Stowaway in Time

Jack join the Union? He has no abolitionist views.”
“I’m not an abolitionist,” Jesse protested.
“That’s not what my father says.”
Jesse ignored the jibe. “This way we have a stake in both camps. No matter which side wins, our family should survive.” More importantly, the Weber property would survive. Even now he hoped Jack was part of the army opposing him. If so, he might be able to use his influence to ensure Janet’s safety and keep the Yankees from firing their home.
“I don’t know. Sounds like cheating to me.”
They turned and headed west, guns on their shoulders. Most of the residents had already fled the town, including the secessionist leaning state legislature, of which his father was a member. The legislature had headed to western Missouri and then to Arkansas when it became clear the Confederacy could not hold Missouri. He hoped his sister had joined him, but suspected she had followed their father’s instructions and was staying close to monitor the house.
“All is fair in love and war,” Jesse said after a moment, but inwardly he agreed with Cole. A man should fight for what he believed in. Problem was, in a civil war, things got murky.
A shell landed several yards to their left, exploding in a rain of debris. Both men flinched as mud and shrapnel splattered their already grimy uniforms, but they were too far away for any real damage. Another explosion, followed by a scream, told them someone else had not been so lucky.
“It’s worse today,” Cole said.
“Heard it from the captain the Union brought in some bigger guns and extra troops.”
“When are we going to get the reinforcements the general requested?”
Not soon enough. General McCown had sent out the call for help, but much of the Confederate Army in the west was bogged down in Tennessee. “We can’t hold the town much longer.”
“So what then? We give up? Surrender?” Cole swore and spit to the side. “Not if I have any say in it.”
“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have any say, then.”
“You might want to sit the war out in a foul Union prison, but I don’t.”
“We shouldn’t have to wait too long for an exchange.” Though being a soldier wasn’t as glamorous as he had expected when he enlisted, he’d rather fight than rot in a cell somewhere. Fortunately, since neither side was equipped to deal with thousands of enemy prisoners, captives were regularly exchanged.
A private ran up to them. “We’ve got orders. One of you is to continue patrol while the other reports to the general.”
“I’ll go,” Cole said.
Jesse nodded his agreement. He knew Cole chafed at the boredom of sentry duty. He didn’t mind it. When the shells weren’t flying it gave him time to clear his head and when they were—well he didn’t see how Cole could find that boring. He continued his slow march around the perimeter. Both sides continued to launch shells at one another, but none struck too close and as dusk crept into the town, the barrage dwindled and died off. Soon both camps would batten down for the night, though sentries would continue to stand guard, peering through the inky blackness, looking for unexpected movements by the enemy.
A shape moved in the growing dark, but Jesse’s eyes were well adjusted and he recognized Cole and another soldier. “What did the general say?”
“Tommy, here, is to relieve us. We’re to get what rest we can before pulling out tonight.” Cole’s shoulders drooped.
“Where we headed?” Jesse asked, unsurprised by the decision to retreat.
“Across the river. Some of us will reinforce Island #10 and the rest will join the regiments stationed on the Tennessee shore.”
Jesse’s stomach lurched. He’d hoped they would march south or west. He disliked crowding onto the transport boats, the river curling dark and deadly beneath his feet. They won’t sink. Sweat broke out on his brow despite the chill of the evening. The boats wouldn’t sink, unless the Union detected their movements and launched shells against them. No, the land artillery wasn’t in position to cover the river and with Island #10 solidly in Confederate hands, the Union navy was stuck upriver and out of play.
They returned to their quarters and bedded down. Jesse couldn’t sleep. He dozed lightly, trying not to think about the muddy waters of the Mississippi closing in over his head. He wasn’t the only soldier that couldn’t swim, but as far as he knew, he was the only one with a cowardly fear of drowning—a fear he intended to keep strictly to himself.
The army roused a few hours later, taking only what they could carry and abandoning the rest. As the men gathered by the river, waiting for the boats to take them across, the wind picked up and thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Where are the damn boats?” Cole muttered.
Lightning lit the sky, highlighting the transport moving their way. “There,” Jesse said.
“One boat? We won’t all fit.”
Jesse swallowed. It began to rain, cold drops splattering. He hunched his shoulders beneath his coat. “There must be more coming.” Lightning flashed again and thunder followed, closer now. In the brief window of light, he saw no other boats.
The deluge increased. Wind whipped the men’s faces, making it difficult to see except when lightning illuminated the night. Thunder crashed amid the orders yelled by their commanders.
“Load the guns!”
Men struggled to push the heavy artillery onto the boat. Others, panicking about being left behind, swarmed the transport, shoving people out of their way.
“Come on, Jesse. We’d best get aboard while there’s still room,” Cole said.
Jesse couldn’t move. His feet froze to the ground. Another flash and he saw the men piling onto the transport like ants on a tossed bone. There was no sign of additional boats.
“Jesse, did you hear me? We have to go now!” The sky lit again, followed almost immediately by a booming crescendo. Cole grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the boat.
Jesse stumbled, but allowed Cole to lead him. He moved through the press of men, sticking close