Date: Tue, 17 Aug 2004 09:33:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation war clouds 10

This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and
then.  If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read
or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.

Seaward Plantation

War clouds chapter ten

From day to day, the people of Seaward felt as if a screw
were slowly being turned upon them, tightening the pressure.
At any moment they expected the return of Robert Ashley,
perhaps in force, or a landing of bounty hunters.  Their
resolve was strong, their nerves steady, but they felt
themselves to be in a war zone although nobody had fired
upon them as yet.  Mail continued to come, albeit more
sporadically now, in and out of Charleston, but the
irregularity had to do with the movement of armies and
governments far removed from the island.  It was the passage
of one of those mail boats that first broke the tension.

At the end of the third week of July, Troy and Hector had
taken the Hesperus out to meet the mail boat as usual.
Watch was kept on the pier and at the cemetery of course,
and the rest of the people were hard at work.  Appleby,
working in the chicken coop, caught a faint, vaguely
familiar sound.  Stepping outside, his whole body stiffened.
It was the sound of gunfire, not rapid but perhaps one shot
every minute.  It was more distant than the pier, although
it came from that direction.  Looking around, he saw other
people stepping out of buildings or putting down tools to
listen.

"Master, that's not a warning from the pier, is it?" asked
Priam, nearby.

"No...I don't know what it means.  Could it be.... could it
be from the Hesperus?  Did Troy and Hector encounter
trouble?"  Worried looks darted all around, and then with
one accord the mass of people began moving toward the pier.
"To stations!" cried Priam, as they ran.

Arriving at the pier, they found Pan in a state of
consternation, looking seaward.  Turning to his friends, as
Appleby and Priam led the pack up the pier, he said, "It's
the Hesperus, I think....firing shots every now and then.
But they are moving away from the mail boat and toward us,
and I don't see any reason for distress.  Yet, there are
those shots."  Another one broke the air now, clearly coming
from the sailboat that was approaching rapidly before a
stiff breeze.  "Should I have rung the bell?" asked Pan.

"No, I think you did the right thing," said Appleby.  "Let
us see what it is.  I think maybe just you and Bacchus might
load some shotguns and be in the cabin of the Harmony in
case of trouble," he added.

Closer and closer the boat came, then it was within hailing
distance.  Troy's voice, faint but clear, could be heard:
"Get Portia!  Get Master Mark!"  Portia came pushing up past
her friends at that to clutch at Appleby's arm.  The two of
them looked at each other--what could such a summons mean if
not some news of Marcus?  Appleby snapped a spyglass to his
eye, as did Priam.

"Do you see anything?  Is it Marcus, is he there?" asked
Portia.  "No," replied Appleby, and Priam seconded that
opinion.  The mystery deepened, then, and the Hesperus came
closer and closer to the pier.

Just feet away from the pier, many hands reached out to
catch ropes and secure it to the pier; but before it even
stopped moving, Troy leaped from the boat onto the pier,
thrusting forward a grey rectangle.  Portia, shaking by now,
whispered "Take it, open it" to Appleby.  He did so.

It was a letter, folded and sealed, originally on white
paper but grubby with wear.  The address read, "My Family,
Seaward Plantation, off the coast of Charleston, South
Carolina."  It was written in a hand that, while not
childish, seemed not quite adult either. With shaking
fingers, Appleby broke the seal and opened it up.  He looked
at the very end and cried out, "It is from Marcus."  Gasps
and cries went up from the group, while Helen and Athena
crowded in to support Portia on both sides.  "Read it, read
it, I cannot," she said, weeping, nearly in a state of
collapse.  Appleby nodded and began, but in a shaky voice.

"It is dated June the first....Dear me, how long it took to
get here.  Alright:  Dear Seaward family, and especially
Mama and Papa Mark."  His voice broke, and he required a
moment to compose himself.  "I am fine.  To tell you right
away what I am doing, I am in the army!  I am a drummer boy
for the First Massachusetts regiment!  I am in the Federal
army!  I am safe and am fine."

"In the army!"  gasped Portia.  "Safe and fine, and he is in
the army?!"  Appleby continued.

"I am sorry that I left like I did, especially because I
thought I would be with Papa Bundit, but I could not find
him when I got off of the Hesperus.  I looked for him, but
he wasn't anywhere.  So then I looked for a ship and found
one that was going north.  It was British, so I didn't think
they would try to make me a slave.  They teased me about
being alone, and so young, but I made up a story and paid
for a cheap passage below the decks.  It was not too bad.  I
took it to New York and got off.  That is a big city!  In
the railroad station I found lots of men in uniform who were
going to war.  They were from lots of different states.  But
one was called the 'First Massachusetts' and I remembered
that is where Papa Mark is from, so I asked if I could join
it.  They said I could, and they taught me how to play the
drums and gave me a uniform.  I use the drums to tell the
men when they should fight, when they should quit, how to
march, and that kind of thing.  Colonel Richardson is our
commander, over lots of other regiments, too

"I am treated well.  I am writing this in Virginia, just
outside of the city of Washington.  We have not had a battle
yet, but everyone says there will be a big battle and the
rebels will get beat and then everyone will come home.
Everyone is surprised that I can read and write.  I write
some letters for some of the men.  I am making lots of new
friends.

"The food is alright, but not really good, not like we have
on Seaward.  I hope this letter gets to you, they said it
might take a long time especially because it has to go
across the rebel lines.  I am afraid that I have made you
worry, and I am sorry.  I am fine.  Give everyone my love.
Love, Marcus."

A silence filled the air, and then Appleby and Portia
embraced tightly, both sobbing in relief but also caught up
in a new set of worries that had taken the place of the
older troubles.  The air buzzed with discussions of the
news, and whether it was good or bad tidings.  The boys
looked as if they themselves would like nothing better than
to be off in the army, while the girls looked worried.

Priam suggested that everyone return to their work, so the
company drifted back up toward the buildings and fields.
Appleby and Portia walked back together, talking, trying to
console each other.  Reaching the main house Appleby settled
on the verandah to look through the rest of the mail.  Troy
had also retrieved the mail coming out from Charleston; he
usually waited for both vessels to pass.  Both ingoing and
outbound bundles were sparse, but among the messages from
town was a cordial note penned by the colonel in charge
announcing a meeting of the Militia on the first Friday of
August, about two weeks distant.  So Robert's news was
confirmed.  Appleby was of contrary thoughts as to the
matter of attending, but decided to put off the decision
until later.  Sorting the letters and newspapers into piles
for later work, he returned to the chicken coop.  Throughout
the rest of the day, his thoughts as well as those of
everyone else on Seaward were of the remarkable news from
Marcus.  It would bring extra poignancy to the coverage of
the war in the newspapers that they still received, although
those were often weeks late.

As was increasingly the case, most of the people of Seaward
worked into the evening.  Appleby worked in the study by
lamplight until late, at one point writing a letter with
Portia that they would try to send to Marcus, although with
little hope that it might actually get through.  When Portia
left, Appleby decided he would take a bath before retiring
as he was feeling rather grimy from the day's activities.
He pumped a full tub of water, heating enough of it on the
bath room stove to make it comfortable, and was just
settling in when he heard footsteps in the hallway.  The
door opened and there stood Samuel with a towel in his hand,
clad only in trousers.

"Oh, Master Mark!  I'se sorry.... I am sorry," he said,
correcting himself.  Appleby smiled to see that the
community's "lessons" in proper speech, along with reading
and writing, were beginning to take effect with the new
arrivals from Ashley.  "I'll come back later," he said.
Appleby smiled at him, and a series of images flashed
quickly through his mind.  When they first met, at the slave
market, and Appleby had fondled the ten year old boy....he
had never discussed that with Samuel and, for all he knew,
the young man did not now remember it--various experiences
at the Ashley Plantation involving Samuel, or watching
Samuel, in one or another of Robert's extravagant tableaux.
Appleby looked at the skinny chocolate brown body, muscular
but thin, and a twitch of both desire and affection moved in
him.

"No, Samuel, it's alright.  I just got in.  Would
you....would you like to join me?  There is room."  Samuel
grinned, his eyes now traveling down Appleby's naked torso,
the lower parts distorted by water and suds.  "Alright,
master, yes, I'd like that," he said.  Laying the towel
aside, he dropped his trousers--it was all he wore--and
stepped up to the tub.  Stepping over the edge and into the
water, Appleby could see the wrinkled, oily black ballsack
beneath the hanging, curved dark brown penis which was just
beginning to swell.  Samuel slid down gracefully with his
back to Appleby, sitting between the white man's bent legs.

"Let me wash your back," said Appleby, and soaping his hands
well he began scrubbing and kneading the hard but thin
muscles, the rolling shoulder muscles and broad, low hills
of the back.  Down below the surface of the water he slid,
scrubbing with his fingers at the top of his hips.  Water
made Samuel's chocolate skin shine in the lamplight, sheets
and rivulets of water visible as they rolled down the sleek,
smooth brown.  Soaping his fingers again, Appleby lathered
up Samuel's neck and ears, then worked suds into the crisp
cap of black hair.  Rinsing this off, he whispered "Lean
back" into Samuel's ear.

Now reaching around in front, Appleby lathered suds across
the thin, smooth, hard planes of his chest, tweaking the
nipples, and down below the water line across the hard tube
of his abdomen.  His fingers slid into the small patch of
crinkly pubic hair, then he reached down around the base of
the shaft to gently caress the scrotum, now drawn up tight.
His hands slid up again and grasped the rigid shaft, now
fully erect.  Samuel sighed and laid his head back against
Appleby's neck and cheek, pushing himself back into the
white man's torso, riding up on Appleby's penis that lay on
the bottom of the tub beneath the firm bottom of the black
man.

Appleby slowly ran his fist up and down the shaft, squeezing
and bending the dickhead at the top of each cycle.  Groaning
with pleasure, Samuel suddenly pulled himself up a bit out
of the bath, and reached around behind and below him.
Grasping Appleby's rigid cock, he held it to his own anus,
then lowered himself on it.  He moaned with both pleasure
and pain as he impaled himself fully, then waited a moment
for it to pass.  Now Samuel began to bob up and down,
supporting himself with his arms on the side of the tub, as
Appleby continued to masturbate the black rod with his hand.
In rhythm the two moved as one.  Breathing became heavier as
both men labored together. Then with a gasp, Samuel threw
his head back against Appleby's neck and moaned, crying out
"O! yes, O! Master!" as ropes of semen oozed out of his
penis beneath the water.  The tightening of his butt muscles
as he squeezed the white fluid out put an irresistible
pressure on Appleby's own organ.  He could hold back no
longer and pushed forward, shooting his own sperm into
Samuel's waiting rectum while, with his free hand, he pulled
the black man's torso back into his own.

The two sat like that, breathing heavily for a few moments,
then Appleby removed his hand from the wilting black shaft
and hugged Samuel tightly.  "Thank you, master," he
whispered.  A few more minutes of cuddling passed, and then
Samuel slowly rose, pulling up off of Appleby.  The white
man gave his own penis another good scrub with the soap,
then rose and joined him.  Smiles and appraising looks
passed between the two as they dried off and the tub
drained.

"Samuel," said Appleby, "would you like to spend the night
with me?"  Aaron and Hammond had gotten into the happy cycle
of sleeping where the moment's inclinations dictated, and so
far as he knew Appleby had no other bed partner for the
evening.  Samuel nodded happily and, freshly scrubbed, the
two walked up the stairs to bed.

Everyday living under a war cloud took a somewhat different
tone with the letter from Marcus.  Newspapers were carefully
scrutinized for news of the war, especially for any mention
of the First Massachusetts regiment.  The lag of time
between the publication of a newspaper or the mailing of a
letter and their arrival on Seaward became more of an
irritation before.  The island now had a stake in the
distant war as well as the one close at hand.

As the first Friday in August approached, Appleby could not
decide what to do about the announced meeting of the
Militia.  The Wednesday before, he brought the subject up
once again as most of the people of Seaward were relaxing on
the verandah in the evening.

"I wonder whether I can refuse an invitation from the
colonel," he said.  "If it came from Robert I wouldn't care
a bit, but as long as I am 'military' and as long as some of
the protection for Seaward is its standing as a
fortification of South Carolina, aren't I obliged to go?" he
asked.

"What if it's a trick, master?" asked Helen.  "Are you sure
the letter came from the colonel?"

"I'm pretty sure it did.  Is there a way to go with more
caution, I wonder?  Perhaps to keep a pistol under my belt
and to make sure that the boat has a good stock of arms?"
Appleby wondered.

"I don't know, master, I just have a bad feeling about
this," Helen replied.  She looked at Athena, who only shook
her head and muttered "I can't tell."

"Maybe you could find a berth not on the usual pier and slip
into town unnoticed, then see what the lay of the land is,"
suggested Hector.  Appleby thought about that for a moment.

"I think you are right, Hector, good idea.  We can use
stealth.  I think I may also write my attorney, Horatio
Smith, and ask him to be at the meeting hall just in case.
Troy, can you take a letter out to the mail boat tomorrow?"
With Troy's agreement, plans were made.  Appleby would go to
the meeting, but not without some trepidation.

That Friday morning dawned, and Troy and Priam met Appleby
at the Hesperus.  Each had a revolver concealed beneath a
jacket, and carbines and shotguns were hidden in the cabin.
They agreed that only Appleby would venture ashore this
time.  There was less and less a supply of staples in town
as the war and hoarding took its toll.  At any rate, there
was a need to guard the Hesperus.  Contingency plans were
laid out with a strict timetable.  If Appleby had not
returned by four o'clock in the afternoon, they were to
assume the worst and were to contact Horatio Smith to
intervene.  Appleby wrote them a letter to give to the
attorney in that event, even though Smith had been asked to
attend the meeting.

The Hesperus put off, sailing into a southwest breeze, and
tacked its way to the entrance to the harbor.  There was
still a fair bit of shipping coming and going; was the
Federal government ever going to send a navy to interdict
this traffic, Appleby wondered.  Clearly it constituted an
economic artery for the South, but no Union warships had yet
appeared on the waters of the harbor.  What preparations had
his friends in the North made, he wondered, and had Uncle
Gideon....but he put those thoughts aside for a later day.
They slipped past shore batteries and the brooding mass of
Fort Sumter, now claimed for South Carolina.  Sliding past
the usual pier, the Hesperus found another berth and docked
near the very end of a long pier.

Back on Seaward, Helen, Athena, Bundit, and Hammond worked
with the children in the vegetable patches.  "I wish they
hadn't gone," Helen muttered, to herself as much as to
anybody else.

"It is a frightening prospect to go into Charleston at this
time, I agree," said Bundit, "but I think Master Mark had
few options.  I wonder if he will run into Robert Ashley
again.  I know that my blood froze when I saw him on the
deck of the Swan from the cemetery, surveying us with his
own spyglass."  Everyone nodded agreement and continued
working for a moment.  Suddenly Helen stood up and dropped
her hoe.

"Bundit....you saw Robert Ashley from the cemetery?  How?"

"Through my spyglass.  He was on the Swan."

"And he had a spyglass?"

"Yes."

"Who else saw him?"

"I did," said Hammond, "Master Mark and I ran up there right
away."

"Well," said Helen, "if you both saw Ashley clearly,
then.... how do we know he didn't see you two?  And if he
saw you two, especially Hammond, then he has firm evidence
to arrest Master Mark.  He couldn't do it by himself when he
was here, and perhaps he did not want to risk trying to land
in force against our cannon, but....I don't like this, not
one bit."

The four stopped their work and looked at each other in
consternation.  "We must call the others and talk this
over," said Athena.  They left their work immediately and
gathered the remaining adults, except for Cassius who was on
watch at the cemetery and Bacchus who was on watch at the
pier.  They turned the matter over, looking at it every way
they could.

"Should we take the Harmony into Charleston?" asked Samuel.

"The Harmony can't take on the forts and batteries of
Charleston," said Cass.  Juno agreed, adding, "They have
been gone two hours by now.  If someone is to arrest Master
Mark, they would likely be doing it about now.  What can we
do?"

Hector looked darkly around the group.  "The best way we can
help is to be ready to repel an enemy IF there is trouble
and IF the Hesperus can get away from it.  Otherwise, that
is right, we can do no good sailing into the harbor and
presenting a second boat to be captured.  We need to let the
lookouts know to be on the watch for trouble, and then....I
think we need to have some crews down by the cannon until
the Hesperus returns."  This plan was discussed and
approved.  Messengers were sent to Cassius at the cemetery
lookout, while the rest of the group put themselves into the
order of battle planned upon for an assault on the pier.
Everyone had a place, not the least the pregnant women, four
months along now and just beginning to show.  There were
grim faces as shot and powder were prepared next to the
cannon.  They settled down and waited, fear and anxiety
barely kept at bay by the peacefulness of the August
morning.

Appleby stepped onto the pier, looking down its length.
Nothing seemed untoward.  Nodding at Troy and Priam, he
looked toward the shore.  For their parts, Troy and Priam
lounged around the Hesperus looking nonchalant and without
purpose--but a loaded shotgun and carbine each were within a
second of picking up.  It seemed like an ordinary summer
day, people coming and going, barrows being pushed up and
down the pier, barrels stacked here and there.  Buttoning
his jacket over the revolver tucked into his belt, Appleby
began walking toward the shore.

Reaching the boardwalk that ran perpendicular to the piers,
Appleby turned, intending to follow that up the street
toward the center of the city where the meeting hall stood.
He walked several yards and heard an urgent whisper.

"Masta!  Masta Mark Appleby, suh!"

Appleby stopped dead in his tracks and looked around.  On
the inland side of the boardwalk, sitting down low among
some stacked crates, was Rodney, Robert Ashley's slave, with
a large straw hat on.  Rodney's head was up just enough so
that Appleby could see his eyes, which darted left and
right.  He whispered again.  "Doan' go any mo', masta, they
gonna 'rest you!"

"They....what?  Who, Rodney, who is going to arrest me?"
Appleby  was alarmed now.

"Shhh!  masta!  down theah by the pier you useta stop
at...dem soljuhs, dey gonna rest you!  Ah cain't say no mo'
masta, but RUN!"  Rodney dropped his head, the hat coming
down over his face, and seemed to melt back into the space
in his immobility.

The air throbbed like a big, slow heart.  Appleby looked
down the pier and saw a small company of soldiers in uniform
clustered at the head of the pier where he usually berthed
the Hesperus.  He caught his breath--could it be true?
Could they possibly be there for him?  Then a passing porter
pushed a wheelbarrow out of the way, revealing the back of a
fancy dress naval uniform--Robert Ashley!  Slowly, Ashley
turned, stamping his foot impatiently, surveying the scene,
looking to the side--and from yards away, their eyes met.

"There he is!" cried Robert, pulling out a sword and
pointing it dramatically at Appleby.  "Halt, sir!  You are
under arrest!  After him!"  The soldiers swarmed around
picking up weapons, bumping into each other and Ashley for a
second or two and then--down the boardwalk they came.
Stunned, Appleby finally came to his senses, turned, and ran
for his life.  Coming to the pier he turned again and paused
to assess the situation.  The company of soldiers was now
well formed and charging him, rifles in hand.

"Fire!" he heard Robert say, and was turning to run again
when the foremost soldier stopped, took aim--and then put
his rifle down.  It was Silas Hornsby.  "No!" Silas cried, a
look of horror on his face to see who his quarry was.
"Fire!" screamed Robert, coming up behind the company.
Appleby locked eyes with Silas, unable to move for a long
moment.  The world went into slow motion, and even the rest
of the company halted to give Silas his best chance at a
shot.  Then Silas lifted the rifle, cocked the hammer, aimed-
-and lifted the barrel an inch higher and fired.  "Dang,
sir, I missed!" he cried.  Fear warred with gratitude in
Appleby's mind, but the sound of the shot broke his
paralysis and he began running pell mell down the pier with
the company of soldiers some yards behind him.  A tremendous
commotion began on the pier, as people dove out of the way,
scattering at the sound of the shot and the sight of running
men.

Down the length of the pier went Appleby, with the company
close behind him.  Far ahead at the very end he could see
that Troy and Priam had already been alerted by the sound
and were untying the Hesperus as quickly as they could.
Looking over his shoulder, Appleby could see that, although
he was outrunning the company, they would likely catch him
before the Hesperus could get under way, and would certainly
be within rifle range.  Looking desperately as he ran, he
paused to turn a barrel onto its side and pushed it, rolling
it back down the pier like a bowling ball.  Running a few
more yards he stopped for a moment to pull down a tower of
crates, then another one.  They were diversions that paid
off.  Reaching the end of the pier he saw that Troy had
already pushed the Hesperus off, carefully calculating
Appleby's distance and speed.  A tremendous leap across an
eight foot span and Appleby landed against the side of the
hull, his legs dangling over water, his torso hanging down
over the deck.  Priam pulled him over onto the deck where he
lay for a moment trying to breathe, the wind knocked out of
him by his collision with the hull.

He did not have the luxury to wait long.  Gasping, his belly
and sides feeling as if they would burst, Appleby crawled up
to the low wall around the stern deck.  Troy, halfway down
into the cabin, tossed him a carbine and sack of cartridges,
and brought out a carbine and a shotgun for himself.  Priam
busied himself forward, opening as much canvas as he could,
adjusting the boom to catch the wind.  The Hesperus was only
a few yards out from the pier when the company of soldiers
finally reached the end of it.  Rifles came up to shoulders.
But Appleby had by then seized the shotgun and fired one
barrel.  A rain of buckshot swirled toward the company.  Two
of the rifles fired, but wildly as their sharpshooters fell
to the pier to take cover.  Appleby discharged the second
barrel of the shotgun.  By then Troy had reached the tiller,
which he held with one hand while with the other he trained
the carbine on the soldiers.

Appleby prayed that none of these soldiers were Silas, but
there was no way to know.  Black clouds from the gunfire
obscured the view from the stern, then rolled away.  Some of
the soldiers were down, but whether from wounds or from
cowering Appleby could not tell.  He seized the carbine and
was never more glad that he had ordered the very latest
model, able to fire up to ten rounds per minute.  The
soldiers were still using slow muzzle loaders.  While Troy,
occupied with steering, fired in the general direction of
the end of the pier, Appleby was able to pick his shots more
carefully.  The effect of a steady beat of shots was
devastating, and the company quickly withdrew....but now
three men were down on the pier and did not go with them.
Some part of Appleby's heart broke, but now all his
concentration was focused on making their escape.

The Hesperus caught a breeze--thankfully, the southwest wind
still held--and began running before the wind, moving away
from the piers.  Appleby quickly scanned the array of
vessels still at berth, and then his heart froze.  Men were
scurrying over the C.S.S. Saluda and smoke was shooting up
in a plume from her stack--Robert had evidently ordered her
boilers to be fired up.  An armed vessel with a fearsome
thirty-two pound cannon was very soon going to be in
pursuit, and it was faster than the Hesperus and not
dependent on the wind.

There was nothing more to be done.  Priam had put on every
scrap of sail and was monitoring the boom and ropes closely,
catching the best angle possible.  Troy steered the most
direct course he could, looking back over his shoulder.
Appleby turned to look at him, then at Priam.  "The Saluda,"
he said.  "The armed side-wheeler.  They are firing her
boilers.  They will be after us in a few moments."  All
three realized what that meant.  Now they realized that
every yard they could travel would buy them some time, but
they also knew that the side-wheeler could quickly make up
that distance.

Appleby busied himself reloading the shotgun and carbines,
making sure there was a good supply of ammunition within
easy reach.  He piled what equipment he could against and
above the stern to make a barrier against small arms fire,
although it was laughably inadequate against a thirty-two
pound shell.  And then there was nothing to do but hope.

The Hesperus scudded along past other craft, slipping past
ominous but silent shore batteries.  Appleby got out a
spyglass and scanned the harbor area.  His body tensed as he
announced, "They are coming.  The Saluda is underway."  He
exchanged looks with Priam and Troy.  Priam slipped back
from the bow area and bent down to embrace Troy and Appleby.
"We will do what we can, but we will not be taken," he said,
and his friends agreed.  "Save your last shot," he added,
and they fully knew what the last shot would be for.

In a few minutes the shape of the Saluda could be made out
among the other craft, smoke rising from her stack, water
spraying from the sidewheel as she churned along at top
speed.  Closer it came, details becoming clear to the naked
eye.  With the spyglass, Appleby could make out Robert
Ashley, but not Silas; he prayed the latter had been left
ashore, as infantry and not a sailor.

It was then that Robert's purposes began to be set back by
his own fury and flair for the dramatic.  Or, perhaps he was
trying to get the attention of the shore batteries.
Whatever the reason, the Saluda fired her cannon.  The
report could be heard as a huge plume of water rose up out
of the harbor behind them and away off to starboard.
Appleby swiveled the spyglass around to see what the
reaction would be on the shore batteries, as they had just
passed Fort Sumter.  He could see movement of soldiers, but
they seemed not to be preparing their cannon to fire.  And
indeed, it would not be clear yet what their target was,
since the Saluda was essentially firing recklessly into a
harbor full of vessels of all sorts.  To the observer
suddenly drawn to the scene, it would not be clear that she
pursued the one sailboat that was the Hesperus.

Turning the glass back on the Saluda, it was also clear to
Appleby that every time she fired the ponderous thirty-two
pounder on the carousel of her forward deck, it set her
progress back a little, for the recoil rocked the ship and
swerved her out of her course for a moment.  Appleby was
then grateful that the Saluda had been converted from
commercial purposes and had not originally been intended for
such a weapon.  The more she fired, the slower she would
be....unless she found her mark.

On the Hesperus sailed, running before the wind, while the
Saluda closed in slowly, yard by yard.  The Hesperus
approached the pincers of land that separated the harbor
from the sea, as another shot sent a huge plume of water up-
-this time a little closer.  Into the ocean she slipped, and
a few minutes later the Saluda followed her.  "Look!"  Troy
said, pointing toward the distant smudge of Seaward.  A
small plume of smoke was rising from in front of that
smudge.

Back on Seaward, the tension had grown over the last hour or
two.  Clustered around the cannon on the pier, the people
tried to make light conversation, but it was no use.  Then
the bubble of tension was burst by two sounds.  One was the
ringing of the bell from the cemetery ridge--frantic
ringing, one might say.  Then the ringing stopped.  Cassius
would soon appear, out of breath from a headlong run, to
give them news that by then they had guessed already.  For
Hector, standing atop the cabin roof of the Harmony, had
made out with his spyglass the distant sail of the Hesperus,
and had seen a line of smoke behind her as well as columns
of water and spray starting up in the ocean close behind the
Hesperus, and he knew--whomever had managed to escape from
Charleston was being hotly pursued by a steamer.

"Arm the cannon!" he declared, relating what he had seen.
"Pan, Bacchus, fire up the boilers."  They had had the
foresight to keep a low fire going in the Harmony, but now
the coal was piled on as the steam pressure built to
maximum.  Cassius arrived then to confirm what they thought
they had seen on the shore.  As Pan and Bacchus shoveled
coal, Cassius and Hector loaded the small twelve-pounder on
the carousel of the Harmony's forward deck.  They were
making ready to put to sea for war.

On the Hesperus, Appleby could not yet make out a specific
image of events at Seaward, but he and his friends quickly
came to the correct conclusion that the Harmony was about to
come out to their rescue--or to share their fate.  They had
no doubt of the heroism of their friends, but that same
certainty might mean certain doom.  Discussing the matter
quickly, Priam proposed a plan.

"Look here, we are heading more or less directly toward
Seaward," he said, and now a tremendous explosion of water
occurred, still behind them and to port, but getting closer.
The men hung onto the ropes of the Hesperus as she bucked
forward from the shock of the explosion.  "If they are
sending the Harmony out, they will also arm the shore
cannon, which have a longer range than anything on any of
these vessels.  But the cannon will be much less effective
having to shoot over us at the bow end of the Saluda.  I
suggest we head for the southern tip of Seaward, leading the
Saluda that way...then just as we are within range of the
shore batteries we turn to port, sailing parallel to shore,
and lead the Saluda broadside under the guns of our three
cannon.  The Harmony will see what we are doing and can pick
her own place to join the fight."

The plan was instantly agreed to, and the Hesperus changed
course a little to starboard, following Priam's suggestion.
He returned to the bow to manage the sails, while Troy
steered and Appleby did what he could to help.  Another
explosion erupted in the water, right where they had been a
couple of minutes before, before changing course.  Appleby
now took up his carbine and, although the range was hopeless
for any kind of accurate shooting, angled the sights so as
to hope that the occasional lead ball would rain down on the
Saluda.

"What are they doing?" asked Cassius, noting the change in
direction of the Hesperus with his spyglass.  "They are
heading for the southern end of Seaward....why?"  Hector
thought for a moment.  "I...I think they will soon turn and
head north.  That is what I would do.  I think they mean to
lead their pursuer broadside before the cannon."  Running
back down the pier toward the cannon, he informed the crews
of his opinion and asked them to be ready to fire should
such a possibility occur.  Running back to the Harmony, Pan
answered his question before he could ask it.  "We have a
full head of steam up.  We are ready to sail."  They cast
off the Harmony and her screws began to turn, chugging away
from the pier, just as the Hesperus could be seen to swerve
hard to port and begin to come up to the north, parallel to
the Seaward shore.

On the Hesperus, the turn was just in time as a blast threw
water up quite near to where they had been.  Now their
situation would be even more desperate, for it took but a
moment for the Saluda to detect the change of course.  The
Saluda then turned, coming down the hypotenuse of the
triangle, with the Hesperus running along the base.  In
other words, the Saluda was now closing even more rapidly
than she had before, but was also presenting more of her
flank to the shore batteries.

Appleby could no longer aim the carbine and simply settled
into the stern, helping Troy with the tiller.  Closer and
closer came the explosions of water from the Saluda's gun
even as the Hesperus came closer and closer to the range of
fire for the shore batteries on the island.  After a hurried
discussion, Troy and Appleby decided for evasion over speed,
and began tacking in a zigzag pattern.  Meanwhile, the
Saluda was nearing the end of that hypotenuse and, not far
behind the Hesperus, was just turning to charge after her
directly, now presenting nearly her full broadside to the
shore batteries.

Was Robert so consumed in pursuing the Hesperus that he
ignored other dangers?  Was he so enraged at Appleby that
other costs were meaningless to him?  He had just turned the
Saluda into line directly behind the Hesperus and was
preparing what would have been a deadly salvo with the gun
on the forward deck, when there was a tremendous crash and
his ship shuddered and wallowed to the side.  Wood and
splinters flew into the air as the sidewheel of the Saluda
exploded into a thousand fragments.  Injured sailors
screamed.  The Harmony, steaming directly at the Saluda, had
fired its cannon right into the sidewheel and destroyed it
with one salvo.  The Saluda's forward momentum kept it
going, but it began to skew in its track.

"Never mind that!" screamed Robert.  "Fire on that sail!"
The crew struggled to their feet, aimed the thirty-two
pounder at the Hesperus which was now not far from them at
all, and fired.

Several things happened at once.  The sound of the roaring
deck gun of the Saluda was echoed half an instant later by
the roar of three cannon from Seaward.  All three had aimed
for the scar made by the destruction of the sidewheel, the
weakened spot in her armor.  And all three found their mark.
Another half an instant after the shell left the Saluda's
cannon, the three Seaward shells converged on her amidships.
There was a tremendous crash, then a halo of steam flashed
out around her as her boilers were cracked open, and
then...her magazine blew.  A blinding flash, and the entire
ship blew apart, gunpowder stores ignited all at once.
There was not enough left to sink as a million bits and
pieces of the ship, of her men, flew into the air.

But the shell....the shell had left her forward gun.  And in
the same instant that the Saluda exploded, her last shell
found its way to the bow of the Hesperus.  It ripped into
the hull just above the water line with tremendous force.
The vessel broke in two, the stern half flipping up and
throwing Appleby and Troy into the water.  The bow half
exploded from the shock of the impact and shattered
completely.

Lost and dazed for a moment, aching all over, the cold sea
water brought Appleby back to his senses just enough to
remind him to stay afloat.  "Troy!" he cried, "Priam!"
"Here!" he heard a voice gasp, and a few yards from him was
Troy, his face a mask of pain but grasping a floating plank.
A few yards from them was the overturned stern of the
Hesperus.  There was a loud glugging sound, a hiss, and what
was left of the vessel slipped beneath the waves.  "Priam!"
shouted Appleby, looking desperately around.

From behind them and to the side, they could hear the
churning of the Harmony as it reversed screws, having come
up to the wreckage as fast as it could.  "Find Papa!" cried
Troy, as loudly as he could.  Four men on the Harmony and
two in water scanned the water, chunky with wreckage, and
then Cassius pointed not far off the bow and said "There!"
It was on Appleby's side.  Overcoming his pain, he swam in
that direction.  Bobbing on his stomach, back up, was Priam.

"Hang on, old man," Appleby gasped, "We will get you out."
The Harmony bobbed up to them then, with Troy on the other
side.  Bacchus and Pan reached down to pull Troy out, while
Hector and Cassius reached for Priam on their side.  Appleby
turned Priam over in the water....and screamed.  Protruding
from the muscular chest was a splinter of wood an inch wide
and three inches long above the wound; no telling how far it
went in.

Struggling in his pain to stay afloat but to push Priam up,
Appleby did what he could to assist Hector and Cassius as
they drew Priam up out of the water.  By the time Appleby
clambered aboard, Priam was stretched out on the deck   A
pool of watery red spread on the deck beneath him.  Troy and
Hector were beside him, slapping his face, weeping, rubbing
his skin, making inarticulate sounds.  It was no use.  Priam
was gone.

Stunned, Pan and Bacchus turned the Harmony toward the
shore.  Appleby sat as if poleaxed on the deck, trying to
catch his breath.  He was sure he had broken a rib, so great
was the pain in his side.  As the Harmony chugged up,
slowly, to the pier, the people of Seaward came running out
from behind the stone walls in front of the cannon.  As they
approached, they saw the terrible sight on the deck.

Grief.  Black grief.  Inconsolable grief.  Cass wailed and
fainted away.  Helen threw herself on her father's body as
it lay on the deck, staining herself with his blood that
still leaked out.  Some roared, some wept, some simply sat
in silence.  After some bleak minutes, a few rose up and
seized carbines and began blasting every floating thing they
could see on the waters in their rage.  Had there been any
survivors of the Saluda, they would have been shot in the
furious volley rained down upon the flotsam of war.  Then
even fury exhausted itself, and everyone fell to the ground
or to their knees, lost in sorrow.

The three from Ashley Plantation were most helpful then.  Of
course they grieved for the loss of Priam, but were less
affected by it enough so that they could help the people of
Seaward to carry on.  Helping people to their feet, offering
gentle orders and directions, Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond
began moving people toward what must be done.  Priam's body
was wrapped in a canvas from the Harmony and carried back up
the embankment to be prepared for burial.  Cannon and
firearms were put back in order, for especially now
vigilance must be redoubled.  The people of Seaward moved,
some as if in a dream and some in pain, toward the next
moment, and then the next, and then the next.

Appleby and Troy had indeed broken some ribs, dark bruises
spreading over their sides.  These were bound up and rest
was ordered.  The women helped Cass to wash Priam's body and
lovingly prepare it for burial.  Bundit and Cassius, barely
able to see their work through their tears, dug a grave in
the cemetery even as they tried to keep a lookout.

That night a sorrowful procession took Priam up the hill.
Samuel and Hammond graciously offered to stand watch at the
pier, while Aaron scanned the sea from the cemetery as Priam
was put in the earth but a few yards away.  The people of
Seaward sat around a bonfire, near the earth freshly mounded
over the grave, and talked.  Appleby grieved to the depths
of his soul, remember Priam's strengths and
kindness.....remembering that here was the first sharing of
intimacy between them.  And, in a small, deep corner of his
thoughts, Appleby grieved for Robert as well.  For the
beautiful boy that used to be, for the spirit that might
have been so fruitful had it not been ruined by the poisons
of slavery and race.

The night deepened.  There were words and songs offered
up....they rose into the gentle summer breezes of August,
floated out over Seaward, and dissolved in the air.