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Seaward Plantation
War clouds chapter nine
When Mark Appleby awoke the next morning, next to a soundly sleeping Aaron, he slipped quietly but quickly from the bed. There had been little sleep the night before but nevertheless he was fully energized by the new perils and demands that Bundit's return had brought. Tugging on trousers to go down to the bath room, Appleby stepped into the second floor hallway. Behind the closed door of the last bedroom, his Aunt Lucy's old room, Hammond and Samuel evidently slept still, as did Bundit in his room. But the other doors were open. It was clear that Pan and Bacchus, Cassius and Hector, were likewise up and about.
Appleby bathed and dressed quickly. Water on the bricks of the bath room told the tale of others there before him. He found the twins eating a simple breakfast on the verandah.
"Did you have trouble hiding the boat on the eastern side?" he asked.
"No, master, it is pulled well up onto the beach and covered with branches," said Pan. "If it storms we should check it again, but it is alright for the present," added Bacchus. Appleby nodded.
"I think we need to plan. Someone may come from the mainland looking for Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond. We are violating the law," he said, "for which I don't care a fig personally, but some may think they have grounds for coming ashore to investigate a crime. We must not allow that," he added, grimly. "Although if it comes to that, Robert Ashley certainly violated the law in taking Bundit, but.... but getting other authorities to see it that way may be difficult," he added in a more subdued voice. "Pan, Bacchus, would you be willing to spread the word that we need to meet? I think perhaps Apple could be asked to lead the three boys down to keep watch while we are talking; please ask her to come down to the pier as soon as possible. Rain is tired from watching with Cassius, I suspect, and Moss of course is too young." The twins agreed and were off, while Appleby strode down to the pier
Cassius and Rain still kept guard, the little girl no less vigilant than her father as she perched on the cabin roof of the Hesperus, carbine tight in her hands, scanning the sea. Appleby thanked them and sent them on their way to rest. He picked up the spyglass and surveyed the sea, but saw no movement on it near them. A sail or two spiked in the distance, and a few lines of smoke bespoke steamers entering and leaving the harbor, but nothing came their direction.
Turning over thoughts in his head, he heard the sound of small feet...marching, not running. Down the embankment came Apple at the head of her troops: Frederick, Douglass, and Wat. Each carried a carbine or shotgun over a shoulder. They, too, had taken firearms practice during stormy nights and knew how to use these weapons. A new light...more mature, more serious, even deadly, had entered Apple's eyes. She marched down the pier and stood next to Appleby, looking out toward the sea. A wave of love, and fear for her future (and that of the other children on Seaward) rushed over him, and he hugged her tightly, then released her as befitted her new martial duties.
"If you see anything coming toward us...even if you are not sure but think it might be coming....ring the bell. Do not use the guns unless you must, but if you must, shoot to kill," said Appleby. All four of the children nodded seriously. Could they fully understand what was at stake? If matters continued on the current course they might have need to grow up quickly. Appleby thanked them all and returned speedily to the hay barn, where the adults were gathering to share coffee and make plans. Bundit and the visitors were still asleep, it was reported.
Appleby cleared his throat. "My friends, I need not explain the seriousness of our situation to you. I feel that we will survive, but we are in peril. Robert Ashley might not necessarily suspect that his three slaves came here, but since Bundit went with them, the conclusion may well be inescapable. I suggest that we deny a landing to anyone we can." The adults nodded in agreement, that being an easy conclusion to reach. "There may be some who try to land who cannot reasonably be denied entry onto the island....someone in a position of civil or military authority. It may be best to try to pacify them than to fight, for to fight is to make a breach once and for all with the mainland. I suggest that if anyone lands, we find Bundit, Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond immediately and hide them. The cellar, among the wine, might be the best place; surely I can deny a search of my own home to anyone."
Troy spoke up. "Master Mark, do you think we will have to fight? Will it come to that?"
"We must be ready for it, Troy," said Appleby. "If it appears that we must fight, then we must do so with all our strength. There can be no compromise." A quiet settled on the group as they considered the truth of that statement. Then Priam spoke.
"I suppose everyone must decide for themselves," he said, "but I will not be taken prisoner... not be taken as a slave. I will die fighting, and if I cannot do that then I will kill myself at the end." Shocked looks went around the group, but first one and then another of the group nodded agreement. Into the silence that followed, Troy dropped this heavy stone:
"We must decide what to do about the children. I.... I cannot see them taken away or sold off into slavery, I will not see that. I agree with Papa and would rather die fighting for my own lot. For the children... I think we must be strong so that, if it comes to that they are not faced with that end, of slavery. You all know what I mean. I hope... I hope we would have the strength to do what would have to be done." Cass and Juno began weeping softly at the thought, but the other women, mothers all, looked first thoughtful and then determined. They would live free or die, every one.
"Now, then, let us plan!" said Appleby, energizing the group and raising their glum spirits. For the rest of the day, contingency plans were to be rehearsed for any manner of attack from any direction, although they trusted in the natural and artificial barriers of submerged stones, reefs, and buoys around the island to bar any approach from the eastern side. A couple of hours into their planning, Bundit and the newcomers arrived, refreshed from their sleep. They were fully apprised of the plans and had their own ideas of strategy to contribute. It was clear to Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond that their own lives were now entwined with the fate of Seaward, and looks of grim determination crept over their faces.
A watch was set on the highest point of the island, the cemetery, in addition to the pier. A rough wooden shelter was built there and stocked with spyglasses, water, and firearms. All the rest of the day was spent in planning and preparation, with but hurried breaks for meals. A new watch was sent down to relieve Apple and her warriors at the pier, and these older children were told of the plans afoot. Each child had an assigned part in the plans, every one was given a station to man should there be an attack.
Chores, the tending of crops and livestock, was delayed that day as much as possible until into the evening. The people of Seaward came to understand the new arrivals as both a strain on and a contribution to the island's resources. Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond joined in all the work with a passion and energy. They well understood that Seaward was now the only home they could claim, and that dangers surrounded them, so they worked to make their only chance succeed. As they hoed the vegetable plots or tended the livestock that evening, the people of Seaward revealed the wonders and mysteries of the island to them. The three were astonished. They had all experienced kindness at the hands of Appleby, but they had no idea just how radical the community was for its time. For their part, the people of Seaward made it clear to them that they would be expected to learn to read and write and to speak properly as befits free people with minds of their own.
Troy, Priam, and Hector were to take the shifts on the watch down at the pier for the night. Appleby took the first watch at the cemetery and Aaron promptly volunteered to relieve him in the night, declaring that he was plenty rested and eager to be of service. The rest of the community tumbled exhausted into their beds while those keeping watch scanned the sea with eyes and spyglasses in search of threats.
The sea was calm that night and the clouds that hid the escapees the night before had parted. The moon was still just a sliver, though, so the night was dark. Appleby sat on a large stone by the cemetery, pinching himself to keep from nodding off to sleep, not entirely with success. Exhausted from the previous night and day's relentless round of preparation, he stood to walk around, flapping his arms to revive himself. Every now and then a distant ship would pass, but none that seemed interested in the island.
Some time after midnight Appleby heard footsteps in the dark and Aaron emerged into the enclosure of headstones, carrying a lantern. His exotic good looks had matured but not changed fundamentally over the years that Appleby had known him: a dark, long, leopard-like face under straight black hair, his features still bespoke some ancestry in addition to Africa. "Masta Mark," he said, greeting Appleby. "I come as soon as I could, you mus' be real tired." Appleby nodded.
"I am; thank you for coming to take my place. Did you have trouble finding it?"
"Naw, suh, jes' followed the path. Masta.... befo' you go....I jes' wanna say thank you."
"Aaron, you knew we would take you in here, didn't you? You are welcome, and I am grateful to you for bringing Bundit."
Aaron stepped closer to him. "Yes suh, but I mean, thanks fo' everything. You's known me fo' a long time, and you was always real kind, masta. Like....like I was as good as you. An' now to have us sleep in the house, an'...an' me in the bed...." he trailed off, a look of sincerity above a wide grin.
Appleby put an arm around his shoulder. "Oh, Aaron....what a world. Of course you are as good as me. I won't say you are 'just like me,' nobody is, and I wouldn't want it that way. Maybe some day nobody will think anybody else is not as good as they are, and surely not for reasons of appearance."
"You think so, really, masta? Some day?"
"Some day, Aaron," he said. "Likely not in our life times, but some day."
"I talked to some of the people here...mebbe that day is here on Seaward."
Appleby hugged him tighter. "I hope so, Aaron, I do. That's why we have to defend what we have here, we just have to." Aaron slipped his arm around Appleby as well and the two stood like that for a moment, looking out onto the sea. Aaron cocked his head at Appleby. "You wan' me to do somethin' nice fo' you, masta?"
A small rush of desire warred with Appleby's extreme exhaustion. Then he thought about what they had just discussed, about the slavery from which Aaron had just come, the endless bondage that he had faced and might--if all were lost--face again. Appleby thought it must take a long time, maybe even generations, to reverse the effects of slavery and the ways of thinking slavery required, but that one must make a start. Or, if he had made a start with Aaron in his own way some years ago, he could continue the journey.
"Aaron," he began, "everybody here has determined to live free or die. That can include you. You are now free. You are not a slave while you are here on Seaward, you are a man. So," he continued, turning to embrace the hard, muscular body next to him, "some time, soon, yes you can something 'nice' for me. But only if you want to. Right now, let me do something nice for you." Cupping Aaron's head in both hands, running his fingers into the helmet of thick, straight, jet black hair, Appleby kissed him gently on his full lips, then nuzzled his face, his nose, his almond eyes. Aaron sighed loudly and hugged Appleby tightly. A lifetime of being exploited was beginning to ebb away, each act of kindness, each gentle caress, each small freedom given and taken was another wave clearing away the sand of slavery.
Appleby pushed back a little and pulled Aaron's shirt off of him. The pads of muscle on the chest, the firm hills that rolled up and down his abdomen, shone lightly in the moonlight. Appleby slid down Aaron's body, biting his neck, licking his chest and sucking gently at his nipples, down the valley in the middle of the chest and into the belly. On his knees before the black man, Appleby looked up, winked, and said "You're on watch!" Aaron smiled hugely and looked out at the sea but held the white man's head in his dark brown fingers, entangled in the shoulder length brown hair.
Appleby unfastened Aaron's trousers and pulled them down, then his undergarment. A thick, dark brown penis sprang out from beneath a bush of course black pubic hair, arched slightly up and curving down at the end. Appleby pulled the dark, wrinkled foreskin back completely, freeing the lighter, reddish brown dickhead which was now moist with precum. He slipped his pink lips over this knob, moving them back and forth, rubbing the top of the head with his lips as Aaron moaned and tightened his hips--but still kept a lookout on the sea. Appleby reached his hands around to dig fingers into the firm, prominent butt muscles.
The white man cupped the dark brown ballsack in his hands, gently kneading the testicles inside that were now drawn up underneath his penis. He moved his head forward, taking the rigid shaft into his mouth as far as it would go, and began moving back and forth. Aaron sighed, moaned, whispering "masta, masta" as Appleby picked up the pace of the stimulation. Behind his groin, in his thighs, deep in his gut, there gathered a vibration, a coil of energy. Then a tidal wave burst forth from deep inside him and he cried out, shouting "O! masta, masta" over and over, squeezing his hips tightly and letting the wave flow over him, out of him, and into the white man kneeling before him.
Appleby knelt there until Aaron was completely spent, licking and sucking the swollen penis until it was clean. Then he pulled up the undergarment and trousers, carefully fastening them as they had been. Rising to his feet, he held Aaron by the black man's upper arms and looked into his face. Tears ran down the dark cheeks from dark eyes that looked deep into Appleby's own. They both just nodded at each other, smiling, having exchanged a gift beyond words. Appleby kissed him lightly on the lips and said, "This is your home, Aaron. Keep watch over it." A look of serious determination came over Aaron's face, and he said "I will" with steel in his voice. Appleby squeezed his shoulders once more and then slipped off down the path to take his rest.
The next day Bacchus had the watch on the cemetery lookout in the morning. Helen came to relieve him, and he asked her to observe the movements of a small sailboat that stood well out from the island but that appeared to be circling it. It had appeared several times that morning in what seemed to be a clockwise movement around the island. The spyglass revealed two or perhaps three men, probably white men, on board. Helen took up her post as Bacchus ran down to the main house to notify the others. When he arrived he found Portia, who had just come off of the watch on the pier, arriving with the same news. Appleby, Hector, and Troy ran up to the cemetery lookout to see for themselves.
"I cannot tell anything from just looking at the boat," said Troy, "but perhaps we should double the watch at the pier. It is there that they will land if they mean to, in all likelihood." This plan of action was agreed to. Bundit, Aaron, Samuel, and Hammond were put on notice to keep away from the pier and to hide themselves should there be a warning. They took over the chores of the day while the people of Seaward prepared themselves for a confrontation should it be necessary. Priam went to join Cassius on watch at the pier. Care was taken to ensure that the cabins of the Harmony and the Hesperus each were stocked with firearms and ammunition--they could serve as floating forts if need be. The large raft, still holding coal for the Harmony, and the Harmony itself ran along one side of the pier, while the Hesperus was so positioned on the other side that any approaching craft would have to dock at the very end of the pier, creating a gauntlet for intruders to run as they came onto the island.
The morning wore on and lunch was just over when hearts froze all over the island: the ship's bell from the pier was ringing. This contingency had been planned for. Appleby went running as fast as he could, joined by his friends in groups of twos and threes. Arriving at the pier, he saw Priam and Cassius quickly slip into the Harmony and Hesperus respectively; he knew they were taking up arms there. Appleby heard rustling behind the stone walls covering the cannon and knew that his friends were taking up positions there. Alone, he walked to the middle of the pier and stood next to the upright post that held the ship's bell. Not far away, closing in as fast as the breeze would bring it, was a small sailboat.
Nobody called from the boat as it approached. It glided up to the pier, bumped it, and two white men leaped out to secure it to the wooden uprights at the very end of the structure. Out of the boat and onto the pier stepped a tall, powerfully built white man, at least six feet and two inches tall. He had greasy brown hair under a battered hat, a scar on one cheek just above a scruffy beard. Despite the warmth of the day, he wore a long canvas duster. His heavy boots clumped on the pier as he took a few steps, then stopped.
"My name is Redfield. I am a bounty hunter. Lookin' for some niggers. I got orders from the sheriff," and here he pulled a paper from his pocket and waved it to the side, "to search this island for runaway slaves."
"There are no runaway slaves here, sir," said Appleby. "You may not land. Please leave at once."
"You must not have heard me," said Redfield, a look of cruel enjoyment spreading on his face, "I got orders from the sheriff. And I done landed already. Now, you gonna step aside and let me and my men come ashore." At that he moved his duster aside and produced a sawed-off shotgun from beneath it which had been hanging from a leather harness. The two men with him stepped up a few feet behind him. They, too, had suddenly produced what seemed to be shotguns.
Appleby did not move. He spoke quietly but with a steel in his voice that carried it down the half-length of the pier. "Sir, I am Lieutenant Appleby of the South Carolina Militia. I and my servants...let me repeat that, my servants as well, sir....are empowered to defend this island in the interests of the State of South Carolina. We were so empowered officially by the Militia and by General Beauregard himself. You are now standing on a fortification of the Militia. As commander here, and as owner of this property, I judge that you do not serve those interests of South Carolina. I don't give a damn for the sheriff or that piece of paper or, frankly, for you, sir. Return to your craft and leave at once."
The air was electric. Appleby had not mentioned that he was also a lawyer, and a good one, who had made the defense of Seaward in all dimensions his only practice for over eleven years. Redfield looked uncertain at Appleby's claim of military status. He was a man accustomed to shoot and punish first and let better educated bureaucrats worry over the details of legalities later. He decided to push his way through this entanglement in that manner now. Redfield lifted the twin barrels of the sawed-off shotgun to hold it across his chest, and with his right thumb he clicked the two hammers back. His thugs behind him did the same.
"I got a paper from the sheriff," he said, bull-headedly, "and I mean to come ashore." He took one step forward.
Appleby stood stock still except for his right arm, which reached behind the bell post and pulled out his own double- barreled shotgun, already cocked, which in one quick motion he aimed directly down the center of the pier toward Redfield and his men. It was a signal that had been agreed upon by the people of Seaward. At that moment, it sounded as if a rain of pebbles had descended on that part of the island.
Redfield's eyes, riveted on Appleby's shotgun, swiveled around at the odd sound. It was the sound of twenty hammers being cocked. To the left and the right, Priam and Cassius popped up out of the cabins of the Harmony and Hesperus, each with two double-barreled shotguns in hand, all eight hammers cocked back with eight fingers resting on eight triggers. From behind the stone walls rose the Seaward army, carbines--better suited to the longer range--cocked and aimed. When Redfield's astonished eyes returned to Appleby he saw not only the shotgun aimed at him but also a Smith & Wesson revolver, pulled from his belt. Redfield's stubbly face broke out in sweat and he took an involuntary step backward. He muttered something to his men, who turned quickly, one stepping back into the boat, the other making ready to release the rope securing their craft to the pier. Appleby was yearning to indulge himself in words at the moment, a powerful store of invective building up in him, but he simply stood in silence, his weapons still pointed down the pier.
Rage warred with fear in Redfield's face. Then he, too, slipped back toward the boat, his shotgun still at the ready. Keeping his eyes on the many barrels pointed toward him, he nodded at his accomplice who slipped loose the rope. Both jumped onto the boat and pushed off.
The craft had gone only a few dozen yards out but had just caught a breeze when Redfield stepped up onto the stern of the boat and roared at Appleby. "You ain't no white man, you a nigger lover, that's what you are, an' y'all gonna die! You cain't git away with this!"
That did it. Appleby charged down the pier at top speed and as he reached the end of it discharged both barrels of his shotgun at once in the direction of Redfield. The bounty hunter saw what was coming and dove for the deck, as did his thugs, as a hail of buckshot shredded the air around them. The recoil from discharging both barrels twisted the shotgun up and out of the single hand that held it, and it landed on the pier behind Appleby. Cassius and Priam took an extra moment to aim their shotguns and let loose with four deliberate volleys each, aimed right into the sails and rigging of the boat. Great rips and holes appeared in the canvas as shot and shreds of cloth exploded out of the back side of the sails. A stay snapped and flailed like a whip as it came thudding down onto the deck.
From the line of stone walls the carbines now roared. Appleby's revolver joined the assault. Redfield and his bullies were under cover, lying flat on the deck, but the wooden hull and mast of the ship took many a lead bullet that rained down upon them. Splinters flew from every impact. Equipment that wasn't tied down on decks jumped into the air or over the side into the sea at the multiple impact of lead. The sound of the shotguns and carbines had been deafening, echoing in the shocked silence that followed. A great cloud of black powder smoke rolled away in the wind.
"Enough!" cried Appleby, raising his hand in the air. His well trained troops quickly reloaded and then raised the muzzles of their weapons skyward and waited. By that time the breeze had pushed the craft farther out and, fortunately for Redfield, was naturally carrying the boat west toward the mainland. Slow minutes passed. The boat limped away, lines and torn canvas flapping, the mast at a crazy angle, until it was far enough out of range so that the men could be seen creeping out from cover to try regaining control of their vessel as well as they could. The First Battle of Seaward Island was over, and Seaward was victorious.
Everyone kept stone silent as Redfield's vessel limped away, and then with one voice they roared in triumph. "Soldiers" emerged from behind the stone walls, Priam and Cassius came up out of the boats, and everyone milled around laughing, weeping with joy, exclaiming, and talking all at once. Looking back up the embankment Appleby saw frightened faces looking out from the line of trees. It was Bundit and the Ashley men, and also the Seaward children, who had come running at the sound of gunfire. The children were armed, as was the plan, but frightened. Appleby beckoned them all forward and they joined in the tumult, a dozen voices competing to recount the story of the great fight.
Appleby himself was thinking outside the present moment. Taking Priam aside, he asked him to restore order as soon as the people had celebrated and vented their feelings. He dispatched Apple to the cemetery to inform Helen as to what had happened. He went with her as far as the main house, where he flew into the study and began writing a letter. Deciding that the best defense was a good offense, he was addressing it to the colonel to whom he reported as an officer in the Militia, bringing charges against Redfield for attacking a fortification of the State of South Carolina. He copied his lawyer, Horatio Smith. At worst, the action would throw the authorities into confusion over what had happened and what to do. At best, they would arrest Redfield for treason and bring a halt to the search for the runaways. Running back to the pier, Appleby passed many of his friends coming back up from the beach, still excited and chattering happily. He found Troy and asked him to take the letters out immediately to try to intercept the mail boat going into Charleston.
"Take Pan and Bacchus both with you, and make sure they are well armed," said Appleby. "If the boat is going toward Charleston they cannot have heard of our fight today, so it's likely alright, but let's not take chances. We need for these letters to get to the authorities for legal reasons. But, please! do not put yourself in any kind of harm's way passing off the letters or receiving any."
Troy and the twins pushed off immediately, all three of them armed to the teeth. The remaining adults sent Apple and the boys to the cemetery watch, then gathered around the pier to meet as they watched the sea; from there they could also monitor the Hesperus as she sailed out to find the mail boat. The exciting events of the afternoon were discussed, everyone's performance evaluated, and plans for improving procedures were laid. Firearms were unloaded and cleaned, made ready to fire again at a moment's notice. By the time they were done, the Hesperus had returned with the usual mail and no untoward incidents to report.
Chores occupied the rest of the day, keeping the community working into the evening. Plans were made for expanding garden plots into every available patch of land on Seaward, for planting fruit trees in meadows so as to increase the production of food. They were taking the long term view. Watches came and went on the pier and the cemetery.
In the evening, lessons in literacy began for the new arrivals from Ashley Plantation. They had been learning the ways of Seaward in every activity throughout the day, and were eager to blend into the community as well as they could. Only when books dropped from sleepy hands did everyone retire for the evening, although not without some fear for what the night might bring.
Appleby and Aaron had both bathed before going to bed, so grimy were they from the day's activities. They tumbled into bed and naturally rolled together, cuddling as cool summer breezes from the open window blew over them. They were lying like spoons, Aaron on his side and Appleby close behind him, one arm flopped over the younger man's belly and the other under his neck and crooked back up over his chest. As tired as he was, the closeness of Aaron's firm body, the feel of his smooth skin, the clean smell of his freshly washed hair prompted the beginnings of an erection in Appleby. Feeling a hardening rod against his buttocks, Aaron craned his head back, smiling.
"Masta, wan' me to do somethin' nice now? Like you did las' night?"
Appleby chuckled and hugged Aaron tightly. He pushed his hips forward a bit, his penis growing harder from the contact as well as the invitation. "Aaron, how nice. Aren't you tired? I know I am." In answer Aaron reached a hand back and slid it along Appleby's hip and upper thigh. Appleby sighed. "Aaron, I have to say this....I have to know that you know....you are not a slave here and you do not have to do this, not for me and not for anybody. You are your own man now, and your body is your own. Yes, I want you, but not as a slave....I want YOU, as a man."
Aaron turned over to face Appleby, pulling the white man in toward him again with one hand while the other brushed his long brown hair away from his face. "I know, masta... I reckon it'll be hard to really unnerstan' that fo' a while. But I think I wanna do somethin' nice fo' you....make you happy, like a gift I can give you." Appleby leaned forward and kissed Aaron between his leopard eyes. "Then, yes, that would be lovely," he said. "And it would be a very special gift from you, for you to do that as a free man....as two free men together."
Aaron gave him a soft, lingering kiss on the mouth, then pushed the sheets down and reversed his position in the bed, kissing Appleby on the chest and belly as he traveled down to the rigid red cock which had risen up. Aaron grasped the shaft and squeezed, pulling the skin down and exposing the head of the penis which had a pearl of precum on the end. He slid his hand up and down the shaft as Appleby sighed. He slipped his lips over the dickhead, nibbling it, and then took the whole cock into his mouth. He began moving his head up and down, tonguing the rigid penis as he went.
In the meantime Appleby slid his hand underneath Aaron's pelvis which was lying by his chest to grasp the dark brown penis. Aaron raised his muscular, rounded, flat-sided bottom up to accommodate the white man's hand, even as he shifted over a bit to lay his chest halfway on Appleby's belly. Appleby now slid his hand up and down the thick shaft as it hung down to the bed while Aaron moved his mouth up and down over Appleby's cock. The white man had a wonderful view of the dark brown, reddish-tinged bottom just above him and to the side. Faster went his hand and faster went Aaron's mouth. At last Appleby cried out "Aaron! O, Aaron, I'm coming, O!" and pressed his hips upward as his penis gushed semen into the black man's mouth. Even before he was finished, Aaron groaned, his mouth full of Appleby's organ and semen, and his thighs and belly tightened as his own ejaculation shot out onto the bed and the side of Appleby's hip.
As they both recovered, Aaron pulled off of the penis, swallowing, and shifted around to lie next to Appleby. Utterly exhausted, Appleby pulled Aaron close to him, caressing him, running one dry hand through his hair and one semen-slicked hand across his shoulders. No more words were necessary as both men floated away on the soft waves of exhaustion and afterglow.
The sun rose onto the semblance of normality the next day, and the day after that. Indeed, July rolled around and there was no more contact from the mainland, although mail seemed to come both ways, to and from Charleston. The people did not exhaust their vigilance, although waiting and anticipating was tiring. Everyone wanted to know what would come next.
It was in the second week of July that Bundit, keeping watch on the cemetery lookout, sent down word with Wat that a sailboat was circling the island again. Appleby and Hammond went rushing up to join him, and everyone trained a spyglass on the ship. Appleby lowered the glass from his eye. "It is the Swan," he said. "Yes," said Bundit, and it is Robert Ashley. Look, in the stern, you can see him clearly." All three looked again and saw that Bundit was correct. In the stern was Ashley, in his fancy naval uniform, holding his own spyglass. The ship was just outside the ring of buoys, courting disaster to come in so close. Bundit informed his friends that the ship had circled the island at least twice during the last two hours. As they spoke, it made off around the southern tip of the island. Appleby realized that it might well be headed for the pier.
"Ring the ship's bell, please, Bundit," he said, nodding at the twin to the bell on the pier, "and then you and Hammond need to find Aaron and Samuel and the four of you should hide." Appleby and Hammond ran down the path with the sound of the bell behind them. They spread the news to those they met, alarmed at the sound. Everyone took their stations assigned to them, but Appleby was thinking furiously as he ran down toward the pier. Meeting Troy and Priam on the way, he spoke to them panting as they ran.
"Troy, Priam....I think we will not be able to deny Robert Ashley a landing on the island as we did Redfield. He has military status, and I cannot play that card with him. But he seems to be arriving here in his own private boat, not in any vessel owned by the Militia, such as the Saluda. I propose we allow only him ashore. I can handle him on my own. You two and the others should be ready to keep his servants no nearer than the pier."
Everyone agreed to that plan. Arriving at the pier, Troy and Priam discussed the matter with the others who were there. It seemed wise to send most of the people back to their everyday chores so as to maintain a semblance of normality. "And remember, everyone," said Appleby, "we must pretend to be an ordinary plantation if anyone comes ashore. Talk as little as possible. Stay out of Ashley's way. Keep the children out of sight and sound. But be seen yourselves going about doing chores and so forth....in the distance." As everybody was nodding their agreement, Cassius sounded a low alarm from the end of the pier. The Swan was definitely headed toward the landing.
Troy and Priam were casually sitting on the cabin roofs of the Hesperus and Harmony, while Cassius was lolling about on the pier, when the Swan bumped up against the pier and was secured to an upright. Their firearms were close at hand but out of sight. Pan and Bacchus appeared to be hauling new stones up to the walls in front of the cannon; their firearms were likewise hidden but handy. Three slaves, whom Appleby did not recognize, leaped onto the pier in securing the Swan, and waited for their master. Robert Ashley swaggered down off of the deck and onto the pier, brushing a speck from his uniform. Appleby was there to meet him.
"Appleby, my good fellow, so good to see you again," Robert said, extending his hand. Appleby had to remind himself to take it cordially. "Yes, I heard all about the unpleasantness with that fellow Redfield. Not a gentleman, of course. Quite right to send him away from a military site. Well!" he said, smiling like a shark, "here I am, military, to look for those runaways. Happened to be mine, as you know."
Appleby did not fall for the trap. "No, I did not know that, Robert. Well, there are no runaways here so you needn't bother."
"Oh, so sorry, but I have permission from the colonel and the magistrate," Ashley said, pulling a paper halfway out of his jacket, then returning it. "They might be hiding somewhere, you know. Well, let's proceed!" He took a step to the side to move around Appleby. His slaves likewise made as if to follow him. Troy and Priam leaped lightly off of the boats and onto the pier, between the slaves and Robert, joined by Cassius.
"Are you questioning my word as an officer and a gentleman, sir?" asked Appleby in a quiet, steely voice. Robert looked back at his slaves, at Troy and Priam, and replied "No, no indeed! As I said, they may be hiding somewhere."
"Then I will look for them myself," said Appleby. Robert's eyes flashed.
"I have legal permission, Appleby," he said, with quiet determination, "as a military officer."
Appleby thought quickly. "Very well, then I will accompany you on your search. Your servants are not in the Militia and will remain here."
"No, they will accompany me," said Robert, his voice rising. Appleby held his gaze.
"My servants there at the end of the pier were specifically questioned and authorized by General Beauregard and the Militia to defend this island. As, by extension, were the rest of my servants. Yours were not. Your servants will remain here, sir." And at that Appleby whisked his jacket aside to reveal the revolver stuck in the belt.
Robert of course carried no such weapon as that would have detracted from the appearance of his uniform. The Smith & Wesson caught his attention. Swallowing hard he looked over Appleby's shoulder to the end of the pier, where Pan and Bacchus now stood, looking casually at the sky and the sea....each with a double barreled shotgun by his side. Through clenched teeth he gave in. "Very well, sir, let us proceed," Robert said.
Striding quickly, Robert marched down the pier and up the embankment. Appleby was but a step behind him, winking at Pan and Bacchus as he passed, looking back to see that Troy, Cassius, and Priam had likewise produced their own shotguns and that Robert's servants, with little inherent loyalty to their master, had eagerly returned to the Swan. At first it seemed as if Robert would try to simply outpace Appleby, but it was hopeless, for his life of dissipation gave him no advantage over the habits of hard work in sea air that were Appleby's.
Robert strode across the meadow and up the lawn, looking widely to the left and right at the buildings. Appleby bowed slightly and gestured with a flourish toward the outhouse. "Perhaps you should begin your search there, sir," he said. Robert took a step toward it, realized what it was, and blushed scarlet. Without a word he stalked off toward the barns, going through every corner of them, then into the kitchen. He plunged into each of the cabins but each was completely empty. Everywhere he went, watchful eyes kept ahead of him and cleared his path, and Appleby was on his heel.
Perspiring in the summer sun, Robert's "search" became more frantic and less systematic. "It is hopeless, hopeless," he muttered under his breath, then caught himself as he realized that Appleby likely heard him. His hair hanging damp over his forehead, he looked this way and that again, then said, "Your house, sir," and stormed off in the direction of the largest dwelling. Appleby easily outpaced him and put himself in the way.
"Surely I would know whether there are runaways in my own house. There are none, sir. Think of the consequences of doubting me in that, sir," he said, lightly placing his hand on the butt of the revolver. The tense air was as brittle as glass as the two stood there staring each other down. Years of intimacy counted for nothing now, their relationship draining away to the last drops. Then the tension shattered and Robert turned on his heel, his shoulders hunched and head thrust bullishly forward, heading toward the pier.
Appleby dogged his heels the whole way, across the lawn and meadow and down the embankment. The Seaward people were again casually lounging around the pier; they had made their point and the Ashley people were happy to take it. Robert clumped down the pier in a fury as his servants began untying the Swan from the pier. At the end he turned on his heel, a ghastly false smile on his face. "Oh, my good fellow, I almost forgot; commanders of local posts are to meet the first Friday in August to review plans. See you then, Appleby." He jumped onto the Swan and it was pushed off.
As the vessel caught a breeze and moved off toward the horizon, the people of Seaward came forward in twos and threes, down from the center of the island. At the last, when the Swan was hardly visible, the Ashley people and Bundit came out of the line of trees as well. Everyone discussed the day's events in as hopeful a tone as they could muster, but it was useless. It seemed as if they had won the Second Battle of Seaward Island, but perhaps they sensed at a deeper level that, in fact, they had lost it.