“Captain, we got the Rebs. They’re cut up a bit from being uncooperative at first in marchin’ back here, but they’ll survive. They jes’ needed to have a little encouragement, not too much though, sir. I’ll wager they’ll be singin’ like birds for food in a hour. No one of ours is hurt. How’re our men from the beach party?”
Wake relayed the condition of the wounded and the need for medical assistance. Rork nodded his understanding of the situation then jerked his head up to the right and stared over Wake’s left shoulder.
“By the Saints above and all around us, Captain. Methinks help may be here!”
Wake spun around and saw a small craft under sail and oar approaching from the south. An older man standing by the tabernacled mast shouted out.
“Captain Wake, sir! Is that you?”
Wake didn’t recognize the boat or the man. He hoped they would be some sort of help—he had all the adversity he could handle just then. Several of the seamen standing on the beach watched the boat approach and had their muskets held in readiness. Rork stood next to Wake as the latter replied to the stranger.
“Yes, I am Captain Peter Wake of the United States Naval schooner St. James. Who are you and what is your business about here?”
“I am Hervey Newton of Useppa Island, sir. We heard the shooting and saw you had wounded through our long glass. With the wind dropping, we thought you would need assistance, Captain.”
Wake did not have his telescope with him on the beach, but he now started to recognize the voice and stature of the man in the boat. Hervey Newton was an old man in his seventies, father of one of the women refugees on the island whose husband was away at war with the refugee militia that was now called the 2nd U.S. Florida Cavalry. Wake had met him the year before at a gathering on the island when he had been supporting efforts to form the militia made up of pro-Union refugees on Useppa hiding out from the Confederates on the mainland. Newton was a trustworthy man who had fought in the Seminole wars in the 40s and 50s. He was too old to fight for his country anymore, but he was doing what he could to help with what he had available. The boat was only a hundred yards away and the sailors on the beach were making a commotion and pointing to the crew of the boat. They were women. They had sailed and rowed two miles to get there.
“Thank you, Mr. Newton. Yes, we can use your help. Come ashore, please.”
Newton nodded, turned, and relayed something to his female crew. The sail, limp from lack of wind, came down the mast and the oars came inboard as the vessel slid into the shallows off the beach. Two of the four women rowing jumped overboard and pulled the bow up as a couple of surprised seamen ran to help. Newton stepped off when the boat stopped and strode over to Wake and Rork.
“Captain, good to meet you again, sir. Did you get ’em all? We saw ’em traitorous vermin hide behind the Barras Islands as the Gem’s boats sailed by going south, but we couldn’t get to the sailors in time. Then the rascal Rebels came out and made for Boca Grande, and we thought they had made their ill-gotten profit since the Gem had left too. That’s when your welcome arrival put paid to their notions, Captain. Well done, sir!”
Newton looked over at the captured sloop piled with cotton bales on her deck and surveyed the situation ashore and afloat. He was excited and acting years younger than age. Wake liked the man and his spirit.
“It was no plan, Mr. Newton. Just luck that we saw them while sailing up the coast.”
“Luck, Captain Wake? Luck is not given, sir—it is made! And you made it today. We hear that that sloop is the last of Johnville’s vessels, and good riddance to all his kith and kin.
“Now, what about your wounded? Can we help? We have not much, but we can make them comfortable until Baxter can return with his surgeon. One of my women here is part Seminole and knows their medicine herb ways.”
Rork glanced quizzically at Wake. Newton’s women were approaching closely. Wake sighed.
“Mr. Newton, we’ll be very appreciative of any help you can give, sir. I have two badly wounded and one less so. All need help. Their wounds need to be cleaned and bandaged again, and they need to rest easy. Do you have anything for great pain, sir?” Wake went on to describe the wounds.
Newton’s expression was hardening as he heard the description. His reply started but was interrupted by a dark-haired woman in a faded brown smock who had walked up as Wake was talking.
“Yes, we can help. My name is Sofira Thomaston. I have earth medicines at Useppa that can help. Mr. Newton, we need to get those men back where we can tend them. We should do that now, sir.”
With that simple statement the woman reversed her steps and spoke quietly to the other ladies who waited twenty feet away, whose demeanors deferred to the Indian woman as their apparent leader. They all started to wade back out to their boat as Newton spoke to the astonished Wake and Rork.
“Sofira is half Seminole. She and her husband and baby arrived at Useppa six months ago. Her husband is a sergeant now with the refugee troops who’re up the river at Fort Myers. She knows herb medicine. She’ll take care of your men fine, Captain.”
Rork spoke first.
“A real Indian maiden, sir? I’ve heard o’ them but never thought I’d meet one in the person. She looks as like any other lass.”
Newton gave Rork a curious stare and spoke to him directly. There was no mistaking the message.
“She’s a good girl, sir. I knew her grandfather’s family before
