Sharyn Mccrumb_Elizabeth MacPherson_07 Read Online Free Page A

veteran of the seas. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
    Some of the younger crewmen, impressed for duty from army regiments, looked bug-eyed with fright, just like Gabe felt. “What’s it mean?” asked one.
    â€œWhy—defeat!” roared the old salt. “I reckon we’ll all be civilians come morning. And then we better get ’way from here quick as we can, lest we all be shot! By the Federals! Oh, they’re a-coming all right. You just watch the sky, boys, and you’ll see.”
    Sure enough, not five minutes after he’d made this prediction, as they were up on deck stowing their gear away as best they could, somebody shouted, “Lookee yonder!” They turnedthe way he was pointing to see the whole sky on the north side of the James aglow with the fires of Richmond.
    â€œIt’s the Yankees, come from Petersburg!” someone called out.
    But an officer nearby overheard, and he said, “Not yet it isn’t, boys. That’s our soldiers burning what they can’t take with them before they head south. That’ll be material and barracks going up in smoke.”
    â€œWhat’s going to happen to us, sir?”
    The officer scowled as if he didn’t want to answer, but finally he replied. “You’ll be boarding one of the wooden gunships for now. That’s all you need to be told.”
    Tom Bridgeford leaned over and whispered to Gabe. “You think there’s any chance of making a run for it?”
    Gabe looked up at the orange sky over Richmond. He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fittin’ to run away,” he said. “Besides, doesn’t look like there’s too awful many places to go.”
    It was well past midnight when the crew of the ironclads were finally provisioned and allowed to board one of the fleet’s five wooden gunboats. Gabe and Tom Bridgeford found themselves wedged together on the deck of the
Roanoke,
their faces illuminated by the glare from the burning ironclads. Admiral Semmes had ordered that the ships be torched rather than left to fall into the hands of the enemy.
    â€œHe could have just scuttled them,” said Gabe, watching the flames dance across the deck of the
Virginia.
    â€œMaybe he thought that time was getting short,” said Bridgeford. “Besides, what’s one more fire in the midst of this conflagration?” He pointed toward the sky over Richmond, still bright with the evidence of the night’s destruction.
    â€œWhat do you think is going to happen now?” asked Gabe.
    â€œDepends on how Lee has fared in Petersburg,” said Bridgeford. “If he still has fight in him, we might move the government south and keep fighting. Charleston would make a nice capital. Or Wilmington.”
    â€œBut we’re going upriver,” Gabe said.
    Bridgeford stared off at the dancing fire shapes, pretending he hadn’t heard. Gabe wondered what he ought to do now. Pa could sure use him at home for the farm work this time of year, and it didn’t look like the Confederacy had much longer to live, but still he didn’t feel right about leaving just because things were going bad. If you gave your word on something, you stuck it out.
    The
Roanoke,
moving steadily upriver, away from the burning ironclads, had not gone more than a quarter of a mile before an explosion shook the water, making the vessel lurch to starboard and tremble like a sapling in a hurricane.The flames had reached the ironclad’s magazine, whose loaded shells had not been removed by the departing crew. When the shell room exploded, it lit the shells’ fuses and catapulted the live ammunition high into the air above the river, giving the navy a send-off of spectacular fireworks. But no one cheered.
    The ships endured an hour’s wait at one of the drawbridges between Richmond and Drewry’s Bluff, while the troops who had set the evening’s bonfires were