He sighed again and realized again that he was remembering events months old and that the present had to be dealt with first. The stars had drifted to the west when he next looked up at them as the nightly breeze made its usual appearance. Once again he felt old, much older than his years. When Hardin and his half of the crew came on watch, Wake gratefully lay down on the deck and slid his cluttered mind into nothingness. Just remembering Linda and their love together had exhausted him.
The birds woke him just before dawn with a sound unlike any he had ever heard. Hundreds of birds, birds of all kinds, from the majestic great herons to the seagulls and the smaller birds whose names he did not know. They filled the sky and swooped close to the sloop. Their varying cries and squawks woke the crew and started an excited conversation among the men about the strange sight. Wake remembered his uncle back in New England telling him as a boy that the presence of men would disturb the animals of the woods and cause them to become agitated. Wake also remembered the many times he’d seen a predator fish startle a school of smaller fish. The frenzy below the water would soon extend above it, the hunters and the hunted both jumping and skimming the surface.
Wake peered through the gloom toward the southern shore of the river, a tangle of reeds and mangroves, where the birds seemed to be coming from. He called the attention of the crew to that shore and told them to scan it for the enemy just as the sky was starting to show the loom of the sun traversing the earth still far below the horizon. Wake then decided that the best thing to do was to get the whole crew to quarters and set some to scan both sides of the river. This done, he told Hardin to weigh the anchor and man the sweeps with only four men, the rest to be used as lookouts. From the strange sight of the birds and Wake’s definitive orders, the crew was stimulated and the dialogues among them soon spoke of prize money and women and rum.
It was Wilson who first saw the vessels. They were not coming down the river, but upriver from the west. Two boats from the Gem of the Sea could be seen rowing up the channel about two miles away in the shadows of the lower river. Wake told the men to keep working the sweeps, but to slow down so the boats could catch up. He certainly was not going to forfeit progress upcurrent, and the relatively cool morning was the best time of day to use the physically demanding sweeps to make headway toward the enemy.
Wilson was receiving the accolades of his messmates when Durlon shouted out that the enemy vessels were along the southern shore on the starboard bow. A spontaneous cheer went up from the men of the Rosalie, and Wake felt an embarrassing surge of pride in his little ship and crew. By God, he thought, we will capture those vessels and take them back, right here, right now.
Since they knew they had been spotted, the Confederates were setting sail on the sloop and schooner as they had only to go downwind, and they knew the location of all the shoals and deep areas of the river. Once again Wake set his mind to work visualizing the geometry of the two opposing courses. The Rebs were moving fast now, with the last of an ebb tide and the easterly morning land breeze pushing them. He looked behind and saw that the boats from the Gem of the Sea had started to move at an angle toward the south shore. Wake knew at that point that he had the Rebs. If they did get past him, the boats astern would have a chance at them. He altered course for the shoreline also and told Hardin to prepare to set sail. They would cut off the enemy and board them, schooner first. The ship’s boats could get the stragglers.
Just as he finished explaining his concept to Hardin and Durlon, Conner called out that the Rebs had turned around and were heading upriver again. Having doused their sails, they were now under sweeps like the Rosalie. Wake examined them by telescope, and then offered it to Hardin and Durlon for their perusal.
“’Bout a mile, I venture, sir. They’re movin’ pretty good under them sweeps. Bottoms are probably cleaner than ours. ’Course, they got some reason to be goin’ fast too,” reported Hardin as he handed the glass to the gunner.
“Extreme range, sir. I can try one for moral effect, if you’d like,” said an enthusiastic Durlon. He always would have a reason to fire his beloved cannon.
“If we fire right now, it’ll help to establish that the chase and the captures are ours. Those bastards from the Gem don’t deserve a penny of our money. They’ll only get the in-sight money. Just make sure you don’t accidentally hit that Reb hull, gunner!” counseled Hardin to his captain and the gunner’s mate.
Wake looked again at the Confederate ships, the Federal ship’s boats coming up from behind, and the relative angle of his own vessel to the others.
“Very well. Durlon, fire a shot. Make sure you have the range and don’t fire short of them. I don’t want to encourage them!”
The boom of the ship’s gun wasn’t even noticed by the crew in their intensity to see the fall of the shot. It threw up a geyser just forward of the Rebel sloop, which was leading the schooner upriver. Another cheer rose from the men as Durlon accepted his congratulations from the crew. But the Confederates did not stop. Instead, a puff of musket smoke showed on the deck of the schooner, the flight or impact of the round not apparent.
“Wastin’ a blank fire.” Durlon shook his head with disapproval.
With the defiance of the Confederate crew, Wake knew that it would be a long chase up the river into the jungles known well by the enemy. It was obvious now that they were hoping to lure him into a trap. Good Lord, he thought, if I lose this ship I’ll never be able to go anywhere in New England again. The disgrace would be complete and well known. No victory at this place would ever make the papers up north, but a defeat would be broadcast everywhere, and by the Reb papers as well. Linda would sympathize, and her father would rejoice. . . .
As the chase continued inexorably up the narrowing river, Wake stood by the mast and stared at the stern of the schooner, trying to will himself into the mind of her captain and his plan for escape. It was intensely personal with the men now. A quiet sense of commitment had settled over ol’ Rosey and her men. The day progressed with the changing of the watches, the shoreline of the river slowly going by at two knots, a quarter mile away on either beam. Discussions periodically rose as to the distance between the Rosalie and the schooner, but it wasn’t until almost noon that the space began to grow noticeably shorter.
The shorelines crept ever closer to the sloop, and now the crew had to watch for sharpshooters as well. Behind them, the other boats kept coming. With their lighter hulls they were gaining on the Rosalie and almost within shouting distance. Wake kept his course on the schooner since she obviously drew at least as much water as Rosalie.
But even with relieving the men at the sweeps every half hour, the crew was nearing exhaustion. The heat and humidity were taking their toll. Wake decided the only thing to do was to keep chasing them until close enough for an effective shot. It was time to end this. He didn’t want to go too far upriver and into a trap.
As the day went on, Wake and Hardin took their turns at the sweeps too. Hardin was not enthusiastic but could hardly protest when the captain took his place at a long oar. Still the chase continued, until the range was slowly closing down to an almost sure shot.
By this time the shoreline had changed from mangrove jungle to marshland, with an occasional palm thicket clumped on higher ground. Small creeks opened up more frequently along the shoreline and they saw people among the trees twice. Watching them. Waiting. Every man aboard was unnerved by the sight of the Rebs watching them. Imagining what was to come started to give way to verbal speculation among the men. Wake told them to save their breath for working the sweeps. He also told Durlon to check all the weapons to make sure they were ready for immediate use.
By sunset they were still at it, now more like dumb animals toiling at a simple but long-lasting job. The Confederates showed no sign of stopping, had not even slowed. It appeared in the half light that the distance to t
he enemy was starting to widen. The shoreline had become thick palm and bush, with overhanging oak limbs reaching downward and underwater snags reaching upward. The Rosalie seemed huge in the narrowing river, with jungle now only a couple hundred feet away on either beam. The men felt totally exposed on the flush deck with no shield from a rifleman on the river bank. And there was no way with all the dense forest to see that man until he fired and the smoke revealed his position.
As it started to get dark, Wake told the men to rest easy on their oars, set the anchor, and let the two ships’ boats behind catch up with them. He wasn’t going to continue onward in the dark after the enemy vessels. Instead, they would take the three naval craft and anchor in line across the river. There would be no way the Rebs could get past them in the night. Wake waited for the smaller boats to come alongside and invited their officer aboard the Rosalie for a conference.
Amidst the sounds of the crews gasping for air as they lay all over the decks of the vessels, Wake, Hardin, and the boat officer and petty officer sat down on the afterdeck and evaluated their situation. The ensign in charge of the boats was a tall, awkward-looking boy of around nineteen named Thorton. He acted nervous and constantly looked over at his second in command, a bosun named Moore. Moore had the appearance, like Hardin, of being a man who had seen a bit of life. Wake, who was now the ranking officer of a small flotilla, spoke first.
“All right, men, we will anchor in line abreast the river for the night. Watch on watch for lookouts, with all weapons loaded and ready. Any questions or suggestions on that part?”
After receiving the expected reply, Wake continued, “How much food and water do you have, Mr. Thorton?”
Thorton looked perplexed and then terrified. He glanced at Moore, who stared at the shoreline without acknowledgment. Thorton then started to cough and gasp. Wake waited a moment and looked at Moore. “Moore, do you have an idea of how many rations you may have?”
Moore turned to Wake and replied quietly, “Three days, sir. Got fifty rounds per man, too.” As he ended, Thorton’s coughs subsided and he mumbled something that sounded like, “Excuse me, sir.” The boy then stared at Wake like a man awaiting his sentence before a judge. Hardin and Moore looked at each other and silently communicated their disgust for Thorton, their supposed superior officer. Wake ignored Thorton’s misery.
“All right, get your boats anchored. Keep your men sharp tonight. An hour before sunup we will start upriver again. If we don’t see the enemy vessels by dark tomorrow, we will turn back for the coast. We’ve spent two days chasing them and have got to come to the head of navigation on this river soon.”
Hardin turned from staring at the almost teary Thorton and said in a challenging tone, “We’ll get ’em in the morning. This river goes on for quite a ways, but that schooner can’t carry her draft much farther. Bring a nice price at Key West too. Just you men from the Gem remember who started this chase and who’s been firin’ at ’em. The Rosey’s got the main prize money and you bastards aren’t gonna get your hands on it.”
The crews from all three vessels heard that remark. According to regulations, all naval vessels and sailors in sight at the time of capture would share the prize money. Wake sensed the tension fill the air around him. The men from the Gem of the Sea’s boats started to stir, and Moore stood up and said directly to Hardin, “Hardin, you always were a sea lawyer. Why don’t we catch the Rebs first, and then you can argue over it.”
“That’s enough from both of you,” Wake ordered as the two petty officers started to face each other and the other sailors, now alert and watching every move, got very quiet. “Mr. Thorton, take your boat crews and get anchored now. These men need all the rest they can get before the morning.”
Thorton, who had slid back from the center of the action, answered meekly in the affirmative and got up to head for his boat. Moore turned his back on Hardin and proceeded to his own boat.
Ten minutes later, Wake had Hardin in his stifling and humid cabin. Wake was sitting on his bunk at the tiny chart table looking by the light of a small lamp at Hardin, who squatted against the moldy bulkhead, swatting at the bugs that were swirling in the lamplit space. It was the only private place in the ship where Wake could speak with Hardin.
“Don’t ever embarrass me or this ship again with that kind of demeanor, Hardin. I don’t care what you think of me or anything else. We have a job to do, and we will do it. Your insubordinate attitude just gets in the way. Do you understand me exactly?”
“Moore is an ass. Always has been. Toadying up to that ensign, and tryin’ to get into our prize money. I know that kind, sir. They’ll make sure they are there right after we get the schooner, holdin’ out their hands for the money!”
Wake looked across the dim, smoky light into Hardin’s eyes. He saw no sign of acknowledgment of what he had said to him, only anger.
“If they’re in sight at the time of capture they will get some of the money. You know that. Now, answer me right here, Hardin. Your attitude will stop right now.”
Hardin stared at Wake and said very deliberately, “Aye aye, sir. Am I dismissed?”
Wake, his own blood now warming, glared at the bosun. “Yes. We will speak of this no more.”
Hardin immediately climbed the ladder out of the cramped cabin and left Wake thinking that the morning would be a crucial time for many reasons. He also knew at that moment that he and Hardin were going to have to settle the distrust between them. Wake sat alone in the dim light and thick air for a long time, sweating and thinking about where he was, and how in the world he had gotten there. He finally blew out the lamp and stretched out on the crude bunk, staying below in his own cabin, away from the men he commanded. In the sweltering air Wake finally drifted off to sleep.
He heard the whispers first. They intruded illogically upon him and Linda in his dream, a wonderful dream with her in his arms and the wind in the gumbo limbo trees around them. But now he heard Durlon’s voice in the room quietly saying something to the effect of waking up the captain and letting him know something. He looked toward Linda, but she was gone. There was only Sommer, the boy, shaking him and saying, “Sir, they’s acomin’ down the river. The Rebs are acomin’ down the river, we think.”
Wake shuddered and sat up as Sommer climbed up the ladder and advised Durlon that the captain was awake and coming up. Wake sat in the dark and organized his thoughts while putting on his filthy trousers and shirt. Today was the day. Now was the time. It had all come down to this.
He saw as he came up on deck that the crews of the three boats were all mustered and ready. Everyone was staring forward, up the river, with the petty officers quietly hushing the men so all could hear. Then Wake heard the sound—a small creak followed by a swish, followed by another creak, and followed by the swish again. The rhythmic sounds of sweep oars slowly moving a vessel.
“How far, do ye think, sir?” whispered Durlon.
“Don’t know. Can’t tell. Pass the word to Hardin to quietly get the anchor hove short and the sweeps ready.”
Suddenly Hardin loomed up beside Wake and said that he had already done those things. All was ready. Durlon checked his cannon and its gun crew one more time while the rest of the crew got ready at their assigned sweeps. Wake looked at Moore’s and Thorton’s boats and saw that all appeared ready. He found himself wondering how Thorton would do if there was a fight and then thought of everyone in his own crew, wondering how he would do in a fight. The thought of his being in command of this whole thing made him shudder involuntarily. A bilious turmoil started in his bowels, and he took a deep measured breath to overcome it. A few seconds later it was gone, lost to the overpowering multitude of stimuli besieging his senses.
He heard Hardin telling Durlon to aim high and not hit the hulls with his canister load. Durlon replied with a brief and quiet acknowledg
ment. Others were starting to whisper until Hardin growled a low warning to “shut the hell up.”
Wake glanced at his watch in the starlight and thought it indicated about four in the morning. The starlight gave a sense of depth to his eyesight, and Wake could even make out the men on the boats anchored on either side of him. Then his mind registered that the sounds were getting closer. To his straining ears it sounded like two vessels. Abruptly, a nighthawk flew by from the left shoreline and let out his high-pitched cry, startling everyone. Wake let out a breath and turned his focus back upriver, noting that the wind was coming down the river, muffling any noise his boats’ crews might make from the sailors of the Rebel schooner and sloop.
Now they could get a bearing on the enemy sounds, coming down the southern shore of the river, to the right of the Rosalie and almost dead ahead of Thorton’s boat. It sounded like the Confederates might be about a hundred yards away, coming downstream with the current. Wake looked over to the boat on his right. Thorton was staring ahead and whispering with a crewman. Wake knew he couldn’t yell anything to Thorton, but just had to trust in the young man’s judgment. A glance to his left showed Wake that Moore, in the other boat, had his crew hauling up the anchor and preparing to come over to the right.
Without warning, a blast exploded on the right, followed by a volley of more blasts, as the men in Thorton’s boat fired at the enemy. The light of the musket blasts flared out over the water and illuminated the schooner for a brief moment. She was moving quickly under sweeps with the sloop right behind her. Men on all the vessels were now shouting and screaming. Blasts and flames were coming from everywhere. The stillness of the night was instantly replaced with a maelstrom of noise without logic or sense.
At the Edge of Honor (The Honor Series) Page 8
