Tim went forward to speak to Kautz. The captain turned. “The colonel says dispense with roll call. No one will want to desert us here.” He motioned toward the waiting transports and gestured toward a column of men that waited on the pier. “We board the ship on the left,” he said. “Company K will occupy the forward deck. We will occupy the stern.” Tim made his way back along the wall of one of the sheds. He found Red no more cheerful than anyone else. Tim said, “At least we’re heading north.” “I suppose there should be comfort in that.” Dawson stood close by. “North or south, it’s all the same to me,” he said. “I want to see the last of these flea-ridden islands. I’d like to be defending Beaufort. That’s the job for me. The boys in Beaufort sit on verandas and rock all day.” Red smiled. “A veranda in New Haven would look good to me.” The branches of a spindly oak showed above the roof of the nearest shed. The place was colorless and barren in the early morning light. Now the columns of soldiers began to move. A couple of Navy men dashed past on their way to their ship, holding their little pie-shaped hats, their bell-bottomed trousers flopping foolishly around their ankles. A soldier raised a little cheer and the whole column took it up. One of the sailors blushed and quickened his pace. Kautz and Dawson were waiting at the end of the pier. They motioned the soldiers forward and directed them to climb the gangplank. As the men reached the deck they passed a solemn old sailor with a full white beard. He watched them closely as one by one they stepped to the deck, nodding to each in a silent gesture of mournfulness. The transport moved through the anchored fleet and into the channel. She steamed east until she was well away from shore. When she was two miles out she swung northeast, and some of the soldiers sought shelter from the heat on the deck below or in the shadows of the boats. Tim leaned against the rail with Red, watching the distant shore. Close by, the air seemed clear and the sun reflected on the water, but the distance was shrouded in haze. Shortly after noon one of the lookouts gave a yell. A big, black-bearded gunner shouted to his men, and they struggled up from where they lounged with the soldiers on the deck. Two thirty-pound cannon were mounted near the stern, one on either side. The gunner leaned on the starboard cannon and shielded his eyes, looking into the mist that veiled the horizon. Tim strained his eyes, then clutched Red’s arm and pointed across the crowded deck. “There she is!”