The Lincoln Penny

by Barbara Best

  There is a good amount of practiced order, discipline and teamwork in reenacting that most people don’t realize when they visit an occupied fort or Civil War encampment. Portraying Union troops occupying Fort Pulaski, Sophie’s husband and the other men will take on all ranks of military service that would be typical of this garrison. From what Jane can tell, there is a lot of marching and drilling to keep their skills sharp. Ben said during off duty hours and to brighten dull garrison life, the men will play baseball. A photo of the 48th New York playing the game in the courtyard was actually taken in 1862 and the fort itself is coincidentally constructed in the shape of a baseball home plate.

  Sophie and Jane’s group of ladies have worked hard to arrange and rehearse factual demonstrations they will conduct before delighted visitors. They will also prepare a large breakfast and lunch for the hungry soldiers, which will be served on tables out on the veranda in full view. In the evening when the park is closed to tourists, their group will decorate the dining hall for a lovely private dinner, followed by a soiree with live music, dancing and games.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Phew! What a day.” Jane enjoys a moment with her friend out under the huge arms of an old pecan tree that offers the only shade on the parade ground. Saturday’s weather has been nice for her birthday. A cool breeze catches the bottom of Jane’s hooped skirt and gently lifts it. It’s peculiar how easily she has settled into this historic setting and adapted to wearing her period clothing.

  The last visitors have left for the day and the sun is low in the sky casting shadows across the lawn where one single cannon stands vigil. Jane remembers Ben’s story about déjà vu. Sound carries effortlessly in the peaceful quiet and echoes off the walls of the casemates. A few of the guys must be practicing for tonight’s dance. She lightly hums the chorus of “The Battle Cry of Freedom” and watches the shadows grow longer. She takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. It feels like she’s home.

  “You can’t quit now.” Sophie startles Jane out of her solitude. With endless energy, she tugs her friend up from her warm bench in the direction of the Colonel’s Quarters. “We have so much yet to do,” she says merrily. “You won’t want to miss one minute of our dinner and soiree tonight! It’s where all our hard work really pays off. Come on!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The air is charged with excitement and anticipation. The men are in their best dress uniforms. The garrison’s commander has given them specific instructions to conduct themselves as gentlemen and attend to the ladies’ needs. The ladies have donned their best jewelry, gloves and pinned fresh picked flowers in their hair. A few of the ladies, who can afford it, have lovely ball gowns to wear.

  All the preparations have been made. The dining hall is decorated, the tables are set and candelabras light a feast fit for a king. Jane sits down to dinner at the right side of her appointed escort. It appears that Sophie is playing matchmaker, and knowing her friend means well, Jane doesn’t mind being set up.

  Tall, tan, blond hair, and blue eyes, Kyle is definitely easy on the eyes. Jane glances sideways at her escort, who seems a bit stiff in his suggested role. She is positive he knows the two of them have been put together on purpose. Although Kyle is extremely polite and accommodating, it isn’t long before he relaxes into conversation with a couple of his fellow soldiers about a major Civil War battle they all concur is the turning point so far in the war. It is fascinating to hear the men discuss the past in present tense. For the time being, Kyle’s preoccupation suits Jane just fine. She is glad to have a personal moment to take everything in. Never has she had so much fun and Sophie promises much more to come.

  At Jane’s table, there is a birthday toast to her “good health and happiness” and the other tables around her join in. Spending her birthday at Fort Pulaski is for lack of a better word, simply awesome.

  “I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate. Thank y’all so much!” Jane tells her newfound friends, who wish her the best with glasses held high in tribute.

  Reenactors bring with them a multitude of talent and expertise, making conversation and entertainment extremely interesting and surreal in every sense of the word. They are also extremely practiced and convincing in their first-person persona.

  Jane is still a little freaked over one particular conversation that turned to stories from some of the officers of ghostly encounters and glowing orbs they had seen travel through the casemates or across the parade ground late at night. The creepy part is, she can never tell if they are being serious or not!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sophie’s promise of a wonderful time holds true and the evening has been a great success. At the end of the last dance, when the ladies are ready to retire after a full day and the men are left to their cigars and homemade brew of Oh Be Joyful, Sophie gets Jane’s attention, “Lets find a lantern and have a nice walk around the fort. It’s fun at night.”

  Sophie noticed Jane wore the birthday gift she had given her and had hung her special key on the chatelaine. “Maybe we should try your key in a door or two just for kicks.” Both girls are in high spirits and a walk will do them good. It’s a great way to end the day.

  The April night air is still cool so Sophie hands Jane one of her hooded capes made of soft lightweight wool, “You will need this for our walk.”

  The two friends carefully make their way to the worn spiral granite staircase on the north side of Fort Pulaski. This leads them to the upper level or terreplein. The night is crystal clear. A full moon and thousands of twinkling stars are out. The most brilliant Jane has ever seen. Simply breathtaking, “Wow.”

  Civilization and the lights of homes, businesses, signs, and roadways are vital to man’s existence; however, these modern day conveniences do not come without a price. To see the night’s star-studded sky in this remote area is something else. Few sights are more inspiring. Shoulder-to-shoulder, the two girls stand totally speechless for a time, gazing up into the heavens. Absorbed in the moment and their own thoughts.

  “This way,” Sophie finally breaks the spell and leads her friend along the terreplein, where the ground is quite flat. The moon is bright, so it is easy to navigate. Jane is careful not to step too close to the side. There is no safety railing to prevent a dangerous drop to the brick walkway below, should someone misstep.

  The two go by a number of menacing black cannons mounted on heavy brick and granite platforms, impotently posed as quiet reminders of their propitious past. Jane had read in a pamphlet that Robert E. Lee, during one of his visits to Fort Pulaski, dared to claim “they will make it pretty warm for you here with shells, but they cannot breach its thick walls.” Jane thinks this sounds a lot like the legend of the Titanic. Saying the ocean liner was unsinkable and believing this fort was impenetrable stands as a warning to human assumption.

  From the terreplein, there is a panoramic view of both north and south channels of the Savannah River. Jane can see its gray, shimmering outline.

  “Up in that direction,” Sophie points out, “is the northernmost barrier island, Tybee.”

  This is some of the information Jane had recently pulled up on the Internet about the area.

  “Did you know we’ve actually seen the wild horses from Cumberland? Along the shoreline, right over there, on the other side of the river. Not everyone knows they actually swim from one island to the next. To see them is something else.”

  “Very cool.” Jane leans over the wall to peer at the ominous black water of the moat below that has not one but two drawbridges for crossing. Earlier in the day, she had glimpsed a broad snouted alligator that used its tail to freely waggle its way, zigzag, along its boundaries. “I know this is a fort, but the way it’s laid out with a moat and all makes me think of a medieval castle.” Jane can see why the Confederate troops must have felt confident in the fort’s strength and position.

  Jane and Sophie carefully pick their way along the river’s side to another staircase leading back down to ground
level. There are several substantial black iron gates that divide the casemates in this section of the fort.

  Jane has her key ready to go, “Let’s see what happens. Nope, it doesn’t fit.” They move past the corner of the fort breached by Union cannon-fire and was rebuilt many years later, along the veranda and to another set of numbered casemates.

  “There’s another door in here along the wall.” Sophie holds her lantern up so Jane can see the long-since abandoned room with its wooden divider and old plank door. They both squeal as several enormous roaches dart into cracks along the floor.

  “Geez Louise! Hold your skirt up.” Sophie wobbles the lantern around to light the floor and at the same time grabs a handful of fabric to lift her hem up high. “This place gives me the creeps, but I wanted to show you anyway. The guys told me this section is original. There was a fire at one time that destroyed some of the fort. Luckily, it didn’t get this section. Look, that door there will take a key. It looks pretty old.”

  “Let’s try it then and get out of here.” Jane, with key in hand, hurries forward to the door. “Hold your lantern up high so I can see.” She hesitates for dramatic effect, “Better not be any ghosts in there.”

  This absurd notion causes a lot of giggling.

  “This is fun and spooky at the same time.” Sophie titters.

  Jane trails with her best ghostly call, “WooOOOooo . . . ” Laughing all the while, she finds her key slips in easily. “Hmmm.” She jiggles it a little, and “Oh my . . . ga-ahhh!”

  As the key makes perfect contact with the locking mechanism, the door pulls Jane forward with such force the wind is instantly knocked out of her. She hears Sophie’s muffled, gurgly screams from far off. The sound brings a flash of memory. One night with friends at a popular swimming hole. Cameron had misjudged a rope swing and somehow caught on a large limb at the muddy bottom. During their frantic dives, Jane heard Rebecca’s queer gurgled wail upon finding Cameron’s lifeless body underwater.

  What is happening to me! The roaring pressure in Jane’s head is so severe she fears her eardrums might burst. Everything is spinning with such velocity that she collapses hard to the ground. Gasping for air, she blindly claws at the uneven floor. Trying desperately to hold on. Please make it stop! She promptly throws up her dinner. Then, mercifully, there is nothing.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “These here critters are ‘bout ta drive me batty.”

  A hearty guffaw counters, “A good nitting is what you need, Jeb. I’d love to put a wager on one of ‘em big fat fellows. Win me some in the next louse race.”

  Jane opens her eyes to complete black, not even a crack of light. Disoriented, she tries to focus on the sounds she just heard. Was I knocked out? Where’s Sophie? She feels weird and slowly moves her arms and legs. Nothing’s broken. Other than a dull headache, she seems to be okay. What the heck just happened?

  Voices. It’s the guys speaking in first person. “Hey out there. I know you’re having fun with the whole lice thing and all . . .” Jane calls, “But I could really use some help here.”

  There is a moment of dead silence. Then, “Am I hearin’ things?” comes a shaky whisper, unsure, like he’s major creeped out.

  “Shhhh! Stay here and watch that door,” the other one clips, all humor gone. “Don’t say another word, ya hear!”

  Rolling onto her side, away from the wall where she’s wedged, Jane pushes up. With her dress all over the place it’s not easy, yet somehow she manages to stand. A little wobbly, but so far so good. The first thing she realizes is her wool cape is missing. Good Lord, Sophie is going to kill me! Jane searches blindly, not wanting to stray too far and having no luck finding it.

  “Not funny!” Jane croaks at the door between her and the outside. Her throat is scratchy and her mouth tastes bitter. She searches for the handle, an iron ring and pushes her weight against the door a couple of times. It doesn’t budge. “Seriously, open up and let me out of here!”

  Jane rests her head against the hard wooden surface. Nothing. She waits unwillingly and for what, she’s not sure. It isn’t long before there is an absurd amount of scrambling on the other side. With a profusion of grunts and scrapes, heavy objects are slid across the floor to make way.

  “Stand ready,” a gravelly voice orders in a thick Irish brogue. “Well, go on, open it. Careful now, gentlemen.”

  Jane watches in curiosity as the barrier to the outside creaks open. Dim, dusty light filters in through the doorway onto the floor where she has instinctively planted her feet in preparation.

  “Step out!” comes another order, this time stern and definitely not friendly.

  As Jane’s eyes adjust to her predicament, she sees a row of muddy men, huddled together and looking every bit like a bunch of wide-eyed raccoons. Three have rifles drawn, the tips of lethal bayonets pointed in her direction. She cautiously steps out into the adjoining room with her hands up, and feeling totally ridiculous for doing so.

  “This is too much! Come on you guys, enough is . . .” Jane stops in mid-sentence. So where did the Confederates come from? Hold on a minute, I don’t know these people.

  Sergeant Chap Murphy realizes his mouth has dropped open simultaneously with the young woman’s. He stifles his surprise, and inquires with regained composure, “And, madam, whot are yooo doing in my storeroom?” Chap throws up his right hand to stay his men.

  The man’s austere gape holds Jane in place. She is afraid to move, afraid to breathe. This is entirely too real!

  With a hand signal from the sergeant, two men in Confederate garb act quickly. The one out front carries a tin railroad lantern. As they pass, Jane shrinks from an offensive odor. They stink. She calls bravely over her shoulder, “While you’re checking, would you see if my cape is in there? It’s Sophie’s . . . hey. Hey!” She recoils as one of the creatures brushes a little too close on his return trip. “Really, now. What are y’all doing here anyway? Where is everybody?”

  “All clear, Sarg. Ain’t no sign o’ others.”

  “No duh!” Jane is basically annoyed at this point and she doesn’t appreciate being ignored.

  After a few edgy seconds, the sergeant finally tells the men, “Stand down.” The men immediately drop their rifles, in sync, and the tension in the air relaxes a bit.

  This must be one of those déjà-vu moments Ben was talking about. Even so, Jane is pretty ticked-off at this crazy stunt. There was no mention of Confederates or any of this.

  As Jane’s temper gage rises, the energy it gives off is accompanied by a sudden rush of panic, making her head buzz. Like she knows something she doesn’t really want to know. Why didn’t anybody warn me? Is this like one of those staged things they do? Where are my people? Where’s Sophie?

  “Well . . . urrr-ah, Miss?”

  Jane realizes the sergeant is waiting for an answer. “Oh! Okay. What am I doing in your storeroom?” she repeats his question. “Hmmm.” Coming up with something clever to say, some scenario to play along, isn’t so easy, “Look. All funning aside, I’m new to this reenacting thing, so give me a second, will you?” Surely they will stop this nonsense soon! Can’t they see I have no idea what I’m doing?

  “You are a strange one, lassie. By all means, take ALL the time in the world.” The sarcasm in Chap’s exaggerated tone causes a few of his men to laugh outright. He loudly clears his throat to silence the commotion and focuses back on the intruder.

  With a frown to match the sergeant’s, Jane assesses the short, stocky character with three deep furrows cut between bushy brows that are ostensibly set into a permanent scowl. She gets the feeling he is just as puzzled as she is.

  By his uniform, the poorly fitting light gray wool jacket with three stripes on the sleeve and smartly tilted kepi on his head, he’s undeniably Confederate. But who is he? What are all of them doing here? Jane becomes distracted by pain in her arm and hands. Her nails are broken and there’s blood on her fingers. Oh boy, queasy. What the heck is wrong with me?

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nbsp; Chap catches the woman’s noticeable change in pallor and reflexively steps forward, “Are ye hurt, then?” A notion that there might be some illness crosses his mind. This spawns immediate concern about how the infirmary would manage another, much less a woman, to their care. Doc already has his hands full with a dozen serious cases.

  Jane puts a trembling hand to her head, which is throbbing like crazy. “No. I’m okay. I just think I need to sit down for a minute,” she says weakly, feeling her knees giving out.

  The man’s rough demeanor softens considerably. Chap takes Jane’s arm. “We will get yoo ta safety. Yoo two men, come with me.” Then to the others, he snaps, “The rest of yoo knackers! Get back tar yer duties! Now!” With a firm grip, “Lean on me. That’s it.” Chap steadies the young woman and steers her out onto the veranda of Fort Pulaski.

  It’s still dark outside. Jane figures she must not have been out of it for very long. There’s hardly enough light to navigate. Where are the lanterns from earlier? Where’s the fluorescent glow from the public restrooms?

  Like a klutz, Jane loses her footing on an uneven surface, “What’s the hurry? Where is everybody?”

  “Keep yer voice down, lass,” Chap hisses. “Yer in enough trouble as it ‘tis.”

  What little she can see doesn’t register. Sounds and smells are different. Jane is on heightened alert and the hairs on the back of her neck are standing. A cold wash of horrible dread floods her senses. Something’s not right.

  And when things couldn’t seem more perplexing, a tremendous, deafening kaboom swells the air. Kaboom, kaboom! Three powerful explosions, in succinct order, rock the ground and everything around it. It lights human forms rushing by. Bent, sepia-tone silhouettes, rifles held tight to their chests. Before Jane has time to react, a hand presses down hard between her shoulder blades to shove her under a wooden cover into a room. She can smell fresh rain, moist lumber and earth as they pass through.