Bennie Ben Cree | Page 6

sound that moved far and far away.
It was now come to the latter part of November, and about the middle of a certain morning I heard Tony calling my name. At my coming he winked in a manner to make me think he knew all about something, only that he always winked to show his knowingness, whether he knew anything or not. He pointed with his thumb to the door of the inn parlour, where I went in, and found my father sitting with the three strangers.
Their names, as I came to hear them, were these: the eldest, Captain Cavarly; the odd-looking one, Dan Morgan; and the third, Mr. Sabre Calhoun--a curious name, and he was tall and thin, and, like his name, not to be quickly forgotten. Indeed, he was a man I never understood, and, seeing that I came to have such chances of knowing him as do not commonly fall between men, there must have been something odd with him or with me. He had sandy hair, and grey eyes that seemed very lively and shrewd.
"I make you acquainted with these gentlemen," said my father, "if the captain don't mind your hearing his yarn."
"Shuly," said he, with a fine wave of his hand. "Glad to know you."
Mr. Calhoun nodded.
"Why, why," said Mr. Morgan, looking at my red cheeks. "You ain't got any liver complaint. Well, sir, when I was so old I used to bust the seams o' my clo'es, an' it hurt my feelins te'ible. I grew like a yellow punkin, ve'y similar."
The captain went on with the story, which my coming had interrupted.
"Well, sir, then I started for Washington in a hurry, to see the Sec'etary o' the Navy, an ol' gen'lman from hereabout 'ith a beard like a palm leaf fan, yes, sir; an' I said to him, 'Sir, this country is fairly leakin 'ith pat'iotism. Here's parties, that don't wish their names known for private reasons--say they're Baltimore parties, but they want me to tell you, 'Here's the Octarara in Baltimore docks, small and steady, steam ten knots, an' here's Cavarly an' Dan Morgan knowin' the coast better'n Webster's Primer consid'able. Let the Gove'nment commission her, an' Cavarly an' Dan'll raise the crew an' run her for high an' mighty? An' there you are, sir.' An' there he was, that ol' gen'lman 'ith the palm leaf beard, calm as a fish in his natchul element, an' me bustin' 'ith glory.
" 'The Gove'nment doesn't commission privateers,' he says. 'Do I understand the parties offer this vessel to the Gove'nment? In that case----' Then I saw of co'se it would have to be all regular, an' quite right he was though too much like ref'ige'ated fish, an' I inte'upted him. 'The parties wouldn' be satisfied unless Morgan an' I sailed her, bein' sort of in it ourselves----'
" 'In fact you are the parties,' said he.
"I said, 'Not altogther. But it would be like this, sir. If we offer the Octarara, an' the Gove'nment puts her in commission, and furnishes equipments, arms, ammunition, mess, the parties might see it was only right the Gov'nment should put in its own crew, quite regular, especially gunners, sir. Sir,' I said, 'I reckon I can take the Octarara into the back dooryard of Virginia closer'n most, but put it you wanted to target practice on the back door--I'm no gunner myself.'
" 'Ah,' he says, 'but you're not in the service now. That will of co'se be necessa'y Well, sir, the Administ'ation appreciates your gen'osity,' he says. 'You'll convey the Administ'ation's thanks to these myste'ous parties,' he says, looking extraor'nary calm an' fishy. An' I goes back to Baltimore feelin' a trifle damp, but still pat'iotic. Well, sir, they're prompt at that Department, if they are damp. In three days I got orders to take the Octarara up here to be fitted out an' commissioned an' manned, an' instead of a family party there won't be but four Baltimore men aboard her."
"They couldn't have anything that looked like privateering," said my father, after a pause, "with a lot of Confederate privateers locked up in the Tombs here for piracy."
"Tha's what I said to Dan. 'Twasn't reason to be sure. Dan wanted the family party; but he saw reason, an' brought the Octarara up, an' I came later, an' here we are, bustin' 'ith pat'iotism and ordered to Hampton Roads, maybe they know when. I don't myself."
"Yes, sir," broke in Mr. Morgan. "They do say huntin' blockade is like a dog after fleas, respectin' their liveliness, ve'y similar; him not knowin' where they are till he's bit."
Captain Cavarly seemed to disapprove of this saying, glancing sharply at Mr. Morgan, whether because he felt it a slur on the navy, or for another reason, I could not guess at that time; moreover,