The Sun Rises (Southern Legacy Book 4) (2 page)

Rampant thoughts ran swiftly through his mind. The chain wasn’t broken, but it would be weakened enough to break after the explosion…the
Pinola
needed cover.

“Fall back,” Cullen commanded. “We need to shield the
Pinola
.”

No sooner than the order was given than Cullen watched the
Pinola
flounder and be pulled back into the flow of the river. Despite fighting futilely against a surge of wind, the
Pinola
was being swept away by the current.

Still flying under the sail, the
Pinola’
s
engines hadn’t fired up…neither had the explosives gone off. A shell exploded off their broadside. Cullen had no more time to waste. “Stand ready! We are going alongside. Mr. Collins, when we get close enough, toss the
Pinola
a line.”

The thudding engines came up to speed. Guided in reverse, the stern shook. Through the midst of rain and smoke, the
Itasca
cut through the rough water toward the
Pinola.

“Lieutenant!” the helmsman called from the starboard. “The
Pinola
is rowing back to the squad.”

Cullen stared in disbelief. The barrier hadn’t been broken…
Damn it
! Cullen cursed under his breath with the realization there had to be a problem with the explosives. They weren’t going to be going off! Then it hit him…Graham was scrambling back to Farragut to make him the scapegoat in this fiasco!

Blood rushed to his face; his fist clenched. Farragut’s words echoed within him—
Conquer or be conquered!
 Conviction and determination surged through his veins. He wasn’t returning without completing his mission. He had one option left.

In that moment, he cast his eyes upon his men. Their eyes, too, fixed upon him. Their mission had been compromised…on the verge of failure. Fort Jackson hadn’t stopped its bombardment; the torrential rainstorm hadn’t lessened…they had no explosives.

“Turn about!” Cullen commanded. “Turn about!”

“Sir,” the helmsman cried over the wind. “The barrier? We’ll hit the chains and be ripped apart!”

“Men, prepare! We are going to break that damn barrier! Ram where we weakened the chain… We will hit it head on!”

Nary a man said another word, but worked in earnest to turn the craft back toward the barrier. Their mission set before them, the brave men bore down and readied for the assault and the wind.

There was no going back once the decision was made. Committed, the gunboat gathered speed, aided by the wind. Smoke burst from the stack and dropped down, encompassing the ship in a haze. The rhythm of the engines steadily increased.

“Full speed ahead!” Cullen directed from the helm. “Hold steady!”

With momentum, the
Itasca
struck the chain. Immediately, the bow propelled out of the water. The engines grinded with a god-awful noise. Cullen was knocked down against the starboard bulwark. Managing to crawl to his knees, he heard the water rush against the hull and the bulwark trembled beneath him.

Spars and rigging clanged; a jolting crunch shook the ship. The chain caught on her keel, pushing the ship almost entirely out of the water. The
Itasca
hung in the air! The next moment, the gunboat crashed back down onto the surface, skimming the water twice before it came to a sudden halt.

Intact!
The
Itasca
was completely intact! Cullen hurried back on his feet, desperately surveying the ship.

“Check the men, Mr. Collins!” he commanded, maintaining the elation that swelled within him.

In the pouring rain, shouts erupted from their companion ship, the
Pinola
, which had seen the whole of maneuver—the barrier was broken. The fleet could make it through.

* * * *

With Lieutenant-Commander Bemis unable to sufficiently recover from his bout with pneumonia, Farragut rewarded Cullen for his daring act and promoted him to captain of the
Itasca
. The crew supported Farragut’s decision. Cullen’s reputation had garnered him a position where men wanted to follow him into battle—a leader, brave and true…one who had courageously took a seemingly impossible risk and came out victorious.

Farragut offered Cullen one bit of advice. “Put your mission before all else.”

The advice was well accepted. Cullen had a great admiration for Farragut, a man who stood by his convictions despite the possible repercussions. It was widely known that Farragut’s stepbrother, Porter, coveted Farragut’s position. Cullen held no doubt that Porter would see that Farragut was replaced if he failed to capture New Orleans.

In Cullen’s mind, failure was not an option. As he stood on deck, he pulled out his pocket watch. Two o’clock. It was time. The tactical maneuver would begin.

In the darkness, the engines churned and smoke billowed from the stacks, clouding the river as the ships began their voyage through the narrow passage…one at a time. Within minutes, a vociferous roar erupted.

Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philip had been on high alert and wasted no time bombarding the advancing fleet. Guns flashed from the forts; rockets burst in the air. A geyser of a missed shot sprayed the
Itasca
, drenching Cullen on the helm.

Holding course, the
Itasca
made it through, as had the ships before it. The Confederate fire had essentially been ineffective.

“Captain, broadside!”

At the helmsman’s cry, Cullen’s gaze broke from the USS
Pensacola,
which had only just cleared the barrier. Over his shoulder, he watched the dreaded
hellish machine
materialized out of the smoky haze.

Momentarily, he could only stare. Never in his life had he seen such an intimidating contraption. Ironclad, the CSS
Manassas
had one smokestack in the middle of its rounded curving hull, looking like a floating cigar. Sitting low in the water did little to conceal its deadly weapon—a pointed iron ram. Its one intent was to stab holes in armor-plated ships

The
Manassas
paid no mind to Cullen’s gunboat. Its intent lay with the larger Union fleet ships. Cullen had enough worries with the remainder of the Confederate fleet.

“Nine…ten at the most, sir,” Mr. Collins reported as he walked to Cullen’s side. “Your orders?”

“Fire!”

The order rang clear for all to hear. In turn, a continuous thunderclap began. His crew worked vigorously. The shell men rammed home the powder cartridges for the guns to fire; the tackle men swung their guns around to face their targets.

A cry rang out. “They’re trying to board us!”

The efforts of the Confederates were for naught. Only three rebels made it to the deck and were instantly repelled, falling overboard into the dark, murky water.

Cullen’s attention turned once more to the river. The Confederates began reckless efforts to bring down the Union fleet. The
Pensacola
had turned in time to avoid the
Manassas
and did an about-face and fired broadside at close range, hitting its mark.

Looming in the fog of smoke, Cullen saw a fiery raft loaded with wood and tar headed toward the USS
Mississippi,
intent on catching the wooden steamer on fire.

“Turn portside!” Cullen shouted back to Mr. Collins. “Aim and wait for my signal to fire!”

His boatswain stared at Cullen, confused until he saw the intent behind the action.

The raft was escorted by two gunboats. Cullen intended to take out the second one, which would force the raft off course.

“Hold steady…steady…” Then, at the precise moment, Cullen yelled, “Fire, men! Fire!”

Cullen looked across the water. Through the haze, his gun crew worked furiously. Recoiling from the
Itasca’s
aggressive attack, a flame burst out along the Confederate gunboat. Wounded, the boat lost its course and floundered into the burning raft, which drifted to the riverbank and burnt out without incident.

The morning light brought a halt to the dash through the break in the barrier. The Union fleet had sustained little significant damage. Only three ships did not make it through; one gunboat, the
Varuna,
had fallen victim to Confederate fire. The two others,
Kennebac
and
Winona
, had got caught up in the lines and hadn’t the time to make it through before the light of day.

Conversely, the Confederate navy had suffered greatly. After CSS
Manassas
had taken a hit from the
Pensacola
, it rammed the
Brooklyn
, but not fatally. Next, the CSS
Manassas
had followed behind the fleet until the
Mississippi
had had enough. The Union steam frigate turned on the
Manassas
and fired, hitting her broadside
.

The
Manassas
ran aground. The crew of the Southern sea-bearing vessel evacuated right before the
Mississippi
turned its full force of the wounded ship. On fire, the
Manassas
slipped back into the water and floated helplessly down the river.

With no viable information of the defensive between the Fleet and New Orleans, Farragut moved ahead without the ground commander, General Butler, or Commander Porter. Both had stayed to secure Fort St. Philip and Fort Jackson.

But they were not needed. The Union fleet encountered little more Confederate opposition. Only once were they submitted to random Confederate sharpshooters, who found it more prudent to fall back after the USS
Hartford
fired two batteries of fire in their direction. The skirmish took no more than twenty minutes. It was the last of the resistance between Farragut and New Orleans.

Gathered intelligence from within New Orleans had told of a smug city confident in their strength to repel the Union forces. The
New Orleans Tribune
had boasted—

Our only fear is that the Northern invaders might not appear. We have made such extensive preparations to receive them, that it would be vexatious if their invincible armada escapes the fate we have in store for them.

The prediction had not been fulfilled. New Orleans had fallen.

Entering the harbor, Cullen was greeted by the sight of a city ablaze. Everything of value had been torched: ships, steamers, cotton, and coal. As the Union fleet rounded Slaughter Point, New Orleans for all intent and purposes was under Union control. The Rebels had withdrawn, leaving only an angry, desolate city.

A glorious Southern sun shone down at its very hottest. Jo lay upon the settee that had been brought out on the piazza and took in the view on this fine June day. The garden was alive with a multitude of assorted flowers and scents. The arbor was densely covered by climbing ivy. Roses abounded in vibrant colors; fragrant gardenias encompassed the air with full blooming magnolias bordering the landscape.

Jo watched butterflies flit from one bloom to another in sweet serenity. In the midst of the picture, Anna sat on the ground with Percival in her lap. The toddler seemed captivated watching a small rabbit, scampering amid the rose bushes. So beautiful and peaceful, the vision looked like the hand of God had descended and painted upon a living canvas.

Across from Jo, Mother Montgomery sat quietly and darned Anna’s dress. The days of extravagance were behind them. The Yankee blockade had tightened around Charleston. Luxury items had become hard to come by. Proclaiming that the day would come when they would need to make their own clothes, Mother Montgomery had brought the old loom down from the attic.

The dear woman looked up at Jo with her soft, kind eyes. “Do you care for some more tea?”

“I’m fine, Mother Montgomery.” Jo sighed, setting the newspaper she held in her hand down on the table. “I swear, despite the headlines proclaiming our presumed success, my
Mercury
holds nothing but bad news.”

“I quite agree. Jenna told me she read that
Beast
Butler’s behavior in New Orleans is worse than those heathen Indians out West.”

“How dreadful and quite unpardonable. To treat women so. Arresting them for laughing!”

“Darling, do you think it’s wise to upset yourself over matters that you have no control?” Mother Montgomery looked over at Jo with a concerned expression. “Maybe it would be for the best if you didn’t read any papers for a while.”

“How else am I to know what is going on? The whole of our Mississippi fleet has been annihilated. It is disastrous…we live upon a river. What if their attention turns to Charleston?”

“Oh, dear! When have you become so faint of heart? My woman’s instinct tells me we are safe here, but if you would feel better, we can move back into Charleston.”

“No,” Jo declared. “We need to be here.”

Jo’s hand went instinctively to her growing stomach. She understood Mother Montgomery’s worry. War had seeped into their world and the blinding truth was undeniable. Everything that had existed in the past seemed so completely and utterly destroyed…buried with Wade.

The past was a distant memory. She had to face the realities of the cruel world she now lived. The proclamations that the war would end with the next victory had become quiet whispers, but no one dare speak against the deadly venture for fear of being called traitorous. Jo’s fears went unspoken—that all the brave, courageous men suffered for a barren endeavor.

“Well, I stopped reading the paper after Mrs. King and Mrs. Langston were openly attacked in the paper for riding up and down the streets with their livery footmen while poor soldiers’ wives sat on the sidewalks,” Mother Montgomery abruptly announced. “I was aghast at the nastiness of the article. What more can they expect of us? Have we not footed the bill for this war? Mrs. Langston said that we get so little enjoyment, what harm is there in a brisk ride?”

“Some have said that the war is a rich man’s venture and a poor man’s fight, Mother.”

Jo cast a glance over her shoulder at the voice. Andrew walked around the corner of the porch, followed closely by a somber Jenna. Frowning, his squared jaw tightened in obvious agitation.

Holding a handkerchief in her hand, Jenna patted her reddened eyes. Then she rushed around her brother and flung herself down at her mother’s feet.

There was no need to know what the two siblings were fighting about. Jo knew readily enough—Derek. Last week, Jenna had received news he had been wounded in a skirmish and was recovering in a Richmond hospital. Jenna had been harping at her brother to let her go to her fiancé. Andrew had steadfastly refused.

“Oh, dearest Mother,” Jenna cried with tears in her beautiful eyes. “Andrew is being unreasonable. It is not fair.”

“What is it now, my dear?” Mother Montgomery gently stroked her daughter’s head lying on her knees.

“Maisy told me that her mother traveled to Richmond and cared for her brother. It is not unheard of in these times. Mrs. Reese is still in the city. If I go now, I could stay in the same boarding house. Derek needs me! I will die if something happens to him!”

“Do not be so dramatic, Jenna.” Andrew scowled darkly. “Since I am committed in my duties at the Charleston hospital, I have no time to travel and you truly cannot believe I will allow you to travel by yourself…a single young woman!”

“It is not unheard of these days! Maisy says that lots of women go nurse their injured loved ones. There are so many of our boys hurt and wounded…I could help the cause…”

“I spend most of my days at the Charleston hospital. If you want to help, you can do so there. I will send a telegram and see what I can do for Derek.”

“I don’t care what you say! I am going,” Jenna railed. “Derek has no one else…not with both his parents dying of typhoid and his brother fighting Heaven knows where.”

“Jenna, perhaps Andrew is right,” Jo interceded. “I understand you are upset, but it is not reasonable…”

“Reasonable! I’m sick to death of being sensible. I have always been the obedient daughter, but if it was you, Jo…you would not be questioned! Not you! We have to keep Jo happy!”

Shocked by the venom in Jenna’s voice, Jo’s expression dropped. “Jenna, how could you say such a thing?”

“How can I not? If it had been Wade, no one would hesitate to go. Why is Derek different? He is as much family as you and has not put the family through what you have!” Jenna shouted, lifting her red, swollen face from her mother’s knee. “Tell me that you would not! Do not pretend that you have no knowledge of what I say. Not after everything that has happened because of you!”

“Jenna, that is quite enough!” Mother Montgomery gasped. “Don’t take out your unhappiness on Jo. We all have suffered these last few months.”

Rising to her feet, Jenna would not be calmed. She lashed out. “Yes…yes, we have suffered, but none like Josephine. We have to suffer in silence. I will be silent no more.”

“Lord Almighty, Jenna, hush!” Andrew said, sharp and direct.

An awkward moment of silence followed. Jo’s eyebrows rose as she stared at her sister-in-law in disbelief. She understood that Jenna was distraught, but it was a mortifying thing to hear such animosity in her voice directed at her.

The siblings faced each other; their eyes locked. Then, slowly, the tense lines on Andrew’s face eased. “Your anger should be at me, sister. Not Josephine.”

Despite Andrew’s words to redirect Jenna’s emotions, Jo was on the verge of hysteria herself. Battle after battle, disaster after disaster had well-worn on her nerves, but, now, she had come to the realization that the family resented her presence.

She wrung her hands and glanced back and forth between the three of them. For a brief moment, comprehension swept through her. Why would they not? Had her papa not forced her union with Wade and threatened to take away their way of life if they had not complied with his proposal?

With Wade’s death, Magnolia Bluff had fallen to her and her children. Reprimanding herself greatly, she had wrapped herself in a cocoon of grief, thinking only of herself…her children. Good Lord, did they not know they were her family…her only family? She choked back her own welling tears.

Taking a step back, Andrew rubbed his forehead as if his head hurt. His frown was deep and fierce. “I have tried to keep from you women our predicament, but it was foolish.” His attention turned to his sister. “You have misdirected your anger. It is not just because it is not fitting for you to travel, but it is because we have to be frugal with our money.”

“Are we paupers?” Jenna brushed away tears.

“No, of course not, but the war has caused us a hardship. We are in better shape than most plantations in the area, but Confederate money has dropped its worth and prices have risen dramatically. We have not been able to get our crops to market.”

The news was not shocking to Jo. Already, changes had occurred on the plantation. White flour had become scarce and cornbread had replaced biscuits and rolls at meals, but Magnolia Bluff had been fortunate that food was on the table for every meal, most of it being harvested from their own fields. It was not only the family who had to be fed and clothed, but the slaves as well, stretching their limited resources.

Once what had been a profitable crop, cotton had dropped to five cents a pound. Rice had suffered a similar fate, commanding no price outside of South Carolina. The blockade kept the money crops to rot in the fields or cotton to be stored to be sold after the war.

“Surely, it is not as bad as all that, Andrew.” Mother Montgomery fanned herself profusely. “You are scaring us.”

“I do not mean to scare you, Mother,” Andrew continued. “But you must face certain truths. Wade committed a great deal of money to two of Hampton’s regiments besides what we committed to the government. It would be foolish to expect the government bonds to be paid back in the immediate future. We need only to be prudent.”

Jenna regained a small bit of composure. Silent tears fell from her eyes. “Dear brother, my heart can’t accept I can do nothing. I fear for Derek.”

His head shook in a slow manner. Andrew said in a subdued voice, “I wish there was more that I could do.”

Clutching her hand to her heart, Jenna visibly flinched and seemed to lose her balance. Andrew gripped her arm and helped her sit.

“I have to go to him.” Jenna sobbed.

“Quite impossible,” Andrew said firmly.

As she looked into Jenna’s face, Jo saw herself. If it had been Wade, nothing…nothing would have kept her from him…if only Wade had been injured. What if Derek didn’t survive his injuries? What would she have done to see Wade one more time!

From the corner of her eye, she saw Percival run up the steps to see what all the commotion was about, followed by a worried Anna. Poor Mother Montgomery could do little to comfort Jenna.

“I think she should go.” Jo spoke in a soft voice, but all eyes turned on her, shocked and in disbelief. Jo reaffirmed her statement. “I think Jenna should go to Richmond.”

****

The trunk was packed and locked; the tickets bought. Jenna was prepared to go north, accompanied by Rosa. The journey would be arduous; the railroads were in bad shape. Jo watched the carriage loaded up with Percival at her side. His pout proved the little one wasn’t happy at being left behind.

Already seated, Andrew waited to take his sister to the train. The arrangements had been made. Telegrams sent. Mrs. Reese was to meet Jenna at the train station and Jenna was to stay at the same boarding house.

Good-byes said, Jenna gripped the carriage door and then hesitated. She ran back to Jo and hugged her tightly. “Thank you…thank you.”

“Go and bring him home,” Jo encouraged.

Standing with Mother Montgomery, Jo watched until the carriage was out of sight. A moment later, she felt her mother-in-law’s hand grip hers.

“She will be fine. Have faith.”

“I know she needed to go. It is hard, though…” Mother Montgomery’s voice faltered.

A moment of silence ensued. Jo prayed that Jenna’s journey would be safe. She would not be able to live with herself if something happened to Jenna now that she was the reason Jenna was allowed to journey to Richmond.

Jenna’s bitter attack had stunned Jo, but the harsh words had woken Jo from the slumbered daze that Wade’s death had caused. For so long, she had had Wade…before him, her papa…to protect her from the rapacious world about her. She had no one now…only herself.

She had wanted to cry out.
Have you forgotten that it was my inheritance that saved Magnolia Bluff?
Instead, she finally accepted the truth she had long denied—Wade was gone forever. It was now her responsibility to keep the family together.

Despite knowing that Jenna lashed out her hurt upon Jo, it was humiliating nonetheless to hear the words spoken about one’s self. Pushing back her wounded pride, she did the only thing she knew to do to draw the family back together.

The gold coins Wade had left her in case she had need of them were hidden in her room. She reprimanded herself that she had not done so before. She took them all and gave them to Andrew for the family’s use, alleviating the financial burden of Jenna’s venture.

The final epiphany dawned upon Jo. The war was not only on the battlefield, but on the home front. Jo prepared herself for battle to maintain Magnolia Bluff and the family.

* * * *

Surprisingly, the summer at Magnolia Bluff passed peacefully. The war seemed a distant rumble. Somehow…someway life found a way to continue and sometimes joy filtered into the void within Josephine.

Jenna returned with Derek and the family rejoiced. For two and a half months, Jenna nursed the gravely ill man. Shortly after she arrived in Richmond, the two married at his bedside, not knowing whether he would survive or not. He had.