Sea Wolf of the Confederacy by David W. Shaw

Author:David W. Shaw
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Free Press
Published: 2004-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

The important question in Read’s mind, upon receipt of this intelligence, was whether he should trust it. Disinformation and deception were common in war. He played that game himself. It was possible that the defenses were not as strong as the prisoners made them out to be, but then again, they might have told him the truth. He had learned much in the five weeks he commanded Clarence. While he did not wish to spend his men on a useless errand, he nevertheless wanted to carry on with his mission. Based on what he learned, it seemed obvious he could not sail into Hampton Roads with Clarence. “I then determined to cruise along the coast and try to intercept a transport for Fortress Monroe and with her to endeavor to carry out the orders of Commander Maffitt, and in the meantime to do all possible injury to the enemy’s commerce.”

If Clarence were to meet with a transport bound for Hampton Roads, she would have to cruise in the approaches to the Yankee stronghold. Thus, Read made his northing well offshore and proceeded west along latitude 37 degrees north, headed straight toward the bay. The mission to destroy commerce was secondary, but one he was determined to execute with vigor, should the opportunity favor him. They had been lucky so far, very lucky. He overheard the men saying Florida ’s uncanny good fortune traveled with them; this seemed to help assuage their fear of capture, which Read knew permeated the ship, and for good reason.

As Read stood on his little bridge, the sun to his back, he continued to observe the sleek, black bark sailing northward off his port beam. She was approximately 375 tons displacement, almost twice the size of Clarence, with a lofty rig, a yellow figurehead at the prow, and intricate carvings painted white along her stern. She sailed much faster than Clarence and on her present course might pass the brig before the two vessels crossed paths. If that occurred, there was no hope of catching her. Read turned to First Officer Brown. “Call all hands to quarters,” he said, “but keep the guns under cover.”

“Aye, sir,” Brown said.

Read also ordered the colors half-masted and any crewmen wearing the uniform of the Confederate Navy to disguise it in favor of the garb of the usual Yankee sailor. The ruse had worked well with Whistling Wind. It might do so again.

The men tumbled to in well-practiced fashion. The long hours of drills beneath the intense tropical sun that once seemed amusing and ridiculous had transformed them into a combatready team. That all the guns, save one, were wood did not matter. The thrill and rush of battle took hold every time the brig hove close to a potential prize, and it was no different on this morning, the air still cool from the receding cloak of darkness, yet tinged with the promise of the coming heat of the day. The crew stood in silence and watched as the bark approached.

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