The two generals riding to the fore waved back.
“A fine reception,” Sherman said. “I’ll admit I had a bit of worry.”
“I didn’t,” Beauregard said. “When they know why you are with us and where we are going — why you have only friends here. We won’t be marching much longer, either. We’re going to the railhead of the Mobile and Ohio Railway at Corinth.” The two generals rode together at the head of their troops. “I’ve telegraphed ahead for all the engines and rolling stock that can be got together. Flatcars too for the artillery and boxcars for the horses.”
“Any reports on the enemy?”
“Last reported on the outskirts of Handsboro. Now you have to understand the geography of the Gulf Coast of this state. Biloxi is on the end of a long peninsula of land, ocean in front and the lagoon behind. Handsboro is at the land end of the peninsula. If the British plan to move north from there, why that is the best kind of news that we could have. Inland from the coast there is mostly pine slashes and sugarcane country. Before the telegraph operator in Biloxi was killed he got off a message. There were no troops of any strength nearby, but there was some cavalry at Lorraine. They’re spreading out in front of what could be the enemy advance. People are being warned to clear out of the way. There are none of our troops anywhere close in front of them which is fine. I want them to continue their advance.”
Sherman thought about this and a slow smile broke out on his face. “Of course. The last thing we want to do is face them head on and fight them on their terms. You want them to advance so we can get in behind them. Cut them off from Biloxi and their lines of supply. Maroon them in the center of a hostile countryside, then wipe them out.”
“Exactly. Our strength will be in surprise. What we are going to do is bypass them by rail. There is a junction at Hattiesburg where two rail lines cross. We are going to change there to the cars of the Gulf and Ship Island Railway. Then straight south to Gulfport. In this way we will get behind them and cut them off. Hopefully separate them from their ships and their supplies. Run a noose around them — then kill them. That is what we are going to do.”
Sherman nodded. “An excellent plan, excellent indeed.”
They heard the shrill moan of the steam whistle from the train yard when they entered the outskirts of Corinth. The men were in great spirits and cheered as they marched. Smoke boiled from the diamond stack of the engine as she got up steam. Another locomotive waited on the siding ready to make up a second train as soon as the first one left.
“I don’t want to divide our command,” Beauregard said.
“A wise precaution,” Sherman agreed. “I feel it would not be wise to march my bluecoats through Mississippi without you at my side. I suggest that we board one of your regiments and my 53rd Ohio on the first train. The rest of the men, guns and supplies to follow. We will all form up again at Gulfport.”
The telegraph keys clicked steadily up and down the length of Mississippi. All normal railroad traffic was suspended and sidetracked to let the military trains go by. Through the heat of the day and into the evening the trains rolled south. There was some confusion at Hattiesburg when the change from one railroad line to another was made. But the soldiers worked together with good will; the loading finished after dark and the final leg of the journey began. The great kerosene headlight of the engine cut a swath through the darkness of the pine slashes. The soldiers, more subdued now after the tiring day, dozed on the seats and in the aisles.
Gulfport. End of the line and end of train travel. A Confederate cavalryman was waiting as the two generals climbed down from the car; he saluted them both.
“Captain Culpepper, he sent me here to wait for y’all. Said to tell you that those English soldiers have stopped for the night, no more than a couple of miles outside of Handsboro.”
“How far are we from Handsboro?” Beauregard asked.
“Easy ride, General. Nor more’n ten, twelve miles.”
“We have them,” Sherman said.
“We do indeed. We march now. Get between them and Biloxi during the night. Then we shall see what the morning brings.”
The USS Rhode Island did not try to outrun the British warships, probably could not. Instead she tied up at the wharf of Deer Island, guns rolled out and waiting, under the protection of the 30-pounders of the battery. The British ships nosed close, but beat a speedy retreat when the batteries fired a salvo that sent spouts of water close around the
m. When the British ships had rejoined the fleet, and showed no evidence of returning, Rhode Island slipped her lines and steamed east.
Before she had been forcefully impressed into the navy and sent to join the blockading fleet, the Rhode Island had been a coastal ferry. Her engines were old but reliable. With a good head of steam — and the safety valve tied down — she could do a steady seven knots. She was doing this now, her big side-wheels churning steadily, driving her east along the coast at her best possible speed.
“You saw them clear as I did, Larry, didn’t you?” Captain Bailey asked — and not for the first time.
“Sure did, Captain, no missing a fleet that size,” the first mate said.
“And the way that sloop sailed up toward us, bold as brass,” the captain said. “That old Union Jack flapping away top of her mast. We’re at war and there she was running right up to the guns of the battery. Commander should have held his fire a mite longer.”
“I think he hit her a couple of times.”
“May be. At least she skedaddled and led us right up to the others.”
“Never saw an ironside like that English one before.” The captain looked out at the coast of Mississippi slowly moving by. “What do you think? About another four hours to Mobile Bay?”
“About.”
“I’ll bet the admiral will be mighty interested in what we got to report.”
“Every ship in the blockade there will be more than interested. Isn’t the Monitor supposed to be joining them about now?”