Of course, all of this occurred in front of the crew, who were by this time doing their post anchoring duties with at least one ear and one eye taking in the conversation of their captain. Wake, remembering the pleasant sail of the last two days and trying to gain the confidence, and therefore the intelligence, of the islanders, accepted the invitation. He told Hardin, who was nonchalantly sitting on the gun and listening, that half the crew could have liberty ashore until midnight. The liberty party would consist of Hardin and four men, whom he could pick, with Durlon and the others standing an anchor watch. The response of the crew was instantaneous merriment for the liberty men and resignation by the others who had to stay aboard. Wake even felt cheered and thought that he might have been wrong about the island, mysteries and all.
With the departure of the islanders in their dories, the Rosalie returned to normal, some of the duty crew doing the ongoing routine work under the gaze of Durlon, and the others getting themselves ready for their time ashore. Wake gathered the liberty men at the stern and told them that they were not to cause trouble or give the ship a bad name. Hardin was told that he was responsible for watching over them, to which he actually smiled and stated that he would make sure the ruffians would not do anything “like they do in Key West.” The last remark had worried Wake, but his mental preparation for dealing with the islands’ leaders ashore diverted any serious misgivings.
The festivities started at six o’clock in the evening on the central hill that overlooked all of the surrounding islands. Wake had never been past the beach on the island before, and in the softening light he could smell the perfume of flowers blooming everywhere as he walked up the path through the settlement. Gumbo limbo trees stretched their clawlike limbs upward and outward, providing a wonderful shade and sense of grandeur. As he ascended the hill he could hear some stringed instruments playing a song that sounded familiar from his past, but his lack of musical ability prevented him from identifying either the song or the instruments.
At the top of the hill Wake was greeted by a small crowd of about fifty people, who grouped around him in a confusing whirl of introductions that left him dazed. Wake had a cup thrust into his hand and he absentmindedly took a swallow of it as he tried to handle his new-found position of high-ranking visitor and representative of the government for which these people had made such sacrifices. Just as he was thinking this thought, the contents of the cup went down his throat and he belatedly realized it was straight rum, and a powerful rum at that.
Coughing and sputtering, to the amusement of the men in the group and the sympathy of the women, Wake tried to regain his composure by complimenting the rum. After the laughter died down, Cornell said that dinner was served and they should all sit. The gathering was seated at a line of tables set up on top of the hill, with a magnificent view of the islands around them. The sun in the west was producing one of its most splendid displays of beauty, with changing colors that defied description diffusing throughout the sky and even touching the islands themselves. It was as if the sun was an actor who had saved his best performance for the last act of the day. With the natural beauty around him and the smells of the dinner tempting him, Wake had the pleasing sensation of actually being content. It was such a rare emotion in the last few months that he almost didn’t recognize it. And as much as his constitution was against it, he felt himself starting to relax as he sat down at the position indicated at one of the tables.
Wake, seated at the position of honor next to Cornell, found the man Horndum sitting on his other side and the Irishman O’Clooney across from him. It seemed that the men all sat on one end of the table and the ladies at the other, which Wake found strange and a bit disappointing.
After Cornell said grace, the feast began. Wake, ever the sailor, noted that the wind had started to veer to the south but was still light. As the sun sank below the dark line of the Gulf of Mexico, dry “lighter wood” sticks were set afire as torches in pots and pans on the tables, apparently because candles were too dear to be used on this occasion, or perhaps they had none. A bonfire at each end, and two on either side, completed the lighting arrangements for the evening. Wake found himself impressed by most of the people he conversed with during the dinner of smoked and baked fish, roasted wild pig, and various tropical fruits. It seemed that many were former townspeople from all over the state, and their stories of how they came to be on this island had the common thread of sadness. Still, they were persevering, and several spoke of taking the offensive against the Rebels on the mainland.
Wake had heard stories like these before. While transporting families down the coast, or rescuing individuals on vessels or deserted islands, he had heard the stories of how they had fled, leaving everything they had built. The Confederates periodically attempted to sweep this area of the pro-Union refugees. The most recent planned attempt had almost come a month earlier, according to his hosts. However, the battle on the Peace River had thwarted that attack before it could be mounted. As the island men told Wake that piece of information, which he had not heard before, he noticed that the tables had gotten quiet and that everyone was listening. All eyes focused on Wake as Cornell stood with his hand out and solemnly said, “Captain Wake, thank you for all that you and your crew did. We don’t have much here and cannot say or do more than that, but know that it is from the bottom of our hearts.” A chorus of “here, here” broke out mixed with some “amens,” and all the refugees applauded the now-embarrassed naval officer. He knew he would have to speak to these people and stood hesitantly.
“I did not know about the planned attack. We knew that they periodically would try, but I did not know that it would have come that soon. On behalf of my men and our ship, thank you for your kind words. Some day, God willing, this war will end, and we can all go back to our own peaceful pursuits. I wish all of you the most wonderful fortune in that endeavor.”
Wake was not used to public speeches, in fact had never made one. His only speaking to a group of persons had been to a crew on a deck, and he hoped that he had sounded polished enough and not offended anyone. Cornell, sensing the young naval officer’s predicament, thanked Wake for his words and mercifully suggested that they all now concentrate on eating dessert. This dessert, a pie made from the tart limes that grew nearby, mixed rather agreeably with the rest of the feast such that Wake found himself eating far more than he could remember in quite a long time. In his sated and slightly intoxicated state, with the stars now starting to appear in the indigo sky around them and someone playing the lilting song “Loreena” on a guitar, Wake thought of Linda and wished she were here with him to experience this.
As he looked around at these Americans who had been forced out of their homes in their own country, he saw that many of the men and women had grown very quiet while listening to the balladeer sing his story. Cornell and O’Clooney had taken pity on their guest and had steered Horndum off to some other victim who had to listen to his prattle about the way things would be in Florida when the war was over and it became “their turn” to run the state. Wake, lulled by all of this, was just starting to slip into a comfortable doze in his chair when he heard a girl scream down by the beach.
Another scream came, this time louder, longer, and more of an animalistic shriek. The girl and her screams seemed to be moving rapidly down the beach, away from the area of the dock. By this time, everyone on top of the hill had started down the path, some carrying the torches that had previously made the evening seem so gay. Wake looked around him for some of his crew but could find none. They had been seated much further down the table from him, and he had lost track of them after dinner.
The crowd made the beach in a short time and was confronted with a sight that instantly emptied Wake of any pleasant feeling. It was replaced by a rage such as he had never felt when he saw Hardin pinioned by four stout refugee fishermen. Hardin’s shirt was missing and his trous
ers were down around his knees. He presented an almost lupine appearance, his mouth snarling at the fishermen and his hands frantically clawing at their arms. One of the refugee men, his face red with rage, came up to Cornell and Wake sputtering, “That navyman there ripped the dress of my girl. My girl is only thirteen. He tried to rape my little girl!”
Wake looked around for the other men of his crew and saw that Lamar, Sommer, and Burns were standing in the background of the very agitated crowd. He called them to him and told them to tie Hardin’s hands securely behind his back and then guard him from escape. Wake then turned to Cornell and the fisherman and asked if the girl was physically harmed, to which the father said that she was bruised and had some cuts from the bushes.
“Sir, I don’t know exactly what to say except that Hardin is under arrest and will be taken to the Gem of the Sea immediately.” Wake said this to the girl’s father but spoke loudly enough for all to hear. Cornell nodded his acknowledgment and tried to console his friend as some in the crowd made comments about taking care of “the animal” right there.
“Mr. Cornell, I am very sorry that happened. Tell me if there is anything that I can do for the girl or her family.”
“Just get him off the island right now, Captain Wake, or he won’t see the sun rise.”
Wake strode over to the now-quiet Hardin and told the sailors guarding him to get the dory from the beach to take him to the sloop. When they had gone to see about the boat, Wake brought his face up close to Hardin’s and breathed the words as calmly as he could. “What happened, Hardin? Tell me the truth.” He could smell the rancid odor of the rum emanating from Hardin. He could see it in the eyes of the man. Hardin formed his words and spat them at Wake, as at a target.
“The little slut wanted it and said so. When her mother came down the path, the girlie turned into a maniac and started screaming. That’s it. Get me out of here and untie my hands. I can’t stand bein’ trussed up like this. If I ever get my hands on that little harlot, I’ll make her never forget this.”
Wake summoned all of his strength and turned away from the man. Sommer came running up and said that a dory was being brought up now to take the bosun to the ship and that Burns had gone in the dinghy to bring Durlon and other crew to assist. The crowd had divided, the women going to the home of the victim and the men standing on the beach watching the naval officer and his seamen. Wake could almost hear the calculations going on in some of their minds about whether they should, or could, take the prisoner by force and deal justice out right there. When Durlon jumped out of the dinghy with more men and the dory arrived from down the beach, all hands quickly turned to manhandling the still-resisting bosun into the dory.
On the row out to the sloop, Wake leaned over to Durlon and told him that at all times until they got to the Gem of the Sea, one of the two of them would be guarding Hardin from escape. Durlon nodded his understanding and glared at the bosun writhing on the floorboards of the dory. When they reached Rosalie, Hardin was fairly thrown up onto the deck, where Wake himself lashed him to the samson post on the foredeck. Wake took the first watch over the prisoner as the crew weighed anchor and set sail out of the anchorage in the gentle wind and the starlight, bound for the Gem of the Sea with their disgusting cargo.
When they at last reached the anchored Gem of the Sea and came alongside to raft up, Wake could see her captain on the quarterdeck looking concerned. An arrival at this time of night must mean an engagement with the Confederates, but Baxter had not heard any gunfire.
Instead he saw the bosun, trussed up like a pig to the slaughter, and a very quiet crew that ignored questions from the sailors on the larger ship. Baxter was looking very concerned indeed when Wake came aft to him and said in a low voice, “I had to come back now, my friend, because it seems my bosun has attempted to rape a young girl on Useppa during a dinner ashore there tonight. The whole island is angry, and I need to keep him in irons here. I have no irons aboard Rosalie and could not effectively guard against his escape. I want him in the Fort Taylor cells as soon as possible.”
“I see, Peter. Well, perhaps we shall take him with us when we go in the next few days. I will need statements from all involved, of course. This is a serious offense and just may require a board of officers at the squadron.”
“We could take him ourselves, but we must remain for the army next week. Besides, on our small vessel there are too many ways for him to cause mischief. Thank you for keeping him. I will get the statements tomorrow if I can moor alongside for the rest of the night and get some rest. This has taken it quite out of me.”
“Certainly. Stay until morn, then get back and repair the relationship with those people as best you can. Hardin will do time in Portsmouth for this, and deserves all of it. Your report will have to explain it all, Peter. Now get some rest.”
This last statement was broken by a howl from the Gem of the Sea’s foredeck where Hardin had been fastened with iron shackles to a ringbolt set in the deck before the foremast. He was kicking wildly at the crowd of sailors gathered around him, screaming the word “harlot” over and over. Baxter told one of his petty officers to “gag that child rapist animal on the deck. He will disturb our sleep with that howling. Should he by some means get out of the irons and try to escape, gun him down!” thereby ending any potential for sympathy among his crew. What little goodwill, if any, Hardin ever had with the sailors of the Gem of the Sea ended at that moment.
There remained one more thing for Wake to ask. He started formally. “Sir, I must beg to impose even further. This event leaves me more shorthanded than before. Could I take eight of your crew and the ship’s cutter to assist Rosalie in carrying out her orders while you are gone?”
Baxter stood there staring at Wake. Eight men were a tenth of his crew. He shook his head, sighed, and replied, “Yes, I know that you’ll need them. We’ll detail them to you when you return from getting the statements on the island and submit your report of this incident. I will need the statements and report done by tomorrow night, so as to be free to leave whenever the wind serves.”
Wake took a deep breath, looking at his friend, and sincerely said, “Aye, aye, sir. Thank you for your help. This has been a nightmare and I don’t know how I will regain the refugees’ confidence. I thought they were going to kill him right there on the beach.”
“Twenty years in the Portsmouth Naval Prison will be worse than any death they could administer, Peter. Let them know his fate, get their statements, write your report, and get them back involved in hatred against the Rebs. That will turn them around. Get some sleep.” Baxter turned to go below to his cabin, leaving Wake to look upon the creature lying alone on the foredeck.
Wake’s return to Rosalie and descent to his own cabin did not lessen the nervousness in his mind. Sleep did not come easily as he went over in his mind what he could have done to prevent the heinous act of his second in command. He might have suspected Hardin of being capable of theft or fighting, but not an attack on a little girl. The memory of the look on Hardin’s face was enough to make Wake cringe. The animal rage and obviously demented mind were frightening. Perhaps he should have let the islanders have their way.
His orderly mind returned to the problems he would face the next day. Working out those problems displaced his fearful memories and finally sleep came. Fear and rage had exhausted him, and Wake slid unexpectedly into slumber as he was working out the time of arrival of the sloop back at the anchorage. That island where he incongruously knew a brief contented peace, with the stars afloat in the sky above, atop a hill with kind refugees who had lost everything, had proven ominous indeed.
The morning afterward, Wake got his sloop under way early, not wanting to be near the thing on the foredeck of the other vessel any longer than necessary. His crew also seemed to want to flee the Gem of the Sea, though returning to the scene of the crime wa
s not where they wanted to go. In the world of sailors, a crime committed against one of them was a crime committed against all of them, against their ship. The reverse was true also, though. Wake knew that “the tale would sail the fleet” and that he and his crew would hear about it for years. Fights would ensue in bars and brothels around the world, whenever his sailors would encounter that story and the narrator would ask if they were of the baby-raping crew of the Rosalie. Guilt by association was not the law of the land, but it was a rule of the seaports of the world. Wake knew that the only way to stop that evil reputation was to replace it with another, more respectful and overwhelming. A victory in war was what they needed now. And they needed the refugees’ help to achieve that. Today would begin that effort, Wake knew.
Just before the daily meridian, Rosalie coasted into the anchorage off the beach and slid her hook into the mud. No crowds waved or came out to her. The settlement appeared almost deserted, with just a few shapes moving in the shade of the trees by the huts. Wake told Durlon to have young Sommer get the dinghy and row him ashore, that he would be back in a little while. Durlon was to stay aboard and not let anyone ashore except Sommer. Looking around the deck at the crew, Wake saw no enthusiasm to go ashore and felt the need to say, “Men, what has happened will be associated with us. We need to gain the confidence of these good people again. It may take awhile, but it will start today, with me. I know you understand and will do what you can.”
The response was a nodded understanding from the men and a terrified look from Sommer, who clearly did not want to go back to the island. Wake descended the side of the sloop and sat in the dinghy, fending off as Sommer got it under way. They slowly made their way to the sparse dock without seeing anyone near the water. Wake told Sommer to stay with the dinghy as he walked ashore and tried to find someone from the settlement.
At the Edge of Honor (The Honor Series) Page 12
