As Wake approached the new bosun he saw the man stiffen and knuckle his salute. “Sean Rork, bosun’s mate, reportin’ in, sir,” came the brogued voice. His face assumed the neutral aspect of the veteran seaman when addressing an officer, but his eyes contained a spark of life that Hardin’s had not. I will try to salvage this man, thought Wake, as he bade the bosun below to his cabin for a chat.
Once in the hot cabin, they seated themselves on the bunk and the small sea chest. Wake began by asking Rork to relate his sea service. The man had started out as a boy seaman in Wexford, Ireland, on an Irish Sea packet boat from Dublin and Belfast to Liverpool. That was followed by service aboard an Atlantic packet ship between New York and Liverpool. In the late ’50s, he had joined the navy in order to become an American citizen, serving in the Mediterranean Squadron just before this war had broken out. Rising quickly to petty officer rank in the rapidly expanding navy, Rork had become a bosun of a naval schooner off South Carolina, but had then had a problem with a fight ashore at Port Royal with some soldiers who had “demeaned” him.
Rork had been transferred to the Dale in Key West and had sat on that ship in the harbor rotting away for a year. He said that he had hated it and was glad to get to sea on “a real sailin’ boat that fights them Rebs ashore an’ afloat,” adding that he had had some trouble ashore in Key West with the “impolite-mannered folk” in one of the taverns. His brogue thickened a bit when he spoke of his troubles ashore, but he spoke without malice.
Wake thanked him for his recital and told Rork about Hardin, which resulted in an understanding nod from the bosun. He fixed his eyes on Rork and said quietly and seriously that he would tolerate no conduct that would bring disrepute upon the ship or himself. After Rork had agreed, Wake told a bit of his own history. They had been talking half an hour when Durlon called down and said the ship was loaded and stowed and ready to get under sail.
Wake and Rork went up the ladder to the deck just as Durlon gave the orders for casting off from the larger ship and setting the large mainsail. As he watched Rork get involved with Durlon in the evolutions for making sail, Wake thought that maybe, just maybe, Rork might work out. As with everything else, time would tell.
The wind served well for the sail to Useppa Island, and they made their arrival in only three hours. Rounding up into the westerly wind, Rosalie shook her sails down and the hook slid into the jade-colored anchorage in the lee of the large hill along the beach settlement. Sommer had the dinghy ready by the time Wake had come back up from below with the mail for the island from Key West. As he was rowed ashore, Wake spotted Cornell watching him from the stand of trees by the hut that served as his house. He noticed that the island leader did not come down to the dock to greet him but instead waited for Wake to come into the shade beneath the trees.
After politely greeting Cornell and handing over the twined stack of envelopes, Wake explained that he had information on the man Hardin. Cornell bade him to wait while he went into his home and gave his wife the mail to distribute, which she then proceeded to accomplish by a shout that seemed loud enough to reach all over the island. When the ensuing response from the islanders had calmed a bit, Cornell returned to the spot under the trees and asked what it was that Wake had to say about Hardin. Cornell projected impatience as well as resignation in dealing with an unpleasant subject from a man he would rather not deal with. Wake thought again how the demeanor of the islanders had changed so drastically after Hardin’s crime, and how hard it would be to get their support again for mutual gain in the war against the Rebels.
As Wake delivered the facts surrounding the end of Hardin and the elimination of the problem of a trial, he could see Cornell nodding his head in approval at the outcome of the nightmare that had occurred on this very beach only a few feet away. Cornell said they should tell the victim’s father right away. Wake agreed but first told him about the unit of the Forty-seventh Pennsylvania Infantry that was due to arrive the next day. Cornell left to tell the girl’s father of Hardin’s end and to call an immediate meeting of all the islanders to give them the news of the army’s impending appearance on their island.
As he stood by Cornell at the islanders’ gathering half an hour later, Wake was encouraged to see some smiles among the group. The men were standing taller and more confident, and the women seemed more animated than the last time he had seen them. Action was finally giving some meaning to their lives, Wake decided, as he also wondered which of the people standing there would be killed or wounded in the months to come.
Shaking off that morbid thought, he moved forward to speak when Cornell had finished. The crowd of refugees grew quiet as he began. “I want to say again how very sorry I and all of my crew are about what happened here. That man is dead and gone and will never pose a threat to anyone again. Please do not judge my men by what he did. They are good men, fighting a war far from their homes in a place foreign to them. We will help you all that we can and will help the soldiers all we can. All we ask is that you not judge us by the actions of that man and let us help you in the fight against the Rebels. All of us admire your loyalty to this country and our flag.”
Silence greeted his ending, and Wake wondered if he had somehow misstated something. He looked into the eyes of the men nearest him and saw no hated or mistrust, however, just a grim acknowledgment of a job to be done and an acceptance of him as a partner in the effort. Several people were turning away to return to their activities when the father of Hardin’s victim came up to Wake and shook his hand, quietly announcing, “As far as I am thinkin’, that’s over now. It twarn’t your fault, and we all appreciate your help.”
“Thank you, sir,” Wake said, his heart and mind racing with relief, as a couple more men came up to him and shook his hand, most saying nothing but looking him in the eye and nodding their heads almost imperceptibly.
Wake felt a strong respect and appreciation for these people who had been through so much and who still had the grace to forgive in such a quiet and meaningful manner. He and Cornell walked back to the dock together without speaking, relief filling Wake’s mind. When they had reached Sommer at the dinghy, Cornell put out his hand and told Wake that he thought “events might transpire more smoothly now.”
As the young captain climbed up the side to the deck of his sloop, he saw the crew looking over to the island and followed their gaze. On the beach were several islanders waving to them, and they could hear some light-hearted voices from the island drift over the water. The sailors grinned as they waved back.
How strange, thought Wake, that the death of a crazed man and the probable impending death of many good men should bring a sense of joy back to people who had known little of it ever since this war had so changed their lives. Perhaps it was the influence of this tropical island, its hot and humid atmosphere pervading and distorting every sense. Perhaps it wasn’t joy at all, thought Wake as he gazed out over the darkening water to the community by the beach, but a silent and steady envelopment of them all into a sense of complacent delusion.
Wake leaned his arm against the boom just above his head and shuddered as a chill went down his spine. He feared this island of refuge would soon be a field of war.
7
Revenge from Useppa
It was midmorning when Wake, writing in his cabin, heard the distant conch shell sound from Palmetto Island to the west. It was answered a moment later by a similar sound from Useppa Island and followed by another from Patricio Island. Rork put his head down the hatchway and informed his captain that the islanders had called over to the sloop that they had sighted the steamer carrying the soldiers coming along the coast and that she was probably nearing Boca Grande and the Gem of the Sea. A boat was approaching from the beach with Cornell in the bow. Wake thanked Rork for his report and thought about how the man was integrating into the crew. So far, Rork had been no problem. Indeed
, he had been a generally positive influence on the behavior of the crew.
Wake ascended from his cabin and stood by the main shrouds to receive the delegation from the island. Cornell stepped up to the deck of the sloop without hesitation and turned to Wake in a formal, businesslike manner that was rare for the man.
“Captain Wake, the island leaders would like the honor of your presence tonight for dinner to complement the presence of the officers from the steamer and the army. Would you so honor us? I believe there will be much to speak of in preparation for our regiment’s near future.”
Wake, taken aback by the mention of the new refugee militia unit with the rather grandiose title of regiment, stammered, “Yes, of course, sir. It is I who will be honored.”
“Excellent then. We shall expect you at six o’clock. We will be meeting with the army officers at that time on the island and would like your perspective included in the discussion. Dinner will follow.”
Cornell’s demeanor was positively commanding, thought Wake with a twinge of humor. Then he wondered how in the world the island leader could know when to expect the army officers on a ship that hadn’t arrived at the island yet. The question must have formed on his face, for Cornell softened his tone and said, “We spoke with the ship when she was off Captiva Island. She’ll be here by midafternoon. She’s at Boca Grande now with Lieutenant Baxter.”
For the hundredth time Wake marveled at the organization of the islanders and said so to Cornell, who smiled his response and handed over a filled burlap bag that another man had slung up to him from the dory.
“Here, this is for your crew. Some fresh fish caught this morning and already cut for your men to cook. We will also be sending some fruit over in a bit.”
After Rork took the bag of fish and the crewmen standing close by expressed their thanks, Wake shook Cornell’s hand and thanked him for the kindness. After Cornell left, Wake found himself wondering just who was in command of whom—appreciating the older man’s quiet way of leadership that left room for another’s pride. Wake figured Cornell would probably do well as a militia leader, and God help the Rebs if this group of refugees-turned-soldiers should fall on them with the passion of two years of wrongs to right.
The afternoon had a nice breeze and was discernibly cooler than the day before, a sign that the oppressively hot rainy season was giving way to the windier and cooler dry season. The barometer supported this general optimism. And so, when the steamer Honduras rounded the point of land on Patricio Island and came straight for the anchorage where Rosalie sat comfortably pulling at her anchor, a scene from paradise greeted the sailors and soldiers aboard her. Before the steamer even let go her anchor, the dories of the islanders were clustered around her. The islanders came, as they had for Wake many weeks earlier, from all the islands close by with gestures of welcome.
The steamer’s crew and passengers lined the railings, exchanging with the islanders news of the world as wells as pocket knives and tools and utensils—for fish and fruits from the islanders. Rork stood on the deck of the small sloop, a third the length of the steamer, and shook his head in bemusement at the scene unfolding two hundred feet away. Wake walked over to him by the samson post on the foredeck.
“It would seem our allies have arrived, Rork. The islanders appear pleased with them.”
“Aye, that they have done, sir. And the islanders are actin’ just like islanders the world over too. Somethin’ new is always excitin’ for them, ye know. Reminds me of when I saw me first Yankee ship in Wexford, those many years ago in me soft youth in Eire. Could not a stayed away from that strange ship, with her strange crew of men from the barbarous lands of the New World. ’Twas then that I made me mind to go to America. And so here I am with ye now, Captain,” replied a grinning Rork as he turned full toward Wake.
“Well, we’ll see if the islanders are as happy in six months, Rork. At least the weather has been kind today. For the work we’re bound to do, a little cooler weather will be appreciated, especially by those Pennsylvania soldiers on the Honduras there.”
Wake was referring to the dozen men in the blue wool of the army, standing at the railing and looking around at the jungle islands that were soon to be their home. It was a very far cry from the hills of Pennsylvania, and the Rosalie’s sailors could see them pointing at Useppa Island and gesturing. Wake called away his dinghy and had Sommer row him over to the steamer, which was now completing her anchoring work and blowing off her steam.
On arriving at the side of the ship and climbing up to the main deck, Wake was greeted by the mate of this civilian steamer with a civilian crew chartered to the army for supply and passenger work on the coast. The difference between the crew of the large steamer and that of his small sloop was considerable. As the mate led him aft along the deck toward the captain’s quarters, Wake remembered his days as a merchant marine mate as he surveyed the generally sloppy work done by the steamer’s crew. He realized that his small crew was much more efficient and disciplined than this mob of derelicts. His impression surprised him since just a year before he had been one of this type of seamen and had despised the “puppetry” of naval seamen just as much as he imagined these men in front of him did right now.
An overweight and sweaty man of about fifty, wearing a faded brown jacket and stained grayish duck trousers, greeted him as he entered the captain’s cabin. Standing next to Captain Sloan was an army lieutenant, younger than Wake, thin, pale and obviously nervous. The steamer captain made the introductions. “Lieutenant Vanding, this is Master Peter Wake, captain of the sloop Rosalie, anchored next to us. Master Wake knows these waters and coastline. I think you would be well served to use his knowledge and assistance. Master Wake, Lieutenant Arthur Vanding of the Forty-seventh Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry Regiment, currently occupying Key West.”
“My pleasure, Lieutenant. Welcome to this coast. Everyone has been looking forward to your force arriving and starting the offensive against the Rebels on the mainland. How many did you bring?”
Vanding stared at Wake without speaking, as Sloan filled the silence with barely concealed sarcasm. “Why, Captain Wake, the army has sent you all of twelve men with the good lieutenant here. Appears the grand invasion will be off to a grand start!”
Vanding glared at Sloan. “Captain, I have brought a cadre of regulars and enough equipment to supply one hundred men. More equipment and men will follow. I also have ten volunteers from among the Union civilian men at Key West. How many men do the volunteers have at this place?”
Wake looked at both men. Sloan he had met before in Key West and had not liked any better there. Vanding was an unknown. So far, the promised army reinforcement was not impressive. Wake hoped that the numbers of the “regiment” would increase once it got started and word went out among the refugees along the coast.
“Lieutenant, there are about thirty refugee men in these islands who are prepared to fight for our country. You evidently met some of them earlier today. We are expected on the island at six o’clock for a discussion of the future operations here. I will see you then.”
Wake then turned to Sloan and said that he would have some of his crew assist with unloading the equipage to the island. Wake exited along the main deck amidst a clanging racket coming up from below decks and walked around the large, ungainly paddle boxes dominating both sides amidship. He was glad not to be on this ugly contraption of a vessel. With the unseamanlike hull lines, soot-grimed decks, surly crew, greasy smell, and generally poor condition, she was the very opposite of his pretty little sloop. To hell with her ten knots in no wind, he thought as Sommer pulled him across the rippled jade water to his own ship. As Wake settled back down into his small but private domain, writing his report on the chart table, he couldn’t help worrying about the way this expedition was starting and about how the islanders might greet the paltry reinforceme
nts sent to them.
At six o’clock Wake stood under the gumbo limbo trees on the beach and waited for the contingent from the steamer to arrive. Cornell stood by him, waiting with obvious anticipation for the meeting to get under way. Several other islanders had gathered a short distance away, apparently the secondary leaders of the “regiment” that would be formed, while others readied the table for the impending dinner.
An island dory eventually brought Vanding and Sloan to the rickety dock, from which they walked down the beach to the gathering and the introductions that Wake made all around.
The islanders were polite and hospitable, but Wake could see the surprise on their faces that there was only a lieutenant in charge of the army forces that had been sent to them. Cornell finally asked the question that Wake had dreaded. “Lieutenant Vanding, exactly how many men did you bring on the steamer to reinforce us and fight on the mainland?”
The answer was not what the refugees had expected, and Vanding’s hesitant delivery did not help matters much either. Sloan said nothing, just stood there grinning at the pitiful joke that he saw unfolding before him. Wake couldn’t stand it any longer and, against his better judgment, filled the vacuum of leadership. “Well, it’s a beginning. As more Union men of the coast come to the colors, the regiment will grow. The lieutenant’s men will provide a good training for the men of your regiment, Mr. Cornell.”
Cornell, sensing Wake’s efforts to help and Vanding’s ineptness, agreed with Wake and steered the small group up the path to the dinner tables on the hilltop. Cornell and Wake walked together up the path in silence until the top, when Cornell said to his young friend, “We will make it work, Captain Wake. You are right. It is a beginning and more than we’ve had.”
At the Edge of Honor (The Honor Series) Page 15
