Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [102]
When we all finished telling Daddy our stories and explaining what had gone on in his absence, he leaned back in his chair and said, “You’ve had quite a time of it here while I was gone, haven’t you? But you’ve all done very well. My thanks to you.”
“I’m so glad you’re home,” I said. “Now you can make the hard decisions from now on.”
He reached for my hand, frowning. “Caroline, I can’t stay. I’m leaving again in a few days.” I stared at him, unable to speak. “I came back to apply for a government commission as a privateer.”
“Daddy! That’s the same thing as being a pirate.”
He laughed. “I suppose Mr. Lincoln and his friends might see it that way, but I consider myself part of the Confederate Navy. Our privateers have already made a big impact on the war effort, raiding Northern ships. And, of course, any goods my ships manage to seize will help the South, too.”
What my father planned was much worse than running the blockade. Attacking Union merchant ships on the high seas was considered piracy, and captured privateers faced execution. “Please don’t do this,” I begged. “It’s too dangerous. If you’re caught they’ll kill you.”
“Then I guess I’d better not get caught.” He smiled, trying to make light of it, but when he saw my expression he sobered. “Caroline, don’t make me feel any worse than I already do for leaving you. I would gladly heed your wishes if this were peacetime. But we’re at war, and every man—every woman, for that matter—has to do what he feels called upon to do. For Charles and Jonathan, that meant going off to fight. For me . . . this is something I really feel I have to do.”
I nodded and pretended to understand. Charles, Jonathan, and now Daddy were all willing to risk death for the Southern cause— but I still didn’t see how it was worth dying for.
“Besides,” Daddy continued, “President Davis had a showdown with Lincoln last November over his treatment of captured privateers. Davis threatened to execute a captured Federal officer for every privateer Lincoln executed. Lincoln finally backed down. Privateers are treated like any other prisoners of war now.”
“That’s a very small comfort, Daddy.”
“I know. But you can be proud that your father is about to become part of the Confederate Navy, Sugar. Did you read in the papers how we took on the Union fleet last week—and won?”
I had read about it, but Daddy was so excited about our victory at Hampton Roads that I let him retell the story of how the Confederate ironclad Virginia sank the Union’s most powerful warship, the Cumberland, then set the Congress on fire and drove the Minnesota aground. When the Union ironclad Monitor arrived the next day, the Virginia battled her for four and a half hours before the duel ended in a draw.
“Our sewing society has been making sandbags all week,” I said. “We’re sending them to General Magruder to fortify Yorktown against the Federal fleet.”
Daddy raised his fist and cheered. “Bravo! And bravo for Magruder. He has the Feds fooled into thinking he has a lot more men at Yorktown than he actually does. If the enemy fleet knew we only have about eight thousand men there, they would have sent landing parties and taken the city a long time ago.”
I thought about his words as Esther brought in a pecan pie for dessert—Daddy’s favorite. If the enemy knew how weak we were, maybe they could attack quickly and end the war before there was any more bloodshed. More than anything else, I wanted the war to end before the men I loved had to die.
“Now, this ain’t gonna taste near as good as usual, Massa Fletcher,” Esther warned as she set the pie in front of Daddy. “Seeing as I had to make it without real sugar. Ain’t no sugar anywhere in Richmond, just sorghum.”
“When I come back, Esther, I promise I’ll bring you a whole boatload of sugar.”
“You going away again, Massa Fletcher?”
“Yes, I can only stay for