by Ginny Dye
Robert looked around, thinking that if the people of Wilmington lowered their standards a little, other people might not be so afflicted. He said nothing, though. He was playing just a small part in Davis’ plan, but if the scheme worked, the stranglehold on supplies to the South would be destroyed. Then no one would suffer.
“When do I meet Captain Bueller?” He was anxious to be on his way.
“I’ll take you to his ship in the morning. You’ll leave as soon as the time is right. The captain is anxious to be on his way. I don’t think you’ll have too long a wait.” Silas nodded at the bowls of food still in front of them. “You’ll want to eat up, boy. Captain Bueller isn’t one to take up a lot of space with food. He’s more interested in how much cargo he can take. It’s how he makes his living.”
Carrie smiled wearily at Hobbs as she climbed into the carriage. Janie followed her closely.
“How are the two fellows who got beat up?” Hobbs asked, looking around warily as Spencer gathered the reins and urged the horse forward.
Carrie smiled again, this time genuinely. “They will be fine. They’re still sore, and Jubal’s broken arms will take a while to heal, but they will recover.” She leaned back against the seat and then waved again to Pastor Anthony, who was still at the door to the hospital and watched them move down the road.
“Thank you for coming down here with us,” Carrie told Hobbs gratefully. “I have a feeling Robert didn’t give you much of a choice though, did he?”
Hobbs shook his head firmly, one hand resting on the rifle lying across his knee. “I told Robert a long time ago I would look after you. Then you and me became friends. That just gave me more reason to make sure you stay safe. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you and Miss Janie as long as I’m around.”
Carrie looked at Hobbs tenderly. At twenty-one, she was only a few years older than he was, but his youthful appearance made him seem much younger. Warren Hobbs had the fierce loyalty common to mountain farmers. She knew he would lay down his life in a second for either her or Robert. Robert had asked him to accompany Carrie when she went down to the black hospital. Hobbs was already invaluable to her at Chimborazo where he acted as one of her ward assistants. He took his newest duty with solemn seriousness.
Still, Carrie was nervous as she peered into the dark shadows. Was Pickett waiting there with his friends? It was no secret which days she came to the hospital.
“Do you see anything?” Janie asked anxiously.
Carrie shook her head and forced herself to settle back. Her nervousness wouldn’t help any of them. She struggled to control her shudder. She had been having nightmares ever since Robert left. Without his protective embrace to shield her from frightening thoughts, the dreams haunted every sleeping moment. They were all the same. Pickett and his men killing Spencer and then coming after her - their hideous laughter taunting her just before they grabbed her. She had almost been too afraid to come down today but had finally scorned herself into facing her fear.
The ride back to the house passed uneventfully. Had Pickett seen Hobbs and his rifle and decided it wasn’t worth the risk? Carrie was relieved beyond words when the carriage rolled up to her father’s house.
Janie turned to Spencer. “Could you come in the house for a minute? I could use your help with something.”
“Sure nuff, Miss Janie,” Spencer said obligingly. “What you need?”
“Micah is waiting inside for you. I would like the two of you to move my things back into Carrie’s room,” she said firmly.
Spencer nodded easily and swung up the walk.
Janie turned to Carrie before she could say anything. “You are not staying in that room alone another night. I can tell you haven’t had a good night’s sleep since Robert left. I’ve heard your cries. You’re having nightmares, aren’t you?” she demanded.
Carrie fought her tears. “I’m such a silly weakling,” she said scornfully.
“Nonsense!” Janie snapped but then reached forward to hug her. “It will be good for me, too. I miss our late night talks. I promise to move back to my room like a good girl when Robert gets home.”
“Oh, Janie,” Carrie cried. “Do you think I was silly not to go to London?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. You did what you felt you had to. That’s what I love about you, Carrie Cromwell. You’re not afraid to live your convictions. Even when it hurts.” Janie stepped back. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”
Carrie was startled awake by another nightmare. Bolting forward in bed, she glanced over at Janie. Her friend continued to sleep soundly. She must not have cried out this time. Shaking her head to cast away the images, Carrie rose quietly and walked to the window.
It was a beautiful night, a crescent moon perched on the horizon, its shimmering sliver hanging as if suspended on an invisible thread. A soft breeze rustled the leaves and fanned her hair away from her hot face. She sank down onto the window seat and rested her head against the frame.
As she gazed east, she realized her dreams carried her far beyond Cromwell Plantation. Now they transported her out onto the Atlantic Ocean, with her searching for the ship that carried the love of her life. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the ache of missing Robert flooded her. Her breath came in shallow gasps.
She felt Janie touch her shoulder gently. “Let it out, Carrie. Let it all out.”
Sobs shaking her body, Carrie turned and fell into her friend’s arms. “I was a fool!” she cried. “I was a fool not to go!” She clinched her fist and slammed it against the window frame. “I could be with Robert right now. I don’t care about the hospital! I don’t care about sick people! I don’t care about being a doctor. I just want to be with Robert,” she gasped, gulping to catch her breath.
Janie said nothing, just held her tight. Carrie didn’t know how long she cried before she began to gain control of her tears. Finally she sat back.
Janie stroked her hair back from her flushed face. “It’s okay, Carrie. It’s okay,” she murmured.
“It’s not okay!” Carrie cried. “Don’t you understand? I can’t catch a train and go join him. He’s probably halfway across the Atlantic now. I have no idea when I’ll see him again!” The tears threatened to gain control again. “He’s my husband. I should be with him!”
“That’s enough,” Janie said firmly. “No one but you can say whether your decision was right or wrong. It doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s been made. Now you have to live with the consequences of it.” Her voice softened. “You did what you thought was best, Carrie. Robert respected your decision just as you’ve respected his decisions in the past.”
Carrie gulped back her tears and tried to listen.
Janie settled back on the window seat. “Grandma Alice used to tell me God can use a bad decision just as much as a good decision. She figured God didn’t turn his back on someone when they made a bad choice. He just got to work figuring out how to make good come from it.”
“God makes me so angry sometimes,” Carrie cried suddenly.
“Angry?” Janie asked carefully.
Carrie nodded. “He knows I’ll do whatever he wants me to. It’s just figuring it out that’s so blamed hard. I felt so right about my decision not to go to London. Now I’m so afraid I made the wrong decision. And now it’s too late to change it. If God wanted me to go to London, why didn’t he make it clearer?”
“If I were God, I would tell you,” Janie said calmly. “Since I’m a mere mortal, I’m afraid I have no answer to that.” She paused. “What would Old Sarah have told you?”
Just the mention of Old Sarah’s name brought a smile to Carrie’s lips. “She would have told me that thin’s just ain’t as black or white as we want them to be,” she said softly, slipping into the slave lingo. “She’d have told me God can redeem anythin’ if I just give it to him.” She turned to stare out the window again. “She’d have tole me I was lettin’ fear win out. That fear ain’t a bad thin’ till it takes control of your heart.”
&
nbsp; The breeze picked up, swirling the curtains around her. Carrie leaned farther out the window with her relishing the feel of the wind against her face. She closed her eyes and let it sweep through her soul and blow away the cobwebs of fear and doubt.
Finally she pulled back in and turned to Janie. “I may never know whether I was supposed to go to London. But you’re right. I can’t change it. I have to deal with my life the way it is now.” She reached out and grabbed her friend’s hand. “I’m so glad I have you to share everything with. Thank you.”
Robert leaned forward in the small skiff Silas was piloting and examined the ship in front of them. He had learned quite a bit about boats from a college friend whose family had been in the shipbuilding business. It took only a moment to realize the war had advanced ship technology faster than anything had in years. “What’s her name?” he called back to Silas.
“That’s the Phantom,” Silas yelled forward. “Built just this year,” he added proudly.
“She’s a beauty,” Robert responded, then leaned forward to inspect her. The Phantom was a slender, low, side-wheel steamer. From all indications he guessed she weighed about 500 tons, her length about nine times her beam. Her lead color blended with the ocean perfectly.
“The Phantom burns anthracite coal,” Silas offered. “The stuff makes no smoke at all. Why you don’t even know she’s nearby until you’re within a hundred yards or so. You won’t have any trouble on board that beauty.”
Robert had no trouble believing him. He had never seen such a fine specimen of a ship. He was eager to get on board and look around. Captain Bueller had a boat to be proud of.
Silas had pulled him out of bed before the sun was even up. He had two horses tied up outside the inn where Robert had stayed. After several hours of riding, they were met by two men with this boat. The Phantom was anchored in a narrow inlet of the Cape Fear River and completely hidden from sight.
“Who goes there?” a strong voice rang out cheerfully. “Silas, is that you, you old goat?”
“Aye, and I got me a spry young buck with me,” Silas yelled back. “Pull her alongside, boys!”
Robert was surprised to find himself standing in front of a man he guessed not to be more than a few years older than he himself. Robert had expected the captain of a ship such as the Phantom to be much older.
“Robert Borden? Nice to meet you.”
Robert recognized the clipped accent at once. “You’re British, Captain Bueller?”
“Something wrong with that?” he asked sharply.
“Not at all,” Robert said quickly. “I guess I’m just surprised.”
Captain Bueller grinned and slapped him on the back. “Welcome aboard, Robert. Hang around the blockade-running squadron long enough, and you’ll discover most of us are British. Next you’ll discover that almost all the boats confounding the Union navy are British built. My government might not officially recognize yours, but that’s no reason to turn down the offer to help a good cause.”
“And make a healthy profit in the meantime,” Silas added dryly.
“That, too,” Captain Bueller agreed easily.
Robert inspected him closer. They were about the same height, but there the similarities ended. The captain had a thick shock of blond hair over his blazing blue eyes. A reddish-blond beard stood out against his deeply tanned skin. Powerful shoulders and hands spoke of years at sea. He was not exactly handsome, but Robert suspected the man commanded attention wherever he went.
“Do I pass inspection?” the captain asked.
Robert flushed. “It’s just that you’re not what I expected.”
“Good. I hate living up to people’s expectations. It’s always best to keep them guessing. You’ll learn that out here.” Captain Bueller turned and snapped orders to his crew. “Mr. Borden is our last passenger. We leave tonight. Prepare the ship.” Then he turned back to Robert. “Come up top with me. I’ll fill you in on what to expect. If we’re lucky, we’ll sneak right through that Union blockade out there. If we’re unlucky, we’ll have one whale of a good time and have a lot to write home about.” He threw back his head and laughed heartily.
Robert joined in, his liking of the captain growing by the minute.
Bueller started talking as soon as they reached the top deck. “You’ll only be with me until we reach Nassau. It will probably take three or four days if all goes well. From there you’ll load onto a much bigger vessel to cross the ocean to England.” He gazed over his ship. “They started making these babies when it was obvious something much faster was needed to outwit the Yankees. I’ve been through the blockade with the Phantom three times now. Union boats only saw me once. They never came close,” he grinned proudly, rubbing his hands together. “I foresee a long, profitable career ahead. At least until the Union navy catches up with our technology. Or as long as your boys can keep the ports open,” he admitted wryly.
Robert listened, fascinated. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since just after the war started and Lincoln ordered the blockade. Mother England needed your cotton. You needed our money and goods. It was a match made in heaven. The first year of the blockade was a joke,” he snorted. “I could have slipped through it with my eyes closed. The Yanks didn’t have a chance patrolling over 3,000 miles of shoreline. Especially shoreline like this, with all the inlets and shifting sand.”
“And now?”
“And now it’s more difficult,” he admitted. “More of a challenge.” The gleam in his eyes showed that he enjoyed it. He frowned slightly. “The Union navy has undergone a lot of change. They’ve put hundreds more ships in operation. They are retiring the old, slow wooden vessels and manufacturing a new kind of boat just to stop us. They’re sending out a fleet of thousand ton sloops-of-war armed with thirty-two pounders.” He shook his head. “So far I’ve been lucky. They’re also developing their own fleet of boats like this to try to stop us. They’re armed with twenty-four pound howitzers and patrol the rivers and bays.”
Robert gulped and stared out over the water. “I see.”
Captain Bueller laughed again. “Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. There are always ways to get through. He who knows the game best will always win. And I know the game,” he boasted confidently.
“Why are you doing it?” Robert asked quietly. He wanted to know more about this man he sensed could become a friend.
“Money,” Bueller said flatly. He looked at Robert closely. “I suppose I should say I’m doing it to aid the glorious cause of the South,” he said wryly. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “I’m on your side. I don’t think the North has a right to dictate what you can and can’t do. I hate slavery, but I’m enough of a free spirit to think you should be allowed to make your own decisions. On the other hand,” he continued honestly, “my thinking you’re in the right would hardly be enough to make me risk my life for people who live in a country I’ve never visited until the last two years.”
He turned to scan the horizon carefully. Satisfied, he turned back. “I do it because I can make more money in one month than I could make my whole life back in England serving in the Royal Navy. I’ve also discovered I can spend more in one month than I might have in my entire life,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve become rather addicted to my lifestyle.” He shrugged his powerful shoulders. “So I continue to run the blockade.”
Robert wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t find it offensive that the captain had mercenary motives. If there weren’t men like him, the South would probably have already folded. European supplies were the South’s very lifeblood.
“I’m not a total mercenary,” Captain Bueller added. “I do it for the adventure as well. Things were getting rather boring in Old England. Haven’t had a good war in a while. So I took leave from the Navy and came to play games with the Union. Whatever I may be, I’m definitely not bored.”
Robert laughed. “I like you, Captain Bueller,” he announced suddenly. “Thank you for having me on bo
ard your ship.”
“I like you too, Robert Borden. As I said, you’re welcome on the Phantom.” He turned away to examine some charts. “If you’ll excuse me now, I have work to do before we leave tonight.”
CHAPTER TEN
Robert was talking quietly with his two traveling companions when Captain Bueller called them together. He was glad for the distraction. He had found the two older men more than slightly boring. He had no idea why they were headed to London, and he was not about to reveal his own mission. If they could have talked honestly, they may have found more ground for communication, but circumstances demanded discretion. Robert was glad he would only have to share their company for a few days.
“We’ll be casting off soon,” Captain Bueller announced. “I find my passengers handle things better if they have some understanding of what we might encounter. Since I am not interested in having panicked men on my boat, I’d like you to listen carefully.”
Robert was amused at the offended looks on his companions’ faces. Making no effort to hide the smile playing around his lips, Captain Bueller exchanged a sardonic look with him.
“Once we reach the ocean,” the captain began in a commanding voice, “we will likely encounter two rows of blockading warships. The first line will be close to shore, just beyond the reach of the Confederate batteries stationed there. The second squadron will be patrolling some twenty to forty miles out. The first row will be hardest to run. Our low profile and high speed will pretty much guarantee we’ll slip by the outer line. They’ll probably never even know we’re in the area.”