Love and War

'There was nothing illegal in that letter.'

'Oh, that is for the censor to determine. The censor is a chum of mine. Some weeks ago, I asked him to watch for any letter you might write. I'm afraid none will ever gain his approval for mailing. Your dear wife will just have to go on suffering and grieving  —' he winked, smiling '— thinking you dead in a heathen's grave.'

'The rules —'

Vesey's hand flew to the back of Billy's head; twisted in his long, matted hair. 'I told you — I told you,' he whispered. 'There are no rules here except mine. I hope your wife's grief grows unsupportable. I hope she develops a violent aching in her female parts. A desire so fierce, so insistent —'

He leaned closer, face huge, china-blue eyes gleeful.

'— she'll be driven to fornicate madly to relieve it. Maybe she'll fornicate with some white tramp. Maybe she'll pick a buck nigger.'

Billy was shaking, trying to hold back, not see the looming face or hear the whispering.

'Just imagine one of those big coons — your equals, aren't they? Old Abe says they are. Think of him humping and sliding all over your wife's white body. Pushing his blackness into her tender orifice so hard she bleeds. Think of that along with what you'd like to say in all those letters you'll never get past these walls, you heathen, godless —'

With a cry, Billy struck. When three other guards with lanterns rushed in to pull him off, he had Vesey on the floor, pounding his head with both hands. One of the guards hauled Billy up by his jacket. A second kicked him in the crotch, twice. Coughing, he pitched sideways and crumpled. The third guard said, 'You all are in for it now, Yank.'

92

Although light remained in the west, Cooper saw only darkness and winter stars out toward the Atlantic. Would he see the sight again? His daughter? Judith? The moment the questions came, he drove them out as unworthy sentimentalities.

Lucius Chickering had come down to the dock along with Alexander, the machinist. The young man shook Cooper's hand. 'Best of luck, sir. We'll be waiting for your return.'

With a brief nod, Cooper glanced at the small crowd of soldiers who had gotten wind of the test and gathered to observe it. Mingled with them were a few villagers from Mount Pleasant. One stared at Cooper in a manner that could only be characterized as pitying.

Alexander went down through Hunley's forward hatch. Once Cooper had secured Bory's permission for the test, the machinist had insisted on taking part. It was his right, he said; it was his submersible.

Stepping from the pier to the hull, Cooper bent over the hatch. 'Ready for me to come down, George?'

'Ready, Mr. Main,' Lieutenant Dixon replied in his customary drawl. Cooper lifted a long leg over the coaming with its quartet of small, round windows set ninety degrees apart. He lowered himself into the dark interior while a crewman reached up to close the rear hatch with a clang, screwing it down tight. He squeezed past Dixon, who remained at the instruments: a mercury depth gauge and a compass for steering underwater. In a niche between these, in a cup, stood the lighted candle that measured the air supply and provided the sole illumination.

Cooper positioned himself slightly behind and to the side of the skipper, bending and sliding his rear onto a small iron seat attached to the hull. The six crewmen occupied similar seats, three on either side of the fore-to-aft shaft that had been cast with sections offset in the shape of broad, shallow U's. The crewmen grasped these to turn the shaft and propel the submersible at its maximum speed of four knots.

'Mr. Main,' said Dixon, 'would you be so good as to explain the test procedures to our crew?' As he spoke, he tested two handles. One operated the rudder attached to the propeller housing; the other controlled the angle of port and starboard diving planes.

'Simple enough,' Cooper said. His back already ached from bending to the curve of the hull. 'Tonight we will not use that candle as the sole determiner of how long this vessel can stay underwater. We shall use you gentlemen. We shall remain submerged an hour — an hour and a half —' some apprehensive murmuring at that '— perhaps more. We will not surface until the first man reaches his limit and announces that he can't continue to function without fresh air. Each man must find that limit for himself, being neither too confident of his own powers of endurance nor too quick to surrender to discomfort.'

The final words bore a clear note of scorn, causing Dixon to react. But he was facing the instruments; Cooper didn't see the frown.

'When the first man calls out one word — up — that will be our signal to empty the tanks and rise to the surface. Any questions?'

'I just hope we can come up,' one man declared with a nervous laugh. 'Some of the sojers say this fish ought to be named Jonah 'stead of Hunley.'

'Belay that kind of talk,' Dixon said as he climbed the short ladder and poked his head out the forward hatch. From his cramped position, Cooper could glimpse a small section of the hatch opening: an oval of sky decorated with faint stars.

'Cast off the bow and stern lines.'

Dockhands ran noisily to obey Dixon's order. Cooper could feel Hunley float free all at once. Dixon climbed down again and addressed the mate.

'Airbox shaft open, Mr. Fawkes?'

'Open, sir.'

'Stand by to reverse crank. Half speed.'

'Half speed — crank,' the mate repeated. Grunting, the crewmen began to revolve the shaft.

It was awkward work, but Dixon had drilled the men well and developed smooth timing. The candle flickered. Water lapped the hull with a queer hollow sound.

Again Dixon went up the ladder, calling down commands to the mate, who had taken the rudder. As soon as they backed from the dock, they reversed direction and picked up speed. Sweat trickled on Cooper's chin. He felt entombed, wished he were anywhere but here. He fought rising panic.

Still with his head in the open, Dixon looked all around, three hundred and sixty degrees, then came down, reached overhead and secured the hatch.

'Stand by to submerge.'

Cooper's heart was tripping so fast his chest hurt. He felt a keen respect for these men who had volunteered for this duty and some sense of the agony of those who had perished in the earlier dives. Then he chided himself. He was indulging in sentimentalities again.

'Close airbox shaft.'

'Airbox shaft closed,' the mate sang out.

'Opening bow tank seacock.'

Cooper heard the gurgle and rush of water. The hull swayed and dipped. He grasped a stanchion mounted above him as Hunley's bow tilted down. He thought of Judith, Marie-Louise. He couldn't help it. They did call this the Peripatetic Coffin, after all.

She settled to the bottom with a shiver and a soft thump. The men relaxed against the hull or leaned on the drive shaft. One fellow said the hardest half of the voyage was over. No one laughed.

Dixon studied the mercury tube in the depth gauge. Cooper fought sudden, terrifying fantasies. Someone tightening a metal band around his head. Someone locking him in a lightless closet whose door had no inside knob —

Alexander patted his waistcoat. 'Any of you gents have a time­piece? In the excitement, seems I forgot mine altogether.'

'I do.' Cooper fumbled for the slim gold watch he always carried. He snapped back the lid. 'Ten past seven.' The flame of the candle stood straight. Wax ran down to form tiny mountain chains on the sides.