Point of Honor, page 24
Wake smiled up at Rork from the sternsheets of the boat as she shoved off, then he faced the bow and whatever was in front of them.
10
The Elephant’s Breath
The David had the boats in tow at four or five knots, according to Wake’s best estimate. He could see Erne scowling as he stood on the stern of the tug, arms akimbo, checking on the lines of boats being dragged to the distant shore. It was obvious he was angry.
Wake wiped away the cool spray that occasionally flew back into his face and thought about the speed that was making the spray. Fortunately the waves were small, making only the occasional splash but not big enough to slosh solid water aboard. It was an odd feeling, moving effortlessly through the water. Wake had never been towed in a ship’s boat by a steamer like this before. He was very appreciative they didn’t have to row or sail the five or six miles to the landing place. It would have been exhausting in the heat and humidity.
Trying to determine their position, Wake had a seaman swing the small lead stowed in the boat. At first it was almost two fathoms, but soon it became one, with a rocky bottom. That meant they were nearing the first of the reefs that paralleled the coast and that they should be two miles offshore. But that was impossible, as he could see with his own eye, and that meant the charts were wrong. If the charts were wrong this far out, the depths inshore might be completely different from those expected also. Worry about the depths then logically progressed to thoughts of the tides.
With the incoming flood tide believed by West and Wherley to crest at around eight o’clock in the morning, the operation had little time to get the naval landing party ashore, then go back out the seven miles or so to the steamers to start to bring in the soldiers. Originally, based on the charts they had and the estimation of the tides, the plan had been to get as many of the soldiers as possible ashore on the first high tide of the day. It was hoped they could land four or five of the infantry companies, approximately five hundred men of the eight companies of the regiment, ashore in that period. Then, at the second high tide of the day, around sunset, they would bring the remaining infantry, with the artillery battery. The critical factor for the boats bringing them in was the draft of the steamers. Drawing eight feet, they had to anchor far offshore, beyond the outer reef. The inner reef only had enough water for the tug, which drew five feet, a depth available for a couple of hours, at the most, on either side of high tide.
Wake could see that the planned timetable was falling apart. If the chart was wrong on the depths over the inner reefs, their situation could get even worse. It was frustrating having to follow orders without the authority to change them as the circumstances shifted. Too many factors in the plan were interdependent, and Wake knew he could not unilaterally alter the chain of events that were already under way without large consequences. Colonel Wherley and Lieutenant Commander West had made it abundantly clear to all the officers that this attack would go forward in spite of any particular officer’s reservations. He would continue onward, Wake decided, until some definitive obstruction made it obvious they should stop the attack.
Gradually a dark line made itself known on the horizon. Straight and without detail at first, it grew into an undulating smudge and then into individual treetops and blurs of sand and marsh. The lead still showed a fathom or more as they approached, but mud was being brought up astern of the tug.
The smoke from the two signal fires had vanished. No other fires were lit and no other signs of life could be seen ashore. However, the smoke from the tug was filling the air for all to see. It was obvious that the element of surprise was lost and the Rebels would know they were here. Wake wondered how the Confederates would respond. He knew from his latest landing experience that they could muster militia to this part of the Florida coast within two or three hours. He figured the fate of this operation depended upon how far away the militia was coming from.
Could the sailors get established ashore, set up a defensive work and hold it until the New Yorkers arrived? When the militia attacked—for Wake no longed permitted himself the luxury of wondering if they would attack—what would their force be comprised of? Would they have artillery or cavalry? The sailors had muskets and pistols. The request to carry a boat howitzer to the beach had been denied by West as taking up too much weight, which he said would be better used transporting more sailors.
The thought of a boat howitzer reminded Wake of the range of the gunboats’ weapons. They had anchored so far offshore that they were out of range and useless to help.
McDougall, seated next to Wake, had the same thought at the same time. He saw his captain look back at the distant gunboats and sagely wagged his head. “Aye, Captain. They’re of no use in this fight. We’re on our own here, for they’re too far away. The largest gun on both the Nygaard and the Bonsall is a hundred-pound Parrot rifled cannon. It can fire a six-point-four-inch shell five miles at thirty-five degree elevation and a ten-pound powder charge. But that means nary a thing ’cause those bastards’ll be watchin’ the fight, not partakin’ of it.”
Wake looked at the unruffled gunner and bobbed his head in return. “Then I presume that upon our return they’ll have to endure our tales of victory, right, Gunner McDougall?”
McDougall caught Wake’s tone and smiled. “Aye, Captain. There’s them that do, an’ them that watch others do the doin’. A shame there’s no prize money on this little dustup. Would make it a wee bit more enticin’ for a lad like me.”
“Good Lord, McDougall, you sound like Rork. Are all Irishmen as mad about money as you two?”
McDougall showed a rare laugh at his captain’s question. “Nay, Captain, many are worse!”
The bowman suddenly pointed ahead and yelled out a warning. “The tug’s slowing. Look at the mud!”
The water around them had turned into coffee, swirling about with seaweed and bottom mud everywhere. The tug slowed to a crawl with the boats in tow surging forward into her and each other. Shouts to fend off and steer away came from the small craft as the men on the stern of the David tried to keep the lines from fouling the propeller. The bowman called back to Wake that they were in a bit less than a fathom and that the tug ahead was plowing up the bottom.
As abruptly as they slowed, the tug crept faster again and the man with the lead told Wake they were past some sort of reef or bar and in a fathom and half. The shoreline in front of them was now coming into sharp detail and the beach could be seen to be a narrow strip of brown muddy sand between the water and tall marsh grass. The smell of the swamps drifted out to them, reeking of rotting plants and sulfur. All eyes on each boat searched for any indication of the enemy but found absolutely nothing. Not even the entrance to the Timucuahatchee River could be seen.
Wake wished he had insisted upon riding on the David so that he could confer with Erne as they approached the coast. Being a passive passenger irritated him and having to wonder what would be done next was infuriating. Wake tried to will the tug to turn to the north and go along the beach until they could find the river mouth. Minutes later, at seven-thirty-three by Wake’s pocket watch, the David turned to the south, swinging the boats behind her in a wild curve.
A half-mile down the beach they found it, proving Wake’s estimation wrong, and turned inland to ride the sluicing flood tide up the river. It was a narrow river, not more than a hundred yards wide. The lead showed just a fathom at the entrance, but once inside it got deeper as they went further up between the marsh and palm-covered banks.
Wake shuddered as he thought of the last river he had entered—just a month earlier. This one had the opposite appearance of that one though. Here no sign of human habitation could be seen, not even the small dock that was supposed to be a quarter mile inside the entrance, according to the plan. Instead they found a curve of rocky beach below a six-foot-high sand bluff on a bend of the river. The area behind the bluff was the only open land around, maybe an acre, surrounded by a tree line of oak and palm. Apparently that was the landing place. The river had narrowed to fifty yards at the most, the jungle-covered banks offering concealment to any Rebels who might be watching.
Erne returned to the stern of the tug and shouted to Wake that he was casting off the tows and they could row ashore here. The boats’ crews broke out their oars and rowed the few yards to the beach where they grounded and leaped out, moving through the shallow water, up the bluff and out into the open area behind it. The sailors went about their business quietly, with an unusual lack of noise or show. Usually when they were called upon to act like soldiers there was some cajolery, but not this time. This time it was as if they were trying not to disturb the area and awaken some malevolent force. Their faces showed more than concern—they showed fear.
With the boats back undertow again, the tug tried several times to back astern and turn in the current-swept narrow river, but Erne was clearly having difficulty with the maneuver. Wake saw his blond head moving from one side window to the opposite in the pilothouse of the tug, his arm gesturing to the bosun on the afterdeck who was overseeing the sailors trying to keep the towed boats from being damaged or fouling the propeller with their lines. Finally, when it seemed the bow of the David would not come around, she turned abruptly into the current and made speed against the flood tide, heading out to the ships far out to sea. The sailors in the boats and ashore watched as the tug left them and moved out the entrance of the river. No one said a word.
Wake walked ashore and climbed the bluff to survey his new domain. Out to sea he could see the anchored schooners and on the horizon the masts of the larger ships. They seemed impossibly far away. He shook his head slowly as his right hand absentmindedly traced the scar over his right ear. Turning inland, Wake walked over to where McDougall stood motioning for some men to bring the supplies up the bluff.
“McDougall, present my compliments, and I would like to see the ensigns and the senior petty officers in five minutes for a conference, right here.”
McDougall acknowledged the order and went off to notify the others. The open field was crowded with sailors now, some at the tree line facing outward with their muskets in a picket line and others busy hauling provisions and setting up canvas awnings for shelter. It all looked quite organized and efficient, but Wake didn’t like the current disposition of the defenses. It was too close, too confined. It reminded him of a similar navy beach camp at the Myakka River the year before, where the Rebs had quickly overrun the defense line and the camp. Only the guns of Wake’s armed sloop had prevented a massacre and saved many sailors’ lives that night. He didn’t want to be in that position again if he could help it. And this time there were no ship’s guns to save them.
McDougall came up to him and advised that the officers and senior petty officers were gathered for him, pointing to a group of men seated in a circle on packs and boxes under a sail awning by the edge of the bluff. Wake nodded to the gunner and walked over to his subordinate leaders.
“Well, gentlemen, we are here and I want to go over a few of the necessary things immediately so that there is not, and will not be in the future, any confusion.”
Wake stopped and looked around the group to ensure that he had their attention. The older men, the senior petty officers, wore the neutral expressions of veterans. They were waiting for orders and showed no emotion. Their confidence was such that they figured they could probably get through anything, even such an obviously misguided endeavor as the one they found themselves in. The younger ones, the ensigns, had rapt countenances. They knew they were unprepared for what was about to unfold and hoped Wake would dispense some profound plan of action that would give them the self-assurance they lacked.
“All right then. First we organize the men. Ensign Chase, you are the senior and will take the men from your vessel, the men from the Ariel, and the men from the Two Sisters. Bosun Ford, Coxswain Stanforth, and Gunner Simmons from the Ariel will assist you. I want you to take those thirty men and form a picket line out into the woods at least fifty feet. I want the picket line to have a breastwork cut from saplings and bushes, with the area in front of it cut down for at least thirty to forty feet. I want that accomplished before you have your noon meal. Understood?”
Chase and the petty officers voiced their understanding.
“Now, Ensign Robbins, you will take Bosun Kingston and the ten men from your schooner and form a reconnaissance to go up the road four miles toward Claresville. I want you to go and see what’s about in that area, but do not go into the town or engage any Floridians anywhere. If you see any, only observe and report back what you see. I want that done immediately and I want a report back from you in person within two hours. We need to have intelligence of what we face here in our immediate vicinity. You will provide it. Understood?”
Though Robbins and Kingston nodded their heads, it wasn’t good enough for Wake. Robbins did not appear to be very assertive and Wake worried that he might not control his men as needed.
“I could not hear your answer, Ensign Robbins. Repeat my instructions.”
Embarrassed, Robbins repeated the orders in a halting fashion but included everything Wake had told him. Wake was still not confident in the man but his point was taken and could not be belabored.
“Now, I will have Gunner’s Mate McDougall, Bosun Faber, Quartermaster Hilderbrandt of the Nygaard, and Bosun Meade of the Bonsall with me. We will have about sixty men in all. The petty officers will command the men from their own ships, and all will be under McDougall and me. Until the army arrives, my unit will form the main defense line here at the beach camp. Our line will be just inside the picket line, among the trees, with packs and boxes for positions of defense. If attacked before the New Yorkers arrive, we will all defend from within the trees, and if needed, we will withdraw to below the bluff and fire over the top and across the open ground. Understood?”
All the officers and petty officers spoke up and said they did.
“Very good, men. Once the army is here, they will push inland. My unit will follow along and guard Claresville once they capture it and move onward. Ensign Robbins’ unit will patrol the road between the camp here and Claresville to ensure our route of . . . departure. Ensign Chase’s unit will guard this camp. As the army is moving around the interior, the navy landing party will keep this area secure. Any questions?”
Kingston looked at the others and raised his hand. Wake nodded for him to go ahead.
“Sir, what do we do with any refugees that come up to us?”
It was a good question, one which Wake had overlooked.
“Excellent question, Kingston. All refugees will be sent back here, but, and this is very important men, they are to stay outside our defense lines. There are some among them who are treacherous. Have all of them over the age of sixteen swear the oath of national allegiance and document when they made it. Help them if you can, but do not trust them. Once we can arrange evacuation we will allow them to pass through our lines. Any refugee men who wish to join us and bear arms against the Rebs will be given the opportunity to enlist in the loyalist Florida militia later.”
Chase now had a question.
“Sir, what about the water side of our camp here. What do we defend it with? I don’t have enough men to cover everywhere.”
It was a sensible point. Wake thought that out and replied in an assertive voice. “The tug will guard that flank. We’ll have them anchor in the stream fore and aft. Good question, Mr. Chase.”
The men were asking good questions on issues that pointed out the vulnerability of the landing party without army support. Wake could see that each man was making the same mental assessment of their situation. None of them appeared encouraged at their prospects. Wake bid them to go on about their duties and stood up, signaling that the meeting was over. As the men walked back to their respective commands, Kingston stopped at Wake’s side. His thin body was tanned and weathered, with ropy muscles. The man was a veteran of at least ten years in the navy by his tattoos, rank, and demeanor. He looked into Wake’s eyes for a moment, then cast his gaze downward.
“Sir, Ensign Robbins just arrived in the squadron. Took the Fox the day we left St. Marks for here. He was in the North Atlantic Squadron off Virginia before. Ain’t used to the heat and the bugs down here, but he’ll get the hang of it. No disrespect intended, sir, but I just wanted to let you know that.”
Wake regarded the man in front of him. Not many would have said what he did. Not many would have had the self-confidence to say it. Wake remembered Kingston’s question about the refugees. He was a man to be remembered.
“No disrespect observed, Kingston. Thank you for that information. That reconnaissance must be well done, remember that.”
“Aye aye, sir. We’ll find out what the Rebs are up to out there.”
***
Two hours later—three hours after the sailors had first arrived at the landing—several reports reached Wake, who was seated with McDougall at their position within the main defense line in the trees. First, Faber reported that the ships’ boats could be seen coming up the river, without the tug and under oars. The tug could be seen anchored offshore of the inner reef. Evidently the tide had not served well enough to provide water for Erne to cross the reef and the soldiers had had to row their way to the landing. They were still near the mouth of the river and would take another hour to stem the flowing ebb tide that had commenced. That meant that it would be another eleven hours, somewhere around sunset, before they could get more reinforcements on the next tide.
The second report came to Wake moments after the first. Ensign Robbins and Bosun Kingston arrived in the camp, soaked with sweat and filthy from muck. Robbins made his report in a halting voice that hadn’t improved since the commanders’ meeting.
