“Ol’ Hervey is doin’ right? We ain’t seen him in two year abouts. He was a landowner down Suwannee way an’ lived a might different than our part o’ the family. Always was a good man, though. Folks all ’round these parts knew ’im, but some talk poorly ’bout ’im now, ’cause he went off with the Yankees.”
“The folks that spoke badly of him aren’t doing so well now though, are they, John? This war is going to reach everywhere in Florida soon. We hear what the Confederate conscription and tax men do to you. It’s worse than when the navy comes to your places. This war is bleeding all of you from both sides. It’s time for it to end for you people now.”
Only four men were left standing near Newton, and all had dropped their guns. One of them walked up to Wake and put out his hand.
“Lieutenant Yankee, I guess y’all er right. It ain’t makin’ no difference for Florida for us ta stay here. This war is jus’ a draggin’ on an’ bleedin’ us down. It’s time. My family will go with ya.”
Wake tried to smile and look relaxed as he shook the man’s hand. The fisherman went on.
“My name’s Ramsey. Jake Ramsey. They said I was too old at first ta join up the Reb army, but now they’re getting’ so desperate the conscript man tol’ me I go next month. Gotta send so many and don’ got many left ta send.”
Ramsey turned to his friend and put a hand on the shotgun’s barrel, lowering it away from Wake’s face.
“John, got to for our families. You do too, an’ you know it. It’s over now for us.”
Newton’s body sagged as he let the gun drop to the ground and looked again at Wake, this time with sad eyes that betrayed the inner turmoil of a man who’s world would never be the same. Newton looked as if he would cry openly as he croaked out a quiet acquiescence.
“We’ll go with ya, sailorman. We’ll all go with ya.”
Making an effort not to show the release of tension in his body, Wake slowly exhaled as he felt the pistol barrel ease back away from under his arm. Rork’s other hand came up and rested on his shoulder. Newton’s hands were trembling when Wake reached out and shook one with his own.
“Thank you, Mr. Newton. Your uncle and his friends will be very glad to see you. Life for your family will be much better now. Why don’t you all go and tell your friends to get their things and meet back here at this spot in half an hour.”
Newton and the other men nodded their agreement and walked back to their log and thatch homes. No more angry voices came through the darkness, but words of confusion and despair could be heard as the men explained to their wives and families that they were going to have to leave with only what they could carry. Wake turned to his men.
“Well now, let’s all uncock our arms. I do not want anyone getting hurt through foolishness. You all did very well in a rather tense circumstance and I congratulate you. Now let’s have Rork and three men stay here to help the people back to the boats. We have room for all who want to go. Those that don’t should stay away. Any that get in the way of those leaving will be arrested. Young and I and the rest of this party will return to the dock. We will see you there in a few minutes, Rork.”
“Mary, Joseph and Jesus, sir! I never have seen such a thing as the thing I just did see. You had me more nervous than a trollop in the front pew o’ a Sunday mass, Captain. Thought for sure we all were dead, but most especially your sainted self, sir.”
“Well, Sean Rork, I must admit to being a little concerned myself there for a moment. Not only about the shotgun in front of me, but about a certain pistol from behind!”
One of the seamen walking next to Wake added his words with a chuckle.
“Captain, you’d a been more than concerned if you’d seen how it was a shakin’ in his hand!”
The sailors spoke with humorous relief as they recounted the events while walking back to the depot dock, except for Young, whose apoplectic state had not altered with the ending of the standoff. He stayed silent and staring as he was led by the arm along the path by a burly sailor who didn’t care about the foreigner’s former status.
Calling out the password “Michigan” as they came back through the picket lines, Wake examined the scene around the depot. Lanterns were casting a dim glow as men in dark blue loaded the last of the gray cotton bales and reddish brown turpentine barrels on the ships at the dock. Sullen prisoners from the ships were sitting on the ground under guard in the pole barn. Some of the pitiful refugees, crying children in tow, were already arriving at the depot, carrying a few bundles and boxes. The scene was one of purposeful energy, and all hands were engaged in accomplishing the many tasks needed to get the ships and people under way in time to have a high enough water level to cross the shoals and reefs outside the river.
One of the Floridians came up to Wake, followed by a disheveled woman and two dirty youngsters. The man looked distraught.
“Sir, we have a small punt boat. I need that boat. Can we take it away with us,
