. Keller and Kinneys. 
 
 A New England state is under the political domination 
 of a railway and Mr. Crewe, a millionaire, seizes the moment 
 when the cause of the people against corporation greed is 
 being espoused by an ardent young attorney, to further his 
 own interest in a political way, by taking up this cause. 
 
 The daughter of the railway president, with the sunny 
 humor and shrewd common sense of the New England girl, 
 plays no small part in the situation as well as in the life of the 
 young attorney who stands so unflinchingly for clean politics. 
 
 THE CROSSING . Illus. by S. Adamson and L. Baylis. 
 
 Describing the battle of Fort Moultrie and the British 
 fleet in the harbor of Charleston, the blazing of the Kentucky 
 wilderness, the expedition of Clark and his handful of daunt- 
 less followers in Illinois, the beginning of civilization along 
 the Ohio and Mississippi, and the treasonable schemes builded 
 against Washington and the Federal Government. 
 
 CONISTON. Illustrated by Florence Scovel Shinn. 
 
 A deft blending of love and politics distinguishes this 
 book. The author has taken for his hero a New Englander, 
 a crude man of the tannery, who rose to political prominence 
 by his own powers, and then surrendered all for the love of a 
 woman. 
 
 It is a sermon on civic righteousness, and a love story of a 
 deep motive. 
 
 THE CELEBRITY. An Episode. 
 
 An inimitable bit of comedy describing an interchange of 
 personalities between a celebrated author and a bicycle sales- 
 man of the most blatant type. The story is adorned with 
 some character sketches more living than pen work. It is the 
 purest, keenest fun — no such piece of humor has appeared for 
 years : it is American to the core. 
 
 THE CRISIS. Illus. by Howard Chaxidler Christy. 
 
 A book that presents the great crisis in our national life 
 with splendid power and with a sympathy, a sincerity, and a 
 patriotism that are inspiring. The several scenes in the book 
 in which Abraham Lincoln figures must be read in their en- 
 tirety for they give a picture of that great, magnetic, lovable 
 man, which has been drawn with evident affection and excep- 
 tional success. 
 
 Grosset & DuNLAP, 526 West 26th St., New York 
 
THE NOVELS OF 
 
 GEO RGE BARR McCUTCHEON 
 
 - - ... _ 
 
 GRAUSTARK. 
 
 A story of love behind a throne, telling how a young 
 American met a lovely girl and followed her to a new and 
 strange country. A thrilling, dashing narrative. 
 
 BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK. 
 
 Beverly is a bewitching American girl who has gone to 
 that stirring little principality — Graustark — to visit her friend 
 the princess, and there has a romantic affair of her own. 
 
 BREWSTER'S MILLIONS. 
 
 A young man is required to spend one million dollars in 
 one year in order to inherit seven. How he does it forms the 
 basis of a lively story. 
 
 CASTLE CRANEYCROW. 
 
 The story revolves round the abduction of a young Amer- 
 ican woman, her imprisonment in an old castle and the adven- 
 tures created through her rescue. 
 
 COWARDICE COURT. 
 
 An amusing social feud in the Adirondacks in which an 
 English girl is tempted into being a traitor by a romantic 
 young American, forms the plot. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF ANDERSON CROW. 
 
 The story centers about the adopted daughter of the town 
 mnrshal in a western village. Her parentage is shrouded in 
 mystery, and the story concerns the secret that deviously 
 works to the surface. 
 
 THE MAN FROM BRODNEY'S. 
 
 The hero meets a princess in a far-away island among 
 fanatically hostile Musselmen. Romantic love making amid 
 amusing situations and exciting adventures. 
 
 NEDRA. 
 
 A young couple elope from Chicage to go to London 
 traveling as brother and sister. They are shipwrecked and a 
 strange mix-up occurs on account of it. 
 
 THE SHERRODS. 
 
 The scene is the Middle West and centers around a man 
 who leads a double life. A most enthralling novel. 
 
 TRUXTON KING. 
 
 A handsome good natured young fellow ranges on the 
 earth looking for romantic adventures and is finally enmeshed 
 in most complicated intrigues in Graustark. 
 
 Grosset & DuNLAP, 526 West 26th St., New York 
 
A FEW OF 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP'S 
 
 Great Books at Little Prices 
 
 HAPPY HAWKINS. By Robert Alexander Wason. lUus- 
 trated by Howard Giles. 
 
 A ranch and cowboy novel. Happy Hawkins tells his own story 
 with such a fine capacity for knowing how to do it and with so much 
 humor that the reader's interest is held in surprise, then admiration 
 and at last in positive affection. 
 
 COMRADES. By Thomas Dixon, Jr. Illustrated by C. D. 
 Williams. 
 
 The locale of this story is in California, where a few socialists 
 establish a little community. 
 
 The author leads the little band along the path of disillusion- 
 ment, and gives some brilliant flashes of light on one side of an 
 important question. 
 
 TONO-BUNGAY. By Herbert George Wells. 
 
 The hero of this novel is a young man who, through hard work, 
 earns a scholarship and goes to London. 
 
 Written with a frankness verging on Rousseau's, Mr. Wells still 
 uses rare discrimination and the border line of propriety is never 
 crossed. An entertaining book with both a story and a moral, and 
 without a dull page— Mr. Wells's most notable achievement./^ 
 
 A HUSBAND BY PROXY. By Jack Steele. . 1--^ 
 
 A young criminologist, but recently arrived in New York city, 
 is drawn into a mystery, partly through financial need and partly 
 through his interest in a beautiful woman, who seems at times the 
 simplest child and again a perfect mistress of intrigue, A baffling 
 detective story. 
 
 LIKE ANOTHER HELEN. By George Horton. Illus- 
 trated by C. M. Relyea. 
 
 Mr. Horton's powerful romance stands in a new field and brings 
 an almost unknown world in reality before the reader — the world 
 of conflict between Greek and Turk on the Island of Crete. The 
 *' Helen " of the story is a Greek, beautiful, desolate, defiant — ^pure 
 as snow. 
 
 There is a certain new force about the story, a kind of master- 
 craftsmanship and mental dominance that holds the reader. 
 
 THE MASTER OF APPLEBY. By Francis Lynde. 
 Illustrated by T. de Thulstrup. 
 
 "A novel tale concerning itself in part with the great struggle in 
 the two Carolinas, but chiefly with the adventures therein of two 
 gentlemen who loved one and the same lady. 
 
 A strong, masculine and persuasive story. 
 
 A MODERN MADONNA. By Caroline Abbot Stanley. 
 A story of American life, founded on facts as they existed some 
 
 J rears ago in the District of Columbia. The theme is the maternal 
 ove and splendid courage of a woman. 
 
 Grosset & DuNLAP, 526 West 26th St. , New York 
 
A FEW OF 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP'S 
 
 Great Books at Little Prices 
 
 WHEN A MAN MARRIES. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. 
 Illustrated by Harrison Fisher and Mayo Bunker. 
 
 A young artist, whose wife had recently divorced him, finds that 
 a visit is due from his Aunt Selina, an elderly lady having ideas 
 about things quite apart from the Bohemian set in which her 
 nephew is a shining light. The way in which matters are tempo- 
 rarily adjusted forms the motif of the story. 
 
 A farcical extravaganza, dramatized under the title of "Seven Days" 
 
 THE FASHIONABLE ADVENTURES OF JOSHUA 
 CRAIG. By David Graham Phillips. Illustrated. 
 A young westerner, uncouth and unconventional, appears in 
 political and social life in Washington. He attains power in poli- 
 tics, and a young woman of the exclusive set becomes his wife, un- 
 dertaking his education in social amenities. 
 
 "DOC." GORDON. By Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman. Illus- 
 trated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 Against the familiar background of American town life, the 
 author portrays a group of people strangely involved in a mystery. 
 "Doc. Gordon, the one physician of the place. Dr. Elliot, his 
 assistant, a beautiful woman and her altogether charming daughter 
 are all involved in the plot. A novel of great interest. 
 
 HOLY ORDERS. By Marie Corelli. 
 
 A dramatic story, in which is pictured a clergyman in touch with 
 society people, stage favorites, simple village folk, powerful finan- 
 ciers and others, each presenting vital problems to this man "in 
 holy orders" — problems that we are now struggling with in America. 
 
 KATRINE. By Elinor Macartney Lane. With frontispiece. 
 
 Katrine, the heroine of this story, is a lovely Irish girl, of lowly 
 birth, but gifted with a beautiful voice. 
 
 The narrative is based on the facts of an actual singer's career, 
 and the viewpoint throughout is a most exalted one. 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF FIFI. By Molly Elliot Seawall. 
 Illustrated by T. de Thulstrup. 
 A story of life in France at the time of the first Napoleon. Fifi, 
 a glad, mad little actress of eighteen, is the star performer in a third 
 rate Parisian theatre. A story as dainty as a Watteau painting. 
 
 SHE THAT HESITATES. By Harris Dickson. Illus- 
 trated by C. W. Relyea. 
 
 The scene of this dashmg romance shifts from Dresden to St. 
 Petersburg in the reign of Peter the Great, and then to New Orleans. 
 
 The hero is a French Soldier of Fortune, and the princess, who 
 hesitates — but you must read the story to know how she that hesitates 
 may be lost and yet saved. 
 
 - 
 
 Grosset & DuNLAP, 526 West 26th St., New York 
 
This book must not 
 be taken from the 
 Library building.