Witch hunt, p.1
Witch Hunt, page 1
part #4 of JTF 13 Series
Witch Hunt
By Casey Moores
Three Ravens Publishing
Chickamauga, GA USA
WITCH HUNT By Casey Moores
Published by Three Ravens Publishing
threeravenspublishing@gmail.com
P.O. Box 851 Chickamauga, Ga 30707
https://www.threeravenspublishing.com
Copyright © 2021 by Three Ravens Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
For permission requests, contact the publisher listed above, addressed “Attention: Permissions”.
Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Credits:
Witch Hunts was written by Casey Moores
Cover art by J.F. Posthumus
Witch Hunt by: Casey Moores, Three Ravens Publishing, 1st edition, 2021
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-951768-40-9
Unit Thirteen Hymn
From the swamps of Roanoke Island
To the shores of Saint Augustine;
We fight the unseen evil
On the land, and on the sea;
First to fight for faith and prudence;
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
Of Unit Thirteen Marines.
Our flag's unfurled to every breeze
From dusk to rise of sun;
We have fought in every wretched place
With Bowie knife, axe, and gun;
In the muck of cursed southern lands
And in moonlit battle scenes,
You will find us always on the job
The Unit Thirteen Marines.
Here's health to you and to the Corps
Which we are proud to serve;
In many a strife we've fought for life
And never lost our nerve.
If the Union Navy or Army;
Ever look on Hell’s minions,
They will find the gates are guarded
By Unit Thirteen Marines.
Chapter 1: Holding the Governor
“B
y God, Marines!” Major Reynolds shouted above the din of the crashing waves. “I know you feel whipped, but we’re not played out yet! The only thing holding this damn ship afloat is the strength and grit of United States Marines, and, by God, I swear that’s all we need! Now come on, keep to it!”
Our ship, the Governor, was sinking.
Reynolds was the battalion commander for the expedition. As I’d served under him at Bull Run, there was no other officer I’d rather had to lead us through such a desperate situation. The other marines and I struggled in the belly of the beast, ropes lashed about its ribs in a desperate fight to hold the bloated creature together.
“You heard the Major! Hold to!” I shouted for my men of Company C. By rights, our young, new lieutenant led the company. Our original commander, Captain Lewis, had been struck down in an incredible accident when a barrel, of all things, flew off a train. The lieutenant merely sat to the side fighting his illness and stared at us. For the duration of the crisis, true leadership of the company fell to me. When Major Reynolds came by to check on us, he made a show of speaking to the lieutenant, but locked eyes with me as a clear sign as to whom he truly spoke. Turning my head so the men wouldn’t see I was the one to respond, I informed him we would hold forever if need be. With a nod of approval, he headed off to other companies.
After he’d left, I attempted to speak with the lieutenant.
“Sir, perhaps a few words would encourage the men?” I lied.
“Damn the Big Bugs, Sergeant, damn them to hell,” he replied. I failed to see what the admirals and generals had to do with our immediate situation.
“Sir?”
“We should’ve been spread all around the fleet, Sergeant,” the lieutenant said. “But some fool general saw a couple damn Confederate guns, wanted to keep us close to the far shore, and instead here we are, all the eggs in one basket, loaded up on a miserable ship for sea going. It’s a river boat, for God’s sake, and this storm will be the end of us. Then this Great Naval Expedition will have no marines left. The Union will never take Port Royal without us, but no matter to us because we’ll be dead. . . swallowed up by the ocean.”
Though I agreed, it didn’t seem like the time to dwell on it.
“All right sir, you rest here a bit and I’ll see to the men,” I said. I did my best to nod respectfully and turned to go.
“See there!” the lieutenant said. He pointed to a man who stumbled down the stairwell. It was the ship’s civilian captain, and he did not stumble due to the storm. “Captain’s gotten himself properly wallpapered. Whole damn crew’s of no account, but it wouldn’t make any difference anyway.”
“Yes, sir, but Master Weidman’s taken the reins and he’ll keep us afloat until help can come. Private Smith knows how to work the pump, and we’ll hold the hog braces together as long as we can, sir. Major Reynolds will see us through this, sir, we just need to keep the faith.”
“By all means, Sergeant,” the lieutenant said. He gave a feeble wave toward the men and turned his head aside. I returned to the men.
A tremendous crack and bang, followed by a long hiss, heralded the collapse of the smokestack and the bursting of the steam pipe. Men leapt aside and we suffered a few injuries, but we’d lost all power to the pumps. The bucket brigades became the sole source of bailing out the ship, and Company C was directed to join them.
Major Reynolds had the horse sense to fire off the distress rockets, but to no avail. Later, something on the engine blew. The smarter marines had no sooner jury-rigged the thing back to operation, when we lost the rudder chain. The rudder head itself broke next, and we were completely subject to the inclinations of the sinister sea. I’ve no knowledge of God’s will, but the storm seemed personally opposed to our journey.
Exhaustion took on new meaning as the several hundred marines aboard the ship worked into their thirty-sixth hour. The storm had begun to threaten the civilian steamboat Governor, chartered by the US Navy, at ten o’clock the previous morning, and on the night of 2 November, 1861, nearly three hundred United States Marines still labored to hold the poor ship together.
Over the course of the next day, several smaller ships came by in hopes of a rescue. One attempted to secure a hawser, a thick rope, with which to steady us and perhaps transfer men, but those efforts failed. Another ship assured us they would stay with us to the end. This roused a cheer from some men, though I failed to see how that would help.
Major Reynolds came by with the news that the USS Sabine would soon be there to take us aboard. This, finally, lightened my spirits and gave renewed strength to myself and the men of Company C.
The frigate, as promised, arrived as the sun was setting yet again. It laid anchor next to us, and successfully secured two hawsers to hold us together. The turbulent seas continued to pound the ship, which necessitated an excruciatingly slow method of transfer. A single marine secured himself to a spar with a chain and was passed between the boats by a rope pulley. A mere thirty of our three hundred were moved before the hawsers tore apart. Some of the Navy sailors aboard the frigate leapt across to re-secure them. Unfortunately, the greatest of our hawsers became snagged by the stem of the Governor and cut clean through. They tried to secure a chain, but the pitch of the seas became so fierce that even the chain snapped.
Someone called for us to heave on the last hawser. The boats drew together, and dozens of marines leapt across to the Sabine as they did so. One unfortunate boy, Private David Sampson, fell between the ships. Some might claim it impossible, but even above the noise of the shouts, waves, and crashing hulls, I heard the crunch of the poor marine’s bones when the ships pressed together.
As the ships drifted apart, I spied the officer who directed the men on the frigate. His eyes focused on the water between us. Something caused a look of sheer horror to overcome his face and he shouted for the hawser to be released. With trepidation, I allowed my eyes to fall to the water.
I never considered myself a gullible man, a superstitious man, nor one easily shaken. That said, what I saw in that moment horrified me to my core. At first, when I recognized the immense, dark shape, I thought something had simply spilled into the water between the ships, like tar or some other viscous thing. Then, arms reached out of the water. They were not the arms of a man, or any other creature I had ever seen, but tendrils, like the roots of a tree, which sprung from the water. Lined up on one side of each arm were little circles. In school, I’d learned of the octopus and the squid, but never seen one in real life. What I saw seemed far more sinister than those plain sea creatures. Pure evil, spawned from hell, had risen into the gap between our ships.
As the two ships drifted apart, a few more marines made a desperate leap from the Governor. They had no reasonable chance of jumping the distance, but I imagine they all jumped with the confidence they could swim the distance and be safely helped out of the water by the crew of the Sabine. As I watched them run to make their leap, I shouted a frantic word of warning, but none heard me over the tremendous noise. Six men splashed into the water, and I thought it would be the end of them at once. The group included my hapless lieutenant, but I did not recognize any of the others. A small part of me was thankful none of the others were from C Company.
One by one, their heads bobbed back up, and they all stroked their way, undisturbed, through the turbulent sea toward the Sabine. I could not see the strange creature I thought I had seen. For the briefest moment, I found myself gaining hope that I’d imagined it, that the six men might make their destination.
I was wrong.
The tendrils returned to the surface, tentatively at first, but then, hungrily. One rolled up in a spiral and smoothly snaked itself around one poor private at the rear of the group. My hand went to the cross I wore on a necklace under my shirt, and I screamed at the top of my lungs, but no one on the other ship seemed to hear me. I searched the rails of the Sabine with the desperate hope that someone witnessed the same as I, but all seemed focused on keeping their own ship afloat. The crew aboard the other ship appeared wholly unaware of the six swimmers. The officer I’d seen on the Sabine had retreated from the railing, perhaps in shock or disbelief. Then, I surveyed the attention of my own shipmates to see if I watched this horror alone. All others were too occupied in struggling with the failing Governor.
Helpless, I stared as the tendrils engulfed the next swimmer, pulled them below, and returned to grab another. When the process started, I knew only that they disappeared into the darkness below. However, as the creature pulled the fourth marine below, concentric rings of teeth became visible just below the surface. The marine screamed in increasingly greater intensity as the rings of white pulsed upwards along his body. When they reached his midsection, something snapped inside, he spasmed, and then went limp. The screams alerted his two remaining fellows, who scrambled to swim faster. They shouted for help, but to no avail. The dark, sinister sea beast seemed to sense this, and grabbed the last two simultaneously. The lieutenant maintained a free arm which he used to pummel the tendril without effect. The tendrils completely constricted the arms of the other man, so he could only wriggle about. Both struggled in vain.
Something bumped against me. I found Major Reynolds next to me, offering a rifle.
“I’ve kept them dry,” he shouted. “There’s no hope for them, Sergeant, but we can give them a quick death. I’ll not make you shoot your own officer, besides, prudence forbids it. You help see to that poor soul, and I’ll relieve your lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.” The words escaped my lips, as if from someone else. Dumbfounded, I nodded and retrieved the rifle from his hands. I brought it to my shoulder and braced as best I could against the railing. Soaked to the bone, I found no good reason to bother choking back the tears as I took careful aim. I didn’t think I could do it, in fact, I almost decided I should not. Good Christian men and United States Marines did not shoot their fellow man, much less their fellow marines. While this struggle churned within me, those vicious rings of teeth returned, just below the surface. The beast’s tendrils maneuvered my fellow marine toward them.
“Now, Sergeant,” Major Reynolds said.
I aimed and fired. A part of my soul slipped away. The report of Major Reynold’s rifle followed shortly after. The man who’d led us all at Bull Run straightened. Gently, he took the rifle from my hands and cradled both rifles in his left arm. Though the Governor still rocked violently, he maintained his balance well enough to hold out his hand to me.
“Fine job, Sergeant Phillips,” he said, as I took his hand and clasped it as hard as I have ever clasped another man’s hand. His gaze scanned the topside of our ship. “Tend to your company now. It’s yours until I can find you another lieutenant. . . which may be a while.”
His expression indicated that something flashed through his mind. A look of concern, or perhaps comprehension, came over his face, as if some distant, ancient memory floated to the forefront to make a connection he’d never before made.
“I’ll make inquiries,” he eventually said. “I think I know the right man. Anyway, go tend to your Company.”
I stared mournfully into the water for a brief moment, and then turned to go as ordered. The major caught me by the arm and dragged me so close that I almost retched at the overpowering fish, whiskey, and tobacco on the major’s breath.
“One last thing, Sergeant,” the major said directly into my ear. “Not a word of this to anyone. No good will come of it. And don’t worry about the ships, I don’t think it’ll pull us down. But. . . if this ship sinks before we get everyone off of it, well, you know what’ll happen. Go to your men and keep this damn ship afloat ’til the other captains can figure out how to help us.”
Chapter 2: Escaping the Governor
T he ordeal on the Governor only lasted a few more hours, and the beast did not show itself again. The seas calmed and our struggle to keep afloat eased somewhat. Light slowly crept over the horizon when a call rang out.
“Marines! All officers, report to the deck! You too, Sergeant Phillips!” I heard Major Reynolds announce. I stumbled wearily up the stairwell from inside, made my way past the bucket line, and found the officers assembled near the starboard railing. Their attention focused on something in the water. I felt the color drain from my face, and my stomach turned. Curiously, none seemed perturbed by what they saw. Trembling, I approached the rail and came within hearing range of the major’s directions. A boat awaited in the water, with a few eager sailors staring up at us.
“—down there will haul each of us aboard,” the major explained. “The captain of the Sabine claims they have no more suitable hawsers, and he cannot risk drawing us close, even if he did. Thus, the sailors down there recommend that each man tie themselves to a rope, throw the other end of the rope to them,” he gestured two the boat, “and then jump into the water,” his eyes contacted mine, and we shared a grim, apprehensive look, “where they will haul him onto the boat. When the boat’s full, they’ll take the load to the Sabine, unload, and return for more.”
The officers nodded their heads and smiled. Reynolds and I stared into the water with dread, searching for any sign of the evil creature.
“Sir, is that all?” a pale-faced lieutenant asked.
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Major Reynolds answered. “You get A Company moving, then B,” again, he made eye contact with me, “then D Company. Orderly Sergeant, you keep the rest of C Company bailing until everyone else is off, and you take up the tail. Everyone understand?”
“Yes, Major!” we all responded. Doing my best to hide all signs of fear, I walked away from the rail and returned below deck to my bailing marines. I told myself that, if the creature were to surface and resume its assault, screams and shouts would alert me. For a few more incredibly long hours, I led the Marines of C Company in the futile attempt to rid the failing ship of seawater. In the back of my mind, I imagined the beast so vividly I could feel its tentacles pull me into those pulsing rings of teeth. Every crack against the hull drew my attention.
“Orderly Sergeant Phillips!” Major Reynolds bellowed. “That’s it. C Company is off last!”
My stomach twisted and churned, and then tightened into a heavy lump, like a cannonball.
“C Company! Your work’s done, on deck!” I repeated. “Time to be saved!”
Though my head knew the call meant that the entire battalion preceded us without incident, I could not help but imagine the creature guzzling me down, with snaps and crunches of my bones. Numbly, I marshaled my men to the deck and ordered them to do as directed. Even as I watched them go, one by one, I could not shake the feeling of a condemned man awaiting his turn for execution. On the bright side, my tremendous fear held my exhaustion at bay.
“That’s it, Sergeant,” the major relayed, grabbing my elbow and shaking me from my stupor. “You’re the last. You and I know it is the height of cowardice for us to be the last two, but appearances tell the men, who know no better, that this is an act of bravery. If I could go before you, I would. But consider this, I can encourage you to make that plunge. Once you’re gone, there will be no one here to do the same for me. Moreover, if I were to jump first, you would then be required to make the leap on your own.”
