Chapter 42: Tragedies and Different Directions

Dublin, Virginia – March 1882

Young Frank Birchard Farragut finally received the letter in the mail and the reply was every bit to his liking. Now, he had to explain to his parents of his intentions. This would be a big step for him, one he has dreamed of ever since all the stories were told about his grandfather. Secretly he dreamed and lived for each day for this moment, but finally—he was accepted into the Junior Naval Academy, whereupon graduation after two years he would then go on to the Annapolis Naval Academy itself, and work as hard as he could to become an officer. In six years total, he would be a fleet officer at the age of eighteen. A daunting task he believed but his intentions were clear. Tonight at dinner, he would tell his parents the good news.

He reread parts of the letter again, unable to contain his smile.

… and furthermore, Mr. Farragut, upon receipt of your letter, we, the Board of Directors have accepted you at the Junior Academy. The next class session begins in ninety (90) days.

… this offer is made but one. Failure to attend on the schedule date will null and void this acceptance. Please be prompt.

If nothing else, he would be early.

April 1882 – Chalfin Springs

“Times are changing, Etta,” said James as he set the newspaper to the side.

“Times always changes, James.”

“I know, I know. Once upon a time I was twenty and soon I’ll be sixty-three. Nothing stays the same and believe it isn’t mean to stay the same either.

“The things in the paper tells me that much. I think that the days of what we knew as the heyday of life, is about over. All the bad guys are dying off and all the good guys are turning bad.” He laughed.

“Oh? Who died this time?”

“Jesse James. Shot in the back of the head and it was close range, too. That had to be messy. A year ago, Billy The Kid fell off by Pat Garrett, and then there was that fracas in Arizona with the Earp’s and Clanton’s. And now, it seems like Wyatt Earp is wanted for murder. Strange how the law can work for and against you.”

“Really? I met Wyatt once when I was very young. He was a soft spoken person. I can’t believe he is being charged with murder.”

“All stems from the gunfight at the O.K. Corral they say. People were saying it was premeditated, that Wyatt, his two brothers, and Doc Holiday had planned it all along.”

“Papa, who is this Wyatt Earp? I never heard the name before.”

“Come sit on my lap boy, and I’ll tell you as much as I know.”

As Scottie crawled onto his lap, Etta gave a small but happy smile. With Chadlynn having her own life now, James focus turned to Scottie, and they were bonding more and more each day just as she had hoped for.

Scottie may have been an accident by birth, but now, he was loved by her and James, just as it should be.

New Orleans – May 30, 1862

My Dearest Anna,

When I first wrote and told you how Randolph appeared out of the blue, and he explained to me why he ran away, that the devastation of President Garfield being killed so close to after his meeting him, well, it just gave him all sorts of strange ideas as I mentioned. The assassin coming after him, or you and William. He felt it would be better if he stayed away, and of course that was when I had asked if it would be alright if he stays with Arthur and I for a while.

Since then to now, he has taken a liking to the city, and the people. It has even gotten to the point where he now plays a piano. Anna—Randolph has potential as a musician, I believe. He has only been at it perhaps a month and he is getting better every day. On the weekends, he’ll be in one of the taverns playing with grown men and he catches on fast. You would be so proud of his abilities.

The other reason I’m writing is to let you know he wants to come back home. He has something he wants to tell you and William. I hope you both allow him his request. About a week ago I believe, a pleasant man, a Dr. Frank Damrosch, opened up a small business teaching people how to red, write. and play music. To my surprise, the man is related to Franz List, or more I should say, his godson.

I must stop myself as I feel I am rambling now, but Randolph leaves in two days.

And I do hope all is well with you. I worry for you.

With Love & Great Affection,

Fiona

Dublin, Virginia -m June 1, 1862

“I must say, boys, the news you bring to your mother and I is quite the surprise, wouldn’t you think so, Anna?”

“But of course it is. When Randolph ran away, I never had a moment’s peace, and now—now, he is to go away again, but at least this time I know where he will be. Fiona will be happy to have you stay with her and Arthur until your music studies are complete. It will be wonderful to have a pianist in the family. I don’t ever remember hearing of any of our family playing any instrument before, except for Samuel, and that was so long ago so it seems.” Looking at Randolph direct she said softly, “I am so very, very proud of you. Never forget that.” Then she leaned in and gave Randolph a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“And you, wanting to be in the Navy. Were my father, your grandfather still here, he would applaud your idea, and so I do that for him. He made the Navy his life’s work. Sixty years I believe if accurate. Perhaps you will do the same.”

“Father,” smiled Frank. “If God willing, I shall.”

Later that Evening

“It will just be the two of this in this big house, William. I am going to miss them both. Miss the sounds, the noises they make.”

“Things will be fine, Anna. At least now we have the chance to do a few things without the boys that I have always had plans on.”

“Oh, and what plans are they?”

“I want to take you to Europe and visit France, Germany, Spain, and even England.”

“Isn’t that what your father did with your mother?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to wait as long as they did to have ourselves an adventure. But tonight ….” He gave a broad grin.

“I know that look, or I think I do. Are you thinking of taking advantage of me in my weakened state,” she chided.

“My love, if anything, you are far from weak.”

Chalfin Springs – Late January 1883

The storm seemed to have no ending.

Snow fell heavily for hours at a time. James and Etta have lived through several of these but this had to be the worse one on record, but it wasn’t even the storm that bothered them as much as the fact that somewhere in this driving blizzard, Scottie was out there, and neither James nor Etta could find him. They could barely see each other even when standing side by side.

A vast fear was welling inside Etta. It had been two days since the storm had went from bad to terrible and it was that second day when they went in search of Scottie.

Now, three days into a relentless storm with no give, she was beside herself with fear that Scottie may be dead.

James refused to relinquish hope. Though inwardly, he knew the boy wouldn’t last this long, but he kept trying but the search was not going well at all. He had barely covered half a mile with his horse before gusty winds and the knife-like daggers of pelting snow forced him back home, and twice, he almost lost his way.

Even Abraham braved through as best he could to find Scottie, but he felt it like a gut punch that he wouldn’t be alive and that really ate at his insides. Scottie was a treat to have around and he was learning ranch work quickly, but with this storm … Abraham knew. He just knew.

It was on the morning of the sixth day when the storm finally stopped. It would be another eight days before James and Abraham found Scottie, curled up like a cocoon in his heavy burlap coat, frozen to death.

It would take the better part of two weeks before Etta had the resolve to sit down and tell the rest of the family the tragic news.

Enroute to Glasgow from England - June 1883

The travels William and Anna had taken were memorable to say the very least. Anna fell in love with France and even bought a dictionary with French words translate to English so she would know what she would be saying. When they made their way into Munich, Anna wasn’t so pleased with the language but she was awed by their train system, and a thing they called a tram, which William described as a cable car, something that was quite common in Chicago; and their electric lighting system seemed far advance than what was in America. She really enjoyed her time in Venice, Italy. Stateside they have rowboats, but in Italy, they are known as Gondola’s Bigger and actually beautiful, and her and William had a man steer the Gondola for them. She found that fun and exciting. Now, they were on their way to Glasgow. A place William said I would get a kick out of how they spoke.

Things were still difficult for Anna. Everywhere she went, anything she did, she wrote it all down in a journal so she wouldn’t forget. The lapses were getting longer with each passing month, and her physician was stymied, not knowing how to reverse the problem.

On the second day of the journey, the SS Daphne lurched heavily in the water as if it hit something. Moments later with both her and William on deck, they could hear shouting and screaming and then they both felt the pull as the Daphne leaned to one side and fell sideways into the water.

Anna screamed, clutching at William’s arms as he held her tightly to him and the next moment they were caught up in a swirling whirlpool. They were less than five minutes away from docking at the Glasgow seaport when it happened.

*****

It had been three days since William had been in the hospital. When he finally awakened, he was instantly aware of his surroundings but yelled out, “ANNA! Where are you, love! ANNA!”

It came back to him in a flash. The boat rolling over. Losing the grip he had with Anna. Seeing her seemingly float further and further away from him. Then came the darkness.

“Sir, please calm down,” said a nurse rushing into his room.

“Where is my wife!”

“Tell me her name and I shall find out, sir.”

“Anna Walsh Farragut.”

“Give me some time and I’ll see if I can’t find her for you. You were one of almost a hundred people brought here from that terrible mishap. Most were young boys that died in the sinking, but we have about sixteen women who survived, so this shouldn’t take long.”

William laid helpless. All those times he remembered saying how he would never let anything happen to her. “She cannot be dead. Dear God, give her back to me!”

Time seemed to move in slow motion. He was getting impatient. Getting out of bed, he felt a little weakness in his knees but he managed to keep himself upright.

“Sir, you need to be back in bed, you are not….”

“My wife? Did you find my wife?”

Then a tall, balding, heavyset man walked in.

“I’m Dr. Fitzgibbons, and I came here to report that we have no record of anyone here with the name you gave Nurse Finlay. My profound sympathies for your loss.”

Without making a sound, William crawled back onto the bed and the tears never stopped flowing.

Late July – 1883

Everyone was there at William’s house, including his two sons, as well as James and Etta.

They all got together as a family to say their part, to make their peace.

It wasn’t a happy occasion for them but they did talk in part of those good times in their lives. It was their way of keeping the memories alive.

It was Abraham who had the last word.

“I never got to know any of you outside of today, and I’m right sorry for what has happened. If I were a betting man, I’d say the one take away from all this is the love you all have for each other. Not in all my days have I ever seen such a thing, and I may never again. Remember today, remember those you loved and still love. It’s about the only way you keep them alive inside you.”

Annapolis - February 1884

“Seaman Farragut, fall out of ranks and report to the CDR at once. Double time!”

Running as fast as he could, Frank was wondering why the Captain would want to see him. Was he in trouble? What did he do wrong?

Breathing heavily, he waited almost a minute for his breathing to level out before he knocked on the office door.

“Enter.”

Frank opened the door to see Captain Nate Richardson, all three-hundred pounds of him sitting stiffly behind his desk.

“Seaman Farragut reporting as ordered, sir!”

“At ease, Farragut and take a seat.”

Silence carried the noise in the room for Frank didn’t know what to say, then Richardson spoke.

“I have heard good things about you from the Drill Instructors. Seems like you are progressing well. And I have it by recommendation that you may be ready for an onboard vessel simulation.”

“Simulation, sir?”

“Yes. In two weeks, the U.S.S. Puritan is going out to sea for a simulated combat mission, and you are hereby ordered to take part in it. If you are worth the salt your grandfather was, my hunch is you will do well. And this will bode well in your report as you get closer to graduation—but let me make myself clear on this, you may be a Farragut, but to me, right now, you are a seamen in training. Do a good job and the reward will be great. Do poorly, and frankly, you are out of the academy.”

“Yes sir, I understand, sir. I can be counted on to do whatever is asked of me.”

“Very good. Dismissed.”

Leaving his office, Frank Birchard Farragut had such a smile on his face. He wouldn’t fail. He was born for this.

December 1884 – Frenchman Street, New Orleans, LA

“Your progress is remarkable. Of the thirty students I have, you have far excelled them all.”

“Thank you Dr. Damrosch. That means a lot to me.”

“What would you say if I asked you to come to New York with me next year?”

“Ah, guess I would say, why?”

“New York is the epicenter of this country. It continues to grow by leaps and bounds and—I would like an assistant to help me teach other students?”

“Teach? I don’t think I’m ready to …”

“Nonsense, Randolph. You have been the fastest learner of all the other students when it comes to understanding the structure of music, of how to write and read music. It is a craft. And you have that craft, that ability. My goal is to create the largest music school in the country and New York is where it shall be. And I want you to be part of the venture.”

“I’m honored Dr. Damrosch, truly I am, and—and I accept.”