Джон Джейкс - North and South

She looked skeptical. He drew a breath. "There's one other part of my discussion with the committee members that I didn't tell you about. They asked me to go to London as an agent for the department."

'' London ? Why?"

"Because they know the Confederacy can't survive without food and manufactured goods supplied by others. Mr. Lincoln knows it too. Blockade is a weapon the Yankees will surely use against us. When it happens, there must be counter-strokes. A ship like the Star of Carolina —"

"What are you talking about?" Judith exclaimed, angered and upset. "She'll never get off the ways!"

"I said one like her. Designed to carry heavy armament. Designed for war. A commerce raider. She would roam the earth and do inestimable damage to Yankee shipping." He glanced at his wife from under his eyebrows. "Because of my experience here in Charleston, the department wants me to investigate the possibility of constructing such a vessel in Britain."

"That means we'd have to take the children."

"And be prepared to stay a year, perhaps more." "Oh, Cooper, how can we? The cause is wrong!" "If not already lost," he said with a nod. A flaming vision of Hazard Iron floated in his thoughts. "Still, even though I can't explain my reasons fully or adequately, I feel I must go. No, let me be completely truthful. I want to go."

Again she searched his face. "All right. I detest the idea, and I fail to understand your logic — if there is any. But you know I'd never desert you. I suggest you book steamer passage."

"I already have. We leave from Savannah a week from Friday." He took her in his arms and held her while she cried. Next morning, at the yard on James Island, he saw to the erection of a tall iron pole. When the pulleys and halyards were in place, he watched two of his men unfold a huge flag. It consisted of three broad bars running horizontally; the top and bottom ones were red, the center one white. A field of deep blue in the upper left held a circle of seven white stars.

He was struck by the resemblance between the new flag and that of the nation the seceding states had left. Even while we trumpet our independence, we can't bring ourselves to cut all the cords, he thought as the Stars and Bars rode up the pole, caught the wind, and spread against the sky.

Early next day, on a primitive road in south-central Alabama, a closed carriage bumped toward Montgomery. A dozen trunks and valises crowded the boot and the top. Rex was driving. Inside, Huntoon labored at a polished-oak lap desk. He had finally been summoned to take a minor governmental post, which satisfied him for the moment. Both his post and his influence would not remain minor for long. At that he had been more fortunate than many of the other leaders of South Carolina. Bob Rhett, for example, had been rejected as a candidate for president of the Confederate States because he was perceived as too extreme.

Huntoon was willing to take certain risks to establish himself. All during the final tiresome leg of their journey, from Columbus, Georgia, to Montgomery, he had been writing a memorial to the Confederate Congress. The thrust of it was an attack on the conservatism of the Confederacy's provisional constitution. In language and scope, it was remarkably close to the old Constitution, except that slavery was protected. But, rather remarkably, the new constitution prohibited the African slave trade. That provision definitely had to be changed.

Huntoon's memorial also called for the new confederation to name itself the United States of America, thus demonstrating to the world that it represented the one true constitutional government on the continent. He argued that the Yankees were the ones who had perverted the principles of the Founding Fathers.

At the moment he was stuck on the conclusion. He had written, "We must prove that an aristocracy can govern better than a mob," but he could go no further. Perhaps it was the sight of his wife that distracted him and barred the smooth flow of words.

Ashton was leaning against the interior wall, gazing out the window at the pleasant cotton fields through which the road twisted and dipped. Despite dust and the general disarray produced by travel, she looked extremely fetching, Huntoon thought. He felt a physical response and recalled that it had been more than a month since he had been permitted to enjoy intimate relations. She didn't seem to need that from their marriage any longer.

He cleared his throat. "My dear? I've run aground. Perhaps you can help me frame a felicitous conclusion."

He held out the last of several closely written sheets. Pouting, she batted it away.

"I'm not interested in all that silly jibber-jabber, Jamie."

Under the desk his rigidity wilted. From his expression, she decided she had stung him a little too hard. She leaned over to allow him to feel her tightly bound breast against his sleeve.

"Montgomery will be a wonderful experience for us. What matters isn't the verbiage, the philosophy, but the power we — you can accumulate and use. We waited a long time for this opportunity. We mustn't fritter it away on useless exercises."

She had grown excited; the thought of power always had that effect. If her husband didn't climb as high or as swiftly as she thought he should, there would certainly be others in Montgomery worthy of her consideration. In Montgomery or Richmond, she amended silently; there was already widespread talk about the capital soon being moved out of the cotton belt to Virginia.

The conversation, as well as a long period of self-denial following Forbes's untimely death, had built tension within Ashton. Even if she didn't like her husband very much, he could be used to relieve it.

"Jamie, Jamie — put that silly paper away. Can't you see I've been missing your company terribly?''

"You have? I hardly noticed."

His cynicism was only a momentary pose. With a touch of her hand, she brought him to impatient tumidity. Ashton was a little surprised at the suddenness and intensity of her own desire.

He forced her over against the opposite seat, one hand constricting on her breasts, one groping up her leg beneath her skirts. Dreadful, crude man, she thought. But he would serve. She closed her eyes and imagined a gala ball at which she was presented to President Davis, who was utterly charmed by her intelligence and beauty.

As the coach labored on, Rex scratched his head and leaned out to one side. He was intensely curious about the cause of so many loud creaks and cries from within. But, alas, the angle was wrong; he couldn't see a thing.

That same night, Elkanah Bent stood at the bar in Willard's Hotel.

He was sipping whiskey while he totted up figures on a scrap of paper.

He was pleased by the final sum. After paying the tailor's bill for his new uniforms, he would have just enough left to lease the small flat he had found. Many good houses and apartments had become available in Washington recently; scores of traitorous officers and bureaucrats were fleeing home to the South.

It behooved him to occupy better quarters than a hotel room. His influential friends had secured him a brevet to full colonel, a promotion not at all unusual for a career officer in these days of frenzied preparation for war. Bent only hoped the war would last longer than a few months. Some predicted it would not. General Scott made frequent reference to "the fatal incapacity of the Southerners for agreeing or working together." He said it would adversely affect military performance.

Well, time enough to worry about that. Tonight he wanted to celebrate. A fine meal, then an hour's companionship. He would need to make credit arrangements for the latter, however. He knew one sordid black brothel where it was possible.