Carried Forward By Hope (20 page)

Matthew had already given his blanket and coat to a sick soldier he found shivering on the hurricane deck, so he just hunched his shoulders against the cold rain and turned his thoughts south to Richmond. The people he cared about most were all in the brick home high above the city streets. It was easy to imagine the warmth and flickering lights, the laughter, the easy conversation. His heart ached with longing, but as he thought of all the stories he would have to tell when he landed, he knew he wouldn’t have chosen to be anywhere else. The knowledge helped a little as cold seeped into his bones.

To keep his mind occupied, he stared out over the steamer from his position on the bow. The pilot house, where the pilot manned the wheel, crowned the steamer’s superstructure. Beneath the pilot house were three decks: main, boiler, and hurricane. Matthew frowned when he realized the
Sultana’s
upper decks were sagging under the mass of passengers. He knew that light, flimsy wood had been used in the construction to help reduce the weight of the boat so they could carry more cargo.

On the main deck lay a battery of four boilers, each measuring eighteen feet in length, and filled with steam and boiling water. Matthew had already located the small patch used to repair the leak before they departed from Vicksburg. With nothing but silence to occupy him, Matthew thought over what he knew about steamers. A boiler on a steamer contained, at 150 pounds of pressure, enough energy to hurl the boiler over two miles into the air. The heated water in the boilers had about the same energy as a pound of gunpowder. The idea of them exploding was terrifying.

He pushed that thought away and continued his examination of the boat. Beneath the boilers was a coal-burning furnace running nearly the breadth of the steamer. Constant firing was necessary to maintain the steam in the boilers. Matthew shuddered when he thought about the other boats on the Mississippi that had caught fire and burned up. As he stared out over the crowded, sagging decks, all he could do was hope the
Sultana
had the ability to reach Cairo.

“Can’t sleep?”

Matthew looked up as Joseph settled down next to him. “No. You?”

“Nope. Just thinking about getting home in a couple days. I learned to get along without much sleep in prison.”

Matthew thought about the long nights of lying sleepless on the cold floors of Libby Prison. “I know what you mean.”

“Where are you headed after here?” Joseph asked.

Matthew smiled. “Back to—”

He never finished his sentence, as the world around him exploded into flames, hissing steam, and the screams of dying men.

******
 

At almost 2:00 am on the morning of April 27, three of the
Sultana
’s four boilers erupted with a volcanic fury that resounded across the countryside.

The force of the explosion threw Matthew against the bow railing. He lay gasping for breath as heat and smoke swirled around him. His mind told him there had been an explosion, but the reality was not truly registering. Until the noises began to filter through the madness…

Screams ripped through the night — death cries rising through the air.

Hissing steam provided a backdrop as the decks of the
Sultana
cracked and collapsed from the weight of their human freight.

Matthew’s breath choked on a cry as the massive smokestacks toppled and crashed onto the decks and the men who lay in their path.

Flames shot through all of it, outlining the hundreds of bodies strewn around the decks.

The screams…
They were constant and never-ending.

Live coals and splintered timber shot into the night sky like fireworks. Matthew watched in horrified wonder as the pilot house flew into the air and fell into the dark water that now glowed like a lantern, illuminating the bodies already bobbing around the destruction raining down from the sky.

The frantic neighing of horses, the braying of mules, and the squeals of terrified hogs added to the cacophony of sound.

Matthew stared in fascinated terror as men, lucky enough to have lived through the blast that hurled them into the frigid water, held on to pieces of wreckage or floundering horses.

He shrank back against the railing as boiler fragments, pipes, bricks, and machinery flew through the air with killing speed. He barely dodged a piece of timber that impaled a wide-eyed soldier just yards from his position. Matthew could only be glad the soldier died instantly, his blank eyes staring in his direction before he slumped over on the deck.

Matthew held his fist to his mouth to stop the nausea as bodies and dismembered limbs flew through the air to land in heaps all around him. He bit back a cry as a bloody leg landed just inches from his own.

He could do nothing but continue to stare as men, their clothes burned or blown from their bodies, stumbled out of the steamy fog, their skin charred and burned. Their faces gaped in contorted screams as they dived over the railing of the destroyed steamer to escape the flames. His horror grew as he watched them sink beneath the black waters.

His terrified gaze was wrested back to the boat as the screams of men trapped beneath burning embers rose on the wind and then slowly died away.

Another voice gradually cut through his horror.

“Matthew! Matthew!”

Matthew slowly turned his shocked gaze away from the flames and realized Joseph was lying on the deck a few feet from him, pinned beneath a piece of timber.

“Help me! Please, help me!” Joseph pleaded, his eyes wide with fright and pain.

The look on his face pierced Matthew’s shock and disbelief. Muttering both an oath and a prayer, he leaped to his feet, stunned to find he was completely unharmed save for a few minor cuts from flying debris. He rushed to Joseph’s side and managed to pry the timber from his chest.

Joseph took several deep breaths as he stared around him wildly. “What happened?” he gasped.

“The boilers blew,” Matthew answered grimly. Now that the shock had passed, it was time to help whomever he could. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ve got to see what I can do to help.”

“I’ll come,” Joseph gasped.

Matthew would have laughed at the idea of help from the emaciated soldier who had barely survived Andersonville if it hadn’t been so heartbreakingly tragic. He took a moment to kneel down in front of him. “You stay here,” he ordered more gently. “You’ve given enough. I will be back,” he promised.

When Matthew turned away, he had no idea whether he would be able to keep his promise. He picked his way across the boiler deck until he was stopped by a huge opening. A wild groan escaped his lips when he leaned over to look down. Fire had already erupted in the wreckage of the main deck below, creating the closest thing to hell that he could ever envision.

Mangled, scalded bodies were heaped and piled amid the burning debris. The smells of smoke and burning flesh beat against his face. The cabin was cut in two, with broken planks pointing down into the flames as if inviting the flames to devour the upper decks. In moments, the planks were bright with fire.

Matthew jumped back, knowing the flames would consume the boat rapidly.

Peter!
Where was Peter? Sobs tore at his throat as he realized he stood no chance of finding his friend in the maelstrom surrounding him.

His teeth ground in agony, fear, and desperate anger. He and Peter had survived Libby Prison only to die together on a boat in the middle of the Mississippi River. And thousands of men had escaped the horrors of Andersonville and Cahaba to die in the river’s cold, raging waters because men decided to horribly overload a boat when it was completely unnecessary.

Matthew’s cold anger broke through the rest of his shock. He gazed around him as the flames turned the night sky a bright red. He had a moment of hope that help would arrive but dismissed that idea as soon as it entered his mind. They were on their own.

He gritted his teeth as screams and cries for help continued to fill the air. His years on the battlefield had taught him to distinguish a death cry. He was sure the constant screams surrounding him would never fade in his mind. He was also sure the only escape from certain death was to go into the water, but he couldn’t until he had done all he could to help.

He watched as dozens of men rushed past him and flung themselves into the water. Some went in holding pieces of broken timber as their life preservers. Some held chairs or splintered tables. They had grabbed whatever they could find that might serve as a flotation device.

Matthew glanced over the railing and watched what seemed to be hundreds struggling in the water, but he knew they were beyond his ability to save. A quiet voice sounded at his shoulder.

“We must do what we can to help.”

Matthew whirled around and stared at the calm-eyed woman behind him. One arm had burns, and her face was pocked with cuts, but her eyes were what held him. In the midst of sheer madness, she gazed at him with utter tranquility. He knew there were staff wives aboard. He also knew there were members of the Christian Commission that had loaded in Vicksburg. He was certain she was a member of the latter.

“We’ve got to get as many men in the water as we can,” she urged. “It is the only thing that will save them.”

Her quiet words broke through Matthew’s confusion. “You’re right,” he responded instantly. “I will get pieces of timber for them to use for flotation. You locate the ones we can help and we’ll both get them in the river.”

When he heard her call again, Matthew already had a small pile of loose pieces of timber big enough to support a man’s weight by an opening blasted in the railing.

He sprang to her side, reaching down to help a soldier to his feet. He chose to ignore the scalded skin and charred hands. “Here we go, soldier,” he said gently, lifting him to his feet. “You keep looking,” he told the woman as he turned to help the soldier to the railing.

When they stood in front of the railing, he pressed a large piece of timber into the man’s hands. “I’m sorry, but this is all I can do. Hold on to the wood as tightly as you can. Help must surely be on the way.” He had no way of knowing if he told the truth, but he had experienced the power of hope to save lives many times during the war. He would not send this soldier into the water without hope.

The man nodded bravely, his blue eyes set with determination as he grabbed the wood and slid into the water.

Matthew, not waiting to see what would happen, turned and hurried back. The calm-eyed woman had already located three more survivors. Again, he refused to analyze their injuries. They may die in the water, but at least they had a chance. Staying on the
Sultana
only guaranteed their deaths.

“Help me! Quick!”

Matthew sprang to the woman’s side and gazed down at the frightened man trapped under a timber, his brown eyes pleading with them for help.

“I can’t get the timber off him,” the woman gasped, her chest heaving as she struggled with the thick beam.

Matthew lent his strength to moving the beam, but it didn’t budge. He groaned as an end of it burst into flame. He grabbed a piece of metal bar and lodged it next to the man’s body, hoping to lift it high enough to slide the soldier out, but it remained stubbornly lodged, the flame licking closer.

The woman sobbed out a prayer as the flames licked to within feet of the terrified soldier’s body. She grabbed his hands, and would have stayed there with him if Matthew had not pulled her back.

Matthew held her close as the man’s dying shrieks filled the air. He felt nothing but relief when the screams died away, knowing the man would no longer suffer.

“Okay.” The woman pushed him away. “I’m all right. We must find others to help.”

Matthew knew they were running out of time, but it was more than that. Wordlessly, he pulled the woman over to the opening in the railing and motioned for her to look down.

Tears filled her eyes as she stared down at the boiling mass of humanity. Men fought like demons to stay afloat, using whatever was handy to keep from sinking, even if was another man. “They are drowning each other,” she moaned.

Matthew nodded. “Help me gather wood to throw out to them for flotation. We have to try and save them.”

She nodded and leaped into action, tossing everything Matthew could find out to the men. The wild fighting continued. She finally knelt down and began to call to them. “Please! Please! You must listen to me.” Her high voice rang out into the madness.

Matthew saw several men shift their terrorized eyes and fix them on her calm figure.