North and South Trilogy by John Jakes Read Free Book Online

calculated the rapidly changing odds, and after some oaths that brought gasps from the two ladies who had just arrived, hurried off the pier and disappeared on the street beyond.
    Orry drew a deep breath. The other young man jumped down from the trunk. His fine clothes were hardly ruffled.
    “I thank you very much for your assistance sir.” Orry’s politeness helped hide his nervousness in the presence of Yankees—and patently prosperous ones, at that.
    The stocky young man grinned. “We almost had ’em whipped.”
    Orry smiled too; The newcomer stood just about to his shoulder. Although there was no fat on him, he gave the impression of being very wide of body. His face was shaped like a wide U. He’d lost his hat, and his brown hair, lighter than Orry’s, showed several blond streaks bleached by the sun. The young man’s pale, ice-colored eyes were saved from severity by a good-humored sparkle. His smile helped, too, although anyone who disliked him no doubt would have called it cocky.
    “So we did,” Orry replied, perpetuating the lie.
    “Nonsense,” said a stout, pasty man three or four years older than Orry’s benefactor. “Both of you could have been injured or killed.”
    The stocky lad spoke to Orry. “My brother never does anything more dangerous than trimming his nails.”
    The woman who had cried out, stout and fortyish, said, “George, don’t be saucy to Stanley. He’s right. You’re far too reckless.”
    It was a family, then. Orry touched his hat brim. “Whether we won or lost, all of you helped me out of a tight spot. My thanks again.”
    “I’ll give you a hand with that trunk,” George said. “You are taking this boat, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, to the Military Academy.”
    “Just get your appointment this year?”
    Orry nodded. “Two months ago.”
    “Fancy that,” George said, grinning again. “So did I.”
    He let go of the broken rope handle. Orry’s quick jump saved his feet from being crushed by the trunk.
    The other young man held out his hand. “Name’s George Hazard. I’m from Pennsylvania. A little town you’ve never heard of—Lehigh Station.”
    “Orry Main. From Saint George’s Parish, South Carolina.”
    They looked at each other as their hands clasped. Orry had a feeling this pugnacious little Yankee was going to be a friend.
    A few steps away George’s father was berating the official who had stood by while a fight developed. The official loudly disavowed responsibility for the public pier. The elder Hazard exclaimed, “I’ve got your name. There’ll be an investigation, I promise you that.”
    Scowling, he returned to his family. His wife soothed him with some murmured words and a pat or two. Then George cleared his throat and, with a mannerly air, made the proper introductions.
    William Hazard was a stern, impressive man with a lined face. He looked ten years older than his wife, though in fact he was not. In addition to the parents and their two older sons, there was a sister, Virgilia—oldest of the children, Orry surmised—and a boy of six or seven. His mother called him William; George referred to him as Billy. The boy kept fiddling with his high collar, which brushed the lobes of his ears; all the men, including Orry, wore similar collars. Billy gazed at his brother George with unmistakable admiration.
    “Since Stanley’s the oldest male, he’s going to take over the ironworks,” George explained as he and Orry carried the trunk onto the steamer. “There’s never been a question of his doing anything else.”
    “Iron, you said?”
    “Yes. Our family’s been making it for six generations. The company used to be called Hazard Furnace, but my father changed the name to Hazard Iron.”
    “My older brother would be fascinated. Anything scientific or mechanical interests him.”
    “Are you the second son also?” George’s father asked, coming aboard with the rest of the family.
    “Yes, sir. My brother Cooper refused an Academy