Due North to Freedom

by Terence O'Grady

  * * *

  Mr. O’Toole looked at his watch once again. It was 10:00 in the morning. He had been waiting in the provost marshal’s office for half an hour at least. It had been almost two hours since two officers had come to his door and informed him that the provost marshal, Mr. Lawrence Ames, had requested a meeting with him that day. The officers had made it clear that refusing to attend this meeting was not an option.

  He had quickly gotten dressed and hurried to the appointment. But now, it turned out that Mr. Ames himself had been in much less of a hurry, since he had yet to make an appearance.

  The door to the office opened slowly and Mr. Ames finally appeared, a slight smile on his face. “Mrs. Hanson, please cancel any appointments I might have for the next hour,” he said over his shoulder to his secretary in the outer room. “Mr. O’Toole and I will be having a nice chat for a while.” Mr. Ames’ smile broadened unpleasantly.

  “Since the two soldiers who instructed me to come to your office made no mention of the reason for this interview, I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” said Mr. O’Toole, standing up to shake Mr. Ames’ hand.

  “Well, Mr. O’Toole, I will be blunt,” said Mr. Ames, ignoring Mr. O’Toole’s outstretched hand and taking his seat behind his desk. “I have heard disturbing reports about you and your family.”

  “And what exactly is the substance of those reports, Mr. Ames?” Mr. O’Toole asked coolly.

  “Actually, there are a number of things that have come to my attention,” replied Mr. Ames snidely. “First of all, there is the matter of your sons.”

  “My sons!” exclaimed Mr. “O’Toole. “What do my sons have to do with this?”

  “It is reported that they have frequently been seen in the company of one Joseph Smith, the son of a Mr. Robert Smith, who is currently in custody for plotting an unlawful flight from the city,” said Mr. Ames, referring to a paper on his desk.

  “I fail to see any significance in that,” Mr. O’Toole said calmly. “I’ve met the boy. He can be no older that ten or eleven and seems a fine lad.”

  “That ‘fine lad,’ as you put it, is a wanted fugitive.”

  “Wanted for what?”

  “For questioning. We must be certain that his father’s plot does not extend to other Negro freemen in the city.”

  “I doubt seriously that an eleven year old boy would be privy to that sort of information, Mr. Ames. And even if he were, what gives you the idea that my sons have anything to do with it?” Mr. O’Toole asked, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

  “We have no certain information that they do, Mr. O’Toole. I can assure you that if we had, we would have invited them in for a chat as well,” replied Mr. Ames.

  “Listen Mr. Ames,” said Mr. O’Toole grimly, “I may have to put up with your absurd questions, but you will not under any circumstances have access to my children.”

  “My dear Mr. O’Toole,” said Mr. Ames unpleasantly, “you find yourself much mistaken if you think that you are in a position to tell me what to do. It is true that you have a respected position in one of Richmond’s finest banks, but I can assure you that men in more elevated positions than yours have found themselves in Castle Thunder if it’s been determined that they have put themselves at the disposal of our city’s enemies.”

  “Neither I nor my two sons have done any such thing, Mr. Ames, and I think you know that.”

  “On the contrary, sir, I know nothing!” objected Mr. Ames. “And that is why I’ve asked you to come in today for a little talk. Now, if you are able to put my mind at rest in regard to these few matters…well then, I can assure you that neither you nor your family will be harassed.”

  “I can assure you that neither of my two sons has been assisting any ‘enemies’ of the city, as you put it,” said Mr. O’Toole quietly.

  “Can I be further assured that if you gain knowledge as to the whereabouts of young Joseph Smith that you will communicate that knowledge to the authorities immediately?”

  “You can be assured.”

  “Excellent. And now there is the matter of your daughter, Abigail O’Toole. She is a teacher, I believe.”

  “She has been a grammar school teacher for slightly over a year—as your records no doubt indicate.”

  “Fine potential as a teacher, I understand. But I understand further that in recent months her lessons for the children have not been completely supportive of the Confederate cause. She has, we are told, not been teaching the true meaning of the Confederacy,” said Mr. Ames, shaking his head slowly.

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not even sure that I understand what the ‘true meaning’ of the Confederacy is,” said Mr. O’Toole.

  “Indeed,” mused Mr. Ames. “I think we have put our finger on part of the problem, Mr. O’Toole. As a gentleman who has resided in Virginia’s fairest city for almost four years should well understand, the true meaning of the Confederacy lies in the refinement and harmonious workings of our society—the gentility of our culture…the…”

  “Not everyone has apparently found the workings to be so harmonious, Mr. Ames,” said O’Toole.

  “You refer, sir, to our slaves of course. You are perhaps not aware that many slaves find their positions to be quite satisfactory indeed. The advantages…”

  “Is that why so many have fled as soon as they’ve had a chance?”

  “They flee, sir, because the Yankees have got them all agitated and filled their heads with nonsensical dreams. Then the Yankees insult us by making them soldiers and turning them on us. They use our own slaves against us.”

  “You forget that the men who take up arms against you are no longer slaves.”

  Mr. Ames slammed his fist on the desk angrily. “This is yet another illustration of the problems of which I speak, sir. Your own words condemn you, Mr. O’Toole. You are no friend of the Confederacy!”

  “I am a friend of justice, sir. Neither the North or the South can claim my undivided allegiance,” Mr. O’Toole answered calmly.

  “Mr. O’Toole,” said Mr. Ames, regaining his composure and smiling thinly, “I think you can understand that at this point in history—with the Yankees nipping at our heels and our entire civilization in jeopardy—we must take the position that whomever is not with us is against us. If you are to avoid difficulties, you must be with us. Surely your charming wife, a true daughter of Virginia, appreciates this situation and…”

  “I will tell you frankly, Mr. Ames. My wife and I do not see current matters in quite the same light. It is not something we talk about.”

  “Well, I think you had better talk about it, sir,” roared Mr. Ames, his face flush. “For regardless of your respected position in the business community of Richmond, you find yourself treading dangerous ground. Take heed that the ground does not suddenly become quicksand and draw you down to your doom!” Rising ceremoniously from his chair, Mr. Ames added, “I trust we understand each other better now.”