by Ginny Dye
“President Davis has not given up hope that we might yet gain British recognition,” Robert said. “We didn’t have long to talk yesterday, but he believes there is a chance England will swing in our direction.”
“And if they do?” Thomas asked skeptically. “What good will it do us? It is still the actions of our troops on the field that will determine the outcome of this war.”
Carrie found herself agreeing with her father. She wasn’t sure what the excitement over foreign support was all about.
“England has the capacity to build the boats we need to smash the blockade,” Robert interjected. “The Union blockade is strangling us from all directions. Our troops are suffering because we can’t get supplies to them.”
“And men are dying for lack of medicine,” Carrie added. “Not to mention that people are going hungry.”
“Exactly,” Robert said, turning to her. “Davis realizes this spring is a critical time. If we can convince England to let us take possession of the ships that we need, there is still a chance we can smash the blockade and turn things around.”
“How long would it take to build these boats?” Thomas asked.
“They’re already being built,” Robert said excitedly. “Davis had hoped they would be ready this spring, but there have been delays.”
“And England will be release them to us?”
“Well,” Robert replied, “let’s just say it’s not clear what their intended use is. Our man over there has managed to quite cleverly cover any tracks that would indicate Confederate involvement. Davis told me the ships being built are regular battleships, heavily armed and armored. Tremendous advances have been made already in the naval industry, but these boats outshine anything constructed thus far. They are much more seaworthy than the sluggish monitors and far more powerful than any wooden warships afloat.” He stopped, his eyes shining. “With these boats we can break the blockade all along our coastline.”
Thomas leaned forward, genuine interest shining on his face. “That would make a tremendous difference,” he said. “If we could equip our armies properly, there is no one who could stop us.”
Carrie listened, contradictory feelings raging in her heart. She wanted to scream that she just wanted the fighting to stop. Instead, she turned to Robert. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand what this all has to do with you.”
“I’m getting to that,” Robert replied with a quick smile. “Davis wants to keep his pulse on British sentiment as closely as he can. He already has plenty of government officials there. He wants some common citizens who can get a feel for how the general population is reacting. He wants someone with expertise in farming to determine how hard the lack of cotton is hitting their economy.”
“Why would President Davis be interested in my going along?”
“I convinced him I would have a much better chance being accepted into British society if my wife went along with me,” Robert said, grinning triumphantly. “Just think of it, Carrie. We’ll be somewhere we can make a real difference. We’ll be together!”
“How long?” Carrie asked quietly, trying to determine why her heart was so heavy. Wasn’t this what she wanted? To be with Robert? Not to constantly be wondering whether he was dead or alive?
“Six, eight months. Maybe a year. As long as we can send back information that will be helpful, we’ll stay. By the time we get back, I’m sure this whole thing will be over.”
“When do you two leave?” Thomas asked in a tired voice. Then he leaned forward and took Carrie’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that. It will be the best thing for both of you. God knows, something needs to happen to turn things around here. I think Robert is right. If we can break the blockade, things will be different.”
“We leave in three days,” Robert said. “We have to take the train to Wilmington, North Carolina. We leave from there. It is one of the few places where the blockade can still be run.”
“Just how dangerous will this little expedition be?” Thomas asked sharply. “I can’t imagine the Union navy will simply wave and let you pass through.”
“President Davis assures me that there is not a great danger. We are being sent out on one of the newest blockade-running ships. She is fast and sleek. Nothing has stopped her yet.”
Thomas nodded while he folded his paper. “I have to get to the Capitol for a meeting. I’ll see you two tonight.” He turned to Carrie. “You’re going to the hospital today?”
Carrie nodded, grateful the morning conversation had allowed no discussion of what had kept her so late the night before. Somehow, in the light of Robert’s news, it had faded in her own mind. “Dr. Wild is expecting me around lunchtime. I’ll be home late.”
Robert waited until Thomas left the room and then turned to her, his face beaming. “You can tell Dr. Wild today that you won’t be coming back to the hospital. It will take us the three days to get everything ready.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Carrie said quietly, surprising even herself.
Robert quickly set his cup of coffee down, its contents sloshing onto the table. He ignored it. “What do you mean? Why not?”
Carrie took a deep breath. Somehow in the last few moments, she had reached her decision. “I can’t go to England with you, Robert.”
Robert stared at her in astonishment. “Whatever are you talking about?”
Carrie groped to find the words to express what she was feeling. “It’s not right. My work is here. The hospital. My patients.” She paused and then looked at him pleadingly. “They need me.”
Obviously at a loss for words, Robert continued to stare at her.
Carrie tried again. “I hate this war. The idea of being in London with you... away from everything... safe.” She paused. “Not to have to worry about you every day...” Her voice caught. “It sounds wonderful. ”
“Then...?”
Carrie shook her head. “It’s taken me till just recently to begin to make sense out of all of it. Not of the war - it will never make sense to me. I mean to make sense out of my purpose in it. As long as this war lasts, there will be thousands of wounded and maimed men. I can make a difference to them. I can’t go to medical school yet, but I can make a difference to every person who becomes one of my patients.” She stopped. Robert’s face told her that he wasn’t understanding her at all. “Working in the hospital isn’t just a job. It isn’t just a way to do my duty for the Confederacy. It’s who I am.” Willing him to understand, she gazed into his eyes. “It’s who I am, Robert.”
“You’re my wife,” Robert said, anger tightening his face. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re my wife,” he repeated.
Carrie stared at him with her heart sinking. “Yes, I’m your wife. And I love you.”
“But you won’t go to England with me?” he asked bitterly.
Carrie felt sick. Robert had been home only a few hours, and already they were fighting. “It’s not just the soldiers. There is also the black hospital to consider. If I leave, they won’t have anybody. Janie can continue as nurse, but they won’t have anybody as their doctor.”
“So you want me to go off to London wondering which night you will be killed by a band of men waiting for you?” Robert asked sarcastically.
Carrie felt her own anger rising and struggled to keep it under control. A shouting match would do neither of them any good. “You went off to fight when I didn’t want you to,” she said quietly. “You weren’t ready to go back into battle when you left this last time. You weren’t recovered from almost dying last year.”
“I had to go,” Robert snapped. “It was my duty. They’re not the same thing.”
“You told me you wished you never had to fight another battle,” Carrie reminded him.
“Well, yes, but I still have a home I’m fighting for. I still have people it is my duty to protect. You. Your father. My mother out on the plantation. I can’t just turn my back on them.”
“I know,” Carrie agr
eed. “No more than I can turn my back on the people here who need me.” She leaned closer. “It would be so easy to go to London and pretend there were not people back here injured and dying. It would be so easy to go and buy fancy dresses and pretend my friends weren’t cold and hungry. You have a job to do over there, Robert. In spite of the fact that taking me might make it easier for you to be accepted into society, you can still do your job without me.” Tears filled her eyes. “My job is here. Please don’t make me choose.”
Robert stood and stalked over to the window. He pushed the curtains aside and stared out wordlessly.
Carrie sat quietly, waiting for him to speak. Her earlier fears about getting married rose to taunt her. Had she married the man of her dreams only to find that he would rob her of another just as important dream? Her heart pulsed with a chaotic mix of love and resentment. She knew all of her friends, with the possible exception of Janie, would have just smiled sweetly and gone along, burying their own thoughts and desires. She knew her mother would have done that for her father. She wanted to bury her head in her hands, but she remained straight. Was there something wrong with her? Her mother used to tell her she would never find a man who would put up with her willful ways. Was Robert already regretting his decision to marry her?
Robert finally turned away from the window. Carrie searched his face for an indication of what he was feeling. He was silent, looking deep into her eyes. She returned his gaze evenly, not sure what he was looking for but quite certain she would not apologize for what she had said honestly.
“Come here,” he said hoarsely, holding out his arms.
Carrie sprang to her feet and moved into his arms.
Robert held her close for a long minute. “I knew I was marrying a hard-headed woman,” he muttered. Pushing her away, he tilted her chin up until their eyes met. “I may not agree with you, but I have to respect how you feel. You’ve worried and waited for me for the last two years. I guess it’s my turn to see how it feels,” he said ruefully. He took a deep breath and then pulled her back against him roughly. “I’m proud of you, Carrie Borden. I hope every one of your patients realizes how lucky they are.”
Carrie made no attempt to stop the tears streaming down her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, relief mixing with the ache that already filled her heart at the idea of saying good-bye again. “I love you.”
CHAPTER NINE
Robert took a deep breath as the train rounded a curve and Carrie and her father slipped from view. The last three days with his beautiful wife had been wonderful. He smiled, remembering, but then frowned. Would their entire marriage be one of saying good-bye? He hadn’t wanted to let go of her at the train station. He’d wanted to order her to go home, get her bags, and go with him like any good wife would. He hadn’t, of course. Carrie wasn’t any wife. She was independent, strong-willed, and full of dreams she would do anything to accomplish. It was only one of the many reasons why he loved her.
“Off to the front?” the porter asked cheerfully, taking Robert’s ticket as he strode by.
“London,” Robert said curtly.
“Yeah?” the stocky man said admiringly. “My wife and I have always wanted to go to England. Maybe when this crazy war is over.”
Robert bit his lip and turned away to find his seat on the crowded train. It had only been a few minutes and already the vision of Carrie’s shining green eyes framed by her glossy black hair haunted him, created a longing in him. He sat down and turned to stare out the window. It would be months before he would see her again. What if Richmond fell during that time? What if something happened to her? He groaned inwardly and clenched his fists.
He’d had no choice but to let her stay. He knew that, but the knowledge failed to offer any comfort. She would have come if he’d insisted, but part of her heart would have stayed in Richmond. Forced to choose between him and her work, she would have harbored resentment. Robert knew Carrie loved him with all her heart. Why couldn’t that be enough for her? Overcome with longing, he pressed his head against the window. The last few days had not offered much sleep. When he wasn't preparing for his trip or in meetings, he had soaked up all of his wife that he could. Exhaustion blurred his vision.
The clacking of the train numbed his mind after a long while. The wheels sang to him, their song echoing the disharmony in his heart. Carrie… London... Carrie… London..... Finally he slept.
It was almost dark when the train pulled into the Wilmington station. Rubbing his eyes, Robert stumbled onto the platform. What was normally a one day trip had stretched into two. There had been constant stops and delays as troops were loaded and unloaded, tracks were switched, and loads of supplies taken on or off. His growling stomach reminded him he’d had little to eat that day. The food Carrie had sent with him had long since run out.
Robert took a deep breath of the salty port town air and felt some of his energy return. The cramped confines of the train had almost driven him mad. He set his bag down and gazed around. There was no reason to expect someone to meet him since trains in the Confederacy never followed a schedule. Travelers were lucky if they eventually reached their destination.
The streets, even at this time of night, were still crowded and noisy. Robert gazed around, astonished. Robert had been to the city many times on business. If he hadn’t heard the porter call out “Wilmington!’” he would never have recognized what had once been a conservative old port town.
“Ain’t been here for a while, boy?” An observant old man chuckled from where he sat on a bench along the wall.
“Several years,” Robert admitted.
“It’s changed a bit,” the old man said laconically, pausing to spit a long wad of tobacco into a nearby spittoon.
“I’d say,” Robert continued to stare around him.
“The war changed things, boy,” the old man continued. “We’re one of the major blockade-running ports. Got more agents and traders in this city now than we do birds. Why, heck, we got as many Englishmen in this city now as we do Confederates. This town has been taken over by English ship owners and fellows from those huge mercantile houses. They’ll spend any kind of money to entertain folks around here,” he said proudly. “We got all kinds around here who decided they loved the cause of the South once they realized how much profit could be made.” He shot another long string of black juice. “Can’t say as how I blame them. I reckon I’ve made more money in the last two years than I’ve made in my whole life.”
Robert shot him a curious look.
The old man nodded complacently. “Built me a few warehouses down along the waterfront. They stay full of stuff being shuttled back and forth. No matter how hard they try, the North can’t keep our cotton from going out. Things have slowed down a bit, I agree, but the increase in price has more than made up for it.”
Robert silently wondered how long the man would be talking this way if the Union blockade finally succeeded in choking off the supplies the Confederacy needed so badly. He also wondered what kind of tune the man would be singing if he had to spend a winter in Richmond suffering the privations citizens there were without the excesses flowing as they were here.
“You Robert Borden?” he asked suddenly.
Robert peered at him more closely. “Who are you?” He was suddenly suspicious of anyone who would talk so freely. President Davis had warned him that all the major Confederate cities were full of Union spies. It didn’t seem possible that someone had gotten wind of his mission, but he knew he couldn’t be too careful.
“The name is Silas McCormick,” the grizzled old man said cheerfully. “You sure fit the description I was given. You’re a day late, though.”
“The trains were running late,” Robert acknowledged carefully.
“So you are Robert Borden.”
“I might be.”
Silas barked a wheezy laugh. “Son, I don’t have time for a lot of espionage games. I’ve been sitting at this railroad station for two days, waiting for someone who matched your
description to get off some train. I don’t mind telling you I’m tired. Saw another fellow that looks like you get off a couple of hours ago,” he offered, “but he didn’t have a red handkerchief in his pocket, so I let him go.”
“You know about the red handkerchief?” Robert asked in relief, glad the men preparing him for his trip had insisted he carry it.
“You don’t think Captain Bueller will let just anyone on his fancy new boat, do you?” The old man stood, his eyes suddenly shining with purpose. “Are you Robert Borden, or are you not?” he demanded impatiently.
“I’m Robert Borden.”
Silas nodded with satisfaction. “I knew I was right. Now can we stop playing our games?” he snapped. His voice grew gentler. “I know you have to be careful, boy, but my stomach is just saying it wants to eat - not that it wants to play games.”
Robert grinned suddenly. “Our stomachs are in agreement, Silas.”
“Good!” Silas said heartily. “Follow me.”
Robert was hard-pressed to keep up with the agile old man as he wove his way through throngs of people crowding the streets. Music spilled from lighted saloons. Colorfully dressed women strolled arm-in-arm with elegantly attired gentleman. It reminded him of Richmond when the war was still young - before it became a battered, tired city under siege. He watched wistfully as a dark-haired beauty laughed gaily up at her handsome escort. Carrie would love this. An ache shot through him.
“We’re almost there!” Silas called out loudly, continuing to thread his way through the masses.
Robert took a deep breath and pushed on. Soon he was seated in front of the most sumptuous meal he had had in months. He felt guilty as he shoveled in the thick slices of ham and turkey, the mounds of steaming vegetables, and the slabs of fragrant bread. Finally he shook his head. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled through his last bite. “Fresh food is as scarce as gold in the capital.”
“That’s what we hear,” Silas agreed. “We can get the supplies in here, but getting them to Richmond is another matter all together. Sometimes the army claims it for their men; sometimes the shipments just never get there. Not to mention that we just don’t get enough. Oh sure, the people of Wilmington are living high on the hog, but you don’t have to go far before it changes. Wilmington and Charleston are the two main ports left for the blockade-runners. We just can’t get enough through here.”