Cooper twisted and reached into the dark. The watch fell; he heard the crystal smash as he seized the hysterical man's arm. With his free hand he struck the man's face twice. "Stop that. It will do no one any good." "Damn you, let go — all of us — we're —" "I said stop." He struck a third time, so hard the man's head thudded on the hull. Cooper released his arm. The man kept crying, muffling it with his hands. At least he wasn't screaming. "Thank you, Mr. Main," Dixon said. Alexander spoke. "Sir? I am going to dismantle the pump a section at a time. I think I can do it in the dark — I know exactly how she's put together. It may be that I can reach and remove whatever's fouling her."
"If you do, the water will rush in."
"Give me another idea, then!"
More softly, Dixon said, "I'm sorry. I have none. Take whatever measures you think will help, Mr. Alexander."
So the nightmare continued, more intense than before. Cooper imagined he couldn't breathe. Not at all. Yet somehow he did: thin breaths, each costing him pain. Or was the pain imagined, too? A silence that was almost sharp settled in the submersible, every man listening for the squeak or chink of a metal part being unscrewed or removed and wondering, What does that noise mean? That one?
Cooper groped near his feet for his broken watch. Just as he touched it, he heard a bubbly roar. A man screamed, "God preserve us," and water gushed from the pump, filling the vessel with spray, sloshing along the deck.
Alexander exclaimed, "One minute more — now — there. I have a big handful of seaweed, sir. I think that's all of it. Now I must force the pump back together against the pressure —"
The water continued to rush in. Cooper lifted his left foot and tapped it down. Splash. The man he had struck was moaning again. Cooper reached behind and shoved the man's head against the hull. That shut him up.
Almost at once, he felt bad about treating the fellow so brutally. The man was right; they would all die soon. He had a swift and sure sense of that. He fought to draw a little of the malodorous air into his lungs and, with doubt about the outcome removed, settled down to wait for the end.
He began to review his past life quickly, by-passing the shameful moments and dwelling on those of intense pleasure — as when he had first seen Miss Judith Stafford on the deck of the coastal steamer bringing them both to Charleston long ago. He composed a little farewell speech to tell her how grateful he was that she had married hi —
"Done," Alexander shouted. Cooper automatically looked toward the stern, though he could see nothing. He heard the drawn-out squeal of the pump piston. Then Alexander again.
"She's working!"
"Hurrah," Dixon cried. The crew applauded. Tears spilled from Cooper's eyes as he labored to breathe. He thought he felt the stern lift. Dixon confirmed it.
"There she comes!"
Minutes later, Hunley broke into the moonlight.
Dixon and Alexander attacked the fore and aft hatch bolts like madmen seeking escape from an asylum. Suddenly Cooper glimpsed stars, felt and inhaled sweet, cold air. In no time, the crewmen were briskly turning the crank as if nothing had happened.
Dixon climbed up to peer over the forward coaming. "Only one person left. Can't see who it is."
Slowly, the submersible nosed back to the pier, where Lucius Chickering jumped up and down and clapped and spun round and round with his arms at shoulder level, like some happy bird. Dixon ordered him to stop capering and help tie up the vessel.
"I'm not capering, I'm celebrating," Lucius exclaimed as Dixon worked his way to the bow and flung a line. "The soldiers and townspeople went home after forty minutes. They all said you were dead, but I had this crazy idea that if I stayed — if I didn't give up — that would prove everybody else was wrong and presently the boat would come up. But Lord Almighty, Lieutenant, you surely tested my faith. Do you realize what time it is?"
Climbing out after Cooper, Alexander asked, "How long were we down?"
Cooper raised his watch to his ear. Good heavens. Still ticking. He jumped to the pier, tilted the watch toward the moon, shook bits of shattered glass from the white face. He thought he had misread the hands, but he hadn't.
"It's fifteen minutes before ten. We were submerged two hours and thirty-five minutes."
"I told you, I told you," Lucius cried, grabbing Cooper's shoulders and whirling him. "Isn't it incredible? You were right. She works." Alexander muttered something; Dixon shushed him. "She can sneak out and kill Yankees any time now — Oh." Lucius stopped his gyrations. "I forgot, Mr. Main. One soldier said he was going to General Beauregard's headquarters to report Hunley sunk again. With all hands lost. I'll bet your wife's heard it by now."
"Oh, God. Lieutenant Dixon, well done. I take my leave."
He had begun to do so before the end of the sentence. He rushed toward the rowboat, resembling some great gangly shore bird scurrying on the sand. Lucius jammed his plug hat on his head. "Wait for me, Mr. Main!"
When Cooper reached Tradd Street after his incredible adventure, Judith wept with relief, even though Lucius Chickering's prediction had been incorrect; she had heard no news.
She hugged her husband long and hard. But she still chose to sleep alone that night.
93
"Warden," Vesey said, "that Yank turned on me like a ravening animal. He did so with no provocation but the prompting of his evil disposition. It is your duty, if I may be so bold — your duty as a responsible commander and Christian gentleman to grant me the right to punish him."
Dubious, young Turner thought a while. "I would, but I can't allow that kind of thing inside Libby, for several reasons. One, we've too blasted many Philadelphia lawyers among the inmates. Two, we're getting close scrutiny from that damn busybody who works for Seddon."
"You referring to that one-armed colonel, Warden?"
"That's right. Main. The self-appointed conscience of our prisons. You've seen him nosing around without so much as a by-your-leave from this office." Vesey nodded. "Recently we've been spared his visits — I understand he contracted a bad flux and is confined to his bed. But sure as I say go ahead, he'll recover and pop in here the very day you do."
Vesey looked glum. Then he noticed the slow beginnings of a smile. "Of course, if you could find some way to conduct the, ah, disciplinary lesson away from this building, I could issue a temporary release order, which you could destroy afterward with no one the wiser."
Vesey leaned forward, his smile twice as broad as Turner's.
"Should you need helpers in this — I mean to say, if there are witnesses," the warden continued, "they must be absolutely trustworthy."
"No problem there, sir."
"If you mark him, it must appear to have happened accidentally."
"I guarantee it.'
"Then I'll prepare the pass. Before I hand it to you, I'll want to know your plan in detail."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!" Vesey said, fairly clicking his heels as he saluted. "You'll have the information practically right away, I promise. Thank you again, sir."
"Pleasure to help out." Turner was still smiling. "You're an exemplary soldier, Vesey. Wish I had more like you."
That conversation took place on the thirtieth of January. On the first, Vesey returned, glowing with excitement. Catching the corporal's mood, Turner asked, "Well? How are you going to do it?"
"With a caisson borrowed through my cousin in the artillery of the Department of Henrico. A caisson and the roughest road we can find. My cousin's the one who suggested the idea. He told me the Yanks use it on serious offenders all the time. Good enough for them, good enough for us, I say."