A voice from atop the nearest hill told Wake that he was acknowledged and asked that he wait a moment. This he did until Harley Cornell made his way down the path to the shade of a laurel tree where Wake stood waiting.
After initial polite greetings and another apology about what had happened, Wake explained that he had secured Hardin aboard the Gem of the Sea and had returned to Useppa Island to obtain statements to present at the court martial. He also asked Cornell if there was anything he could do for the girl and her family.
“Captain Wake, the islanders here have been horribly treated by the Rebel regime on the mainland, escaped with very little to their name, been ignored by the government in their time of need, and now attacked by a sailor who is supposed to protect them. They do not want anything to do with you or your crew.”
“Sir, I understand their thoughts, and share them myself concerning Hardin, but I have to do my duty and obtain evidence against this man. The islanders,” Wake avoided the word refugees, for they did not like it, “have sacrificed much for their loyalty to a system of democratic governing that includes our legal system. They must be made to understand that though it is not easy to make the statements, it must be done if we are to maintain our system of proof against those accused.”
“Will they have to go to Key West to testify?” asked Cornell with concern.
“I do not know, but I shall certainly recommend that the court accept the statements in lieu of their travel to Key West,” replied an equally concerned Wake. He did not know. He had never run into this before in his days at sea. He sought to reassure this man who had been initially so gracious and hospitable to him on his arrival at Useppa, less than twenty-four hours earlier. “Mr. Cornell, if I need to, I will personally go to the admiral and explain the reasons for the waiver of personal witness testimony at Key West.”
“Very well, Captain Wake. I know that you cannot guarantee that they will not have to testify. I will do my best to persuade them to assist you. You have been a gentleman throughout this ghastly affair.”
“Thank you, sir. I will wait here with my writing instruments until you deem it appropriate. The sooner we get those statements, sir, the sooner I can send Hardin to Key West.”
Cornell nodded and then walked along the beach to a hut at the northern end of the settlement. Wake watched him go, wondering if that was the abode of the victim and her family, and then returned to Sommer and the dinghy to get his paper, ink, and pens. Sommer questioned his captain with his eyes, not daring to put it into words. Wake advised him that everything was good so far and to remain on the boat.
A few minutes later Cornell met Wake under the tree and bade him to follow as he walked back to the hut. The slow pace, silent guide, and baking heat reminded Wake of a long last march to the gallows. As he looked around him at the huts where the refugees lived and saw heads following him along the path, he remembered the ominous feeling about Useppa Island that he had had before landing here.
Upon entering, Wake was met by the victim’s father, who ignored his offered hand and went outside. The mother was more polite and asked Wake to be seated at a very crude table while she got her daughter. The depressing atmosphere of the wood and palm thatch hut, accentuated by the demeanor of the parents and the daughter when she arrived, made Wake wish he could get through this excruciating duty faster. These people live like savages, Wake thought as he tried to gently ask the pertinent questions and record the girl’s answers.
When he was done with the victim, Wake took a statement from the mother, the first person to see Hardin. She related hearing her daughter scream and then actually seeing a half-naked Hardin a moment later groping and restraining the girl on the beach. Wake paid particular attention to the sequence of events that seemed to invalidate Hardin’s paltry alibi, for the girl’s mother heard the scream even before she reached a position where she could see or be seen. The victim had echoed this information, having not seen her mother until after screaming.
Wake, not a lawyer or a lawman, thought that all of this was significant and would end any defense of the accused. He next took statements of the fishermen who apprehended Hardin, asking them to tell their recollections of his demeanor. When it was all done and six statements had been taken, he thanked Cornell again for his help. Cornell, who had stood by during all of the statements, acknowledged that this duty had to be carried out correctly and that Wake had done so.
And so, four hours after he had started taking the statements, Wake made his weary way back to the dock where Sommer waited. He turned to Cornell and explained that he had to get statements from his crew as well, and then he would send the perpetrator of this tragedy on his way in irons to the gaol in Key West. Before he shoved off in the dinghy, he turned to the island leader and quietly advised, “Mr. Cornell, this senseless crime doesn’t stop the war, or the Rebels’ wishes to eliminate this settlement. We are going to have to proceed with the preparations for your men to arm themselves and take action against the Rebs.”
“I know. Some of these men were in the Rebel army, against their wishes, of course. Others fought the Indians here in the fifties. They know how to fight, and they will do well when the time comes. I think that the sooner your soldiers come to get them started, the better. We need to put this behind us.”
“Aye aye, sir. We’ll get them started soon.” As Wake turned to tell Sommer to shove off, he heard Cornell say to him, “I hope the soldiers are better behaved, Wake. Our men will kill the next one who tries anything like that,” and Cornell walked away slowly down the dock, leaving Wake staring at the man and the island, as little Sommer rowed him back to his ship.
Feeling the need to get away from the island, and its people and memories, Wake sailed the sloop out of the anchorage just before sunset. The departing sun was not putting on a show this time. High, thin clouds obscured the sun as it made its way down in a gauzy, gray sky. The only colors were the shades of the gray clouds, darker near the horizon. It was as if the sky were preventing the sun from seeing the island or its malignancy. An all-around gloomy day and evening did nothing to improve Wake’s morale as he took statements from the crew on their involvement in the mess with Hardin.
None of them admitted being with Hardin when he approached the girl on the beach, but Sommer did state that he had seen Hardin “looking at her hard” during the dinner. All of them appeared genuinely shocked that he would do something like that, since they had seen nothing similar during other liberties ashore with him. Durlon told his captain later in the evening that he had always thought Hardin an odd character who was a bit rough with the bar girls in Key West, but had never seen him “pick on a nice girl before.”
As the Rosalie crept along in the light air, all of the events of the previous twenty-four hours caught up with Wake. His head ached with shame and tension, and he felt that he had somehow failed in an endeavor of peaceful social interaction the night before, a failure that had cost a girl her innocence. He had failed to control the men under his command, failed in his responsibility. He fell asleep on the deck at the stern, wishing that this newest nightmare, for which he was totally unprepared, would have gone away when he woke up.
In the middle of the night Rosalie moored alongside her old friend, Gem of the Sea. This time there was no meeting of the crews, no exchange of information, just a silent handling of the mooring lines while the off-watch men of the Rosalie fell exhausted into their hammocks, after looking to make sure that the monster that used to be their mate was still securely bolted to the other vessel’s deck. These men, who had feared Hardin as a bully even before his hateful crime, had now taken the voluntary step of testifying against him and feared how he might retaliate should he be somehow set free.
The crew of the larger vessel were also wary of the man chained to their foredeck. It was as if his mere presence provided a reminder that some
among them might erupt as this one did, suddenly and without reason. The men of the Gem of the Sea were also angry that they should have to guard and handle this deviant for the crew of another vessel. Recollection of Hardin’s less-than-thoughtful words and deeds in their presence after the Peace River battle several weeks prior, along with Bosun Mate Moore’s remembrances of Hardin liberty stories that now came out in loud and detailed form, prompted the Gem crew to look upon the crew of the Rosalie with far less amity than before. It was if the men of the Rosalie had dumped some particularly foul-smelling refuse upon their holystoned deck and left it there out of malice.
The next morning at sunup, Baxter and Wake again met in the former’s cabin and talked over the situation. Baxter informed Wake that he had decided the situation was such that it was necessary to leave that day for Key West and that no operations were to be done until his return, which might be in a week, depending upon Admiral Barkley. Baxter would pass along the report of Wake, which included the statements and his request for a waiver of requiring the victim and witnesses in Key West, and also pass along his own assessment of the situation of the refugees on the coast. When Wake related that Commander Johnson had once told him to be wary of Hardin after the affair with the Betsy, Baxter replied that Johnson may well have known something more than he had let on about Hardin. Neither Baxter nor Wake knew much of anything of Hardin’s background, and Baxter vowed to find out what he could for his friend.
An hour later Baxter and his ship were sailing southwest out of the Boca Grande Passage, having left a boat and extra men for Wake as per their agreement the night Wake brought Baxter his new prisoner. The prisoner, still fastened as a part of the ship, made a final long and inhuman scream at the Rosalie from about half a mile away. All hands looked at Wake as the shriek assaulted them. Wake just stared at the diminishing form of the other ship. He then turned away from the sight and sound of his nightmare and set the men to working on the never-ending list of chores that their floating home required. He told Durlon to steer a course along the islands to the northward, in the direction away from their shame. They, and the small boat following under sail, coasted the islands’ beaches in the Gulf of Mexico, with a sea breeze to clean their memories and a bright, hot sun to burn away the guilt in their souls.
***
A week later they were sailing along the inside passage by the island of Palmetto, having just left Useppa Island, where they had checked on the well-being of the refugees and for any intelligence of what the enemy was up to on the coast. Wake was the only one of the Rosalie to go ashore, and he met with Cornell again. The island leader told him that the girl and her family were getting back to as normal a life as they could as refugees on the island. Feelings were still tense though, as Wake could see by the looks he got from the other islanders. They no longer stayed out of sight when the sloop arrived, and some were polite to him, but most were cold to him and did not speak as he walked among them. Wake even went up to the father of the girl and asked how the family was doing and if there was anything he could do to help them. The man replied with a simple “no” and walked away.
Wake felt there was nothing he could do further and told Cornell as much. The older man said that the island men needed to feel that they were doing something. They felt helpless just sitting on the island. They were getting restless. Time was running short for patience to hold. Even getting information for the navy or guiding their ships along the coast was not enough for these men to feel that they were helping the country for which they had lost almost everything.
Wake’s remonstrations that the navy and the army were preparing to get them fighting were met by Cornell’s hand-wavings. “No more talking,” muttered the man, who was old enough to be Wake’s father.
Wake and Rosalie left shortly thereafter and began looking for a flatboat that the islanders said they had seen among the islands. They didn’t know the men aboard her and thought she might be a Reb craft sent to spy on the refugee communities among the islands.
With Rosalie sailing southward through the small islands in the middle of the large bay, and the ship’s boat sailing southward along the shallow coast of Pine Island that formed the eastern side of the bay, Wake felt that he had a relatively good chance of seeing the flatboat if it was being poled along in the open. He intensely wanted to do something positive for the islanders and show them a small victory. The crew understood and were intently searching the islands and coves for the suspicious vessel.
Off Chino Island, ten miles south of Palmetto Island, young Sommer heard a gun fire. It was the agreed signal between Rosalie and the ship’s boat for the first vessel to find the flatboat. The ship’s boat was a speck off York Island, to their southeast, which suddenly turned into a large tan butterfly as she tacked through the wind, spreading her old dirty sails as she came about and then disappeared around the corner of the island. Wake told Durlon on the helm to steer for her, and they set all the sail the Rosey could carry. With a broad reach and even the main topsail pulling, Rosalie went sliding through the waves toward whatever was happening on the other side of the island.
They heard more gunfire as they approached the island at full speed, centerboard hauled up to allow them to race over the shoals as the sailors speculated on what might be happening out of their sight. Wake ordered them to go to battle quarters and get ready. As Wake took the helm himself and Durlon ran his gun crew through the drill of loading the twelve-pounder, Conner turned out the muskets and cutlasses. Just as Wake was receiving his two loaded pistols, Lamar yelled out from the bowsprit that he saw the ship’s boat around the point and that they were run up on shore next to a flatboat. As they came around the corner of York Island, they saw a group of sailors by the mangroves surrounding four men who were holding their hands up in the air. Wake could see that the action was over as a sailor waved to the approaching sloop. He told the crew to stand down from quarters and douse the sails, no easy feat to do quickly. Rosalie came around up into the wind and lost her way amidst a thundering cacophony of sails luffing, men swearing, chain rattling out, and Sommer getting the dinghy ready to row his captain to the beach.
Upon Wake’s arrival on the tiny beach carved by the sea out of the mangrove jungle shoreline of the island, he was met by Moore, the bosun’s mate from the Gem of the Sea, who had command of the ship’s boat.
“We got ’em, sir. Just started to talk to ’em. They tried to get into the trees here but we jus’ ran the ol’ darlin’ ashore and went after ’em, quick as you please. Couple a shot stopped ’em in their tracks.”
“What do you know of them and the boat?” asked Wake.
“They’re not sayin’ much, sir. ’Cept they’re refugees who are runnin’ from the Rebs and headin’ to Key West, if ya can believe that, sir.” The tone of his voice told what Moore thought of that story.
Wake decided to speak directly to the men and had them brought to him one by one. The first was named Thomas Jones, a young man who certainly looked the part of the refugee as his clothes were old and threadbare. But his demeanor was not that of the other refugees Wake had met. He was too enthusiastic about his loyalty. Most refugees were just plain tired and didn’t have to show their loyalty—it came out in quiet narrations of their escapes and in the faraway look in their eyes. Jones quickly said he was a store clerk from Tampa, where he was scheduled to report for duty with the Rebel army but had fled to the wild country to the south instead, thinking that no one would find him there. There he met up with the others in the group at Punta Gorda, where they had a boat and invited him along. He immediately asked about how to join the Federal Army in Key West and was told by Wake that he could ask that when he got there. Jones was the kind of man who transferred his nervousness to others around him. Wake felt very uncomfortable.
The second man, a John Nelson, was an older man of maybe forty-five years, who had the strong look and calm
demeanor of a fisherman. He quietly told Wake that they had all decided to go to Key West to join up for the Union side since the war had disrupted their livings and they couldn’t fish or do their work anymore. He was from the area of Sarasota Bay and had made it overland from Fort Meade in the interior to the Peace River, where they had stolen a flatboat from the Rebs and gone down the river and along the coast. Wake knew he was lying from the first—didn’t know how he knew but just sensed the story was wrong. Nelson had eyes that looked through you, not in an aggressive way, but in a passive stare that patiently waited for your response. Wake could almost see a smile in the eyes, as if they didn’t believe the story either but were required by loyalty to act out the part.
The third man was also dressed in old clothes, had about thirty years to his credit and a badly healed scar on his left forearm. He called himself Roger Huntington of Hamilton County, in upper Florida, and he said he was released from the Nineteenth Florida Infantry Regiment after being wounded in Virginia six months earlier. He further related, in a voice that revealed some education, that he was tired of the whole affair and was ready to take the oath and fight for the blue. He said that he could read and write, was a sergeant before and wanted to be again. He had joined with Nelson up the Peace River and come down on the flatboat. His entire air was incongruous with the others. He was too calm, too quiet. The only emotion he showed was a constant sliding of his eyes toward the others in what looked to be an effort to communicate to them that everything was under control in the situation that they had found themselves.
At the Edge of Honor (The Honor Series) Page 13
