Another explosion rent the air. Another missile whistled past them. But when it splashed into the water, Jonah could tell it was closer than the first shot. The Yankees were closing in. They would sink this ship in a matter of minutes.
“Cannoners post!” At least he wasn’t part of the seven-man team who would have to man the cannons on either end of the ship. “Solid shot load!”
The deck shuddered under Jonah’s feet as twin explosions announced their intention to fight. The sky above was filled with smoke so dense and gray he could no longer tell the time of day.
Jonah wondered if he should jump overboard and take his chances in the strong currents of the river. Or should he remain aboard and try to convince the commander to surrender? The side of the Union ironclad expanded, growing larger and larger until he could see nothing but its dark hull in front and above them. Too late. He was too late to do any good at all.
“Brace for impact,” the Confederate officer warned the crew.
Jonah slung his rifle over one shoulder and wrapped his arms around the tall mast at the stern. He closed his eyes and prayed, the words lost in the sounds of battle raging around him. Then it happened. As their prow rammed into the side of the ironclad, a cannon found them. It slammed through the tall stacks of cotton and pierced the deck with devastating results.
Water gushed upward in a dirty fountain as it mixed with coal, splintered wood, and blood. Jonah tried to hold on to the mast, but he was thrown away from it like a droplet of water shaken from a dog’s back. He scrambled for another purchase as he slid headfirst toward the edge of the steamship. In the last possible instant, his questing fingers latched onto something. What they found was not important. What mattered was that he had not plunged into the muddy water between the two ships. That way was certain death.
Another barrage of cannon fire warned him the danger was not past. Screams of fear and pain were punctuated by the endless booms of the cannons. He managed to drag himself to his knees and look around. The deck was on fire, and he saw several men lowering buckets to the river. The attempt to stop the deadly flames was doomed. The ship was sinking faster than he would have thought possible. He had failed, completely and utterly. He would not be able to save a single life.
Explosions rocked the water around them, but at least the ironclad had drawn back some. It gave the sailors a better chance to escape in the river without being caught up in the churning water of the paddle wheels or rammed by the heavy hulls. As he crossed to the starboard side of the boat, a groan stopped him.
Jonah glanced around, his eyes streaming from the thick smoke enveloping the ship. At first he saw nothing, but then the groan came again, and he saw a slight movement to his right. A young man, a boy really, lay on the deck, his legs pinned beneath the heavy mast that must have broken during the battle. Jonah fell to his knees to assess the situation.
“I think my leg’s broke.” The boy coughed. “I don’t wanta die.”
“You’re not going to die.” Jonah made the promise even though he had no idea how to keep it. He glanced around them, looking for something to use as a lever. Several men staggered past them, but no one stopped. Each was fighting to save his life, climbing to the far side of the boat as it listed at an ever-steeper angle.
Remembering the rifle on his back, Jonah pulled it forward and wedged it under the mast. Pushing with all of his strength, he managed to move it an inch. “Can you move?”
The boy stopped moaning and pushed up onto his elbows. He managed to move a few inches. The battle faded around them as hope shone on his face. After a few minutes of sweating and grunting, he pulled free.
Jonah released his hold on the mast with relief. Placing an arm around the boy, he helped him stand. “Is it broken?”
The boy shook his head.
“Praise God.”
They limped together to the edge. The black water of the river was full—bobbing heads, debris, oil. Jonah took a deep breath, pushed the boy, and jumped. Water closed around his head, and the whine of bullets whizzed past him. Fear pushed him forward. Something slammed against his legs, catching him and trying to drag him under. Then another obstacle hit his shoulders, his chest, his head. Jonah couldn’t tell any longer which direction he should be swimming. His lungs ached to breathe. It was done. Fear was replaced by sadness that he had failed to do so many things.
“Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.” The promise brought peace and acceptance to Jonah as he lost consciousness.
Camellia thought Thad was as handsome in regular clothes as when he donned his uniform. But on this voyage, he was in disguise. If the packet they were traveling on was stopped by Union forces, he would appear to be nothing more than an escort for his sister and her. Of course anyone searching his bags would know better, but that was a remote possibility since this portion of the river was still controlled by the Confederacy.
She watched the way he sipped coffee from a china cup. His exceptional manners were apparent even in this prosaic setting. Their breakfast came without frills—black coffee, dry biscuits, and a piece of jerked pork that Camellia had no intention of touching. She crumbled the edge of her cold biscuit with a thumb and finger. “When should we arrive in Memphis?”
“Later than I had hoped.” He set down his cup and smiled in her direction. “The captain delayed our departure because of a rumor that the Union navy is headed this way.”
Jane pushed her plate to one side, apparently as unimpressed as Camellia with the plain fare. “I hope we have not made a mistake to leave Mama alone in Vicksburg.”
“I worry about her, too.” Thad’s brows lowered. “But she was quite insistent.”
Silence enveloped them. Camellia wondered about her own family. The reports from Natchez were encouraging … as encouraging as possible considering they were in the hands of the enemy. Since the town had surrendered without a fight, most homes were safe. No casualties, no injuries. While a part of her wished the city council had not given up so easily, she was relieved at the lack of bloodshed.
Shouts from outside drew her attention to the window. Crewmen ran back and forth, pointing at something in the river.
She pushed her chair back and stood, aware that both Thad and Jane had done the same. “What’s happened?”
“I have no idea.” Thad strode to the door and opened it.
Camellia and Jane stood immediately behind him, both trying to hear what was being said.
Someone was in the river.
“We have to help the poor soul.” She tried to push past Thad.
“Wait, Camellia.” Thad put a hand on her arm. “This could be a ruse to draw passengers out where they can be picked off by sharpshooters in the woods.”
Her heart faltered, but then she frowned. “If that’s the case, it seems they would have picked off a few of the crewmen already.” Pulling her arm free of his grip, Camellia stepped to the edge of the boat. What she saw made her stomach heave. A gray uniform was draped across a large tree trunk floating in the water. The poor soldier’s head hung down, hiding his face, but she would recognize those distinctive auburn curls anywhere. She ran to one of the crewmen who had a boat hook in his hand. “Please help him. I know that man.”
“What?” Thad had followed her outside.
“Yes.” She pointed at the form as it drew even with the boat. “That’s Jonah Thornton.”
The captain shouted an order to halt the boat while the crewman snagged Jonah’s sleeve.
Camellia winced as they dragged his limp body aboard. Was he dead? Her heart stopped beating at the thought. He couldn’t be dead. Half-forgotten prayers surfaced as the men laid him on his back. Jonah’s face was as white as fish scales, and his eyelids remained closed. Was he breathing?
Ignoring her hoops, Camellia dropped to the deck next to him and took Jonah’s cold hand in her own. “Bring me some blankets.” She put her head against his chest and listened, not daring to draw a breath for fear of missing some evidence of life.
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Dimly, slowly, his heartbeat sounded. He was alive.
“Thank You, God,” she whispered as someone spread a blanket over him.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jane stood next to her. “Is he dead?”
Camellia shook her head. She didn’t see any evidence of a gunshot wound. “His heart’s beating.”
Thad pulled her up and took her place on the deck, sliding his arms under Jonah’s shoulders. “Someone take his legs. Let’s get this man to a bed.”
Camellia and Jane followed him, their hands linked.
“What on earth is Jonah doing here?” Jane’s question echoed her own. “And why is he in uniform? I thought he wasn’t the fighting type.”
If he had decided to join the army, he certainly wouldn’t have joined the Confederacy. Not when his convictions had led him to spy on his friends and neighbors. He was a traitor. His uniform was more likely a disguise to allow him to infiltrate new areas and send vital information to the Union. She should be glad he was wounded. In fact, she ought to be hoping for his demise. But though Camellia considered herself a patriot, she could not go that far.
Thad carried Jonah into a room reserved for passengers. “You girls stay out here.”
Camellia opened her mouth to argue, but seeing the look on Thad’s face, she remained silent.
“Trust me. I’ll take care of your friend and let you know how he’s doing.” He kicked the door closed.
Jane pulled on Camellia’s hand. “Let’s go back upstairs. Maybe we can learn more about what’s going on while Thad sees to Jonah.”
They climbed the stairs to the main deck. Only a handful of passengers had joined them on this trip. They stood in a cluster at the bow of the boat, whispering and pointing at something in the water. Did someone else need to be rescued?
Camellia stepped to the rail, relieved when she saw that a small fishing boat had pulled up alongside the packet. “What’s going on?”
“There’s been a huge battle at Memphis.” A man with a large mustache pulled off his spectacles and wiped them with a handkerchief before continuing. “The Confederate navy was scuttled in little more than an hour.”
Jane gasped, and Camellia felt like crying. Their hope for a safe harbor had been snatched from them once again. What would they do now?
Chapter Twenty-four
No doctor traveled with them, so nursing their half-drowned passenger fell to Jane and Camellia. As the men discussed the next move to be taken, the two friends cleaned the scrapes and scratches on Jonah’s face and limbs. After an hour or so, Camellia sent Jane to find out what was going on while she stayed behind to watch over Jonah.
He was so still she could hardly believe he was still alive. Yet she could see the faint rise and fall of his chest under the bedcovers. If he would simply open his eyes and smile at her. Her anger and frustration faded away as she sat next to his bed and watched him breathe. She wanted him to wake up, if only so she could turn him over to Thad.
That would serve Jonah right. While she might be able to admire him for standing up for his principles and joining the wrong side of the war, she could not understand how he could reconcile those same principles to the lies he’d told his family and friends while he spied on them. She could only conclude he had no principles at all. So why did she want him to awaken so desperately?
The door opened, and Jane entered. “They’ve decided to remain here for the rest of the day and await further news.”
Camellia wondered what they hoped to hear. Did they think the original report of complete defeat was wrong? The fishermen had seemed to her to have very detailed information about the battle just north of Memphis, including the number and names of the Union ironclads.
“How’s our patient?”
“Much the same.” Camellia dipped her cloth in a bowl beside the bed and wrung it out before placing it on Jonah’s forehead again. “He still won’t awaken.”
“Don’t worry.” Jane hugged her before slipping into the chair on the opposite side of Jonah’s bed. “He’s strong. I’m sure he’ll pull through.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Silence invaded the room. As the day wore on, Camellia prayed. She tried to bargain with God, but she could not think of anything to offer Him equal to Jonah’s life.
Jane cleared her throat. “You should get something to eat.”
“I’m fine.” The growl of her stomach belied her words, but Camellia ignored the sound. “Why don’t you take a break?”
The door opened, and Thad’s shoulders filled the space. “Is he any better?”
“He’s no worse,” Jane answered for both of them.
“Perhaps in his mind he’s still in the belly of the whale.”
Camellia looked up at Thad’s words. “Like Jonah in the Bible?”
Thad nodded. “Jonah of Nineveh spent three days and three nights there. Maybe your friend is frightened of waking up and finding himself swallowed alive. Maybe he’ll wake up in a few days all rested and ready to return to the fighting.”
Her heart took wing, and Camellia sent a grateful smile toward Thad. “I hope you’re right.”
He held out a hand to her. “I’m sure that’s all it is. We found no sign of a serious injury. Jonah Thornton is just showing us how stubborn he is.”
Camellia allowed him to pull her up.
“I think it’s time you took a break.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know that very well, Miss Camellia Anderson.” He smiled down at her. “Few women would expend so much energy over an unresponsive soldier. You’re a shining example of patience and hope. But even though you are very fine indeed, I believe you should come with me now for a walk around the deck. Jane will let us know if Jonah’s situation changes.”
Allowing herself to be pulled out of the room was a little like departing from her family when she left to attend finishing school. But she knew Thad was right. She had been stooped over Jonah’s bed for hours. With one last glance at his pale face, she turned and left on Thad’s arm. As she walked, the knots and kinks in her back, arms, and chest began to loosen. “Have you any more news?”
“Yes, and it’s not good.”
Camellia felt her worries descend once more. “What will we do? Where can we go that is safe?”
“The captain has an idea about that.” He patted the hand resting on his arm. “Are you familiar with Jacksonport in Arkansas?”
She shook her head. “Where is it?”
“It’s on the White River. We’ll overnight here and return south tomorrow to the place where the White River empties into the Mississippi. As soon as we leave the main course of the river, I think we’ll be safer. Although we’ll have to take our time and make sure the Yankees haven’t gotten ahead of us once more, it should be an uneventful voyage. And the advantage is that the passengers can disembark there. I can join the forces in Jacksonport and return to my duties knowing you and Jane are safe.”
Camellia nodded. Perhaps Jacksonport boasted a doctor who would know how to treat Jonah’s injuries.
As though he could read her mind, Thad sent a keen glance in her direction. “I know you and Jane are not experienced nurses, but I appreciate your efforts with Mr. Thornton. Who knows? One day I may be the unconscious soldier in need of care.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss on it. “I would like to think it might come from someone as lovely and caring as you.”
Blushing, Camellia looked away. If only Thad realized what kind of man Jonah really was, he’d probably throw him back into the river. But she couldn’t tell him what she knew about Jonah. The information she was hiding from Thad was like a wall between them. A wall she wasn’t sure she wanted to breach.
The little packet crept around the curves in the river, sliding down its length like a snake, taking to the bayous whenever other boats were spotted.
Camellia kept watch over Jonah, but he remained unchanged. This morning Jane had brought her sewing basket with her a
nd was even now busily plying her needle. Wishing for something to divert her own attention, Camellia decided to go look for writing paper and a pen. She could send word to her family of her whereabouts so they wouldn’t worry.
“I’ll be back in a few moments.” She spoke in a normal voice. Perhaps they were being too quiet in the room since they wanted Jonah to awaken.
Jane nodded.
Camellia walked down the passageway of the small boat and decided to take a turn on the lower deck to breathe some fresh air. The river here was so wide it looked like a long lake. Oak, walnut, sweet gum, and magnolia trees shaded the banks, their wide trunks making a convenient cover for their boat. Of course, they also provided excellent hiding places for ambushes. Even though the day was warm, her thoughts made the skin on her arms prickle.
“We’re about to reach the mouth of the White River.” Thad’s deep voice made her jump. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
A giggle threatened to escape, but Camellia managed to choke it down. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s just so quiet. I was thinking about soldiers hiding in the woods with their rifles trained on us.” She leaned against the rail and tried to see past the wall of hardwoods.
Thad moved closer, his arm brushing hers.
A tingle that had nothing to do with warfare spread from her fingers upward, and Camellia caught her breath. Was she actually beginning to feel something truly romantic for Thad?
If he noticed, he said nothing.
They stood that way for several minutes, neither speaking, as the river widened even further. The riverboat turned westward and poured steam into its engines to break free of the Mississippi’s powerful current. After several moments, the water narrowed, the trees closing in on either side of them.
A crewman appeared with a sounding weight and began taking readings, calling out the depths in a distinct voice so the captain could avoid shallows and sandbars. From having watched her own father on Lily’s steamship, Camellia knew this captain would also be keeping an eye out for snags formed by fallen trees and floating debris.
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