When it became apparent they wouldn’t find the Keys during the daytime, Wake ordered the ship be tacked on and off through the night, staying well away from the shallow coast. Memories of Deadman’s Bay and its reefs and shoals demanded caution.
On the fourth day they continued east as the sun finally emerged, allowing the lookouts to see almost six miles. At the end of the forenoon watch they saw a smudge of land on the horizon, but it took until the end of the first dogwatch to get close enough to tell the land was not the Cedar Keys but the Sweetwater Keys, south of the Withlacoochee River. There was nothing for it but to head back out to sea in the ensuing darkness and steer northwest. They were twenty miles south of their destination in some very dangerous waters.
On the fifth day the lookout spied the land they were looking for. In the morning sun the Cedar Keys showed as humps, darker than the coastline behind them, and soon the five-gun steamer Nygaard could be seen heading out for them fast. Before the Nygaard arrived, the details of the Keys came into better focus and Wake could see several vessels at anchor offshore of the islands. This was obviously more than a routine army transport assignment. Something important was happening, and he wondered what the role of the St. James would be in those events.
The captain of the Nygaard, a very tall thin lieutenant commander named William West, whom Wake had met at a conference at the squadron offices, hailed the captain of the St. James as they came alongside forty-five minutes later. He advised Wake that the St. James was to anchor with the rest of the ships off the islands and to wait there for the troops that would be embarked the following morning. No additional instructions were given, and the Nygaard reversed course back to the anchorage so quickly that no queries could be made.
The anchorage was in the deeper water four miles to the west of Seahorse Key, the southernmost of the Cedar Key islands. Surveying through his glass, Wake counted eight ships anchored there, which was a larger group than any other he had seen in Florida outside of Key West. Rork joined him at the rail.
“A grim scene, Captain.”
“That it is, Bosun.”
“Looks as if there’s somethin’ agoin’ on here, Captain, but I heard nary a peep back at Key West about a big push up this way. Jes’ some of the soldiers headin’ north on the Fort Brooklyn there, but I thought they were bound for Tampa, maybe to set up a battery on Egmont Key.”
“When did they leave port?”
“Saw ’em loadin’ up some field howitzers last week, while you were living the life o’ a English lord with her ladyship at the boardin’ house. Must ’a been Sunday that they departed. Even that ol’ barge got ’em up here fast. Surprised it made it, really.”
“Rork, if they’re bringing artillery, this is no routine run for us. This many ships mean a regiment possibly.”
Both men assumed a grim face as each contemplated the possible scenarios they were getting involved in.
“Aye, Captain. Somebody’s been getting’ ideas inta their head about goin’ ashore up on this coast in a big way. I jes’ hope they knew what they’re about when they planned this little excursion, so’s those poor sods that has to do the doin’ ashore don’t get done in. This ain’t a place for fools’ ideas.”
Wake didn’t like the tone of the conversation and tried to present an air of confidence toward the upcoming mission, whatever it was and whoever had planned it in Key West.
“I think the word fool is a bit too drastic, Rork. In any event, we’ll find out when we get up to the anchorage there.”
Rork maintained his serious look as he turned to his captain. His eyes reflected a strange sadness even as his voice sounded neutral.
“Among the Irish, Captain, there is a sayin’. There’s not a thing in the whole world as dangerous as a damned fool who is convinced he is right and who thinks he’s got a strong punch.”
Wake sighed as he turned back to eye the ships anchored ahead. More than Rork’s words, his very manner bothered Wake. It was unlike the Irishman, who was always the man to buck up other men when events got difficult. It made Wake uneasy.
“Well, Rork, we’ll soon find out one way or the other. Let’s get that mains’l hauled in better. She’s luffing a bit.”
The steam gunboat, making nine knots, was back at the anchorage with her hook down long before the schooner arrived. When St. James finally arrived, Wake anchored near the other schooners that had been gathered from all over the squadron’s area of operations. With no further instructions, Wake had the men set about their usual duties while he examined the small fleet they had joined.
The Ariel, under Master Russell, was there from Tampa Bay; the Fox, under Ensign Chase, came from the St. Marks River; Ensign Robbins’ Sea Bird had arrived from Clearwater; and the Two Sisters under Master Partridge came from Suwannee. Only the Annie with James Williams was missing from the smaller schooners of the squadron, she being still assigned to the station around Key West. With her absence, Wake found himself the senior officer of the assembled schooner captains.
In addition to the schooners, there were several steamers anchored. The former ferry boat Fort Brooklyn was there from Key West. She was quite unseaworthy, being built for harbor work in New York, and had a bad reputation in the squadron. Wake had heard in Key West that she was going to be a station ship anchored at Tampa Bay and could not fathom the reason she was here at the Cedar Keys. Wake did not know her commander’s name.
There was also the four-gun Bonsall, commanded by the well-known Lieutenant
