Bennie Ben Cree: Being the Story of His Adventure to Southward in the Year '62
History
Bennie Ben Cree: Being the Story of His Adventure to Southward in the Year '62
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
And the two men rose and walked aft. The three boats got off quickly.
Simpson, I think it was, stood up in the stem of the last, and yelled
something hoarse and shrieking. They slid away in the moonlight, grew
dim and dimmer. If anyone should ask why I did not show myself and go
ashore where I belonged, there is no answer in me. It might have been
the foolishness that came natural to me, or that, being too astonished
to do anything, I did nothing.
The next thing I did was nearly as odd. The engines fell to groaning and
pumping below monotonously, as their steam came to a head, and in time
all bustle near me had ceased. And, being healthy and tired, lying not
uncomfortably, I fell fast asleep under the close canvas of the ship's
boat.
CHAPTER IV.--I TALK WITH CALHOUN AND THE “OCTARARA” GOES EAST AND WEST.
|A ship's boat has a flat board running the lengthway and well enough to
sleep on, but from beneath go out ribs which are prominent and sharp. I
awoke with someone jerking and tipping, making my dreams uncomfortable;
and before any waking thought had come he had banged my head on a rib of
the boat, so that I yelled aloud, and thought presently I would get up,
and there would be a fight. But there was none.
The dragging and tipping of the boat stopped, someone lifted the canvas
and pulled me out by the collar. I stood on the fore deck, blinking
in the broad sunlight foolishly, and around me were a group of strange
faces.
“Hi!” said one. “What is it? Take it aft.”
Two men shoved me along before them, till we came down into the cabin,
and there were Cavarly, Morgan, and Calhoun taking breakfast cheerfully.
Surprised they were to see me, and Cavarly not pleased, but Morgan began
to laugh wonderfully, and said I would be the death of him.
“Mark my words, you sinful young oyster. If you don't die first o' the
liver complaint, you'll be the death o' me.”
Cavarly asked how I came to stay aboard.
“Aye,” he said, “you hadn't crossed my mind these twenty-four hours,
tha's a fact.”
I did not like his pointing out that way how unimportant I was, and I
asked boldly where we were going.
“Due east now,” said Cavarly gently. “Why, sonny, we're goin' to dest'oy
commerce down the South Atlantic. You ain't any business here.”
“You're goin' to attack the flag o' your country,” said Morgan, leaning
forward and wrinkling his mouth. I grew very hot in the face and shouted
angrily, “I'm not, either!”
“Yep. You're goin' to perfo'm prodigies o' valour an' implant a tin
sword in the chest o' your uncle.”
“I won't!”
“Yep. You'll come home cove'd with glory an' gore, an' a full-rigged
ship in each pocket, an' be hung at the Fede'al Gove'nment's expense,
the rest o' your relatives attendin' the ce'emony.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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