If Captain Carboneer had felt any especial interest in the Florence as a sailing yacht, he might have desired to see the cabin of the craft, which had always been the delight of Christy Passford. He had expended a great deal of his pocket-money upon the arrangement and furnishing of the cabin of his yacht, not only because he spent a considerable portion of his vacation hours in it, but because it had been a perpetual study with him to enlarge and improve it.
It is very difficult to get three pints of liquid into a quart measure, and it was a conundrum of this sort that Christy was studying upon when he tried to make a parlor, bedroom, and dining-saloon of the very limited space in the forward part of the Florence. Though he could hardly get the three pints into the quart measure, he had done the best he could, and succeeded to a rather remarkable 71 degree. But spite of the miracle which had been wrought in the cabin, Captain Carboneer did not even try the door of the apartment when he and his companions went on board of the yacht. He was so absorbed in the enterprise in which he was engaged, that his indifference to the miracle of the cabin may be excused.
Even the double doors of the cabin were of handsome wood, elaborately polished; and they were not secured with the usual appliance of a padlock, but were provided with an expensive mortise-lock, which could be operated upon either side. If Captain Carboneer had tried to open that door, he would have found that it was fastened; but perhaps he could not have discovered that it had been secured upon the inside. Unless, therefore, he had taken the trouble to break open the door, he could not have ascertained that Christy Passford was actually in the cabin.
Possibly, if he had opened the door by any means, he would not have discovered that the proprietor of the boat was in this dainty apartment, for the skipper had taken a great deal of pains to conceal himself so that he should not be seen, even if the intruders in the Florence had 72 succeeded in opening the doors without the aid of the key in his pocket. Though he had two very nice berths in the cabin, miraculously arranged as to space, Christy did not occupy one on the present occasion, for in that case the unbidden visitors would have seen him if their curiosity had led them to force the doors.
When the cook of the Florence, usually the skipper of the craft, was engaged in the practice of the culinary art, he seated himself on what looked like a box in front of the stove. But the interior of this box was really a part of the cabin, for it contained the feet of any one occupying the berth on the starboard side. The cookroom had no end of bins, lockers and drawers to contain the variety of provisions and stores necessary to get up a dinner for the skipper and his guests, when he had any. And even all these places could not contain everything that was needed on board. Under the two berths were large, though not very deep, lockers, one of which contained the jib-topsail of the craft, and other spare sails, while the opposite one was the fuel locker of the sloop.
As the boat had not been used for a long time in cruising, the fuel receptacle was empty, though 73 a spare gaff-topsail had been thrown into it. This locker was big enough to admit the body-corporate of the skipper. It was not a particularly clean place, for a portion of it had been economized for the stowage of the charcoal, which the skipper preferred to wood. But he did not rebel at the blackness of the retreat he had chosen, for he wore his boating dress, which was hardly stylish enough for a dude or a dandy.
But Skipper Passford did not crawl into this black hole for the fun of the thing. He had been spending his time in waiting for a movement to be made in regard to the Bellevite. He staid in the house all the forenoon, and, after lunch, he sailed down the river in the Florence, though with no object in doing so beyond passing the time. Not far from the beach where he had afterwards left the yacht, he discovered a boat rowed by two men with a third in the stern sheets.
The breeze was quite gentle, though the Florence would sail at a very tolerable speed when there was the least apology for a wind. She was doing so on the present occasion, and Christy had stretched himself out on the cushioned seat, with the spokes of the wheel where he could steer without 74 any exertion, or next to none. The idleness of his days since his return from the eventful cruise of the Bellevite seemed to have infected him with an unnatural indolence.
He felt as though he was rather more than half asleep when he saw the boat with the two oarsmen. It was going up the river, while he was going down. He had to luff a little to keep clear of the oars, but he did not move from his half-recumbent posture. When the boat was alongside, he glanced idly and carelessly at the person in the stern sheets. Instantly he was wide awake, though he did not change his position. The person looked like a gentleman, and Christy was sure that he had seen him before. A couple of minutes of earnest cudgelling of his brain assured him that he had seen the stranger in Nassau; that he was one of the many who wanted to purchase the Bellevite, ostensibly for a merchant vessel, but really for the Confederate navy.
After he had run a short distance farther down the river, Christy came about, the boat being some distance from him, but the gentleman soon landed and walked up the river on the shore, or very near it. In a short time, he was joined by another 75 person, whose form looked familiar to the skipper of the Florence. He could not identify him, for he was not near enough to him to see his face. A puff of air came from across the river, and the Florence darted ahead, and Christy was soon out of sight of the two strangers.
Near the boundary of his father's estate, he ran the yacht on the sandy beach, letting her strike the sand hard enough to stick where she was for half an hour, though she was not likely to get adrift, for the gentle breeze was blowing her farther on the shore as the tide rose.
Christy hauled down the jib of the sloop, and then seated himself, or rather reclined upon the cushions, though in such a position that he could see the shore, or any persons who came upon it. No one was in sight, and he had no one to watch. The swash of a great steamer passing in the channel made his boat roll heavily for a moment, with the forward part of the bottom resting on the sand. For the want of something better to think of, he began to put conundrums to himself in the absence of any other person to perplex with them. What was the gentleman that wanted to buy a steamer in Nassau doing up the Hudson? This was the 76 principal one: he could not answer it. He gave it up; as the French have it, he had to "throw his tongue to the dogs," having no use for it in this connection.
But while he was dreaming of the possible mission of the stranger, he heard voices on the beach. Not deeming it wise to show himself, he rolled off the cushion upon the floor of the standing-room, and then fixed himself in a position where he could see and hear what passed between the speakers. He could see without being seen. It did not require a second look for him to decide that the second person on the beach was Major Pierson, though his companion called him Mulgate.
If Christy had been interested before, he was excited now. The two speakers were within earshot of the boat, and in the stillness of the scene he could hear every word that was said. In a few moments he was in full possession of the statements of the captain and the major in regard to their intentions; and it appeared that the gentleman he had seen in Nassau still desired to obtain a steamer.
Before it was dark, Christy was astonished to behold his cousin Corny on the other side of the 77 fence; and he readily understood that he was to take part in the enterprise in hand. As yet the listener had obtained but little more than the information in regard to the intention of the visitors. When he found that they were disposed to take possession of the Florence, and make their visit to the Bellevite in her, the skipper retired from the standing-room of the boat to the cabin, where he locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. When he realized that they really meant to come on board, he crawled into the space under the starboard berth, and arranged the sail so that it would conceal him in case the intruders pushed their investigation into the cabin.
When he had completed his preparations, he was quite satisfied that he should not be discovered. The trio came on board, and Christy fixed himself so that he could hear every word that was said, for there was a small opening under the berth through which the superfluous length of a pair of oars could be thrust when not in use.
Christy, without the remotest suspicion on the part of the plotters that they could be heard by any living being, and especially not by so dangerous a character as Christy had proved himself 78 to be to the peace and dignity of the Confederacy, heard all that was said, and he obtained a full idea of the intentions of the conspirators. When they went on board of the Bellevite, he was so excited that he could no longer remain in his prison, but came out, and crept up the accommodation ladder to the deck of the steamer. But he was careful not to show himself, and, having a key to the cabin, he went into it, locking the door after him. Then he had a chance to think.
What should he do? He had no force at hand to beat off such a party as Captain Carboneer mentioned. They might carry out their plot that very night, as they had talked of doing. Perhaps it would be executed at once, even while he was on board, and he would then be a prisoner. This idea was too galling to be considered, and he left the cabin to visit the wardroom. Going still farther forward, he was surprised to hear the roar of the flames in the furnaces below. It looked at that moment as though the Bellevite was doomed to sail under a Confederate flag. But if he could do nothing more, he could save himself, even if he had to jump into the river and swim to the shore.
79 Christy lost no time in making his way to the main deck of the vessel; but he was careful to avoid the visitors. He went back to the cabin, and went on deck from it. Then he discovered that the trio were in the act of descending the accommodation steps. Mounting the rail he saw them embark in the Florence, and sail down the river. Dismounting from the rail, he hastened to the engine-room, where he found Sampson getting the engine ready to be put in motion.
"Ah, Christy, I thought you had gone," said the oiler.
"Who were those two men who were on board?" asked Christy, not a little excited.
"They were two gentlemen you brought on board, Christy," replied Sampson, innocently enough.
"That I brought on board!" exclaimed the skipper of the Florence.
"Yes, sir: and I thought you had gone ashore with them," added the oiler.
"I brought no men on board, Sampson! What are you talking about?" demanded Christy impatiently.
"Didn't you bring two gentlemen on board, and 80 didn't one of them want to measure the carriage of the big gun?"
"No! I did not! I have not seen you before now this evening," protested Christy.
"Then I have lost my senses. Didn't you tell me to get up steam, because the steamer would be moved to the navy yard before daylight in the morning?" demanded Sampson, bewildered by the denial of the young man.
"I see now," added Christy. "You mistook Corny for me."
Sampson gave him all the details of the visit of the strangers.