The Sun Rises (Southern Legacy Book 4)

by Hines, Jerri

  Chapter Eight

  August, 1864

  Mobile Bay

  “Captain! It’s going right at the Hartford!”

  Turning quickly, Cullen surmised the signal quartermaster’s assessment was correct. Through the thick, acrid smoke, the dreaded ironclad ram, the CSS Tennessee, emerged. The determined Southern vessel was surviving the constant duress on its assault toward the Union flagship, flying the Rear Admiral Farragut’s blue pennant.

  On the deck of the USS Itasca, the fighting sailors ran furiously to load and reload the guns. Their efforts were made harder from the barrage of fire from the forts and enemy ships. Clanks of the slings and relieving tackles resounded on the deck. The smoke was so dense, visibility was only a matter of yards. Nevertheless, the shadow of the CSS Tennessee loomed closer.

  The Union fleet had taken a beating. Already Cullen had witnessed the unbelievable sight of the sinking of the USS Tecumseh. It had crashed into one of the dreaded torpedoes planted in the harbor while chasing after the formidable CSS Tennessee. After the explosion, confusion followed. The crew watched the inconceivable—the USS Tecumseh standing on her bow straight down in the water. Less than a minute after her stern raised high in the air, she disappeared into the sea. For a moment, all eyes gazed on the sight, knowing they, too, could share a similar fate.

  Rear Admiral Farragut gave no one a chance to contemplate the loss. He swept the USS Hartford through the waters, right into the Bay. Taking the lead, the commander’s call rang out: “Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead!”

  Cullen swore under his breath, knowing the waters were filled with torpedoes. Holding to the faith he held in Farragut, Cullen directed his ship to follow. With a glance over his shoulder, he saw that none of the fleet had faltered…staying the course. Through the barrage of shelling, smoke, and haze, he caught sight of the flag that flew above him, waving proudly…standing firm.

  Suddenly, the question of why he had chosen the path he had…holding to the Union…was answered as he watched the stars and stripes flying. There was power in the red, white, and blue. He felt it radiate through him. He fought for the country he loved. His heart filled with faith in his cause and that his purpose was just.

  Through the chaos and confusion, the CSS Tennessee reached the USS Hartford. Cullen screamed orders. Water sprayed over him from the constant bombardment. A pulley broke off and swung down. Cullen barely ducked in time.

  “Straight ahead, Mr. Decker.”

  “Aye, sir!”

  Cullen pushed his vessel alongside the CSS Tennessee’s stern. “Fire in succession and fire low!”

  The eleven-inch guns were no more than ten to fifty yards from their objective. Alongside the USS Chickasaw, the guns fired again and again. Smoke rose from the battle explosions of dozens of cannons firing rapidly with devastating accuracy.

  Through the smoke, a white flag emerged over the once mighty CSS Tennessee. Her stack was completely shot off; the steering chains destroyed. The battle was over in Mobile Bay.

  * * * *

  Captain Cullen Smythe stood on the main deck. The ship would dock soon enough. He would be in Washington before nightfall. Exhausted, he drank in the salt air. This he would miss—the feel of the sea beneath him. His three-month leave would begin the moment he set foot on dry land, but his intention to resign had already been made.

  He had done his service to the country. He had a medal of honor to prove it for his part in the Battle of New Orleans. Moreover, Rear Admiral D.G. Farragut had given his blessing before Cullen’s departure.

  “Go home. We have done all we can do now. You have served with distinction,” Farragut dismissed him.

  Under Farragut’s command, Cullen had served with the Western Blockade. Two long, hard years, but they had been successful. First with the blockade of New Orleans, then Vicksburg, and now with the victory at Mobile. The South could not stand much longer.

  Over the course of the war, he had seen changes in the navy. Although the Confederates would go down in defeat—of that Cullen was certain—their ideas, engineering of their ships would be duplicated with the Union fleet. Gone were the days of the glory of the wooden ships. Ironclads had shown their military value.

  Mobile Bay had long been in Farragut’s sight and with the appointment of Ulysses S. Grant as Supreme Army commander, Farragut got his wish. Grant prepared to take the heart out of the South. Already, Sherman began his march toward Atlanta.

  Cullen had served as a man possessed. Farragut had respected Cullen’s fearless approach, courage, and bravery. Cullen’s commander hadn’t cared why…why Cullen had thrown caution to the wind or that Cullen fought like he had nothing to lose.

  No one knew Cullen had tried desperately to get Josephine out of his head…and his heart. Over time, his heart had hardened; he hated Josephine as intensely as he once loved her. She had kept his son from him, denied him his right to claim him openly…and refused to leave Wade for him.

  For the last eight months, Cullen had known Percival was safe with his grandfather. It had relieved his mind, especially now that the South was feeling the wrath of the Union. Less than a month had passed since he had gotten word of all that had transpired at Jo’s trial. He hadn’t gone into much detail with Farragut, but he had told him he needed to return to deal with a family issue.

  On the last day of August, 1864, Cullen’s eyes soaked in the sight before him— Washington. He had only a few issues to take care of at the state department and then he was headed to Philadelphia, his attention solely on his son.

  * * * *

  “What has happened to you, Cullen?”

  Cullen shrugged as he poured himself a drink. “Would you like another? I find that I might indulge this evening. Tomorrow I go and see my son.”

  Hugh had met him down at the docks. In high spirits, Hugh had immediately taken Cullen to his quarters in Washington at a boarding house. He had been lucky to find an apartment with the shortage of housing in the city.

  “You heartless son of a bitch! I have waited quite impatiently for your return. I have done everything you requested and now you are going to walk away from her. Have you any idea…?” Hugh struggled to find his words.

  Cullen had never seen Hugh so angry, but it mattered little to him. He gulped down his whiskey and poured another. “I have an idea that my son had been kept from me. She can rot in prison for all I care.”

  Shocked, Hugh’s hands closed on the chair in front of him and thrust it to the side. He fumed. “You put her there!”

  “If she wants to become a martyr, it is not my problem. I’m sure there is a place in Heaven for her. Some women are callous, cold-blooded creatures. Those you know how to deal with. It is the ones such as Josephine that you have to be leery of…she holds to her goodness and honor. She reels you into her web. She is the worst kind of woman.”

  Color rushed to Hugh’s face. “You can stand there with a clear conscience…you who put her in this position to begin with! I took her to protect your damn scheme! To protect your home from destruction! To protect your family in the South. What if she talks? All will be for nothing!”

  Cullen laughed. “If she was going to say a word, it would have already been plastered in every Southern paper. I know her. She won’t say a damn word to protect the same home and same family honor. She doesn’t want anyone to think she would betray the South. All is for her own gain, I assure you.”

  “Oh, yes,” Hugh sarcastically spouted off. “She has plans of glory. She had it all planned out. She planned for you to use a system of spies on her plantation and to be discovered. She planned to be arrested to keep her silent. You do realize that Percival and Madeline were with her when she was taken into custody. I suppose you didn’t hear that they nearly starved and froze to death when they first arrived in Washington.

  “To keep prying eyes from her, she was placed under guard at a secret location…even from me! The war department was in such chaos they lost her paperwork for days before I found
them. She gave her food to the children. She had no heat. Yes, she sat in her glory in a filthy six-by-ten room with two small hungry children. When I finally found her, Madeline was sick with a fever. So to further her newfound glory, she gave up her precious children to your father.

  “She was transferred to the Old Capitol Prison…prison, Cullen! For over eight months, she has held to the little dignity that is afforded her in her cell. She has been beaten and the one thing she held dear to her they stole from her. Go, visit her, Cullen, and tell me that she has done all for herself. You God damn imbecile!”

  Cullen sat the glass down, but his hand gripped it tightly. “What do you mean she was beaten and starved? Who would treat a lady in that manner?”

  “The guards, you fool!” Hugh’s cold eyes fixed on Cullen. “They thought her the enemy. The sergeant in charge of the unit stole her wedding ring before she was transferred. She fought for it. She was beat up for her efforts. They delayed her court appearance because of her black eye and bruises, but they were apparent even days later. Do you have any idea what she has been thrust into? Do you care?”

  “Did they…?”

  “Rape her?” Hugh answered for him. “No. Now Superintendent Wood has been put in charge of her care. She is in solitary because she isn’t allowed to talk to anyone. Cullen, you didn’t see what they did to her and the children. The baby is not quite two and she has been ripped from her mother’s arms for over eight months because of me, because of Andrew, and because of you. Your son has not had his mother!”

  Cullen scowled. “War is hell, Hugh. It is for everyone.”

  “But not by me. I have fought honorably. I know only that she saved Mitchell. I know that I’m the one who took her from her home when she pleaded for me to let her stay. She told me she wouldn’t say anything, but do you know what was in the back of my mind? Do you want to know, Cullen?” Hugh snapped.

  Staring at his outraged friend, Cullen made no reply and shook his head in denial.

  “I thought I was doing you a favor.” He laughed a cynical laugh. “I realized I couldn’t take a chance on leaving her, but I thought all would end well. I thought you two could reunite now that she is free. She told me that you hated her. I didn’t believe her. I made a huge mistake, but this I promise you, Cullen. If you don’t make this right, I will.”

  * * * *

  When Captain Cullen Smythe started his morning, the sky had been cloudless. When he stepped outside after his meeting in the late afternoon, gray clouds covered the sun. The wind smelled of rain. He hoped he would accomplish his intention before it descended.

  He had expected this morning would have gone quicker. A sudden impatience bothered him. Secretary Welles had been quite thorough in his briefing. Cullen learned the use of Magnolia Bluff had been invaluable, that had been a certainty.

  Josephine was another matter.

  “I don’t like locking up innocent people, but we didn’t have much of a choice. In this situation, Captain, I feared that she would say something that would endanger the mission. We both know the consequences if that happened.”

  “Magnolia Bluff is safe from looting and burning from the Union forces as agreed?”

  “Yes, Captain. It has been arranged that Dr. Montgomery will post a sign saying the plantation is being used as a hospital for typhoid fever when we make our presence known. It should divert attention away from seemingly preferential treatment from us damn Yankees.”

  “Secretary, I realize the issues Josephine presents, but I have serious concerns about keeping a mother from her children. Moreover, do not forget she saved Mitchell, reluctantly, but she saved him nonetheless. She is a lady whose only crime is being loyal to her home. I would like her immediate release.”

  “I would love to do so, but I can’t simply dismiss the concerns surrounding the issue at hand or I would have already done so. She has to concede to silence.”

  “I believe I can take care of your objection, Secretary.”

  “Then be quick about it, Captain. Tell me—what is your solution?”

  ****

  The agreement about Josephine’s release had been made. Now, Cullen had only to convince Josephine. Hugh had offered to come with him, but this was something he had to do on his own.

  In front of the Old Capitol Prison, Cullen exited the carriage and straightened his coat. “Wait,” he instructed the coachman, handing him a token. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Cullen reached into his coat pocket and pulled the papers out as he walked up the front steps of the sprawling multistoried building. An ill-fitted uniformed sentry opened the door for him.

  “I have come to speak with Superintendent Wood.” Cullen glanced around. He had heard the horrors of prison life during the war and given what most prisoners of war were enduring, this wasn’t the worst by far. But still—the thought of Josephine being housed in this place…

  “This way, Captain,” the sentry with pocked-mark skin called to him. Cullen followed across the creaking old floor. From an open door on the left, a voice barked, “In here, Captain Smythe.”

  “Come in, come in. Superintendent Wood.” He extended his hand to Cullen. “I only just received word of your coming. I have to say I’m happy she is being released. It has put a lot upon me to keep her as I had been ordered…” His voice faded as he glanced up at Cullen’s sullen face.

  Wood breathed in deeply and accepted Josephine’s release papers. “You brought the necessary orders. Good.” He studied them only for a moment and pulled out a ledger. “Sign here and I’ll have you escorted upstairs to retrieve the prisoner.”

  Cullen nodded. The quicker the better. He followed a sergeant up the stairs. The drafty, creaking building smelled, a mixture of sorts, disinfectant and foul odor… Heaven knew what else. On the second floor landing, a curt guard sat on a stool outside a room.

  “Arty,” the sergeant called out. “She’s going home. Open up.”

  The guard knocked loudly on the door. He put his hand out. “Give her a minute. Always have to. It ain’t proper.”

  Cullen wanted to push the door in. He didn’t have time for this. Finally, the guard slipped a key in the lock and swung the door back. He entered.

  A wave of guilt surged through Cullen. The cell was small with only a chair, a few books on the floor, and a slop jar to the far left. The unwashed window had no blinds or shades, but his eyes fixed on the small cot. A slight figure sat with her knees pulled into her. Her head lifted as he moved toward her. Her eyes widened.

  By God, what had they done to the beautiful woman he had left behind! Her face was so thin. Her eyes had never seemed so large, but it was also the eyes that bothered him most. There was no light in them. “Josephine,” he uttered.

  “Captain, she don’t talk,” the guard offered. “In her sleep, sometimes she calls out for her babies.”

  Slowly, Cullen walked over to her.

  Josephine recoiled from his grasp.

  He reached over and pulled her to her feet. “I’m taking you out of here.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not giving in. I will never.” No sooner had Jo uttered the words, her legs buckled. She swayed and then fainted.

  Cullen picked her up. She was as light as a feather. He wasn’t going to waste time in this hellhole. He said nothing to anyone else and no one dared to counter his intent. He carried her out of the prison.

  * * * *

  Washington was a crowded city: government officials, officials from foreign embassies, soldiers—lots and lots of soldiers—and the families of those men inhabited the capital. Cullen felt fortunate to have obtained a suite at the Carrington Hotel.

  The carriage began to slow. He looked over at the unconscious Josephine, who fidgeted and grimaced as if in pain. Her eyes flittered, and then opened wide. She stared at him in silence, but did not seem surprised. He supposed she had expected him to show up eventually.

  Suddenly at a loss for words, he said, “We ar
e at the hotel.”

  Only then did she show her anxiety, nervously patting her dirty hair…her dress. “I can’t go in the front door,” she whispered. “Not like this.”

  “I’m sorry. We don’t have a choice.” He gave her no indication that a wave of sympathy swept through him. Her dress was somewhat clean, considering she had been sitting in a prison cell. But the smell of the place lingered on her. Her hair seemed plastered on her head in an unflattering manner. “No one will take notice. I will call for a bath immediately.” Instantly, he regretted the words.

  She glanced at him as if he had slapped her across the face.

  What was he supposed to say? He sighed impatiently as the carriage door opened. After he descended the steps, he offered Jo his hand.

  Cullen watched her call upon all her poise and dignity, bravely tilting her head back. He gave her his arm, but he had been wrong when he had told her no one would notice. Eyes fell upon Josephine in question. He patted her hand as he could hear whispers that joined the stares.

  The desk clerk moved in such a manner as to intercept Cullen.

  Thankfully, Hugh appeared at the counter at that precise moment. His arms filled with packages and a bouquet of flowers. “Don’t go there, good man. A room has already been procured for the lady, who has endured much these last few months. You don’t want to cause any problem with us, I assure you. You can send the manager, though. We do have a few requests,” Hugh cautioned the desk clerk and smiled over at Josephine. “You don’t know how good it is to see you. As you can tell, I have spent the morning accumulating necessities I felt you might need.”

  Hugh leaned over to Cullen. “We have two reporters looking for a story in the lobby. You need to get her upstairs as quickly as possible.” Hugh gave Cullen the necessary time to scuttle Josephine to the stairs, and then he paused the manager who had appeared. “Now, I believe the lady will require a bath and quite a large meal. We will be celebrating. It is a good day.”

  The manager looked confused but Hugh had handed him a few bills. Glancing down at his palm, a large grin formed. “I will see to everything.”