Souls Aflame

by Patricia Hagan

  Julie also heard how many of the permanent residents of Wilmington had moved elsewhere, letting their houses to those who could afford enormously inflated prices, usually the agents and employees of blockade-running companies. “Those who stay, like me,” Pearl explained resentfully, “who can’t afford to leave and ain’t got no place to go anyway, stay inside as much as possible. You seldom see a lady on the streets, believe me.”

  The morning Julie set out for the Office of Orders and Details, Pearl was aghast. “You just can’t do it, child. You can’t go walking down to the waterfront.”

  “I have to,” Julie tried to explain. “I talked with a soldier passing by the house yesterday, and he told me that the office was established to handle all orders and assignments for pilots and signal officers. He said he had never heard of a Captain Arnhardt, but that if his ship had been destroyed, and he was an experienced pilot, he would be registered with the Orders and Detail office. So that’s where I must go to locate him.”

  “But you said you didn’t even know if he was alive,” Pearl argued.

  “I can’t just sit here, can I? My purpose in coming to Wilmington was to try and find the one person I felt had the courage to help me. And if I find out he is dead, or he says he won’t help me, then I’ll just have to find another way, because I have to get my brother out of that prison—” Her voice broke, and she glanced away quickly, blinking back tears.

  So she made her way through the streets, ignoring the crude remarks and hungry leers. Once a drunk grabbed at her skirt, ripping it as she twisted away frantically. She began to walk even faster, wishing it had not been necessary to sell the wagon and mules when they arrived in Wilmington. It would have been better had she not been forced to walk, but with no money for food, they had had no choice except to sell the animals.

  Suddenly a fight erupted in a crowd through which Julie was about to pass. Trying to avoid the melee, she turned down a nearby alley, not knowing where it would take her, but wanting to escape trouble, if possible.

  “Well, well, what we got here?”

  Terror gripped her as she saw two bedraggled men struggling to their feet. They had been sitting in the shadows, drinking, and as soon as Julie saw them, she turned to run back toward the street. But they were too fast for her. One grabbed her, slinging her to the ground, and her screams only made them laugh as they fell together on top of her thrashing body.

  “…been wantin’ some…” one of them said huskily, as he struggled to pin her arms beneath her, “…and here you come, just prissin’ along like some fine lady.”

  “Hey, hurry and get her dress up,” the other panted. “I know it’s gonna be some sweet stuff. Ain’t she a pretty thing, though?”

  Julie did not see another man rising from the shadows farther down the alley, nor could she see the long stick he carried with a sharp nail protruding from its end. He moved swiftly, knocking her first attacker from her with one swift blow to the back of his head, then smashing the other across the face. With blood streaming down, the second man ran toward the street. The other lay on the ground, not moving.

  Julie shrank away, trembling with fright over what lay ahead. This man would rape her…she knew it… He had beaten off his friends because he wanted her all to himself. And then he would kill her, and there would be no one left to give a damn what happened to Myles. Her scream was low and piercing, like that of a dying animal…

  “Please don’t be frightened,” he said suddenly, gently, kneeling beside her. “Are you all right? Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. My, you are a lovely thing. What ever are you doing back here in an alley?”

  She stared at him in silent confusion, praying he was telling the truth, that he intended her no harm. Nonetheless she remained on her guard.

  He laughed softly. “I see. You don’t trust me, do you? Even after I saved you from those two rogues! Well, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harley Beaumont, and I’m a soldier in the Confederate Army. I’m on leave. Now, I know you don’t think me much of a gentleman, sitting back in an alley and having a drink or two, but it does get rowdy in those saloons. I felt I was safer here. So!” He took a deep breath and gave her a warm smile. “Suppose you tell me your story now that I’ve told you mine. I assure you I mean you no harm.”

  She eyed him warily. He was perhaps the same age as she, and while not handsome, he could hardly be considered repulsive. He had dark eyes, a ruddy complexion, and thin, straight lips. Despite his friendly overture, there was something indefinably sinister about his facial expression, and she still did not wholly trust him.

  She saw no harm in telling him her name, however, or her mission. He listened, nodding now and then, and finally he got to his feet and pulled her up. “Now, are you sure you’re all right? You weren’t injured when they threw you to the ground?”

  “No. I may have a few bruises, but nothing compared to my eventual injuries had you not intervened.” She forced a smile. “I do thank you, Mr. Beaumont. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have to be on my way.”

  “Call me Harley. I intend to call you Julie, if I may. And I would like to escort you to the Orders and Details office. I think by now you realize it just isn’t safe to be on the street.”

  They stepped out of the alley. Julie saw that the fight she had fled from earlier had ended, but there were still mobs gathering about. She would have liked to take leave of her new-found acquaintance, but the idea of continuing on her way unescorted was not appealing. “Very well, Harley. I accept your kind offer, though I don’t know why you should bother with me. You’ve done enough already, and I can never repay you—”

  He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and murmured, “Don’t worry about that. I’ve been rather lonely here in Wilmington, and it’s my good fate to meet so beautiful and charming a woman.”

  Apprehension rippled through her and she decided it best to discourage any interest he might have in her as a woman. “I think it fair to tell you that the man I’m looking for is…” she took a deep breath, then easily rolled the lie from her tongue, “…my fiancé.”

  She felt him stiffen, but only slightly, and the smile did not leave his lips. “Well, that is his good fortune, Julie. I envy him. But that doesn’t prevent me from still wanting to help you.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  When they arrived at the office, they found it crowded with soldiers and crewmen who gave Julie curious glances. She left Harley standing just inside the door and made her way toward the counter that divided the room in half. She had no choice but to stand in the haphazardly formed line, and almost an hour passed before she was actually pressing herself against the wooden bar.

  A bespectacled man glared at her and said in an impatient tone, “Yes, what is it? We’re quite busy here, and I can’t see where a woman’s got any business—”

  Ignoring his rudeness, she said in a rush, “I must find someone. His name is Derek Arnhardt. Several months ago his ship was blown up by the Yankees near Bermuda. He was a blockade runner. I wish to know if he is registered here as being in service.”

  He sighed with exasperation and snapped, “I’ve more important things to do than help you find your beau. This office was not established to locate missing suitors. Now if you’ll just step aside and let me help someone who has real business—”

  “Wait a minute, Leland,” a stern voice spoke behind Julie. She turned to see a heavyset man standing there, and he looked quite angry as he said, “It won’t take you long to see if the man she’s looking for is registered here. Seems to me I heard about a runner by the name of Ironheart, or something like that. And you can look at this young lady and see that she’s no waterfront trollop out to track down her lover.”

  Several others nearby chimed in in agreement, and the man called Leland realized he had no choice but to cooperate. Muttering angrily to himself, he moved from the counter to a shelf behind him, where several thick ledgers were stacked. Leafing through them with obvious
irritation, he finally turned and snapped out the words Julie had prayed she would one day hear: “Yeah, there’s a pilot registered by the name of Arnhardt, assigned to the steamer Pamlico.”

  Julie felt dizzy, and she gripped the edge of the counter with her fingertips to steady herself. He was alive. Derek was really alive. He had made it, and with a maddening whirl that sent her heart skipping, she wondered momentarily if she was overjoyed at the news because it meant he might indeed help her rescue Myles, or if there might be another, deeper, reason.

  But this was no time to ponder the feelings in her heart. “Is he in port now?” she cried exuberantly. “And if he isn’t, when is he due in?”

  Leland slammed the ledger shut angrily. “Look, lady, that’s all the information you’re getting out of me.” He looked about the room at those listening and snapped, “What’s the matter with you men? How do we know she isn’t a spy for the Yankees? We’ve got a war going on, in case you forgot.”

  An awkward silence fell over the room, and then the men began to shuffle their feet, moving away from her with suspicious glances.

  Pushing his way through the crowd, Harley wrapped his fingers tightly about her arm and whispered anxiously, “Let’s get out of here, Julie. You’ve gotten all the information they’re going to give you. I think I can find out whether or not the Pamlico is in port. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

  They walked several blocks in silence before he said, “I think his steamer may be in port. Seems like I heard that one mentioned in a bar the other night. But if she is, she’s due to run the blockade out of here anytime.”

  Julie stopped walking and faced him excitedly. “Then let’s go at once and try to find him. We can walk along the docks and read the names on the ships, and when we find the Pamlico, all we have to do is ask to see the pilot—”

  “No!” His eyes narrowed, and once again she was overcome by an ominous feeling about this man. He stared at her thoughtfully, tugging at his beard, then said, “I’ll slip down there and see what I can find out. It isn’t safe for you. Now where is this place you’re staying? I’ll walk you there, and when I get the information, I’ll come and tell you about it.”

  She wondered why he seemed so nervous. He knew her financial plight, and could not expect to be paid for his services, yet there was definitely something on his mind. Surely he did not expect to be rewarded in “other ways.” Rather than chance his entertaining that sort of notion, she murmured, “I’ll just handle it from here on, Harley. You’ve been most kind, but I won’t impose on you any longer. You are on leave and supposed to be enjoying yourself, certainly not getting involved in my problems. So I thank you, and—”

  To her surprise, he laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. There was something insidious in the tone and the gleam in his eyes. “If you think I’m going to expect favors from you, Julie, you can set your mind at ease. I assure you I’ve got more important things on my mind just now. So just do as I say, and we’ll both wind up quite satisfied, I assure you.”

  She was puzzled over his behavior but decided she was in no position to argue. It would be quite dangerous to venture to the waterfront and wander about looking for a steamer called the Pamlico, forced to ask questions of anyone she chanced to meet along the way. There was nothing to be done except allow him to help.

  They returned to Pearl Watson’s, and then Harley left her, saying he would be back as soon as possible. When she went to the barn and told Sara about what she’d found out, Sara shook her head and said, “He ain’t gonna come back. And you ain’t got no business goin’ down there lookin’ fo’ that man yo’self. Why don’t we just go on up to Virginny and you can see about Mastah Myles yo’self?”

  “I can’t do that,” Julie said quickly. “Those people at the prison aren’t going to just let Myles go, Sara. We’re going to have to help him to escape. And I can’t do it alone. If Harley doesn’t return tonight, there’s nothing for me to do but search for Derek myself, no matter how dangerous it might be.”

  The day passed slowly, and Julie felt it would never end. Sara and Lionel exchanged worried glances as she paced the straw-covered floor nervously.

  Julie wondered how she would feel when she actually saw Derek again. Just being close to him, his strength, his courage, his all-encompassing command of any situation…these qualities would make her feel that she could face whatever life had to offer.

  She stood at the open door of the barn watching the stars above, a thousand fireflies twinkling in a cloak of black velvet. Soon, she rationalized, she would have to face the reality that Harley Beaumont was not going to return. He’d probably found his way to a saloon, started drinking, and forgotten all about her. She couldn’t blame him. Why should he worry about her problems?

  “Julie…”

  She stepped from the barn, straining to see into the darkness.

  “Over here. Come quickly.”

  She moved into the thick foliage of the scuppernong vines that enshrouded the old barn. “Harley?” she whispered anxiously. “Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me,” he said nervously, stepping away from the thick vines. “We must move quickly. I found the Pamlico, and she’s being loaded. They may run the blockade before dawn.”

  “Then we’ve got to ask to see the pilot.” Her breath came in excited gasps. “Let’s be on our way.”

  As they hurried through the night, Harley explained that the ship was being loaded on the opposite side of the river from Wilmington, on a low, marshy flat, where the steam cotton presses had been erected. There were sentries, he said, posted on the wharves, and she and Harley would have to be very careful or they might be shot as spies.

  “Spies?” She laughed nervously. “Harley, all we have to do is explain to the sentries that I wish to speak to the pilot, Derek Arnhardt. They will go and get him for me. It’s all quite simple.”

  “Not as simple as you think,” he almost snarled. “Now let’s don’t waste time talking. Let’s move fast.”

  Julie was puzzled, but she quickened her pace to keep up with him. It was a long distance, and by the time they reached the waterfront and Harley paid the owner of a small boat to take them to the other side, her legs were aching.

  The boat pushed ashore among brush and brambles, and by the time they waded through the marshes, Julie’s dress was soaked almost to her waist. “I see no need for all this secrecy,” she complained, a mixture of anger and annoyance in her voice. “Harley, Derek knows me. He’ll see me, I’m sure—”

  “Will you shut up?” he snarled, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arm till she winced with pain. “Do as I say and stop nagging me.”

  “You’re hurting me,” she cried, trying to jerk away from him, but he held her tightly, dragging her through the reeds and saw grass as she stumbled and struggled to stay on her feet. “I want you to just go, Harley. Leave me be. I can make it the rest of the way alone. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but—”

  Abruptly he stopped and turned around, grabbing her shoulders to shake her so hard her teeth were rattling. “Listen to me, you little fool. You think I’m doing all this because I’m a gentleman out to help a woman in distress? Why do you think those sentries are posted? They are there to stop deserters from sneaking on board the ships being loaded. I happen to be a deserter, and I want to get on board the Pamlico. I’m sick of this stinking war. I’m not going to get my guts blown out by some Yankee ball. I’m going to stow away and make it to Bermuda or wherever the hell they go, and then I’m going to lie on some beach and relax till the blasted war is over. And you’re going to help me do it, or I’ll slit your goddamned throat here and now and throw you in the river for the crabs to eat. Do you understand me?”

  She felt cold steel pressing against her neck, and she could only murmur “Yes…” as terror struck her in the pit of her stomach. “Yes…yes…”

  “Now I’ll tell you how we’re going to work this out. I’m going to hide in the bushes, and
you’re going to get the sentry’s attention. That shouldn’t be hard to do. You’re pretty, and the son of a bitch will be only too happy to talk to you, figuring he can line up a little lovin’ later on. Just leave the rest to me.”

  She felt a slight sting as he pressed the blade harder against her skin, knew the flesh was broken. “One more thing. You give me away, and I’ll see you dead before they can get me. You understand?”

  She could hardly push the word from her lips: “Yes…”

  “All right. Now here’s what I’ll do for you: I’ll get you on board. We’ll hide out, and when we reach wherever we’re going, I’ll turn you loose to go to your lover.”

  He gave her a rough shove. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Terrified, she knew there was no hope of escape for the moment. He pushed her along until they reached the edge of the marsh. In the light of the torches burning along the dock, she could see the long, sleek ship. From her experience onboard the Ariane, she knew this steamer was preparing to run the blockade. The spars had been reduced to a light pair of lower masts without any yards across them. The only break in their sharp outline was the small crow’s nest on the foremast to be used as a lookout point. The hull, showing about eight feet above water, was painted a dull gray color, to render the steamer as nearly invisible in the night as possible. The Pamlico was lowered square with the gunwales. The funnel, which would spew forth the exhaust from anthracite coal, used because it was smokeless, had been lowered close to the deck. The steam would be blown off under water so that no noise would be made.

  Julie saw crates of chickens about to be loaded, and knew there would be no roosters among them, for fear that their crowing might give away the ship’s whereabouts to the Yankee blockaders.

  As Derek had also explained to Julie, the in-shore squadron off Wilmington consisted of about thirty vessels which lay in the form of a crescent facing the entrance to the Cape Fear River, the center being just out of range of the heavy guns mounted on Fort Fisher. And these horns, as they were called, gradually approached the shore on each side, so that the whole line or curve covered about ten miles.