Once a Rebel

by Mary Jo Putney

  As the heavy rain persisted, her stepson was buried in the muddy graveyard of St. Paul’s Church. Trey couldn’t attend and Molly flatly refused to, so they stayed home while Callie, Richard, Josh, and Sarah attended.

  Since Reverend Harbow knew nothing of the deceased, he asked if anyone wanted to say a few words. Callie had a sudden horrific urge to shout, “My stepson was a bully and a brute and I’m glad I killed him!”

  She choked back the words and buried her face in her hands, hoping her reaction looked like grief. Richard smoothly rose to his feet. “I didn’t know Henry Newell in life, and due to the sad circumstances, we will never be members of the same family. A sophisticated man of the world who had been educated in Britain, he was well known in his native Jamaican society and will be greatly missed by all his friends.”

  If he had any, Callie thought, not lifting her head. Though Jamaica certainly had other drunken brutes, so perhaps he did.

  Richard continued, “His extraordinary journey to America in search of his brother, sister, and stepmother will never be forgotten by them. I know that he was beloved by his mother and father, and with the grace of God, he is surely with them now.” Richard bowed his head. “May Henry Newell know peace.”

  Callie realized that last sentence sounded sincere. Perhaps it was.

  Thus ended the mortal existence of Henry Newell. Richard gave generous fees to the church and to the vicar, and commissioned a very respectable tombstone that gave Henry’s name, dates of birth and death, and another pious wish that he rest in peace.

  As the four nominal mourners walked home through the saturated streets, Josh remarked, “I’m glad I went. I wanted to make sure that devil was dead!”

  His comment made the others break out in tension-relieving laughter. The battle for Baltimore was still in progress, but at least the devil was dead.

  They arrived back at the warehouse to find Molly and Trey sleeping. Richard and Josh took the spyglass out to the balcony to observe the continuing cannonade. They had an excellent view of the flashes from mortars and the rockets blazing through the skies.

  Despite the rain, adjacent rooftops held numerous solemn observers of the battle. From this distance it was impossible to know how the battle was progressing, but the continuing bombardment was a good sign because it meant Fort McHenry had not yet surrendered.

  Callie and Sarah headed to the kitchen to prepare supper. Callie sliced ham and cheese while Sarah made a batch of her lemonade, using the last of the lemons. With the city under siege, who knew when lemons might be available again? “A good thing you bought this Virginia ham. It’s kept us fed for days.”

  “Lots of fine things you can do with a ham,” Sarah agreed as she split biscuits in half and layered ham and cheese in the middle. “Soon that bone will end its days in a pot of bean soup. But it’s a pity we don’t have fancier food on hand. If ever a funeral deserved celebrating, it’s this one!”

  Callie laughed, then covered her mouth with one hand. “I keep thinking I should be more respectful, but I can’t.”

  “Justice was done, and we got away with it,” Sarah said with a glint of humor in her eyes. “I can tell you that a heavy, heavy load has been lifted from my soul.”

  “I’m starting to feel less dreadful about what I did.” The griddle had been heating over the small fire, so Callie melted a knob of butter, then covered the cast iron surface with ham and cheese biscuits.

  As the cheese gently melted and the biscuits browned, Callie wiped her hands on a small towel. Without looking at her friend, she said, “Richard has asked me to marry him for real, not just to fool the doctor and the vicar.”

  “Are you going to say yes?” Sarah asked with interest.

  “I don’t know,” Callie said in a low voice. “When he first asked in Washington, the idea seemed out of the question. I had too many other responsibilities. But the more time that passes, the harder it is to imagine not having him around.”

  “Your Lord George, or Gordon or Richard or Audley or whatever he calls himself, is a fine man and he thinks the sun rises and sets on you.” Sarah grinned. “And as handsome a fellow as I’ve ever seen. Why are you dragging your heels?”

  “Because you’re my family, and I can’t bear the thought of leaving you!” she blurted out painfully. “And I’d have to leave because Richard wants to return to his home in England.”

  “Miss Callista, you look at me instead of that griddle,” Sarah said firmly. When Callie raised her gaze, Sarah continued, “You are the beloved angel of my family. You carried us out of slavery like God’s own chariot and you supported us when we hadn’t a penny to bless ourselves with.

  “Best of all, you gave us the chance to raise our heads and become free and independent. You gave us the lives we have now and the futures we can look forward to.” Her voice softened. “Now it’s time to move into your own life. If you love him, why not marry him?”

  “I don’t know that I love him the way you and Josh love each other, or the way Molly and Peter feel about each other. Richard and I were best friends. I think we still are. Is that a strong enough foundation for marriage?”

  “Every marriage has its own story,” Sarah mused. “They all start in different places and follow different paths. Josh and I fell in love when we were about the same age as Molly and young Peter, and we jumped over the broom together long before we were able to get officially married in a church. Did you know that Master Matthew bought me from another plantation so me and Josh could be together?”

  “I didn’t know that,” Callie said, startled at her ignorance of another large piece of her friend’s story. “That was incredibly kind of him.”

  “Josh asked him to buy me and he did because he valued Josh and I was cheap, just being a scullery maid at the time,” Sarah said with a laugh. “He got a bargain since I turned into such a fine cook.

  “But he didn’t have to make it possible for us to be together, and I’ve never forgotten.” Her voice turned nostalgic. “Josh and I loved each other then and we love each other now, but that love has grown and changed over the years. It’s quieter, deeper, stronger. Beyond anything we could imagine when we were young and just wanted to get each other naked.”

  “I don’t have to know that!” Callie exclaimed. “It’s like thinking of my parents sharing a bed.”

  Sarah laughed. “I’m just saying that if you don’t love your man now the way you think you should, I guarantee you’ll come to love him in ways you’ve never dreamed of. You’re a good woman and he’s a good man, and together you’ll find good ways of loving.”

  Callie drew a deep, slow breath. “So you’re giving me your blessing?”

  Sarah crossed the small kitchen to draw Callie into her arms. “I am. You’ve lived for us for so long. Now it’s time to live for yourself. Doesn’t mean we won’t still love you or you don’t love us. We’ll write lots of letters. Maybe you’ll come for a visit someday, or maybe we’ll visit you. I’ve a mind to see London before I die.”

  Callie hugged Sarah, wishing her own mother had been so warm and wise. Then she smelled something scorching and pulled away to swiftly flip the biscuits on the griddle before they burned.

  Sarah had given her much to think about. Her friends didn’t really need her anymore. The thought was sad—but it was also liberating.

  Chapter 28

  The half dozen chairs on the balcony had been improved with padded burlap sacking and they made a fine gallery for viewing the bombardment of Baltimore. Callie and Sarah carried out platters of steaming ham and cheese biscuits, a pitcher of lemonade, and two small bowls of pickled onions.

  Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, they lured followers, in this case Molly and Trey, who had woken up hungry. Trey used an improvised cane Josh had fashioned for him.

  Sarah asked, “How are you feeling? You look stronger.”

  “I’m fine,” her grandson said cheerfully as he took a chair beside his grandfather. “I can go back to the battlefield tomorrow
.”

  “No, you will not!” Sarah and Callie said in unison. Sarah continued, “This battle will be won or lost without you. You’ve done your part.”

  Callie chose the chair next to Gordon. Within patting distance, he was pleased to see as he bit through the crispy crust of a ham and cheese biscuit and washed it down with a swallow of lemonade. Lightly spiked with brandy, he noted. Sarah knew how to soothe a household in difficult times.

  After swiftly demolishing a biscuit, Callie asked, “How goes the battle?”

  “We don’t know.” He passed her the spyglass and reached for another ham and cheese biscuit. “Between the darkness and the rain, all we can see is the bombs and rockets blasting at the Star Fort and the battery across at Lazaretto Point.”

  She adjusted the spyglass. “When a rocket goes off over the fort, I can see the brick walls, but nothing more.” She sighed and passed the spyglass on to Sarah. “What a very, very strange day this is.”

  “Someday the history books will describe this day as the Battle of Baltimore and this will all be seen as obvious and predictable because history books know who won,” Gordon mused. “But tonight it’s a mystery. For what it’s worth, I’m beginning to feel optimistic for the city. The Royal Navy has been blasting away at the fort for hours to very little effect.”

  “Looks to me like the British ships have cannons with a greater range than the American guns,” Josh said judiciously. “But keeping far enough away to stay safe maybe makes the cannons less accurate.”

  “I can’t hear any firing from the east,” Molly said. “Do you think the British troops have withdrawn?” she asked without much hope.

  “More likely the two armies are staring at each other and shifting their troops around like a chess game,” Gordon replied. “The American forces are much larger and they’re dug in behind formidable earthworks. My guess is that the British troops are waiting for the naval attack to succeed. If that happens, the British Army attacks and the city will be caught like a nut in a nutcracker.” He demonstrated a pincer movement with thumb and forefinger.

  Molly winced at a particularly ear-numbing blast. “They must be able to hear this in Washington!”

  “Maybe even in Philadelphia,” Trey said as he scooped up two more biscuits.

  Callie sighed. “How long can the British keep this up? They’ve been blasting away for”—she paused to calculate—“fifteen hours now. Won’t they run out of ammunition?”

  “Eventually, but they haven’t yet,” Josh said grimly. “The fort isn’t using as much since they know the British warships are out of range of their guns. I guess they’re saving their ammunition to use if the British come closer.”

  They ate in silence until all the food and drink were gone. The spyglass had come to rest with Callie, who looked through it now and then. “Even though we can’t see much of anything, there’s a ghastly fascination to it all,” she observed.

  “Maybe so,” Josh said as he got to his feet. “But I’m tired. Wake me if anything interesting happens.”

  Sarah also rose. “You can get used to anything, can’t you? I’m pretty sure I can sleep through a few hundred more cannon shots. Molly, Trey, time for bed for you, too. These have been difficult days.”

  Proof of their fatigue was that the young people headed inside without protest. Josh slung his arm around Sarah’s shoulders and they followed.

  “It’s just us now. Come sit on my lap,” Gordon suggested. “I find it comforting.”

  “So do I.” Callie rose from her chair and scooped up a blanket from their pallet, which was still made up between the tobacco barrels. When she settled into his welcoming lap, she tugged the blanket over them both and rested her head on his shoulder with a sight of relaxation. “I could become accustomed to this.”

  “I hope you do.” Gordon toyed with her hair, pulling out the pins she’d used earlier to look like a respectable widow. Then he combed the heavy silken mass over her shoulders. “I love your hair. It shines red-gold in the glare of the Congreve rockets.”

  “I think we’re a little too far away for that,” she said with a laugh. “I hate those horrible rockets—they shoot around like mad things. I’ll never forget when the British blasted two of them into my house.” She sighed. “That seems a thousand years ago.”

  “I feel the same. So much has happened since then. We’re living in a strange limbo.” He frowned as he tried to define his feelings. “It’s odd not doing anything. I’m not used to being a spectator. Generally when there’s trouble, I’m either fighting or fleeing for my life.”

  She chuckled. “I expect you fight more often than you flee. Where are your loyalties now?”

  “I admire this city. Boys like Trey and a handful of canny old veterans like Sam Smith are facing down the greatest military power on earth. Wellington’s Invincibles defeated Napoleon himself, yet inexperienced American troops are holding the line against them.” He let his hand rest on the nape of her neck, warm and protective. “I don’t want to see Baltimore defeated.”

  “Neither do I.” Callie yawned. “As Josh said, wake me if something interesting happens.”

  “I will. Sleep well, Catkin,” he whispered. He loved having her sleeping in his arms. Their intimacies of the previous night had made this possible. How long until she was so used to having him around that she’d be willing to marry him? Not long, he hoped. He wanted to go home, and he wanted Callie by his side.

  Despite the continuing cannonade, he also dozed. Then an abrupt change woke him up. Not more cannon blasts, but silence. Eerie silence. The bombardment had stopped.

  He came sharply alert, staring out at the dark, rain-filled skies over Fort McHenry. In the distance, a clock struck four times.

  Callie stirred, then snapped awake. “The guns have stopped firing! The battle for the fort must be over, but who won?”

  “Impossible to tell,” he said grimly. “But even if Fort McHenry has surrendered, the Royal Navy will still have to pass by the blockade of ships that were sunk in the channel. That won’t be easy.”

  She stared into the darkness with frustration. “I hate not knowing!”

  “So do I,” he agreed as he tightened his arms around her. “There are so many things to hate about war, but lack of information about what is happening is one of the worst. We’ll have to wait until dawn to see which flag is flying over the fort.”

  She slid from his lap and stretched. “You make a good mattress, but my muscles are stiff.”

  “So are mine.” He rose creakily from the chair. Even burlap padding wasn’t enough to make it comfortable for a night’s sleep. “Shall we pace back and forth along the balcony?”

  “I have an idea.” She moved behind the chair and began kneading his neck and shoulders. It felt wonderful. More proof of the physical ease between them.

  When she was done, he did the same for her, some of the massage moving into areas that made her swat his hand away. “Behave!” she ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly.

  When they were feeling more flexible, they walked back and forth on the balcony, holding hands while watching the darkness and rain. He thought about the troops out in the entrenchments on Hampstead Hill, who must be up to their eyeballs in mud. But he hadn’t yet heard anything to suggest that they’d been attacked by British forces.

  Eventually the eastern horizon began to lighten, but to their mutual frustration, the sky was still too heavy to see any detail of the fort. Gordon retrieved the spyglass for a closer study, then shook his head. “I can see the flagpole and there is a flag hanging on it, but it’s impossible to see what flag it is.”

  They were joined by Josh and Sarah, then Molly and Trey. Sarah fried up some eggs and sandwiched them into the last of the biscuits and served them with hot tea. They ate, watched, and waited, saying very little.

  The clouds began to thin and the sky lightened. With striking suddenness, the clouds shifted and sunshine illuminated the star-shaped fort and the fl
ag unfurling over it in the wind. “Look!” Molly breathed. “Just look at that!”

  The morning breeze caught the flag and the huge banner rolled out with lazy power. Red, white, and blue, stars and stripes.

  Fort McHenry was undefeated.

  * * *

  Callie gasped. The most beautiful flag she’d ever seen flew over the fort, the stripes and stars clear as the breeze snapped the banner out to its full, magnificent size. “We won,” she breathed. On the horizon she saw masts of British ships. They were sailing away, already disappearing into the morning mist.

  As exhilaration blazed through her, she shouted it out. “We won! They’re gone! The little brick Star Fort withstood the greatest navy in the world!”

  As Trey whooped, Molly wept, and Sarah and Josh hugged, Callie grabbed Richard and spun him around. Laughing, he caught her close. “They could be planning an attack from a different direction,” he warned, but he was also grinning like a fool.

  “They won’t. It’s autumn and they’re going to go off to some nice warm place like Bermuda or Barbados,” she said firmly. “I have one of my feelings, Richard. Remember them? Baltimore is safe.”

  “You’re usually rather accurate with your feelings,” he said as he tucked her under his arm and gazed across the harbor at the luxuriantly rippling flag as if he couldn’t get enough of the sight of it.

  As she gazed in the same direction, she realized with a shock that it had been years since she’d had one of her feelings of certainty. They’d been common in her youth, but they’d vanished—when?

  When she’d married and moved to Jamaica. For fifteen years she had done what was necessary and moved forward one step at a time, but the vivid, rebellious spirit of her youthful self had been buried.

  With sharp-edged clarity, she recognized how she had adopted her stepchildren and their grandparents as family not just because they needed her, but because she had desperately needed them.

  But now she felt reborn, and she was ready for a new adventure. As more jubilant cries began to be heard from the streets and rooftops around them, she grabbed Richard’s hand and drew him back inside, away from the rising clamor of victory.