Brave Old Salt; or, Life on the Quarter Deck: A Story of the Great Rebellion Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  THE WOUNDED SAILOR.

  The curiosity of Somers was not a little excited before he opened theuncouth letter in his hand. It was postmarked Philadelphia, which madeits reception all the more strange, for he had no friends oracquaintances residing in the city. He tore open the dirty epistle,which was not even enclosed in an envelope, and read as follows:--

  PHILA. June the 19. 1864.

  MR. JOHN SOMERS ESQ. Sir. I been wounded in the leg up the Missippi andcan not do nothing more. I been in your division aboard the Rosalie, andI know you was a good man and I know you was a good officer, I hope yoube in good helth, as I am not at this present writen. my Leg is verybad, and don't git no better. This is to inform you that I am the onlyson of a poor widdow, who has no other Son, and she can not do nothingfor me, nor I can't do nothing for her. I have Fout for my countrey andhave been woundded in the servis. If you could git a penshin for me. itwould be a grate help to me Sorrowin condition. I live No -- FrontStreet. If I might make bold to ask you to come and see a old Sailor,thrown on the beam ends of missfortune, I would be very thankful to you.

  Yours to command,

  THOMAS BARRON.

  N. B. The doctor says he thinks my Leg will have to come off.

  Tom Longstone knows me, and you ask him, he will tell you all About me.

  "Thomas Barron," mused Somers, as he folded the letter. "I don'tremember him. There were two or three Toms on board the Rosalie. At anyrate, I have nothing better to do than call upon him. He is an oldsailor, and that is enough for me."

  It was already after dark; but he decided to visit the sufferer thatnight, and after tea he left the house for this purpose. He wassufficiently acquainted with the streets of this systematic city to makehis way without assistance. Of course he did not expect to find the homeof the old sailor in a wealthy and aristocratic portion of the city; butif he had understood the character of the section to which the directionled him, he would probably have deferred his charitable mission till thefollowing day. On reaching the vicinity of the place indicated, hefound himself in a vile locality, surrounded by the lowest and mostdepraved of the population.

  With considerable difficulty he found the number mentioned in theletter. The lower story of the building was occupied as a liquor shop,and a further examination of the premises assured him the place was asailor's boarding-house. As this fact was not inconsistent with thecharacter of Tom Barron, he entered the shop. Half a dozen vagabonds hadpossession; and as Somers entered, the attention of the whole group wasdirected to him.

  "Is there a sailor by the name of Thomas Barron in this house?" askedSomers of the greasy, corpulent woman, who stood behind about four feetof counter, forming the bar, on which were displayed several bottles anddecanters.

  "Yes, sir; and very bad he is too," replied the woman, civilly enough,though the young officer could hardly help shuddering in her presence.

  "Could I see him?"

  "I 'spect you can, if you be the officer Tom says is comin' to see him."

  "I am the person."

  "Tom's very bad."

  "So he says in his letter."

  "He hain't had a minute's peace or comfort with that leg sence he comehome from the war. Be you any relation of his?"

  "I am not."

  "Mebbe you're his friend."

  "He served under me in the Rosalie."

  "Tom hain't paid no board for two months, which comes hard on a poorwoman like me, takin' care of him, and his mother too, that come here tonuss him."

  "Perhaps something can be done for him."

  "Well, I hope so. I don't see how I can keep him any longer. He owes meforty dollars. If any body'll pay half on't, I'd keep on doin' for him."

  "I will see what can be done for him. Why was he not sent to thehospital?"

  "He's too bad to be sent, and he don't want to go, nuther. He says thedoctors try speriments on poor fellers like him, and he don't want to becut up afore he's dead."

  "Well, I will endeavor to have something done for him. I am entirelywilling to help him as much as I can."

  "Perhaps you'd be willin' to do sunthin' towards payin' my bill, then."

  "Perhaps I will; but I wish to see the man before I do anything. Willyou show me to his room?"

  "I don't go up and down stairs none now. Here, Childs, you show thisgentleman up to the front room," said the landlady to one of thevagabonds before her. "Then go and tell Tom his officer has come. Isuppose they'll want to slick up a little, afore they let you in; butMiss Barron will tell you when she is ready."

  Somers followed the man up a flight of rickety stairs, and was usheredinto the front room. It was a bedchamber, supplied with the rudest andcoarsest furniture. The visitor sat down, after telling Childs that thesailor's mother need not stop to "slick up" before he was admitted. Hedid not like the surroundings, even independent of the villainous odorsthat rose from the groggery, and those that were engendered in theapartment where he sat. Slush and tar were agreeable perfumes, comparedwith those which assaulted his sense in this chamber; and he hoped Mrs.Barron would humiliate her pride to an extent which would permit him tomake a speedy exit from the house.

  Mrs. Barron, however, appeared not to be in a hurry, and Somers waitedten minutes by his watch, which seemed to expand into a full hour beforehe heard a sound to disturb the monotony of the chamber's quiet. Butwhen it was disturbed, it was in such a manner that he forgot all aboutthe place and the odors, the hour and the occasion, and even the poorsailor, who had so piteously appealed to him for assistance.

  In the rear of the room in which Somers sat, there was a doorcommunicating with another apartment. The house was old and out ofrepair; and this door, never very nicely adjusted, was now warped andthrown out of place, so that great cracks yawned around the edges, andwhatever was said or done in one room, of which any knowledge could beobtained by the sense of hearing, was immediately patent to theoccupants of the other. Somers heard footsteps in the rear room, thoughthe parties appeared not to have come up the stairs by which he hadascended. The rattling of chairs and of glass ware next saluted hisears; but as yet Somers had not the slightest interest in the businessof the adjoining apartment, and only wished that Mrs. Barron wouldspeedily complete the preparations for his reception.

  "It's dangerous business," said one of the men in the rear room; whichremark followed a smack of the lips, and a rude depositing of the glasson the table, indicating that the speaker had just swallowed his dram.

  The man uttered his remark in a loud tone, exhibiting a strangecarelessness, if the matter in hand was as dangerous as the wordsimplied.

  "I know it is dangerous, Langdon," said another person, in a voice whichinstantly riveted the attention of the listener.

  Somers heard the voice. It startled him, and he had no eye, ear, orthought for anything but the individual who had last spoken. If he hadconsidered his position at all, it would only have been to wish thatMrs. Barron might be as proud as a Chestnut Street belle, in order toafford him time to inform himself in relation to the business of the menwho occupied the other room.

  "You have been shut up in Fort Lafayette once," added the first speaker.

  "In a good cause I am willing to go again," replied the voice sofamiliar to the ears of Somers. "I lost eighty thousand dollars in aventure just like this. I must get my money back."

  "If you can, Coles."

  Coles! But Somers did not need to have his identity confirmed by the useof his name. He knew Coles's voice. At Newport he had lain in thefore-sheets of the academy boat, and heard Coles and Phil Kennedy maturetheir plan to place the Snowden on the ocean, as a Confederate cruiser.He had listened to the whole conversation on that occasion, and theknowledge he had thus obtained enabled the government to capture thesteamer, and defeat the intentions of the conspirators.

  The last Somers had known of Coles, he was a prisoner in Fort Lafayette.Probably he had been released by the same influence which set PhilKennedy at libert
y, and permitted him to continue his career of treasonand plunder. Coles had lost eighty thousand dollars by his speculationin the Snowden, for one half of which Kennedy was holden to him; but thebond had been effectually cancelled by the death of the principal. Coleswanted his money back. It was a very natural desire; but Somers couldnot help considering it as a very extravagant one, under presentcircumstances.

  The listener could not help regarding it as a most remarkable thing,that he should again be within hearing of Coles, engaged in plottingtreason. Such an event might happen once; but that it should occur asecond time was absolutely marvellous. If our readers are of the opinionthat the writer is too severely taxing their credulity in imposing thesituation just described upon them, he begs they will suspend theirjudgment till the sequel justifies him.

  It was so strange to Somers, that he could not help thinking he had beenbrought there by some mysterious power to listen to and defeat theintentions of the conspirators. He was not so far wrong as he might havebeen. It was Coles who spoke; it was Coles who had been in FortLafayette; and it was Coles who had lost eighty thousand dollars by theSnowden. All these things were real, and Somers had no suspicion that hehad inhaled some of the vile compounds in the bar below, which mighthave thrown him into a stupor wherein he dreamed the astoundingsituation in which he was actually placed.

  Somers listened, and when Coles had mixed and drank his dram, he spokeagain.

  "I can and will get my money back," said he, with an oath which frozethe blood of the listener.

  "Don't believe it, Coles."

  "You know me, Langdon," added the plotter, with a peculiar emphasis.

  Langdon acknowledged that he did know him; and as there was, therefore,no need of an introduction, Coles proceeded.

  "You know me, Langdon; I don't make any mistakes myself."

  Perhaps Langdon knew it; but Somers had some doubts, which, however, hedid not purpose to urge on this occasion.

  "Phil Kennedy was a fool," added Coles, with another oath. "He spoiledall my plans before, and I was glad when I heard that he was killed,though I lost forty thousand dollars when he slipped out. He spilt themilk for me."

  Somers thought not.

  "Phil was smart about some things; but he couldn't keep a hotel. Why,that young pup that finally gave him his quietus, twirled him around hisfingers, like he had been a school girl."

  "Thank you, Mr. Coles; but I shall have the pleasure of serving you inthe same way before many weeks," thought Somers, flattered by this warmand disinterested tribute to his strategetic ability.

  "You mean Somers?" said Langdon.

  "I mean Somers. The young pup isn't twenty-one yet, but he is thesmartest man in the old navy, by all odds, whether the others beadmirals, commodores, lieutenants, or what not."

  "That's high praise, Coles."

  "It's true. If he wasn't an imfernal Yankee, I would drink his health inthis old Bourbon. Good liquor--isn't it, Langdon?"

  "Like the juice of a diamond."

  "I would give more for this Somers than I would for any four rearadmirals. He has just been appointed to the Chatauqua; but he will be incommand of some small craft down South, before many months, doing moremischief to us than any four first-class steamers in the service. He isas brave as a young lion; knows a ship from keel to truck, and is asfamiliar with every bolt and pin of an engine as though he had been amachinist all his life."

  "Big thing, eh, Coles?"

  "If I had this Somers, I could make his fortune and mine in a year, andhave a million surplus besides."

  "What would you do with him?"

  "I would give him the command of my steamer. I would rather have him inthat place than all the old grannies in the Confederate navy."

  Somers thought Mr. Coles was rather extravagant. He had no idea that Mr.Ensign Somers was one tenth part of the man which the amiable andpatronizing Mr. Coles declared he was; and he was impatient to have thespeaker announce his intentions, rather than waste any more time in suchunwarrantable commendation.

  But instead of telling what he intended to do, he confined himself mostprovokingly to what he had failed to do, giving Langdon minute detailsof the capture of the Theban and the Snowden, dwelling with peculiaremphasis on the agency of Somers in the work. This was not interestingto the listener, but something better soon followed.