On To Richmond

by Ginny Dye

  Rose hesitated.

  Matthew answered for her. “I helped her with a little run in with Ike Adams today.”

  Aunt Abby frowned. “Ike Adams? “ Then her voice sharpened. “Isn’t he the old overseer from Carrie’s plantation?”

  Rose nodded mutely.

  Aunt Abby took a deep breath and stepped back from Matthew. “Why don’t we go into the parlor? I’d say we all have a lot of talking to do.”

  “I’d say you’re right,” Matthew agreed with a smile.

  It was past midnight when Rose wearily climbed the stairs to her room. Matthew and Aunt Abby were still talking. Aunt Abby’s laughter pealed through the house again as Matthew made her laugh. Rose was happy for her, but her own aching for Moses had deepened. She had longed all night to hear another knock on the door so that she could open it to find Moses standing on the stoop.

  She stared out the window for a long time. Matthew had assured her Adams would no longer be a threat. She had questioned him about what had happened, but his face had merely grown grim when he said, “Ike Adams is basically a selfish man. He will always look out for himself first. I convinced him it would not be healthy for him to mess with either you or Moses.” That was all he would say. His calm assurance had comforted her, but she couldn’t help peering out the window to see if Adams’ wiry form was outside lurking behind a bush, his beady eyes watching them.

  Finally she turned away from the window and retreated to her bed. She couldn’t help the tears that engulfed her as she longed for Moses’ strength to shield her. Her body still ached from her struggle today. When the tears had run their course, she lay in bed quietly, thinking of all they had talked about tonight. She was so glad to know Carrie was doing well. She had eagerly absorbed everything Matthew had told her.

  She could hardly believe it when Matthew told her Carrie’s father still believed she and Moses were still on the plantation, along with Ike Adams. He had evidently accepted Carrie’s explanation that she could not send Moses to the city last October because he was needed on the plantation to prepare for this year’s food crops. How long could she get away with what she was doing?

  His voice had broken when he said, “Carrie Cromwell made my stay in prison bearable. Her visits and gifts were like a light in the darkness. The food she had Opal bring me was sometimes all that gave us the hope to keep going. We knew there was at least one person who cared about what was going on behind those walls.”

  Aunt Abby had listened with tears in her eyes. “What now, Matthew?” she had asked.

  Matthew had shrugged. “I will keep doing what I was doing. I have my old job back on the paper. This war has just barely begun. I will have my work cut out for me to try and make sense to the reading public what is happening in our country. ”

  Rose had latched on to what he had said. She would continue to work hard, to prepare, so that when her time was ready she would be able, by education and caring, to make sense out of the world to the scores of blacks who would be suddenly free.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Moses gazed around him in awe as he marched toward the Alexandrian docks. His mind traveled back to the little rowboats he and Rose had traveled on during their escape. He had been told that hundreds of vessels of every imaginable kind were arriving at the wharves of the historic little brick town that had marked the head of deep-water navigation on the Potomac since colonial days. Nothing they had told him prepared him for the sight that met him when they rounded the last curve.

  “A sight to behold, isn’t it?”

  Moses nodded as he turned to his new friend, James. “It sure is. What are all those things? Other than boats,” he added quickly. “That much I can figure out myself.” He had already found himself the brunt of many jokes and hateful jibes the last few weeks. He was learning to be very careful what he said. He had discovered the Northern white was much like the Southern white.

  James smiled easily. “That one there is a Philadelphia ferryboat.” Then he pointed to one with a huge wheel. “That one is a Long Island Sound side-wheeler. Over there is a Hudson River excursion boat.” His voice grew more excited. “The real big one is a transatlantic passage.” He continued on to point out schooners, barges, and canal boats. “I hear there are going to be almost three hundred of them making trips back and forth till the whole army has been moved.”

  Moses stared about him, fascinated. “I reckon it takes a lot to move over 100,000 men.”

  James nodded. “Not to mention all the animals, supplies, and food.”

  Moses turned to look at him. “How come you know so much about boats?”

  James shrugged, his eyes lighting with excitement. “I’ve loved boats since I was just a little boy fishing off the Maine coast. My father captained his own boat for a while. He taught me most of what I know. After this crazy war is over, I hope to own my own fishing fleet. I had just saved enough money to buy my own boat when the war started.”

  Moses nodded. He knew about thwarted dreams.

  “Hey! Look at the big nigger,” someone yelled off to his right. “Didn’t anybody tell him the Union army doesn’t need dumb niggers?” Raucous laughter followed his statement.

  Moses continued to stare straight ahead. It would do no good to respond. He had already been in a few fights. His brute strength had easily triumphed each time, but he wasn’t here to fight. He had finally decided the best course was to ignore whatever was said to him. Violence was no way to fight prejudice. He would let his actions speak for themselves.

  “I’m sorry, Moses,” James said sympathetically.

  Moses shrugged. “I can’t let ignorance bother me. I’ll spend my whole life being bothered if I do. I just aim to prove myself.” Then he smiled at James. “At least everyone around here isn’t ignorant.” He had met James just a few days after he had joined McClellan’s army. James was just as big as he was - just as big and just as powerful. The two had talked for hours and become close friends. Most of the soldiers left Moses alone now. They had no desire to take on the two of them. Moses had made a few other friends but none he liked as well as James.

  In front of them, men marched up ship gangplanks in steady procession. Moses watched, once again in awe, as steam derricks hoisted aboard wagons, guns and supplies. Even artillery horses were hoisted aboard in slings. Nothing during his years on the plantation had prepared him for such innovations. He was quickly realizing the world was much more complex and fascinating than he had ever imagined.

  Everywhere there was laughter and cheering. McClellan’s army was happy to be free of their winter quarters, and warm weather had lifted their spirits even more. Flags flew from many of the ships, making the event seem more like a pleasure excursion than the transporting of an army looking for the enemy. Bands played and ships whistles shrieked.

  Moses held his head high as he marched with the rest of the men up the plank. He was fulfilling his dream of having a role, no matter how small, in the efforts of the Union army. He would soon be back in the South that had stolen his freedom and robbed him of his family. His mind traveled back to one of the first conversations he had had with a sympathetic officer.

  “You need to be careful, Moses. The efforts to return runaway slaves has increased even more since you left. The slave hunters and militia will stop at nothing. If they find out you’re working with the Union, they will kill you,” he said bluntly. “There have already been hangings.”

  Moses had nodded solemnly. “I’ll be careful.”

  He had been thinking about the officer’s words ever since. He wasn’t afraid, but neither would he be careless. He thought about Rose. Then he thought about his mama and sisters. There was too much at stake.

  With a shriek of the whistle, the boat Moses was on drew away from the dock and headed down the river for the open sea. Moses hung against the railing and drank in all he could. Up ahead he saw some smaller boats moving swiftly down the river.

  James saw the direction he was looking. “Navy gunboats,
” he said. “They’re going to prowl the Virginia shoreline looking for Rebel raiders that might try to attack the boats.”

  Moses grinned. “Do they really think the Confederates have anything that could come after so many ships?” The idea seemed preposterous to him as he watched the impressive display of strength.

  James nodded grimly. “They know they do.” When Moses shot a questioning look at him, he continued. “Did you not hear about the Merrimack?”

  Moses shook his head.

  “It’s ironic, really. The Merrimack was one of the most powerful warships the Union ever built. When Virginia seceded, the Navy tried to get the boat out, but Commandant McCauley was convinced there was no way to fight off the Confederates. So the old guy had the naval yard torched and then sank all the ships.”

  “The Merrimack wasn’t sunk?”

  “Oh, yes,” James laughed. “They sank it all right. Then the Rebels came in right behind them and raised it again. She’s not really the Merrimack anymore. They renamed her the Virginian. Anyway,” he continued, “I’ve been told they completely remodeled the ship into something that doesn’t look like any ship that has ever floated. They wrapped that boat all up in iron. They say nothing can do her harm.”

  “You reckon that’s true?” Moses tried to picture what James was describing.

  James shrugged. “Evidently. A few weeks ago the Merrimack attacked the Federal blockading squadron in Hampton Roads. The monster destroyed two of our ships and drove two more ashore. I heard someone say the cannon shot fired at her glanced off like pebble stones.”

  Moses whistled and looked out to sea. What awaited them out there?

  It wasn’t long before he could not have cared less. Once they struck the ocean, the swells of six to seven feet made life miserable for a great number of them. His own stomach had started turning flips.

  James merely grinned. “I didn’t know black men could turn green,” he teased. Then he had shaken his head. “There isn’t anything to do but ride it out. You’ll feel like dying, but it will get better.”

  Moses hung onto his words all the time he was leaning over the water, his insides heaving violently. He had never been so sick in his life. The only thing giving him any comfort was that scores of other men hung over the railings with him as the putrid stench of vomit filled the air.

  It was two full days before he cared enough to notice what was going on around him. He had half of a day to enjoy his new seaworthiness before they caught their first glimpse of Fort Monroe. There were still men too sick to move from their bunks, but most of the men crowded eagerly around the railings again to catch sight of their destination.

  Fort Monroe was the largest coastal fortress in America. The enormous hexagonal masonry work was a whole third of a mile across.

  As Moses craned to see the fort, James appeared at his side. “That fort was finished about fifteen years ago. It’s sitting right on the tip of the Virginia peninsula. I’ve heard the guns in that place are really something.”

  “Why do we still have it if it’s in Virginia?” Moses asked. He was realizing more and more that he had a lot to learn.

  James smiled. “The fort was too strongly defended for the Rebels to even try to take it.”

  Moses nodded and continued to stare. The harbor looked much like the one they had left two days earlier. Boats bobbed everywhere - mixing with the navy warships stationed there. Suddenly Moses pointed. “What’s that thing?”

  James smiled again. “You mean that little boat that looks like a Yankee cheesebox on a raft? That’s the Monitor. Some say she looks like a tin can on a shingle. She was built when the Union navy discovered what the Rebels had done with the Merrimack.”

  “Can the Monitor take on the Merrimack?”

  James nodded. “They did just that a couple of weeks ago. The Monitor was sent down to avenge Union honor. I hear they battled to a draw. Neither did much damage to the other. Just a bunch of shot and cannon bouncing off metal.” He shrugged. “One thing is for sure. The day of wooden warships is over for good. They don’t have a wooden nickel chance of standing against the ironclads.”

  Moses nodded and continued to stare at the scene unfolding before him. Suddenly an order was shouted to the men. They would not disembark tonight. They would stay on the ship until morning. There was simply no place for them to dock. Grumbling and complaining, the men soon decided to make the best of it. Cheers rang out all around when men from one of the New York regiments hauled out a barrel of whiskey they had smuggled aboard at Alexandria.

  Moses watched the men crowd around the whiskey barrel and then went in search of a quiet place. He knew what alcohol could do to men. Weaving through bodies, he made his way to the front of the ship and found a secluded place to watch the activity on shore.

  That’s where they found him. He was lost in thought, thinking about Rose when he heard them shout his name.

  “Moses! Oh, Moses!” One man stumbled against some of the rigging and let out a curse. “Come on out, nigger boy. We want to talk to you.”

  Moses edged closer to the bow and looked around for a weapon. A stout stick was all he could find. He gripped it tightly and turned to face the three men approaching him. All of them were reeling drunk. He didn’t think he would have trouble handling them, but he was sick to death of the hatred he saw surrounding him.

  “Well, here’s the nigger boy!” The largest and drunkest soldier turned to his two companions. “You know, boys, this nigger must be pretty special to get to be a part of us. What do you think makes him so special?”

  One of the men laughed coarsely. “Maybe he’s gonna lead us to all the fine nigger girls along the way who will make us happy. I hear tell those women make fine lovers.”

  Moses’ face flushed with anger, and he gripped his stick tighter. His muscles coiled as the men drew closer.

  Suddenly James appeared with two other men beside him. James reached forward and grabbed the big man. Without speaking, he turned and dragged his thrashing figure across the deck of the boat. The other two men grabbed the remaining troublemakers. They quickly dragged the drunks over to a door leading below, opened it, and tossed them down the stairs unceremoniously. Then they slammed the door shut.

  James joined him in the bow. “Sorry, Moses. We knew they were looking for trouble tonight. I guess they’re a little anxious about what is coming.”

  Moses heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks,” he said heavily. He was tired of fighting. He turned his head to look out over the ocean again. Would he always have to battle misunderstanding and prejudice? Would the darkness of men’s hearts and the stark injustice of the slavery system that had brought his people to these shores haunt him for the rest of his life? His own heart was heavy within him as he stared out at the gentle swells catching the last rays of the setting sun.

  Something Sarah had told him once seemed to float to him on the waves. “You be a leader, Moses. Bein’ a leader can be a right lonely thin’ at times. You gets to fight for all dem people ‘round you dat be too scared or too lazy to fight for demselves. Bein’ a leader means you got to stand up to folks when other folks be lying down. Bein’ a leader means you got to blaze a trail where dere ain’t one. Ain’t nothin’ lonelier dan goin’ somewhere on yo’ own.” Then she had reached forward and taken his hand. “But you remember this, boy. Ain’t nothin’ better dan bein’ a leader. Ain’t nothin’ better dan knowin’ something you done has made life better for folks. It’s what makes you hold your head high. It’s what makes your heart keep beatin’. It’s what makes life worth livin’. You can’t be a leader and pretend you’re not.”

  Moses felt stronger as Sarah’s words filled his heart. Being a leader was indeed lonely. But Sarah had been right. There was no other way to live. There was no other way he wanted to live.

  Early the next morning, Moses moved onto land with the troops. He was glad to leave the bobbing ship and put his feet on solid ground. As soon as they landed, the order was given to march. Mo
ses looked around as they moved quickly through the hastily laid out camps on the outskirts of the fort. Their marching brought them to the outskirts of Hampton. Moses stared at the forest of charred chimneys lining the skyline. “What happened here? Was there a battle?”

  “Hardly!” James snorted. “Magruder, the Confederate general running the show around here heard the North was planning on turning Hampton into a settlement for runaway slaves.”

  “He burned his own city?” Moses asked in disbelief.

  James shrugged. “I think the guy is nuts. He decided he could not bear to see the city suffer such desecration, so he burned it to the ground.”

  Moses just stared at the destruction in front of him. Once more he was reminded of the passions ruling unrestrained in the country. It also drove home to him how careful he must be. Passions that could wreak such destruction would not hesitate to kill him if his Union loyalties were discovered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Robert had been in Richmond almost a week before he was able to break away from his duties to have dinner with Thomas Cromwell. He could feel the anxiety and fear pulsating in the air as he rode his horse through the streets. It felt like a living thing he could reach out and touch. The city, once so gaily defiant, was now afraid. He shook his head grimly as he pushed his horse through the crowds and moved as quickly as he could down Broad Street. The beauty of a glorious spring day was wasted on everyone he saw. The drawn lines in their faces and the trouble in their eyes said tragedy was about to fall.

  “Robert! It’s good to see you. Come in,” Thomas said warmly as soon as Micah announced his arrival.

  Robert knew Thomas had not brought him here for small talk. There were too many serious situations brewing in their country.

  Thomas turned to him as soon as he sat down. “I’m so glad you were able to come. I have been longing to talk to you. I spend hours talking to politicians. I have found myself needing the cold logic of a military officer to balance things out.”