The two-gun tug David was anchored astern of the Bonsall. Commanded by Lieutenant George Jonathan Erne of New York, she was one of the workhorses of the East Gulf Blockading Squadron and in demand all along the coast. Erne had a good reputation as a man who could overcome adversity.
On the far side of the anchored ships, Wake could see a merchant ship converted to a transport, her decks crowded with hundreds of men in army blue. Rork pointed to the soldiers’ ship and nodded his head.
“Aye, Captain. An’ there’d be the ones to make a little history ashore soon. I wonder what they told those poor beggars? Ya know, it could almost make a sailor feel sorry for a soldier.”
A set of signal flags soared up the halliards of the Nygaard a few minutes later while Wake was below. It requested all captains to repair aboard the Nygaard at the end of the first dogwatch for dinner and a conference with Lieutenant Commander West.
Wake was advised of this by Rork, who also suggested with a wink of his eye that his captain wear something more formal than his usual seagoing rig of tan cotton trousers and white cotton shirt. That, of course, meant changing into his regular sea service uniform of heavy blue coat, trousers, and cap.
The new 1864 navy uniform regulations that had come out six months earlier had finally relaxed some of the old uniform rules and provided for more comfort in hot locations, but Wake did not have one of those new uniforms. Officers had to buy their own clothing and the chandlers in Key West had none of the new lighter weight shell half coats that were authorized. It didn’t matter anyway to Wake, as he had no money to buy a new outfit—it had all gone for Linda’s ring.
The regulations had changed several times during the last few years, and meetings of officers frequently displayed a conglomeration of the various types of allowed coats, hats, and insignia. In a squadron like the East Gulf most of the officers on the smaller ships, Wake included, ignored the uniform regulations anyway and dressed for comfort.
West’s cabin on the Nygaard was magnificent compared to Wake’s aboard the St. James, spacious even with six officers already standing there. It held a real desk and a large table with four chairs. Several oil lamps were stationed around the cabin, their glow making the stifling hot air even warmer. A bed that actually looked soft and pleasant was built into the bulkhead along one side. A skylight above brought the sun into the cabin, but by this time of day the rays were oblique and mercifully weakened.
Wake saw that the table had charts of the area spread on it and that the executive officer of the Nygaard, Lieutenant Partington, was quietly explaining something to the commanders of the others schooners and the tug. Nodding heads acknowledged Wake’s presence as Partington continued his narration and Wake sidled over to the corner of the table. The gunboat captains and Fort Brooklyn’s commander had not arrived yet.
Abruptly, a burst of laughter came from the passageway outside the cabin and the door opened. West entered, followed by an army colonel and major as well as Taylor, the captain of the former ferryboat. Both the colonel, an older man with the smiling ease of a lawyer, and the quiet, almost shy major, wore New York infantry insignia. They had beads of sweat covering their faces, which were blanched and mottled. Wake thought they looked seasick and felt a slight sympathy for them. He hoped for their sake they did better on land.
Partington introduced everyone, Wake learning that the man commanding the ungainly ferryboat was a lieutenant named Charles McKinney. The army officers were Colonel Lucien Wherley and his adjutant, Major Robert Martin, of the 195th New York Volunteer Light Infantry Regiment. They had just arrived from Port Royal, South Carolina, where they had been on guard duty for six months.
West, Wherley, Martin, and Taylor, as the senior officers present, took their places in the chairs around the chart table as Partington gave preliminary information about why everyone was there.
“Gentlemen, all of you have been ordered to rendezvous here at the Cedar Keys in order to carry the war to an area of Florida that has hitherto been untouched. The Rebels in the area have been sending their beef and foodstuffs to the main Confederate armies in Tennessee and Georgia for two years now. We are all here to put a stop to that. In addition, we hear that many parts of the area are ripe with disaffection for the Southern cause and would come over to the Federal side if they saw a credible force locally. Accordingly, the navy will land the army at the mouth of the Timucuahatchee River, one day’s sail to our north.”
Partington paused and looked around the cabin. No one broke the silence and he resumed talking in the direction of the darkened forward corner of the cabin.
“Major, would you care to continue on with the army’s plans, sir?”
Major Martin came forward from his place in the shadows and stood before them, breathing deeply and placing a thin index finger on the chart’s line showing the coast.
“The men of the One Hundred Ninety-fifth New York, supported by a battery of field six-pounders manned by men from the Fifty-second New Jersey Artillery at Key West, will land at the mouth of the river and march inland. The first day will be taken up with getting our supplies and baggage on the land. The
