Read Online Soldiers of Conquest by F. M. Parker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: F. M. Parker
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Go and make preparations for what must be done.â
Lee filed out of the mess with the other officers, and then veered off and walked to the ships railing. Joe Johnston came up and stood beside him. They silently stared out across the black sea. On the shore a thousand bivouac fires burned with leaping orange flames. The voice of a man raised in song came to them.
âHe had better do his singing now,â Johnston said. âWeâre going to have a lot of American blood on the ground before this war is over.â
*
With the night draped in blackness over Talbotâs Trader, Grant seated himself at the tiny table in his cabin. Placing paper close to the frail light of the candle, he began a letter to Julia Dent. She had been his betrothed for two years and in all that time he had seen her but once. Feeling an immense yearning to hold her in his arms, he told her how much he missed her. He continued on to describe the beauty of the harbor and the beach. He told her that the army had arrived at Veracruz and had made a successful landing upon the coast, and that he wished for a short war so that he could return to the States and they could be married.
Grant finished his writing and studied the flickering flame of the candle. Julia seldom wrote, and rarely expressed any fondness for him. He reflected upon this characteristic of Juliaâs, and upon his mother Hannah whom he had never seen cry or express any feelings for his father. Maybe all women were like that. Reflecting upon that thought, he prepared the letter for the mail packet.
*
In the gray gristle of dawnâs first light, Grant came awake to the ship trembling and shaking under powerful blasts of wind. He knew a ânorther â, a fast moving storm with gale force winds had arrived. It was the curse of all sailors on the Mexican coast, and now of the American soldiers.
Grant came out of his cabin and into the stiff wind raking the shipâs deck. To maintain his footing on the plunging, rearing vessel, he held to the taut, straining rigging with the ropes strumming like piano wires under his hand. Overhead a low mass of dark gray clouds sped south. A gull shot past like a white arrow, barely missing the shipâs whipping mast.
All around him the sea was a ribbed expanse of high waves with every crest crowned with white spume. Half way along the shipâs length, the waves crests ran level with the railing. Grant could have scooped up a handful of foam by merely reaching out for it. The Trader plunged its bow into a huge roller and breaking free brought a ton of water aboard that swept the length of the ship in a dense curtain.
All the ships of the fleet, except for three of the supply vessels, had their snouts pointing into the north wind and pulling mightily on their anchor chain. The three supply vessels had been torn from their anchorages by the wind and driven ashore where the huge breaking surf was pounding their ribs upon the beach. Two of them were close together directly opposite Grant, and one a quarter mile farther away along the shore.
Grant recognized the ships on the beach. The two closest vessels carried officersâ horses, the third wagons. His mare was in one of the ships. He had captured her from a herd of wild horses roaming the plains north of the Rio Grande and had broken her to ride. He hated to think of the harm being inflicted upon the gentle animal.
He saw Captain Lyford and his two mates standing together and partially protected from the wind on the lee quarterdeck. He made his way to them.
âCaptain, I need to take men to those wrecked ships and salvage what I can of the cargo,â Grant called through the strident whine of the wind in the shrouds.
âAnd the sooner the better, I know. But I canât put a boat in the water with the sea running so damn high. However itâs been easing up for the past hour. If it continues falling, Iâll take a chance on two of my boats and enough
Lee filed out of the mess with the other officers, and then veered off and walked to the ships railing. Joe Johnston came up and stood beside him. They silently stared out across the black sea. On the shore a thousand bivouac fires burned with leaping orange flames. The voice of a man raised in song came to them.
âHe had better do his singing now,â Johnston said. âWeâre going to have a lot of American blood on the ground before this war is over.â
*
With the night draped in blackness over Talbotâs Trader, Grant seated himself at the tiny table in his cabin. Placing paper close to the frail light of the candle, he began a letter to Julia Dent. She had been his betrothed for two years and in all that time he had seen her but once. Feeling an immense yearning to hold her in his arms, he told her how much he missed her. He continued on to describe the beauty of the harbor and the beach. He told her that the army had arrived at Veracruz and had made a successful landing upon the coast, and that he wished for a short war so that he could return to the States and they could be married.
Grant finished his writing and studied the flickering flame of the candle. Julia seldom wrote, and rarely expressed any fondness for him. He reflected upon this characteristic of Juliaâs, and upon his mother Hannah whom he had never seen cry or express any feelings for his father. Maybe all women were like that. Reflecting upon that thought, he prepared the letter for the mail packet.
*
In the gray gristle of dawnâs first light, Grant came awake to the ship trembling and shaking under powerful blasts of wind. He knew a ânorther â, a fast moving storm with gale force winds had arrived. It was the curse of all sailors on the Mexican coast, and now of the American soldiers.
Grant came out of his cabin and into the stiff wind raking the shipâs deck. To maintain his footing on the plunging, rearing vessel, he held to the taut, straining rigging with the ropes strumming like piano wires under his hand. Overhead a low mass of dark gray clouds sped south. A gull shot past like a white arrow, barely missing the shipâs whipping mast.
All around him the sea was a ribbed expanse of high waves with every crest crowned with white spume. Half way along the shipâs length, the waves crests ran level with the railing. Grant could have scooped up a handful of foam by merely reaching out for it. The Trader plunged its bow into a huge roller and breaking free brought a ton of water aboard that swept the length of the ship in a dense curtain.
All the ships of the fleet, except for three of the supply vessels, had their snouts pointing into the north wind and pulling mightily on their anchor chain. The three supply vessels had been torn from their anchorages by the wind and driven ashore where the huge breaking surf was pounding their ribs upon the beach. Two of them were close together directly opposite Grant, and one a quarter mile farther away along the shore.
Grant recognized the ships on the beach. The two closest vessels carried officersâ horses, the third wagons. His mare was in one of the ships. He had captured her from a herd of wild horses roaming the plains north of the Rio Grande and had broken her to ride. He hated to think of the harm being inflicted upon the gentle animal.
He saw Captain Lyford and his two mates standing together and partially protected from the wind on the lee quarterdeck. He made his way to them.
âCaptain, I need to take men to those wrecked ships and salvage what I can of the cargo,â Grant called through the strident whine of the wind in the shrouds.
âAnd the sooner the better, I know. But I canât put a boat in the water with the sea running so damn high. However itâs been easing up for the past hour. If it continues falling, Iâll take a chance on two of my boats and enough