Blockade Runner (4 page)

The next morning Jeff accosted his father at daybreak. “Captain, can I come in?” He remembered to use his father’s military title.

“Well, come on.”

Jeff walked into the tent to see his father shaving.

“What are you doing here this early, Jeff?”

“I talked to Captain Bier last night,” he said carefully. He had thought this all out, and his eyes were gleaming. “He says he could use a cabin boy on his next voyage to Bermuda. I’d like to go with him.”

“Why, you can’t do that! You’re in the army!”

“I know, but there’s nothing to do right now,” Jeff said plaintively. “You know we’re not going anywhere for the next two weeks—not till the replacements get here and get trained. We’d be back long before then, Captain Bier said. We’re just going to the Bahamas and right back.”

Captain Majors brought the gleaming razor down over one cheek, wiped the lather on a cloth on his free arm, then turned to stare at Jeff. “I never heard of such a thing—a soldier going off on a vacation!”

“But it’s for the Confederacy, Pa. You know how much good the blockade runners do.”

“You’re right there. If it weren’t for them, we’d just about starve to death. We sure wouldn’t have
any gunpowder.” He continued to stare at his son. “You’d really like to go?”

“Pa, it would be so interesting—and he’d pay me too. I could send some money back to the Carters to take care of Esther.”

Jeff knew this was a sore spot with his father. The captain’s pay was very low, and it was in Confederate money. He was deeply grateful to the Carters for keeping Esther, but for a long time he had wanted to do something to defray their expenses.

“You’d like to do that, would you, Jeff?” he repeated.

“Yes, and we could send all the money back to Kentucky. It would pay for Esther’s clothes and food and—why, everything, Pa.” Excited, he again forgot to use his father’s military title. “Can I go, Pa? Would it be all right?”

“Well, I’ll think on it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jeff knew better than to pressure his father, but somehow he thought it would happen.

Later that morning, his father stopped by where Jeff was cleaning his boots and said, “Jeff, I think it might be all right for you to make that trip. It would help financially, and it would be good for the cause too.”

Jeff was overjoyed and went at once to Captain Bier’s tent. “Captain, my father says I can go with you.”

“Why, that’s fine, Jeff. We’ll make a sailor out of you—a short-term one. Wilmington,
Greyhound
, here we come!” He grinned at the boy, but then said, “People have been known to get hurt on these expeditions, but you’re not afraid of that?”

“No, sir. It won’t be as dangerous as being on a battlefield, and it’ll be a lot more fun.”

Captain Bier rubbed his chin. “Sometimes it’s fun—and sometimes not so much fun. In any case, get your things together, and I’ll show you what it’s like to be a sailor.”

L
eah got out of the buggy and held the horses while Uncle Silas descended to the street. He held on very carefully, for he was still frail and not completely recovered from his long sickness. However, he was well enough to get out and had insisted on making a visit to the
Richmond Examiner
. He and Mr. John Pollard had been friends for years, and the two had not seen each other in some time.

As soon as Uncle Silas was safely out of the buggy, Leah wrapped the lines firmly, then leaped to the ground. She patted the mare’s silky nose, saying, “There, Susie, I’ll bring you something good before we go back home.” Then she joined Uncle Silas and held his arm as they entered the
Examiner
office.

“I’ll bet Mr. Pollard will be glad to see you, Uncle Silas.”

“Yes, I’ve missed some of those checker games and arguments with him about his politics.”

Uncle Silas was her father’s uncle. He had grown so ill that Leah and her sister Sarah had come to Richmond to care for him.

Now as they entered the newspaper office, Mr. Pollard instantly came to greet them, wearing an apron that had once been white but was now almost completely covered with ink smears. He had a strange hat shading his eyes and several pens stuck in the pocket of the apron.

“Well, look who’s here!” he said happily. “Silas Carter!” He shook Mr. Carter’s hand enthusiastically. “Come right on back here and sit down. I was about ready to send out for some tea. We can take a break while I get your politics straightened out.”

“You’ve been twenty-five years trying to do that.” Uncle Silas smiled. He had white hair and beard and was still rather pale. He was, however, much healthier than he had been before Leah had come to nurse him.

“I’ll go get the tea, Mr. Pollard,” Leah said quickly. “You and Uncle Silas can talk.”

She left the two men arguing loudly and happily over the Jefferson Davis administration. Going next door, she requested a pot of tea.

The proprietor, a tall slender woman with red hair, covered it with a cloth. “I fixed it just like Mr. Pollard likes it,” she said, “and there’s plenty for you and your uncle too. And I made those cakes just this morning.”

Leah smiled. “They smell very good. I’ll tell Uncle Silas you asked about him,” she promised.

She returned to the office of the
Examiner
, and for the next hour she kept the two men liberally supplied with tea and cakes while they played checkers, loudly slamming the board victoriously or groaning in tragic voices.

“You two have more fun playing checkers than anybody I know.” Leah always enjoyed it when her uncle had a good time. She knew he got lonely for his friends.

“That’s because he’s learned to beat me once in a while.” Uncle Silas grinned. “When we first started playing I think we played five years before he won a game.”

“That’s not true!” Mr. Pollard exclaimed. “I think your memory’s failing you, Silas!”

At that moment a clerk stuck his head in, his face smeared with ink. “We’re out of paper again, Mr. Pollard. What’re we going to do? Got to have paper!”

Pollard gritted his teeth. “Use those rolls of wallpaper,” he said. “That’s all we’ve got. And if that runs out, I guess we can use
old
wallpaper—tear it off the walls!”

When the clerk left, Silas stared at the editor. “Wallpaper?” he said. “You’re printing a newspaper on
wallpaper?”

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get paper, Silas. Just like everything else, it’s in short supply. Getting harder and harder to make ends meet!”

His words seemed to cast a pall over the room, and Silas examined his friend’s face curiously. “Looks like we’re running out of about everything.”

“Everything is about right! Can’t buy the necessities of life anymore—and some of the junk those blockade runners bring back isn’t worth bringing back.”

“What kind of things would that be? I thought we needed everything,” Leah asked.

“Captain Simms of the
Victory
brought back six cases of coffin nails. Coffin nails!” Mr. Pollard exclaimed. “Here we are needing quinine and medicine and food and gunpowder, and he brings back coffin nails!”

“Well,” Uncle Silas said mildly, “I suppose there’s a need for such things. After all, there’s been enough coffins made around here.” There was sadness in his voice. He shook it off. “How’s your wife? I’m anxious to see her.”

“Helen is not well.” A frown came to Pollard’s face. “It was a sudden thing. As a matter of fact, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have to leave her at home in order to publish this paper, and she’s really not well enough to be left alone.”

Silas said, “Why, you should have called on me, John.”

“You? You’re not a nurse.”

“No, I’m not—but Leah here is.” He smiled fondly at his great-niece. “I can testify to what a good nurse she is. Why, I had one foot in the grave practically when she and her sister Sarah came down from Kentucky.” He related the story of how the two girls had routed the cantankerous woman housekeeper who was plaguing his life. “Ran her out of the house the day they got here.” Silas grinned proudly. “I’ve been waited on hand and foot ever since.”

“Well, I’d hate to see you lose your nurse, Silas.” Mr. Pollard rubbed his chin thoughtfully and put his eyes on Leah. “But if you could spare this young lady for just a few days, it would take a load off my mind. As a matter of fact—” he broke off as if considering something deep in his mind “—I’ve got to make a business trip.” He looked straight at Leah, and a thought passed between them.

He’s going on that trip with Belle Boyd,
Leah thought,
and he hates to leave his wife
.

At once she said, “Why, Mr. Pollard, I’d be happy to stay with Mrs. Pollard. Uncle Silas is able to take care of himself for the most part. Would it be for long?”

“Well, I’m hoping she’ll be up and around in two or three days, but it might be as long as a week—or even two.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Silas put up his hand. “You still got that big old house out on the edge of town, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Well, if Mrs. Pollard could put up with me in the house, Leah and I could both stay there. That way—” he grinned “—she could take care of two patients instead of one.”

“An excellent idea! That would certainly answer.” Mr. Pollard was beaming then, and relief came into his face. “Would that be all right with you, Miss Leah?”

“Oh, yes. I’d be happy to do what I can, Mr. Pollard.”

They spent some time talking about the arrangements. In the end, Leah and Uncle Silas picked up some clothes, Mr. Pollard got into his buggy, and they followed him to his house. It was a big frame dwelling with four bedrooms. The Pollards’ two children were away at school, so there was no problem having a place to stay.

Mrs. Pollard, who was in bed, looked very feeble.

“Now, my dear, you’re going to be all right,” her husband said. “I brought you a fine nurse. You remember Miss Leah Carter from the ball at the Driscolls’.”

Mrs. Pollard managed a faint smile. “Oh, I couldn’t put you to all that trouble.”

“Why, it’s no trouble at all,” Leah said quickly. “I’ll be glad to stay with you, Mrs. Pollard.”

“Yes, and she knows how to feed an invalid too.” Silas smiled. “All kinds of soups and salads and—why, we’ll have you out of that bed by the time your husband gets back, Helen!”

Mr. Pollard got them settled quickly, and Leah got acquainted with the kitchen.

At noon Mr. Pollard came to say good-bye. “You saved my life, Leah,” he said gratefully. “I’ll have to make this up to you somehow.”

He said nothing of his trip, but Leah thought she knew what was on his mind. “You just go ahead and don’t worry a bit about Mrs. Pollard,” Leah said, smiling. “I’ll see that she’s well taken care of.”

Leah was sleeping soundly when she heard the sound of a horse running at full speed. Sometimes there was traffic on the roads leading into Richmond as soldiers moved by. At times even caissons and guns rumbled past, but this time the galloping horse stopped just outside the house. Instantly she heard footsteps on the front porch and a hard banging on the front door.

“Who could that be?” she muttered. Throwing on a robe, she went to the door. “Who is it?”

“I’ve got a message for Mrs. Pollard.”

Leah hesitated for a moment, then opened the door slightly. “Mr. Pollard’s not here.”

“I know that!” The man was wearing dusty clothes and had a hat pulled down over his eyes. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out an envelope and thrust it at Leah. “There! I had to ride hard to get here. Will you see that Mrs. Pollard gets it at once?”

“Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Thank you, Miss.” The man turned abruptly, jumped off the porch, then leaped on his horse and rode off into the darkness.

Leah stood holding the envelope, wondering what to do. She closed and bolted the door, then walked down the hall thinking,
She really—if she’s
sleeping, I hate to disturb her
. But as she quietly opened Mrs. Pollard’s door, Leah saw that she was awake.

Stepping inside the bedroom, she said, “Did the rider wake you?”

“Yes. What is it, Leah?”

“It’s a message. The man didn’t say his name.” Moving over to the bed she handed the envelope to Mrs. Pollard, who struggled to sit up.

“Would you hand me my glasses, please, Leah?” Mrs. Pollard placed the glasses on her nose and opened the envelope. She read the message silently, then Leah saw her hand begin to tremble.

“What is it, Mrs. Pollard? Is something wrong with your husband?”

“No, but there could be if something isn’t done.” She was very nervous and said, “I’ve got to get out of bed.”

“Why, you’re too sick to do that! Just tell me. What is it you want done?”

Mrs. Pollard hesitated. “I don’t know if I should tell you. I’m not supposed to—”

Instantly Leah understood that the problem had to do with Mr. Pollard’s trip on the blockade runner. “I know about Mr. Pollard’s trip. I haven’t said anything.”

“Oh, you do!” There was relief in Mrs. Pollard’s face. “Then you’ve got to help me, Leah. Read this!”

Leah took the note and looked at the few scrawled lines.

Leah looked at Mrs. Pollard and exclaimed, “Why, this is awful! Your husband will be captured—and Belle Boyd too.”

“We’ve got to get a message to him. Captain Bier has to know about this—and my husband too.”

“Is there anyone we can send?”

“I don’t know.” Mrs. Pollard seemed confused. She had taken some medicine earlier, and perhaps it had made her thoughts cloudy. Her hands trembled as she ran them across her hair. “Oh, my poor husband—he could wind up in a penitentiary for the rest of the war—and poor Belle, as well!”

Instantly the answer came to Leah.
“I
can take this message to your husband!”

“But it’s all the way to Wilmington, North Carolina!”

“A train runs there,” Leah reminded her. Mr. Pollard had told her this. “All I have to do is get on the train, ride it to Wilmington, find the ship, and give the message to your husband. Then I can come right back.”