Stand By The Union | Page 9

name, sir; and I refer you to the ship's papers to prove it.
I am not the man to be ashamed of my name, which is not Welch or
Walsh, sir, if you will excuse me for saying so."
"Will you deny that you were employed as a servant at the house of
Captain Passford, at Bonnydale on the Hudson?" demanded Christy,
with not a little energy in his tones and manner.
"Where, sir, if you please?" asked the sailor, with a sort of bewildered
look.
"At Bonnydale!"
"Boddyvale? I never heard of the place before in my life, sir," answered
the runaway servant.
Possibly the man under examination was not wholly responsible for his
distortion of the name of Captain Passford's estate, as Christy was
beginning to reap the penalty of his imprudence the night before, in
exposing himself barefooted and half-clothed to the chill midnight air,
and was developing a cold in the head that already affected his
enunciation.
"Bonnydale!" repeated the officer, after using his handkerchief, and
thus improving his utterance of the word.
"I never heard of the place before, sir," persisted the seaman.
"Byron!" called a boatswain's mate from the forecastle.

"That's my name--Byron, sir, at your service," said the man, as he
touched his cap to the lieutenant, and rushed forward in answer to the
call of his superior, evidently glad to escape from the inquisition to
which he had been subjected. "On deck!" he added, as he made his way
to the forecastle.
Christy was a passenger on board of the Vernon, and he had nothing to
do. The commanding officer appeared to be engaged in the details of
his duty, though the steamer was in charge of a pilot. He could see from
his shoulder straps that he was an ensign, and the officers in the waist
and on the forecastle were of the same rank. If there were any other
passengers on board of the vessel who were commissioned officers,
they were not visible on the deck, though they might be in their
staterooms, arranging their affairs for the voyage.
The young lieutenant leaned against the rail, and gave himself up to the
consideration of what had occurred since he came on board. He had
been bewildered by one mystery the night before, and he could not help
asking himself if the conduct of Walsh had anything to do with the visit
of the intruder at Bonnydale. He could not trace out any connection
between the two events; but, on the other hand, he was unable to satisfy
himself that the mysterious visit, the sudden disappearance of the
man-servant, and the denial of his identity by the latter, were not in
some manner related to each other.
He had no premises on which to base an argument for or against one
thing or another. All was dark to him, and he could not get hold of
anything. After he had raised up a variety of suppositions, and
combated vigorously with them, the darkness seemed only to become
more dense, and he was compelled to abandon the subject without
arriving at any reasonable explanation. Under the instruction of his
father, he had cultivated "a judicial mind," which compelled him to
reject all mere speculation.
Christy was not disposed to believe that he was a brilliant officer, or to
accept unchallenged the extravagant praise that had been bestowed
upon him. He endeavored to follow the Gospel injunction "not to think
of himself more highly than he ought to think." But while he tried to

keep the flower of modesty in full bloom in his soul, he could not deny
that he had given the enemies of his country a great deal of trouble, and
subjected them to some heavy losses. Then he recalled the conspiracy
on board of the Bronx while he was acting-commander of her; and
though it was for the interest of the Confederacy to get rid of so active
an officer, he believed it was the vessel and not himself that the
conspirators desired to obtain.
Before the Vernon reached The Narrows, everything on her deck had
been put in order by the large crew, and less activity prevailed on board.
Christy thought it was time for him to report to the commander, and he
moved aft for this purpose. He did not even know the name of this
gentleman, and he saw no one to introduce him formally; but the ensign
in command had doubtless received an order to take him as a passenger
to the Gulf.
Before he reached the sacred limits of the quarter-deck, Christy met a
quartermaster, of whom he inquired the name of the commander.
"He has a good name for the captain of a fighting ship," replied the
petty officer, respectfully touching his cap to the