Blockade Runner (8 page)

“Well, it’s Miss Belle’s birthday, and I’d like to make her a cake if I wouldn’t be in the way too much.”

“So! You don’t tell me! Well, I think we can find enough to put a cake together. Maybe not as fancy as you’d make at home, but we can do the best we can. I think it’d be a shame if we didn’t give the Rebel Spy a birthday party.”

Leah was pleased that he liked her suggestion. “I can make it, if I won’t be in the way.”

“Not a bit of it! We’ll work on it together. I reckon the two of us can do a bang-up job.” He lifted his voice and said, “Jeff!”

Leah turned quickly and saw Jeff come through the door.

When he saw her, he nodded briefly. “Hello,” he mumbled.

“Hello, Jeff.”

Austin said, “We’re going to make a cake for Miss Belle. Move all this stuff over here, and I’ll get Miss Leah started on it. You know how to make cakes, don’t you, Miss Leah?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” Leah expected Jeff to say something about how good a cook she was, but he ignored her glance and went on about clearing the table.

She discovered that all the ingredients for a cake were in the small, well-equipped larder, and soon she had the batter ready and poured it into the pan that Austin gave her.

Popping it into the oven, she said, “I hope it doesn’t bake too fast. I never know exactly how my cakes are going to come out.”

“Oh, it’ll be good. I know a lot about cooks, and you’re a good one. I watched you real close,” Austin said with a grin. “Miss Belle’ll be plumb surprised. Well, nothing to do now. Why don’t you two take a stroll around deck?”

Jeff blinked, then said abruptly, “Well, I guess I’ve got to go get the captain’s clothes pressed.” He turned and sullenly walked away.

Austin seemed surprised, but he winked at Leah. “That sure is a strange young fellow. When I was his age, if I’d of had a chance to walk a pretty girl home from a dance or to church, you wouldn’t have caught me turning it down.”

Leah said nothing, but her feelings were hurt.
Why’d he have to be so mean? I thought after I helped him when he got too hot, we’d make up
, she thought.
He’s just not like the old Jeff. If that’s what growing up is, I think he should have stayed what he was!

The birthday party proved to be an astounding success. The captain came. Mr. Pollard was there. Lieutenant Mailer dazzled them all with a sparkling
fresh uniform and his mustache waxed until it had needle points.

Belle was delighted at the attention. There were no gifts, but they all sang “Happy Birthday,” and when she tasted the cake she said, “Why, Captain, you’ve got a fine cook! My compliments to him.”

“Austin had little to do with this,” the captain said. “This is Miss Leah’s baking.”

“Is that so? My, what a fine cook you are, Leah!” Belle smiled. She took another bite and rolled her eyes. “This is the best birthday cake I’ve ever had in my life!”

“I think we ought to have some entertainment,” the captain said. “John, you used to be a pretty fair tenor. You suppose we might make a quartet—you and me, Miss Belle and Miss Leah?”

Leah protested, but Belle urged her, and they soon found that they knew all the words to “Aura Lea.” It was a favorite all over the South, and after getting a pitch from the captain, they sang the song:

They sang the chorus:

Then they sang the other verses:

They sang for two hours—“Dixie,” “Lorena,” “The Wearing of the Gray,” and many others.

After the party, Belle gave Leah a kiss. “That was very thoughtful of you, Leah. I know it was your idea. No one else knew it was my birthday.”

“Oh, it was fun making the cake.”

“When we get to Bermuda, I’ll take you out and buy you a meal at a fine restaurant. They say there’s all sorts of things to do there.”

As it happened, however, Leah never got the meal that Belle Boyd promised her. Later she thought about how strange it was: life was so uncertain that one could never be sure of even such a simple thing as a meal.

L
eah was awakened by shouting on the deck. She started out of a sound sleep, confused by the pounding of feet running outside her cabin. Sitting up straight, she rubbed her eyes and shook her head. Then she heard the captain’s voice yelling commands.

Quickly she jumped out of bed and hastily dressed. Stepping outside, she saw that the morning was just beginning to dawn. She was joined at the ship’s rail by Belle, who had evidently dressed as hurriedly as she herself. They stared at each other for a moment, then looked over the sea.

“What is it?” Leah asked.

“Another Federal warship—just exactly what we didn’t need!” Belle nodded toward the east.

There, outlined against the gray, milky-looking sky, was the dreaded form of an approaching warship. It had been two days since the
Greyhound
had escaped the first Union ship; now here was another!

“We’ll outrun them,” Leah said confidently. “The captain knows how to dodge them. We’ll slip away, and they’ll never catch us!” Actually she was not sure of this, but she spoke as if she were.

Apparently Captain Bier was not sure. He had a worried look on his face. As Lieutenant Mailer stood beside him, he lifted his spyglass and peered through it.

“What is it, Captain? Can you make ’er out?” the lieutenant asked anxiously.

“I think it isn’t good news for us.” He would say no more about the warship but added, “Have the hands served breakfast. It may be a long chase, and I want the men in good shape.”

He began to pace back and forth on the deck, pausing from time to time to look at the horizon. There was a stiffness in his back and a frown on his face.

By now almost all hands were topside, staring at the enemy ship.

John Pollard approached Bier, saying, “What is it, Captain?”

“Federal warship, and a fast one, I’m thinking.”

Pollard’s brow wrinkled. “They caught us at a bad time. If it was almost dark, we might slip away. Now, we’ll just have to outrun her.”

“And I’m not sure we can do that,” Captain Bier said calmly. “We’re out of the better grade of coal—and I don’t think we can use the turpentine trick again.” He lifted the spyglass and stared at the approaching ship. “I hope I’m wrong, but that may be the USS
Connecticut.”

“You know her, Captain?”

Captain Bier lowered the glass, folded it up, and held it at his side. “I know her,” he said. “She’s the fastest ship the Federals have.”

“Not faster than the
Greyhound?”

Captain Bier gave Pollard a direct look. “Aye, I’m afraid she is, John. And she’s heavily armed. We’re in for it this time.”

Belle and Mr. Pollard met at the bow.

“We’d better make plans, Belle,” Pollard said, a worried look on his face. “I don’t think we’ve got much of a chance this time.”

“The only plan I have is to get rid of the papers President Davis entrusted to me. If they found those, we’d be in real trouble.”

“You know it’ll probably be prison for you—perhaps for me, as well,” Mr. Pollard said.

“Not for you. They’d never dare do that.”

“For you it’s worse.”

“I know. They’ve been looking for an excuse to lock me up again.” But Belle tossed her head, a rebellious light in her eyes. She stared at the warship, which was drawing closer by the moment. “Don’t worry about me, John. I’ll be all right.”

The
Greyhound
was a three-masted, propeller steamer of four hundred tons. She was painted lead gray with a red streak along her hull. She was a shallow-draft ship, which meant that she could hug the shoreline closer than the Yankee gunboats—but that also meant she was not as fast in open water. The approaching ship was new and obviously very fast.

Captain Bier looked tense. He glanced up at the masts, then at the enemy vessel. “We’ll put up the sails, Lieutenant,” he said sharply. “We’re going to need all the leverage we can get. Put every square inch of canvas on!”

The
Greyhound
, like many other ships of her time, was caught between the age of sail and the age of steam. Many shipowners—and captains as well—did not entirely trust the new steam engines. They were in fact sometimes unreliable, and it was considered insurance to be able to catch the winds if the engines failed.

Soon the sails were billowing out overhead, and Leah stared at them, asking, “Captain, do you think that’ll be enough?”

“I don’t know, Leah—it’s doubtful.”

Half an hour later, the cruiser had pulled within firing range. A thin, white curl of smoke rose high in the air as the
Connecticut
turned and launched a broadside. Leah heard a hissing, and then in the sea a few yards from the
Greyhound
a geyser spouted up, along with an explosion underwater.

“That’s too close!”

Leah turned to see Jeff. His face was anxious, and he gripped the rail tightly.

“Jeff, don’t let the officers on that ship find out you’re in the Confederate army!”

“I already thought of that. But most of the crew know it—some of them, anyway.”

“We’ve got to tell them to keep it to themselves.”

Jeff stared at her. “How can we do that?”

“We’ll just go to them and tell them. Come on!”

Leah whirled, and for the next half hour the pair moved along the upper and lower decks, speaking to the hands. All agreed, most of them saying, “Right! None of their business, anyway!”

Finally they had spoken to all the crew, and Jeff said awkwardly, “Thanks, Leah. I’d never have thought of that.” He hesitated, then said, “I’ve been a real grouch lately. Never did thank you proper for sponging me down when I got so hot.”

Leah flushed. “Oh, that was nothing!”

“It was something—and I won’t forget it—” He seemed about to say more, but at that instant a cannonball struck the sail over their heads, breaking the spar. Jeff grabbed Leah and shoved her to one side. They fell to the deck as canvas and rigging
came crashing down. And then the heavy sail covered them.

“Leah—are you all right?” Jeff cried.

“Yes—how about you?”

Jeff sighed with relief. “I’m OK—but let’s get out from under this thing. Some more rigging might fall on us.”

Scrambling out from under the canvas, Leah could hear the cruiser firing rapidly.

“We can’t stand that!” Jeff said and clenched his teeth. Then he ran toward the ladder to the galley.

The
Connecticut
sent volley after volley at the
Greyhound
, some shells bursting overhead and some falling short.

Captain Bier stood rigidly on deck, glancing at the compass and yelling orders. The shot and shell fell thick and fast near the
Greyhound
, and the captain turned to Belle, who was standing close by. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d burn the ship. Then at least the Yankees wouldn’t get the cargo.”

Belle answered at once, “Do what you must, Captain. Don’t think about me!”

The
Connecticut
was now less than half a mile away.

“It’s too late to burn her now,” Captain Bier said. “We’ll have to surrender.” At his command, the
Greyhound
swung around, and Lieutenant Mailer raised a white flag.

But five minutes later as the cruiser closed, a shell hurtled close overhead.

“The cowards!” Bier shouted. “Do they mean to fire on a ship that’s surrendered?”

The cruiser came alongside, and a loud voice called, “We are coming aboard. Have all your men throw down their arms!”

Belle ran down the deck and disappeared into her cabin.

Surprised, Leah watched her go. She herself stayed in place on the deck as the warship came ever closer.

Then Belle was out again, carrying a leather case.

“What is it, Belle?” Leah asked.

“Papers from President Davis to the ministers in England.” She looked around. “I’ve got to weigh this down and throw it overboard. If they found it, Leah, I’d go to prison for sure—or maybe even be hanged.”

“I’ll get something,” Leah said. She ran down to the galley, where she found Jeff standing at the door, watching. “Let me by, Jeff!” she demanded and sailed past the astonished boy.

Inside the galley, she found what she was looking for—the long-handled iron skillet that Austin used for frying fish. Grabbing it up, she took an apron at the same time. She brushed past Jeff again and climbed again to the top deck.

“Here! This will do, Belle,” she said. She tied one end of the apron to the hole in the handle of the frying pan while Belle tied the other end to the handle of the case.

Then, lifting the case high, Belle threw it overboard. It sank at once, and Belle drew a deep sigh of relief. “Now, at least,” she said, “they won’t have that to use as evidence against me.”

C
aptain Bier watched with regret as two sailors rolled a keg containing $30,000 in gold over the side of the
Greyhound
, but he knew he could not allow it to fall into the hands of the enemy.

Then the captain of the
Connecticut
came aboard and recognized Captain Bier at once.