Still, Wake had to admire and respect the men who planned and actually built this edifice of war in the middle of a tropical sea. The efforts and expenses made were unparalleled. But there was an ugly side to the fortress as well. Almost two hundred army prisoners were held here, Union Army prisoners who had committed some of the worst military offenses known. Fortress Jefferson was so notorious in the army, Wake had heard from an engineer captain at the island, that soldiers under sentence of death could have it commuted to hard labor at Jefferson as it was considered the same. The labor battalion worked on the never ending project of improving the fortress. They lived in stifling cells under the walls and eked out their lives toiling in the brutal sun under the eyes of a garrison that was under a similar, but shorter sentence. Periodically the regiment on garrison duty would be replaced by another, so that each only served six or eight months at Jefferson. But the prisoners never left.
Fortunately, Wake had the freedom to leave. As the St. James ghosted away from the immense brown brick walls that rose out of the bright green waters, the crew of the schooner could see the soldiers of the garrison, and a few of the prisoners, watching them sail quietly away. It was the same every time. The men of the fortress always stopped their work and stared at the schooner. It was always eerie.
It took two days to cover the distance eastward to the Marquesas. The wind was light and from varying directions the whole way. Twice they anchored when the wind died and the current started to sweep them southward. By the time the St. James anchored off the westernmost island of the group, the crew of the schooner had thoroughly cursed the 52nd New Jersey Artillery, their colonel, and their deserters.
The Marquesas Islands were a uniquely formed group. Unlike the Keys of Florida, which stretched out westward in a string of islets for one hundred fifty miles, the Marquesas were a circle of islands around a central shallow lagoon. The lagoon averaged only about a fathom or less deep, with brown and green grasses covering most of the bottom. Deeper, smooth-bottomed swash channels snaked their way in varying shades of blue all over the lagoon, giving a contrast to the colors of the grassy shoals. When viewed in conjunction with the thin, white sand beaches backed by the tumble of dark green mangrove jungle, the whole effect on a brightly sunny day was one of a dazzling spectrum of colors.
In addition to the beautiful colors, the Marquesas had some of the most fantastic water Wake had ever seen. In fact, offshore from the islands it appeared that there was no water there at all, for the schooner was apparently sliding through the air over a perfectly seen bottom ten feet down. The shadows from the moving ship and her sails covered the sand and coral below like the shade of a large bird gliding over a meadow. The brilliant creatures of this intriguing world would scamper or flit away from the shadow as it approached them, providing an endless source of fascination for the crew, most of whom had never served in the tropics before. As wonderful as it all was, it was also disconcerting, for the depth perception of most of the men was thrown out of scale upon first seeing this splendor. Many times they yelled for the helmsman to head up and avoid a coral head, only to find they were deceived by the transparency of the liquid underneath them when the suspect reef would pass mockingly beneath the warship.
Wake knew his men were exhausted from the humid heat and the exertion of working on the baking deck. A soon as the anchor was down and holding, he told Rork to let them swim for a few minutes before taking the ship’s boat through the islands to search for the soldiers. The grateful sailors immediately stripped down, jumped overboard, and were transformed into energetic boys exploring the amazing world below them in the startlingly clear waters. Their shouts and splashes made Rork and Wake smile when the two glanced at each other.
“Well, Captain, I’d venture a nice swim will do the lads good before their row today.” Rork’s thick Wexford Irish accent flavored the words.
“Yes, I do believe it’s a good tonic for the men in this heat. The soldiers will still be there an hour from now, if they’re alive.”
“I agree with ya, sir. Nary a one could be breathin’ after that journey, I’m thinkin’, sir. Hell of a row from the Tortugas. ’Specially for farm boyos not used to this heat. This ol’ Irishman ain’t used to it neither, sir!”
“Give the men another twenty minutes, then send off a boat’s crew. Have them row all the way around the islands on this side of the group, we’ll search the other side tomorrow. Check anything that looks odd. If those soldiers are here, they’ll be needing help by now.”
“Aye, sir. I don’t much think they’re here though, sir. Me thinks the poor beggars are most likely in the belly of some sharks somewhere.”
“Probably you are right, Rork, but we’ve got to confirm that they’re not here.
