 Section 14 of the kidnapping of President Lincoln and other war detective stories. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kay Hand. The Kidnapping of President Lincoln and Other War Detective Stories by Joel Chandler Harris The Whims of Captain McCarthy Part 5 Dinner time came and then supper, but the stevedores on the wharf continued to convey freight into the boat until long after dark, and they were at it when Doyle fell asleep. When he awoke the next morning the boat was in motion and the idea that he was on his way back to New York gave him a feeling of tranquility to which he had been a stranger for many long hours. Then he suddenly remembered that his new friend had not returned to tell him goodbye, and as the thought occurred to him, the door of his state room opened and the man he was thinking about put his head in and gave him a cheerful good morning. I was just thinking about you, said Doyle, and I am glad it's good morning and not goodbye. Why, so am I, responded the other. I looked in to see if you were still with us, and to say that I'll be very busy on the return trip, but tomorrow afternoon I want to have some conversation with you. With that he took his leave. A little later Doyle, in strolling about the saloon deck, saw his friend in close consultation with the captain. The two were sitting at a small table in the captain's cabin, and it could be seen at a glance that a noticeable change had come over the two men. On the table before them there lay a map, or diagram, of some description. The captain of the vessel no longer had an air of authority, he was deference itself, whereas the man who had drawn Mr. Doyle to him seemed to be in command. He opened the door connecting the cabin with the pilot house. What is the course, he asked. Doyle could not hear the reply of the man at the wheel, but he heard the command, bear to the south two points. At Doyle's feet the shadows slowly shifted and then hung steady, and a moment's observation showed him that the boat was headed in a southwesterly direction. This gave him a cud to chew on. The boat was certainly not headed in the direction of New York. However, he resolved not to allow himself to be concerned with the fact which might turn out to have the simplest explanation in the world. The day wore on, and Doyle, when he had finished his dinner, noticed that the sun was beginning to cast shadows that fell from left to right. This meant, therefore, that the course of the boat had been changed to a point a little west of north. Well, he knew nothing about navigation, and he did not permit his curiosity to reach the pitch of inquisitiveness. Yet he had nothing to do but ruminate over such trifles, for with the exception of the man to whom he had so suddenly become attached, he was the only passenger on the boat. He leaned back in one of the easy-chairs in the saloon, and was soon sound asleep. When he awoke, the sun hung low and red on the horizon, and the boat seemed to be headed right for the glowing orb. On a chair not far away sat his traveling companion, apparently lost in thought. He roused himself and spoke when Doyle stirred. Ah, you have had a most refreshing nap, he said with a smile. Yes, indeed, answered Doyle. They say it's a sign of health for a man to fall asleep when he's not sleepy. I've been awake several moments watching your face. I was trying to find out why it is that I can't call you by your name. I hope you will take no offense. Why, certainly not, said the other. The reason you don't call me by my name is because you don't know it. Well, didn't the captain say your name was Webb? Doyle asked. I am inclined to think he did, remarked the other. But no doubt that was due to the fact that in the excitement created in his mind by your astonishing narrative, he made a slip of the tongue. Anyhow, I'm glad Webb is not your name, though I don't know why. It doesn't seem to fit you. When the proper moment arrives, I'll introduce myself with a flourish. Just at present, however, we must talk of more important matters. We are now heading for sunset. Have you any idea of our destination or of yours? Doyle shook his head. Well, that is an additional reason why the Secret Service should have small charms for you. Perhaps you could make a shrewd guess. Like a flash, the truth dawned on Doyle. We are on a blockade runner, he exclaimed. You have hit it the first time. And now, having the key to the situation, the whole scheme of Captain McCarthy with respect to you must be clear to your mind. It is perfectly clear, replied Doyle. He is for sending me back to Richmond, where a halter probably awaits me. Well, all is fair in love and war, he said with a smile. I thought it very queer that the man who planned my departure with such shrewd simplicity should give me an opportunity to place my information in the hands of others. And are you Captain McCarthy's agent? No, not his agent. And yet I am acting for him. Your case is in my hands absolutely, and I propose if I can to transfer it to yours. This Captain McCarthy, I am told, has never yet sent a man to the gallows. He has said to believe that the service in which he is engaged does not call for the shedding of blood or the taking of life, save in an extreme emergency. Trusting to that, I shall permit you to dispose of your own case. You are a rebel, excuse me, a Confederate sympathizer, suggested Doyle. Don't halt at words, replied the other. So many good causes have been branded as rebellions, and so many great men have been called rebels that I rather enjoy the name. There is a whiff of liberty in independence about it. Yes, I am a rebel, and I am in the service of rebel authorities. What alternative do you suggest, inquired Doyle? There are at least two. Tonight or early tomorrow morning, when we make our run past the war vessels, I can provide you with a boat, and you will have no difficulty in reaching one of the three. On the other hand, you were saying the other day you contemplated a change. You suggested that your present business had grown irksome, and you were generous enough to express a feeling of gratification that the man you had selected for a victim had apparently restrained his hand with respect to you. But that was when I had diluted myself into the belief that he had shortened his arm in my favor. As you have just told me, he has a longer reach than I supposed. Precisely, but while I have never met the man face to face, I am familiar with those who know his nature, and I can say to you in all sincerity that he has no real desire to sacrifice you on the point of your mistakes. But he would only be carrying out his duty, remarked Doyle. On the form of it, certainly, responded the other. There is the case of Mr. Webb, who joined you in the Enterprise. He is as free today as I am. He is on parole. That is queer, said Doyle. Why is it that Captain McCarthy doesn't deal impartially? The truth is, the other answered, this man McCarthy is a great booby. I tell you confidentially, in one aspect of his nature he is a perfect child. In another aspect he is somewhat grim, so his friends say. He is something of a causist, too, and he is never happier than when engaged in applying general moral principles to particular cases. Yours, for instance, probably violated one of his pet theories. You were receiving a salary from the Confederate authorities and betraying its secrets to its enemies. You suggested the kidnapping of Mr. Lincoln to an enthusiastic young man and tried to destroy him. And finally, you took advantage of your position to get some documentary information in regard to McCarthy's plans and purposes. I have the papers here. Well, I'll tell you frankly, responded Doyle, that young fellow Bethune treated me very handsomely in Washington, and he took such high ground in the matter that he set me to thinking. And then, as I told you, my experience in that box gave me an opportunity to think. My desire for advancement, it seemed, had blotted out the, well, the amenities. I'll call them principles. The word will not suffocate you, cried the other with some show of impatience. Yes, the principles that should mark out one's line of action, assented Doyle. And yet you have this excuse that in the business in which you were engaged, there is no clear boundary line between what is fair and right and proper, unless one is at some pains to sift each proposition as it arises. It is quite a problem. Well, said Doyle, I had made up my mind before I discovered your mission to try some other line of work. But under the circumstances, I'll say nothing more on that subject. You have your duty to perform. I hope you find it a little more disagreeable than you thought, for I have come to like you. I doubt if an executioner ever had so fine a compliment, remarked the other with a friendly smile and gesture. The two men sat and talked together on various topics for some time. Though it was now dark, no lamps had been lit. The mate came into the saloon with a lantern and announced that supper was ready, and he led the way to the galley. We shall have to make it a trifle uncomfortable for you, said Doyle's companion. We shall not be within sight of the Carolina coast until after midnight, yet we cannot afford to illuminate the vessel. Don't talk about comfort, replied Doyle. In the course of a very few hours, if matters go well with you, I shall remember the galley here as the center of luxury and comfort. If you please, I'll take my coffee in the tin cup. Why then so will I, said the other with a smile. Who knows what may happen? The trip is an experiment. The captain has run into Charleston and into Norfolk, but at my request he is to try Wilmington. I am familiar with the channel there, which has its peculiarities, and I am of the opinion that your friends on the Federal warships are not prepared for an invasion of this sort, although more than one vessel has slipped in and out. In the captain's cabin you will find light enough to read by, and you are welcome to use it. When Doyle had groped his way to the upper deck, he found a change in the atmospheric conditions. A raw wind was blowing from the northwest, bringing with it a stinging rain. He went into the captain's cabin and tried hard to amuse himself with a handful of books he found there. Among these were Palio by William Gilmore Sims in two volumes, poems by James Brooks and his brother, and The Green Mantle of Venice. The last he had never seen before and he began to read the gruesome thing. The story that gave the title to the book was the first in the longest, and when he had come to the end of it, he shivered and closed the volume. He had never read anything so grim and ghastly. His feelings called Lolly for companionship, and he saw it in the pilot house. We are passing Smith's Island, said a voice which Doyle recognized as that of the gentleman who was playing such an important part in his career. The voice had come from outside the pilot house. They had passed two of the blockading vessels. A rocket's gone up behind us, cried the captain from the bridge. A moment later, another rocket went up far ahead and to the right. In half an hour, the man at the wheel was told to signal for full speed, and the Sarah Bolton, which had now become the morning star, ran by the grim sentinel which was lying near the entrance of the northern channel. In no long time and without further incident, the morning star reached Wilmington. Doyle, determined to make the best of a bad situation, went to bed and dreamed of the green mantle of Venice. When he awoke, it was daylight, but he made no movement to arise. He was surprised to find how calmly a man could face the worst when he knows that it is inevitable. He tried to account for this, and so fell asleep again, and the sun was high when he awoke from his morning nap. He heard a voice calling from the wharf. Hey there, is Captain McCarthy aboard? Captain McCarthy. Doyle did not hear the reply. He did not listen. He had indulged in a hope that his friend, his companion on the voyage, would, at the last moment, employ some influence powerful enough to save him from the gallows. He had supposed that this hope was only a faint one, but now he knew how strong it had been. For an instant his courage died away completely. He held up his hand, and it was shaking. His lips were dry. He made no effort to rise from his bunk. He heard the voices of men as they approached the shaded portion of the deck, which was right at his stateroom window. Whoever the men might be, they placed their chairs so that he could hear every word they said, and he lay with his hands clasped behind his head, listening to the most interesting conversation that had ever reached his ears. I heard you were on the boat, and I was worried down to give you a piece of information that may be worth something to you. We had a man in one of the departments named Phil Doyle. Why, he was a rancor saseche in his talk than Bob Toones. But he was a spy. Yes, sir, a Yankee spy. Now he's gone. Disappeared as though the ground had opened and swallowed him, and he carried away with him some of the most valuable papers from the secret archives of the government. Yes, sir. The matter's been hushed up so the general public won't get a hold of it, but you better believe the government is stirred up about it. That's why I'm here now. Someone has been sent to every seaport in the south. They believe in Richmond that he'll go out to one of these towns and hire a couple of Negroes to row him out to one of the Yankee ships. You may laugh, continued the speaker, though Doyle had heard no sound of laughter. But if you don't keep both eyes open, Phil Doyle will put a big finger in your pie. Evidently, the silent person had made some gesture expressive of doubt or disdain. For the man who was doing all the talking raised his voice and spoke with more earnestness. Oh, I know you're a good one, Captain. We all know that. But Doyle's a mighty slick duck. What if I were to tell you that among the papers he carted off? He must have taken a bushel from the fuss they've been making. He had all the records relating to your work, an outline of your general plan, and a list of the names of the men who are working under you. Well, you may shake your head as hard as you please, Captain McCarthy, but Phil Doyle has the record and he's liable to make the Yankee climate mighty hot for you if you don't mind your eye. You don't seem to believe it, said the speaker with a touch of distress in his voice, but I tell you it is so. And I tell you, answered Captain McCarthy speaking for the first time, that you people in Richmond are laboring under a serious misapprehension. The sound of Captain McCarthy's voice gave Doyle a shock of surprise that it caused his heart to jump in his throat. The firm level tones, the clear enunciation and the mild mellowing touch of Irish accent were perfectly familiar. He had heard that voice every day during his involuntary voyage. Captain McCarthy had been his traveling companion. Misapprehension, Captain, cried the other in astonishment. Why, what can you mean? Why, with respect to Mr. Doyle, I am tolerably well acquainted with that gentleman and I am convinced he took no papers beyond the records referring to my work and plans. And in doing that, he did me a real service. A service? cried the other. A real service, persisted Captain McCarthy. He opened my eyes to the loose methods that are prevalent in the department at Richmond. If those records and documents had fallen into other hands, I would not be here today. In that statement, Doyle thought he found a grim satire on his own bungling, and he smiled over it. But he has the papers all the same, said the other, almost triumphantly, and he's sure to use them against you. On the contrary, remarked Captain McCarthy, I have the papers in my own possession. Captain McCarthy, said the other, he evidently arose from his chair, allow me to take off my hat to you. No flourishes, my friend, here are the documents. Take them in your hands and examine them, and when you return to Richmond, reassure my friends by the account you will give. No, I'll not return the papers. But for Mr. Doyle, they would still be exposed in the departments. In fetching them away, he has done me a signal service. And there's another matter. If Mr. Doyle has carried away any documents besides these, they will be duly returned by a trustworthy messenger. Then all this fuss is about nothing? No, it is something. Mr. Doyle no doubt learned some facts from the inside that make it desirable for a few individuals to close his mouth. At least two of these persons are not friendly to me. Now, when you return, my friend, publish it throughout the departments that McCarthy declared to you that Mr. Doyle's mouth will not be closed, and that some interesting facts will get into the papers if certain persons do not cease their meddling with affairs under my control. Oh, I see, exclaimed the other. Captain McCarthy, may I take off my hat again? Certainly, my friend, if your head is too warm. A long silence was broken by the person who had called to see Captain McCarthy. You are not going to Richmond then? Not if you will kindly give my friends an account of our conversation. I had intended to go, but you can save me the journey. With the greatest pleasure in the world, Captain, but your friends will be disappointed. If no worse disappointment befalls them, they will have few troubles in this world, and this is the lot to which my affection commends them. Well, I must rush off a dispatch, said the other. How shall I put it? Just say, Doyle was with McCarthy in New York five days ago. That will cover the ground. The two men went down to the main deck, and Mr. Doyle arose and dressed himself very hurriedly. There was much in his mind for which he could not find the words. He was not elated over what seemed to be his escape. He was simply rejoicing over the fact that his traveling companion, to whom he had become very much attached, and Captain McCarthy, were one and the same individual. And he was grateful, as one friend is to another, for his singular escape from a fate which he himself had courted. He thought of a thousand things to say when he should meet his friend, but what he did say was very tame and commonplace. Captain McCarthy, you have been very good to me. Twas a mere whim of mine returned the other with a quizzical expression in his face, a desire to please my girl. But Doyle knew, by the hearty grip the Captain gave him, that he had been saved by something more than a whim. End of Section 14 End of The Kidnapping of President Lincoln and Other War Detective Stories by Joel Chandler Harris