Varina(47)

—It’s not just me, V said. There’s family to consider. Even if we make it out, reunion would be hard.

—Not harder than if we’re all in prison.

Burton said, Delrey, no need to be alarming. Worst case, even if these stories are true and we’re caught, the Federals won’t charge either of you with treason or conspiracy. They’ll try to make you think they will, but they won’t. And I know I didn’t conspire, and neither did Mr. Davis.

Delrey said, They’ll sure charge you and try to hang you, no matter what the truth is.

V thought a minute and then said to Burton, So, Havana? You’ll come with me?

—Yes, Burton said. Of course.

Ellen hadn’t said anything. She’d mostly looked down the field. So when the men were gone, V stood beside her and asked what she was thinking.

—I’m trying to figure that out. When we left Richmond, Cuba never entered my mind.

—I don’t know what to say. If we make it to Florida and find a boat, I want you to come. But only if you want to.

—I could get down there and not be able to get back, Ellen said.

—That’s possible, V said.

—I’ll have to study on it.


AFTER SUPPER—children settled in the wagon-bed for the night—the fugitives sat around a campfire burning low, and the navy boys started talking, and they mostly told their story over the top of each other. Bristol started by saying, That last day was terrible. No doubt about it. Everybody had to own that we were beat.

The boys went on to describe the fall of Richmond. How everybody in the city, to some degree, seemed blistered from the loss of a long war and the failure of a shaky made-up government created to represent the worst features of a culture. Leaders busy packing to run. Food scarce, money worthless. Roads clogged with scared refugees knowing the Federal army rode hard just hours away. And after nightfall, the city began to go up in flames. But, on the other hand, Bristol and Ryland were sixteen and armed. Chaos thrilled like a great adventure.

That night, eight cadets, four to a skiff, were given big casks of black powder and cans of coal oil and told to row out to the CSS Patrick Henry on the James River and blow her up and burn her down, preferably in such a way as to impede water traffic for the Federals. Sad, yes. She had been their training ship and mostly their home for over a year. But blowing things up—especially when they’re large and important—thrills at any age, and especially at sixteen.

On board they gathered all the stray weapons and ammunition they could find quickly and heaped them into the skiffs and then lit the fuses and hustled to row away. They were almost to the riverbank when the powder blew. And then the oil cans caught with such a great sucking combustion and eruption of yellow flame that they stopped rowing and cheered in pure anarchic joy. Flames lit the water like sheets of crumpled gold leaf under sunlight, and then waves broke around them and bucked the skiffs until the boys gripped the gunnels to keep from being thrown into the river.

Ryland looked at the burning ship and said, We’ve sure hell done it now.

Soon as they reached dry ground, the eight heroes who sank the mighty PH stood at the riverbank and watched irreverently and in awe as their ship burned toward the waterline. Then they looked around for fellow cadets to praise them and for officers to tell them what to do next. But officers were not to be found. Important business elsewhere, no doubt. Back toward the city, undersides of clouds shone amber and red and yellow with buildings afire.

Ryland said, Appears like we’ll call our own orders from here on.

Nobody agreed with him aloud. Some of those boys weren’t more than fourteen and didn’t know what to say. Ryland, though, had decided he never intended to trust rulers again. No bosses and generals and presidents no matter what government they came from. He felt entirely able to judge every man above him in the chain of command all the way to Wood and Lee and Davis.

Bristol said, Let’s go see what’s happening in town before we commit too far.

Ryland rattled through the weapons and ammunition they had claimed from the ship and came up with an ugly sawed-off twelve-gauge.

He held it up to the boys and said, See this scattergun? Soon as I get the material, I’m gonna pack me some shells with shot big as sweet peas. Nobody’s gonna cross me then.

With nowhere else to go, they distributed the rest of the weaponry and walked toward the train station for lines running toward Danville and points south. The direction of home.

The city whirled all crazy. Little impromptu squads of people rushed around looting houses and stores and warehouses. People ran down the middle of the street carrying blanket bundles of clinking valuables slung over their shoulders—silverware and crystal and china. People cradled precious breakables in their arms like babies. One woman strode along with six or seven fancy hats stacked on her head, holding her arms straight out and palms up for balance. A man hauled an awkward purple velvet tête-à-tête love seat by himself with just the aid of a muslin tumpline running from the hind legs across his forehead. A man and woman dragged a great crystal chandelier the size of a cabriolet behind them, leaving a trail of broken faceted glass sparkling in the firelight.

City officials unwisely ordered bars and hotels to break open their barrels of whiskey and beer and pour them into the gutters. Therefore, many folks sat on curbstones dipping drinks with looted china cups and crystal goblets or just supping primitive from their two hands. Flames jumped gaps from building to building and the fire built minute by minute. Smoke and the crackle of burning wood and booms of exploded munitions filled the air.