Chapter 3

2.9K 105 34
                                    

Photo:  One of the cannons of Fort Zachary Taylor.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Yankee spy, Aaron Matthews, has been rescued from a wrecked ship (an unusual way to arrive at his new duty station). He has arrived in the island and soon will move in with a Key West family and begin secretly looking for a Rebel saboteur.   Josephine Marie Thibodeaux is in for a surprise when she pounces on her brother's bed thinking Richard hasn't gone to war after all.  

Enjoy chapter 3 of Mudsills & Mooncussers.  :)

~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   ~o~   



Minutes later, in the dusk at Fort Zachary Taylor, Colonel T.H. Good stood on the ramparts, 50 feet above Key West harbor and the Gulf of Mexico, observing the activities on Tift's Wharf through his spyglass. A noise attracted Colonel Good's attention—someone climbing the steps from the parade ground to the shadows behind him. The colonel did not turn to look at the newcomer.

"Matheson?" the colonel ventured.

"Matthews, sir," answered a deep voice from the shadows.

Colonel Good continued his observations, throwing his words over his shoulder. "Matthews, then. If I may say so, Lieutenant, you chose the devil's own way to get here. But for your encounter with Pelican Shoal, I might have had to arrest you for a blockade runner. A lot of help you'd be to me sitting in jail at Fort Jefferson."

"You would've had to catch me first." The silence lingered almost too long before Aaron added, "Sir."

Colonel Good lowered his spyglass and delivered an affectionate pat to a massive black cannon pointing toward the sea. "Lieutenant, if I thought there was a ghost of a chance we wouldn't catch you, I'd have blown you out of the water. And if I didn't, the Union Navy's blockade ships would. And if they didn't, the guns at Fort Jefferson would. We are the gateposts to the Gulf, Lieutenant. Nobody gets into our yard without being seen by one or the other of us."

"May I beg the colonel's indulgence to continue this audience in the colonel's office?" asked Aaron.

"You may not. This wind keeps the infernal mosquitos at bay, and I am partial to these sunsets."

The western sky glowed orange, red, pink, and purple as the sun sank into the Gulf of Mexico. Colonel Good and his cannon loomed as black shapes between Aaron and the dying sun. Aaron leaned well back into the shadows.

The colonel broke the silence. "What did you think you were doing, Matthews?"

"My job, sir. The one I've been given, not the one I would have chosen. Sir."

"Yes, yes, I know. The ignobility of it all. And what in God's name did you think you would do if you had not grounded on Pelican? Go on to Mobile?"

"Perhaps I would've been welcome there. I thought they picked me for this job because of my social connections in Charleston. I could have visited the homes of Confederate supporters—maybe even officers and politicians. I might even have done some good. ... Sir."

The colonel scoffed. "Until they caught you and hauled you before a Rebel firing squad. Your work is here. You will forego martyrdom for the time being, Lieutenant."

Aaron came to his feet, but before he could turn away the colonel wheeled to face Aaron and laid his spyglass gently but firmly on Aaron's shoulder.

"Tell me what you saw in the harbor when you left Havana," the colonel said.

"A couple of English-built sloops, very fast I think, and one frigate with nasty looking cannon."

Mudsills & Mooncussers (#multimedia)Where stories live. Discover now