Confederate Money. Paul Varnes
died in 1857 and did not see the war decimate his grandchildren.
All coming from large families, my eight great-grandparents had more than forty brothers and sisters. Most of these great-great uncles served, and many died, in the war. A number of their fathers and uncles also served in the war. Additionally, a half dozen men who married my great-great aunts served in the war.
Being from different parts of the country, or having different points of view, some of my ancestors served on different sides. Thus, it seems appropriate that the novel’s main characters serve both sides.
Florida contributed a larger percentage of its male population of military age to the Confederate military than did any other Confederate state. With forty percent dead and thirty-three percent wounded, Florida also took the heaviest losses of any state. Of the 15,000 from Florida who served the Confederacy, 6,000 died and 5,000 more were wounded.
Almost all of Florida’s units had been sent out of state by 1862 to fight in Tennessee, Georgia, and Virginia. Although they took large losses in several battles, Florida units took unusually large losses at Gettysburg. Several thousand men from Florida, black and white, also volunteered in the Union army. Since they enlisted in various Northern states, they were counted there, so there is no good record of the exact number.
While the above numbers seem small, it should be remembered that Florida had a small population. Pensacola, then the largest city in Florida, had only 2,886 people in 1860. Jacksonville, then the second largest city in Florida, had only 2,018. Dade County, the location of the town of Miami, and Monroe County, the county covering the Keys, combined had only 670 people.
Acknowledgments
My great uncle Harvey Varnes deserves special mention. Since my grandfathers and dad died before I was old enough for them to pass on stories, it was Harney’s stories of the war that started me on Henry’s trail. My memory of those stories are now dimmed a little by time, and some of the episodes in this novel might bear little resemblance to anything he told me. Most, however, are based in fact. Other than those few liberties, the story accurately follows historical events.
A number of organizations and books were helpful in developing the historical and cultural setting for the novel. Organizations include the Cedar Key Historical Society, the Florida Park Service, the Jacksonville Historical Society, the Matheson Historical Society of Gainesville, and the National Park Service. Though many other books were helpful, these deserve special mention: Bert E. Brooks, “Old Oaks” Civil War in North Florida (2000); Larry J. Daniel, Shiloh (1997); T. C. DeLeon, Four Years in Rebel Capitals (1890), reprinted in 1983; Shelby Foote, The Civil War (1963). Also, Gary W. Gallagher, The Confederate War (1997); John Edwin Johns, Florida during the Civil War (1963); Edward E. Leslie, The Devil Knows How to Ride (1996); James McCague, Moguls and Iron Men (1964); Matt Spruill, Guide to the Battle of Chickamauga (1993).
I am indebted to my wife, Dr. Jill Tutton Varnes, for her encouragement, patience, and assistance. Thanks are due to Diane Davis who spent nights and weekends typing the original manuscript. People who read the work in progress and offered suggestions include Lorene Breeden, David Burton, Jennifer Wilson Carlstedt, Dr. Bertha Cato, Dr. Seigfred Fagerberg, Dr. Dovie Gamble, Sybil Haveard, Connie Lucius, Jean Mullen, Dr. Barbara Rienzo, and Julia Rae Varnes.
PART I
Revenge
October 4, 1861
What stirred Henry from a deep sleep was the sound of a large number of people trying to move quietly. His step-pa was already up and had thrown back the canvas that served as a front for the lean-to in which they were sleeping. The old man’s quiet movement didn’t awaken Henry. Familiar sounds or movements never did.
Outlined by the light from the still burning campfire, Henry’s step-pa was standing in front of the lean-to with his rifle in hand. Since there wasn’t much the old man couldn’t handle, Henry wasn’t fully awake until the guns started going off. There were several shots, five of which hit his step-pa. There was no reason to shoot the old man. He was standing without raising his rifle.
Leaping from the lean-to, Henry grabbed his step-pa’s rifle and was in full flight to the cover of darkness when something slammed into his left shoulder, knocking him to the ground. There was a flash of light and he was unconscious for three days.
That they were in Cedar Key, Florida, at the time of the Yankee raid was a coincidence. Henry and his step-pa had only gone there to get salt and smoked fish. All the other supplies they needed were available in Archer. The truth be known, they could have gotten salt and smoked fish in Archer too. Their trip was mostly so they could ride the train and let Henry see Cedar Key, a booming town of a hundred people. Although they had seen the train several times, neither had ever ridden one.
Cedar Key, prior to the Yankee raid, was one of the chief suppliers of salt to the Confederate Army. One hundred fifty bushels of salt were produced there every week. Salt being the main way of preserving meat, that small town was a mighty important place. Transporting salt and the supplies brought in by Southern blockade-runners were the main reasons that rail tracks had been laid from Cedar Key to Archer.
Henry’s family hadn’t always lived in the North Florida palmetto scrub. They had been well off until his natural pa died of consumption in 1851. The farm they lived on before his pa died wasn’t paid for and his ma couldn’t keep it. They then lived pretty much with anyone who would have them until his ma married the old man in 1857. That was when they grubbed out their five-acre farm and built on it.
Although they didn’t have much, Henry’s ma saw to it that he was well educated. In 1850, the year Henry became old enough to go to school, not many Florida residents could read. Not many people got to go to school back then. The thirty-seat public school in Gainesville, the only public school in the county, was only open three months a year. Living fifteen miles from the school, Henry didn’t get to attend. In spite of never attending a school, Henry was, and still is, the best reader that I’ve ever met. He can also use words and numbers in the smoothest way I ever saw. Henry’s ma kept lots of books around and encouraged him. She sat him down to read, write, and do numbers for two hours every day of the year since he can remember.
October 7, 1861
As I said, Henry didn’t wake up for three days. When he finally did, he was in a feather bed. No surprise if you know Henry, there was a woman fanning him and patting his head with a wet rag. The woman, Miss Daisy, was one of the old ones. I thought she was at least fifty the way he described her the first time. Actually, she’s a handsome woman, and was only forty. As it turned out, Miss Daisy was the doctor’s old maid sister. That was fortunate because otherwise some folks wouldn’t have thought it proper for her to care for Henry alone at home, even though he was only seventeen at the time.
She spoke when he had barely cracked his eyes. “Now aren’t you the feisty one lying there with your eyes wide open. I’ve been patting and fanning you for three days and nights, and had just about given up on you. You just lie right there. I’m going to get some chicken soup and I’ll be back. A big boy like you could starve to death in three days.”
Henry didn’t say anything, but he managed to get a cup of chicken soup down before sleeping for another day.
The second time he woke up they were changing the bandage on his head and shoulder. He had caught one minié ball in his left shoulder and another had permanently parted the hair across the top of his head. He was coherent enough to ask questions that time.
“Pa? What about Pa?”
“I’m