After the hysteria of the moment, the actual sinking of the Tulip was a simple affair. The ship lay on her beam, hesitating as a lone man left the ship for the safety of a rowboat, then dropped below the surface of the lake, her masts and yardarms following rapidly. Men stood on the shore, watched the bubbles rise from choppy waves and silently coming to terms with the way their world changed. There would be no more supplies with winter closing fast. The shock of finding Colonel Beltram dead was worse. The death of a man so respected added weight to the loss each man felt, their faith in the future cracking. Existence on Coal Island had become a savage battle, claiming the lives of friends and enemies alike.
The colonel’s body laid on his bed in the small cabin Beltram had called home. Men visited the cabin over the next few days, acknowledging the man they had respected and Sergeant Burns, who stood guard over the blanket draped body. They chose a spot to lay the colonel to rest under a large oak tree in the new cemetery. Many of the prisoners used time spent not working to dig the grave and build a stone vault of red granite. It was a labor of love to honor the man who had shown compassion. Robert heard General Cornell lament the shame of the colonel’s death, but it had been a comment muttered to himself, not an observation made for anyone else.
The General had also tried to console Sergeant Burns to no avail; the Irishman remained silent, preferring to tend the colonel in death as he had in life.
Three days after the sinking of the Tulip, the tomb was ready. The survivors of Coal Island placed Colonel Beltram in his crypt, dressed in full uniform with sword and sash, a linen cloth covering his face. They levered a cover stone in place, prayers made and hymns sung.
Sergeant Burns stood by the grave as the men returned to the work at hand. A few hours later, the Sergeant was gone as if he never existed.
Losing the Irish Sergeant brought Lieutenant Pace from the shadows, the young officer waiting for the vestiges of Colonel Beltram to fade before moving to claim control of the prison. The night of the burial, Lieutenant Pace called a meeting of all Union guards.
None of the prisoners came near the heated discussion at the campfire set on the pier, only unintelligible shouts coming across the water as the guards argued. Pace guided the conversation, his words lost in the distance but seeming to dominate the men and force a consensus.
The argument continued till dusk. Robert and General Cornell watched the meeting break up with foreboding, all the men cold as the heat of the day dissipated rapidly. As the Union soldiers passed campfires, they seemed to divide into groups; the Majority following Lieutenant Pace to Colonel Beltram’s cabin while the rest slipped away in the night.
As if expecting a confrontation, the guards took positions surrounding the dead colonel’s home as Lieutenant Pace entered the hut.
“Tell the men to avoid the guards, Major,” General Cornell ordered softly, his face etched with sadness at the rapid turn of events.
“We should send men to the north woods. He’s going to cause trouble.”
“I will reason with him,” Cornell reassured.
“Yes, sir,” Robert beckoned to Corporal Anders, his face clouded with suppressed frustration. The Corporal responded quickly, trotting from a nearby fire to the officers. “Pass the word. We stay for now. No one is to confront the guards or give Lieutenant Pace a reason to hurt us.”
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The Corporal began a circuit of the campfires to pass the orders. In an hour, all the rebels would know the General’s wishes.
Half an hour later, General Cornell bid a good night and walked to his hut, leaving Robert alone and staring at the dying fire. His thoughts were strained. There was no answer to what he had seen on the Tulip. It could not have been Lieutenant Pace, not with those teeth. Yet how could he be certain a man was now in Colonel Beltram’s hut?
Was it even possible the demon had survived the fire...?
Using his booted toe, Robert flicked dirt and stone on the fire. Too many things were changing too quickly over the past few days. Like Lieutenant Pace, Robert had taken to staying out of sight to watch the men and the island. He spoke only when needed, otherwise he hid his thoughts. The new behavior irritated Corporal Anders, but Robert had learned his lesson and was determined to see the truth of this island. He was watching from the shadows, studying Lieutenant Pace.
During the daylight hours, Pace seemed tired but human. It was at night that the evil Pace was plotting. This version of the Lieutenant could be the creature on the Tulip. It made a strange sense.
Shaking his head, Robert continued to bury the fire slowly. This entire situation was foolish. The war was over for the prisoners. They should have been free to survive this damn island.
Robert’s mood was foul, and the fire extinguished by the time Corporal Anders returned and sat next to Robert on the log.
“Everyone thinks the Lieutenant is going to kill us, Major.” Anders reported softly.
“The General wishes we behave with honor.”
“And you Sir?”
“I believe we are on bad ground,” Robert referred to a poor battlefield position. “In this fight, the odds are against us unless we find a better position.”
“The north woods?” Anders spoke after a moment.
“Yes. The trees and terrain will offer shelter and cover. The battle will be equal.”
“No one wants to go there, sir.”
Robert grinned. “Which is all the more reason to take this course of action; the Union boys feel the same way.”
“Bad ground,” Anders repeated pensively. “This entire island feels like bad ground. It doesn’t want us here.”
“The island?” Robert watched a portion of the night sky brighten like the wash of paint brush on a black canvas.
“Maybe,” Anders shrugged. “I don’t know. Hell, sir, sometimes it seems like there are two Lieutenant Pace’s wandering around. Some men still claim they hear screams in the north woods. We haven’t recovered those missing men, and we still don’t know what happened to the Union fellow we found in the lake or to the crew of the Tulip.”
The night sky was coming alive with streaks of color; red, green, and white ropes of descending lines growing longer with each second.
“What the hell is that?” Anders looked up.
“Northern lights Corporal.” Robert attempted to find admiration for the beauty. “Aurora Borealis. I saw them in the Shenandoah Valley with Stonewall Jackson. We thought it was a good omen.”
“Was it?”
“We won the Second Manassas after that. I’d say we were lucky to have survived and I doubt it was a good omen.” Robert stared at the dancing sky. “Pretty though.”
“Isn’t that just dandy?”
“I need two things, Corporal, but you must be silent when searching. Can you do that?”
“Absolutely. What do you need, Major?”
“Find someone who can construct a large log raft.” Robert looked at Anders. “Someone who can build a raft in secret.”
“And the second thing, sir?”
“I need men willing to hunt the Robber King.” Robert’s smile was grim.
“Where the hell can we find it?”
“It will come to us when the time is right.” Robert stood, the northern lights coloring the path as he made his way to his hut, the Corporal following silently.