Galveston by P. G. Nagle

Author:P. G. Nagle [Nagle, P.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9781611380217
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2010-10-31T06:00:00+00:00

Pensacola proved to be an excellent harbor, and the Harriet Lane’s crew began improving in health from the day of her arrival. A supply of fresh provisions did much toward this, but the location was also considerably healthier than the Mississippi’s fever-breeding swamps.

Fresh sea breezes blew through the ship, cheering the sailors who were busy scrubbing every nook and cranny. Ships, being wooden, were apt to harbor bad smells that even constant vigilance could not eradicate completely. Quincy had his division at work holystoning the berth deck, and the carpenter’s mate had been filling the bilge with fresh water and pumping it out daily.

While some of the machinery at the Pensacola shipyards had been destroyed by the Rebels as they had abandoned the place and retreated inland, much was intact, and plenty of materials were left. Copper and iron in abundance remained in the storehouses, and that had apparently clinched Commander Farragut’s decision to make Pensacola his base of operations. That and the fact that his ships could lie in the calm waters of a harbor while they resupplied, instead of bouncing on the open sea. Farragut had already had the coal-hoisting machine, which saved hours and spared the coal-heavers back-breaking labor, moved here from Ship Island.

Becker came down from above. “First dog watch coming up. Your men finished?”

“Almost,” Quincy told him.

“We’ve got a mail, came by the Relief. You’ve got letters.”

“Thank you,” Quincy said, trying to ignore the sudden heat in his veins. Had the Relief stopped at New Orleans? “I hope you had letters, too,” he said.

“One from my mother,” said Becker. “I’m saving it. It’s thick. She rambles, bless her.”

At four exactly Quincy sent his division to put away the cleaning things and bring out their mess chests, while he retired to the wardroom. Opening the narrow, slatted door to his cabin, he saw two letters lying on his bunk and snatched them up at once.

One was from his brother, the other written in a feminine hand that gave his heart an odd lurch, even as he recognized the blue paper. It was from Miss Keller. Never before had he been disappointed to receive a letter from her. He cast both letters upon the bunk and pressed a hand to his forehead, then picked them up again and took them out to the wardroom table.

Gerard was there, working his way through a plate of fresh beef and boiled vegetables. Quincy sat across from him and opened the letter from Nathaniel. It was the one he’d been expecting for so long, written before Colonel Ellet’s death, filled with descriptions of the Battle of Memphis and concern for the colonel’s suffering. Quincy folded it up again and tucked it in his pocket, then picked up Miss Keller’s letter.

The wardroom steward set a plate of food before him. Quincy took a bite of boiled cabbage and opened the letter. A pressed daisy fell out of it; he could smell a trace of its pungence.

Lea sat down beside Gerard and exchanged greetings with them both.

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