Love and War

cabin, but she's usually stowed full of cut nails, things like that.'

'Nails?' Cooper repeated, astonished.

'Sure. They sold at four dollars a keg right after the war started. Then one of the owners of this ship and a few other gentlemen cornered the import market, and now they fetch ten.' He grinned, but Cooper's eyes had narrowed with dislike.

'Tell me, Mr. —'

'Soapes. Like the stuff you wash with, but add an e.'

'Where's your home, Mr. Soapes?'

'Port of Fernandina. That's in Florida.'

'I know where it is. You're a Southerner, then?'

'Yes, sir, same as you and Captain Ballantyne. You said your name's Main?' Cooper nodded. 'Any relation to the Mains of South Carolina?'

'I am a member of that family. Why do you ask?'

'Oh, no special reason. Just heard of it, that's all.'

Mr. Soapes was lying; Cooper felt certain of it but couldn't guess the reason. Nervous now, the mate shouted at a stevedore teetering down the gangway with a bale balanced on his bare back. 'Any of you niggers drop cotton in the water, you'll starve till you pay for it. Sixty cents a pound. Market price.'

Cooper cleared his throat. 'Tell me, Mr. Soapes, what cargo will you be taking to Wilmington?'

'Oh, you know, the usual.'

'But I don't know. What is the usual?'

Soapes scratched his stomach and looked everywhere but at Cooper. 'Sherry wine. Havana cigars. Believe we have a consignment of cheeses this time. Then there's tea and tinned meats and plenty of coffee —' As he recited the list, his voice grew fainter and Cooper's cheeks redder. 'We've some bay rum — oh, yes, and some London-made bonnet frames.'

'When the Confederacy is desperate for war materiel, you're bringing in luxuries?'

'We carry what's profitable, sir.' After that retort, the mate's courage wilted. 'Anyway, I'm not the supercargo. The captain handles that job. Speak to him.'

'I shall, believe me.'

'He won't be back from the whorehouse till morning.'

Cooper felt like punching Soapes. He had said whorehouse only because he was embarrassed and wanted to strike back by embarrassing Judah.

The boy caught on and grinned. 'My pa takes me to those places all the time. Maybe we'll meet him.'

Cooper boxed his son's ear. The mate looked stupefied until he realized he was being made fun of. Then he grew as red as Cooper, who marched his son toward the gangway, unamused.

Later that day, Cooper called on J. B. Lafitte, local agent of Fraser, Trenholm. He introduced himself and inquired about Captain William Ballantyne of Fernandina. He learned a good deal.

Ballantyne, a native of Florida, had a reputation as a competent master, though he wasn't a popular one; he drove his crewmen hard. In the past year, Lafitte said, Ballantyne had also become a rich master. In addition to his captain's pay — the customary five thousand, which he demanded in U.S. dollars and banked in Bermuda — Ballantyne conducted some personal speculation on every voyage.

Ballantyne's vessel made only eleven knots at her best — dangerously slow in view of where she sailed. But she hadn't been built for the trade, only refitted, at Bowdler, Chaffer and Company, a Merseyside yard Cooper knew well. Lafitte said Water Witch was owned by a consortium of Southerners, a fact no one took trouble to conceal, but the names of the individual owners had never been publicized so far as he knew.

Thus Cooper developed a strong dislike of the ship's captain and owners before he returned next morning. Directed below-decks, he was overwhelmed by the smell of cured meat. Ballantyne's cabin in the stern reeked of tobacco; small crates filled every spare corner. The crates bore Spanish labels, with the word Habana prominent.

'Cigars,' Ballantyne said in an offhand way, noticing his visitor's curiosity. 'My private venture this trip. Be seated on that stool, and I'll be with you momentarily. I'm just finishing our manifest. It shows us bound for the Bermudas. We never sail anywhere but the port of St. George, or this one.'

He beamed like a cherub. William Ballantyne was a moon­faced man with little hair left, except in his ears. He had spectacles and a small paunch and a grating accent that sounded more like the Appalachians than the deep South.

But the need to reach Richmond took precedence over Cooper's conscience; at least it did until he worked out details of the passage. Ballantyne had a fawning manner and an unctuous smile. Cooper silently characterized both as false.

'Well, then, that's done,' Ballantyne said at the conclusion of the negotiations. 'I'm sorry I wasn't here when you called yesterday. Mr. Soapes told me you have some, uh, quibbles about our cargo.'

'Since you raise the subject, I do.'

Ballantyne kept grinning but now with a dash of nastiness. 'I raised it, sir, because I guessed you would.'

'I wouldn't call them quibbles, Captain. They are serious moral objections. Why does this vessel carry nothing but luxury goods?'

'Why, sir, because the owners desire it. Because that's what turns the coin, don't you know?' He brushed his fingertips with his thumb, feeling invisible metal.

'Do you mean to tell me you can make a profit carrying cured meat?'

'Yes indeed, sir. Coming out, we dropped some of our cotton at St. George and in that space put a supply of Bermuda bacon. I think it's to be transshipped to the gulf for the armies in the West, but I wouldn't swear. All I know is, yesterday I sold it to an officer of the Confederate Quartermaster Corps' — beaming now — 'for three times what it cost me in Bermuda. It's the finest meat available from New York State. The farmers up there would rather sell to our side than their own. Make a lot more that way.' He rubbed thumb against fingers again.

Livid, Cooper said, 'You're a damned scoundrel, Ballantyne. Men and boys are dying for want of guns and ammunition, and you carry bacon, cigars, bonnet frames.'

'Listen here. I told you I carry what I'm instructed to carry. Plus a little something extra to secure my old age.' The smile cracked, showing the creature behind it. 'I'm not educated or well off like you, sir. I grew up in the North Carolina mountains. My people were ignorant. I have no schooling except aboard ship — no trade but this — and I must make of it what I can. Besides' — the ingratiating grin slipped back in place — 'I don't know why you rail so. This kind of trade's common. Everybody's doing it.'

'No, Captain, your own lack of scruples and patriotism are not universal. Not by any means.'

Ballantyne's smile vanished. 'I don't have to give you passage, you know.'

'I think you do. Unless you wish governmental attention directed to the affairs of this vessel. It can be arranged.'

Ballantyne rattled the papers in his hand. For the first time, his voice showed unsteadiness. 'You try to sink me and you'll be sinking someone near and dear.'

'What the hell does that mean?'

'Mr. Soapes said you hailed from South Carolina. So does one of our owners, whose middle name is the same as your last one. She has a twenty percent equity in Water Witch and a brother in the Navy Department.'

The harbor water lapped the hull. Cooper could scarcely swallow, let alone speak. Finally: 'What are you saying?'

'Come on, sir — don't pretend you don't know. One of the owners is a lady named Huntoon — Mrs. Ashton Main Huntoon of Richmond and the Palmetto State. Ain't — isn't she a relative?'

Seeing Cooper's sickened expression, he grinned. 'Thought so. Added up the two and two after I spoke with Mr. Soapes. You've booked passage on a family vessel, Mr. Main.'