Wake shuddered as he thought of the last river he had entered—just a month earlier. This one had the opposite appearance of that one though. Here no sign of human habitation could be seen, not even the small dock that was supposed to be a quarter mile inside the entrance, according to the plan. Instead they found a curve of rocky beach below a six-foot-high sand bluff on a bend of the river. The area behind the bluff was the only open land around, maybe an acre, surrounded by a tree line of oak and palm. Apparently that was the landing place. The river had narrowed to fifty yards at the most, the jungle-covered banks offering concealment to any Rebels who might be watching.
Erne returned to the stern of the tug and shouted to Wake that he was casting off the tows and they could row ashore here. The boats’ crews broke out their oars and rowed the few yards to the beach where they grounded and leaped out, moving through the shallow water, up the bluff and out into the open area behind it. The sailors went about their business quietly, with an unusual lack of noise or show. Usually when they were called upon to act like soldiers there was some cajolery, but not this time. This time it was as if they were trying not to disturb the area and awaken some malevolent force. Their faces showed more than concern—they showed fear.
With the boats back undertow again, the tug tried several times to back astern and turn in the current-swept narrow river, but Erne was clearly having difficulty with the maneuver. Wake saw his blond head moving from one side window to the opposite in the pilothouse of the tug, his arm gesturing to the bosun on the afterdeck who was overseeing the sailors trying to keep the towed boats from being damaged or fouling the propeller with their lines. Finally, when it seemed the bow of the David would not come around, she turned abruptly into the current and made speed against the flood tide, heading out to the ships far out to sea. The sailors in the boats and ashore watched as the tug left them and moved out the entrance of the river. No one said a word.
Wake walked ashore and climbed the bluff to survey his new domain. Out to sea he could see the anchored schooners and on the horizon the masts of the larger ships. They seemed impossibly far away. He shook his head slowly as his right hand absentmindedly traced the scar over his right ear. Turning inland, Wake walked over to where McDougall stood motioning for some men to bring the supplies up the bluff.
“McDougall, present my compliments, and I would like to see the ensigns and the senior petty officers in five minutes for a conference, right here.”
McDougall acknowledged the order and went off to notify the others. The open field was crowded with sailors now, some at the tree line facing outward with their muskets in a picket line and others busy hauling provisions and setting up canvas awnings for shelter. It all looked quite organized and efficient, but Wake didn’t like the current disposition of the defenses. It was too close, too confined. It reminded him of a similar navy beach camp at the Myakka River the year before, where the Rebs had quickly overrun the defense line and the camp. Only the guns of Wake’s armed sloop had prevented a massacre and saved many sailors’ lives that night. He didn’t want to be in that position again if he could help it. And this time there were no ship’s guns to save them.
McDougall came up to him and advised that the officers and senior petty officers were gathered for him, pointing to a group of men seated in a circle on packs and boxes under a sail awning by the edge of the bluff. Wake nodded to the gunner and walked over to his subordinate leaders.
“Well, gentlemen, we are here and I want to go over a few of the necessary things immediately so that there is not, and will not be in the future, any confusion.”
Wake stopped and looked around the group to ensure that he had their attention. The older men, the senior petty officers, wore the neutral expressions of veterans. They were waiting for orders and showed no emotion. Their confidence was such that they figured they could probably get through anything, even such an obviously misguided endeavor as the one they found themselves in. The younger ones, the ensigns, had rapt countenances. They knew they were unprepared for what was about to unfold and hoped Wake would dispense some profound plan of action that would give them the self-assurance they lacked.
“All right then. First we organize the men. Ensign Chase, you are the senior and will take the men from your vessel, the men from the Ariel, and the men from the Two Sisters. Bosun Ford, Coxswain Stanforth, and Gunner Simmons from the Ariel will assist you. I want you to take those thirty men and form a picket line out into the woods at least fifty feet. I want the picket line to have a breastwork cut from saplings and bushes, with the area in front of it cut down for at least thirty to forty feet. I want that accomplished before you have your noon meal. Understood?”
Chase and the petty officers voiced their understanding.
“Now, Ensign Robbins, you will take Bosun Kingston and the ten men from your schooner and form a reconnaissance to go up the road four miles toward Claresville. I want you to go and see what’s about in that area, but do not go
