Parade was called in the morning, men gathering at the parade ground only to be forced into formation by aggressive Union guards. The congenial atmosphere of mutual existence was gone to be replaced by terse commands and foul glances.
The Confederate prisoners orientated to Colonel Beltram’s hut where hull timbers from the Tulip wreckage had been used to construct crosstrees.
All the soldiers had seen the punishment trees used more than once. A man was tied to the crosstree and whipped, beaten, or shot, depending on the severity of the offense.
The Union guards had constructed five crosstrees overnight.
Standing with General Cornell at the head of the formation, Robert knew he was seeing the rise of Lieutenant Pace’s hatred; now there was nothing to stop the boy’s destructive nature.
The Jonah was now the Commandant.
Prisoners were made to wait, all of them aware of their shrunken ranks. The odds of winning a fight with the Union troops had been far better before the quarry flood.
Lieutenant Pace emerged from the commandant’s hut and strode grandiosely to the parade ground, choosing a spot in front of the punishment ranks to stop and face the prisoners.
A low murmur crossed the ranks of the formation as men realized Pace was wearing Colonel Beltram’s coat with the rank insignia still on the shoulders.
“The unfortunate death of Colonel Beltram places the responsibility for this camp in my care. I wear the coat of a great man to symbolize and inspire my performance in this duty. I pray we all survive this war whole of mind and body.”
Robert tensed, sensing what was to come after the hopeful statement.
“We must acknowledge the loss of the Tulip and the position her sinking places us. We must ration our food until a dependable replacement supply vessel arrives. Our food will be stored in a warehouse tended by Union guards. It will be rationed.”
“Winter is coming. We must now assure shelter for all guards and prisoners. The barracks must be built immediately; however, we will construct no more cabins.”
“Also, we must complete the lighthouse to aid in contacting passing vessels as well as using signal fires for the same purpose; we must not rely on the notion waiting will provide an answer from the Federal authorities. I consider this a priority in our survival and expect all projects to be completed after the lighthouse.”
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“There will be no fraternization between guards and prisoners. There can only be one authority on this island if we are to survive. While the suggestions of senior Confederate officers will be heard, the responsibility for Coal Island rests on my shoulders, so the decisions will be mine.”
“The crosstrees behind me are a reminder of my authority. The rules are simple; no murder, no theft, no assault on Union guards, and no escape. These rules are for your health and our mutual survival. Violators of these rules will end on a crosstree with the ultimate punishment of death reserved for theft of food and murder. I do not believe punishment will be required, but I will not ignore any violation.”
“A new supply ship will come. We must hold faith in God that this is true. We will survive.”
Lieutenant Pace stopped speaking abruptly, searching the prisoners with hard eyes, ready for disagreement or insurrection. True to General Cornell’s order, the prisoners remained silent, none giving Pace reason to use the crosstrees.
“Dismissed.” Lieutenant Pace walked back to his hut.
Robert remained motionless as prisoners shuffled off to work. He stared at the red granite, hands clasped, as Corporal Anders waited nearby.
“Major?” General Cornell walked slowly to Robert.
“Sir?” Robert spoke without looking up.
“What ails you?” Cornell inquired.
“I feel defenseless, Sir.”
“How so?”
“The Lieutenant has announced his intent to kill us and I feel there is nothing I can do to stop him.” Robert responded bitterly.
“We must cooperate.” Cornell was intent, passionate. “We must walk with the devil and survive at his pleasure. Give him no reason to anger.”
“I understand, sir.” Robert looked at Cornell, a trace of madness in his eyes. “I also understand the devil will lower his standards until a simple sneeze will produce a death sentence. Any delay in pursuing our survival will end in our death. At the very least, please allow us to prepare for the fight to come.”
“No,” General Cornell angered, then regained his temper and lowered his voice. “You have your orders.”
“Yes Sir,” Robert gave a slight nod then walked away from the general. Once again, his face was neutral, an enigma for Union soldiers to solve. Yet the anger remained in Robert’s eyes.
He could feel death coming, a senseless death that was frustrating because they could avoid it.
Tall waves from the storm of the previous day prevented working on the lighthouse, giving Robert a reason to balk at Lieutenant Pace’s bridle. Oddly, the Lieutenant made no appearance to challenge the work stoppage on his favorite project.
They devoted the rest of the day to barracks construction.
They were building three structures; one for the Union guards and two for the prisoners. Each building was one hundred paces long and twenty-five paces wide. A steep roof constructed over cleared ground, huge logs steepled and latticed together, then boarded over with rough cut planks. Pine boughs laid atop the roof to added water resistance. The stencil inside the barracks was hardly tolerable.
Each building could house two hundred and fifty men on the raised floor and pallets. Four fire pits centered under vents in the roof provided ample heat for the enclosure. For the prisoners, the conditions were far better than the hardship experienced in the Army of Virginia.
Despite the comfort, that night when Major Kane prowled quietly and Lieutenant Pace appeared sporadically from the dark, the battle-hardened southern men still felt fear.