CSS Appomattox: A Thomas Devareaux Alternative History Military Adventure (The Thomas Sumter Devareaux Series Book 1)

by Chris Stoesen

  “Thank you, sir. And my airship? The Appomattox. When can I resume command?”

  That question made Wilson smile. The older man’s eyes twinkled in amusement.

  “Well, that would be a problem. When you were first reported missing, we had to make your first officer its commander to prevent MacAdams from seizing it. He wanted to make it a navy asset. Instead, I have been having Lieutenant Almond; we promoted him by the way, conduct patrols at night. He has been rather successful and I take it that he helped you out last night.”

  Devareaux could not keep the disappointment out of his voice or off of his visage.

  “I see, sir.”

  Wilson just laughed. This caused Devareaux to look up sharply and there was a flash of anger in his eyes.

  “Commander Devareaux, we have an alternative command for you.”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared at the older man. He waited to see what else he would say. He noted that the man had promoted him when he knew full well what his rank was. He prepared himself for flattery.

  “We have brought another airship here to Puerto Rico using that German cargo ship you captured. This one is now called the CSS Greenville. It’s a lousy name in my opinion. But they wanted to keep with the theme. Oh, and there is another friend that you have here.”

  He turned his face towards the closed door and shouted.

  “Buford, get the boy genius in here.”

  A moment later there was a knock on the door. The door opened without waiting for a response and the familiar form of Tobias Whytherspoon entered the room. His goggles were on top of his head and he had a dazed expression. The moment his eyes found Devareaux, the man became energized. He crossed the room in a bound and embraced the still seated Devareaux.

  “I thought you were dead. I had no idea you were still alive and leading the men over there. How did you get back? When did you get back? Hey, how did the Gatling’s perform in the humidity and bad weather? Were you injured?”

  Before the barrage of questions could continue, Wilson coughed into his hand meaningfully.

  “While I do so love reunions, I do have work to do. Devareaux, I will give you two days to come up with a written report of your activities from you and your fellow officers. Until then, please enjoy the accommodations and hospitality that we can offer you here at headquarters. I have rooms for you with the gear you had left behind upstairs. I will arrange a room for Lieutenant. Pena as well. Good day gentlemen.”

  With that, the four men left the room and retreated to a table in the bar. His men were already well cared for. Each of them were busy working on large plates of food. By the time food and drink had been ordered, Devareaux, Benjamin and Pena each provided their portions of their adventure to Tobias.

  The civilian Signals Bureau engineer did not look any worse for wear. The last time that Devareaux had seen him, he was in bad shape. But the man looked hale and healthy. His injuries were not as bad as feared and he arrived on the island with the Appomattox.

  Chapter 34: The West End of Nowhere

  Sykes stood in the General Store and stared at the selection of dry goods. He did not need anything. He did not particularly want anything. He was just trying to break the dullness of the routine in his posting.

  He had managed to get his balloon aloft for the first time last week. The balloon was in terrible shape. It was a veteran of the late unpleasantness with the north. In fact, if you looked close enough its former owner’s markings were still visible underneath the patched cloth. He heard that it had been captured in Virginia after it was blown off course in a storm back in 1861.

  He had no need for nails or any of the cataloged goods from the store. He would look at the material for a patch for the balloon if there were no other customers in the store. He felt a presence behind him and barely could hear a voice whispering to him in a faintly accented voice.

  “Mr. Sykes, I have been looking for you. Please meet me in room 202 of the hotel across the street in thirty minutes.”

  When Sykes turned, he could see a man putting a hat on his bald head and walking out of the door. The only hotel in the town was a charming little establishment known as the Coach Inn. It was so named as it was owned by the Coach Carriage Service that provided transportation and mail service out west in the Confederacy. It was very similar to what Wells Fargo was doing up north. The expansion of rail service to the western Confederate States surely would impact their business, but it was too early to tell how serious that impact would be.

  Sykes decided to spoil himself and purchased a small bag of candy at the register for 15 cents. It was definitely overpriced, but he enjoyed the treat and it would last him for several weeks. He popped one of the hard candies in his mouth before leaving the store and proceeded across the street. The hotel had an outside stairwell to reach the second floor rooms without having to go inside the hotel.

  He climbed the stairs and tripped over the third step. It was loose and was higher than the other steps. He glanced around to see if anyone spotted his stumble. Not seeing anyone, he hurried up the stairs lest he be seen looking foolish again. He opened the hall door and slipped inside.

  The hallway had five doors for the five rooms upstairs. There were two other rooms downstairs that were much larger, or so the manager had told him on his first day here. Sykes made his way to room 202 and knocked.

  A deep rumbly voice from inside called out to him.

  “Enter in.”

  He turned the knob and walked inside the room.

  There were two men sitting in the room. One was in what was obviously an expensive suit. He also was obviously from back east and not used to the heat. The man was perspiring heavily and fanning himself with his hat. His thinning hair was plastered to his balding pate. He had a wilted appearance. Next to the man on the bed table was a half empty glass of water.

  The second man he had seen leaving the general store sat in the room’s only chair. His suit still looked fresh. He was a hard looking man with tanned skin.

  The balding wealthy man looked up at him with tired eyes.

  “Thank you for coming, sir. Are you the Midshipman Sykes, who was lately of the ill-fated CSS Appomattox airship?”

  Sykes suddenly became wary. The man’s accent was of Charleston and his suit bespoke pre-war money. The man’s companion seemed like a foreigner to him. Maybe he was from Ireland or someplace similar to that. He thought about how he would answer.

  “I don’t believe that we have met before, sir.”

  “You are correct. But we do have mutual friends. I believe you are acquainted with Lieutenant Devareaux?”

  Sykes eyes narrowed as he looked at the man.

  “He was my commanding officer while I served aboard the Appomattox.”

  “What was your opinion of him?”

  “He was an excellent officer and a mentor to me. I hope one day to be as able a commander as he was.”

  The man nodded sagely.

  “My daughter was quite taken with the man. I permitted them to correspond for a few years. I was expecting him to ask for my daughter’s hand at any moment. Then I heard the news of his untimely death. Do you know what he was working on? What happened to such a promising officer that he met his end under such a clouded circumstances? There was an ugly rumor that the Navy was going to court-martial him. You are the only officer from the Appomattox that I have been able to even locate to talk to.”

  Sykes remembered the picture that Devareaux carried. He always thought it odd how he yearned for the lady so much yet barely had any contact with her. How could she have such a control over him? Sykes did not think Devareaux would be so crass as to be attracted to her money. This man obviously very wealthy, but Devareaux was an airman through and through. He did not want to be a planter or a business man. He wanted to fly. That is what Sykes loved about him.

  “Sir, the navy did court-martial him following the wreck of the Appomattox. After the loss of any combat vessel, there is such an inquiry. Lieutenant D
evareaux was cleared of all charged. As to the circumstances surrounding his death, I have no idea. Lieutenant Devareaux was the best officer that I have ever served under. What we achieved aboard the Appomattox was nothing less than remarkable. He should have been promoted. I believe that some jealous desk bound officer was seeking some petty revenge because he was less capable than Devareaux and desired the fame he was gathering in the service.”

  The man’s left eyebrow shot up.

  “Well, you certainly have the measure of him that matches with what I remember. My name is Davis, James Adolphus Davis. My associate here is Gunther Rahl. We are concerned that our mutual friend Thomas Devareaux may have fallen afoul of foreign intrigue. I believe that someone may have murdered our poor Thomas. We found evidence that his mail to my daughter may have been intercepted prior to reaching us. I would like your help in tracking down this conspiracy.”

  Sykes rocked back on his feet. Someone murdered Devareaux? How could this be? He would do just about anything to help his former mentor.

  “Yes, I am willing to help in any way that I can. However, I have been assigned to this… place. I have been told that my orders are to stay here for a year or more at this posting. I doubt I can help much from the middle of nowhere.”

  “I believe that I can help you with your little problem. My nephew is Flag Officer Moncrieff. I can get you reassigned to his headquarters in Savannah. Will that help you out?”

  Sykes jaw dropped open for a moment. When he recovered, he shook himself to regain his composure.

  “Yes, sir. That should do nicely.”

  “Well, I will not keep you from your duty any longer Lieutenant.”

  “Actually, its Midshipman sir.”

  “Another thing we will try to remedy in short order. I like you young man. You should have a bright and promising career in front of you. I will do all I can to assist you.”

  The next thing Sykes knew, he was standing back in the hallway. He turned and began the walk back to the fort. Nothing could remove the smile that was plastered across his face.

  …

  Davis turned to Rahl and gave him and evil grin.

  “That was far easier than I thought it would be. Pass the word back to your masters that we have an agent in place that can discover what is going on with those airships down in Puerto Rico.”

  Rahl grunted in agreement.

  “Your Yankee friends will be happy as well, I think. Fortunately, that boy is too dense to realize what is going on.”

  Rahl turned behind him and fetched a bottle and began to pour two glasses and handed one to Davis. They clinked glasses briefly and drank the liquid.

  “What are you going to do about Booth?”

  Rahl looked at the man and waited a moment for him to answer.

  “He is actually an asset for us. His father is my attorney. Ashley is a man following in his father’s footsteps. He is a Northern sympathizer. I use him to pass any messages that I have to Washington.”

  “Very well then, in the morning, we can return to civilization.”

  Chapter 35: The Long Way Home

  Devareaux was reunited with Almond and his old crew when they had returned from their patrol. Then men spent hours drinking and swapping stories. It seems that Almond was developing into a good airship commander. In his patrols he had sunk three small Germans patrol ships. He drew several larger ships off of their patrol routes that allowed a fishing vessel to break the blockade.

  Whytherspoon gave Devareaux a tour of the plans to his new airship, the CSS Greenville. It was the same design as the Appomattox. There were several exceptions. There were some new armaments added. These were short barreled breach loading weapons. They fired what looked like an oversized shotgun shell. The shell contained a steel dart that had a phosphorous wrapping. The wrapper would ignite when fired. It was designed to pierce an airship’s airbag and imbed itself into the frame in order to catch it on fire.

  There were six of these weapons mounted on a pivoting posts positioned by windows in the kitchen and quarters area. There were three on each side of the ship. The windows were made to slide out of the way before firing the weapon. It was intended that the marines would man these weapons.

  Also, the wireless communications were purpose built into the airship. The wiring was run throughout the entire vessel allowing for a much longer range to send and receive. This would enable the two airships to coordinate their efforts. One addition was a towing cable to allow the airship to either haul equipment or provide an anchor point for mooring with the tender while both were under way.

  The airship had not been issued a commanding officer yet. But the airship’s crew was well trained and drilled. But they were not his old crew.

  What surprised Devareaux was that the Greenville was not assigned an officer on purpose. News reached the Signals Bureau of Devareaux’s actions in Puerto Rico before the airship left Egg Island. A commander was purposefully not assigned. In essence, they had saved this command for him.

  Over the next month, Devareaux got to know his new crew. The Appomattox and the Greenville conducted two missions together. The two airships attempted to test some maneuvers against a warship that ventured too close. They managed to score hits, but nothing that did lasting damage to the German vessel. They proved that the new side mounted guns were effective in shooting down the German exploding balloon defense.

  Both vessels were used to deliver supplies and ammunition to rebels in Puerto Rico. Pena and his men returned to the island on one of the missions. The marines remained behind at their base for these missions. The command was afraid to loose these men by not being able to recover them.

  After another two months of little action, but constant patrols, the airships were working well together. After their third joint patrol, General Wilson was waiting for them with a disappointed look on his face.

  “Gentlemen, here are your orders. You are to report back to Egg Island. Our mission here is over. The marines will be loaded aboard the tender Santiago. I will be traveling with you aboard the Greenville.”

  The two airship officers stared in disbelief at the Signals Bureau officer. The older man gave them a wry smile. He waved the paper in his hands.

  “The Dons are meeting with the Germans to work out a piece. The Confederacy is invited to the table. The Dons have already worked out a separate treaty with the United States. It seems the United States is the proud new owners of the Philippines. The Confederacy will be granted unlimited use of this island as a naval station, but airships, in particular, are not allowed. Germany will provide payment for the rest of Puerto Rico and they will be allowed to keep it as a colony. All support for the guerillas will be withdrawn. So we must go. In many respects, our mission here was a success. The ambassador in Richmond was appreciative of our efforts and is quite pleased that they will be getting paid for Puerto Rico and that they won’t lose Cuba.”

  …

  The men boarded the airships and Santiago in sullen silence. It was only three days since they received their orders. Wilson was given the portion of the crew cabin that was separated off by a deal partition. He moved to his quarters before they took off and no one had seen any signs of the man for the rest of the first day.

  Wilson had missed both lunch and dinner. He assumed that the man was just not hungry. They were flying below the level where the rebreathers would be necessary. By 2000 hours, Devareaux went to check on him and knocked on the partition door. There was no answer. He pressed his ear to the door to listen closer and attempt to block out the sounds of the airship. He could hear nothing. Frowning, he knocked harder. Still, there was no answer.

  Devareaux’s knocking had attracted the attention of one of the bosun’s mates. The man was asleep until Devareaux’s knocking had woken him. He came over to him.

  “Is everything alright sir?”

  “I don’t know. I am trying to talk to General Wilson. Let’s open the partition.”

  The two men yanked the door open,
shattering the cheap lock that was on the door. The general lay sprawled on his cot. An empty cup lay on the floor of his room. The general’s eyes were wide open with a surprised expression. The two men tried to rouse him, but it became quickly apparent that he was quite dead.

  The bottle of wine that was open in his chamber was a South Carolina wine from a small winery in the upstate. The bottle was still mostly full. The bosun’s mate found the cork and they replaced it in the bottle.

  Devareaux ordered that the room be sealed. He posted a guard on the room and sent an update on the wireless to Almond. It was repeated to the Santiago below them and again as they neared Egg Island.

  When the Greenville landed, the airship was secured and Signals Bureau personnel quarantined the crew and began to comb the airship. The crew was taken under guard and isolated from one another.

  Devareaux remained isolated from everyone for three days. Devareaux, with nothing but time on his hands, took to drinking. The door would open several times per day and food would be delivered. By the third day, Devareaux did not hear the knock on his door the first few times. When he finally was startled out of his stupor, he lurched to the door. Upon opening it, he stood face to face with the base commander.

  Devareaux attempted to come to a state of attention. The effort caused him to collapse backwards. Colonel Graham shook his head in disgust. He turned his head to someone behind him.

  “Get him straightened up and bring him to my office.”

  Devareaux was mostly sure he said more, but the words were not very kind and did not seem like the sort of thing a base commander should be saying. Before Devareaux could process anything else in his drink addled brain, he was being picked up off of the floor by a pair of rather large marines.

  …

  Cleaned up and almost sober, Devareaux stood outside of Colonel Graham’s door. He knocked and heard a rather grumpy voice invite him in. He entered the room and closed the door behind him. He stood at a proper parade ground attention. He had no clue who else was in the office as he was not willing to risk a look around.