The Day After Gettysburg
Page 5
It seemed to work. The men nodded solemnly while the handful of adult women smiled. Mariah was a big help. A light-skinned black, she told them that she had learned to read and that anyone could. She further told them that she’d escaped from a plantation in North Carolina owned by a cruel man and had made it into Indiana just after the war began.
Her story was somewhat similar to Hadrian’s except that Mariah hadn’t had to kill anyone to get away. At least, Cassandra thought with a start, she didn’t think her servant had killed anyone en route to freedom.
Cassandra also noticed that Mariah and Hadrian were stealing glances at each other. She would not tease the young woman. If she did, Mariah would retort and ask how long she was going to be in mourning for her lost Richard. Mariah had never cared much for Richard. For one thing, he’d been such a thin and frail-looking young man. While Cassie didn’t think he was after the family money, Mariah wasn’t so sure. It didn’t help that Rachel thought he was sweet while her father could barely stand the man.
Their opinions had softened somewhat when Richard had been killed and both were wondering when she would come out of her self-inflicted period of mourning and use what feminine charms she had. Her father thought she was lovely, but he was her father, after all.
Some of the students picked up on the need to memorize the letters and their sounds very quickly. Others were puzzled by the fact that the scribbles actually meant something. This was, she thought, something that must confront teachers everywhere. Still others were surprised to realize that they could already read after a fashion. They knew what the name of their owners’ farm or plantation looked like and could read signs telling them where they were if the place was familiar.
She was about to call it an uneventful day when she heard a shout and then Hadrian yelling for people to “circle.”
Within seconds, she was in the middle of a group of Negro woman and children who were being protected by a cordon of their men. She was not surprised to see that several of them had pistols. Those who didn’t had axes and knives.
There were several other groups of contrabands in sight and they were all taking up circular defensive positions. “What is it?” Cassie asked, her voice rising in alarm.
“Slavers,” Mariah said angrily. Her face was contorted into a snarl. “They are not going to take me. I was a slave once and it’s not gonna happen again. I will not be any white man’s fuck toy.”
Cassie recoiled in surprise. She’d heard the word, of course, just not in such a cold anger and definitely not from a woman.
Several dozen horsemen were visible in the near distance, cantering as if they didn’t have a care in the world. They stopped and viewed the groups arrayed against them. Their very silence was sinister. She had heard of packs of wolves inspecting herds of cattle and sheep, looking for weak ones to separate and kill. These riders were predators.
“How do you know they’re slavers?”
“We just know,” Hadrian answered. She saw that he had a Colt revolver in his belt—an Army horse pistol, like her father’s. “We got some mighty brave scouts watching this here gang. Them sons of bitches would like nothing better than to ride through here and take anyone with a dark skin down south. They don’t give a damn about nobody being free, legal or not. Mister Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation’s just a scrap of paper to them.”
This is incredible, she thought. They were only a few short miles from Washington and these poor Negroes were in danger of being enslaved . . . re-enslaved, she corrected herself. She had no concerns for her own safety. She was clearly a white woman, but she was worried about Mariah. Even though she was light-skinned no one would mistake her for white. It sounded as if she would choose to die rather than be enslaved again. Mariah had told her only a little about her life as a slave, except to intimate that it was sometimes brutal and that she’d had to do things against her will and which she found repugnant. Now it occurred to her that Mariah likely had been forced to have sex with her master, or other men. She shuddered. What kind of world was she living in? And how innocent and naïve was she?
Another invisible signal was given and the frightened band relaxed. A clearly agitated and angry Hadrian approached. “I think there’s been enough teaching for today. Let these folks think on it ’til tomorrow. That is, if you ain’t been scared off.”
Cassandra glared at him. “I have not been scared off and will not be scared off. Nor do I care if you swear all the time. I have heard many such words before. Perhaps I will learn some new ones.”
Hadrian blinked, then laughed and strolled off. He detailed a handful of strong young men with guns to watch their carriage as they rode off to the safety of home. Tomorrow they would teach anew.
Colonel Corey Wade had seen General Longstreet before, but only at a distance. Even then, he struck Wade as being an imposing figure. Up close and across a dirty wooden table, the general was even more so. Burly and taller than average, Longstreet had an intimidating glare and it was now totally focused on Colonel Corey Wade.
“Colonel, just exactly when did you find out that your sergeant had killed three Union prisoners in cold blood?”
“Shortly after he did it, sir. Actually, within minutes. I was present at the fighting but unable to prevent the shootings from happening.”
“And what did you do about it?”
“Sir, Sergeant Blandon is a very valuable man. He is my chief scout. He is the one who found the wagon train in the first place. I ordered him to control himself. I was at least partly convinced that he had killed in the passion of the moment.”
“Passion of the moment. Does that condone murder?”
Wade began to get angry. “With respect, sir, the last I checked we’re at war with the North and the men who were killed were enemy soldiers.”
“They were soldiers who had surrendered, Colonel.”
“They surrendered after killing three of my men and wounding five more. I felt that Sergeant Blandon had simply gotten carried away in the heat of battle.”
“Bullshit, Colonel. The killings occurred a good ten minutes after the Union wagons had been overrun. Your man Blandon did it for the hell of it and you are trying to excuse his actions and your inaction. Where the hell is Blandon now?”
Wade felt his face turning red. “I don’t know, sir. He and a dozen of his usual companions left this morning. They told one of my lieutenants that they were going to go do some independent scouting, which is what they do quite frequently.”
“Did he know that you’d been ordered to report to me?”
“Sir, everybody did.”
“Then he would have guessed the purpose of our meeting and he probably also guessed that I was going to order you to arrest him. I have a freshly printed Union greenback that says you’ll never see him again. I think he’s gone off to be an outlaw.”
Wade was feeling less threatened by Longstreet. Blandon was his only target. “I can’t argue with that, sir.”
Longstreet eyed him for a moment, stroking his bread. “Colonel, you don’t have to love the Yankees, but they remain, in a real sense, our countrymen. I will not have them murdered in cold blood. Not only did you and everyone in your unit know about the killings and not inform your superiors, but I had to hear it from a French liaison officer who showed up under flag of truce. If you should happen to lay eyes on this son of a bitch Blandon, you will either arrest him or shoot him dead. Is that understood?”
Wade stood even straighter and saluted. He was being dismissed and would live to tell about it. As he rode back to where his Volunteers were camped, he thought it very likely that Blandon would indeed try to get in contact with him. And what would he do then, he wondered? Why, Corey Wade would do whatever was best for himself and his Volunteers.
He began to get angry. Just who the hell was Longstreet to scold him? Everyone knew that it was Longstreet’s inertia that had caused the attacks against the Union army at Gettysburg to go off late, thus condemning them to failure.
Abraham Lincoln was bemused at the audacity of the man standing before him. First, Lincoln sitting was just about as tall as George Brinton McClellan standing. He hadn’t been referred to as the Little Napoleon for nothing. Second, McClellan’s contempt for Lincoln was well known. On one occasion he’d actually snubbed his commander in chief, leaving the President cooling his heels in the living room of the general’s residence while the Little Napoleon took a nap upstairs. He’d even been among those who referred to Lincoln as a gorilla. So why had he asked for the “honor” of a private audience with the President?
The President was determined to be polite, if a little cynical. “To say I’m surprised that you wished to see me would be an understatement. But here we are and I am curious. Do you have a plan to . . . save the nation?” He gestured towards a chair but McClellan continued to stand.
“Yes sir, I do.”
“It is my understanding that you intend to run against me next year as the Democratic candidate.”
“If that is what the people wish, I will serve. But I see no need to wait more than a year to resolve the nation’s problem.”
“I’m all ears, General.” Lincoln had earlier decided he would not antagonize the conceited little man by ignoring his past military rank. After all, he was well educated and experienced. Halleck had told Lincoln there was no better staff officer. He might actually have something useful to contribute.
“As I see it, Mr. Lincoln, General Lee is safely ensconced in Pennsylvania and no move has been made to dislodge him. It is common knowledge that you have little confidence in General Meade and even less in the others in my old command, the Army of the Potomac.”
Lincoln nodded. “I also vaguely recall that you also held the position of Commanding General of all the Union armies, a position now held by General Halleck. I also recall removing you from both assignments.”
To his credit, McClellan showed no reaction. “And I recall stating that my removal would not accomplish victory for the Union. I believe I stand vindicated, sir.”
“That’s why you won’t sit down.”
“What?”
“Nothing, General,” he’d forgotten that the man had little sense of humor. “What do you specifically propose?”
McClellan shoved his hand into his jacket in that infuriating way of his. In military uniform the pose was bad enough, but in a civilian suit it was ridiculous. “It’s very simple. Restore me to my command. If you do not wish me to be in command of all the armies, then just that of the Army of the Potomac will suffice. I guarantee you that General Lee will not conquer either Washington or Baltimore.”
“Will you drive him from Pennsylvania and back down to Virginia? Will you destroy his army in the process, or will you simply push it and him back south? And if so, how will that bring an end to this war, sir?”
“Sir, like you, I am appalled by the amount of blood that has been spilled and is still being spilled. I would think that by now you would realize that the Confederacy cannot be defeated in the manner you desire. Therefore, the only alternative is a negotiated peace that will bring the killing to an end. What is happening now is not war; it is mass murder.”
Lincoln suppressed a bitter smile. Appalled. The man who had overseen the butchery of Antietam was “appalled.” “General, I will readily admit that you did a superb job of organizing and training the army. Yet, when it was time to go forth and do battle, you flinched. You had the absurd belief that you were greatly outnumbered when, in truth, you always greatly outnumbered the rebels. I still wonder why?”
“There are good reasons, sir. First, I still believe we were the lesser force numerically. I stand by what Mr. Pinkerton’s men reported and the method by which he carried out his calculations. Second, I was in the position of possibly losing the war in a few hours, and, third, the losses would have been horrific. One of the terrible truths of this Civil War is that all of the dead and wounded are Americans. Sir, we must negotiate an end to this tragedy, even if it means letting the South go its own way.”
Lincoln got to his feet, towering over the diminutive former general. “But if we negotiate, the only thing the South will want is its independence and the right to own slaves. If the former occurs, then the United States will cease to exist and if the latter occurs, we will have condemned an entire race of human beings to lives of cruel and involuntary servitude. It would mean that the Supreme Court’s Dred Scott decision would still be in effect and that the Emancipation Proclamation would be worthless.”
McClellan was not impressed. “And there are those who believe that the Lord wants the Negro to be subservient to the white man. It comes from the bible, from Genesis, where Ham, the son of Noah and his descendants, are doomed to be slaves. I submit, sir, that this is just what is happening now. Following the recent debacle, does anyone really think the South can be conquered?
“I do,” Lincoln said firmly. “Now I suggest you leave and make plans for your presidency should this nation be so unfortunate as to have you elected to this high office.”
McClellan’s face turned red. He wheeled and exited the room. One of Lincoln’s secretaries, John Hay, entered to find a clearly distressed Lincoln. “You may do two things, Mr. Hay. First, you will remind me never to be alone with that absurd and conceited creature again and, second, pull the drapes. I feel a headache coming on and must rest.”
Josiah Baird winced as he tried on his new crutches. They rubbed his armpit and he wished he had an artificial leg and a cane to steady himself with. He’d already tried a couple of wooden legs, and found them wanting. With all the money he had, he thought angrily, he ought to be able to find someone who could whittle a good one for him.
Again, he stood up and steadied himself. “Do you want me to help you?” Rachel asked.
“When I want help, I’ll ask for it.”
“I’m glad to see your temper is back to normal. Is this the thanks I get for bringing you back from the brink of celibacy last night?”
Josiah smiled quickly at the memory. “I am, as always, in debt to you. What happened was truly a miracle. I just want to be able to walk like I wasn’t a cripple.”
“But you’re not a cripple, dear. You’re a rich and powerful man who has a physical challenge that he will overcome. And since you are now a civilian, what will you do?”
He slipped some additional padding on the arm rest and managed to lurch around their room. They were no longer in the hospital. He had rented a large home several miles northwest of the District—he’d have preferred being closer to town, but that was a dream—and installed himself in a first-floor bedroom. He’d added staff, to include a young doctor and an old female nurse. It was far better than the hospital where, despite the fact that it was restricted to senior officers, was filled with noisy people giving treatments and wounded soldiers moaning and sometimes crying out in their pain and confusion. Once he thought he himself had cried out.
He hoped to God he hadn’t. He would not show weakness. If he did, his business rivals would pounce on him like jackals.
“I am going to talk to some of our people in Congress and try to call in some favors. I believe they owe me a few. Then I’m going to talk to Mr. Allan Pinkerton about an assignment. I feel he can do a better job locating one particular individual than he did estimating the size of the Confederate Army.”
“Does this have anything to do with our daughter?”
“It might just. I’ve picked up on a couple of rumors that need to be either verified or discounted. I’m also less than thrilled that she’s teaching those Negroes how to read. I have nothing against colored people being literate. I just object to her being out of the range of the army or the police. I want her protected.”
She smiled warmly and kissed him on the cheek. “Wonderful, dear husband, but don’t exhaust yourself. I want you at least as fresh and spry as y
ou were last night. And I want you as lusty and crude as you were when we first got married back when we were poor.”
He grinned hugely and patted her on her bottom. “I am your humble and devoted servant. It will be as you wish.”
The easiest way to protect the supply trains was to increase the number of guards, and this Thorne set out to do. Even better, now that his men had Spencer repeating rifles instead of muzzle-loaders, their firepower was increased by a factor of at least seven, perhaps even more when the psychological impact of rifles that seemed to fire forever was entered into the equation.
The number of men he commanded was a drop in the bucket when compared to the vast Union Army, while the number of supply trains seemed to be unending.
Railroads crisscrossed the land, but could not go everywhere, and even they were targets for raiders. Nor could the army be everywhere, either. There were enormous gaps between major units, which meant patrols and scouts were out looking both for those units and for changes in their locations and dispositions. Meade’s army was being reinforced, and intelligence said that Lee’s was as well, which might put their combined numbers close to a total of two hundred thousand men, an incredible number.
These numbers meant that Herculean efforts had to be expended to keep them supplied and, since the Confederates were always short on everything, plundering Union supplies was one way of keeping their men fed.
Despite the fact that the Army of Northern Virginia had moved into Pennsylvania, a rich farming area, they were already threatening to eat their way through that wealthy commonwealth. Anyone with half a brain understood that the status quo could not last forever. Something would have to give, and give soon.