The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 20, 1903, Page 11

7. YA Z: V\\‘i ///w' f tered at her back were the three trem- bling negroes armed ene with a knife, «nother with a pistol, another with a stout club. He would have swept them out of his path in an instant had it not been for the girl. She stood be- fore him with outstretched armas, her attitude a mixture of deflance and ap- “It is teo late,” she sald, “you were to go at 7 o'clock. It is past that now. Baved, saved!” He could de her ne violenos, that was oertain. He stood silent before her, his head bent teward the fleor, thinking deeply. Her heart went out to him then, her soul yearned to him. She had hurt him, he must hate her— and she loved him. “Will you not come in and speak te me for & moment?” he asked her quickly enough at last. She signed to the men., stepped ferward, the doer was closed, and locked behind her, and they were alo: “Did you think te be of service to me?” he burst out as she drew near and then paused irresclute, miserable. “You have ruined me for lifel I begged that detall. I volunteered. I must get sut. They may walt for me. It may not be too late. For God's sake unlock the door!™ She shook her head, she could not trust herself to spealk. “I don’t understand you. If it to— love—for—me—"" Bhe stared at him bessechingly, mute appeal for mercy, for help, in her lovely eyes. “You are condemuing me to death, worse than death I am going!” “You cannot!™ Bhe came closer as she spoke. Bud- @enly he seized her, drew her closg to him, held her with his left arm, and there was happiness for her in his touch. Ehe was as a child before his strength. With his right hand he pre- sented his pistol to her temple. He took advantage of her weakness, but only in the service of a higher cause than Jove of & woman, in answer to a greater demand than even she could make. She offered no resistance either. What was the use. called out, sharply. “Are “I bave your mistress ln my arms, my pistol is at her head. If you do not instantly open the door I shall kill ber where I stand!" “Cato, I forbid you to open!™ cried Fanny Glen in a ringing volce, still making no effort to struggle and look- ing up into the infuriated man's face with the expression of a martyr and en angel. He saw and recognized, but persisted. It was his only way. “Open instantly!” he said again, “un- less you would see your mistress die!™ That was & threat the men could not resist. In & second the door was opened. The awestruck faces of the blacks peered into the room. “Throw down your arms, here at my feet, you black hounds shouted Sempland. “Quick! Or I fire!” Instantly knife, pistol and bludgeon clattered on the floor at his feet. “Out of the way now! Leave the hall! I want a clear passage!™ “Kill me! Kill me!” cried the gi “and have done!” He released her in a moment. “You have dishonored m he cried. “I fear it is too late. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head. But I love you— I love vou! He strained her to his breast, press- ing a pessionate, burning kiss upon her ips. He wasted a few precious sec- onds, but he could not help it. She threw her arms about his neck and re- turned his kiss. He could feel her heart beating ageainst his own. “I cannot let you go!” she ay with me and I am yours.” “I must go!” He tore himself from her and ran down the passage into the street. She thought she would have fainted at that instant, but something—suspense, the faint possibility of success, doubt— merved her to action. After a few mo- ments of awful uncertainty she fol- lowed Sempland along the passage into the street. He was not to be seen. She knew where he had gone, however, and she bent her steps toward the Govern- ment wharf. Bhe went slowly at first, but finally ran at her greatest speed. cried. CHAPTER V. THE HOUR AND THE MAN, The David, so named because al- though she was emall it was hoped she would strike terror to the huge Go- liaths of the Union fleet, was bullt of boller fron. Bhe was thirty feet long and of & cigar shape, her greatest diam- eter being a little less then six feet. Bhe was propelled by a hand engine worked by members of her crew, and could be submerged at pleasure, but experience had shown that once down the ususlly stayed down with all on board. A resume of her history has been given. She was a floating or sink- ing death trap. Originally she was intended to drag after her a floating torpedo in the hope that she could pass under a vessel's keel and explode the torpedo when she reached the proper position. General Beauregard, however, had positively forbidden that she should be ‘used as a submarine any longer on account of her disastrous behavior, and on this occasion she was provided with a long spar sticking out from her nose, on the end of which was 100 pounds of pow- der iIn a copper cylinder provided with four extremely sensitive tubes of lead containing & highly explosive mixture which would ignite upon contact with a ship's side or bottom and explode the torpedo. She was vainted a slate gray and her ballast was so adjusted that with the elght men who manned her on board, one to steer, one to look after the torpedo, and six to turn the pro- peller crank, her low hatch scarcely rose above the water. In that condi- tion, and especlally at night, she looked like a plank floating on the sur- face. By hard and consclentious labor ,.,‘,‘ 77 1 \ &7 7 | Ay v L = @ THE ‘. N \ her man-power engine could shove her along at about & speed of four knots. Although the order of General Beaure- gard that she should not be submerged again had materially diminished the risk which experience had shown was overwhelming, yet the proposed expedi- tion was nevertheless hazardous in the extreme. In the first place an excellent look- out was kept on the Union ships on ac- count of the several attempts which had been made against them by simi- lar boats. Jf she were discovered, one shot striking the boat as she ap- proached, even a rifle shot, would suf- fice to sink her. No one knew what she would do even if she succeeded in ex- ploding the torpedo. It was scarcely hoped that she could get away from a sinking ship in that event. The little party of soldlers grouped on the wharf bade good-by to the men who entered the deadly affair as if they were saying farewell to those about to die. Every preparation had been made, the artillery officer had finally and carefully inspected the torpedo to see that it was in good working order, the men had descended into the cramped narrow little hull of the boat and had made ready to start the propeller. None of them wore any superfluous clothing, for it was oppressively hot in the confined area of the little iron shell, and they might have to swim for their lives anyway—perhaps they would be lucky if they got the chance. In short, everybody was ready and every one was there except the commander of the expedition. 2 Great secrecy has been observed in the preparations lest there might be a spy in the town who, learning of the attempt, would communicete the valuable information to the Federal fleet and so frustrate it. General Beau- regard had caused the wharf to be cleared and guarded early in the even- ing. It was quite dark in February at 6 o'clock and no one except his trusted staff officers and Lacy, who had so magnani- mously surrendered his opportunity to Semp- lan were present. At a quan ter before 7, which Was the time Sempland had appointed to re- turn when he left in obedience to Fanny Glen's summons, the general bezan to feel some uneasine: He spoke about gt to Lacy, but was reassured by that gentleman, who expressed full confi- dence, that the young lieutenant would undoubtediy be there in a few mo- ments. He had already of his own mo- tien dispatched a soldier to Fanny Glen’s house and had learned from him the false news that Sempland had been there and had left. Lacy supposed he had returned- to his quarters. The state of the tide, the necessities of the blockade runners, who hoped to escape that night under cover of the confusion caused by the attack, ren- dered it absolutely necessary that there should’ be no delay in the departure of the torpedo boat. The time had been set for 7 o'clock, as late as practicable, in order to give all the advantage of 'settled darkness before the blow was delivered® The party on the whart waited apprehensively a little longer, conversing in low tones as the mo- ments ran away, and there was great anxiety as to the whereabouts of the missing officer. Beven o’clock struck from the ancient church steeple hard but still he did not appear. “General,” said Lacy a few moments later, “if I might suggest, sir"—— o on. What is 1t?" “It might be well to send for him.” “Never!” sald the general shortly, “it is a soldier’s duty to be at the plas appointed him at the specified time. I shall not send for him. If he has forgotten himself, his duty, for any cause, he shall suffer the conse- quences.” Lacy was in despair. understand the situation. He had not the slightest doubt of Sempland’s courage. He knew his friend’'s rigid idea of soldlerly duty or honor. Where had he ~~ne? If there had been any way he would have dispatched men to hunt in every direction, but the gen- eral’s prohibition was positive. And He could not \M”’ SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY 3 \\\\ /- ’/ S for some reason which he could not explain he refrained from saying any- thing about Sempland’s visit to Fanny Glen, merely advising the general, in response to an inquiry, that he had left him to go to his quarters to write a letter. Five minutes more dragged along. “General Beauregard,” sald Lacy at last, “with your permission I will seek him myself.” “No,” sald the general sternly, “we can wait no longer. I need you for something else.” “You mean- g “I mean that I shall carry out the original plan. Mr. Sempland has for- feited any consideration whatever at our hands.” “Then I am to——17" " Lacy pointed toward the David. ““Unless you wish to pack out.” “No one has ever used these words to me, sir,” answered Lacy proudly. “I am ready, as anxious, to go as I ever was. But Sempland—sir, I would stake my life on his fidelity.” “It may be so. I can wait no lon ‘Will you go, or shall I give up the pedition?” “Rather than that, sir,” sald one of his staff officers, “if Major Lacy hesi- tates let me.” “Enough!” said Lacy. “Will you ex- plain to Sempland how it came about? Good-by.” CHAPTER V. THE HOUR AND THE MAN. Lacy tore off his coat and vest, threw them on the wharf, saluted the general and stepped Into the boat. Some one in the group lifted a lantern. The flick- ering light fell on the pale faces of the determined men. “Good-by,” sald Beauregard; ‘you, at least, are an officer, a soldier of whom the South Is proud. Remember the flag- ship is your game. She lles at anchor right off the Main Ship Channel. Good luck to you. A colonel's shoulder straps await you here If you come back. God bless you all.” He wrung the ma- jor’s hand, watched him step into the David and whisper an order to his men, heard him call out: “Good-by. sir. It we don't come back don't forget us,” and that was all. The little boat ‘was shoved away from the wharf by willing hands and in a moment was lost In the darkness of the bay. There was no moon, and the night was dark. There was no light save from the stars. vé The torpedo boat slipped through the water without making a sound. She became entire- 1y Invisible a hun- dred feet away. The officers rubbed their eyes as shey stared in the di- rection where they had last . seen her, almost fearing that ghe had again sunk beneath the sea. They stayed there perhaps five minutes—at least, until the blockade runners, none of them showing a light of any description, could get under way in obedlence to a lantern signal from the general and nofgelessly slip down the bay in the wake of the frail little craft which it was hoped would be able to clear the path for them. “Now,” sald Beauregard, turning away at last, “for Mr. Sempland. I do not understand it. I never thought him a coward.” 4 “Nor am I, sir,"” panted a vgice out of the darkness, as a pale and breathless man burst through the group surround- ing the general. “Mr. Sempland!” “For God's sake, sir, am I in time? ‘The boat?” “Gone.” “How long? Call her back.” “It is too late. She has been gone ten minutes. Where were you, sir?” ““Who took her out?"” “Major Lacy. Answer my question, sir.” “He! My God! I am disgraced! Dis- honored! Afid she’™ “Where wers you, .u-r- e — The young man hesitated. “Why don’t you answer? Do you re- alize your position? You begged this detail. Why were you not here?” “Oh, General Beauregard" “How could you forget your honor? The South? Where were you, I say? Answer or I will have you shot in the morning."” “I—I—was detained, sir. I Is that your only excuse, sternly. Sempland was in a fearful predica- ment. To have restrained him by force wes an act of high treason. He could sir?”’ ;\z,t,— \‘/“'&\ rr\' \\.\\l/r',.. (" \\\\ < *\/ @/ GE/YE ffl THE DW'Y oF /Zfi’f/m oLz 74 o076 7s t"‘"\ only explain himself by implicating the woman he loved. The consequences in either case were dreadful. Fanny Glen a traitor to the South? Beauregard was a stern, inexorable soldler. He would not condone such an offense as hers. That she had falled in her ef- fort to prevent the expedition would mean nothing to the general. Fanny Glen, the pride of Charleston, the wo- man who had done more for the South than any other woman in the Caroll- nas, perhaps, to be disgraced, certainly to be punished, it might be—shot! She had ruined him, but he had kissed her. He could not say the word which would incriminate her and leave him free. He was disgraced already; he would be cashiered. Well, what mattered it? His chance was gone, the woman did not love him. His heart was hot against her. Yet he remembered the scene in the strong room—had she, Indeed, re- turned his kiss? He closed his lps firmly and said nothing. He would not, he could not betray her, even to him- self. “You do not answer, nlr' cuse hive you to offer?"” ““None.” “You sought this detall. You forced yourself into the expedition. Have you nothing to say for yourself?” “Nothing.” “You are under arrest, sir, for diso- bedience of orders, for dereliction of duty. By heavens!” sald the general, striking his left hana with his right, “for cowardice!" “For God's sake, not that, sir!" “For cowardice, sir! You knew the expedition was one of extreme hazard. You have no excuse to offer for not having been here. What else is 1t?" “Not that, sir. Not that!" pleaded the lleutenant. “Anything but that!” “A traltor, a coward, I say!” “General Beauregard!” cried a high pitched volce out of the darkress, shrill and unnatural with terror and fatigue. The next moment Fanny Glen herself, bareheaded, panting from her rapid run, white faced {n the light cast by the lantern held by the staff officer, pusbed through the group surrounding the ‘What ex- general. “Where is Mr, Sempland, sir?” she asked. “Here, under ar- rest. He fafled to arrive {n time, Can you explain {t?* “The boat?” “Gone.” ““Gone? who—" "Major took it out.” Then Lacy PSP “And the Wabash?” “Will be blowa up, please God, if all goes well.” The girl put her face in her hands. as if to shut out some dreadful pic- ture. She kept them there for a few seconds, then she lifted her head and looked unsteadily from the severe face of the general to the cold, disdainful countenance of Sempland. The man she loved shrank away from her. “Useless! Too late!” she murmured, then fell fainting at their feet. CHAPTER VL DEATH OUT OF THE DEEP. At 8:30 that night, February 17, 1864, the little torpedo-boat, after having successfully passed the monitors and ironclads anchored just out of range of Fort Sumter, and inside the shoals at the harbor mouth, was stopped about a mile from the éuter entrance of the main ship channel, where her quarry had been reported as lying quietly at anchor at nightfall. Success had at- tended the efforts of her devoted crew so far. By Lacy's command the David was stopped in order to give a little rest, a breathing space, before the last dash at their prey, to the weary sea- men who had driven her steadily on since leaving the wharf. The night was calm and very still. The hatch covers were thrown back, the tired men thrust their heads into the cool, sweet air, so refreshing after the closeness of their badly ventilated ves- sel, and wetted their fevered, ex- hausted bodies with the stimulating water of the bay. The artillery officer took advantage of the opportunity to make a careful re-examination of the torpedo, and Lacy was greatly relieved when he reported that he had every- thing in good working order so far as he was able to judge. The young com- mander of the expedition was the more anxious for success because of the pre- vious faflures ‘of similar endeavors. After a.ten-minute rest he gave the order to get under way. “Men,” he sald coolly, “you know the history of this boat. There's a chance, ay, more than a chance, that none of us will ever come back from this expedition. You knew all that when you volunteered. If we do get out allve 2= /I 7 N7 c" W CALL—CHRISTMAS NUMBER. /'/'//’l;-" fi our country will reward us. If we do not, the will not forget us. Shake hands, now. Good-by and God bless you. Put every pound of muscle you have Into that crank when we get with- in one hundred yards of the frigate and jump the boat into her. I'll give the signal. I want to strike her hard.” “Ay, ay, sir,” replied the seamen, as cheerfully as if there was only a frolic before them. “We'll do our best. Good- by and God bless you, sir. We're proud to serve under you, whatever comes.” “Thank you. pedo, captain?” “Yes, Major Lacy.” “Good. Down everybody, now! Clap to the hatch covers and start the cranks. Easy at first, and when I give the word—hard!” He seized the spokes of the steering wheel in his steady hand as he spoke. Back of him, to relieve him in case of accident, stood Captain Wagner, the artillery officer. The heavy planks were drawn over the open hatch, locked and bolted. Silently the men manned the cranks. The little engine of de- struction sped away. It was pitgh dark and very close and hot. There was no sound in the shell save the slight creak- ing of the cranks and the deep breath- ing of the crew as they toiled over them. Forward by the wheel there was a glass hood which permitted the men who steered to direct the course of the boat. As the sinister sea demon stole through the waters Lacy caught a sudden glimpse at last of the spars of a heavy ship at anchor before him. The night had cleared somewhat, and All ready with the tor- although there was 0 moon the stars ve sufficlent light for him to see the black tracery of masts and yards lifting _themselves above the horizon. OF How still the loom- ing ship lay. There was scarcely sea enough to tremble the tophamper of the unsuspecting man-of-war. A faint film of smoke falling lazily from her funnel {in the quiet alr, with her riding and side lights, were the only signs of life about her. No more peaceful looking object floated over the ocean apparently “It would be a pity,” reflected the man at the wheel for an instant, “to strike her so.” But the thought vanished as soon as it had been formulated. His heart leaped in his breast like the hound when he launches himself in that last spring which hurls him on his quarry. Another moment—a few more second: “That will be our game,” whispered Lacy to the artlllery captain, in a voice in which his feelings spoke. “Yes.” They were slowly approaching nearer. The bearings of the cranks and screws had been well oiled and the David slipped through the water without a sound. She was so nearly submerged that she scarcely rippled the surface of the water. There was no white line of foam to betray her movement through the black water. It was almost Impos- sible for any one to detect the aproach of the silent terror. ;There was nothing showing above the water except the flat hatch cover, and that to an unpracticed eye looked much like a drifting plank. Yet there were sharp eyes on the ship, and no negligent watch was kept either. When the David was perhaps 200 feet away she was seen. The steadiness of her movement proclaimed a thing intel- ligently driven. A sharp, sudden cry from the forecastle ahead of them rang through the night. It was so loud and 8o fraught with alarm that it came in a muffled tone to the men in the depths of the torpedo-boat. A bugle call rang out, a drum was beaten. The erstwhile “silent ship was filled with tumult and clamor. o “They have seen us!” said Lacy. “Ahead!” he cried hoarsely. “Hard!" At the same instant the chain cable of the frigate was shipped, bells jangled in her depths, the mighty engines clanked into sudden motion, the screws revolved, and she began to slowly drive astern. But it was too late, the sea devil was too near to be balked of the prey. The men at the cranks of the David, working with superhuman en- \\/ ’-\\\‘/‘/‘ e " WAY "‘ '\\(\\\\- / \ s l ergy, fairly hurled the torpedo-boat on the doomed ship. Lacy had time for a single upward glance—his last look at anything! The black railing towering above his head was swarming with men. Flashes of light punctuyred the darkness. Bullets pattered like rain on the fron. One or two tore through the flimsy shell. A jet of water struck him in the face. The next second there was a terrific concussion. The torpedo struck the ship Just forward the mainmast and explod- ed, tearing a great hole In the side ex- tending far below the water line. In the blaze of light that followed the men in the David cheered wildly and the next moment blackness over- whelmed them. On the frigate thers was the wildest confusion as the sleeping men below came swarming up on deck. Some of them never succeeded In reaching the hatchways and were drowned where they slept. Some were killed by the explosion. The officers, however, quickly Trestored order, and as a last resort or- dered the surviving men Into the rig- ging, for the water where she lay was shallow and there they could find safe- ty. The ship was hopelessly lost. In- deed, she began to sink so soon as the torpedo exploded. The water poured into her vitals and soon the crash of exploding boflers and the hiss of escap- Ing steam added their quota to the con- tusion. Some of the cooler among the officers and men lingered on the decks, small arms in hand, searching the sea on every hand until the decks were awash. They were looking and hoping for a chance at the boat which had caused them such a terrible disaster, but they Mever saw her. She had disappeared. Bignals had been burned instantly on the shattered ship. Far up and down the line the lights of moving vessels burning answering signals showed that they were alert to render assistance. Bosts, ship’s cutters, dashed alongside to render help, and they, too, sought the torpedo-boat, but in vain. She was mot to be found. At the same time the ships of the fleet d1d not move from their appointed stations, and when the blockade run- ners came dashing down through the Swash channel in the hope that the Vvessels usually stationed there would be withdrawn In the excitement they were met by a deadly fire from the rifled guns, which rendered it impossi- ble for them to proceed. They turned tall and fled. Two of them succeeded in returning to the harbor. One of them never came back. She was set on fire and burned by the shells of the ships. The monitors and ironclads jolned in the battle, the forts returned the fire and the quiet night was filled with the “noise of roaring cannon and exploding shells. Lacy’s had been & gallant and herole attempt. It had succeeded as to the blowing up of a Federal warship. but it had falled otherwise. By a singular freak of fortune the blow had not fallen upon the vessel for which it had been intended. After dark the fine new sloop-of-war Housatonic had replaced the Wabash off the Main Bhip Channel, and she had suffered instead of the flagship. Although when day broke she was sought for again, nothing more was seen of the David. At least not then. With the explosion of the tor- pedo she had vanished from the face of the waters. For a long time General Beauregard and the people in Charles- ton waited for tidings of her, but it was not until the war was over and the Housatonic was raised that the mys- tery was solved. They found the tor- pedo boat with her nose jammed inex- tricably into the hole she had torn In the side of the ship. Perhaps the in- rush of the waves had sucked her into the opening, and the roll of the ship had fastened her more securely. At any rate she was there. She was, of course, filled with water, and in her, at thelr stations, they found the bodles of her devoted crew, Lacy with his hand in the wheel. Nothing in life had so become Lacy as the ending of it. It is a proverb that the good men do lies buried with them, the evil is long remembered. It was not so in his case, at any rate, for men forgot everything but the dauntless heroism with which he had laid down his life for his country, and that as- sured his fame. And, after all, he was not to be pitied, for he died the death of his cholca CHAPTER VIL . A MISERABLE PAIR AND A MIS- ERABLE NIGHT. Sempland’s mind was in a fearful turmotl. It had all come so suddenly and unexpectedly upon him that as yet he hardly realized the gravity of his situation, although it could scarce- 1y be worse. He was under arrest and in confinement, facing such serious charges as neglect of dut], disobedi- ence of orders, treason, cewardicel As to these last, he was so consclous of his loyalty and Intrepidity that they ald not worry him so much as they might have done. The other things were bad enough, but surely, surely, no one could either belleve him either a traitor or a coward! His mind did not dwell on his own situation as it might have done, either, it it had not been for Fanny Glen. In- stinctively he had stepped forward te gather her in his arms when she faint- ed before him on the whart that night, but he had been sternly waved back by the general and, without being given a chance to learn anything about her condition, he had been hur- ried to headquarters and heavily guarded in the room where he was to be held pending Beauregard's further pleasure. As for Fanny Glen, although Sempland could not know it, the sur- geon who had been present had speedily revived that young woman, a carriage had been summoned, and she had been taken home under the escort of one of the staff officers. Continued Next Week. = \.\