As the exhausted, disappointed, and half-starved Union soldiers stood in formation on what remained of the parade grounds, the Stars and Stripes had been lowered, folded reverently, and presented to Major Anderson. Then, with the drum and fife corps playing “Yankee Doodle,” the federal troops had marched from the crumbling stronghold they had defended faithfully since shortly before Christmas. The following morning, they had been transferred to the Union steamship Baltic, which soon departed for New York with Major Anderson’s flag flying atop the mast.
In the aftermath of the shocking loss of Fort Sumter, a new patriotic fervor swept through New York City. For a moment, dissent fell silent and outrage replaced sympathy for the South as cries for a swift, forceful military response filled the air. Impromptu rallies and marches sprang up in parks and squares; the Stars and Stripes flew from nearly every mast and flagpole and balcony. “Sumter is lost but freedom is saved,” the New York Tribune declared. Gone at last were thoughts of appeasement, of coaxing or bribing the traitor states in the South to return to the Union. “It seems but yesterday that at least two-thirds of the journals of this city were the virtual allies of the Secessionists, their apologists, their champions,” another paper observed about the sudden shift in the temper of the city. “The roar of the great circle of batteries pouring their iron hail upon devoted Sumter has struck them all dumb.”
On Monday, when President Lincoln issued a call for seventy-five thousand troops to suppress the uprising, with a certain quota required from each state, the men of New York rushed to form infantry regiments. Seized by military zeal, young men from upstate raced to the city, eager to enlist and to see a bit of action before the rebels were defeated and the excitement passed. Within two days of the president’s call to arms, Colonel Ellsworth, Mr. Lincoln’s friend from Chicago with whom Kate had danced at the Inaugural Ball, arrived in New York seeking to form a Zouave regiment of eight hundred choice men from among the city’s firefighters. Kate had read about his plan in a brief notice in the afternoon paper on the day of his arrival, so she knew he was in the city, and she was pleased to see him across the room when they happened to attend the same levee at City Hall that evening.
“Colonel Ellsworth,” she greeted him warmly after he had worked his way through the crowd to her side. “I cannot think of any other man I would rather see at this moment. Tell me, what is the news from Washington City? Have you seen my father recently?”
“I regret that I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Secretary Chase recently,” the colonel replied. “I know that on the night Fort Sumter fell, the entire cabinet was closeted with President Lincoln until the small hours of the morning, but regrettably, I was not privy to their discussion.”
“And what is the mood of the city?” Kate asked, hiding her disappointment.
“Much as it is here,” he said. “Patriotism and loyalty for the Union have filled every heart, although there is greater worry there that the city will be threatened by rebel militia.”
Kate nodded. For all that it was the capital of the Union, Washington was essentially a Southern city, surrounded by Maryland to the north and east, on the other side of the Chesapeake Bay, and Virginia to the west and south, with only the Potomac separating them. “If their hearts are equally patriotic and loyal, why do you come to New York to recruit for your Zouaves, instead of choosing among the men of Washington City?”
“I’m a native of New York State, and I want the New York firemen. There are no more effective men in the country and none with whom I can do so much.” As he spoke, Colonel Ellsworth’s voice became grave. “Miss Chase, I don’t mean to alarm you, but our friends at Washington are sleeping on a volcano, and I want men who are ready at any moment to plunge into the thickest of the fight.”
Her heart thumped with trepidation at his solemn certainty of coming danger. “When I’m home once again,” Kate told him steadily, “it will be a great reassurance to know that you’re commanding such courageous men in the defense of our city.”
While New York and other states throughout the Union promptly organized volunteer troops in response to the president’s call to arms, the governors of Kentucky, Missouri, North Carolina, and Virginia scornfully declared that they would furnish no regiments to go to war against their Southern brethren. Then, on April 17, two days after Mr. Lincoln issued his proclamation, Virginia seceded from the Union. It was a terrible blow to the North, but the rebellious states of the South rejoiced, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the new independent commonwealth of Virginia added its military and economic might to the Confederacy.
The next day, Major Anderson and his officers arrived in New York to a hero’s welcome. It was a bright, breezy afternoon, so the Barneys and Chases went down to the Brooklyn wharves to witness the Baltic come in to the harbor. Thousands of citizens had gathered, and all the vessels in the bay and the houses along the shore had been decked with flags in honor of the heroes of Fort Sumter. As the ship approached with its escort, an artillery salute boomed from the guns at the forts and on the shore, and every nearby steeple bell rang, and everywhere the people cheered and waved flags. In reply, the Baltic waved her ensign and fired her cannon, to the delight of the crowd.
As the steamer came steadily and gracefully forward, Kate observed that a tattered flag of the United States flew from the foremast, and from the mizzenmast hung another, so badly damaged that it was nearly in rags. She was startled to see that the prow was shattered as if from a collision or the impact of a cannonball, and yet, thankfully, the ship was evidently seaworthy. Soldiers in ragged blue coats, dusty with what Kate imagined was the pulverized brick and mortar of the ruined fort, packed the deck, and although the men looked hungry and tired, they heartily returned the cheers from the shore, their voices hoarse but proud.
“That’s Major Anderson,” a man observing the scene from a ferryboat shouted. “On the wheelhouse. That’s him right there!”
Excitement surged as word spread through the crowd. Shading her eyes with her hand, Kate spied a slight, clean-shaven man wrapped in a military overcoat standing atop the wheelhouse. The roar of approval that greeted Major Anderson and his men—so proud and patriotic and stirring—left Kate almost breathless, and tears came into her eyes as she too applauded the returning heroes.
Later, Mr. Barney informed them that Major Anderson had taken rooms at the Brevoort House, a fine hotel on the corner of Eighth Street and Fifth Avenue, where he had been reunited with his relieved and happy wife. Although he had traveled quietly there with friends who had met him on the landing, word of his arrival had spread swiftly, and soon a raucous crowd had gathered outside, cheering loudly and calling for the major to address them. “I confess I myself have imposed upon his rest,” Mr. Barney admitted. “I’ve arranged for him to attend the bridal reception at William Aspinwall’s home in two days’ time so that we might meet him.”
“I want to meet him too,” said Nettie. “Oh, Kate, may we?”
Kate shook her head. “I thought we would leave for Washington that morning.”
“Couldn’t we stay just one day longer?” Nettie implored. “I miss home too, but it’s just one day for the chance to meet the hero of Fort Sumter. Please, Kate?”
Kate wavered.
“Yes, please do stay,” said Mr. Barney earnestly. “We would all enjoy another day of your company, and I think Mr. Chase would want you to learn the truth about Major Anderson’s adventure from the man himself, so you can give him a better account than he would get from the newspapers or some dry official report.”
That convinced her. The following morning, Kate, Nettie, and Susan strolled to the post office to mail a note to her father about their altered travel plans, chatting pleasantly about their gowns, offering suggestions for how to arrange one another’s hair, and speculating about which gentlemen of their acquaintance might also attend. On their way back to the Barney residence, they heard n
ewsboys’ shouts and saw people racing to purchase their papers, fresh off the presses. “Massachusetts volunteers opposed in their passage through Baltimore,” a boy shouted, waving a paper in the air. “Bloody fight between the soldiers and the mob!”
Susan stopped short and pressed a hand to her heart; Nettie gave a little gasp; but after a brief moment of stunned stillness, Kate took Nettie’s hand and briskly led her to the corner with Susan trailing along behind. Quickly Kate dug into her reticule for a coin and bought the Herald, nearly tearing it in her haste to open it. As Susan and Nettie read along beside her, the dire headlines struck with chilling force.
THE WAR.
Highly Important News from Baltimore.
The Massachusetts Volunteers Opposed in Their Passage Through the City.
Bloody Fight Between the Soldiers and the Mob.
Two Soldiers and Seven Citizens Killed.
The Volunteers Succeed in Forcing their Way Through.
Total Destruction of the Arsenal at Harper’s Ferry by the Federal Troops
Seizure of Northern Vessels in Virginia.
“But Maryland is in the Union,” said Susan, looking faint. “How could such a dreadful thing happen there?”
“Southern sympathizers are everywhere,” said Kate, folding up the paper and urging her companions on home as quickly as they could.
The nation was crumbling, but more than two hundred miles to the southwest, she knew that her father was fighting valiantly to hold it together. She longed to be there to support him, to lend him all the skills at her disposal, to do whatever she could to help him in that unprecedented crisis. Two days more, she told herself firmly. Two days more, and she and Nettie would be home.
But the next day, more news from Baltimore dashed her hopes. In the final study of the riot, it was determined that at least three soldiers and nine civilians had been killed and scores more injured. The damage to property had been even more devastating than originally known, for after the federal troops had escaped, frenzied Southern sympathizers had destroyed railroad tracks leading to the north, burned bridges, and severed telegraph lines, isolating Washington City from the rest of the Union.
Washington stood alone, stranded and imperiled, surrounded by enemies—and yet it was the only place Kate wished to be, and utterly impossible to reach.
• • •
The news that Washington was vulnerable sent a frisson of urgency racing through the North. While young men rushed to join regiments and engineers raced to repair the damaged bridges and railroad tracks, governors ordered their newly mustered regiments to Washington and military officers contrived other ways to transport them there, since Baltimore remained impassable.
In many ways, ordinary life continued much as it always had, though not unaffected by the escalating crisis. When the bridal party and guests gathered at the Aspinwall residence at the corner of University Place and Twelfth Street for the wedding reception, the Stars and Stripes was proudly displayed, and within, the elegant rooms were adorned with exquisite rare plants and shrubs and decorations of red, white, and blue, lending the celebration the air of a military ball.
The bride and groom were the guests of honor, of course, but second only to them came Major Anderson. When he and Kate were introduced shortly before dinner, he accepted her compliments with gracious humility, observing that he had endeavored to do his duty at Fort Sumter, as any other loyal officer would have done in his place. He looked to Kate to be in his midfifties and was of medium height but slender build, perhaps due to the deprivations of the siege. Clean-shaven, with a hawk-like nose, elegant features bronzed by the sun, and brown hair that waved back from a high forehead, he had an air of quiet strength that even his evident fatigue did not diminish.
Kate listened, fascinated, as he politely responded to the many questions posed to him about his ordeal. He spoke plainly, without evident embellishment of his deeds, in a voice that carried the accents of his native Kentucky.
“Is it true,” one wide-eyed matron asked, “that before you left Fort Moultrie for Sumter, you cut down the flagstaff there?”
“I did order it done,” the major acknowledged. “I knew that as soon as we quit Fort Moultrie, the South Carolinians would seize the fort, and I didn’t want any other flag but the Stars and Stripes to fly from that staff.”
A murmur of admiration and respect went through the group, but the conversation was interrupted by the summons to dinner. Kate fell into step beside him as they went to take their places. “Forgive me, Major Anderson,” she said, smiling. “If you have grown weary of the subject of Fort Sumter, say the word and I shall ask your opinion of the weather instead.”
“Ask whatever you wish, Miss Chase,” he said, returning her smile. “I will do my best to answer well.”
“How did you keep your men’s courage from faltering over so many months?” she asked. “It’s a question of great importance to me, because I suspect we’ll all need encouragement in the months ahead.”
A thoughtful look came into his deep-set brown eyes, and when he halted in the corridor to consider his response, she paused too. “The men were brave, well trained and well disciplined,” he told her. “It was not in their nature to panic or to surrender, despite the deprivations they endured.”
“What will happen now?” Kate asked. “Some Northerners have argued that if Fort Sumter were surrendered to South Carolina, their rebellious people would be mollified, and they would willingly return to the Union.”
“I truly doubt that will happen,” Major Anderson said. “Or rather, Miss Chase, I am sadly confident that it will not. Our Southern brethren have done grievously wrong. They have rebelled and have attacked their father’s house and their loyal brothers. They will not return to the Union unless forced to do so. They must be punished and brought back, but this necessity breaks my heart.”
• • •
The days passed, and as the newspapers reported the progress of regiments from Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Ohio, and other loyal states to Washington, Kate impatiently waited for railroad service to be fully restored. At last word came that regiments had arrived in the captial and had immediately begun shoring up its defenses—but Kate’s expectations that she and Nettie might finally go home were quickly dashed. Baltimore remained a dangerous nest of Southern collusion, and neither Father nor Mr. Barney wanted the sisters to attempt the journey unprotected.
“Mrs. Lincoln remains in Washington,” Kate pointed out to Susan. “Is she braver than I? If the capital is safe enough for the president’s wife, it is safe enough for me.”
“Washington City may be safe enough,” Susan acknowledged, “but getting there is another matter.”
Near the end of April, Colonel Ellsworth and his Zouaves were sent off to Washington in grand style, with the presentation of numerous banners and guide flags in a splendid ceremony in front of the company’s headquarters on Canal Street, stirring speeches by a representative from the New York Fire Department and Colonel Ellsworth, and a magnificent procession of soldiers and fire engines up Broadway, to the Astor House, past City Hall, and down Canal Street toward the North River. Massive crowds lined the parade route, especially around Collins’s wharf, where the troops boarded the Baltic for transport to Washington. Once aboard, the Zouaves, gallantly attired in their red caps and shirts, with black pants and trim of gold braid, and each man shouldering a new Sharps rifle, were met on the upper deck by Mr. Cassius Clay, who offered rousing oration in their honor, evoking loud and prolonged cheers from the thousands of onlookers.
After the ceremony, Kate accompanied Mr. Barney down to the ship to bid Colonel Ellsworth one last farewell and to offer her heartfelt wishes for his success and safety. “If you happen to see my father,” she added, “please tell him that I am determined to return to Washington as soon as I can find an escort who can assure our safety.”
“I will certainly
pass on your message,” the colonel replied, “but Miss Chase, had I known you wished to join your father in the capital, I would have been honored to escort you and your sister. I would have given you my own stateroom aboard the Baltic.”
“I confess it had not occurred to me to ask,” said Kate, dismayed. “I wish with all my heart that I had.”
“As do I,” Colonel Ellsworth said. “When you do return to Washington City, I hope I may have the great pleasure of dancing with you again.”
“I hope so too,” she said. “Do be careful while you’re out there defending the city so bravely, so that you will be fit for dancing afterward.”
She should have been on that ship, Kate thought, her heart sinking as she watched it depart. She and Nettie could have been on their way home at that very moment.
She vowed not to let another opportunity slip through her fingers.
• • •
On the first day of May, Mr. Barney returned from dining out with Major Anderson with the news that the officer had been attached to the Department of the East and had been assigned the command of the division at Fort Hamilton, including the fortifications and garrisons in New York harbor and its vicinity. The day before, he had visited the fort on the southwestern tip of Brooklyn to muster and inspect troops stationed there, but he was expected to travel to Washington soon in order to present himself to Secretary of War Cameron.
“Soon?” Kate asked. “How soon?”
“Tomorrow or the next day,” Mr. Barney replied.
“Perhaps he would allow Nettie and me to accompany him.”
“Oh, yes, please,” exclaimed Nettie. “I like him very much, and I miss Father.”
Mr. and Mrs. Barney exchanged a look, and when Mrs. Barney gave a slight nod, Mr. Barney agreed that Kate could inquire.
She immediately wrote Major Anderson an earnest, charming letter describing their plight. A few hours dragged by, until a messenger brought Major Anderson’s reply: He would be honored to escort the daughters of Secretary Chase home to Washington City, if they could be ready to depart two days hence.
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