Free Blockade Runner by Gilbert L. Morris Page B

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.”

10
A Gallant Officer
    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.
    Bier saluted him, saying, “We meet again, Captain Almy.”
    Captain Almy seemed somewhat shocked to see Bier. He was a tall man with muttonchop whiskers and cold blue eyes. “I’m sorry it’s come to this, Bier,” he said.
    “So am I,” Captain Bier said sardonically. “I surrender the ship to you, sir.”
    “If we could go to your cabin, I’d like to make some records of this transaction.”
    “Of course, Captain.”
    The two men went below, and when they had spoken for some time of the details of the surrender, Captain Almy leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Never thought it would come to this, Bier.”
    “There’s risk in running the blockade. I won for a long time—and now I’ve lost.”
    “You’ve never cried over your losses—I remember that.”
    “No point, is there?”
    Captain Almy appeared troubled. “You should have joined the U.S. Navy. You’d have been high in the service by now.”
    “We all make our choices, sir.”
    “But the Confederacy was doomed from the start!”
    “A man must stand for what he believes.”
    “Even if what he believes is wrong?”
    “Slavery is wrong. I know that as well as any man.”
    “Then why didn’t you fight for our side?”
    Bier studied Almy carefully. “Suppose your family took a wrong position, sir. Then suppose that you were asked to fight against them. Would you do it?”
    Captain Almy sat in his chair, silent and thinking. He finally shook his