Blockade Runner (10 page)

Leah came over and stood at the rail, looking down at the water. “She’s all right—she and Ensign Hardinge are walking together up in the bow.”

“Seems to me like she’s spending a lot of time with that Yankee.”

“She is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody quite like him.”

“Well, he’s nice-looking, all right,” Jeff admitted grudgingly, “but he’s still a Yankee.”

“She knows that. Miss Belle doesn’t usually mistake Yankees for Confederates.” At once Leah appeared sorry she had spoken so sharply. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, talking like that.”

Jeff bit his lip and tried to find a way to say what was inside him, but he could only say lamely under his breath, “Well, I guess we’ve all been under a strain.”

“What do you think will happen to us, Jeff?”

“I don’t imagine they’ll put us in jail. They might if they knew I was in the Confederate army—but you took care of that.”

“It wasn’t just me.”

“Sure it was. You thought of it.”

She seemed pleased with his gratitude. “Well, anyway, I’m glad we did it. You don’t need to be in a prison. They’re bad. Ezra almost died in one.”

It suddenly pleased Jeff that she was worried about him, and he was about to say he was sorry. But again he somehow had trouble getting the words out and just said gruffly, “Well, I guess I’d better go back—got work to do.” As he walked away,
he thought glumly,
Why do I have to act like such a mule around Leah? I’m all mixed up
.

Belle was brushing her dark hair when a tap came at her cabin door. “Who is it?” she called out.

“Ensign Hardinge!”

“Oh!” She took a look at herself in the mirror, smoothed her hair, then put down the brush and rose to her feet.

She opened the door, smiling. “Yes, Ensign Hardinge?”

“I brought some special coffee on board from the
Connecticut
. Been saving it for a special occasion. Would you come and have a cup with me, Miss Belle?”

“Why, I’d be delighted to, Ensign.”

As she stepped outside, Hardinge said, “Do you think you could ever come to call me something besides
Ensign?
I feel like saluting you every time you say that. Perhaps Sam?”

Belle laughed. “I don’t think that would be very appropriate. After all, I’m your prisoner. You shouldn’t call your jailer by his first name.”

Hardinge smiled down at her. He seemed completely captivated by her. Perhaps he had been ready to be captivated. She knew he would have read everything printed about the Rebel Spy. Perhaps he had expected to find her less than the accounts that he had read but had found that they had understated her charms.

“Well, perhaps when we’re alone, then. Just once in a while. It would make me feel more human.”

“I’ll think about it, Ensign.” Belle smiled up at him.

They entered the dining room, and she found that Hardinge had one of the tables set with a white
cloth. There were small cakes on a silver tray, and a sailor dressed in white was standing there with hot coffee.

Hardinge seated her, and, after the sailor had poured the coffee and left, she picked up hers and sipped it. “Oh, this is heavenly,” she said. “I love coffee.”

“So do I,” Sam Hardinge said. He took one of the cakes and tasted it. “I love cakes too. If I ate all I wanted, I’d probably weigh three hundred pounds.”

Belle did not think this was likely. He was better built than any man she had ever seen, with a neat, tidy waist, broad shoulders, and a deep chest. Looking at him, she thought,
He’s almost too pretty to be a man. Still, he’s virile enough for all of that!

She sat there with him happily, eating cakes and enjoying the coffee.

Finally Hardinge said, “What will you do after the war is over, Belle—if I may call you that here in private?”

“I suppose that will be all right—Sam.” She favored him with a smile. Then she thought of his question. “I don’t know. I don’t suppose many of us in the South can think that far ahead. It’s a matter of living day by day.”

Hardinge dropped his head and stared into his coffee cup. “I know your people have suffered dreadfully—more than the people in the North. And I’m sorry.”

His simplicity and honesty touched her. Without thinking, she reached over and put her hand on his. “I know that comes from your heart,” she murmured. “You’re a very strange man, Sam Hardinge. Most Yankees are not so thoughtful.”

“Most are. We’re all caught in this.”

Hardinge had to be very much aware of her firm, warm hand on his.

She removed it to pick up her cup.

“Are you engaged, Belle?” he asked suddenly.

“Not at the moment,” she said demurely.

Hardinge grinned again, which made him look very young—and very handsome too. “So right now you’re between fiancés, so to speak?”

He had a wit that she liked. She enjoyed being teased and had found out that Hardinge could do it tastefully. “Yes, you might say that. Sometimes I’ve let myself get engaged to Union officers,” she said, “so that I could find out what their troops were doing.”

“Well—” Hardinge pretended to think this over “—I don’t have any troop movements to report, but I’d be perfectly willing to let you try out your charm on me. I think it would be successful. Come now, try to get my secrets!”

Belle suddenly realized,
I’m flirting with this man, and he’s right—he doesn’t have any information to give me. The only Yankees I’ve flirted with are those that I wanted something out of. But Sam is different!

Finally Belle realized with a start how long they had been talking. “My gracious!” she said. “I don’t believe this ship needs you at all for a commander. We’ve been here an hour, and it’s still going along. I thought you had to steer this ship?”

“Be hard to miss Boston.” Hardinge made a face. He stood to his feet, and when she rose he said quietly, “I wish you didn’t have to go to Boston. I know it will be unpleasant for you there, and I’m sorry.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that—Sam—that you’re sorry. I can’t believe that all Yankees
treat their prisoners in such a kindly and compassionate manner.”

Suddenly Hardinge took her hand and raised it to his lips. “How could I be less than gentle to a woman with a spirit and a beauty such as yours?”

He released her hand and stepped back, adding, “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

Belle was flustered. She had romanced enough officers so that a kiss on her hand came as no shocking thing. Still, there was something in his manner that she liked tremendously.

“How gallant you are, sir,” she whispered, then turned and left the dining room.

“I tell you, Hardinge, you’ve got to stop it!” Swasey’s face was red. His back was erect, and there was anger in his eyes.

“Stop what, Swasey?”

“Don’t beat around the bush. You know what I mean—romancing that Rebel spy!”

Hardinge turned to look at him. “You tend to your duties, Mr. Swasey, and I’ll appreciate it.”

“You’re setting a bad example before the men.”

“Do you want to charge me with any misconduct?”

“Well … not directly … but you ought to have better sense. You know what she is.”

“What does that mean—I ‘know what she is’?”

“I mean, she’s been in prison. She’s a spy. You know she is—you’ve read about her.”

“Ensign Swasey, that’s the end of this conversation! Get about your duties, or I’ll have to speak to you more strictly.”

“I’ll get even with you for this, you see if I don’t!”

Hardinge was well aware that Swasey’s rage stemmed from the fact that he had tried his own charm on Belle and had been thoroughly rebuffed.

“I’ll get you. You can’t treat me like this,” Swasey muttered deep in his throat as he stalked off.

Later that night, Jeff came upon Ensign Hardinge on deck and stood aside to let him pass.

“Good evening,” the ensign said. “Your name is Majors, isn’t it? Jeff Majors?”

“Why, yes, it is, Ensign. I didn’t think you knew it, though.”

“Oh, the ship’s not all that big,” Hardinge said. “Have you been at sea long?”

Jeff felt a start of fear that he might be found out. “No, sir, not long.”

“But you like the sea?”

“Oh, yes, sir, I like it well enough.”

“Where’s your home?”

“Richmond.”

Hardinge continued to talk pleasantly. “My home is in Pennsylvania. Different country from around here. My folks have a big farm there.”

“I come from a farm,” Jeff said quickly. “Not a big one, though—just a small place.”

As the two stood talking, Jeff realized that Hardinge was making no attempt to plumb his secret.

Finally the ensign asked, “Have you known Miss Leah long? Miss Belle tells me you two are old friends, so I guess you have.”

“Oh, yes, we grew up very close together. Mostly in Kentucky, though.”

“She’s a very attractive young lady. The captain told me her brother is in the Federal army.”

“Yes, sir, that’s true.”

Hardinge looked out over the sea, then turned back to Jeff. “I get pretty tired of this having to choose sides—the country torn right down the middle. For a young fellow like you, that’s a bad way to grow up. I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”

Despite himself, Jeff nodded. “I will too, Ensign. I guess most of us will be.”

“Well, good night, Jeff.”

“Good night, Ensign.”

Later on Jeff spoke to Captain Bier. “You know, he’s not a bad fellow—that Ensign Hardinge. We had us quite a talk on deck.”

“What did you talk about?” the captain asked curiously.

“Oh, mostly just about farming. He was raised on a farm, just like I was.”

“He seems to be a fine officer.”

“What will happen to you, Captain?” Jeff asked then.

“Well, it may go hard with me. They know I’ve brought quite a few ships through the blockade. They also know I was once a member of Stonewall Jackson’s staff. I’ll probably wind up in a prison camp.”

“That would be awful. My father was in one for a while before he got exchanged.”

“Well, it’s up to the Lord to get us out of things like this, so you might say a prayer for me.”

Jeff hesitated. “I guess you might tell Leah that.”

“You mean you don’t pray, my boy?”

“I’m not very good at it.” Jeff was embarrassed by the question. “Good night, Captain. I hope you don’t have to go to prison.”

The
Greyhound
plunged on through the Atlantic, headed north toward Boston. It was a little kingdom of its own, with Ensign Hardinge the king of the realm. His officers were the next level and then the sailors and the civilians.

And as they plowed through the sea, Belle Boyd, down in her cabin, was thinking a great deal of what she had once said:
I want a romantic courtship
.

She stretched out on her bunk and thought of Ensign Hardinge’s chiseled, handsome features, his courtesy, his grace, and she sighed deeply.

“Well, this is romantic enough, even for me!”

The
Greyhound
covered the distance to Boston much quicker than some aboard would have chosen. Captain Bier, for example, hated the thought of arrival, for he knew that he would be transferred almost immediately to one of the prisons reserved for naval officers. It would not be a pleasant experience, and he dreaded the thought of it.

Leah and Jeff had spoken briefly about the future, but neither had any idea of what to expect. So far, no one had mentioned Jeff’s being a member of the Confederate army, and they were both hopeful that this would never come out.

Lieutenant Hardinge wished that his assignment were to sail the ship all the way to the North Pole—for that would give him more time to court Belle Boyd. He was fearful for Belle’s future, knowing it was entirely possible that a military court could sentence her to another term in prison.

Belle had never been charmed by a man as she had been by Sam Hardinge. She knew men very well, and—despite her apparent willfulness and oftentimes flamboyant behavior—she saw in the young sailor a man who had deep feelings and was steady and reliable. She, too, worried about her fate when they got to Boston.

They arrived at Boston harbor one morning and by noon were docked.

Belle came to Leah’s cabin early, which surprised the younger girl considerably.

“I’ve got to talk to you, Leah,” Belle said. She paced the floor nervously.

“What is it, Belle?” Leah asked. She thought for a moment and said, “Are you worried about what’s going to happen to you?”

“Oh, that will be all right, I suppose,” Belle said. She looked as though she had not slept well. Now she glanced up with a strange expression on her face. “What would you think,” she asked slowly, “if I told you that I had fallen in love with Sam Hardinge?”

Leah’s eyes opened wide, but she said almost at once, “I wouldn’t be too surprised, Belle.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Why, of course not. You’re not such a good actress as you might think.” Leah smiled. “You light up like a lamp every time he comes into the room.”

“Oh, I certainly do not!”

“Yes, you do,” Leah argued. “And he does the same every time he sees you.”

Leah’s cabin was so small that Belle had little room to pace. She picked nervously at the fabric of her dress, and a long silence ran on. “Oh, it’s all foolishness, I suppose. But if he asks me to marry him, I’d have a hard time giving him an answer.”

Leah was amazed. “You mean you might marry him?”

“He’s a very attractive man.”

“But he’s not a Confederate.”

“I know that, and of course that should make it impossible. But it still would be a hard matter for me to decide.”

“What would your people say?”

“I know what the whole South would say,” Belle said. “That I was a traitor—I’d joined myself to the enemy. And I guess they’d be right.”

“Somehow I don’t think of Ensign Hardinge as a bad man,” Leah said gently. “As a matter of fact, he’s a very good man. There are good people from the North, you know.”

Belle Boyd did not answer at once.

Leah knew Belle had formed the habit of thinking of all Southerners as good and all Northerners as evil, even though she was wise enough to know that this was not so.