Sailor Take Warning

By J. Bruce Walker

Set in the tumultuous American Civil War, a young Confederate Naval Officer, John Kirk Fulbright, meets some of the most notable people of the time. With manpower shortages, he finds himself conscripted into service with the Army, where he serves throughout the Atlanta Campaign. As the war winds down, his family scattered across the land and his country is torn asunder, and hanging in the balance is the future of all. It will be up to the survivors to rebuild.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781468572537

J. Bruce Walker

The author lives in Georgia with his wife, Sherri, and their daughter Shelby. He has always been interested in American History (especially the Civil War period), admiring Generals Grant, Sherman, Longstreet and Cleburne. He is a graduate of Auburn University and an Officer in the US Navy Reserve. As a member of the US Navy, he was mobilized to Kuwait, where he served with the Third US Army ("Patton's Own"), an honor that his Father and Grandfather (both US Army Veterans) were unable to enjoy.

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Sailor

Take Warning

J. Bruce Walker

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© 2013 by J. Bruce Walker. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/21/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7255-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7254-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7253-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012905407

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This book is printed on acid-free paper.

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

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UNDER A BLOODY BANNER

CHAPTER 1

BREAKING FREE OF the horizon, the sun began to radiate its heat against the chilly autumn morning. The sails bloomed under the power of the wind, snapping taut under the pressure, and on deck, Jack Fulbright scanned the ocean to the east. Searching for a Union vessel, Jack slowly moved the brass telescope at the water’s edge. He moved the piece carefully, trying diligently to not lose his mental as well as his optical focus.

It seemed odd that only a few months before, he would have begged to serve on one of the Unions ships that at any encounter could end his life. Although he still wore his midshipman uniform from Annapolis, it now bore the insignia and buttons of the Confederate Navy. He had left Annapolis only a few weeks before, and he would still have served in the Union Navy until it became apparent that the North was prepared to use force to keep the South in the Union. At this point, Jack knew he could not lift his sword against his native state of South Carolina, nor could he stand by and watch her be attacked without coming to her aid. Right or wrong, South Carolina was his home and the home of his fathers. He felt reassured in his decision to fight for South Carolina the day before, because he managed to see Fort Moultrie where his great-grandfather had stood behind the spongy, bombproof palmetto timbers to stave off the British almost a century ago.

As he looked upon the vast waters, he saw a faint blur on the horizon and focused on the growing blur. Then, as if by magic, it took form. Jack’s heart began to race and his breaths became quicker; he sent for the Captain as he rang the alarm.

The Captain, a veteran mariner, advanced on the bridge at a faster pace than Jack had ever seen the man take. Since venturing on this voyage, the man became more youthful and animated.

Mister Fulbright, the gray-headed elderly man began, can you make her out?

Sir, it has three masts and could be a merchant, but I’m not sure that I can see her colors.

Let me see, the Captain said as he took the spyglass from Jack and studied the contact. After a prolonged pause, he finally barked, Union vessel to port. Silence! Man the port guns! I relieve you of the deck . . . to your post!

Jack ran to his battle station to observe Lieutenant Thompson, the ship’s Gunner, making the gun crews prepare for the ensuing engagement.

Cast off and provide! Thompson ordered as the men wrestled with the guns. Tackle was attached to some iron eyes on the gun carriages, and the gun ports were kept open for action. Also, a sturdy rope was passed through the cascabel and attached to each side of the gun ports to ease the violent effects of recoil.

Jack watched the approaching vessel. Small forms scurried on the enemy decks, and as he looked, he saw the large banner stretching itself from the rear of the ship. Although it was now an alien flag, Jack could feel a chill run the course of his spine, and he felt it necessary to choke back a tear.

Run in!

The guns were pulled back from the gun ports.

Serve vent and sponge, shouted the Lieutenant, and at each gun one man rammed a damp sponge on a pole, and another man placed his hand over the vent.

One man appeared with a powder bag and another with a shell at each gun as they awaited the next command.

The enemy ship appeared huge as the relative speeds of both ships closed them to within a few thousand yards.

The gun captain at each gun kept his hand over the vent as the order to Load rang out. The charge was placed inside the muzzle and pushed into place with the rammer at the other end of the pole that held the sponge. Then, wadding and a rounded projectile were pushed down the barrel.

Run out!

The guns were plied and pulled back to the gun ports.

Prime, Thompson yelled!

A sharp pick was forced into the vent to open up the vent and to tear the powder bag, which would expose the powder for ignition. The gun captains placed primers into the vents and waited behind their guns holding the lanyards firmly in their hands.

Aim!

At that point, each gun captain made small adjustments with local commands. The gun immediately in front of Jack was urged by the call, muzzle left!

Ready! Thompson paused briefly and continued his gun orders. Fire!

The gun captains pulled their lanyards, and the gunlocks fell across the primers. These were designed to pass free of the vents after firing to prevent gas build-up that might cause an in-bore explosion. The guns roared and vaulted across the deck. Smoke filled the air and began to irritate Jack’s eyes. Slowly, the chaos began to surround him, and he resisted the urge to bow to the insanity of the event. Instead, he focused desperately on the guns, and as he did, he noticed that the crews were working on different steps of the loading procedure. Suddenly, he realized that the gun crews were not fully manned; some of the men were crawling and clutching at their bodies, which were torn and shredded. Then, Jack saw a few men who made no movement at all; one of them was Lieutenant Thompson.

Loudly, Jack’s senses returned him to the fray. Through the ever thickening smoke, he called to the remaining members of the gun crews.

You men, he said as he laid his hand on their shoulders, find a place with the other crews. The men rushed to take the place of fallen shipmates.

He carefully reviewed the orders to the guns and issued them loudly and clearly to the men, until he got ready to order the guns to fire.

Ready! He commanded and paused. He felt the ship rock to its highest point in the roll. He sensed the momentary point of weightlessness, and as the ship fell back, he gave the order.

Fire!

As he turned to walk down the row of cannon, he found himself shoved forcefully to the deck. His face turned from the flemished rope that had eased his fall, and he pushed up from the wooden deck with his arms; however, as he moved his left leg, he could feel the intense rush of pain engulf him. When he realized that there was a connection between the pain and the movement of his left leg, he immediately stopped his movements.

Run in! He began to shout, but he paused as he felt the blood spraying in the air in front of him. His nose was broken, and his forehead was cut, but all Jack noticed was that blood poured from his body. He paused noticeably and hesitated as his focus shifted from his task to his own personal safety.

Gunner’s Mate Greene walked over to the injured midshipman, and said, Yer nose is broke an’ you’ve cut yer noggin, and he continued, . . . an’ yer leg’s gotta nasty little scrape, but I ’spect you’ll be a tellin’ yer gran’chil’ren ’bout it.

Wiping the blood from his face on his sleeve, Jack felt a little more at ease. Greene helped him to his feet, and he hobbled around the gun decks giving orders to the crews. More importantly, Greene had allayed his fear, and he returned to his duty. Still, he felt the intense chopping of pain with every step. Jack watched as his men wrestled with the cannons, forcing shot after shot into the Federal schooner.

As the CSS Yamacraw cut across the enemy’s wind, the Union ship stalled and the Rebel brig was able to maneuver behind the ship’s flank, crossing the T from astern. The move allowed the Yamacraw to bear all of her Starboard guns in a massive salvo against the Yankee ship. The broadside devastated the ship, toppling the mizzen mast and the mizzen shrouds. As the smoke cleared, the enemy fell silent, and moments later, the Union sailors and their remaining officers struck their colors. Moments later, a white standard rose to take its place.

Ahoy, came the call from a naval officer on the defeated schooner, I wish to discuss terms of surrender! I have many wounded men and most of my senior officers are dead. I would like to see to the care of my men, that they be treated with due regard to their injuries. The Union officer lowered the megaphone and waited for a reply.

Granted! Commander Chambers bellowed back, and Jack noticed that he was wearing the Captain’s Coat, which was darkly stained around the shoulders. (The Captain had been struck by a Federal round that had brutally, yet neatly, ripped his skull from his shoulders. His head was resting gently on a bundle of canvas, and his body lay limp on the deck near Chambers.)

This ordeal now over, Jack walked over to get a drink from a water keg but fell unconscious to the deck after a few steps.

Jack awoke in his bunk, learning to find that he had been wounded by either a bullet or by a shell fragment. (The shrapnel ripped at a tangent to his left thigh until it collided with his scabbard. Then, the projectile ran straight down the scabbard, into the top of his boot, impacted his calcaneus (heel) bone, and stopped at the heel of his boot.) The Yamacraw’s doctor had sewn and dressed the torn muscle on Jack’s thigh, and, suspecting a fracture, he dressed the heel and foot in a swaddling maze of cloth bandaging. The ship’s doctor expected that he would have to amputate the foot once they made landfall, because he was sure that gangrene would set in. The doctor did not even bother to clean the wound with chloroform and reapply dressings, because he had more urgent work with the prisoners.

For two days, the Yamacraw made attempts to enter Wilmington, but a small squadron of assorted Union ships were adamant in enforcing the North’s blockade. After failing to enter Wilmington, Commander Chambers hoisted a white streamer on the tall aft mast of the brig and approached the largest Federal ship, a large ketch pressed into service for the blockade, and discussed the offload of his captured Yankee prisoners. The Union Captain agreed to allow the Yamacraw a safe passage into Wilmington to pick-up supplies and to transport the injured Confederate officers and men back to Charleston by rail. In return, Chambers promised to release the wounded and able-bodied prisoners to the Union ship. In addition, both men agreed that if the Yamacraw limited its stay to sunset the next morning, neither ship would engage or pursue the other; instead, the two ships would return to their prior duties. It was an odd agreement, but it was honored by both parties. The Yankees administered the blockade with one less ship (an older sloop that took the wounded to Boston), and the Yamacraw turned east to negotiate on economic and military points with the British in Nassau.

As for Midshipman Fulbright, his service to his native land was in a state of limbo. No medical personnel saw to his wounds at Wilmington, where he waited for four days to board a train bound for Charleston. During this time, he was only half aware of his condition, drifting in and out of consciousness, as his pain rose beyond the threshold of his ability to tolerate it. The jostling ride back south in the cold night air made him wish for an end to his pain, as he frequently felt his heel bone scraping against itself as the rail car danced down the rails.

At Charleston, Jack was carried to the hospital and his bandages were removed. There he felt a noticeable depression in his thigh and a large swollen mass of flesh covered in dried blood at the back of his foot. The doctors examined the foot, and noticed no spreading of gangrene, but knew it was only a