Chapter II: Gudge the First’s Final Moments
Gudge, Sr, or as his posterity came to call him, Gudge the First, opened his and then narrowed them when he saw his captor and watched the man. He couldn’t tell where they were but noticed the ceiling was so low his captor could not stand straight up but kept his head down. And he noticed his captor’s uniform was faded and rather tight around his middle with his undershirt poking out between the lower buttons. His midsection hung over his trousers and Gudge assumed it had been some years since the man had seen his own feet while standing. One thing was certain, Gudge recognized it was not a friendly uniform whose wearer would be sympathetic to him or his cause. That told him everything he needed in order to proceed cautiously. The affable and guileless Gudge was going to have to be a very good actor if he wanted to get out of wherever he was at the moment. His mind raced as he tried to recall the exact words of the script he had been forced to memorize. “You won’t get caught,” he had been promised, “but just in case you do commit this to memory.” He desperately tried to calm himself enough to remember. He was a fine tapestry merchant, traveling to see his brother…no sister. Sister, he was on his way to see his sister who had raised him after their parents died. It was a rather tragic tale intended to invoke sympathy if needed.
But first things first, where exactly was he? His mouth was gagged with a dirty handkerchief that tasted horrible on his tongue, and he was lying prone on a cot with his hands tied above his head and his feet tied at the other end of the cot. He couldn’t turn his body but he could move his head and look around.
His captor wiped the back of his neck. “Sure is hot down here.” He looked at Gudge. “Look who woke up!”
Gudge nodded but never took his eyes of the captor.
The man scratched his eye with the back of his hand. He looked around nervously eyeing the small room. Apparently, something about the room they were in made him nervous. “It will be a lot better when we surface again,” he was speaking more to himself than to Gudge.
Down here? Surface? Gudge wondered. What did that mean?
His captor snorted at him. “You have no idea where we are, do you, son?”
Gudge was amazed at the level of stupidity of that question. Of course he had no idea where he was! He had been hit over the head and knocked unconscious. The last thing he remembered was waking up with a burlap sack over his head while two men discussed his fate. When they realized he was listening they knocked him out again. So, stupid question, guy. But with the gag in his mouth, the only response he could give was shaking his head.
This seemed to add to his captor’s enjoyment. “Ha! You don’t know, of course you don’t know,” he was starting to pace now. “You have no idea you are a guest…”
Gudge blinked slowly at the word…
“On the Hippo.” He waited for a reaction from Gudge. There was none so he continued, “you are one of the first to not only know about its existence but privileged to be the first guest on board.”
Gudge’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re on a submarine, son! Imagine that, a submarine.”
Submarine? Submarine? Gudge had heard some of the townsfolk throw out that word. What did they say about it? He tried to recall the conversation. Vaguely he remembered it was Martin Gregory talking. Gudge was standing behind him at the store when Martin was talking to the storeowner. He had a newspaper and was pointing to an article that said both sides were experimenting with underwater vessels…
Underwater vessels?!
Did that mean he was currently underwater? The panic at the realization was instantaneous and his reaction was pure instinct. Forget about the script! He started thrashing around the best he could which wasn’t much since he was tied to the cot.
“Now calm down, just calm down,” his captor said. “Nothing to be nervous about,” even as he said the words he looked around the room as if ensuring himself there was nothing to be nervous about.
Gudge stopped moving mainly because it hurt his ribs to move like that. But his breathing couldn’t be subdued.
“Now look what you did!” His captor said and moved closer. He yanked the handkerchief out of Gudge’s mouth and stuck it under his nose. “Gave yourself a bloody nose getting all worked up like that.”
Gudge seized the opportunity and let out the loudest scream he could.
His captor scratched the back of his neck. “Ain’t no one gonna hear ya, but if it makes ya feel right better, you just scream away. I do it every morning. It’s good to get all those knots inside all out in the open, ain’t it?”
Gudge looked at him. It could be that he was bluffing. He took another deep breath and let out a guttural scream. This time his captor stood up and cupped his hands around his mouth. He let out a wolf howl that lasted as long as Gudge’s scream. When Gudge realized his captor was not bluffing about no one hearing him he stopped. His throat was hoarse and he felt tears stinging his eyes.
His captor stopped also and placed the handkerchief under Gudge’s nose again.
Gudge started to look at the room more closely. The oblong shape. The metal. His captor’s apparent nervousness. It was all making sense now. When he had heard talk about under water ships he never imagined he would see one let alone be in one. What was it that he had heard? The ships were being tested by both sides but without much luck. As he recalled that, his eyes started darting around the room the rising panic evident in his eyes.
“We’re on our way to deliver your little message to the president himself,” his captor said tapping the jacket pocket over his chest.
Gudge’s eyes widened as he realized his mission had been compromised. They had found the letter! The full impact he started to tally quickly. He started twisting and moving again to see if he could loosen his restraints.
“What’s the matter?” His captor taunted. “Something in this note you were trying to deliver not meant for the president’s eyes?” He laughed and walked out of the room. Gudge could hear his footsteps on the metal floor. He heard other voices which meant they were not alone on this vessel. There was a crew of men making this thing work. How many men? He had no idea. Instinct made him attempt to scream again but choked it out because he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Sweat soaked through his shirt and dripped from his bangs. He thought he was going to pass out again. Was it really that hot in this room? He rocked his body as violently as he could to loosen his restraints. Back and forth, back and forth. He heard a pop and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. Surely, he dislocated it. His eyes filled with tears and he slowed but only for a moment. An idea came to his mind that he dismissed at first. But then looking around at his situation and realizing how desperate he was he closed his eyes tight and squeezed his bound hands firmly together until he felt his thumbs pop. He broke his thumbs and let out an involuntary yell but no one came to the door. He managed to stay lucid and focus on the task at hand. With his thumbs broken, he was able to maneuver his hands out of the tight knot.
He sat up and doubled over to untie his legs but with a dislocated shoulder and two broken thumbs, it was slow going. He couldn’t believe the amount of pain he felt. But he forced himself to stay on task. Whatever he did, he could not pass out again. Before he could finish untying his legs, his captor returned.
“What the…” his captor asked surprised to see his prisoner sitting up on the cot instead of stretched out and tied up still. He pulled his revolver out but the room was so small he stood too close to Gudge. Gudge instinctively went for the gun as well and being younger and more fit than his captor not to mention more desperate, had quicker reflexes. He grabbed the gun and pointed it at his captor even though his legs were still tied. His grip on the gun wasn’t secure because of his thumbs but he aimed it anyway.
His captor stretched out his hands. “Now son,” he said letting panic color his voice. “We can talk about this. Don’t do anything we are both going to regret. And using that in here will be something we will all regret.”
Gudge wasn’t listening though. He was surprised that the tables had turned. It’s possible he might live after all. He’d get home to his family. He’d get home and they would move. Somewhere far away. Somewhere out west. Somewhere away from all of this which is what he should have done instead of going on this stupid mission. Yes, he just had to get out of this place and get home to his family. Forget the mission. Forget Martin Gregory.
“You got me,” his captor said with his hands up. “I’m your prisoner. But please don’t fire that weapon.”
Gudge managed to cock the gun. “I just want to go home.”
“That’s understandable,” his captor said in a soothing voice not taking his eyes off the gun. “We all do.”
“I just wanted to help my family,” Gudge said and couldn’t control his emotions. He couldn’t keep the gun steady.
His captor held up his hands. “You don’t understand. We are in a very delicate system here. You fire that gun and we are all goners.”
Gudge didn’t lower the gun even though with his broken thumbs it was painful to keep it aimed. But he couldn’t let on about that. He couldn’t untie his feet and keep the gun aimed at the same time so he was trying to decide what to do.
His captor took the hesitation to act and made for the door. Gudge panicked and squeezed the trigger. He didn’t want to. He had never shot a person and hoped to make it through the war without making that claim. But he squeezed the trigger and fired it surprising himself. It was part instinct and part pain because the gun was heavy.
Turns out, his captor had been right. Firing a gun in a Civil War submarine is not recommended. It was a costly mistake. Gudge missed his captor completely but hit the ceiling. They both heard it pass through a couple layers of metal. Cold water started coming in and then there was a loud crack before either one could react. The ship’s side split wide open and water poured in. Gudge never did untie his feet. His captor never made it to the escape hatch. Both were drowned while the sea buried them in their tomb. No one else in the submarine ever knew what happened because the destruction came so quickly. The boat flooded and all were killed. The Hippo never made it to any official documents to keep the other side from learning about another failure. No history book would ever tell the story and tragic end of the Civil War’s doomed Hippo submarine.
The submarine ended up coming to rest in the river only 15 miles away from Gudge Riley’s home. But no one ever knew it. No one ever knew about Gudge’s true mission. What’s more, poor Gudge never knew that he had, actually, made it home.
ck's days 