This Rebel Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  Without waiting for a reply, she rushed on. "Now I think I understand why the captain stays hidden and refuses to show his face. He's either ashamed to mingle with decent folk or afraid that one of his men will put a well-deserved knife in his back!"

  The three officers gasped in unison, and her mother could only stare at her in stunned silence.

  Officer Garrís was the first to react. "Miss Marshal, you don't understand." He forced his tone to be gentle, trying to calm her. "If Captain Arnhardt weren't the strong commander he is, the Ariane would not be one of the best ships on the high seas. The men in our crew come from all walks of life. Some have murdered. Some have raped, robbed, performed all sorts of heinous, unspeakable crimes. But they make good sailors when they are controlled. It requires a man with an iron will to keep them in line. Captain Arnhardt is just such a man. True, some of the crew may fear and hate him, but while they would die before they'd admit it, they respect him."

  He paused, glanced about the table to make sure everyone had calmed down, then continued, "As for your not having met him, he does keep to himself. But believe me when I say that he is aware of everything that goes on aboard his ship, and while it may seem strange to you, there is actually no need for the two of you to meet. The captain never mingles with passengers."

  Pulling himself erect, he gave a forced smile to everyone and murmured, "Let's try to make the rest of your voyage a pleasant experience. For now, we have a delicious meal waiting."

  He snapped his fingers, and the cook's assistant disappeared through a swinging door to return almost immediately with a large tray. He placed bowls of stewed chicken, boiled potatoes, peas, and corn dumplings on the table. Then he left to bring back another tray, this one containing a kettle of savory-smelling mutton stew.

  "This does look tempting," Julie's mother laughed a bit nervously. "And if I know your cook, he'll have something equally scrumptious for dessert, so I'll have to save room."

  "Apple cobbler," the assistant murmured before scurrying out once again.

  The bowls were passed, and Officer Justice commented that they were blessed with an extraordinary cook. Edsel Garrís agreed. As Julie helped herself to a bowl of the mutton stew, her mother inquired how they had managed such a feat.

  Julie paid no attention to what was said. She was still angry, and refused to accept any attempts on their parts to include her in their conversation. They were treating her like a child.

  Damn Captain Ironheart anyway, she thought bitterly, chewing on the tender meat almost with a vengeance. This was her first experience at sea, and she wanted to enjoy it. She could remember standing on the banks of the Savannah River as a child, with Thomas and Myles beside her. The three of them would talk about what it must be like "out there," on the other side of the world. Childlike, they fantasized about their plans to run away one day. They would build a boat or a raft, just anything to keep them afloat, and they would sail off to the horizon and experience all the wonders of the world.

  Thomas. As always, thoughts of him brought a lump to her throat. Had it not been for his mother's sins, they would probably have married. Everyone thought they were an ideal match. He'd been so hurt by her rejection, and she prayed he never knew why. She heard he had joined the Confederate Army and gone off to fight in the war, and she prayed he was safe and well.

  Blinking back the tears that always came to her eyes when she thought of the past, she made herself think instead of Shad Harky, wondering if he were actually guilty of the crime for which he had been punished. He had seemed nice enough that first night, even though she had been a bit wary of being alone with him. That was only natural, she supposed. It was night, and they were in her cabin, unchaperoned. Since then, the few times she had managed to slip on deck, she had only glimpsed him from a distance, and while she could feel him looking at her, he always glanced away when she turned toward him, and never made any attempt to speak to her. Now she could understand why. Because of her, he'd had five cruel and painful lashes of the whip across his back. All over a friendly gesture—a pot of tea! He probably blamed her, and, by God, that wasn't fair.

  The men were discussing news they had managed to pick up from a passing ship that afternoon. The Ariane had sent a small boat over to the other vessel to gather any information it might have collected while in port in Bermuda. Edsel was talking about the Federal general named Sherman, who was reportedly in charge of the permanent garrison that had landed on Tybee Island near Savannah. "Mark my words. Fort Pulaski will fall before long," he said gravely. "It's only a matter of time. Savannah and all her ports will be lost to the Yankees."

  Julie turned to see her mother's face go pale as she cried, "Oh, to think they might march on Rose Hill...."

  The officers laughed, but not unkindly, and Officer Watson commented that she should not waste her time fretting over such a possibility. "The Yankees will have more important things on their minds than marching on plantations right away, Mrs. Marshal. They want Fort Pulaski, and that's their main objective and concern. Once they have control, they'll have a tight noose around the city. President Lincoln seems to think the way to win the war is to cut off the South from supplies, thereby starving the Confederacy into submission. That's why the Yankees have tried so hard to make their blockade successful. I'm afraid that when the fort does fall, it's going to be quite a blow to the South, both economically and psychologically."

  Floyd Justice nodded. "Be glad you aren't in Savannah. From what we hear, the situation is utter chaos. People are hysterical."

  "Oh, they were trying to flee the city while we were still there," Mrs. Marshal said worriedly. "Those who could afford to do so were moving inland."

  "It's that officer named Lee who ordered the abandonment of Georgia's sea islands," Edsel Garris said to no one in particular. "He was a commissioned officer in the United States Army when war broke out, you know, and when Virginia seceded, he resigned his commission to join the Confederacy. He's a Brigadier General in eastern Florida as well. I heard it said that the battle of Port Royal Sound made him see that without adequate naval support, it's impossible to defend small forts and batteries on the sea coast that fall within range of the Federal fleet's powerful guns."

  Mr. Justice nodded. "Right. He said it would be hopeless to prevent enemy landings on the beach islands unless thousands of troops were mobilized from other areas and ordered to garrison duty. These soldiers are badly needed in other theaters of war. So that's why he ordered the abandonment of the sea islands and had the guns removed from the batteries."

  Mr. Justice drained the last of his wine, then picked up the little silver bell that sat on the table and gave it a shake. The cook's helper appeared at once to refill his empty glass. He took a sip, then said, "The abandonment of Tybee is sure to make Cockspur vulnerable."

  "Not really." Mr. Garris pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his chair. Pulling out a corncob pipe, he proceeded to pack it with tobacco from the small leather pouch he withdrew from his coat pocket. The men were waiting anxiously for him to begin speaking once again, and Julie noticed her mother seemed to be hanging onto his every word. She wondered dismally if she had ever been so bored in her entire life.

  When he finally had the pipe drawing, and bluish smoke curls surrounded his head, Edsel continued to expound his ideas. "It's expected that the fort can defend itself successfully against a naval attack, and it's also considered safe from land bombardment. Did you know that all side channels leading into the Savannah River above the fort have been barred by obstructions to keep open a line of communications and supplies? And these obstructions have been protected by floating mines which are activated by galvanic batteries."

  Grover and Floyd exchanged incredulous looks, and Floyd cried, "I've never heard of such a thing. How do you come by such information?"

  Edsel looked smug. "The captain and I talk at night, and he confides many things to me. He keeps himself quite well informed, you know. These mines, or 'infernal machines,'
as they are sometimes called, are a new invention which the Confederates have sort of 'borrowed' from the Russians. But as for the blockade itself, the captain doesn't intend to try to run it through Savannah again. He says it's far too dangerous."

  Julie pushed away the plate of mutton stew, which she had hardly touched. Standing, she faked a yawn and murmured, "Excuse me, but I'm a bit tired and feel a headache coming on. I think I'll retire for the night."

  The three officers rose politely, clucking their sympathies, and her mother asked if she wanted her to join her, but Julie quickly urged her to stay and enjoy the company. "War talk bores me almost as much as this voyage, but I'm happy that you are able to enjoy both, Mother. At least you aren't miserable, too."

  She hurried from the room. Standing outside in the narrow hallway, she closed the door and leaned against it to hear whether anyone was going to follow to make sure she did go straight to her cabin. She heard Mr. Watson say, "I do hope we weren't too harsh on your daughter, Mrs. Marshal."

  "No, not at all," came here mother's quick reply. "I hope it did some good. It worries me because she's so restless. She's such a child, at times...."

  "I'd hardly call her a child," Mr. Justice laughed, and the other men chuckled along with him. "She's quite a beautiful young woman, and I'm sure you're very proud of her."

  Mr. Garris chimed in. "Indeed, but unfortunately she lacks knowledge of the harsher realities of life. Like so many of our other genteel southern ladies, I'm sure your daughter has been protected from unpleasantness."

  Julie made a face. She could tell them a few things about "unpleasantness" like that night in the woods with those savages.

  Her skirts swishing, she moved on down the hall, walked right by her cabin, and ascended the steps quickly. Reaching the deck, she smiled and stretched her arms high about her head, drinking in the cool, pungent salt air. Stepping cautiously over ropes and riggings, she moved to the railing and stood there, marveling at the sight of the shimmering water. A half-moon peered out from behind a silver-tinged cloud, making the rolling sea sparkle like thousands of tiny diamonds. Julie had grown used to the pitch and roll of the boat, the chugging motion as it jerked along, and now it seemed like a sweet sonata... fluid... melodic.

  She thought of Myles, how happy they used to be, and whispered a prayer for his safety as she did each night. She would not let herself think about her impending marriage, except to remember that Virgil had promised her he would use his influence to make it possible for her brother to return home. How she hoped it would be so.

  Then, lost in her world of beauty and tranquility of the moment, she forgot about the crewmen moving about silently in the darkness, performing their duties. She began to hum softly at first, and then the words came. Soon she was singing to the wind and the stars and the moon, her voice ringing out clearly and sweetly in the night. How she loved to sing; she had even harbored secret fantasies of one day actually being a professional. But that was part of another world, another time.

  She did not notice that the men had slowly stopped what they were doing and begun to gather behind her. They exchanged silent glances and nods of approval and appreciation for such a lovely voice. Only when she fell silent and they broke into loud, enthusiastic applause, was she aware of their presence.

  Whirling about, hands fastened behind her on the railing, she faced them and gasped, startled, "I'm sorry! I guess I forgot where I was...." She was flustered, embarrassed. "The ocean, the beautiful night, it just made me want to sing...."

  A stocky man stepped forward, a grin on his craggy face. "Lassie, how about another?" he asked hopefully.

  In the pale glow of moonlight which illumined the scene, he, like the others, seemed pleased over the break in their monotonous routine, and she felt they all seemed appreciative of her singing.

  Glancing to her left, Julie recognized Shad Harky's grotesquely scarred face, and a wave of sadness washed over her as she remembered he had received five lashes merely because he had extended a kindness to her. She nodded in recognition, and his mouth spread in a smiling grimace.

  He turned to the others and called out, "That was the prettiest thing we've heard in months, right, men? All we ever hear out here is the screamin' of sea gulls and the officers yelling their orders. So let's beg her to favor us with another."

  They shouted encouragement, coaxing her to sing for them again. "Please," someone called out.

  Beaming, happy, enjoying the moment after days and nights of unfamiliar confinement, Julie felt as though her very soul were smiling as she said demurely, "If you really want me to..."

  "We do! We do!" another voice called.

  "Lassie, we beg you...."

  "Lovely... just lovely..."

  And while she stood there, stunned, drinking in their praise, someone appeared with a fiddle. Stationing himself next to her at the railing, he began to play the lilting music of "Sweet Evalina."

  "I know that one," she cried joyfully, and with the fiddle, she began to sing once more. When she'd sung every verse, the fiddler went straight into "Juanita." Somewhere along the way, one of the sailors produced a flute and began playing along. Then there were two men with harmonicas as everyone joined in to sing "Bonnie Blue Flag."

  After each song, the air rang with applause and shouts from the crew for more. Julie became lost in her music, thrilling to their appreciation and enjoyment, heady with excitement. The men who had instruments went from song to song, and she knew almost all of them. If the words escaped her, she hummed along.

  The selections became livelier: "Arkansas Traveler"..."The Goose Hangs High." Then someone began to yell out the words to "Hell Broke Loose in Georgia." Some of the men paired off to dance, jiglike, while Julie laughed and clapped her hands in childlike glee. Not only was she enjoying herself, but the pulsating thought rippled through her that they liked her singing, seeming truly appreciative.

  So entranced was she with the merriment surrounding her, Julie did not notice a forbidden jug of rum being passed about freely. The men were so caught up in the excitement that all thoughts that they were breaking ship rules were pushed from their minds. They danced to the fiddle and the flute and the harmonicas, and the sounds filled the night.

  Backed against the railing, Julie began to feel slightly uncomfortable. The songs were changing to bawdy tunes she did not know or like, and finally she realized the men were drinking and the scene was getting out of hand. Deciding it best to take her leave, she began to step sideways, only to bump into something.

  Lifting her eyes, she saw the leering gaze of Shad Harky.

  "You are a pretty one," he murmured, his voice slurring as he reached out to clamp a beefy hand upon her bare shoulder. She cringed beneath his touch, and he chuckled. "Ahh, you have no cause to be frightened of me. I'm your friend. I know how lonely you've been, cooped up below. We'll take a walk in the moonlight, and I'll show you how friendly I can be to a lovely lady...."

  "No!" She cried sharply, shaking her head from side to side. "I'm going below...."

  "Don't be shy. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't see. You know a real man when you see one. And you miss a man, don't you? Out here at sea, away from fancy balls and such, you're craving some excitement—some lovin'—and old Shad Harky's the man who can give it to you. Ask any filly I've ever bedded, and—"

  "No! Stop it!" Now she was truly frightened. Turning to run from the lurching, drunken man, she became confused as to her direction, and instead of making her way to the doorway that led below, she found her ankles tangled in riggings and ropes. She didn't know which way to turn, and was unable to move.

  Shad followed her. "Now don't be shy, missy. No need to be. I can tell by looking at you that you're a real spitfire, just waitin' for what I've got to give you...."

  Julie knew she had gotten herself into a dangerous situation. With all the noise the men were making, no one would hear her screams, and the way Shad was looking at her, she knew he meant business. St
riking out at him, she cried, "Leave me alone! Get away from me...."

  Reaching out to yank her from the entanglements around her ankles, he jerked her against his chest, and his mouth sought hers. She twisted her face from side to side, shaking with terror.

  "Now stop pretending you don't like what I'm doing. I don't want to hurt you none."

  She clawed at his face, hysterical with anger. It would be like the other time, that horrid night in the woods, only this time there would be no rescue. "No... no," she slapped him with all her might. "Leave me alone... stop it...."

  "Hey, ain't no woman gonna hit me!" Shad swung and clipped the side of her jaw.

  Anger overcoming both the pain of his blow and the terror coursing through her, she screamed, "Why are you hurting me? I only wanted to be your friend. I felt sorry for you. Your face..."

  "My face! You felt sorry for me, did you? Why, you snobby little bitch! I didn't ask for your pity. I even welcomed those lashes on my back if it meant being close to you. I thought you were something special, but you ain't. And I'm gonna teach you a lesson..."

  Chapter 4

  Captain Derek Arnhardt, unseen in the shadows on the bridge, had watched the scene on the deck below unfurl.

  So that was the beauteous Julie Marshal, he observed curiously as she sang to the crew. He found her every bit as lovely as his first officer had said she was. The moonlight brushed her ebony hair with silver dust, and her face was a delicate sculpture of loveliness in the light's heavenly glow.

  Even from where he stood, he could see that the young woman was generously endowed. He stared at the rise and fall of her bosom as she lifted her voice in song. Exquisite breasts, he thought, opening and closing his fingers as though actually caressing the firm, tender flesh. It had been a long time since he had pleasured himself with a woman, and he felt as though his eyes were feasting on the most beautiful specimen he had ever seen.