by Day Taylor
In spite of his talk, Adam did nothing. He and Ben and Beau tried to keep the Ullah to a regular schedule. The number of runaways Tom held for them in the Green Swamp declined, mostly due to the zealous activities of vigilante groups and patrollers.
Daily some new step toward war was taken until all eyes focused on Fort Sumter. To the North it was a symbol of the Union. To the South, Sumter was on their soil, a fort manned by soldiers of a foreign nation.
On April 11 General Pierre G. T. de Beauregard, commander of the Southern troops and a man with an eye to the way his name would look in future history books, demanded surrender. At 3:30 a.m. on April 12, Beauregard sent a message to Major Robert Anderson, commander of Union forces in Fort Sumter. He would fire on the fort in one hour if it was not surrendered.
A Confederate howitzer fired on the fort at 4:30 a.m., beginning a thirty-three-hour bombardment. Major Anderson lowered the American flag on April 14, 1861.
On April 15, Lincoln called for seventy-five thousand militia to be drawn voluntarily from loyal states. North Carolina seceded rather than fight against her sister Southern states. On the seventeenth President Davis issued letters of marque authorizing privateers to plunder under the
guardianship of the Confederacy. It was a remarkably bold move, for the United States was involved in international talks to outlaw the use of privateering on the high seas.
Lincoln's response was no less bold or- remarkable. On April 19 he issued a blockade of all Southern ports. Not only would that create the largest blockade ever attempted, over three thousand miles of coast, but it meant Lincoln was violating international law by preventing international trade in ports of his own nation. Since Lincoln did not have a navy anywhere near capable df blockading the territory, his blockade existed more on paper than on ocean waters. Ships continued to go in and out of Southern ports in these early days, somewhat chary, but mostly derisive of the pompous little navy that sought to guard so immense a coast. - With the blockade, however, Adam gained a special worry. The security of the Ullah became precarious. She was liable to capture by the North and confiscation by the South. Since President Davis had been issuing letters of marque for privateers, Adam had twice been encouraged by prominent planters to register his ship as a privateer. Each time he had evaded their questions. He did not want to spend his days seeking and capturing Northern ships for booty and bounty.
But there was no place for a neutral in the South. The pressure grew. He would have to come to a decision soon, or no planter would ship cotton or any other cargo on the Ullah. Their business was for the loyal. Adam had to start showing his colors prominently.
He called a meeting of the interested parties in the Ullah. Ben, Beau, Adam, Tom, and Garrett met in Garrett's parlor. "Ben and I have discussed our situation, Garrett. It seems our best move is to keep the Ullah running. There is pressure to register her as a privateer, but I hope that will die down. I think it is just another manifestation of war fever. Waiting seems worth the gamble."
Ben added enthusiastically, "One thing is certain: the South is dependent on the North and Europe for manufactured goods, and Europe needs our cotton.- Why, we could make a bloody fortune if the war lasts long enough for England to use up her warehouse of stored cotton."
"More likely y'all land us in some pesky jail," Beau grumbled.
Adam's attention focused on Garrett. "The one question
we have is where does Rod Courtland fit into our scheme. I still cannot feel comfortable about him. The South is determined to win its independence; in that respect we're at war with a foreign nation. Mr. Courtland has an excellent business mind, but he's definitely a patriot—a Union patriot. Now he has a quarter interest in the UUah."
Garrett glanced at Tom. "What do you think, Tom?'*
Tom slumped down in his chair, vaguely uncomfortable in the confines of a proper house; he had grown accustomed to his rough life in the swamp. "Courtland knew conflict was comin'. He's gotten what he wanted from the Ullah's trade. I don't think he's goin' to start squawkin' now."
Garrett agreed. Ben stood up immediately, unable to keep still. "We had another thought," he began, then turned to Adam. "You tell them about it. It's really your idea. You deserve the credit. Or the blame."
Tom laughed. "Here it comes, Garrett. Hold fast to your pocketbook."
Adam laughed with Tom. "It would be only a temporary cost if I'm right."
"What'd I tell you, Garrett. It's gonna cost us. Do I know these boys or don't I?"
"Lincoln can foul normal shipping with this blockade of his, but if there were ships specially designed to outrun his cruisers and slip into river channels, the blockade would pose no threat. The longer the war lasts and the longer the blockade exists, the greater the market will be both for manufactured goods in the South and raw materials in Britain and France. There is already talk that shallow draft steamers are being built for the purpose in Liverpool and Glasgow. They sail under British registry and use Bermuda or Nassau as home port. We've got three captains and a golden opportunity. If we can finance three fast ships, we can aid the Southern cause, continue the slave hauling, and make our fortunes."
"Three," Garrett repeated. "Then this is not a new idea, Adam."
"Beau and I figure we can manage a quarter interest in one ship," Ben said earnestly.
"Among the five of us, we can raise nearly enough for two ships if we all stretch to the limit," Adam said. "Now, what about Courtland, Garrett . , . Tom? If he were Southern, I wouldn't hesitate."
Tom scratched his head. "You say we can swing one of those special-built steamers on our own? Doesn't seem to me it'd take much time to raise money for the second, seein' as how you claim we're all gonna make a fast fortune. What do you need the third ship for anyway? You've got the Ullah."
"We were hoping to keep the Ullah out of any blockade running, Tom. She's a good ship, but her best speed is just over thirteen knots. Mr. Lincoln's a determined man. He's rigging everything from whalers to river steamers to man that blockade. He's also building new ships—fast ones. I don't want the Ullah to become a prize of war.** Adam paced back and forth.
"You don't want to use her at all?" Tom asked,
"I don't want to lose that ship, Tom. Ben and I agree that for now she can safely make the New Orleans-Nassau run. But the new ships are being rigged for sail and steam. We'll be able to make sixteen knots or better with a favorable wind. There won't be much the Union can float that could outrun us in one of them."
"Then, it would seem that your solution is to deal directly with Rod, Adam," Garrett said. "I suggest you stop in New York, talk to Rod, then proceed to England. You will be ordering at least one ship, and with a little luck you'll be able to place the full order for three."
Adam had visited Rod Courtland's fashionable brown-stone house before, but he was no less impressed by the extravagant bachelor quarters this time than he had been previously. He liked Rod Courtland, though he found him a strangely aloof man who defied understanding.
Rod stood slightly over six feet, an inch or two shorter than Adam. His hair was iron gray, stark in contrast to his deeply tanned face. He had the most vivid blue eyes Adam had ever seen. But for all his charm, good looks, and business acumen, Rod Courtland remained a stranger to most people. By his choice, he seemed to attract acquaintances rather than friends. And he was unmarried. In itself that was not remarkable, but from previous visits, Adam knew the man's appetites. Rod liked and was liked by all manner of women, but he remained the charmed admirer or the occasional lover. "Each man is permitted one serious error in love, then he is expected to become
wise enough to avoid the next." Rod had left the remark unexplained.
Adam was shown into Rod's thoroughly masculine, booklined study by a pretty, plump-bottomed Irish servant girl who looked him over with minute attention. He returned her admiring stare.
"That will be all, Hannah,** Rod said wryly as he entered the room. He turned a warm smile on Adam as he extended his
hand in greeting. He glanced toward the slowly retreating girl. "That one," he laughed. "She's just come over, and damn, with her bold eyes, if some yokel isn*t gomg to knock her up before I get her properly trained. It's good to see you again, Captain Tremain. Our meetings are far too few. How long will you be here this time?'*
"I'm sailing for England as soon as we*ve completed our business."
"One of these times I'm going to convince you to see New York."
"I'd like that, sir, thank you."
*Then I'll extract a promise from you right now. The next time you come into the city, I have your company for at least three days."
"Agreed.**
"Good. Now, then, what urgent business carries you here and on to England with such haste?"
Among the characteristics that Adam liked best in Rod Courtland was his unwillingness to waste valuable time on meaningless talk. Neither man pretended there was anything between them but a ship and a business and a wary respect for one another. Adam settled into his chair and told Rod concisely and without embellishment the details of his proposition. Uninterrupting, Rod listened, then sat back deep in concentration.
Fmally he shifted his weight, studying Adam. *1 suppose you already realize that I have no sympathy with this insurrection.**
"I'm a Southerner, Mr. Courtland. Had I been asked, I would have advised against war, but I was not asked. We are at war."
"So we are. Undeclared perhaps, but war nonetheless. It is a quirk of fate, Captain Trendain, but that same hapless toss of historical dice that placed you on the side of the Confederacy has placed me on that of the Union. We've become enemies,"
Adam bristled slightly but showed no outward sign except a tightening of his mouth. "I've become no one's enemy. If I must defend my homeland, I'll certainly aid her in whatever way I can, but the South hasn't made any offensive move against the North. She will not unless forced to do so."
A look of baffled amusement passed over Rod's face. "You don't consider firing on Fort Sumter an aggressive act?"
"No, sir. Fort Sumter is on Confederate soil. Major Anderson was asked to vacate the fort several times before action was taken. It was Mr. Lincoln's decision to maintain Federal troops in the fort. I would call our action a defensive one. But we're straying from our purpose. What I propose is a business venture likely to make a fortune for both of us."
Rod laughed. "Do you realize, young man, the South-em commercial debt to the North is approximately two hundred million dollars, and most of that is ovs^ed to New York City merchants, of whom I am one? Now, you propose a shipping venture in the midst of a civil uprising in which I must purchase the ship, supply at least part of the cargo, and become a traitor to my own country!'*
Adam was on his feet, as angry as Rod. The two men stood glaring at each other. "There is no point in discussing this further. Good day, Mr. Courtland. Doing business with you has been memorable if not pleasant*'
"Sit down!" Courtland snapped. "You and I have a few things to clear up, not the least of which is the Ullah. Or has it conveniently slipped your mind that I have a quarter interest in that ship?"
"I'll make arrangements through Garrett for you to be bought out."
"Sit down, damn it! You're the most hotheaded man I've ever dealt with. Where's all the slow Southern charm. Captain? Or is there a cold-blooded Yankee hiding beneath all that Rebel skin?" Rod looked up into Adam's angry face. He began to enjoy himself. "Let me hear your proposition again. A man should always be thoroughly informed of golden opportunities he is about to refuse, don't you think?"
"I see no point in wasting my time or yours on explanations if your mind is already made up.'*
"I see. You have no faith in your powers of persuasion
or the irresistibility of your business venture. In that case—"
"Just a minute, Mr. Courtland, what kind of antagonistic game are you playing?" Adam demanded.
"It's called testing the mettle of a man, and you, Captain Tremain, have more temper than sense.**
Adam stood poised to leave in a flurry of righteous anger. Rod Courtland's face was as hard-set and unyielding as his own, but Rod's eyes shone with the bright blue light of victory. More than losing Rod Courtland's investment in the ships, Adam was nettled by this man's infuriating ability to challenge him as no one else could and make him look like an inexperienced, hotheaded cub. Always in Courtland's presence he had the need to prove himself, to be somehow the man's equal. Even more than to Tom, he was instinctively drawn to this man.
He took a step back toward the center of the room, then walked swiftly to the chair he had vacated. He said coolly, "If you're able to keep a reasonably open mind, Mr. Court-land, I'll convince you you'd be a fool to turn my venture down."
A small smile played on Courtland's mouth, a smile that could no longer deceive Adam that Rod Courtland would easily be convinced of anything. He would not be tempted by greed. Nor could he be appealed to on solely idealistic grounds. He would agree only if the facts appealed to him. It was Adam's task to discover what combination of information would please Rod.
"If we can, let's keep our opposing patriotisms out of this," Adam began. "Both of us are aware that neither the North nor the South will give up this war until one or the other is the decisive victor. In spite of Mr. Lincoln's early optimism in calling for three-month volunteers, it is likely to be a long war. I propose we provide each side what they need. No matter what my sympathies, Mr. Courtland, I do not wish to see Northern mills idle or Yankee men without work. I cannot believe you would want to win a war over people unable to supply themselves with food or call yourself a victor because the South cannot clothe or arm itself. If it is true that the South battles for its avowed cause of independence and the North carries the banner of unity and moral right, then the war should be one of equal adversaries, or nearly so. Should it not?"
Courtland's expression did not change.
"And should you still be concerned, I intend to continue hauling out of the South those blacks who want their freedom." Adam pulled from his inner pocket a sheaf of papers Garrett had prepared, delineating the terms of the agreement and the responsibilities of each man.
Rod read through the papers. "You have Garrett Pinck-ney's approval?" He put the papers down. "Fm surprised."
"Why? Garrett got me started slave hauling, and he, along with yourself and Tom, purchased the Ullah. Why would he change his mind?"
"Several reasons. For one, Garrett was a Northerner most of his life. He was a staunch Unionist until now. Most important, this proposition would make me a traitor. I wouldn't expect a lawyer of Garrett's caliber to propose such a thing."
"We were going to keep politics out of this. Your feelings about being labeled a traitor have no place. If it comes to that, sir, you have had no compunction in making me a traitor for the past two years as I hauled slaves out of the South. Nor did you complain when I said I would continue to do so. As to technical disloyalty, Mr. Court-land, each of us is making a traitor of tiie other," Adam said, angry again.
"What you do, you do by your own choice, Captain, and so do I," Rod said with infuriating calm. "President Lincoln has issued an order stating that no loyal state shall engage in trade with those in the condition of unlawful insurrection. Legally, I cannot trade with the South at all."
*That kind of unreasonable control of states' and citizens' rights is precisely why this war originated. True enough, it has come to rest on the shoulders of slavery, but slavery is an issue only in the context of property rights, Mr. Courtland. No one is fooled that the North wants the problems of the blacks. More than once I've questioned to what freedom I bring the runaways. They live here in squalor and misery. They are beset by disease and racial hatred. They are stacked in tenements so decrepit and decayed that no planter would tolerate them on his plantation. They are despised by those whose jobs they take, and their education is as severely neglected here as in the South. The Northern war is one of interference with the way of the South,
Mr. Courtland, not one of ideals or humanitarianism. No one here wants the freed slaves. No
one here wants their problems. Those you wish to dump on the South."
"But I suppose you do consider the Southern cause one of ideals?" Rod asked sarcastically.
"To a degree, yes. Butchery of Southern land and resources to feed Northern manufactory has not resulted in economic good for the South. We have been judged and condemned, interfered with, threatened with Abolitionist-incited insurrection, driven to the wall.
"You claim to loathe slavery, Mr. Courtland, yet you see nothing wrong in making the South no more than a raw-material bank for the Northern mill. Is there a difference in the loathsomeness of an individual man being made a slave and a whole section of the country held in bondage to another?"
Rod listened with interest as Adam defended the South and its unique problems, citing incidents that had occurred in the three decades preceding the war that Rod had never considered. One political blunder after another had led to war. If there was ever a war reflecting the wishes of the people, this war reflected those of the Southern people. Rod admitted he couldn't say that of the North. There were those who were deeply concerned for the Union and those who deeply hated slavery, but there were many more who looked upon Lincoln and his war as a damned nuisance. And there were those who wanted peace at any cost.
Where Rod himself fit into the broad spectrum he didn't know. But it was obvious that Adam knew exactly where he belonged. Rod admired more than anything else the young man's passionate love for his land. Adam wanted peace and he wanted union, but only with the South holding its head high.
Rod knew Adam believed-slavery to be entering its final phase in the South but was not willing to support immediate abolition. Three and a half million idle blacks in a rural population of nine million was sufficiently devastating in thought alone. Rod could imagine the complete chaos it would bring in reality. "Damned kid's going to turn me into a Rebel yet."
