This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and then If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.
Seaward Plantation
War clouds chapter six
Mark Appleby awoke with his face pleasantly buried in Bundit's thick bush of jet black hair. The Siamese man lay half-on, half-off of his chest, one persimmon colored arm and one leg lying across Appleby's body. Bundit had simply collapsed that way after last night's passionate lovemaking- -indeed, after a whole day, and the night before that, of saying "till we meet again" to his friends of Seaward Plantation. Now Bundit slept soundly, crusty patches of dried semen on the sheets, on Appleby's torso, and between their entwined bodies remaining as testaments to last night's ecstasy.
However, Appleby had awakened with his usual morning erection. Bundit's thigh crossed over his groin just below his rampant organ, while Bundit's own penis, likewise involuntarily stiff even in his sleep, poked out from under the Asian man's groin, jutting over Appleby's lower belly, a clear drop of precum oozing out. Appleby shifted a little to his side while one arm came around Bundit's back to hold their two bodies together. Bundit moaned, twisting a little as he floated up into consciousness. Appleby had rolled so that their stiff penises were now aligned together as they lay on their sides, while Bundit's leg and arm remained over Appleby's body, now flopping over his back and butt. Bundit's eyes fluttered open to see the white man's face pressed close up to his own. A smile parted his rosebud lips and he pulled himself in tighter to Appleby.
"Good morning, Master Mark," he said softly.
"Good morning, Bundit," Appleby replied, slipping his free hand in between their torsos. He grasped both stiff penises and began sliding his hand up and down, up and down. Bundit sighed with pleasure and pecked forward a little with his full, pink lips, seeking out Appleby's mouth. The two kissed lightly, brushing lips, kissing noses and cheeks, sharing breath. Appleby shift a little to bring the head of his longer penis even with the head of Bundit's thick, shorter cock. As his hand cycled up around the two dickheads he squeezed a little tighter, twisting just a bit, pressing the light red and golden red cocks together. A film of precum began to coat both shafts and the skin of their bellies.
The two men now began to push their bodies together, a slight humping of each one's hips grinding their slicked torsos together. Breathing increased. Chests mashed together, each heart could feel the other heart beating but a few inches of flesh away. Arms and legs clasped around backs and butts pulled in, tightening the connection. Slowly, slowly the crisis crept up on them until Appleby's body from his knees to his face tightened and he pushed hard into the Asian man crying "Oh! Bundit! Oh, I love you, I love you," spewing out his affection in the form of semen. Bundit tightened his own grip on the white man's body and then his orgasm came on as he shot out waves of cum to join Appleby's, white and Asian semen mixing and swimming together on skins and sheets. Both orgasms passed, Appleby removed his dripping hand and wrapped it around Bundit's back, and the two lay there together like that for long minutes. Each opened their eyes at the same time to see a tear glistening an inch or so away. They kissed again and hugged tightly. There were no more words to say. Appleby rose and taking Bundit's hand led him naked down the hallway in the early morning light to head down the stairs to the bath room. On the way down, streaks of semen still glistening on their torsos, they passed Hector coming up the stairs, naked and fresh clean from his bath. He stopped to peck both Appleby and Bundit on the lips, then walked to his own room with his pendulous black cock swinging to clothe himself for the journey into Charleston.
Appleby and Bundit bathed and ate a hasty breakfast. As they were preparing to leave, a few of the people came into the dining room of the main house to wish Bundit goodbye one last time: Hector, Cass, Juno, and Portia, Wat, and Marcus. Marcus hugged Bundit quickly, his emotions carefully neutral, then ran out of the house quickly. Appleby wondered whether the boy was overcome with emotion and trying to hide it. Bundit gave Wat an especially tender hug and whispered in his ear, then did the same for Portia. Both mother and son smiled bravely, but their eyes glistened. Hugs and handshakes went around the group, and then it was time to go. Stepping down from the verandah, they met Troy and Priam who were also sailing into Charleston. Appleby and Bundit joined them and down to the pier they went as the sun rolled fully up over the horizon.
With four hands it did not take long to get the Hesperus ready for sailing. They pushed off from the pier and began the voyage into Charleston. The men smiled at one another, and Bundit made it a point to sit near each one of his friends, but there were no more words to say. The voyage passed smoothly, and as the buildings of Charleston became distinct in the morning light, Appleby said, "Friends, we'd best say our goodbyes here; we have to be careful ashore." Then he hugged Bundit tight and slipped him some money in gold pieces. Bundit tried to refuse but Appleby insisted, saying it was part of his "salary." Troy and then Priam hugged Bundit as well, and then the men struck a tableau of white owner and slaves so as to be presentable as they docked at the pier.
Securing the Hesperus to the wooden uprights, the four men stepped off onto the pier. There was an unusual amount of activity, it seemed. Many ships and boats were at the pier or lay at anchor farther out in the harbor. Soldiers and sailors in the uniform of the South Carolina Militia busied themselves going to and fro, and it seemed as if heavy loads of cargo were being moved on and off of ships. Appleby hailed a passing gentleman who was directing a small gang of slaves in pushing loaded carts and barrows down the pier.
"Sir, if you please! What is all the hubbub? What's the matter?"
The man stopped and looked around him. Then he leaned into Appleby's ear. "Rumors of war, sir. There may be action here in Charleston soon. You didn't hear that from me! But if you want to get shipping in or out, as do I, do it now!" Then he bustled off on his business.
The four men looked around at each other. "Well, Bundit, perhaps you were right," said Appleby. "This may be the best--or the last--time to get away. Well, God speed my friend, God speed." Looks among the four had to suffice in place of more meaningful expressions of affection. Then Bundit hoisted his bag over his shoulder and was down the pier, turning up the waterfront when he reached the end, in search of ships. Appleby, Priam, and Troy sighed, then pulled themselves together and worked their way past the crowds on the pier. There was much to be done.
They went first to the armorers to order powder and shot. There was little to be had; other individuals or the Militia had evidently had the same idea, but Appleby bought what he could and left instructions that his servants would carry the purchase to their boat. Then Appleby went on his way to the post office and telegraph office to send off many messages to businesses and friends near and far. He also intended simply to pay his respects to Attorney Smith, to maintain that relationship. Troy and Priam went to work moving the shot and powder back to the boat, and then they had their own agenda of supplies to secure for transport to Seaward.
Later in the day, his errands and a solitary lunch completed, Appleby made his way to the meeting of the Militia. The building was crammed--it seemed as if every officer who had ever been connected with the group was there. Appleby pushed into the mob, seeking a seat. He felt a hand on his arm. It was Robert Ashley, looking splendid in a fancy-dress naval uniform--indeed, perhaps a little more splendid than a day business meeting called for. Appleby smiled at his old friend, his eyes moving up and down Robert's gaudy finery: "You're looking prosperous, my friend, prosperous indeed!" said Appleby, with the hint of a sarcastic smile on his lips.
"Oh, indeed, I am, Lieutenant Appleby," he replied. "Plush with wealth and... and found money, my good sir, found money." He winked at Appleby, a secretive smile spreading over his lips, then moved off to the front table where he was to take his place as a naval leader in the Militia. Appleby puzzled over what he meant by those words and demeanor, but gave it up as unfathomable. No doubt the young man had conjured up some new excess, some simulation of ancient Rome or other degradation to which he might put his slaves. Shaking his head, Appleby found a seat and took it. Musing as he waited for the meeting to start, he realized that he did not regret his long acquaintance with Robert, but that increasingly he could not maintain it further. The power that came with slave ownership was poisoning Robert more than most, and Appleby wanted connection with that contamination less and less as time went on. Still.... it was sad, since Robert had been such a beautiful youth and was now such a handsome young man.
The meeting was gaveled to order. General Beauregard rose and spoke briefly. "Gentlemen of South Carolina," he began, "I come to you from the field. I return to the field directly. As you know, the federal interloper remains in our state and on our lands. We will not tolerate it for long. War, gentlemen, war hovers over us!" A mighty shout rose up from the gathering. "We do not wish it for ourselves, but our state and our land will be free, I swear it by my blood and the blood of free South Carolinians everywhere!" Again, a tremendous cheer. Appleby, appalled by the martial clamor all around him, had to remind himself to put on a good imitation of enthusiasm. "I cannot stay, my place is with our troops. My friends, so will your place be, soon. I can say no more. But I bid you prepare for war when you go from here. To arms!" The entire assembly rose and set up a tremendous clamor which followed the general through the hall and out the door.
With difficulty the meeting was gaveled back to order. Committee reports were dispensed with quickly. War and rumors of war was the order of the day. The meeting was full of very practical plans for what amounted to mobilization of an army. Different officers were called forth and given orders for the assembling of troops and materiel in different sites around the area. Appleby's sad thoughts were interrupted by the calling of his own name. The unexpected summons gave a needed boost of adrenalin to his looming depression.
"Sir!" he said, rising to his feet in answer to the call. A colonel at the podium replied, "And what of the defenses of Seaward Plantation, sir? Are you ready to repel the federals from your island if need be?"
"Let them come, sir, let them come," replied Appleby, both fervently and truthfully, but perhaps not with the sense that was read into his remarks. "Our cannon are trained on the enemy," he said, which was true, "and we are determined to keep our little part of South Carolina free, sir, free from foreign domination!" All true, quite true. The audience applauded and whooped, those standing near him rising to pat him on the back.
The rest of the meeting continued in this vein of dreary patriotism. Appleby forced himself to sit through it, forced himself to cheer with the rest, but he wanted nothing more than to return to the Hesperus and be on his way back to Seaward. He had a strong foreboding that some cataclysm was at hand, and that his life was about to change forever. Finally the meeting finished and as some men gathered to talk enthusiastically in little knots and clusters, others rushed from the hall as if it were on fire, hastening to their commands to make ready for the coming conflict. Among these was Robert Ashley. Appleby had wanted to speak to him, to find some kind of solace in his handsome face, perhaps--who knows?--to spend some intimate moments on the Appleby boat, the Swan. But Robert was out the door as soon as he could--off to prepare whatever ragtag vessels he had at his command for war, no doubt. While the South Carolina contribution to a Southern army was going to be formidable, there were few impressive men of war in Southern hands, and certainly no first rate vessels in Charleston.
Appleby worked his way out of the meeting as quickly as he reasonably could, then pushed his way down the crowded streets toward the harbor area. Activity seemed as frantic as it was before. Arriving at the harbor front, he decided that it couldn't hurt to see if Robert were on board the Swan. Pushing slowly through the crowds in the direction of its usual berth, he was surprised to see it underway as he came near, just catching a wind that was drawing it out into the harbor. But he did catch a glimpse of Robert Ashley standing in the stern, and Robert also saw him. Appleby waved his hand, while Robert--when he removed his hat and waved it, bowing with a flourish, was it with an air of mockery, or was that just Robert's usual excess? And mockery of what? Shaking his head, sure he was imagining things, Appleby returned to the pier where the Hesperus lay, walked up it and found his friends aboard, resting on the cargo they had stored in the hull and lashed onto the deck.
Troy and Priam had experienced a productive day, finding most of the stores they needed although many merchants were running low on goods. There seemed to be a general hoarding in Charleston as people prepared for war, so the three men were grateful that they had been able to secure what goods they had. They agreed that it was time to return to Seaward. Putting off from the pier, they caught a little breeze and began to pick their way through the crowded harbor, past the looming bulk of Fort Sumter, and out into the approaches to the sea. Putting on more canvas with more sea room, they were soon flying before the wind toward home.
Appleby thought he could make out the smudge of Seaward on the horizon as they moved from harbor to sea. Then he noticed that some of the smudge was vertical. Then he thought that it was moving. Within a few minutes, the picture became clear: something making smoke was coming in their direction from Seaward. A few minutes more and the outlines of the Harmony became clear, smoke belching from her stack; she evidently had a full head of steam on and was making for Charleston as fast as she could.
The sense of foreboding that Appleby had experienced in the meeting returned in full force. He felt a wrenching in the pit of his stomach. He found a spyglass on board and trained it on the approaching steam launch. The distance between the Hesperus and the Harmony narrowed, and soon he could make out, on the deck of the approaching launch, Hector, Cassius--and Portia. His heart turned cold. There was nothing he could do but wait for the rendezvous. As the vessels came closer, it was clear that the Harmony had sighted the Hesperus as well. Taking in sail on one vessel and disengaging the screws on the other, the two vessels came alongside each other. Ropes thrown from the Harmony were received by the Hesperus and lashed on board, securing the two together. Leaping onto the Hesperus ahead of any help, Portia fell into Appleby's arms as she gasped out these words:
"Do you have him? Marcus? He has done it again. Say you have him!"
Appleby could only stare at her open-mouthed, aghast, and shake his head. "WHAT?" she shouted. Again, he only shook his head, unable to find words. Portia thrust into his hands a sheet of paper and then collapsed to her knees, supported by Cassius who had come up behind her. Appleby held the paper in his trembling hands and read:
"Dear Mama. I am going to go with Bundit. I will stow away on the Hesperus and follow him. I know he really wants me to go, although he says he doesn't. I have borrowed some money from Papa Mark's study, so I will be alright. I will send you letters. I will come back with Bundit when he is done sailing. Don't worry. Love, Marcus."
In a panic and a fury, Appleby handed the paper to Troy and Priam who read it together as he himself plunged into the hold. Shifting sacks and barrels, bellowing Marcus's name, he soon uncovered every possible hiding place, but to no avail. The boy was no longer there. He bounded back up the ladder to the deck.
"Are you sure he is not on Seaward?" he asked Portia. Ashen, weeping, she shook her head in sorrow. Cassius, hardly more composed, spoke up: "We searched the whole island, everybody helped. We felt sure he was simply playing a trick on us. Otherwise we would have put to sea sooner. Portia found this early this afternoon up in her loft on the boy's bed."
The adults could only stare at each other in shock and bewilderment. Then Appleby roused himself to action. "To Charleston, and quickly. We must search there. Let us dock at the pier and then make plans." His urgency energized them. Portia found strength to regain her feet, and Appley embraced her tenderly as she stood. She and Cassius returned to the Harmony which was untethered from the Hesperus, and both vessels headed back in the late afternoon light to the harbor area.
The Harmony made it there first and was secured by the time the Hesperus pulled up behind her. Appleby called the five other adults to come into the crowded hold of the Hesperus with him. Once there, he spoke.
"Now, we must search wherever we can. Remember, you must all act.... forgive me, you must act like slaves. People will be watching you. I will make enquiries at all the shipping offices. And... and at the slave markets. The rest of you will need to speak to the other blacks here in town and along the harbor, gaining whatever information you can. Find out who has seen a boy of eleven with an Asian man. That combination cannot have been hard to miss."
At this Priam shook his head mournfully and spoke up. "No, master, that is not how it likely was."
"What do you mean, Priam?" asked Appleby.
"If Marcus had found Bundit, Bundit would have brought him back. You know that, master. Somehow they never met up. Or... or they met up and neither one could come back to the Hesperus." He hung his head at this last possibility.
"Then.... then Marcus must have been taken!" said Portia, a desperate look on her face.
"No.... not necessarily. We don't know what happened. But Master Mark is right, we must see what information we can find. Master, I think we should all come back here by, say, midnight to see what news we have."
They all agreed to that plan. The blacks reminded themselves of the need to blend into the crowd, to hide their natural freedom and independence. All six embraced, urgency and the seriousness of their task pushing grief aside for the moment, and then they made their way out of the hold and down the pier. All but Troy; he and Priam agreed that one would remain to guard both vessels, and to be there in case Marcus should return on his own. Priam would search for a while, then return to send Troy out on the quest.
Appleby steeled his resolve and then stormed into town to visit the slave markets first. He had to feign an interest in buying a young, quadroon boy suitable for a house servant, of course; he could not accuse anyone of slave- stealing in their own business and expect their cooperation. From one seedy slave merchant to another he went, and to the auction hall, searching for his own flesh and blood. Once he was simply overcome with the horror of the situation and vomited in an alley behind an especially loathsome merchant. But with no luck. He didn't know whether to be relieved or appalled.
Back to the harbor he ran in the deepening twilight, and went first to the harbor authorities. Two merchantmen from Charleston had departed since the morning for the West Indies; three from Savannah, farther south, had left on their way to Norfolk, Virginia, trading cargo up and down the coast. A French merchantman with a load of cotton stored from last summer's harvest had departed for Brest. A British vessel en route from Jamaica had stopped to buy and sell and was bound ultimately for New York. Nobody in a position of authority had any time or desire to notice an eleven year old coffee-and-cream colored boy. Of course, an Asian seeking work would have been more noticeable, but nobody in that office had any recollection of him, either.
Appleby obtained a list of large vessels still in the port, thinking that Bundit and hence Marcus would not have bothered with any of the smaller, more local craft. Of course, not all of these larger merchantmen were at the pier; many were standing at anchor farther off shore. But if they were in the harbor they all had launches at the pier somewhere. Appleby walked the entire length of each pier across the whole length of the harbor, offering descriptions of both Bundit and Marcus, but to no avail. Some of the sailors and officers he spoke to said they had seen many young boys who might answer Marcus's description that day, but then again the crowds were quite large. Curiously, nobody had seen anyone matching Bundit's description, and Appleby found that odd. But he trudged on with an increasing sense of both urgency and despair.
Dark night came on, with no luck. The crowds on the pier thinned somewhat, but there was still far more business than usual, certainly for that hour. The lights of crafts large and small could be seen making their way across the harbor. With no appetite himself but thinking that his friends might need to eat and drink, Appleby purchased a quantity of food and drinks at a nearby tavern and trudged back down to the boats. It was nearing midnight, the hour at which they had agreed to rendezvous.
Cassius and Portia were not there yet, but Hector, Troy, and Priam were, slumped on the deck of the Hesperus; their silence told the story. Within minutes, near the stroke of midnight, Cassius and Portia came running up the pier.
"What news, any news?" Portia called softly and urgently. Everyone shook their heads and she turned, sobbing, into Cassius's chest. Conscious of the need to not make a scene, Appleby led the group down into the hold below the decks of the Hesperus. There he handed out food and drink, but the group had little taste for it. Everyone related their stories of the afternoon. The search had been diligent, but to no avail. All had similar news: plenty of boys that fit Marcus's profile, but it was as if Bundit had never been ashore. Even those who thought they might have seen Marcus could not tell the people of Seaward anything about what happened to him. Crowds had been too thick and too busy to note the progress of a solitary eleven-year-old.
Appleby summoned up a heartiness he did not feel. "Listen, my friends, we must not despair. We must not assume that something bad has happened to Marcus. Suppose he and Bundit found passage on a ship right away and are now safely away from a war that might break out any moment? Suppose Marcus never found Bundit but is waiting in some welcoming dwelling now, to return to us in the morning? Suppose...." and then his energy gave out. He was convincing nobody, and certainly not himself. He sat down hard on a crate and spoke again, in a weaker voice.
"I suggest that we spend the night here in the holds of the Harmony and the Hesperus and search again tomorrow. Our friends back home will understand if we are gone overnight. Then tomorrow we can return to Seaward. For all we know, Marcus was taken there by some kindly captain who saw that he had no business at sea. Let us rest if we can." The others nodded sad agreement, not knowing what else to do. Troy, Priam, and Hector volunteered to remain in the crowded hold of the Hesperus. The others shifted over to go below decks on the Harmony. It was cramped, but there were blankets that could be spread to make a bed. Appleby, Portia, and Cassius simply tumbled together on the blankets, exhausted, wrapping arms around each other to comfort and console. It was late at night before sleep overtook them.
The dark night crept by with a range of unusual sounds, echoes of trouble and business, near and far. On board both vessels, the people of Seaward rested fitfully. About four in the morning, Appleby was startled from sleep by the advent of a thunderstorm--by the sound of it, it would be there soon and in force. Disentangling himself from Portia and Cassius, he slipped up the ladder to the deck to assess the weather. Flashes of lightning from the east lit up the sky, and the thunder--and then he realized that it was no thunder, nor lightning. Fort Sumter, last stronghold of federal troops, was being fired upon and was returning fire. It was war, in bloody earnest.
A few yards away he could see Troy, Priam, and Hector coming up out of the Hesperus. The "lightning and thunder" they had heard was but the first few volleys. Now, suddenly, the noise became tremendous although it originated farther out in the harbor. Shore batteries from around the harbor came into play and set up a steady barrage of the fort, with the federals answering as well as they could. The air vibrated with every shot, reverberations coming through the very waves and sea bottom. The scream of shells as they flew overhead could be clearly heard, even though they were all farther out in the harbor. Explosions on the walls of the fort sent showers of sparks and debris into the air, lighting up the sky. It seemed to be a glimpse through the doors of hell. Appleby shook his head in sorrow; the federal authorities would never tolerate such an attack. There would surely be a wider war.
All hope of sleep was now gone. The party ate what they could, out of a sense of duty in keeping up their strength, and then fanned out in the early morning darkness. Even so, they were not alone. The bombardment had aroused the entire town. To his amazement, Appleby saw that some had come down to the pier to prepare small craft for going out into the harbor, the better to see the carnage and commotion from up close.
Through the rest of that dark morning and on after sunrise the group searched and inquired. Appleby visited the train station and questioned every stationmaster, conductor, and ticket agent. His friends scoured the harbor and, with trepidation, the area of the slave markets to learn what they could from the underside of the town. Throughout the morning, the slow, steady beat of cannon fire from the harbor kept time to their frantic efforts. At noon they met back at the boats, as they had agreed. There was no news, no more insights as to what had happened. They were defeated, and they knew it.
Tired beyond tears, Portia slumped down onto the deck of the Harmony. Appleby sat next to her but did not dare comfort her yet in such a public place. After a brief consultation, the party decided to return to Seaward if they could, in the vain hope that Marcus might have returned there by some other route. To do so seemed fraught with peril, however. Both vessels pushed away from the pier and made their way into the harbor, but the batteries on shore kept up a steady shower of shells onto Fort Sumter, which of course returned fire. It made for a canopy of death shrieking overhead for any small craft wanting to pass through the harbor. But they had to press on, and summoning their courage, they did so. Although Appleby could not fathom how it might afford entertainment to them, the presence of many small craft full of people in a party spirit helped to disguise the passage of the Harmony and Hesperus. Picking a route among and through the revelers, who set up cheers with each exploding shell on the fort, the two boats of Seaward finally ran that gauntlet and had the open sea in view.
It was then that Appleby sat next to Portia and enveloped her in his arms. He spoke what comfort he could to her, but they both knew that little could be said of any real substance. And he himself was sick at heart, full of self- reproach although he could not have said in what way he was at fault. Words then failed, and they simply held each other as the boats made their way out of the harbor and into the open sea.
As they came within sight of Seaward they could hear the echoes of a distant gunshot coming from the direction of the island. As they came nearer it became clear that it was a signal shot, fired by a lookout on the shore to announce their arrival. The entire remainder of the community was there to greet them, hope and fear etched on every face. As the boats bobbed into the side of the pier and were secured, Appleby noted with surprise that Pan, Bacchus, and Helen were manning one of the cannon and that Cass and Juno each held one of the new carbines with grim determination. But they all downed their weapons and came running to hear what the news might be.
Neither Bundit nor Marcus had returned to the island, which dashed that hope. All the adults stood around on the shore discussing a wide range of possibilities, a conversation that only tormented them as there was no way to be sure and certainly no way to act. The children sat in a dispirited clump, worried looks on their faces. Portia, exhausted beyond all telling, wept silently, supported between Appleby and Cassius.
A break came in the recitation of the dismal news, and then Pan spoke up. "Master... last night, there was light flashing on the horizon and a distant rumbling. You can hear the rumbling even now," he said, and as the party fell quiet the distant rumor of war could certainly be heard. "We prepared a cannon and some rifles. We didn't know what it was. Do you.... did you see anything?"
Appleby turned his thoughts to the wider national tragedy that somehow seemed minor in comparison with the local sadness on Seaward. "Yes, you did well, all of you," he said, "but I'm afraid it is war. The lights and sounds were cannon firing. They are firing on Fort Sumter, trying to reduce it. This will not be the end of it, I am afraid," he said. This new information seemed to add to the burdens of Seaward, and faces became even more dismal.
Then Appleby stirred himself. "My friends, if it is war, as I suspect it is, then this is what we have been preparing for. We have tremendous loss, but if we give in to mourning and do not act the loss will be greater yet. There is work to do. Can someone hitch up the donkey cart and bring it down?" The need for action did immediate good, as the people began to shift the cargo out of the ships and down the pier to the shore. Appleby made himself work, counting on the effort to help dull his pain. Athena announced that she was taking Portia back to the cabins, however, and led her away arm in arm.
The rest of the day was spent in hard work, shifting supplies into storage. Appleby suggested that the condition of the cannon, rifles, pistols, shot and powder be looked to so as to be sure that all was in readiness, and several of the men set about that task. Portia slept through the afternoon, under the care of Athena.
That evening after a light meal, much of the community sat on the verandah. Plans were made for the war which seemed to have come upon them. It was agreed that a watch should be kept on the western side of the island, counting on the buoys installed around the rest of the island to warn intruders, truthfully or falsely, against approaching. Should there be danger or arrivals, a rifle or shotgun was to be discharged into the air, signaling for help. Even as they spoke, the western horizon occasionally flickered with light, and low intermittent rumblings could still be heard from across the waves.
Gradually people dispersed to bed or to watch; Pan and Bacchus eagerly volunteered to spend this first night of war on the western shore, and took up carbines, lamps, and blankets as they headed off into the night. Portia, Cassius, Appleby, and Athena alone remained on the porch looking beyond the soft lamplight into the uncertain night.
Appleby spoke up softly after a long silence. "My mother used to sing me a song, among other songs, when I was a child; I can't remember what meaning this one had for her, but I remember it now." And he sang:
"I see the moon and the moon sees me, the moon sees somebody I want to see, God bless the moon and God bless me, and God bless the somebody I want to see."
His voice choked on the last few words as he reached to clasp Portia's hand tightly. She nodded, tears running down her cheeks. There was more silence and then Athena spoke softly but intensely.
"Marcus will be back, Portia.... master. Don't ask me how I know. Sometimes I know these things. Master Mark, remember when everybody thought you were going to sell us, when you first came here? I knew better, I just KNEW... don't ask me how." Appleby nodded, giving all his attention to Athena. "Well, I just feel this. He will be back. Maybe not the same. Maybe not.... maybe not whole. But he will be back."
Athena's friends did not know why that should comfort them, but it did. Hands were clasped all around and an unspoken feeling of hope began to well up around despair as they sat and looked out into the night.