The last one was a skinny boy of seventeen. The fear on his face was obvious. He gave a name of Oliver Dade, said he was from Punta Gorda and was running away from the Rebels there because he didn’t want to die for them. Said he would take his chances in Key West with the Federal Army and that his mother, who lived alone, had agreed with his plan to leave the Rebel area and go for a new life. He explained that the situation among the few families at Punta Gorda had gotten worse since the navy had destroyed or captured most of the boats they had been using for fishing, and that many of them were moving into the interior to farm there.
Each of them said they thought the sailors in the boat were Confederates enforcing the conscript laws, and that was the reason for their flight. This sentence was the one constant detail in their stories. Pointing out the fact that the sailors wore Federal Navy uniforms and were flying an American flag brought no reply from the now-sullen suspects. Moore turned to Wake and said with an expectant air, “Well, what do we do with ’em, sir? Right off to Key West for the Fort Taylor cells?”
When Wake heard the phrase “Fort Taylor cells,” the thought of Hardin and Useppa came into his mind. Instantly what was missing in the story of the prisoners came to him. Useppa! None of them had mentioned the island. Everyone on the coast knew there were refugees there. But these men didn’t even mention the island where they could have been safe—or any other island in the area where refugees had set up camps. They had not stopped at Useppa even though they would have had to go close by on their way to York Island, where they were captured. Wake now realized that there was even more to the story than he suspected. He looked at Moore and managed to confuse the stalwart by ordering, “Moore, secure these prisoners and put two aboard the sloop and two on your boat. We will take them to Useppa Island immediately. Now, let’s look at the flatboat.”
The professed refugees were tied up with line and put aboard the two vessels while Wake and Moore examined the flatboat. It was a common type on the rivers of the coast that usually carried around a half a ton of goods and bales, with a crew of two or three, and propelled by poles and sweep oars. This one had no cargo and no items belonging to the men just seized. In fact, there was nothing on it. There was no way it could have gone to sea and made it to Key West. Wake wondered where the real destination might have been.
“Woulda gotten a bit hungry by tomorrow, I’d bet,” offered Moore, who was starting to warm to the idea of finding out more about their prisoners.
“They tossed over their belongings at some point. I am curious about how long they have been refugees. I wonder if these men are some of those who go back and forth as refugees and Rebels. We need to find out more on them. Burn the flatboat and we’ll get going while there is a good breeze.” With that directive, Wake walked out into the water to his dinghy and told Sommer to pull for the ship.
On the sail back up the long sound between Pine Island and Captiva Island, the two vessels passed the open passage to the Gulf at Captiva Pass. As they sailed fast on the sea breeze up the inside passage through the islands, Durlon informed Wake that he saw the Gem of the Sea offshore of the pass, heading for Boca Grande. Wake nodded at the news, knowing that the information they’d hear from the senior ship would probably not be good. He and Durlon looked at each other and both men quietly sighed. Time would tell on that issue.
It was nightfall when they arrived off Useppa Island anchorage. Wake was rowed into the dock as the two vessels moored together at anchor off the beach. Cornell met him at the beach and inquired as to the nature of the visit. His manner was polite, but Wake noted an air of impatience about the man.
Wake explained about the capture of the men and that they said they were refugees. He described them and told Cornell their names. Cornell looked at Wake with a long gaze, saying nothing. Then he said that he believed that they were probably lying, and that he and some of the other island men would go and look at them to see if they could recognize them.
Accordingly, about half an hour later a dory put off from the beach and came alongside the sloop. Wake met Cornell and two other men from the island on deck when they climbed aboard. The suspected Rebs were brought in front of them on the main deck and put in a row. There was no interaction between the islanders and the prisoners, but Wake sensed fear building in the captured men. When they were led away, Cornell spoke to Wake. “Captain Wake, you were right about them being Rebels. The boy we don’t know, but we recognize the others. They ran cattle for the Rebel regime in the interior at Fort Meade.”
Cornell continued, “Jones is really named Hartford and was in the militia at Tampa. He’s in charge of enforcing conscription on this coast and is hated by most people in the area. Sort of a tax collector too. Throws his weight around with the simple folk up in those parts. Big man in his own mind.
“Huntington was with the Confederate Army and wounded awhile ago. We ran into him in Tampa telling all about his exploits with Lee up in Virginia, and that was a year ago. Last we heard, he had got some manner of waiver from regular army duty and was running cattle north into Georgia to the army. Occasionally he came down here looking for draft dodgers avoiding the Rebel conscription. Probably helping out Jones in that.
“That man Nelson has been ‘sesesh’ since it all started. He was one of the ones who was workin’ the blockade runners out of Peace River. Surprised ya didn’t see ’im durin’ your fight. Musta got away.” This last was accompanied by nods from the other two islanders, one of whom related that he had heard Nelson sailed to Key West periodically to make contact with the “sesesh” people there.
Cornell concluded, “The boy is not from Punta Gorda. There are only a few people there, and he is not from one of their families or James here,” nodding in the direction of an older islander, “would have known him. He must be a new one that’s come into the area. They’re all liars and sesesh Rebels, Wake. Get ’em out of here, if you would please.”
“Thank you for your help, gentlemen. We suspected that they were not what they were alleging to be. They will be sent to Key West as prisoners. I appreciate your assistance. If they were not heading to Key West on that little flatboat, I wonder where they were going in it?”
Cornell replied for the islanders, “Most likely Fort Myers or Punta Rassa. Hook up with the cattle and blockade runnin’ people there. Maybe get a ride somewhere from there.”
“Well, thank you again, gentlemen. When we can, we shall certainly check those areas again for Rebel craft. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Supplies may be here soon from Key West, and we can share some with Useppa.”
Wake’s last statement was met with indifference by the islanders, and they turned to get into their boat with no further word. As Cornell got into his position at the stern of the dory, he looked up at Wake and remarked, “I expect that we will have some word from Key West regarding recent events and our requests. One of our men spotted the Gem of the Sea coming to anchor at Boca Grande about an hour ago.” His eyes surveyed Wake.
Wake, impressed one more time by the quiet but effective leader of the islanders and how much he knew, shrugged his shoulders and replied that he was sure that there would be some update on the various matters of importance in which they were interested. Wake bade the men goodbye and turned to Moore, who was standing with Durlon, watching and listening to the entire episode.
“Moore, get the prisoners into your boat and take them to Boca Grande right away. Give Lieutenant Baxter my respects and advise him that Rosalie will be over to him in the morning. You may give a verbal report of the events of this day. I will give him a written report. You did very well today, Moore.”
Moore, usually reserved around officers, allowed himself a grin and replied that he would include in his report the fact that Wake had been smart enough to think of Useppa Island and have the men there look at the prisoners. He shook han
ds with Wake as he went aboard his boat, an unheard-of gesture for the man, and offered, “Good workin’ with ya, sir. Hope to again. ”
For the first time since the evening of the nightmare actions of Hardin, Wake felt positive about something. He felt that he had accomplished something tangible, that he had gotten some solid intelligence of the enemy, and that another veteran seaman had recognized his small victory. Something had gone right. He allowed himself a brief smile.
But as he lay on his bunk later that night after writing out his report of the actions of the day, he wondered what information Baxter would have for him from Key West. Trial. Embarrassment. Facing the Admiral and Commander Johnson about how he had undermined the grand plan to form offensive refugee army units by alienating those very people he was supposed to encourage. He cringed as he thought of how the news of Hardin’s crime would have been received by both the navy and the army commanders in Key West. Admiral Barkley and General Woodbury had together put the plan forward in a demonstration of joint resolve.
And what of the promised army reinforcements and planned offensive action on this coast? He had stayed in the islands, with the boat from the Gem of the Sea, to be ready for their arrival. But days had come and gone and there was no ship carrying the soldiers and munitions needed. Wake knew by now the delicate state of affairs among many of the refugee camps and settlements along the coast. He had met men who were Rebels one day and loyal refugees the next. He had even seen the opposite happen, where refugees who had fled the Confederate regime on the mainland had returned when they could not make it work out in the islands. Some said that those people were Rebel spies from the beginning, sent to spy on the naval and refugee activities along the coast. But Wake knew that sometimes old enemies and failed crops or fishing adventures left the refugees no choice but to go back to the place and work that they knew. Like so many things in this awful war, there were no simple explanations. He hoped the soldiers and supplies would come soon, for it looked like Cornell could not keep his people together much longer, and Wake was wary of making any more promises about the future.
Wake felt that he was really onto something with the men captured at York Island. He just did not know what. But he did know that somehow, with or without reinforcements, he was going to have to explore that area in more detail, to try to uncover the answer to the riddle of why some relatively important men of the Rebel regime in this coast were in such a desolate area. Who were they meeting? For what purpose?
The gentle night at anchor did not allay his fears and help him sleep. Instead, the lack of any wind or waves, to make a distraction of noise or motion, allowed his mind to concentrate on his multifaceted predicament. Wake was finding his dilemma becoming more complicated by the day, and worse yet, he didn’t know what to do about it since he was at the mercy of other factors that influenced his mission and his life. As he lay below on his bunk in his tiny box of a cabin, his mind floated images of Linda and he realized that his desire to be with her was increasing to an almost desperate need. She was his mental escape from the squalid life and hopeless assignment in which he found himself.
***
By noon the next day Useppa Island was behind them and the Rosalie was once again moored alongside her big sister, the Gem of the Sea. Baxter had a pensive look on his face as he led Wake aft to his cabin.
After the preliminary politeness, during which Wake could barely restrain himself from blurting out the burning question in his mind, Baxter came to the point.
“Peter, concerning Hardin. He never made it to Fort Taylor. He acted the part of a rabid dog the whole way to Key West. I thought it just a role for his trial, but then I found out it was real. As we were moving up the channel to the naval anchorage, he was released from the deck eyebolt to get him washed up before we turned him over to the army provost guard. Right then, like he had been waiting for the moment, still in his manacles and chain, he pushed his guard away and ran screaming like a banshee to the side by the stowed anchor and jumped overboard. By the time we got stopped and turned around he was down on the bottom in four fathoms. Never found him.
“None of the crew had any remorse, ’cause by that time they had had enough of his wild ravings and such. During the trip down the coast he was yelling and having such seizures that I have never seen. Like something inside him was giving him a fever and eating his guts and brain, making him twist and scream and beg. My carpenter’s mate wondered if he’d had the ‘syph’ and it had touched his brain. You know how they go when they have that little gift. . . .”
Wake sat there stunned. Hardin was dead. Suicide by drowning. A raving sick maniac. The transformation of the man that night on the beach at Useppa Island had been so complete and shocking that Wake had wondered if he had really understood what it was he was seeing. Perhaps, he had thought at the time, he was misunderstanding Hardin and that his behavior had some explanation. Horrible, but somehow explainable. The thought of syphilis had entered his mind, but until now he had heard no one else offer it.
Baxter went further. “So when I finally got to the anchorage and went ashore to explain this all to the admiral, Commander Johnson said that he had heard something about Hardin that was a little odd.
“Johnson calls right away for the squadron surgeon, same one that worked on your head wound if I remember rightly, Morse is his name, and asks him about Hardin while I’m standing there. This Morse says that yes, Hardin was the one who went to a Negro healer woman on the outside of town, where those Bahamian people are, to treat him for an indelicate social disease. Never reported it to the naval surgeons, ’cause they would’ve put him on report. Had one of those old women treat him, God knows how, for his disease. Surgeon heard about those goings on with the sailors from the scuttlebutt and looked into it. Told the old lady to stay away from his sailors, tend to her own people.”
Wake alerted to the fact that Johnson had heard of Hardin from the surgeon. As nonchalantly as he could, he inquired, “When did Johnson know about this? Did he say?”
“Before you sailed, Peter. Don’t know why he or the surgeon didn’t tell you. Anyway, the admiral, who was also standing there for all of this, accepted my reports on the actions of Hardin and told me that it was over, thank God.”
As Wake was digesting all of this information, Baxter excitedly proceeded. “Forget Hardin. I’ve news of the war that’s important. Those orders you passed on to me are finally coming true. The steamer Honduras is coming up coast with a detachment of the Forty-seventh Pennsylvania from Fort Taylor. Should be here tomorrow. They are to go to Useppa Island and train those islanders to be soldiers. Going to form a new army regiment from the refugees around here and in Key West. That should be interesting! Both the admiral and the general at the fort are in on this. Seems a big push is in the wind. So get ready.”
Without realizing it, Wake began to touch his scar, tracing the rough outline of the manifestation of his last encounter with Rebel bullets. Baxter, seeing this, joked that Wake had used up one chance and had better be more careful in the future.
“And I hope you have gotten the islanders around here back on our side, because Admiral Barkley still wanted you to be the liaison with the army. You are to handle any boat transportation in the islands that they need inshore here at this coast. He told me that it was a great opportunity for a young man. I am to give you any men or boats you need, and gun support if I can reach the location with my draft.”
Wake just sat there and finally said, “Aye aye, sir,” to this unforeseen confirmation of Admiral Barkley’s support in spite of the Hardin affair. He took a hurried gulp of the water Baxter had given him and started to stand. “By your leave, sir. I should get back to Rosalie and sail to Useppa. The wind will serve at the present. I need to meet with those men again before the army troops arrive. Thank you for your hospitality and the intelligence from Key West.” Baxt
er stood up, signifying the personal chat was over.
“Mr. Wake, one other thing. Commander Johnson sent out with us a replacement for Hardin. This one I know. Bit of a drunk and a problem. Name is Sean Rork, an Irishman from New York. Been in for about five years. I think he was merchant marine before on an Atlantic packet. He’s been transferred from the Dale. Be careful.”
“Personally sent by the commander, you say, sir?”
Baxter nodded and shrugged his shoulders slightly as he led them both up to the main deck, where Wake took his leave. When he got to the deck of his own ship, he was greeted by Durlon, who told him the new bosun was at the stern waiting to report into him, having crossed over from the Gem of the Sea.
The man Wake fixed his eyes on bore a superficial resemblance to Hardin. Both were stocky and ruddy-faced. Both were about mid-thirties. Both were keenly aware of their surroundings, as evidenced by the way Rork watched the men at work transferring supplies between the ships. But there was something about Rork that was different from Hardin. Wake couldn’t put his finger on it yet, but he hoped that the man would turn out well. He could surely use someone he could trust completely. That would be a relationship he had never had with Hardin, who from the beginning had shown his disgust toward Wake in subtle yet real ways that were just short of naval insubordination. At any rate, the man could hardly be worse than Hardin.
At the Edge of Honor (The Honor Series) Page 14
