Souls Aflame

by Patricia Hagan

  He gave her a knowing smirk before reaching to open a door to their left. “This is your cabin, I suppose. It ain’t much, but it’s not like you plan on living here.”

  Anxious to move away from such a close encounter, she stepped inside the tiny room and glanced about at the sparse furnishings. There was a wooden chair and a small desk on which sat a bowl and pitcher. The bed, nothing more than a thin mattress upon a board, was held in place along one wall by chains attached at each end. A round window, which she knew was called a porthole, afforded the only view to the outside world.

  Shad, sensing her reaction, leered. “I reckon this just churns the stomach of a fine lady like you, don’t it? Well, it’s better’n what the rest of us got. We sleep on canvas stretchers in a space so crowded and hot the gnats have trouble breathing. I can look at you and tell you’re used to real nice things, like having oils and perfumes rubbed on that lily white skin o’ yours…”

  Abashed, Julie could only stare silently at him as he moved quickly back into the hall to extinguish the overhead lantern, plunging them into darkness. She stepped backwards as she heard his footsteps approaching. For some reason she did not yet understand, she was frightened of this man who had seemed so solicitous at first.

  “We can’t have no lights now,” he was saying. “Maybe you’d be interested in knowing just how we’ll slip through the Federal blockade. You see, this steamer is painted a light lead color. Makes us blend in with the horizon. We got the smoke pipe lowered, and we’re using just a single mast.

  “When we came in,” he continued, “we took precise compass readings of their fleet at sunset. They don’t change positions after dark, so all the captain has to do is steer by compass back out to the open sea.”

  Even though she found what he was saying to be interesting, Julie was filled with a sense of foreboding that made her dizzy. She felt her back pressing against the wall, and the boatswain was so close his warm breath touched her face.

  “If you will excuse yourself, Mr. Harky, I would like to retire.” She tried to keep her voice even, her apprehension hidden.

  “Of course,” he murmured. “You’re scared, though, ain’t you? No need. I’ll look after you.”

  The hinges squeaked as the door opened, then slowly closed with a click. Julie groped her way across the tiny cabin and leaned against it, washed over with relief. At last he was gone. As much as she hated to admit it, she was afraid of him.

  Still feeling her way, she found the bed and sat down. It was silly, her being afraid of the man. He meant her no harm. He probably sensed her uneasiness over the voyage and was only trying to be friendly. Since he was from a different background, it was easy for her to mistake his intentions. That was something she would have to get over.

  It was no wonder, though, that she was unnerved in the face of all that had happened. Everyone in Savannah had panicked when the Yankees moved their squadron of steam-propelled vessels to the entrance of the sound between the two Confederate forts on Hilton Head and Bay Point in early November. They had fired a continuous broadside onslaught, and caused the Rebels to abandon both fortifications. Just a few days later, Port Royal, on the mainland, had fallen. Everyone said that with the Yankees in sight of Cockspur Island, they were making ready to strike at Fort Pulaski.

  All of Savannah went into an uproar, and those who could afford it fled to the interior of the state. People were even wilder with fear when Tybee Island was abandoned.

  Virgil said it was an excellent time for Julie and her mother to leave for England, and he made immediate arrangements for the transport of Rose Hill cotton as well. There was a strong rumor going around that the Yankees were getting ready to move on the eastern part of North Carolina. If they were successful, they would not only gain control of the sounds on the coastal plain, with their important navigable rivers, but they would also control over a third of that state. That would pose a serious threat to the Wilmington and Weldon Railroad, which was the main line running South from Richmond.

  Yes, there was much to be concerned about. Not only the war, but the other, terrible thing…

  “Julie?”

  She sprang to her feet at the sound of her mother’s voice calling from outside.

  “Julie, darling, are you in there?”

  She opened the door, relieved as her mother’s arms found her and they embraced in the darkness.

  “I was so worried. I was escorted to my cabin and told to remain there until further word, and I didn’t know whether or not you had ever come down. Are you all right?”

  She felt her mother’s cool hand touching her brow to push back the strands of dark curls that forever tumbled out of place.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she told her, “but it’s positively eerie being in the darkness like this. Maybe we should sit up together.”

  “Nonsense,” came her mother’s chuckling reply. “You don’t need to be frightened, Julie. Remember what Virgil told us about Captain Arnhardt. He’s one of the best blockade runners there is. We have nothing to fear.”

  She stiffened. “Julie, you’re trembling. What’s happened to unnerve you so? This isn’t like you…”

  Julie quickly told her about Shad Harky.

  “Oh, Julie, I’ve warned you about talking with men when you haven’t been properly introduced to them,” her mother scolded. “And I’ve heard about keelhauling. It’s a punishment inflicted for very serious offenses. This Harky fellow deserved his fate, I’m sure. I want you to stay away from him.”

  Julie assured her she intended to do just that. “Besides, he says Captain Ironheart, as he calls him, makes passengers stay below during the entire voyage. He doesn’t like them about, particularly women. I don’t want to run into Shad Harky again, but I certainly don’t have any intention of hiding in this hole of a room all the way to Bermuda.”

  “If the captain requests that we stay below, then we will abide by his wishes,” her mother said in her usually obliging manner. “I’m sure he has his reasons. While I don’t know much about ships and the sea, I do know that a captain’s word is law. I’ve no intention of questioning Captain Arnhardt’s rules, and I expect the same of you.”

  She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Besides, it won’t be so terribly long until we’re in Bermuda, and then we’ll change to a really nice ship, one that has proper accommodations for passengers. Let’s just be thankful Virgil was able to get us and Rose Hill cotton out of Savannah.

  “Now, then. You go to bed and get some sleep, and when the sun comes up in the morning, we’ll be well out to sea. I don’t want you fretting.”

  “That isn’t easy these days,” Julie said with a touch of sadness.

  “I know, dear.” Her mother hugged her once more. “But life will be better. You’ll see. Virgil will be so good to you. He adores you so.”

  “It isn’t that, it’s—”

  Her mother spoke sharply. “I know what you’re thinking about, and all we can do is pray for Myles’s safety. The thing we both must do, child, is not look back. We have to look forward. Myles did what he had to do, just as we all must.”

  One last embrace, and her mother left the cabin.

  Julie slowly slipped out of her dress, making a mental note to discard hoops and heavy petticoats for the duration of the voyage. There simply was not room to move about in such attire.

  The sheets of the bed were scratchy and uncomfortable, but the blankets were warm. Despite the apprehension that still held her in its grip, exhaustion took over and she felt herself slipping away into sleep.

  Yet thoughts of Myles and the horror of the past kept dancing through her mind. Where was he? How was he? Was he even alive?

  She bit her lip to hold back the tears. Tears made wrinkles, her mother said. Tears were useless, her father had often told her. But thoughts of yesterday’s anguish always made her weep, because in defending her honor, the brother she loved with all her heart had been forced to run away…a hunted man.

  Oh, dear God
, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair…

  The silent hand of sleep waved over her body. For the moment, the tears did not flow.

  Chapter Two

  The ship creaked and groaned as it stealthily glided through the Federal blockade, but Julie was oblivious to everything except the maddening nightmare that clutched her in its throes.

  It was that August night again, and she was walking into the woods surrounding Rose Hill, the air permeated by the sweetness of night-blooming jasmine. The grass beneath her feet was thick as wool, and she stooped to unfasten her high-topped shoes. Wiggling her bare toes deliciously, she ran the rest of the way toward the gurgling brook hidden in the inviting green forest.

  She wanted to forget the scene of moments before, when Myles left for another of his secret meetings with those who were not sympathetic to the southern cause. His activities had been a great source of heartache and worry to both Julie and her mother, for they were dangerous. Threats had been made and rocks thrown through their windows by thundering night-riders. But Myles would not listen to their pleas.

  “A man does what he must,” he had said many times. “I haven’t said I will fight with the North, but nothing will make me fight for the South and a cause I don’t believe in.”

  And so he had left once again, probably not to return till midnight or later. Julie was trying to escape her fearful thoughts about his safety, and she lifted her skirts about her waist as she stepped into the cool water of the stream.

  Frowning because the pantalets she wore were confining and warm, she stepped back into the bank and wriggled out of the long, frilly drawers. Tossing them to hang on a nearby bush, she felt the need for freedom, to run and splash and kick her legs in childlike glee, hoping to forget her cares, if only for a little while.

  Dancing about among the slippery rocks, she lifted her heart in song. Here, among the green and gold world of the quiet, peaceful forest, there was no misery, no war. Only serenity. She wished she could stay forever.

  Her voice echoed softly through the woods, and soon she was lost in her music. The trees became an appreciative audience, and the rustle of leaves her applause. Everything else faded into oblivion.

  Suddenly she tensed. A feeling of foreboding crept icily through her veins as she slowly turned around and around, glancing about. Something was not right. Had there been an unfamiliar sound? She was not sure just what it was, but she had a dreadful feeling that she was not alone. Something—or someone—was out there in the murky shadows…watching…listening…

  Standing in the middle of the rushing stream, she began to inch her way slowly toward the bank, moving cautiously over the slippery, moss-covered rocks lest she lose her balance and fall. Glancing about, she strained to see in the gathering darkness.

  There was an abrupt crackling, crunching sound of footsteps as the two men came out of their hiding place. Julie recognized them at once: Jabe Brogden and Wiley Lucas—local riffraff, troublemakers.

  Fear was a cobweb in Julie’s throat through which she struggled to push her words. “Why are you spying on me? What are you doing on Rose Hill? You—you’re trespassing!” She had been holding her skirt above her waist, bare legs exposed, and she let it drop quickly.

  They exchanged snickers, then Wiley squinted at her and snarled, “I reckon if’n you know what’s good for you, you’ll be telling us where that traitor brother of yours rode off to.”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, hoping she did not sound as frightened as she felt. “And don’t you call him a traitor. He has a right to his views.”

  “Not in these times!” Jabe cried. Then he started toward her. “You tell us what you know and you won’t get hurt. We’re gonna fix him and the bastards he runs with.”

  She saw Wiley tip a bottle to his lips before tossing it aside to follow Jabe. Her mind whirled dizzily as she fought the wave of panic that made her whole body quake. She must not show fear. They were drunk, and the best way to handle them was with indignation, not fear. But they were coming toward her, and she had to escape. There would be time to argue later, when she was not alone with them.

  “We like them pretty legs.” Wiley grinned, exposing yellowed, chipped teeth. “We want to see what else you got that’s pretty. I’ll just bet you’re pretty all over…”

  “No!” she screamed in panic. “No! Leave me alone!” She turned in the direction of the opposite bank, her foot slipped on a rock, and she fought wildly to regain her balance, only to topple into the rolling creek. Splashing, arms flailing, she struggled to right herself, but continued to lose her footing as she tumbled over and over in the rushing waters.

  Strong hands were groping, reaching for her, and she slapped out at them, screaming, fighting, but to no avail. She was yanked up and out of the water, carried to the other side and into the thick brush.

  They tossed her roughly on the ground and ripped her clothes from her body. When she was naked before them, Jabe hissed that if she would tell them where Myles had gone, they might let her go.

  She begged and pleaded with them to believe that she knew nothing.

  “Well, no need in wasting such good stuff,” Jabe laughed, falling on top of her, his hands grabbing her breasts and squeezing them painfully. “We’ll just take care of your brother tomorrow…”

  With a sudden surge of strength she did not know she possessed, Julie raised her hands to stab her thumbs into his eyes just as she brought her knee smashing up into his groin. With a shriek of agony, he rolled to one side, clutching himself.

  Julie struggled to her knees and was almost on her feet when Wiley, who had been standing by and watching, stunned, came alive. His arm snaked out and his hand wrapped about her ankle to jerk her backwards. She felt the bare flesh of her belly and breasts scrape painfully against the rough ground beneath her.

  “I’m gonna teach her a lesson,” Jabe yelled. “Hold her right there. I’m gonna take her like the bitch-dog she is…”

  They were holding her, about to defile her, Julie feeling anguished and tortured, when the angry, protesting shout erupted in the night.

  They ran away, scurrying to disappear into the thick woods as the servant who had been dispatched to search for Julie appeared just in time to save her.

  She remembered only bits and pieces of what happened after that. She awakened in her own bed, with Sara seated in a chair beside her, sobbing and wailing. Her mother had been nearby, and Doc Perkins was there also, saying something about how she’d had a terrible shock, but there were no physical injuries. Then they saw she was awake, and Doc gave her something to make her sleep again.

  Then Myles was there, shaking her against the protests of their mother, demanding to know who was responsible, and she had mumbled the names, terrified when his scream of rage shook the whole house as he left to avenge her honor. Their mother was sobbing, begging him not to go, saying he should let the law take care of it.

  But he had gone. And they had not heard from him since.

  Myles was now a hunted man…wanted for what the sheriff called cold-blooded murder.

  Myles had gone to town, directly to the tavern where Jabe Brogden and Wiley Lucas hung out. Without a word, he walked inside and shot Wiley Lucas dead. Jabe Brogden escaped.

  It didn’t matter that they had tried to rape Julie. The sheriff called it murder.

  Julie and her mother knew the real reason Sheriff Franklin was so quick to put an ax to Myles. He, like so many other fire-eating secessionists, was quick to judge and hate a man who did not share his views about the war.

  Julie woke up crying and calling Myles’s name.

  It had been so real, the nightmare that kept returning. She could feel their hands upon her body. She could hear Myles’s raging screams as he stormed from the house. Dear God, she shook herself in terror, would it never end? Would she ever stop reliving the horror over and over again?

  It was like that other time in the woods when they were both only ten. It had been years before she could close he
r eyes without seeing that wild hog ripping out of the bushes, charging straight at them. Myles had picked her up and thrust her skyward, toward the low-hanging limb of a nearby tree, as he screamed at her to grab hold and hang on.

  He had taken the charge of that hog himself, saving her life at the risk of his own. Fortunately, there were field hands not too far distant who heard her screams and came running to slay the deadly creature, whose tusks by that time had pierced Myles in his right hip. He lay bleeding on the ground, moaning with pain, and he and Julie realized that had the others not arrived, the hog would have kept right on charging until it killed him.

  Myles lost much blood, and for several days, Doc Perkins didn’t hold out much hope that he would live. As it was, the wound left him with a permanent limp.

  “Every time you take a step and I see you walk that way, I’ll remember you did it to save my life,” Julie told him tearfully one day.

  “Aw, I didn’t do it for you,” he quipped impishly. “I just wanted to see if you were smart enough to climb that tree. I wasn’t even thinking about that dumb old hog.”

  But she knew better, and he realized it. Myles being Myles, Julie accepted the fact that he did not want her to gush over his heroism, so she never mentioned it again.

  Still, it grieved her when other children teased Myles about his limp, calling him “gimp,” and being cruel as only the young can be. She remembered that Jabe Brogden and Wiley Lucas had always been the ringleaders of those who provoked Myles, and she hated them for it. Once she even slapped Jabe for saying something about Myles when he was not around.

  “I’ll get you for that,” he warned.

  And, she recalled with a shudder, he almost had. Only it hadn’t really been her that he and Wiley wanted that night. It was their way of hurting Myles for being what they considered a traitor.

  “Myles will return one day,” her mother had said, her lower lip quivering. “That’s why we must work extra hard to insure that we don’t lose Rose Hill. We want a home for him to come back to, don’t we?”