September arrived with foul portents. Private Holm disappeared as an intense storm descended on the island.
Certainly, Private Holm was not the only man to disappear; four Confederate prisoners and an additional Union guard vanished as well, but Holm’s loss so soon after his tale of the Robber King gave more weight to the story. The colonel’s hope of rational thought ruined by frightened men sheltering in the few huts, where forced confinement allowed only talk. The common topic in the cramped smoky rooms was the Robber King.
Robert spent his time with the door of his small hut open to the wind while watching the angry water of the lake. He had seen southern lakes during storms, but this was different. Water piled up in huge gray waves that swept ashore, threatening to destroy all they could reach. The lighthouse causeway and docks remained buried under waves that crossed the land without hindrance.
The granite roads and parade field shone like blood in the thick rain. Robert now understood why rocks dominated the island. Most of the soil washed off the island. Watching the rivulets of water race past his hut gave Robert the impression nature was intent on washing men from the island.
Rain put a stop to the nighttime sightings of Lieutenant Pace, but, as suggested by the disappearance of Private Holm, strange things were still happening. The daily meeting with Colonel Beltram was strained, perhaps beginning to believe the Confederates were to blame for the hardships faced on the island. The prisoners felt otherwise, most watching Lieutenant Pace closely.
It was hard to tell the men this was not so when the Lieutenant seemed to radiate hatred. More Union men joined Pace’s informal army each day and returned Confederate caution with overt anger. This aggression by Union guards only spurred the construction of shelters in the north woods to a faster pace.
Sitting on his bunk and staring out the open door did nothing to quell Robert’s fear of the future. Waging war was hell, but this was a completely different sort of nightmare.
Brief showers of ice in small pellets joined the rain. The ice spoke of towering clouds within the storm. The weather matched his mood. Shortly after dawn, Robert saw one of the few things that could cheer him up, a sail in the distance that he hoped was the Tulip. As the morning progressed, the ship neared the island at a snail’s pace, fighting its way against the wind. It could only be the intrepid Captain Marsch fulfilling his promise to help the men trapped on Coal Island.
Robert could only imagine the conditions on the deck of the brig as she fought the waves and wind, a constant motion and deluge of water mixed with nausea and fatigue. At this pace, the Tulip would reach the island by early evening. Near noon Robert donned his thick gray coat, the laced gold braids of rank still bright, and made his way slowly to Colonel Beltram’s hut, a lone figure walking along the rain swept island. Robert knocked on the cabin door, then entered to find General Cornell keeping the Colonel company while Sergeant Burns tended food cooking in the fireplace.
Sergeant Burns handed Robert a cup of coffee with a warning glance only Robert saw. “Major,” the colonel politely spoke. The friendship of the past months had dissipated rapidly over the last few days. Even the colonel’s attitude towards the General had chilled somewhat, to Cornell’s disappointment. “I am informed three more men vanished during the night.” “Sir,” Robert shrugged, the coffee held in both hands as he allowed the steam to rise to his nose. What could he say about the missing men? “I see the Tulip is coming.” “Welcome news,” General Cornell breathed.
“Yes,” Beltram nodded. “I wish to tend my apology, Major. You were correct about the disappearances.”
Taken aback, Robert could only nod as the coffee threatened to burn his hands.
“However, this does not remove the fact that you deliberately hid information from me.” Both General Cornell and Robert stared at Beltram. “Were you involved with the death of a Union soldier?”
“Sir?” Robert now understood the Sergeant’s warning glance.
“I am told you know of a soldier’s death, perhaps more. I believe I have performed honorably towards the prisoners on Coal Island. Considering the honor of your own behavior during the flood and the high esteem in which you are held; I am giving you the opportunity to defend yourself.” The colonel seemed more tired than angry, as if this was a problem that had claimed his attention for too long. “I am told a few days after the flood, an incident occurred. Can you please explain?”
“Two days after the flood, several men came to me with the report of a Union body pulled from the lake.” Robert recited calmly. “The dead man had burns, with a partial healing of the wounds and several large bite marks. Because of tensions, I felt it was better to return the man to the lake and avoid the possibility of retaliation against the prisoners who found the body. I did not report the incident to you, Sir because I fear for your health.”
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“You had nothing to do with the death?” Beltram asked firmly.
“Can the men present verify your account?” General Cornell attempted to help.
A moment of thought brought a shock to Robert; only he, Sergeant Burns, and Corporal Anders were still alive. “Only one of them is alive, sir.”
The colonel looked away as he considered the replies.
“Major Kane reported to me Martin,” General Cornell regretfully drawing the Union officer’s surprised gaze. “I recommended silence as well. While we do fear for your health, we also fear the man who would replace you.”
“On you honor, Major,” Beltram looked sternly at Robert, “you had nothing to do with the death.”
“He was dead when I saw him, on my honor.” Robert touched a hand to his chest.
“This is a problematic, gentlemen,” Colonel Beltram exhaled and leaned back in his chair, accepting a cup of coffee from Sergeant Burns. “Lieutenant Pace made the accusation.”
“The Lieutenant was not present when we examined the body,” Robert felt a burn of anger. “I saw him shortly after I returned to camp, as all of us have seen him skulking about the camp during the dead of night.” Robert paused, then redirected his thoughts. “At best, the Lieutenant’s mind has broken. At worse, he made a false report intended to divide the spirit of cooperation between Union and Confederate forces.”
“This is the very situation we sought to avoid.” Cornell bowed his head.
“I understand this General. however well-meaning your actions, I am still the commanding officer of this prison and must act in my better judgment.” The colonel tilted his head and cocked an eye at Sergeant Burns. “Who do you trust, Andrew, the Major or the Lieutenant?”
“Not my place, sir.” Burns remained stern.
“An Irishman refusing to speak?” Beltram mocked gently. “I do believe hell may freeze over. I seem to recall you were missing on the night in question. Were you helping the Major? Does your Black Irish heart favor the Confederacy?”
“Permission to speak freely,” the Sergeant spoke firmly.
“You’ve never needed it yet.” Beltram turned his gaze to the Confederate officer’s. “Tell me your mind, Andrew.”
“In the old country, families fought, much like this war. We have seen many men, from hero to coward. Men reveal themselves to all during troubles. The Major is a hero while the Lieutenant is the worse type of coward.”
“Did he not distinguish himself during the flood?”
“He was there to arrest the Major,” Burns quickly rejoined. “He is capable of heroic acts, but his heart is that of a coward. Pace will continue to sneak about and attack from the darkness. Given a choice between good and bad, he will choose bad.”
“You trust the Major,” Beltram surmised.
“With my black heart.”
Beltram chuckled, his respect for the Sergeant obvious. “While I understand your motivation, major, it would have been good of you to confide in me. I wish I had seen the body. With the wounds partially healed, we have another problem.”
“Where the man was for the two days before found,” General Cornell observed.
“Yes,” Beltram nodded, “and how did it get burned?” “Could he have fallen into a campfire?” Robert sought.
“What did Corporal Anders find on the west wall?” Sergeant Burns forcibly interrupted.
“Dung,” Robert shrugged. “At first, I thought it was a mixture of gunpowder and paraffin, but it stained my fingers green. It was dung.”
“I heard an explosion,” the Sergeant persisted. “The explosion that destroyed the west wall could have burned him.” “I was on the wall, Sergeant,” Robert thought about the event, “there was no heat and no concussive detonation. There is no proof the Lieutenant set an explosive charge.”
“Gentlemen, I must ask why you suggestion my lieutenant took part in a wanton act of destruction. Is that not what this argument implies?” Colonel Beltram asked.
“He hates the Confederacy, and he hates being kept away from the glory of battle.” Robert replied.
“A personal reason,” General Cornell clarified.
“No Sirs,” Burns interrupted again. “What he seeks is the destruction of everyone but himself. He hates what he fears.”
The conversation paused, the officers remembering men who fit the same description. The damage a frightened man could cause was incalculable and could take any form.
“Point well taken, Sergeant,” Beltram conceded courteously. “I am inclined to believe the Lieutenant is as dangerous as you all suspect. His accusations were those of a petulant child, but it is our duty to raise the caliber of his character. Yet this may be a useless endeavor. What shall we do with Lieutenant Pace?”
“Send him with the Tulip,” General Cornell said decisively, brooking no argument when the safety of the prisoners was in question. “Tell him he must coordinate winter supply efforts, anything to get him off this island.”
“Major,” Colonel Beltram looked at Robert.
The logic of the past few weeks came to mind, yet Robert was hesitant to suggest the near mystical behavior of Lieutenant Pace. By facts alone there was nothing definitive to blame on Pace, only circumstantial evidence. If Robert proclaimed the haunted nature of Coal Island and a suspected link to Lieutenant Pace, Robert would ruin any credibility he possessed. Unfortunately, the feeling Pace was at the heart of the problems on Coal Island would not go away.
“He is a Jonah, sir,” Robert replied hesitantly. “Be the curse with him or on those near him, Pace is a Jonah. The men on this island will be safer with the Lieutenant stationed on the opposite shore.”
Beltram nodded, understanding the reference with no difficulty. “I shall order exactly that. Young Mr. Pace will leave Coal Island on the Tulip this very day.”