Date: Wed, 28 Jul 2004 06:01:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation war clouds 6

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 six

Mark Appleby awoke with his face pleasantly buried in
Bundit's thick bush of jet black hair.  The Siamese man lay
half-on, half-off of his chest, one persimmon colored arm
and one leg lying across Appleby's body.  Bundit had simply
collapsed that way after last night's passionate lovemaking-
-indeed, after a whole day, and the night before that, of
saying "till we meet again" to his friends of Seaward
Plantation.  Now Bundit slept soundly, crusty patches of
dried semen on the sheets, on Appleby's torso, and between
their entwined bodies remaining as testaments to last
night's ecstasy.

However, Appleby had awakened with his usual morning
erection.  Bundit's thigh crossed over his groin just below
his rampant organ, while Bundit's own penis, likewise
involuntarily stiff even in his sleep, poked out from under
the Asian man's groin, jutting over Appleby's lower belly, a
clear drop of precum oozing out.  Appleby shifted a little
to his side while one arm came around Bundit's back to hold
their two bodies together.  Bundit moaned, twisting a little
as he floated up into consciousness.  Appleby had rolled so
that their stiff penises were now aligned together as they
lay on their sides, while Bundit's leg and arm remained over
Appleby's body, now flopping over his back and butt.
Bundit's eyes fluttered open to see the white man's face
pressed close up to his own.  A smile parted his rosebud
lips and he pulled himself in tighter to Appleby.

"Good morning, Master Mark," he said softly.

"Good morning, Bundit," Appleby replied, slipping his free
hand in between their torsos.  He grasped both stiff penises
and began sliding his hand up and down, up and down.  Bundit
sighed with pleasure and pecked forward a little with his
full, pink lips, seeking out Appleby's mouth.  The two
kissed lightly, brushing lips, kissing noses and cheeks,
sharing breath.  Appleby shift a little to bring the head of
his longer penis even with the head of Bundit's thick,
shorter cock.  As his hand cycled up around the two
dickheads he squeezed a little tighter, twisting just a bit,
pressing the light red and golden red cocks together.  A
film of precum began to coat both shafts and the skin of
their bellies.

The two men now began to push their bodies together, a
slight humping of each one's hips grinding their slicked
torsos together.  Breathing increased.  Chests mashed
together, each heart could feel the other heart beating but
a few inches of flesh away.  Arms and legs clasped around
backs and butts pulled in, tightening the connection.
Slowly, slowly the crisis crept up on them until Appleby's
body from his knees to his face tightened and he pushed hard
into the Asian man crying "Oh! Bundit! Oh, I love you, I
love you," spewing out his affection in the form of semen.
Bundit tightened his own grip on the white man's body and
then his orgasm came on as he shot out waves of cum to join
Appleby's, white and Asian semen mixing and swimming
together on skins and sheets.  Both orgasms passed, Appleby
removed his dripping hand and wrapped it around Bundit's
back, and the two lay there together like that for long
minutes.  Each opened their eyes at the same time to see a
tear glistening an inch or so away.  They kissed again and
hugged tightly.  There were no more words to say.  Appleby
rose and taking Bundit's hand led him naked down the hallway
in the early morning light to head down the stairs to the
bath room.  On the way down, streaks of semen still
glistening on their torsos, they passed Hector coming up the
stairs, naked and fresh clean from his bath.  He stopped to
peck both Appleby and Bundit on the lips, then walked to his
own room with his pendulous black cock swinging to clothe
himself for the journey into Charleston.

Appleby and Bundit bathed and ate a hasty breakfast.  As
they were preparing to leave, a few of the people came into
the dining room of the main house to wish Bundit goodbye one
last time:  Hector, Cass, Juno, and Portia, Wat, and Marcus.
Marcus hugged Bundit quickly, his emotions carefully
neutral, then ran out of the house quickly.  Appleby
wondered whether the boy was overcome with emotion and
trying to hide it.  Bundit gave Wat an especially tender hug
and whispered in his ear, then did the same for Portia.
Both mother and son smiled bravely, but their eyes
glistened.  Hugs and handshakes went around the group, and
then it was time to go.  Stepping down from the verandah,
they met Troy and Priam who were also sailing into
Charleston.  Appleby and Bundit joined them and down to the
pier they went as the sun rolled fully up over the horizon.

With four hands it did not take long to get the Hesperus
ready for sailing.  They pushed off from the pier and began
the voyage into Charleston.  The men smiled at one another,
and Bundit made it a point to sit near each one of his
friends, but there were no more words to say.  The voyage
passed smoothly, and as the buildings of Charleston became
distinct in the morning light, Appleby said, "Friends, we'd
best say our goodbyes here; we have to be careful ashore."
Then he hugged Bundit tight and slipped him some money in
gold pieces.  Bundit tried to refuse but Appleby insisted,
saying it was part of his "salary."  Troy and then Priam
hugged Bundit as well, and then the men struck a tableau of
white owner and slaves so as to be presentable as they
docked at the pier.

Securing the Hesperus to the wooden uprights, the four men
stepped off onto the pier.  There was an unusual amount of
activity, it seemed.  Many ships and boats were at the pier
or lay at anchor farther out in the harbor.  Soldiers and
sailors in the uniform of the South Carolina Militia busied
themselves going to and fro, and it seemed as if heavy loads
of cargo were being moved on and off of ships.  Appleby
hailed a passing gentleman who was directing a small gang of
slaves in pushing loaded carts and barrows down the pier.

"Sir, if you please!  What is all the hubbub?  What's the
matter?"

The man stopped and looked around him.  Then he leaned into
Appleby's ear.  "Rumors of war, sir.  There may be action
here in Charleston soon.  You didn't hear that from me!  But
if you want to get shipping in or out, as do I, do it now!"
Then he bustled off on his business.

The four men looked around at each other.  "Well, Bundit,
perhaps you were right," said Appleby.  "This may be the
best--or the last--time to get away.  Well, God speed my
friend, God speed."  Looks among the four had to suffice in
place of more meaningful expressions of affection.  Then
Bundit hoisted his bag over his shoulder and was down the
pier, turning up the waterfront when he reached the end, in
search of ships.  Appleby, Priam, and Troy sighed, then
pulled themselves together and worked their way past the
crowds on the pier.  There was much to be done.

They went first to the armorers to order powder and shot.
There was little to be had; other individuals or the Militia
had evidently had the same idea, but Appleby bought what he
could and left instructions that his servants would carry
the purchase to their boat.  Then Appleby went on his way to
the post office and telegraph office to send off many
messages to businesses and friends near and far.  He also
intended simply to pay his respects to Attorney Smith, to
maintain that relationship.  Troy and Priam went to work
moving the shot and powder back to the boat, and then they
had their own agenda of supplies to secure for transport to
Seaward.

Later in the day, his errands and a solitary lunch
completed, Appleby made his way to the meeting of the
Militia.  The building was crammed--it seemed as if every
officer who had ever been connected with the group was
there.  Appleby pushed into the mob, seeking a seat.  He
felt a hand on his arm.  It was Robert Ashley, looking
splendid in a fancy-dress naval uniform--indeed, perhaps a
little more splendid than a day business meeting called for.
Appleby smiled at his old friend, his eyes moving up and
down Robert's gaudy finery:  "You're looking prosperous, my
friend, prosperous indeed!" said Appleby, with the hint of a
sarcastic smile on his lips.

"Oh, indeed, I am, Lieutenant Appleby," he replied.  "Plush
with wealth and... and found money, my good sir, found
money."  He winked at Appleby, a secretive smile spreading
over his lips, then moved off to the front table where he
was to take his place as a naval leader in the Militia.
Appleby puzzled over what he meant by those words and
demeanor, but gave it up as unfathomable.  No doubt the
young man had conjured up some new excess, some simulation
of ancient Rome or other degradation to which he might put
his slaves.  Shaking his head, Appleby found a seat and took
it.  Musing as he waited for the meeting to start, he
realized that he did not regret his long acquaintance with
Robert, but that increasingly he could not maintain it
further.  The power that came with slave ownership was
poisoning Robert more than most, and Appleby wanted
connection with that contamination less and less as time
went on.  Still.... it was sad, since Robert had been such a
beautiful youth and was now such a handsome young man.

The meeting was gaveled to order.  General Beauregard rose
and spoke briefly.  "Gentlemen of South Carolina," he began,
"I come to you from the field.  I return to the field
directly.  As you know, the federal interloper remains in
our state and on our lands.  We will not tolerate it for
long.  War, gentlemen, war hovers over us!"  A mighty shout
rose up from the gathering.  "We do not wish it for
ourselves, but our state and our land will be free, I swear
it by my blood and the blood of free South Carolinians
everywhere!"  Again, a tremendous cheer.  Appleby, appalled
by the martial clamor all around him, had to remind himself
to put on a good imitation of enthusiasm.  "I cannot stay,
my place is with our troops.  My friends, so will your place
be, soon.  I can say no more.  But I bid you prepare for war
when you go from here.  To arms!"  The entire assembly rose
and set up a tremendous clamor which followed the general
through the hall and out the door.

With difficulty the meeting was gaveled back to order.
Committee reports were dispensed with quickly.  War and
rumors of war was the order of the day.  The meeting was
full of very practical plans for what amounted to
mobilization of an army.  Different officers were called
forth and given orders for the assembling of troops and
materiel in different sites around the area.  Appleby's sad
thoughts were interrupted by the calling of his own name.
The unexpected summons gave a needed boost of adrenalin to
his looming depression.

"Sir!" he said, rising to his feet in answer to the call.  A
colonel at the podium replied, "And what of the defenses of
Seaward Plantation, sir?  Are you ready to repel the
federals from your island if need be?"

"Let them come, sir, let them come," replied Appleby, both
fervently and truthfully, but perhaps not with the sense
that was read into his remarks.  "Our cannon are trained on
the enemy," he said, which was true, "and we are determined
to keep our little part of South Carolina free, sir, free
from foreign domination!"  All true, quite true.  The
audience applauded and whooped, those standing near him
rising to pat him on the back.

The rest of the meeting continued in this vein of dreary
patriotism.  Appleby forced himself to sit through it,
forced himself to cheer with the rest, but he wanted nothing
more than to return to the Hesperus and be on his way back
to Seaward.  He had a strong foreboding that some cataclysm
was at hand, and that his life was about to change forever.
Finally the meeting finished and as some men gathered to
talk enthusiastically in little knots and clusters, others
rushed from the hall as if it were on fire, hastening to
their commands to make ready for the coming conflict.  Among
these was Robert Ashley.  Appleby had wanted to speak to
him, to find some kind of solace in his handsome face,
perhaps--who knows?--to spend some intimate moments on the
Appleby boat, the Swan.  But Robert was out the door as soon
as he could--off to prepare whatever ragtag vessels he had
at his command for war, no doubt.  While the South Carolina
contribution to a Southern army was going to be formidable,
there were few impressive men of war in Southern hands, and
certainly no first rate vessels in Charleston.

Appleby worked his way out of the meeting as quickly as he
reasonably could, then pushed his way down the crowded
streets toward the harbor area.  Activity seemed as frantic
as it was before.  Arriving at the harbor front, he decided
that it couldn't hurt to see if Robert were on board the
Swan.  Pushing slowly through the crowds in the direction of
its usual berth, he was surprised to see it underway as he
came near, just catching a wind that was drawing it out into
the harbor.  But he did catch a glimpse of Robert Ashley
standing in the stern, and Robert also saw him.  Appleby
waved his hand, while Robert--when he removed his hat and
waved it, bowing with a flourish, was it with an air of
mockery, or was that just Robert's usual excess?  And
mockery of what?  Shaking his head, sure he was imagining
things, Appleby returned to the pier where the Hesperus lay,
walked up it and found his friends aboard, resting on the
cargo they had stored in the hull and lashed onto the deck.

Troy and Priam had experienced a productive day, finding
most of the stores they needed although many merchants were
running low on goods.  There seemed to be a general hoarding
in Charleston as people prepared for war, so the three men
were grateful that they had been able to secure what goods
they had.  They agreed that it was time to return to
Seaward.  Putting off from the pier, they caught a little
breeze and began to pick their way through the crowded
harbor, past the looming bulk of Fort Sumter, and out into
the approaches to the sea.  Putting on more canvas with more
sea room, they were soon flying before the wind toward home.

Appleby thought he could make out the smudge of Seaward on
the horizon as they moved from harbor to sea.  Then he
noticed that some of the smudge was vertical.  Then he
thought that it was moving.  Within a few minutes, the
picture became clear:  something making smoke was coming in
their direction from Seaward.  A few minutes more and the
outlines of the Harmony became clear, smoke belching from
her stack; she evidently had a full head of steam on and was
making for Charleston as fast as she could.

The sense of foreboding that Appleby had experienced in the
meeting returned in full force.  He felt a wrenching in the
pit of his stomach.  He found a spyglass on board and
trained it on the approaching steam launch.  The distance
between the Hesperus and the Harmony narrowed, and soon he
could make out, on the deck of the approaching launch,
Hector, Cassius--and Portia.  His heart turned cold.  There
was nothing he could do but wait for the rendezvous.  As the
vessels came closer, it was clear that the Harmony had
sighted the Hesperus as well.  Taking in sail on one vessel
and disengaging the screws on the other, the two vessels
came alongside each other.  Ropes thrown from the Harmony
were received by the Hesperus and lashed on board, securing
the two together.  Leaping onto the Hesperus ahead of any
help, Portia fell into Appleby's arms as she gasped out
these words:

"Do you have him?  Marcus?  He has done it again.  Say you
have him!"

Appleby could only stare at her open-mouthed, aghast, and
shake his head.  "WHAT?" she shouted.  Again, he only shook
his head, unable to find words.  Portia thrust into his
hands a sheet of paper and then collapsed to her knees,
supported by Cassius who had come up behind her.  Appleby
held the paper in his trembling hands and read:

"Dear Mama.  I am going to go with Bundit.  I will stow away
on the Hesperus and follow him.  I know he really wants me
to go, although he says he doesn't.  I have borrowed some
money from Papa Mark's study, so I will be alright.  I will
send you letters. I will come back with Bundit when he is
done sailing.  Don't worry.  Love, Marcus."

In a panic and a fury, Appleby handed the paper to Troy and
Priam who read it together as he himself plunged into the
hold.  Shifting sacks and barrels, bellowing Marcus's name,
he soon uncovered every possible hiding place, but to no
avail.  The boy was no longer there.  He bounded back up the
ladder to the deck.

"Are you sure he is not on Seaward?" he asked Portia.
Ashen, weeping, she shook her head in sorrow.  Cassius,
hardly more composed, spoke up:  "We searched the whole
island, everybody helped.  We felt sure he was simply
playing a trick on us.  Otherwise we would have put to sea
sooner.  Portia found this early this afternoon up in her
loft on the boy's bed."

The adults could only stare at each other in shock and
bewilderment.  Then Appleby roused himself to action.  "To
Charleston, and quickly.  We must search there.  Let us dock
at the pier and then make plans."  His urgency energized
them.  Portia found strength to regain her feet, and Appley
embraced her tenderly as she stood.  She and Cassius
returned to the Harmony which was untethered from the
Hesperus, and both vessels headed back in the late afternoon
light to the harbor area.

The Harmony made it there first and was secured by the time
the Hesperus pulled up behind her.  Appleby called the five
other adults to come into the crowded hold of the Hesperus
with him.  Once there, he spoke.

"Now, we must search wherever we can.  Remember, you must
all act.... forgive me, you must act like slaves.  People
will be watching you.  I will make enquiries at all the
shipping offices.  And... and at the slave markets.  The
rest of you will need to speak to the other blacks here in
town and along the harbor, gaining whatever information you
can.  Find out who has seen a boy of eleven with an Asian
man.  That combination cannot have been hard to miss."

At this Priam shook his head mournfully and spoke up.  "No,
master, that is not how it likely was."

"What do you mean, Priam?" asked Appleby.

"If Marcus had found Bundit, Bundit would have brought him
back.  You know that, master.  Somehow they never met up.
Or... or they met up and neither one could come back to the
Hesperus."  He hung his head at this last possibility.

"Then.... then Marcus must have been taken!" said Portia, a
desperate look on her face.

"No.... not necessarily.  We don't know what happened.  But
Master Mark is right, we must see what information we can
find.  Master, I think we should all come back here by, say,
midnight to see what news we have."

They all agreed to that plan.  The blacks reminded
themselves of the need to blend into the crowd, to hide
their natural freedom and independence.  All six embraced,
urgency and the seriousness of their task pushing grief
aside for the moment, and then they made their way out of
the hold and down the pier.  All but Troy; he and Priam
agreed that one would remain to guard both vessels, and to
be there in case Marcus should return on his own.  Priam
would search for a while, then return to send Troy out on
the quest.

Appleby steeled his resolve and then stormed into town to
visit the slave markets first.  He had to feign an interest
in buying a young, quadroon boy suitable for a house
servant, of course; he could not accuse anyone of slave-
stealing in their own business and expect their cooperation.
From one seedy slave merchant to another he went, and to the
auction hall, searching for his own flesh and blood.  Once
he was simply overcome with the horror of the situation and
vomited in an alley behind an especially loathsome merchant.
But with no luck.  He didn't know whether to be relieved or
appalled.

Back to the harbor he ran in the deepening twilight, and
went first to the harbor authorities.  Two merchantmen from
Charleston had departed since the morning for the West
Indies; three from Savannah, farther south, had left on
their way to Norfolk, Virginia, trading cargo up and down
the coast.  A French merchantman with a load of cotton
stored from last summer's harvest had departed for Brest.  A
British vessel en route from Jamaica had stopped to buy and
sell and was bound ultimately for New York.  Nobody in a
position of authority had any time or desire to notice an
eleven year old coffee-and-cream colored boy.  Of course, an
Asian seeking work would have been more noticeable, but
nobody in that office had any recollection of him, either.

Appleby obtained a list of large vessels still in the port,
thinking that Bundit and hence Marcus would not have
bothered with any of the smaller, more local craft.  Of
course, not all of these larger merchantmen were at the
pier; many were standing at anchor farther off shore.  But
if they were in the harbor they all had launches at the pier
somewhere.  Appleby walked the entire length of each pier
across the whole length of the harbor, offering descriptions
of both Bundit and Marcus, but to no avail.  Some of the
sailors and officers he spoke to said they had seen many
young boys who might answer Marcus's description that day,
but then again the crowds were quite large.  Curiously,
nobody had seen anyone matching Bundit's description, and
Appleby found that odd.  But he trudged on with an
increasing sense of both urgency and despair.

Dark night came on, with no luck.  The crowds on the pier
thinned somewhat, but there was still far more business than
usual, certainly for that hour.  The lights of crafts large
and small could be seen making their way across the harbor.
With no appetite himself but thinking that his friends might
need to eat and drink, Appleby purchased a quantity of food
and drinks at a nearby tavern and trudged back down to the
boats.  It was nearing midnight, the hour at which they had
agreed to rendezvous.

Cassius and Portia were not there yet, but Hector, Troy, and
Priam were, slumped on the deck of the Hesperus; their
silence told the story.  Within minutes, near the stroke of
midnight, Cassius and Portia came running up the pier.

"What news, any news?" Portia called softly and urgently.
Everyone shook their heads and she turned, sobbing, into
Cassius's chest.  Conscious of the need to not make a scene,
Appleby led the group down into the hold below the decks of
the Hesperus.  There he handed out food and drink, but the
group had little taste for it.  Everyone related their
stories of the afternoon.  The search had been diligent, but
to no avail.  All had similar news:  plenty of boys that fit
Marcus's profile, but it was as if Bundit had never been
ashore.  Even those who thought they might have seen Marcus
could not tell the people of Seaward anything about what
happened to him.  Crowds had been too thick and too busy to
note the progress of a solitary eleven-year-old.

Appleby summoned up a heartiness he did not feel.  "Listen,
my friends, we must not despair.  We must not assume that
something bad has happened to Marcus.  Suppose he and Bundit
found passage on a ship right away and are now safely away
from a war that might break out any moment?  Suppose Marcus
never found Bundit but is waiting in some welcoming dwelling
now, to return to us in the morning?  Suppose...." and then
his energy gave out.  He was convincing nobody, and
certainly not himself.  He sat down hard on a crate and
spoke again, in a weaker voice.

"I suggest that we spend the night here in the holds of the
Harmony and the Hesperus and search again tomorrow.  Our
friends back home will understand if we are gone overnight.
Then tomorrow we can return to Seaward.  For all we know,
Marcus was taken there by some kindly captain who saw that
he had no business at sea.  Let us rest if we can."  The
others nodded sad agreement, not knowing what else to do.
Troy, Priam, and Hector volunteered to remain in the crowded
hold of the Hesperus.  The others shifted over to go below
decks on the Harmony.  It was cramped, but there were
blankets that could be spread to make a bed.  Appleby,
Portia, and Cassius simply tumbled together on the blankets,
exhausted, wrapping arms around each other to comfort and
console.  It was late at night before sleep overtook them.

The dark night crept by with a range of unusual sounds,
echoes of trouble and business, near and far.  On board both
vessels, the people of Seaward rested fitfully.  About four
in the morning, Appleby was startled from sleep by the
advent of a thunderstorm--by the sound of it, it would be
there soon and in force.  Disentangling himself from Portia
and Cassius, he slipped up the ladder to the deck to assess
the weather.  Flashes of lightning from the east lit up the
sky, and the thunder--and then he realized that it was no
thunder, nor lightning.  Fort Sumter, last stronghold of
federal troops, was being fired upon and was returning fire.
It was war, in bloody earnest.

A few yards away he could see Troy, Priam, and Hector coming
up out of the Hesperus.  The "lightning and thunder" they
had heard was but the first few volleys.  Now, suddenly, the
noise became tremendous although it originated farther out
in the harbor.  Shore batteries from around the harbor came
into play and set up a steady barrage of the fort, with the
federals answering as well as they could.  The air vibrated
with every shot, reverberations coming through the very
waves and sea bottom.  The scream of shells as they flew
overhead could be clearly heard, even though they were all
farther out in the harbor.  Explosions on the walls of the
fort sent showers of sparks and debris into the air,
lighting up the sky.  It seemed to be a glimpse through the
doors of hell.  Appleby shook his head in sorrow; the
federal authorities would never tolerate such an attack.
There would surely be a wider war.

All hope of sleep was now gone.  The party ate what they
could, out of a sense of duty in keeping up their strength,
and then fanned out in the early morning darkness.  Even so,
they were not alone.  The bombardment had aroused the entire
town.  To his amazement, Appleby saw that some had come down
to the pier to prepare small craft for going out into the
harbor, the better to see the carnage and commotion from up
close.

Through the rest of that dark morning and on after sunrise
the group searched and inquired.  Appleby visited the train
station and questioned every stationmaster, conductor, and
ticket agent.  His friends scoured the harbor and, with
trepidation, the area of the slave markets to learn what
they could from the underside of the town.  Throughout the
morning, the slow, steady beat of cannon fire from the
harbor kept time to their frantic efforts.  At noon they met
back at the boats, as they had agreed.  There was no news,
no more insights as to what had happened.  They were
defeated, and they knew it.

Tired beyond tears, Portia slumped down onto the deck of the
Harmony.  Appleby sat next to her but did not dare comfort
her yet in such a public place.  After a brief consultation,
the party decided to return to Seaward if they could, in the
vain hope that Marcus might have returned there by some
other route.  To do so seemed fraught with peril, however.
Both vessels pushed away from the pier and made their way
into the harbor, but the batteries on shore kept up a steady
shower of shells onto Fort Sumter, which of course returned
fire.  It made for a canopy of death shrieking overhead for
any small craft wanting to pass through the harbor.  But
they had to press on, and summoning their courage, they did
so.  Although Appleby could not fathom how it might afford
entertainment to them, the presence of many small craft full
of people in a party spirit helped to disguise the passage
of the Harmony and Hesperus.  Picking a route among and
through the revelers, who set up cheers with each exploding
shell on the fort, the two boats of Seaward finally ran that
gauntlet and had the open sea in view.

It was then that Appleby sat next to Portia and enveloped
her in his arms.  He spoke what comfort he could to her, but
they both knew that little could be said of any real
substance.  And he himself was sick at heart, full of self-
reproach although he could not have said in what way he was
at fault.  Words then failed, and they simply held each
other as the boats made their way out of the harbor and into
the open sea.

As they came within sight of Seaward they could hear the
echoes of a distant gunshot coming from the direction of the
island.  As they came nearer it became clear that it was a
signal shot, fired by a lookout on the shore to announce
their arrival.  The entire remainder of the community was
there to greet them, hope and fear etched on every face.  As
the boats bobbed into the side of the pier and were secured,
Appleby noted with surprise that Pan, Bacchus, and Helen
were manning one of the cannon and that Cass and Juno each
held one of the new carbines with grim determination.  But
they all downed their weapons and came running to hear what
the news might be.

Neither Bundit nor Marcus had returned to the island, which
dashed that hope.  All the adults stood around on the shore
discussing a wide range of possibilities, a conversation
that only tormented them as there was no way to be sure and
certainly no way to act.  The children sat in a dispirited
clump, worried looks on their faces.  Portia, exhausted
beyond all telling, wept silently, supported between Appleby
and Cassius.

A break came in the recitation of the dismal news, and then
Pan spoke up.  "Master... last night, there was light
flashing on the horizon and a distant rumbling.  You can
hear the rumbling even now," he said, and as the party fell
quiet the distant rumor of war could certainly be heard.
"We prepared a cannon and some rifles.  We didn't know what
it was.  Do you.... did you see anything?"

Appleby turned his thoughts to the wider national tragedy
that somehow seemed minor in comparison with the local
sadness on Seaward.  "Yes, you did well, all of you," he
said, "but I'm afraid it is war.  The lights and sounds were
cannon firing.  They are firing on Fort Sumter, trying to
reduce it.  This will not be the end of it, I am afraid," he
said.  This new information seemed to add to the burdens of
Seaward, and faces became even more dismal.

Then Appleby stirred himself.  "My friends, if it is war, as
I suspect it is, then this is what we have been preparing
for.  We have tremendous loss, but if we give in to mourning
and do not act the loss will be greater yet.  There is work
to do.  Can someone hitch up the donkey cart and bring it
down?"  The need for action did immediate good, as the
people began to shift the cargo out of the ships and down
the pier to the shore.  Appleby made himself work, counting
on the effort to help dull his pain.  Athena announced that
she was taking Portia back to the cabins, however, and led
her away arm in arm.

The rest of the day was spent in hard work, shifting
supplies into storage.  Appleby suggested that the condition
of the cannon, rifles, pistols, shot and powder be looked to
so as to be sure that all was in readiness, and several of
the men set about that task.  Portia slept through the
afternoon, under the care of Athena.

That evening after a light meal, much of the community sat
on the verandah.  Plans were made for the war which seemed
to have come upon them.  It was agreed that a watch should
be kept on the western side of the island, counting on the
buoys installed around the rest of the island to warn
intruders, truthfully or falsely, against approaching.
Should there be danger or arrivals, a rifle or shotgun was
to be discharged into the air, signaling for help.  Even as
they spoke, the western horizon occasionally flickered with
light, and low intermittent rumblings could still be heard
from across the waves.

Gradually people dispersed to bed or to watch; Pan and
Bacchus eagerly volunteered to spend this first night of war
on the western shore, and took up carbines, lamps, and
blankets as they headed off into the night.  Portia,
Cassius, Appleby, and Athena alone remained on the porch
looking beyond the soft lamplight into the uncertain night.

Appleby spoke up softly after a long silence.  "My mother
used to sing me a song, among other songs, when I was a
child; I can't remember what meaning this one had for her,
but I remember it now."  And he sang:

"I see the moon and the moon sees me,
the moon sees somebody I want to see,
God bless the moon and God bless me,
and God bless the somebody I want to see."

His voice choked on the last few words as he reached to
clasp Portia's hand tightly.  She nodded, tears running down
her cheeks.  There was more silence and then Athena spoke
softly but intensely.

"Marcus will be back, Portia.... master.  Don't ask me how I
know.  Sometimes I know these things.  Master Mark, remember
when everybody thought you were going to sell us, when you
first came here?  I knew better, I just KNEW... don't ask me
how."  Appleby nodded, giving all his attention to Athena.
"Well, I just feel this.  He will be back.  Maybe not the
same.  Maybe not.... maybe not whole.  But he will be back."

Athena's friends did not know why that should comfort them,
but it did.  Hands were clasped all around and an unspoken
feeling of hope began to well up around despair as they sat
and looked out into the night.