The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (32 page)

“Born into and escaped from, Madame,” Captain Jackson said as he watched the proceedings below with disdain. He glanced at the older army officer and wondered what he planned to accomplish with this fiasco on his deck.

Colonel Taylor stepped into the center of the main deck. “Gentlemen, the wager has been accepted by the entire ship’s company. The agreement will be respected. If my man loses, which he assuredly will not, we will cooperate fully in Mr. Lincoln’s folly. However, if he wins, we will be accorded the open spaces of the ship and an opportunity to return to our army and our people when we return, and without the loss of honor. That’s the agreement.”

John Henry Thomas made eye contact with Jessy. The two men knew one another better than any two men in the military. Thomas knew Jessy would never wait until their return home. Thomas figured he would get his men out of this mission at any opportunity. That was the reasoning for him to sacrifice his man for a possible beating—to get his men above decks. Finally Taylor smiled and then caught the attention of Claire, who raised a brow underneath the dark veil of her sun hat before turning away from the Confederate officer.

“If you
gentlemen
will excuse us, the professor wants to meet with his team belowdecks,” Claire said as she turned away from the barbaric spectacle readying itself on the deck below.

Thomas watched her, Ollafson, and the other two strange birds leave the quarterdeck. He had understood the emphasis she had placed on the word “gentlemen” as she departed. He smirked, as he had the same mocking opinion of not only Taylor, but of himself. Perhaps he had been away from society too long and had forgotten how to do things the civilized way. Perhaps.

A loud cheer went up from the divergent group of men as the navy crew, marines, and prisoners started to gather around in a circle.

On the quarterdeck the men failed to see Captain Jackson nod his head. The marines on the main deck were all off duty and were in a light circle around the hundred Confederate soldiers. What everyone failed to notice was the fact that thirty marines were missing.

All voices went silent as the heavy sound of boot thumps sounded on the wood decking around the men. As the prisoners looked up, they saw the remaining marines file out on both the starboard and then port sides of the
Yorktown
. They came to a stop and then went to rigid attention. Each man was armed with a Henry repeating rifle.

Taylor angrily looked at Thomas once more. John Henry had sent his message and it was now being received loud and clear. The marines would not hesitate to shoot anyone who got out of hand. The Rebel prisoners gave the marines who had joined them on deck foul looks of distaste at the insult. There were more than a few choice words offered to the off-duty marines.

The mess crew was tending to Grandee and offering words of encouragement. The large man looked reluctant to take part in John Henry’s little idea, and the colonel felt badly for having to pick the one man onboard who didn’t deserve what was happening.

“I honestly hope you know what you are doing, Colonel Thomas.”

John Henry smiled. “So do I, Captain Jackson.” His eyes met those of his former friend below as he made his way to his man to offer encouragement. Taylor didn’t look back at John Henry. “So do I.”

*   *   *

“Insanity,” Ollafson said as he spread out a large map on the table inside the captain’s cabin. The sound of the men on deck gave the interior spaces of the
Yorktown
a vibrant feel. Ollafson was not impressed with the military’s foolishness.

“Yes, this Colonel Thomas seems to work in mysterious ways. I believe he will have those prisoners at our throats before this voyage is at an end.”

The old professor looked into the eyes of McDonald. He didn’t know the man but he came off as far more than an amateur historian. However, if Claire vouched for him he had to tolerate his abruptness and arrogance. His eyes went to Cromwell, who seemed to be off in another world. He cleared his throat and then smiled.

“Gentlemen, and lady, I feel a closeness down here that is making me feel quite nauseated. If you’ll excuse me, I think I am better suited to the air topside.”

“Taking in the brutality above decks?” McDonald inquired with a wry smile.

“Not at all, old man. I have seen quite enough barbarity in my lifetime. Just air for me, thank you.” Cromwell nodded and then left the overheated and stuffy cabin.

“Now,” Ollafson said as he placed the oilskin-wrapped parcel on the tabletop over the displayed maps. The heat seemed to rise in the room as McDonald’s and Claire’s eyes fell on the mysterious artifacts ensconced in the oilskin wrapping. As soon as Ollafson started to untie the wrapping they all felt the change in temperature. Claire felt the cold air strike her neck and she shivered. Even McDonald looked around for the source of the sudden cold draft. He shook his head and then he too visibly shivered.

As the professor finally exposed the petrified wood to the cabin’s weak lighting, they all saw the oil lamp flicker, sputter, and then dim. For a reason Claire would later try to dissect in her thoughts, she glanced into the far corner of the cabin where the captain’s sea chest was sitting and she flinched when she saw the shadow between the trunk and the hull expand as if breathing. She closed and opened her eyes quickly only to see bright sunshine where there had been shadow a second before. The bobbing and swaying warship must be playing tricks on her eyes. She looked down at the Angelic script on the ancient wood. For a reason that seemed impossible, the specialist in ancient and dead languages had to turn away. The symbols made her increasingly uncomfortable, and for a woman in her profession, that was not good. She forced her eyes back to the artifact.

“For now, let us concentrate our efforts on these lesser symbols on the second piece.” Ollafson removed the uppermost petrified artifact and set a smaller, less significant piece over the first.

Even McDonald felt far better having the Angelic curse out of view. He took a deep breath and was surprised at himself for acting like such a schoolboy with deep and hidden fears. He too glanced into the darker recesses of the cabin and noticed the black shadows had seemed to take on more defined shapes. He made eye contact with Claire as Ollafson’s story came slipping into his thoughts. It was as if something were just awakening and taking its first few breaths of the day.

For reasons they could never explain, all three of them inside the cabin that day suddenly felt that death was near—very near.

*   *   *

Gray Dog slowly slid down the rope and landed lightly beside the form of Sergeant Major Dugan. The Irishman turned and looked over at the Comanche.

“Where have you been?”

“Why does John Henry allow this?” Gray Dog asked as he watched the foolishness happening in front of him.

“He has reasoning we barbarians don’t see, I guess,” Dugan said as he turned toward the smaller man and then winked. “The colonel thinks a little different than most. Differences I can’t explain, Coyote Head.”

“White men,” Gray Dog mumbled, and then turned to face the sergeant major, “are touched by the crazed eye of the sick dog. They have the foaming sickness in their heads.”

Gray Dog turned and left the scene. Sergeant Major Dugan spit a stream of tobacco juice over the side as he shook his head. “Damn Indian. ’Spose we do have a few cogs missing off the main assembly. But at least we don’t go wearin’ dogs as hats.”

*   *   *

“Huh?” Jenks said, his eyes riveted on the sheer size of the black mess steward. He swallowed and then realized he had gulped his wad of tobacco and sent it burning its way down into his stomach where it coalesced with the stomach acid churning inside.

“Honor, son. This is for the honor of the regiment,” Taylor said, smiling and then looking embarrassingly up at the quarterdeck where Thomas had his eyes glued on the events below.

“To tell you the truth, Colonel, I don’t know how honorable it’s going to be when I shit my pants in front of all these boys. That is by far the largest nigg—, hell, that boy is the largest anything I ever saw.”

Taylor grimaced as he agreed and then gave Jenks a little shove forward. “Damn he is big,” Taylor mumbled to himself as he watched the corporal enter the valley of death.

Grandee stood rooted to the spot as his ears heard the curses of the prisoners and the stunted encouragement of the marines who stood around them with hatred spewing from their mouths. Grandee’s eyes were actually as wide as his opponent’s but for the obvious differences.

Colonel Thomas nodded his head as he looked down at the man he had chosen for this most difficult of tasks: to make the Rebels learn the simple fact that there were no slaves, no South and no North. There was the company of men on the three ships. And he wanted these ships not to be flying any particular flag over the next few weeks and possibly months. He needed one unit of Americans and one only. He had chosen the object of all hatred and frustration to make his point. The large man stepped to the center of the deck to prove men were indeed equal—if not in size, then in honor and bravery.

Taylor stepped up and stood between the two men. He saw the young marine lieutenant step through the crowd so he could see through the men. Jessy watched as the tall kid from Annapolis patted the mess steward on the back.

“Okay, gentlemen—and I use that term in loosest sense”—the men around him laughed—“let’s get to it,” Taylor finished as he snapped his hand at the deck and waved the two reluctant antagonists forward.

The war between North and South commenced once more as the three American warships approached Gibraltar.

*   *   *

Ollafson’s eyes kept returning to the artifact. As he explained how the naval ordnance men would lay explosives to assist in digging out the Ark if they found it, he kept losing his train of thought. As he looked up at the others in embarrasment, he apologized. However, Ollafson could see that the piece of petrified wood was occupying their minds as well. The professor intentionally covered the piece with another map and immediately felt better for doing so. Claire noticed this.

“The artifact never had this effect on us while we were ensconced inside of a laboratory,” she said as she stood from the table. A distant but loud cheer erupted from the main deck as Colonel Thomas continued to commit to the fiasco’s possible disastrous ending.

“Yes, for some reason it feels as though the artifact is slowly awakening the closer to our destination we get.”

“Come now, we’re being a bit overly dramatic here, are we not? It sounds as though you are quoting a god-awful penny dreadful,” McDonald said as his eyes were also on the map covering the ancient wood. “I think we had better concentrate on the possibility that if we do find what it is you are looking for, Professor, we may not have the ability to capitalize upon it. For instance, how in the world would we begin to get an artifact that size out of the Ottoman Empire without raising quite the fuss?”

“That particular job, my dear sir, has been delegated to our naval genius, Captain Jackson.”

“By the high-handed way in which you speak of him you would think that this man has magical powers of engineering.”

“Maybe not a magician, but a man who
is
known as a certified genius thinks he is something very special indeed. Mr. Ericsson believes in him, so therefore, we must have faith the man knows what he is talking about. According to Mr. Lincoln, we are being led by three very bright and distinctive men. Yes, they are having a hard time believing in what it is we seek, but they will seek it nonetheless because that was the order given them. Colonel Thomas, although not a believer in our cause, will do exactly as the president has asked, because that is what he does. Now, we have to discuss the route we must take to the glacier.”

The three settled in to examine the route leading to the summit of Ararat. As they did a sea breeze came unbidden through the open hatchway and blew off the map covering the artifact. They felt the ship beneath their feet shake momentarily as if the keel had dragged along the bottom. They exchanged glances as the sun vanished behind a rain-laden cloud. As the shadows dimmed, something in the far corner moved. Three sets of eyes looked in that direction as the wind ceased. The artifact jumped underneath the partially covered wood. The map lifted and then settled, still covering a corner of the petrified wood. None of the Angelic writing was exposed. Then the map started smoldering. The written words seemed to be heating up, but before the three scholars turned back, the smoke had drifted away and the map had settled. The sun broke through the rain cloud once more and the shadows returned, only this time they seemed deeper and darker than before.

*   *   *

Corporal Jenks heard the cheers of the Confederate prisoners as they encouraged him forward. Grandee meekly took a tentative step toward the center of the main deck and waited. His eyes roamed toward the colonel, who was looking down upon them. He again nodded his head. Grandee took the final two steps toward the frightened fighter from the south.

“That is one big son of a bitch,” Taylor said to the marine officer, Parnell.

“Yes, I would most assuredly say your man is quite overmatched,” Parnell said, hoping beyond hope that the navy mess steward could do the job he was tasked to do. Grandee was not a marine, so Parnell had his doubts. He had volunteered his marines for this stunt, but Thomas had insisted it be Grandee.

Grandee faced down Jenks. The bearded Confederate was wide-eyed as he watched the giant black man raise his equally giant hand. He was shocked when he realized the black man was offering his hand in sportsmanship. With the whites of his eyes showing Jenks turned toward Taylor, who nodded that yes, he should shake the man’s hand. When he nodded he raised his brows with a wry smile. Jenks knew his next step.

He took the offered hand and then suddenly pulled the large man forward. The steward’s massive bulk leaned in at the same time Jenks hit the giant in the mouth with his left hand. The blow actually staggered Grandee momentarily as the surprise attack caught him unawares. He was shocked. Another blow came in and landed on his right cheek, stunning the mess steward. A loud cheer went up from the circling Confederate prisoners.