Beyond All Price

by Carolyn Poling Schriber

  “Am I in the right cabin?” Nellie asked.

  “Prob’ly so,” muttered Mrs. White. “There’s an empty bunk up on top.” She nodded toward the least accessible bunk.

  “And my things? I was told they’d been stowed in my cabin.” The women looked around with feigned innocence and shrugging shoulders. Finally Nellie spotted her small trunk at the bottom of a stack of boxes.

  I won’t make a fuss, Nellie told herself. There’s not enough room in here to unleash a fight. Instead, she forced herself to smile at her cabin-mates. “I’ll worry about that later. I just wanted to see where my things were. I’ll be back after we get the sick call cabin set up.” She backed out of the room as fast as she could. Making her way down the passageway, she spotted Doctor Ludington and hurried to catch up with him.

  “Welcome aboard, Doctor. Can I be of help with the medical supplies?”

  “You don’t need to do that right now, Nellie. We have no patients yet, so we’ll have plenty of time to get organized. Have you seen the sick bay? It’s nice.” He stopped at the door and held it open for Nellie to enter ahead of him.

  She looked around with relief. After her own cramped quarters, these wide bunks and ample chairs were a welcome sight. “I’ll be happy to stay on duty here,” she told the doctor.

  “There’s no need for you to be on call all the time, Nellie,” he began. Then he noted the crestfallen expression on her face. “Your own quarters not up to these standards?” he asked.

  “I don’t mean to complain, but the other women are unwelcoming. I’m sure they’d be happier if I weren’t quartered with them. And it would be disturbing to them if I had to be called out while they were trying to sleep. That’s a lame excuse, I suspect, but. . . .”

  “Nellie, you’re the regimental matron. You should be able to decide where you live and work. I’ll be happy to know you are here whenever a sick soldier needs attention. By all means, make yourself comfortable. I’ll tell one of the men to move your things from the ladies’ cabin. Until then, you might want to take some air on deck. As I came down, I noticed some of the men were looking a bit green in the gills up there. Maybe you can offer them some advice on getting their sea legs.”

  “I’ll try, Sir.”

  As luck would have it, the first fellow she saw hanging over the rails of the ship in agony was Reverend Browne. “Not feeling well?” she asked solicitously.

  “Ah, Mrs. Leath. I’m not one to complain, but I didn’t expect the deck to rock this much. I’ll adjust, I’m sure. I’ve been trying to distract myself by reading my Bible, but it’s not working.”

  “Well, that’s part of your problem,” Nellie said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with reading the Bible, mind you, but a pitching deck isn’t the best place to do it. If you’ll look out at something far away instead of something up close, I think you’ll find you’ll feel better.”

  “So I should look back at something on shore and wish that’s where I was?”

  “No, actually, you need to look out over the water. And don’t stare at one spot. Let your eyes move back and forth in rhythm with the waves.”

  “You speak as if you’re familiar with boats,” he observed with an arched eyebrow.

  “I am, Sir. I grew up near the coast of Maine, and several of my uncles ran fishing boats. I’ve been on the water as long as I can remember.”

  “Hmmmm. I’d be interested in hearing all about your past sometime.”

  I’m sure you would, Nellie thought to herself, but I wouldn’t trust you that far! She smiled brightly at him. “Perhaps sometime when you’re feeling better. For now, I think you need to concentrate on getting acclimated.”

  “And what do you recommend?”

  “Well, for one thing, you’re much too stiff. You’re trying to hold yourself rigid to compensate for the moving deck. But when you do that, your body feels one sensation, your eyes tell you something else, and your sense of balance is completely confused. Try moving with the ship. Sway back and forth. Shift your feet. Lean forward and back. Look around. Inhale deeply instead of holding your breath. Just don’t look at anything up close.”

  “Ah, learned advice, I’m sure, spoken by one who is not being assailed by waves of nausea. I, however, must read my Bible to find a topic for tomorrow morning’s sermon, regardless of how I may feel.”

  Nellie shook her head at the stubbornness of the male ego. “Why don’t you try something you have memorized, instead? ‘He leadeth me beside still waters’ might be appropriate.” She laughed despite her attempts to look wide-eyed and serious.

  “Do you find religion humorous, Mrs. Leath?” the chaplain asked.

  “No, Sir, but I don’t believe God minds us enjoying ourselves.”

  “Don’t you? A pity. Your attitude reveals much about you.” Reverend Browne wheeled away from her and stomped stiff-legged toward the nearest hatch. He almost made it before he had to dash for the rail again and relieve himself of the rest of his lunch.

  Yes, Sir. Our attitudes reveal a great deal about ourselves, don’t they? Nellie thought. Then she shrugged and turned away.

  The Ocean Queen was ready to sail out of the harbor at Annapolis and cross Chesapeake Bay on her way to join the rest of the fleet. But the water was rough, and headwinds further delayed her passage. The ship stayed at anchor through Sunday, giving most of the soldiers time to find their sea legs and settle into a new routine. There were so many bodies aboard the vessel it was necessary to limit movements. The cooks served only two meals a day, due to the logistics of getting everyone in and out of the mess cabin.

  “You’ll get your full ration of food,” Colonel Leasure promised, but the more enterprising among the soldiers busied themselves making deals with the cooks to snatch a few extra rations. The sailors on board were more than willing to raid the pantry if it meant a chance to cheat the soldiers. Soon they were doing a brisk business in everything from bread to brandy. One poor fellow was caught sneaking out of the kitchen at night with a plate stacked high with pickles. When the guard shouted at him, he started to run, lost his balance, and scattered the pickles across the deck. Those who witnessed the incident were quicker to gather up the pickles than to help the thief to his feet.

  The Sunday sermon was delayed until Sunday evening. When Reverend Browne finally made his way to the deck where the soldiers had been assembled, he looked distinctly pale and shaky. “I have taken as my text today the Twenty-Third Psalm: ‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want’.”

  Nellie took deep breaths to control her amusement. She managed to control herself through the reference to ‘still waters’, but by the time the chaplain reached the passage about walking ‘through the valley of the shadow of death’, she had to back her way out of the crowd and flee to the shelter of the sick bay, where she could laugh without disrupting the service. I should have told him that you don’t die from seasickness, she thought. You’re just afraid you won’t. It took all of her strength to muster a bit of sympathy for the pompous man.

  The water was still rough on Monday morning, but fifteen ships set out on their passage to Hampton Roads. This protected area, where the James River and the Elizabeth River flow into Chesapeake Bay, was known as the greatest natural harbor in the world. By the time the Ocean Queen and her companions reached Fort Monroe, a six-sided and moated fortress that dominated the southern-most tip of Virginia’s peninsula and protected Hampton Roads, the anchorage was already filled by the largest fleet the Union Navy had ever assembled. With the addition of the arrivals from Annapolis, the fleet numbered some eighty vessels, ranging in size from the Wabash, the enormous flagship of Admiral Samuel E. DuPont, to a cluster of small tugs and whalers that had been pressed into service to help. Brigadier General Thomas William Sherman was in command of the Army’s South Carolina Expeditionary Force of 12,000 men. The expedition was set to enforce the blockade of the southern coast. As the last elements assembled, General Sherman sent a formal message to his men:

&nbs
p; The general commanding announces to the expeditionary corps that it is intended to make a descent on the enemy’s coast, and probably under circumstances which will demand the utmost vigilance, coolness, and intrepidity on the part of every officer and man of his command. In consideration of the justness and holiness of our cause, of the ardent patriotism which has prompted the virtuous and industrious citizens of our land to fly to their country’s standard in the moment of her peril, he most confidently believes that he will be effectually and efficiently supported in his efforts to overthrow a zealous, active, and wily foe, whose cause is unholy and principles untenable.

  They were stirring words, and the men of the Hundredth Pennsylvania were ready for action. Unfortunately, naval and military maneuvers were not easy to coordinate. DuPont concentrated on the fleet’s preparations to sail. He was looking for good weather and a speedy trip down the coast, hoping to catch the Confederate defenders unaware of their approach and unprepared to defend their harbors from his booming guns. For DuPont, this was a naval mission, one in which the soldiers were unimportant. Sherman, on the other hand, expected the expedition to be an Army assault. To him, the Navy’s ships were merely transports. Although the fleet contained a large number of sailing ships loaded with food, equipment, and munitions, Sherman worried his 12,000 men were not adequately supplied, and he did his best to delay the launching of the expedition. As a result, the Expeditionary Force found itself in a self-perpetuating quandary. Food and water had been provided for the journey, but not in sufficient quantities to support a delay in Hampton Roads. The men, of course, consumed those supplies rapidly during the delays, creating a need for restocking and causing further delay.

  The men of the Hundredth Pennsylvania tried their best to adapt to life aboard ship, but with nothing to do, they soon became cranky and bored, a sure formula for trouble. Reverend Browne made his rounds to check on behavioral problems, but he could do little more than fulminate. He became especially agitated over the discovery the men of the Fiftieth Pennsylvania were much addicted to playing cards. He became something of a fixture on deck, striding over to the card players and delivering an impromptu sermon on the evils of gambling. For the most part, the men simply ignored him. But in his nightly letter to his wife, he reported in at least one instance the players were so moved they threw their cards overboard on the spot. The chaplain also worried the Roundheads might be unduly influenced by this ungodly behavior and watched them closely for signs of corruption.

  But not closely enough. On the second night at anchor, two Roundheads from Company C visited Nellie in the sick bay. Private Hugh Wilson had a blackening eye, a split lip, and a cut over his left eyebrow that bled profusely. His friend Jacob Leary nursed a scratched and swollen left hand. “What on earth happened to the two of you?” Nellie asked as she bustled about finding sticking plasters and disinfectants.

  “Do we have to tell?” asked Jacob.

  “Well, no, I suppose you don’t owe me an explanation, but I’ll need to report something to Doctor Ludington.”

  “We was in a bit of a disagreement—over some money,” Hugh offered. Nellie cocked an eyebrow at the men, and somehow the whole story came spilling out. The soldiers had been invited to join a poker game and had been unwilling to admit they knew nothing about the game. They sat down and tried to conceal their ignorance by simply watching what everyone else did. They held their cards and added money to the pot whenever it was their turn. The real players soon caught on and ran the betting up until they had emptied the pockets of the Roundheads. When a member of the Fiftieth raked in his winnings, Hugh and Jacob had gotten up to leave, but the others encouraged them to stay, giving them markers they could use instead of money. Again, the two innocents did as they were told, not realizing they were running up a huge debt. When the game broke up, the winners demanded their money. The frightened and confused Roundheads reacted in panic, and a fistfight had broken out, only to be disrupted by the corporal of the guard, who sent them all packing.

  “Whatever possessed you to keep playing?” Nellie demanded. “Did you ever win?”

  “I don’t know,” Hugh answered. “We didn’t know how we was supposed to win.”

  “Oh, my word. You two really need help. This sticking plaster may hold your wounds together, but it’s of no use on your ignorance. You’d better stay far away from poker games until somebody teaches you the rules—like the meaning of the word ‘fold’.”

  “Well, nobody in our regiment is going to conduct poker lessons, that’s for sure,” said Jacob. “Reverend Browne’d have a cow if he caught us!”

  “I could.”

  “What?”

  “I said, I could.” Nellie grinned at them. “I was married to a professional gambler in another life. There’s not much I don’t know about card games.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Leath! Would you? Could you?”

  “That’d be great. I’ll bet we could find lots of boys from home who’d like to learn.”

  “We could have regular classes. I’d really like to get even with those fellows who whomped us.”

  Nellie held up a hand to stop the flow of words. “Wait a minute. I’ll give you two a couple of quick lessons, but I’m not about to start a poker class here in sick bay. Reverend Browne’s looking for a chance to get rid of me, and that would do it, sure as anything.”

  “Fair enough. Can we start now?”

  “Well, let me give you a homework assignment. You’ll have to know how winning hands are determined. Write the list down and memorize them in order. Then come back tomorrow evening after dinner, and we’ll do a bit of practice. Here’s the winning list, starting with the lowest: 1 pair; 2 pair; 3 of a kind; a straight (5 cards in a row); a flush (5 cards of the same suit); full house (2 of one value, three of another); 4 of a kind; straight flush (5 in order, all same suit); and royal flush (A-K-Q-J-10 of same suit).”

  “Gosh! So that’s what they meant by full houses and flushes. No wonder we didn’t know what we were doing.”

  “Oh, and there are a few other terms you need to know. At the beginning of a hand, everyone has to ante up a minimum bet. After the next bet, you have a choice. You can call the bet by matching it, or you can raise the bet, in which case everyone else has to match you. Or you can

  fold, which means you quit before you lose your socks.”

  “Which is what we should have done?”

  “Exactly. Now go get some rest, and don’t get involved in any more card games till you know what you’re doing.”

  “Yes, M’am!”

  Nellie should have known better, of course. But she thought the wide-eyed young soldiers from Pennsylvania deserved at least a fighting chance to get their money back. And I really don’t see what all the fuss is about, she told herself. When Reverend Browne gets going on how cards are the Devil’s playthings, he sounds silly.

  When Jacob and Hugh showed up at sick bay the next night, Nellie was ready for their next lesson. She had charmed a lieutenant from the Fiftieth into loaning her a deck of cards she could use for a demonstration. Using a bunk as an improvised table, she soon had the soldiers dealing hands of five-card stud.

  “Here’s what you need to remember. Always fold when a card on the board beats what you have in your hand. And in general, fold whenever you don’t have a pair within the first three cards, unless all three of your cards are the same suit or are in a row. Then you can try one more round to see if you’re headed for a flush or a straight.”

  “But why quit before you’ve seen all five of your cards?”

  “Because each card costs you money, that’s why!” Jacob was beginning to catch on.

  “One other thing you need to learn. Keep track of all the cards on the table. If you’re holding two jacks, and you can see another jack face up on the table, you’re pretty much. . . .”

  Before she could finish her sentence, the door to the sick bay burst open, and in stomped Reverend Browne. “What in blazes is going on here, Mrs. Leath? Are you .
. . gambling?” He was so agitated that drops of spittle flew from his straggly mustache.