The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (36 page)

“We are expecting heavy fog tonight. They know we’re here, but they don’t have to know when we enter the Med. We should be in Constantinople before they can muster their trailing vessels, whether that be British or French. I suspect we have both hiding in our wakes.”

“Very good. The more time you can give us, the more this little ruse is apt to work.”

“Before we adjourn the meeting, Captain Faraday has something he wishes to share.”

All eyes went to Faraday. The officer was even more youthful than his commander. The boy stood and faced Thomas.

“At 1310 hours this afternoon, our lookouts aboard the
Chesapeake
observed a signal light, most likely a mirror communication, emanating from the decks of
Yorktown
. The message sent was simple:
‘Proceeding through Pillars, destination—Constantinople.’
Of course, this message was not flashed to us, or the
Carpenter
. It was flashed to the French warship a mile astern of us.”

“What does this mean?” Ollafson asked as he realized they might have a person or persons onboard who meant to stop them from getting to their destination.

“It means that the security your great leader was hoping for has been compromised.” Every face turned to Taylor, who was smirking and smoking his cigar.

“The message clearly stated that we would be moving through the Pillars of Hercules tonight. The Strait of Gibraltar is tight. If they want, all they have to do is string a line of ships across the strait and we won’t be able to transit. Illegal, but at this point, who would care? We would have to wait and return home to even file an official protest,” Jackson said as he looked worriedly at Thomas. “Unless, of course, you order us to open the strait by force, which would end the mission as assuredly as if we sank on the way here.”

“No, but we can and will take care of the situation with our signalman. Sergeant Major Dugan, if you would, please.”

They saw Dugan remove the Colt revolver from its holster once more and then he moved quickly to the side of the historian, Cromwell. He smiled as he reached into the man’s inside coat pocket and removed a small mirror.

“You really should have chucked this into the sea after you used it,” Dugan said as he threw the mirror onto the tabletop, where it broke into four pieces.

Cromwell looked ashen. When he spoke, the first traces of his true language shone through for the briefest of moments.

“I am to be condemned for carrying a mirror?”

Thomas smiled for the first time in hours. “Not at all, Mr. Renaud. You’ll be convicted of being the French spy you are, not because of your small mirror.”

Everyone at the table was flabbergasted. The man calling himself Cromwell stood suddenly and started to turn for the stairwell but was stopped by the pointed pistol of Dugan.

“You think very little of our own military intelligence, Mr. Renaud, or if you prefer, Mr. Cromwell. We knew who you were an hour after you reported to Professor Ollafson. The president’s man, Mr. Allan Pinkerton, is quite aware of those men and women in Washington who intend us harm. Since you started to run from this cabin you must have had an escape plan. I will assist you in that. Sergeant Major, is the boat ready?”

“It is indeed, Colonel Darlin’.”

“Escort our French friend here to the deck, please. Assist in his boarding.”

“You barbarians cannot do this,” Renaud said as Dugan took him by the arm.

Claire swallowed as she watched the French master spy being led by Dugan to the deck above. She then looked at Thomas who was staring straight at her. He finally broke eye contact and faced Jackson.

“Are you sure the French warship will pick him up?”

“Not at all sure,” Jackson said with a wry smile.

“Good.”

“Oh, that is precious. Can we all expect the same when and if we fail?” Taylor said as he smashed out the cigar in an ashtray.

“You bet, Colonel, because if we fail there will be no lifeboat to be placed into.” Jackson thought a moment and then faced Taylor. “We can’t execute him, sir. We are not at war. Although I admit that it would have been much simpler, it also would have spared my vessel a precious lifeboat.”

The cabin fell silent as they heard the Frenchman scream a mighty stream of epithets from the main deck as Dugan rushed him over the side, to the astonishment of every sailor manning his station. As the sailors, marines, and Reb prisoners saw Dugan smiling at the spy’s splashing as he swam toward the lone lifeboat awaiting him, they started doing their duties with a little more enthusiasm. If that was the way they were going to treat shirkers, they wanted no part in the disciplinary measures put forth by the crazed army colonel.

As the French spy pulled himself aboard the well-supplied whaleboat, he cursed the men watching him from the deck of the
Yorktown
. If he had his say, every one of them would be lying at the bottom of the sea very soon.

As he fumed, the three American warships, with the
Argo
in tow, made their way to the Strait of Gibraltar and the waiting Royal Navy of Her Royal Majesty, Victoria.

12

THE STRAIT OF GIBRALTAR

The fog had indeed closed in just as Captain Jackson had predicted. Thus far John Henry had to admit that the Swede John Ericsson’s choice of wunderkind had been a good one. The man was just too silent and contemplative for Thomas’s taste. Of course he also knew that his way of command was a far cry from the army’s more tempered version of how to lead men. Yes, he was positive that Jackson and the others thought him particularly strange also.

“Three bells sounding from astern,” came the call from the crow’s nest high above the main deck.

“Damn,” Jackson said as he turned to face the stern of the
Yorktown
. John Henry remained silent as he listened to the suddenly quiet night around them. The fog had deafened the night, and after the noise of the day it seemed eerily like a cemetery. “The frigates behind our formation weren’t fooled. They’re hot on our rudder. Three bells was the
Chesapeake
’s signal.”

“I suspect either the British or the French have recovered Mr. Renaud.”

Jackson spared John Henry a look that the colonel knew indicated his disapproval of John Henry’s methods.

“Well, I admit we would not have delayed them long. It was worth a try. If you’ll excuse me, I must keep a close eye out as we near the center of the strait.” Jackson bowed and then left.

“I am to assume that the blame for the French spy falls upon Professor Ollafson and myself?”

John Henry turned away from the stern. The fog was not allowing any inspection of the tail they had at any rate.

“Your assumption is correct, Miss.”

“Every time you call me Miss I turn in circles looking for my very much older sister. Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to call me Claire? Why be so formal? After all, you are accusing us of planting a French spy onboard the
Yorktown
, are you not?”

“Well, he was in your company upon boarding.” He halfheartedly smiled as he took in the striking redheaded historian. “I may be just an old and broken-down horse soldier in the United States Army, Miss Richelieu, but you don’t have to kick me in the head like a stubborn mule to allow me to smell a rat hiding somewhere onboard this ship.”

“Eloquently put, Colonel,” she said as she suddenly turned away but stopped short of leaving the quarterdeck. “I don’t know what has happened in your past to sour your way with people, Colonel Thomas, but I must say this: you are a horse’s ass of the first order.”

John Henry raised his brows and removed his hat as he watched Claire disappear into the fog-shrouded deck.

A dark form emerged from the fog near the very stern. It was Dugan, or his blurred image. He walked quickly past as if he were merely strolling in a park.

“Still have away with the women, I see,” he said as he placed his hands behind his back and continued toward his destination.

John Henry scowled as he lost sight of Dugan.

*   *   *

“You’ll have to excuse the colonel. He’s lost around women.” Dugan removed his cap and looked at the woman before him. “The loss of his wife has played with his mind some.” Dugan nodded as if Claire had spoken and then replaced his cap and started to move off.

“The trouble between Colonel Thomas and Colonel Taylor?”

Dugan stopped cold and then hesitated before turning to face her. He finally did and once more removed his cap.

“I don’t go talkin’ out of school, ma’am.”

“I know the two are brothers-in-law, so tell me what happened to make them despise each other so.”

“It’s not Colonel Thomas who does the despising, ma’am, it’s the Reb. He blames the colonel for the death of his sister, the colonel’s wife.”

“Tell me what happened,” Claire asked. Despite the fact that the president placed all his confidence in his friend, she knew absolutely nothing about the man outside of his army file.

Dugan looked around and only saw crewmen going about their above-deck duties. He leaned in close to Claire.

“The one and only time the colonel was ever fooled by Indians was the day his wife was killed at their small ranch near the Brazos River. He was off chasing Kiowa. Her brother, Colonel Taylor—this was before I knew him—was also in the regiment. You see, back then we were spread so thin in Indian Territory that the regiment was broken up into troops.” Dugan shook his head sadly as he remembered. “There just wasn’t enough men. They were both off chasing Kiowa in differing directions. They had both been bamboozled and led away from the small settlements that were their responsibility. It was a cold-blooded murder raid. They got six ranches. Butchered families, killed all the livestock. They even raided into several Comanche villages. Gray Dog’s family was lost on the same day. Yes indeed, ma’am, the Kiowa did a job that day.”

“And each man is blaming the other?”

“While both men made the same mistake and were lured out chasing nothing, the Kiowa took what was the best of both men, and Colonel Taylor cannot begin to forgive John Henry for the loss of his sister.” Dugan replaced his hat and took one step away and stopped. “The thing is, John Henry thinks the same way. He also cannot forgive
himself
.”

Claire watched as the sergeant major moved away and knew he felt the colonel’s pain. She just wished she could break through his hardened shell long enough to make him understand that they were facing far more than just legends on this voyage. They were facing what men and women used to believe the world over—that mankind was not calling the shots. This was God’s domain and she believed as Ollafson did, that God would brook no interference in protecting what was his. She had most assuredly lost her scientific way of looking at the quest.

*   *   *

The
Yorktown, Chesapeake,
and
Carpenter
with the
Argo
in tow made their way past the British stronghold of Gibraltar.

The fog was still present as the sun rose over the Mediterranean. Gibraltar was now miles distant off their stern. An hour before, the gentle sound of the three signal bells of
Chesapeake
had chimed, so Captain Jackson knew that thus far they had transited the strait without landlocked eyes falling upon them. Now it was full sail toward the Aegean and then, for the
Yorktown,
Constantinople. It would be up to the
Chesapeake
to make landfall through the Bosphorus Strait and then the Black Sea. The land expedition would not fully form until Colonel Thomas’s team made it to the slopes of Ararat.

Colonel Thomas soon joined Jackson on the quarterdeck and both watched as the Confederate prisoners slowly moved around the main deck. The mood was solemn, to say the least. Although they felt no love for the men that had been butchered in their cell, they still felt the loss of another three of their own. The mystery of their deaths had been placed on hold only because of the speculation and shipboard rumor that the French spy may have had something to do with it. Thus far neither Jackson, Thomas, nor even Colonel Taylor had denied the rumor. Murderous feelings had therefore been curtailed for the time being.

Fifteen minutes before, Sergeant Major Dugan had knocked on John Henry’s door to inform him of the makeshift burial at sea. He had been heavy into his journal that he kept for the president’s eyes only and had not noticed the stillness of the ship. He was usually tuned into the happenings around him, but since the horrible murders his mind had been racing as to the real culprit in the savage attack. Thomas was more concerned at the moment for Gray Dog. The boy was refusing to sit with others. Avoided men of all affiliation, either north or south, with the same degree of mistrust. John Henry particularly noted Gray Dog’s sudden fear of dark spaces. Both he and Jackson believed that Gray Dog had indeed seen who the killer was, and John Henry assured Jackson that his young Indian ward would come to him when he was ready to explain what he had seen in the brig.

John Henry watched as the three shrouded bodies were hoisted through the cargo hold at mid-deck. The bearers struggled as the marines and navy personnel watched. Thomas noticed that some men removed their hats while others watched with disinterest. Jessy was in the center and as John Henry watched, the Rebel colonel slowly removed something from his coat. It was a small Confederate flag. The stars and bars. It was only two feet by one and was hand-colored—with what, Thomas didn’t know. Jackson cleared his throat when the small flag was placed on the sailcloth-covered bodies. The two officers strained to hear what was being said in prayer, but John Henry knew the faith of Jessy had been tested to the limits and he had walked away with the firm belief that God could not exist. After the loss of his sister, his only living family, Jessy had turned away from religion. John Henry knew he had helped his brother-in-law with that fateful decision by failing to protect Mary.

Soon Taylor lifted the small flag and then the platform was tilted and the bodies slowly slid into the sea. Jackson’s brow furrowed as humming came to his ears through the thick fog. Then the tune was picked up by others and soon enough they were listening to “Dixie.” Soft, mournful, and not at all directed toward the three men just committed to the deep. To Jackson and John Henry it was the sad refrain of lost men. When the sound softly faded away he heard Taylor dismissing the men. The colonel walked to the quarterdeck and offered John Henry the refolded flag.