As they stood there, they realized that they crash landed at high tide. More of the airship’s gondola was visible as the water receded. Devareaux had a sling on his arm to stabilize the shoulder. He grimaced in pain. Looking over his crew, Devareaux took inventory.
Tobias was still unconscious. His head was bandaged and the man seemed stable. Jed was dead. He bled out on the beach. There was nothing that they could have done for him. They tried to make him comfortable as possible before he passed.
Mark Applegate was not to be seen. The boiler room crew seemed to get a dark look when his name was mentioned. He would need to investigate that further. Hinkey looked ill. He was still up and moving, but looked physically ill. His two boiler crew, Seneca and Tiberius, seemed fine.
Hargrave and Almond were fine. Almond in point of fact looked far less rumpled and out of place than anyone who went through an airship crash had any business being. How did the man do it?
Cassius had his right arm in a sling. His face was pale even with his dark skin. He would need a doctor. The other two rocket gunners seemed in good enough shape. Elijah was attempting to tend to the wounded, but he was no doctor. Julius, having no duty, laid his head down and was asleep. Devareaux viewed him as a smart and practical man.
The marine Wilson was missing. The other dead marine, Lopez, was lying with his uniform jacket covering his head under the trees. The remaining marines were up and about. They were moving and being productive under Sergeant Benjamin’s competent leadership.
Devareaux made a decision. He called Benjamin over to him.
“Sergeant, I need you and your marines to get some help. Based on where we are on this peninsula, we should be to the north of a village. Please take a couple of men there and get some help. We have hurt men that need a doctor. Maybe they have a telegraph.”
Devareaux drew what he could remember of the map in the sand and sent Benjamin and Rodriguez off to find some help.
Devareaux stood. He moved and checked on each of his men. He spoke to them in turn. Once he had spoken to all of his men he turned to watch the marines fade into the distance. He turned to the remaining men who were mobile.
“Let’s see what we can take salvage from the old girl. My court-martial will be problematic enough without being charged for the salvageable gear aboard.”
Almond, Devareaux, Hargrave, Seneca, Julius and Tiberius proceeded to the stricken ship. Over the next three hours they pulled most of the chests from the airship. They also grabbed the Marine’s equipment from the crew quarters. They kept trying to find anything that they can.
A search of the remains of the boiler room revealed the body of Mark Applegate. His body had nearly been dragged out of the room by the surf. They removed his body and took it back to the beach.
The bridge had maps, navigation gear and a few other items that could be pulled out. While they were on board, the frame gave a final crack and the gondola settled down somewhat straighter and more level than it had been.
Nothing else could be salvaged without some serious tools and engineers. They had done all that they could.
Chapter 18: Headquarters
He had been in the room for over seven hours. Devareaux’s rear end had passed the point of being asleep and was closer to complete numbness. He had not been offered food or drink for the entire interview. His throat was dry and his voice had taken a gravelly tone to it as a result.
There were no less than seven senior officers. One was without any insignia. That must have been the fellow from Signals Branch. The Chief of Airship Development, Captain Patrick was there as well as the Chief of Airship Operations. What was his name again? Was it Captain Tirkel? Maybe, but he could not remember. Two were elderly men from the War Department wearing formal uniforms. The other three had come and gone during the marathon meeting. His trial was important enough that these men had taken the train down from Richmond for the occasion.
In wartime, court-martials were far less formal affairs. A jury of five officers was assembled and it was determined if the ship was lost to enemy action or the incompetence of its officers and judgments were rendered quite quickly as people had better things to do, like fight the war. In peacetime, however, the old men of the War Department apparently had nothing better to do.
One of the graybeards from the War Department put his pen down.
“Gentlemen, let us retire and compare the evidence. Lieutenant Devareaux, please go with the marine guard back to your quarters. You will be contacted with our decision as soon as possible.”
Devareaux came to his feet and nearly fell due to the numbness of his backside. With as much dignity as he could muster, he crisply saluted the assembled senior officers. They each returned the salute.
As he left he noticed that his shirt was stuck to his back with sweat. His knees were shaking and he needed a drink now more than anytime in his adult life.
He had the same quarters that he occupied the last time he was in Savannah. He dropped on the bed in his room utterly exhausted. When he did so, he heard something fall to the floor. He slowly picked himself up and moved to find what had fallen. It was his mail.
There were four letters, all from Ann. He almost could not bear to open the letters. Examining the post mark, he did what he always did and opened them in the date order that they were sent.
The first contained her gushing praise of him for his actions off of the coast of Puerto Rico. She extolled his virtues as a warrior and went on about how she sung his praises to her beloved Ashley. By the end of the letter he flung it to the floor.
He opened the second. This one had a different tone. She was worried that her warrior had not received her invitation. She insisted that she had it on good authority that he was back in the Confederacy and had received her letters.
“My darling Thomas,
Is there something that I have done to offend you that you do not reply to my invitation? I need to know that you will be present at my wedding for you are my nearest and dearest companion and I must have you share my joy. Has your duty carried you away from me? I must ensure that you are able to come. I will write to cousin Moncrieff immediately to ensure that they do not drag you away from me with such insensitivity.
With All My Love,
Your Darling Ann”
Wait, cousin Moncrieff? Where had Devareaux heard that name before? Holy Crap! The base commander in Savannah was Flag Officer Dale Moncrieff. Surely it could not be. It was just not possible that the world was that unjust. Moncrieff knew of his bender he went on after finding out about her wedding last time he was here.
Was the little mort spying on him while he was on base through her family connections? Well, that was interesting. She could be spiteful when she put her mind to it. That thought needed to be mulled over longer, provided he was not expelled from the service or jailed for the loss of the Appomattox.
He opened the third letter with much trepidation.
“Thomas,
Cousin Moncrieff has informed me of your deplorable behavior when you were last in port. What could possibly have come over you to so debase yourself? As my wedding approaches, I can only hope that you manage to redeem yourself in the eyes of my family before coming to my wedding. I still have not received your reply. Please let me know if we can expect you to attend. I would be most displeased if you would not be part of the most joyful event of my life. Please write to me. This is the longest I have gone without hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Your Ann”
That was interesting. In all of her previous letters, she had always signed it ‘With all my Love.’ And she would wonder why I had expectations. Ha! His hand moved to the fourth letter. This was different than the others. It was a bit thicker and had the look that it might have been opened and resealed at some point. This drew Devareaux’s closer attention.
Upon opening the letter he found there were two letters inside. He glanced at the envelope’s postmark and discovered that this one was mailed jus
t two days ago. Of the two letters inside, one was written on Ann’s normal stationary. The other was a gray paper that he was unfamiliar with. He decided to take up Ann’s letter first.
“Lieutenant Devareaux,”
This is not a good sign. She had always addressed him as ‘Beloved’ or ‘Thomas.’ She had never called him by his rank and last name.
“I have been informed by cousin Moncrieff that you are now under a cloud professionally due to the recent loss of your fine airship. I have been told that it was due to your negligence that such an important asset to our beloved country was lost. I cannot believe such a rumor, but neither can I abide by such a cloud overhanging my wedding day.
The papers have published a picture of the wreck of your vessel on the beach in South Carolina. How could you have been so close and yet failed to call upon me.”
Wait a minute. What the hell was I supposed to do? Ignore my duty and sail the Appomattox up the Congaree to say hello? I am sure the taxpayers would love to hear that story of the young airmen taking a joy ride to see his girlfriend. Wait, what is she now? She is marrying someone else.
“I am afraid that I must stop our correspondence for the time being or until you manage to emerge under your cloud of suspicion. I do not wish my family to be tarnished at this time. I will trust that you will be vindicated and we one day may resume our friendship.
Ann”
While he knew that any aspirations he had with his first and only love dissolved with the letter informing him of her pending nuptials, this was almost a worse blow. He sat unmoving for close to twenty minutes on his bed. He numbly moved and took a pitcher of water that was cooling in the ice box and drank straight from it in a long pull.
He contemplated dumping the cool water over his head. The ice in the cabinet had not been refilled in a few days and the icebox was not keeping things as cool as they had. It seems that officers under the gloom of a court martial did not warrant luxuries such as cold water or ice for their ice box.
Replacing the pitcher he returned to the bed. He picked up the gray paper and unfolded it.
“Devareaux,
By now you know how foolish it was to pursue my Ann’s favor. She will be married to the son of my banker as I had always intended. You have not written her since she has mailed you the invitation. I in turn am inviting you not to attend the wedding. If you write my Ann again, I will ensure that you will be completely broken, starting with your career. I know the reason behind your outburst the last time you were in Savannah as does Flag Officer Moncrieff. I have instructed him to be lenient to you as long as you obey my wishes to stay away from my daughter.”
The letter was unsigned. Her father was a powerful man with contacts across the globe. His network extended not only to foreign shores, but within the government as well. This was worse than anything he had previously imagined. He folded the letter back and placed it and Ann’s letters in the fireplace. He lit them with a box of matches and watched them burn.
In the dancing flames, he saw the destruction of his life. His heart was already burned. Now his career was being consumed. His family, well they were dead already so they were untouched by his current failures.
As he watched the flames, he thought harder. What had he done wrong actually? Nothing! He fought his airship rather well. His crew managed to bring the stricken craft back to a friendly shore after crippling one troopship and damaging another. They had devastated an enemy gunboat. All of those enemy vessels suffered higher casualties than his entire crew. He did well, damn it.
Slowly his despair was replaced with resolve. As the last of the letters burned to ash and the fire extinguished itself, his back had straightened. He had renewed confidence. If he could live through the hell of the last battle, he could face down old men and a crazy farmer.
He stood up straight and adjusted his uniform. At that moment, there was a knock at the door. He pivoted as if he were walking a tour at the Citadel once again and stiffly marched to the door. He pulled it open and he blinked. There was Tobias without his goggles! The man was wearing regular eyeglasses.
Tobias cracked a lopsided smile. He glanced up with his eyes and spoke.
“I saw the black smoke. I am guessing that you have not chosen the next Pope?”
“Huh? What are you talk… Oh, that. No, I just received mail that I would rather not remember so into the fire it went.”
That caught Tobias off guard.
“Really, who was it from?”
He had tried to ask innocently but Devareaux was still as wary as a cat near a rocking chair. He viewed every question as if it were to be used to damn him. Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his watch. He opened the clasp of the Waltham and handed it to him, pointing at the remains of the portrait of Ann.
He did not remember when he defaced the portrait. He was not sure if he was trying to remove it or just damage it. Either attempt must have been made when he was drunk as the portrait could still be seen for what it was.
Tobias took the watch and looked at the young woman’s portrait. His face relaxed and took on a sad cast to it. He handed back the scared Waltham after closing it.
In a more somber tone Tobias asked Devareaux to enter.
Chapter 19: Intrigues
The men sat at the two chairs and small table that the room provided for entertaining guests. Devareaux had poured Tobias a glass of water and had one himself. The two raised their glasses and touched them and muttered together.
“Absent friends.”
“So, how do you think the court-martial is going Thomas?”
He was not at all surprised by the question. He was very surprised that he called him by his first name. Tobias had never done that before. That meant something, but he was just not sure what it was.
“Honestly Tobias, I have no idea. I told them everything that had happened as I knew it. I told them everything I had been told by my crew. I honestly believe I did the best that I could have in the given situation. I recommended the marines for a citation for getting that patch in place. Without Benjamin and his men, we would never have reached the beach. Hinkey too was a hero, but you can’t do anything for him since he may have killed Applegate to save us. It is a mess. I am not sure what they will do. And you, spotting the enemy in a vulnerable position like that. That was bravely done. Are you OK?”
He paused for a moment and looked at Tobias. Tobias looked slightly embarrassed by the praise. He waved off Thomas’ concerns.
“I am fine. Knocked about a bit for sure, but I will be fine. I have some headaches as a result, but those should go away in time. I heard all of the evidence. I don’t blame Hinkey. If Applegate would have been left back at Puerto Rico, I think we could have made it back to a base. The man nearly did kill us.”
“You know, when they pulled you out of the Appy, I thought you had died. I was rather worried about you my friend. I am glad you pulled through it.”
Tobias actually blushed. For an engineer-super spy, he was still just a kid. Tobias’ head bobbed up and down a bit.
“Yeah, head wounds bleed more than you would think. It looked worse than it really was. When that first balloon bomb exploded, it threw me back into the far side of the bubble and cut my head in a few places. I still have stitches on the back of my head. That is why I can’t wear my goggles. I heard later that Hargrave and Rodriguez saved me.”
Sure enough, there was a large round shaved spot on the back of his head that bore a rather large bandage.
Tobias looked around and leaned into the table and lowered his voice.
“We were set up. News of our mission had been wired out up north. SB intercepted the communication, but we only now have cracked the code they were using. That is something new by the way. And while we were at sea… or should that be in the air? Nevermind, the radio transmissions were sent out from somewhere in Virginia that notified the enemy fleet as to what we were about. They did not know everything. The submarines were a surprise t
o them, but they knew we would be there. They had prepared for that balloon defense before they had left New York. There is a leak somewhere. We were betrayed.”
Devareaux swallowed hard and reached for his water glass. Before it touched his lips, Tobias began speaking again.
“There is a network of spies but they do not know everything. They only know general things. No specifics. It was still enough to cause the loss of your airship. Unfortunately, I cannot disclose this to the court-martial. SB is keeping this one close. I felt I owed it to you to tell you.”
Well, that was interesting. But it did not do him any good now. He still had to survive the trial.
“Do you know when they will reach a verdict?”
Tobias shook his head in reply.
“Oh, well, thanks anyway. Do you know how they will rule?”
Tobias smiled a rather wolfish smile that made his eyes look almost predatory.
“No. But I do know how Signals will tell them to vote. Signals Bureau wants to fully exonerate you and your crew, except for Applegate. He was a drunk that nearly killed us all. If he would have lived, I would he would have been shot for his crimes. Now it is just not possible to get you a new command yet. There are no suitable openings. You sir, are out of action for a while. You and your whole crew are grounded. There is just no place to put them. But the SB has employment for the gallant crew of the Appomattox.”
It was like electricity was shooting throughout his body. He was both nervous and excited. Working with Signals Bureau was never a way to enhance one’s career. Promotions were harder to come by as the missions were all classified as secret and unavailable to the graybeards in the Naval Personnel office. But they have the unique advantage of never, ever being boring.
Devareaux’s inner child came to his tongue before he could restrain it.
“You are not going to have us wear dresses and take over the SMS Württemberg or something like that, are you?”
CSS Appomattox: A Thomas Devareaux Alternative History Military Adventure (The Thomas Sumter Devareaux Series Book 1) Page 13