Raptor Civil War Voyage of a Clipper Ship

By Thomas G. Baker

It is October 10th 1860 two young men find themselves on a Louisiana levee in the middle of the night cold, destitute, and the sole survivors of a steamboat explosion. It is just the first in a series of events that will forever change their lives and propel them on a voyage of adventure, romance, mutiny, and treasure. Raptor is also the tale of a naïve boy and his journey into manhood as he finds himself caught up in the intrigue of the American Civil War.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas G. Baker
• Release date: Nov 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370673629

Thomas G. Baker

After years of living on his sailboat in the small laid back village of Astor Fl.Tom has, as they say, has swallowed the anchor. He now resides in the tiny hamlet of Big Bone, Kentucky beside the creek bearing the same name. With an affable orange tomcat named Tom-Tom as companion he spends his days communing with nature, writing novels, and reminiscing with old and dear friends.

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RAPTOR

Civil War Voyage

of a

Clipper Ship

Thomas G. Baker

Raptor

Civil War Voyage of a Clipper Ship

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

Raptor Civil War Voyage of a Clipper Ship

Copyright © 2016 by Thomas G. Baker

ISBN 13: 978-1370673629

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Table of Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Characters Raptor

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book along with my deepest gratitude to the Herrmann family for their kindness over the years and to thank Tammy and Allen for all they have done to make my remaining days pleasant and peaceful.

Preface

By the beginning of the Civil War the clipper ship era was drawing to a close. They were still the fastest vessels on the ocean as long as the wind blew. Like the turtle and the hare the clipper would blow by the steamer just to have it pass her when the wind died. Most of the period steamers were themselves sailing ships fitted with auxiliary steam engines. The engines were for the most part only used to keep the ship moving in the desired direction when there was no wind or to combat a contrary wind. The sails were a necessary precaution as fuel sources were limited and the engines of the day though simple were prone to breakdowns.

To a clipper in peacetime the lack of wind was an inconvenience but in war it left her vulnerable and unable to maneuver or flee an enemy steamship. During the Civil War several clippers met their fate at the hands of Confederate steam raiders such as the CSS Alabama and Shenandoah.

In order to give Raptor an edge I have employed a little license, as Mister Robert Parrott’s hundred pound rifle didn’t arrive until somewhat later in the war. The Parrott was employed on ships and on land by both sides and were among the most effective heavy weapons of the period.

In this day when so many seem hell bent on revising history and in some cases erasing it completely the Civil War has become a minefield where most authors dare not tread. Raptor is a historical novel and as such could not have been written without using the authentic vernacular of eighteen sixty yet I do not believe any sensible reader will find it offensive when taken in context.

I have, throughout my life, subscribed to two simple principles one obtained from a lady named Peggy who told me, Show me your friends and I’ll show you who you are, and the other from my mother who said, Associate with good people and always treat them fairly and they will do the same for you. Associate with bad people and no matter how well you treat them they will always wind up treating you badly. I have found over my lifetime this holds true for race, religion, politics, and the other walks of life as all contain both good and bad people.

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Introduction

Writing fiction largely involves the manipulation of truth and lies. It allows leeway to create factitious characters and plots, yet weave them into a tapestry of realistic locations and events. If this blending is performed properly then a novel results which is both entertaining and illuminating.

I hope you will find in Raptor a novel that manages to strike a balance between a work I enjoyed crafting and more importantly a novel that appeals to you the reader.

Like my other novels Raptor follows a central character, in this instance Mister Thomas Puckett, who also acts as narrator. It begins on October 10th 1860 when two young men find themselves on a Louisiana levee in the middle of the night cold, destitute, and the sole survivors of a steamboat explosion. It is just the first in a series of events that will forever change their lives and propel them on a voyage of adventure, romance, mutiny, and treasure. Raptor is also the tale of a naïve boy and his journey into manhood as he finds himself caught up in the intrigue of the American Civil War.

****

Chapter I

Between the mist and smoke Thomas Puckett could barely make out the nearest bank by the light of the burning wreck. All around him were the sights and sounds of people in distress. He wanted desperately to help but with his left leg useless it was taking all his effort just to keep afloat. He treaded water for a minute or two until his head cleared then with much effort struck out for shore dragging the disabled leg.

On reaching the levee, he hauled out, and immediately conducted an examination of his aching appendage. It was still attached and he was relieved after the inspection to find it was likely only a charley horse. Tom then turned his attention to the drifting inferno that only minutes before had been the proud steamboat Lana Hamilton. He could hear faint cries for help along with an occasional scream. Then someone close by lamented, Lawd hep dim po piple.

He recognized the voice as belonging to Sam Jefferson his best friend and the cook on the Lana so shouted, Sam over here it’s me Tom.

The man approached, knelt down, and asked, Missa Tom you all right?

I said, Yeah just got me a charley horse, what about you?

He said, I be all right, its dim po folks out yonder dats a hurtin’.

We both turned our gaze toward the flaming wreck that was rapidly growing smaller.

I asked, What happened?

Sam said, Dim bylers da all mus blow.

I asked, Did you see what became of Uncle Walt?

Sam said, Know fo show Capin Walt he be up wit de pilot Missa Dowd when de house it come clean off.

I asked, What we gonna to do?

He said, Don’t rightly knows…spose maybe outta stay where we is till marnin’.

I said, Reckon so, in this dark can’t see my hand…think anybody besides us made it?

I began to shout, Is anybody there.

But after a few minutes gave up as no one responded.

Sam said, Tink we mus be de only ones.

I said to Sam, You needn’t pretend there’s nobody around.

Sam answered in a low clear voice, "Best not… you can ever be sure as to who may be listening.

I took off my shirt, wrung it out, and laid it on the grass, I began to dry off and felt warmer. Because it was so unseasonably hot and humid Sam and me had taken to sleepin’ on the forecastle deck landing stage as the water flowin’ under it tended to cool us off. The explosion had blown it and us into the river and by some miracle we had managed not to be scalded, impaled, or sucked under the boat and run over by the wheel.

We lay on the bank until dawn showed the broad muddy Mississippi flowing in front and to our backs sugarcane fields stretching off to a distant tree line. We sighted a big side wheeler comin’ down river and both of us hailed it but they paid us no mind and kept on goin’. Sam said, "Guess we should walk down river could be we’ll find folks from the Lana along the bank."

We started walking and in about two miles began to see a curl of smoke rising ahead. In due course we came upon the smoldering remains of the Lana stranded on a bar not fifty feet from shore. There was a crowd standing on the levee while some others could be seen on the bar wading around poking through the charred wreckage. We reached the crowd of mostly blacks sprinkled with a few poorly dressed whites.

One man by his bearing and dress stood out making it obvious he was supervising the rest. I made my way over to him and asked if there were any survivors. He said, No, only bodies burnt so terrible their closest kin couldn’t tell them from a beef roast.

I said, Me and Sam was sleepin’ on deck and got blowed off over three miles back.

The man said, Is that so, then you must have knowledge as to the boat and its name?

I said, "Yes sir, she’s the Lana Hamilton belonged to my Uncle, Captain Walter Puckett. We only left New Orleans yesterday headin’ for Cincinnati."

He asked, What’s your name, where are you from?

I said, Thomas Alexander Puckett from Warsaw, Kentucky.

He looked at Sam and asked, He your nigger?

I said, Sam Jefferson ain’t nobody’s nigger, he’s a freeman and the best cook on the whole river.

He eyed Sam again and said, Best cook on the whole river. Has he papers to prove it.

Sam said, All de papers da been wit Capin Walt.

He turned to a black man and said, Jeb take them on to the house and see to it they get fed. Tell Mistress Abigail I’ll be along directly.

He turned to me and said, No need you remaining all day. Go with Jeb and I’ll get with you when we finish recovering what’s left of these poor devils.

As we followed Jeb I caught a glimpse of several charred bodies laid out along the bank. We mounted a wagon and rode down a dirt road until we came to a mansion with white columns supporting a large second story veranda encompassing two sides of the house.

I asked Jeb, Who owns this place, it’s huge.

He said, Capin Winfiel youse was jus a talkin’ ta him.

The wagon pulled behind the big house and came to a stop beside a white brick kitchen. Two black women came out and Jeb said, Dese be de only two lef from dat boat blow up. Massa Tim he sais to feed dem good… I gots to go n tell de Mistress.

Jeb headed for the house leaving us in the care of the women. One looked us over shook her head and said, Sakes alive if youse ain’t a pitiful lookin’ sight. She pointed and said, Day’s a basin an pitcher unda dat tree, go along an wash-up while I be fixin’ y'all somein’.

Sam and I washed our faces and hands then went and sat on the kitchen steps. Directly the woman came to the door and said, Come on in an get somethin’ in dim bellies.

We entered the kitchen and were seated at a large plank table where plates of eggs, ham, cornbread, along with butter and a jar of preserves and another of honey were set in front of us. The women poured us cups of steamin’ coffee and asked so many questions we scarcely had time to get down a bite. We ate with unbridled enthusiasm while an audience of exuberant pickaninny’s peeked in the windows with bright eyes starin’ at us as if we was part of a circus side show. The women would shoo them away from one window only to have the young rascals pop up in another.

We thanked the women and returned to the porch to wait not sure what we was waitin’ for. Sam and I was in a fix, our whole world had revolved around the Lana Hamilton and now that she and Uncle Walt was gone we found ourselves no better off than stray dogs. I was more worried for Sam than for me as him bein’ a black man in Louisiana was twice as dangerous as bein’ black up north. Even though he was a freeman, without papers and someone to vouch, he was subject to bein’ seized and sold into slavery.

It was past three when Captain Winfield sent Jeb to fetch me. I left Sam sitting on the steps and was escorted to the house. The inside was grand with tall ceilings and velvet curtains on almost every window. The walls were all beautifully papered and the polished floors covered in rugs of the finest quality.

I was taken to a study and ushered in. Captain Winfield was sittin’ behind a large desk readin’ and without looking up bid me take a seat. He said, I’m sorry to inform you, your Uncle’s body has been recovered. He and the other unfortunate souls are to receive a Christian burial in the morning. There will be a New Orleans bound packet stopping here in a day or two, you and your cook can take passage.

I said, Sam and me need to get to Kentucky, don’t know nobody in New Orleans, and we ain’t got means for passage.

He said, Your uncle had on his person substantial moneys along with two sizable drafts. He also carried letters naming you his ward and beneficiary so I’m certain as rightful heir his property will come to you.

He handed me a heavy money belt. It was still damp and when I looked inside saw a raft of double eagles and liberty heads along with some papers. He said, You can with certainty afford first class passage. The fact is you have been left a fortune of some consequence. One can never be too careful so if you wish I will hold it in safe keeping until such time as you depart.

It was more money than I had seen in my whole life and I didn’t hesitate to let Captain Winfield deposit it within his safe. He said, "You can reside here in the house and your man will be quartered with the darkies. Have no worry, Sam’s papers were recovered, and he will be well cared for. No one black or white is mistreated at Cypress Point.

I was placed in the care of a houseman named Jonathan who conducted me to an upstairs bedroom apartment that I imagined was the equal of any European palace. I was left alone for only a short period before he returned with an arm load of clothes and laid them across the bed and said, Master wishes you try these, find somethin’ that fits, and be proper dressed when I come fetch you at six.

There were several trousers and jackets along with shirts stockings and even shoes. After trying on everything I found a set that almost fit perfect. I was down to tying the tie when Jonathan entered and asked if I required any assistance with dress. I turned and stood inspection, he looked at my outfit from head to toe smiled and said, Very good please allow me to assist with the tie then I will conduct you to the drawing room.

We proceeded down stairs to a handsomely furnished parlor where three finely dressed ladies were seated along with Captain Winfield and another gentleman. The men arose when I entered, Captain Winfield smiled and said, Mister Puckett you show yourself to be the picture of a perfect gentlemen.

I’d never been called gentlemen except in jest but knew he meant no offense. I nodded in acknowledgment and he beckoned me to approach. He said, Mister Thomas Puckett may I present my wife Abigail, this is Colonel Anthony Darbonne, his charming wife Adel, and the young lady is their lovely daughter Theresa.

I might have been raised in a small Kentucky river town but my family had always practiced manners and I knew their use when circumstances called for them. I bowed to the ladies and shook Colonel Darbonne’s hand. The young Miss Darbonne appeared about my age but seemed shy and nervous like an unbroke filly causin’ me to avert my gaze from her and concentrate only on the gentlemen.

Colonel Darbonne spoke and asked, I hear you and your boy had quite an experience, please if you will relate to us the particular details.

I said, "Nothin’ much to tell… me and Sam was sleepin’ one minute and the next found ourselves swimmin’ in the Mississippi with the Lana all on fire and people screamin’ somthin’ awful. We stayed all night on the levee till it come daylight then walked to where we met up with Captain Winfield. Reckon that’s about all I can say of the matter."

Captain Tim said, "There’s a telegraph in town if you wish to send a message to your family. I’m sure they’ll be worried when news of the Lana reaches them."

I said, Don’t got no folks… mother she died of consumption in 53 and pa year last got run down and kilt by old man Kennedy’s lumber wagon when them crazy horses of his bolted. It was just me and Uncle Walt though I do got a married sister name of Janet lives someplace up in Ohio.

He said, So then you’re an orphan.

I said, Never did think of it as such but reckon I can call it so now that Uncle Walt’s past on.

Captain Tim said, Mister Puckett may well be orphaned but thanks to the generosity of his uncle he has been amply provided with means.

I noticed when my status as an orphan and new found wealth came to light the ladies attitude toward me somewhat softened especially that of Miss Theresa Darbonne who gave me coy glances yet when our eyes met hers darted away and she began to blush.

Talk turned to the situation and Secession. I kept quiet until the Colonel asked direct if my allegiance would lay with the South. I played dumb and told him I didn’t know much about allegiances only that folks back home was gettin’ mighty worked up and makin’ a big fuss over things such they was talkin’ about.

Dinner was somewhat of a disappointment as although the table was set and decorated like at thanksgiving the food was no more than everyday fare of fried chicken, potatoes, and gravy. I figured the only difference in food between master and slave was one was served on porcelain china while the other got theirs on tin plates. I was glad when dinner was over and I managed to excuse myself so I could go check on Sam. I found him sitting in front of a slave cabin and he lit up when he saw my approach.

He said, Missa Tom darn if dey ain’t got you lookin’ jis like a real gentleman.

I said, These clothes are only borrowed it’s still me under em. I come to see if they was treatin’ you all right?

Sam said, Dey mus tink I been starvin’ way dey been feedin’ me fried chicken an taters.

I said, Don’t worry Captain Winfield found Uncle Walt’s papers including yours along with enough money so we don’t have no more worries. We can catch the boat for New Orleans and take passage on the first steamer headed for the Ohio.

Sam looked relieved and said, Dats good to hear as ain’t none of dese folks so free dey can come an go as dey please. Been fraid I was a fixin’ to join em.

I said, "We can go wherever we have a hankering to go. Uncle Walt left a pile of money maybe even enough to buy a farm in Steels Bottom.

Sam said, What you gonna to do with a farm when neider one of us knows diddly about farmin’?

I said, Guess your right but it would be nice to have someplace where we could rest our feet.

He grinned and said, Youse knows well as I do ain’t got time to rest no feet on a farm. Dat is iffin yose truly plans on makin’ a livin.

The next morning a service was held for those who had perished on the Lana. Most musta been carried down river as only fourteen had been found and some of the coffins was no bigger then a hat box as the legs, arms, and even some heads had got burnt off. Uncle Walt and the pilot being the only ones still whole as they was found in the wreckage of the pilot house.

Sam and me didn’t look all that hurt but we was stiff and sore all over and spent much time under the big live oak by the kitchen figuring on what we was gonna do. We stayed on at Cypress Point for the next three days before catchin’ the packet for New Orleans.

We was seen off at the landin’ by Captain Winfield and Mistress Abigail. They was accompanied by Miss Theresa Darbonne who with her honey hair, lily white skin, and rosy cheeks looked about as pretty as old widow Anderson’s rosebush in full bloom. I thanked her for comin’ to see me off but she allowed she had only accompanied the Winfield’s in order to take some air. I couldn’t help from watchin’ as she strutted back and forth on the levee as her gait put me in mind of a Tennessee Wakin’ horse.

Captain Winfield had been so kind as to present me with the fine suit of clothes as well as letters to his business agent in New Orleans requesting he render any assistance required of him. He also warned me not to be fooled as the hard money though substantial was just a pittance when compared to the drafts both of which were for the sum of twelve thousand dollars.

I knew enough to realize twelve thousand dollars was a fortune and twenty-four thousand more than enough to settle me in about any circumstance of my choosing for life. I gave thought to a farm then maybe of purchasing a share in a steamer. I could be her captain as the pilots did much of the work, Sam could be the cook, and help with the paperwork like he did for Uncle Walt. I would have pursued these matters further except for making the timely acquaintance of one Mister Daniel Sutton.

Much of the conversation at Cypress Point had centered on the growin’ unrest in the South. When asked I told them I never paid no mind to talk of Secession. That wasn’t entirely true as I was learnin’ on that particular matter it was better to keep quiet and let other folks spout off. From what Captain Winfield told me he was certain there would be war. Yet he was also of a mind that when it came it would be of short duration. There was also much said of immediate Secession should Mister Lincoln be elected.

I knew Uncle Walt had grown concerned and the drafts were the proceeds from the sale of properties he held in New Orleans. He told me the way things was goin’ he doubted we’d be makin’ many more runs south of the Ohio.

I overheard this Mister Sutton talkin’ to another man and it became evident their sentiments lay with the North. They was talkin’ of a long war and how it would cause great ruin. When the man left and the chance arrived I introduced myself. I Informed Mister Sutton of what I had heard at Cypress Point then asked his opinion.

He said, Folks down here believe all they need do is declare independence, hoist a flag, and carry on with life as usual. The North isn’t about to allow the dissolution of near half the country. There is bound to be war even though the South hasn’t got the chance of a hog on a spit of winning it. Pity is these Southerners suffer no lack of pride and have them just enough resources to make much mischief. I dare say when war comes they will find it a most tiresome and bloody business.

I said, Truth is I have come into some small means and am contemplating investing in a steamboat.

He said, I do not at present see that as a wise investment. When war does come both sides will destroy or seize every steamer they can lay hands on. The rivers are entirely too dangerous already without adding the burden of one army or the other shooting at you.

I asked, What then should I do?

He said, I would strongly advise completely removing yourself from the conflict otherwise you will be caught up in the fervor of patriotism and be drawn into the fray. Why not venture west to California whereby with prudence and diligent industry your small means may be transformed into a large fortune.

I said, The gold rush has ended there are no longer any fortunes to be made in California.

He said, Utter nonsense people are flocking to California in droves. When this war arrives as it must they will be in need of all sorts of articles, any you can imagine. Do you perchance have a trade?

I said, None I can rightly lay claim to.

He said, Then you must decide on one and pursue it to perfection.

I began to wish I had not spoken so casually of my means as Mister Sutton began to remind me of the drummer who would come to town and peddle snake oil as the elixir of life and cure all for any of a hundred different maladies. Yet we passed the