The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (29 page)

Turning even whiter than he had been, Ollafson nodded his head in silence as he witnessed the wrath of John Henry for the first time. Thomas turned and left.

“Well, I never heard the professor so cowed before. Your Colonel Thomas must be a man of deep thought.”

“Well, maybe not deep thought, but he can scare the hell out of people when he wants.”

Before Taylor could comment on Thomas’s demeanor further, a brown hand reached down seemingly from nowhere and plucked the purple feather from Claire’s hat. The hat actually lifted from her head for a brief instant and then settled as the feather was freed. She looked up just in time to see Gray Dog disappear into the ship’s rigging above their heads.

“You thieving bastard!” Dugan called as he returned from the lower decks. “You give that back!”

Claire readjusted her hat and then looked from Sergeant Major Dugan to Taylor. “I must say one thing—this little odyssey is going to be interesting.”

“I suspect so, even with the warnings on those maps belowdecks.”

“What warnings?” Claire asked as she removed the hat for good, exposing her curled and coiffed red hair.

“The ones that describe the legend about the place we are going.”

“I don’t follow you,” she said as she stabbed her hatpin into the hat.

“The warnings that say, here there be dragons.”

She watched as Taylor removed his gray hat and then bowed as he left. She tried not to take Colonel Taylor seriously, but then realized she didn’t know exactly what to expect out there even with his bad joke. She looked to the east and shuddered.

“Here there be dragons.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe not dragons, but something far worse.”

The three ships, with the
Argo
in her disguise as a barge in tow, slowly made their way toward the one place on Earth God had placed off limits to mankind—Mount Ararat.

*   *   *

It was one thirty
A.M.
and the
Yorktown
was battened down for the night. The shipboard watch kept their eyes mostly on the horizon, looking for lights of another vessel in their vicinity, but every now and again they would cast wary eyes on the deck below. Thus far the Confederate prisoners had been well behaved, but a warning from the army colonel persuaded the naval crew to be aware. He suspected their strength gain from a steady diet would tend to make Colonel Taylor’s men more apt to attempt a takeover of the
Yorktown
, and for that reason the topside watch was armed with pistols. Thomas was noting this in his journal for the president when a light knock sounded on the door to the commander’s cabin.

“It’s open,” came the curt response as he closed his journal and then quickly rolled up the map of Eastern Turkey he had been studying. The door opened cautiously.

“Excuse me. I saw your lamps were still burning. May I have a word?” Claire Richelieu said as she poked her head into the opening.

John Henry didn’t respond other than to nod his head. He started to stand but Madame Richelieu waved him down. “We don’t need that while in transit, or no man would ever get any work done,” she said seriously as she entered and closed the door.

John Henry remained standing. “Please leave the door ajar, Miss.”

“Oh, yes, I guess we should show some propriety.”

“Tongues wag even more on naval vessels, Madame.”

“Yes, I suppose they would. May I have a word?” she said as she stepped farther into the large cabin. John Henry noticed she was absent the large hat she tended toward and her collar was unbuttoned above the tight bodice of her dress. For the first time in a trick of lighting Thomas could now see why Claire wore the large hats. Running along her cheek to her jawline was a thin scar that was usually hidden by a veil on her hat. In the light of the cabin she didn’t seem to care if Thomas noticed the scar or not. She stood before him silently as he started to ease himself back into the chair. He quickly ran a hand through his dark hair and then studied Claire for the longest thirty seconds of the woman’s life.

“Madame, I believe I gave explicit orders for you to be accompanied at all times by either a uniformed Union officer or any of the naval personnel. Never are you to roam belowdecks at any time. Is that now clear?” His blue eyes bore into her hazel ones and she didn’t flinch.

“Colonel, I assure you I need no babysitter on this voyage.”

“Nonetheless.”

She half-bowed her head in compliance. “I acquiesce to the man’s world we live in.”

“Bow to whatever you would like, Madame. Stay clear of the prisoners.” John Henry started to place the maps back into their proper order and then stood to unbutton his coat as he turned to Claire. “Now, what can I help you with?” He hung up the coat and then undid his loosened bow tie.

“Well, I’m afraid I came to see you about, well,
you
.”

John Henry stopped all motion and then looked at the small woman with the blazing red hair, which now hung loose around her shoulders. She didn’t look cowed at all and stood straight while keeping her eyes on him waiting for a reaction.

“Now you’ve seen me. What can I help with?”

She watched as he returned to the desk, frustrated at delaying his sleep.

“I believe you are going to get most of these men killed, Colonel.”

“I suspect I may, Miss. But in the interest of clarity, in which context do you place your meaning?” He took the closed journal and placed it in the uppermost drawer of the desk and then he looked at her. His expression revealed he really wasn’t pleased with the statement she had made.

“You, sir, are not taking this expedition seriously. Your behavior will spread to the members of this voyage and corrupt it. That will be very dangerous for you and for all of us.”

John Henry did not respond in the least. His eyes remained on Claire.

Claire stepped farther into the room and the lamp from the desk clearly defined the woman’s features. Thomas could see that she was quite beautiful in an academic way. She was a confident person and he immediately knew her to be a woman like his deceased wife. Headstrong and opinionated.

“While you may not believe in the tale, you must take this curse seriously. The professor is not exaggerating the losses to previous attempts at Ararat. Many men have paid for not giving history credit. While you may think this is a Bible tale, I assure you, Colonel Thomas, it is much more than that.”

“Madame, I take everything seriously when it comes to protecting my men under any circumstance. However, that being said, the only dangers I believe we face are human in nature. This little excursion into Turkey could cause problems that no one foresaw other than the president, and for the first time I cannot agree with his method of reaching out to the South after the war. It will take more than a biblical legend to heal this country. So you see, my attention in this matter is solely dedicated to getting all men home from this, North or South.”

“I just need to ask, Colonel, if you hate this mission so badly, why did you ever accept it? From my understanding of the meetings held between Mr. Lincoln and Professor Ollafson, this was strictly voluntary. So why?”

“You are not militarily trained, Madame. You never ask an officer why he does something. I invoke that unwritten rule now, except to tell you that I would go to the ends of the earth for the president, and leave it at that.”

“I was speaking with Colonel Taylor. He seems to be a very astute and intelligent man.”

“Yes, he is. Very much so. And I may add he is one of the most dangerous men in the country. There was more than one reason why we brought the colonel along.”

“And what was that?” she asked, watching John Henry’s jaw clench, relax, and then clench again.

“He thinks faster in a saddle than any man I have ever known. He would be a detriment to the Northern cause if he were ever to escape and rejoin the fight. You may not have been briefed on this, but I will inform you anyway. Colonel Taylor was pegged early on by Robert E. Lee to become a commander in the western fight, which would have spelled disaster for General Grant in Tennessee. So I brought him along to stop that scenario from ever taking place. President Lincoln thought so too, since he was picked for the mission not long after I was selected.”

“I understand you two attended West Point together.”

John Henry just looked at the woman from Harvard and didn’t say anything.

“And that he is, or was, your brother-in-law.”

“May I help you with some other … problem?”

Claire knew she would get no more from John Henry that night.

“Yes, you have answered everything, whether you wanted to or not. Just do not underestimate the dangers we face to the men, Colonel, because any carelessness on their part could turn this little fairy tale, as you call it, into a very real nightmare.” Claire turned and left the cabin.

John Henry watched her go and then slumped down in his chair. He knew the scholar was right about one thing. He could not show his doubts in the presence of anyone ever again. That would make men sloppy in their duties. He just wanted to get there and convince the president there was absolutely nothing on that damned mountain other than the glacier they would have to climb. He shook his head and closed his eyes, and before he knew it he was fast asleep.

*   *   *

Claire stopped by amidships and saw the black mess steward was up early, or up late, she didn’t know which. He was making coffee for the midnight watch when she tapped lightly on the small galley kitchen’s door.

“Oh, goodness, Missy, you shouldn’t be up roaming around at this time of the morning,” he said as he moved quickly to the door, wiping his hands on a white apron.

“Couldn’t sleep. I smelled that wonderful coffee of yours.”

He immediately went to the enclosed stove and quickly poured her a tin cup full of the rich coffee. She took it with a smile and then sipped.

“Really, Missy, belowdecks on a warship is no place for a lady like yourself.” The steward moved off to tend to a batch of biscuit dough and started kneading it.

“Yes, our intrepid Colonel Thomas has told me as much, time and time again.”

The black man smiled as he worked. “His reputation is one that even we boys in the navy have heard about, yes, ma’am. He’s a tough hickory nut to crack, almost as tough as Captain Jackson. Those two together can make for an explosive mix.”

“I’m sure they are mixing up famously.” Claire took one more sip of coffee and then reached out and handed the steward the cup. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Now, now, you hold up and I’ll make sure you get back to your cabin.”

“No, you have work to do. I assure you, I’ll be fine,” she said, smiling as she turned and made her way down the darkened passage. She could hear the prisoners one deck below snoring and coughing, but tried to pay the sounds no mind.

She eased around a barrel of flour and was almost to the door when a rough and smelly hand closed around her mouth. She was pulled into the darkness next to the hull and then forced down. Her eyes widened when she saw three men in civilian clothing. One was pawing at her bodice and ripping at her blouse while two others held her down to the damp deck. The man straddling her was bearded and his eyes were wild. She had seen him numerous times when the prisoners’ exercise period had ended and they passed on the lower decks. She had noticed the way he had looked at her. That should have been warning enough to heed the colonel’s words about putting desperately lonely men in a position where they reacted and didn’t think before doing something stupid. The man was ripping her blouse and painfully grabbing her. The two other men holding her down looked to be frightened. She thought she could take advantage of that. Her eyes were pleading with the two men, who looked as if they would rather be somewhere else at that very moment.

Suddenly there was a roar from the darkness behind the three men. The next thing she knew, one of the men jerked wildly and then she saw his body being lifted straight up from where he had been, while the other two soldiers’ eyes went wide. It was the black mess steward who had come to help. He brought a ham-sized fist down upon the top of the first man’s head. He fell limp as a caught squirrel. Now the black man looked frightened at what he had done. The attacker, who was still squeezing and battering her upper chest, failed to help his companions because he was so intent on what he was doing.

The second man disappeared suddenly as a war whoop sounded against the hull. Gray Dog was there. He had a knife to the third man’s throat, holding him in place by the sheer look of bloodlust in the Indian’s eyes.

A gun was deliberately cocked right behind the ear of the man who straddling Claire, and his groping motions quickly stopped. Claire’s eyes were wide as the man slowly turned his head and saw the cocked Colt pistol aimed right at him. John Henry Thomas was increasing the pressure on the trigger as his temper was close to boiling over. The mess steward and Gray Dog had the other two men well in hand. Claire felt the pressure leave her mouth and that was when she tasted the blood flowing from her cheeks where the man’s fingers had dug in hard. She spit and then slapped the man across the face. He was attempting to smile at John Henry and knew immediately that the colonel was going to kill him right then and there. He felt the pistol waver minutely as the pressure on the trigger grew.

“John Henry!” came a voice from behind him, and then that was quickly followed by another.

“Colonel Thomas, stop!”

Claire saw the blue eyes of the colonel slowly start return to normal as he eased the hammer down on the Colt. He grimaced when he realized how close he had come to killing the man without a word being spoken.

Thomas finally stood and slapped the man out of his way with the barrel of the Colt. He helped Claire to her feet as she wiped blood from her mouth.

Soon Captain Jackson, resplendent in a dressing gown, had his pistol trained on the three men as Gray Dog pushed the second man forward roughly and the mess steward pulled the groggy third to his feet. Jessy Taylor was there also, having heard the commotion from where he had curled up for the night. The three assailants had passed him in the dark and had awakened him. He was furiously glaring at his three men. Jackson reassured the steward, who was afraid he would be in trouble for nearly killing one of the prisoners.