The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (28 page)

“His name was Jason,” Thomas finished.

The others looked at each in turn as they recalled the tale from antiquity.

“Yes, and everyone here is what Rhodius called the Argonauts.”

“Imagine that!” said the Frenchman, who looked at Claire with a raised brow.

“Yes, the colonel is correct. We seek the Ark of Noah, although for Jason, it was a search for the Golden Fleece.”

They all looked at Claire, who surprised them with her classical knowledge.

Taylor laughed and then finally stood from his chair and made his way to the door where he awaited the sergeant major to open it. He turned.

“Each as fictitious as the next.” He smiled, bowed, and then left the cabin.

John Henry watched him leave as the others filed out behind him. Only Claire remained for a moment as she pulled off her gloves.

“Tell me you believe the professor,” she asked as John Henry held the door for her.

“I believe in very little, Miss Richelieu, very little.”

“A man who can’t believe in magic anymore,” she said as she moved past him into the companionway, “is really kind of sad.”

Thomas watched her go and wondered what she meant by magic. He shook his head and then saw Gray Dog rise from the shadows. He looked at the colonel and then after the lady.

“Not magic, John Henry, but bad medicine waits for you on the black mountain.”

With that, Thomas watched him leave and wondered if everyone he knew were living in the same world as himself.

In the world he knew, there was no magic. There was only struggle and death.

9

TWO HUNDRED MILES EAST OF CAPE HATTERAS

John Henry stood upon the quarterdeck of the
Yorktown
as she speedily made her way to the selected rendezvous point with the
Argo
. He was looking through the leather-bound journal he had been ordered to keep by the president. As he reviewed the pages he had written, he came to realize that absolutely no one other than Professor Ollafson, and possibly his assistants, believed in what they were attempting to do. He had yet to commit his opinion into the official record of the voyage. While he firmly believed they would find nothing on the slopes of Ararat, while his written words would undoubtedly confirm his nonbelief in the tales of the Bible, he still firmly believed in Lincoln.

He closed the journal after entering the morning’s events. Thus far the prisoners had behaved, although at several points since departure they’d had to separate several Rebels from their marine guards and the sailors of the huge warship. The animosity between North and South belligerents was readily apparent.

As he watched the men below, the sailors were going about their business and steering a wide berth around the Confederates, who were washing and mending their old and worn uniforms. John Henry had learned that Taylor and his men were adamant that they would wear their Rebel clothing anytime they thought they would have to fight anyone—that was including John Henry and his men. Until then they would reluctantly wear the civilian clothing given out to them by the war department.

“I have been meaning to ask you, sir, how in the world did the president convince you to go on this wild-goose chase?”

John Henry had not realized that Captain Jackson had strolled up behind him. The young naval officer was smartly uniformed even in the harsh heat of the afternoon sun. Even his two-cornered hat was perfectly adjusted to his head. Thomas looked the officer over and then decided it was time for he and the naval element to talk.

“I don’t think about the orders I am given, Captain Jackson.”

“I assure you, sir, neither do I, but I am rarely given orders this ambiguous. But then again, maybe the navy explains its orders far more clearly to its officers than the president to you. No offense, of course.”

John Henry turned away and continued watching Taylor and his men as they tended to their old uniforms after the backhanded comment by a studious Jackson.

“As I said, I carry out whatever orders I am given.”

“Is that what happened at Antietam?”

“So, you are a student of land engagements as well as sea tactics?” John Henry asked without facing the twenty-eight-year-old officer.

“Only in the sense of history. My expertise is in the development of naval tactics in coordination with land forces, as I believe that is the future of America’s military.”

“So I understand.” Thomas finally turned to face the commander of the small flotilla. “In that frame of context, I am sure that is why Secretary Welles selected you to join us. When and if the time comes, I hope the secretary’s confidence in your abilities is warranted.”

Jackson placed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, expecting the army officer to answer his inquiry about Antietam. He didn’t. Jackson was about to ask again, not understanding the colonel’s hesitancy to answer a question about which every military man in the country had a personal opinion. The hatred shown by General McClellan toward Thomas was legend. One man never showed up the other in front of witnesses. And most assuredly one did not call out his commanding officer on a charge of cowardice and dereliction of duty. He was about to broach the subject again when a call was heard from high above.

“Ship ahoy!” came the call from the lookout in the crow’s nest a hundred feet above. “Ten degrees off the starboard bow!”

John Henry and Jackson both looked. There she was. The U.S.S.
Carpenter
had
Argo
already in tow. Both vessels were rigged for sail and were under way.

“Captain Abernathy is right on schedule,” Jackson said as he looked through the telescope in his hands. “I calculate they are at a respectable eight knots. Not bad at all.” He lowered the spyglass and then turned to his first officer. “Mr. Harvey, set all sails and let’s get moving, shall we?”

The officer saluted and went out to give the order to deploy every sail the
Yorktown
had.

“Did Ericsson design the
Argo
to ride so low in the water?” John Henry asked as he lowered his own field glasses.

Jackson gave out a short laugh. “We learned from the battle of Hampton Roads, Colonel, that Mr. Ericsson is never totally sure about anything. And the
Argo
is one of those things.”

“Well, I hope she doesn’t founder before we may need her,” Thomas continued as he again raised his glasses and studied the two ships. The
Argo
was much wider of beam than her tow, the
Carpenter
. However, she rode in the water well below her high-water mark and it looked like any rough seas would sink their ace in the hole.

“As I see it, Colonel Thomas, she could go to the bottom right now and we would never miss her, simply because there is nothing on that mountain to find, thus, nothing to protect or defend,” Jackson said and then moved off to motivate his men to hurry.

John Henry heard the doubt in the captain’s statement and he wondered if his own attitude was festering so much that it was starting to spill over into the thoughts of the men under his command.

“All right, you Rebs gather up your washing and your knitting, time to go below. Its noontime and you know that our lady passenger has the deck at noon. Time for chow anyway,” Dugan said as he started herding the men down below. Dugan stopped in front of Taylor, who glanced up at John Henry. The sergeant major eventually did the same when he saw Taylor was ignoring his command. John Henry shook his head and then Dugan let out a frustrated but silent curse and then left the colonel on deck. Taylor turned and made his way to the quarterdeck and Thomas.

“You think my men don’t have a modicum of decorum, do you? I assure you the boys treat women in the south as well as yours do in the north. Miss Richelieu has no reason to fear them. Besides, John Henry, that woman looks capable of fending off any suitors that may crop up on this little trip.”

Thomas turned and faced Taylor. This was the first moment they’d had together since his betrayal the night before. The escape attempt was still fresh in the colonel’s mind.

“The order of exclusion stands, Colonel.”

“Colonel? Are you that put out at me that you forget we were once friends, and even related?”

“I guess there are too many years and far too many battles to return to old times, Colonel. After last night I realized that. The order stands.”

Taylor raised a brow and then turned and saw the object of their conversation step onto the main deck. She was followed by Ollafson and his two assistants, who seemed to irritate the old Swede to no end. Thomas’s eyes were on these two odd ducks and not Claire Richelieu.

“She is something, though, isn’t she, John Henry?” Taylor asked, thinking Thomas was studying Claire.

Thomas was taken by surprise by Taylor’s misinformed assumption. He shook his head and then went to the small set of steps that led to the main deck and offered Miss Richelieu an extended hand.

“Thank you,” she said, not allowing Thomas to assist. “If I’m expected to climb a mountain in the early onset of a Turkish winter, I think I can negotiate these ten steps, sir.”

Thomas smiled and then stepped out of the way with a fingertip to the brim of his western-style hat. He laughed when the freshening wind of the speeding ship blew the large purple feather garnishing her wide-brimmed hat into her face.

“Don’t let my man Gray Dog see that little item. He has a thing for fancy feathers.”

“Is that right?” she said as she went to the railing to enjoy the cool air sweeping the deck.

“Yes, he just can’t imagine the strange eagle it came from, being purple and all.”

Claire turned and for the first time John Henry saw the woman smile.

“So be careful. That coyote hat he wears used to belong to Mrs. Lincoln.”

Both Thomas and Claire turned to see Taylor, who had joined them at the railing.

Claire didn’t say anything. She only looked at Taylor and saw that there had at one time been something between these two men. She had heard the conversations below from the whispered voices of the crew and some prisoners. She studied the Confederate colonel, half-smiled, and then returned to face the calm seas.

“So, from what I understand, you’re the lady who speaks in the language of the angels?”

Claire smiled without turning. “Please, I only speak in the tongues of archangels, Colonel Taylor. Never, ever just an everyday, ordinary kind. That would be quite beneath me.”

Taylor laughed and then stepped up beside the woman with the flaming red hair. John Henry silently moved away to join Professor Ollafson, who had his hat off and was also taking in the coolness after so long below going over expedition planning.

“Having any trouble below with the men? I mean, the close quarters and all?”

Ollafson turned and faced the colonel. He smiled and then held out his hand to shake. Thomas hesitated, wondering if the professor even remembered who he was. He knew he was wearing his cavalry uniform and not his dress, but he didn’t think it was that much of a difference. He wondered if maybe the professor was on the short side of senility. He shook the old man’s hand anyway.

“No, no trouble at all. The crew has been very helpful.”

Thomas released his hand and nodded at the two men who had joined them. Neither Cromwell nor McDonald offered a hand in greeting and Thomas was at least thankful for that.

“My meaning was the prisoners, Professor.”

“Oh, them.” Ollafson looked uncomfortable as he glanced around. He then leaned into John Henry. “Those men scare me, I’m afraid. I have never seen Rebel soldiers up close before. The last two days have been eye-opening, to say the least.”

“Well, in the end you will discover that they are only men like you and I, Professor.” John Henry looked at the two men next to him. “Gentlemen, will you excuse us for a brief moment so I can have a word with Professor Ollafson?”

Both men dipped their heads and then silently moved away. Only Cromwell turned back momentarily, catching himself before anyone could notice his curiosity. The man next to him, McDonald, had not noticed anything.

“Professor, how well do you know your two new assistants?”

Ollafson removed a handkerchief and then wiped his sweating brow as the sea and wind assisted in cooling him down.

“Not at all, I’m afraid. They seem to be knowledgeable enough on the subject matter at hand, but in answer to your question, Colonel, I have never seen either of them before. But my assistant Claire has, and I trust her implicitly.”

“Implicitly enough not to trust her with your interpretation of the petrified wood and its warning before our meeting in the capital?”

Ollafson didn’t answer the second inquiry as he stopped wiping his brow and fixed Thomas with his eyes. “That has nothing to do with trust, Colonel, I assure you. It has to do with keeping my friends and my colleagues alive and breathing. In case you weren’t informed, my young assistant was murdered in New York just a few days ago. So forgive me for keeping certain facts close to the vest, as they say.”

Thomas was now about to explode. He faced the professor and the old man could see Thomas was not a man who liked surprises.

“Why in the hell wasn’t I notified about this murder of your student?”

Ollafson was hesitant to answer. He looked out to sea toward home and then decided it was too late for Thomas to turn the ships back to port.

“I … I … well, Colonel, I was afraid the expedition would have been delayed or that I would not be allowed to participate.”

“For God’s sake, Professor, you lost a kid to a murder and you’re worried that you would not get to go?” Thomas faced the opposite direction and saw that his loud exclamation had grabbed the attention of not only Captain Jackson, but Claire, Taylor, and the others. They watched from afar. John Henry forcibly calmed himself before turning.

“You will never keep anything from me again. If I’m to get everyone home from this I need help. Do not get my men killed because you are afraid to say something. Is that clear, Professor?”