The grimy, disheveled navy bluejackets nodded at the soldiers relieving the perimeter defenses and then wordlessly trudged away over to the swamp road, ignoring the questions the soldiers called out to them. They were too tired to explain what had happened there. Wake sympathized with his sailors. The soldiers would have to figure it out themselves. After all, they were soldiers, and this was what they trained for and were supposed to understand.
A young army captain broke away from the formation and marched toward Wake, still in perfect unison with the company behind him. He was a strongly built man of around Wake’s age and exuded confidence as he stood at attention three feet away.
“Captain Wake? Captain Palanson reporting to relieve your force, sir. Major Martin presents his compliments and has ordered me to assist you in every way.”
“Welcome to Claresville, Captain Palanson. Thank you for relieving us. As you can see, we’ve been a bit busy since our own arrival. You may go right into our lines and we’ll be out of your way immediately. The Fifteenth Florida Infantry has apparently departed to an unknown location with the main force of the regiment, but there is a rear guard in those trees over there. The enemy main force still has somewhere around four or five hundred men and two or three pieces of field artillery, but I believe they are very low on ammunition. They may reprovision, however, and return. I would suggest you maintain utmost vigilance. Good luck, sir.”
Palanson eased his manner enough to look around at what was left of Claresville, then nodded at Wake.
“Very good, sir. And good luck to you.” Palanson saluted and turned on his heel. Walking over to his noncommissioned officers he began issuing orders, frequently pointing to the spot beyond the perimeter where the enemy rear guard was positioned, and then around the village.
Off in the distance, a small group of Confederates could be seen standing in the line of oaks on the other side of the fields. It was a much smaller group than the previous day when the Rebel line had stretched completely along the tree line with flags flying their defiance. The rear guard detail was there to act as watchers only and warn of the inevitable Federal advance, Wake thought as McDougall approached him. The old gunner was even more gaunt than usual and his voice was without its normal force.
“Soldiers are in the perimeter, sir, an’ I’ve got our men formed for the walk to the beach. Boys are tired, but they’ll make that walk, for certain, Captain. Wounded have already left with the surgeon. Officers are all there waitin’ for you, sir.”
“Very well, McDougall. And how are you? You don’t look well.”
“Aye, Captain, I’m feeling a bit poorly this mornin’. Missin’ the sea air in me lungs. Even that ol’ Gulf o’ Meheeco air is better than this foul place. I’ll be better when I smell a little salt around me.”
“Very well, gunner, present my compliments to the officers and pass on to them to get all hands moving off to the beach. Don’t wait for me. I’ll be along directly.”
With that Wake went over to the place where the Confederates had made their main attack on his sailors. He walked along the sand street, now littered with the detritus of battle. Everything of use, such as weapons, ammunition and packs, had been picked up by the sailors. What was left was the depressing evidence that men had desperately killed other men in that spot: dirty bandages and dark stains in the sand, torn butternut-colored uniform tunics and blue navy caps, several family letters torn from pockets while searching for something of value, ripped paper cartridges and mangled muskets, and many expended bullets flattened from impact on something or someone.
Wake walked slowly, kicking through the trash littering the ground, and wondered again if his solution with Wherley was worth it, whether it was fair to the men, from both sides, who had died at this place.
He realized his aimless course had taken him fifty feet beyond the defensive lines and looked back at the village filled with dark blue forms gazing at the naval officer wandering around looking at the ground. Watching them watch him, he knew his decision and the gamble had been the right one. Those boys would need all the confidence and strength they could muster in this difficult land. Behind them, Wake saw the last of the sailors moving away from the wreckage of Claresville down the swamp road. A sudden odd thought intruded on his pensive mood. He wondered who was the Clare that someone had loved enough to name a village after? What was she like? And what would she think of the destruction that had been done at her namesake?
***
The sailors breathed deeply and stared at their floating homes getting closer as the tug towed them westward in their ships’ boats. There was no refreshing breeze to energize the flat brown water, but that didn’t diminish their relief. The air had salt in it and their lungs finally felt full. The horizon was limitless, and they felt free after the confines of the land. Smiles and laughter showed on their faces for the first time in days, as if they were now awake after a nightmare. Wake glanced over at the officers and petty officers in the other boats and saw that they too were looking better. The effect on the sailors of just seeing the Gulf of Mexico as they emerged from the Timucuahatchee River made Wake smile. The farther they got from the shore the more alive they all felt.
However, McDougall, who sat next to Wake in the stern sheets of the boat, was still looking ill. Wake saw that the movement of the swaying boat was making him
