Spring Will Come

by Ginny Dye

  Moses turned to the soldier who had stopped beside him and was looking at the house. He wasn’t sure what to say. Any expression of rebel sympathy could be viewed as traitorous. He knew there was any number of men who would love to send him packing back to Philadelphia. He chose silence.

  The soldier continued. “I was at a party here once. Years ago. I can’t believe it’s the same place.” His voice was genuinely regretful.

  Moses spoke carefully. “I know what is being done is necessary to support the army and so preserve the Union, but I can’t help wonder about the future of the people we are trying to forcibly restrain.”

  The soldier looked at him in surprise. “I thought you would have nothing but hatred for these people! I heard you came from a plantation nearby.”

  “I did, but I don’t hold a hate for the people. I hold a hate for slavery. I believe my people will be free someday - hopefully before this war is over. I guess the whole country will have to go to work rebuilding their lives.”

  The soldier stared at him for a long moment and then moved on. Moses shrugged. He had seen no animosity there - just a complete inability to understand what he was saying. Turning away from the house, he looked over the vast camp. Even with the safety offered by extensive fortifications and gunboats, it was a miserable encampment. Moses was somewhat accustomed to the heat and humidity of July. The northern soldiers had no such advantage. Besides incredibly cramped conditions, the water was bad and the sanitation deplorable. Swarms of black flies plagued men and animals. Dysentery had become epidemic. Every morning more dead were laid out. Moses wondered how much longer the army could remain in this position. In spite of plenty of food, new uniforms, and equipment, the men grew weaker every day.

  “Moses!”

  Moses spun to see who was calling him. It was one of the nurses from the hospital, a rather homely, middle-aged woman with kind eyes.

  “The captain is asking for you,” she said with a smile.

  “Captain Jones?” Moses exclaimed. He didn’t stop to wonder what his captain wanted. It was just wonderful to know the man was having visitors. “Thank you.”

  Captain Jones was sitting up in his bed when Moses entered the room he was sharing with about thirty other officers. The air in the room was stifling. Moses wondered how anyone could get well in such conditions. “Hello, Captain Jones, sir. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  “I understand I have you to thank that I’m feeling anything at all.”

  Moses shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t do anything special, sir.”

  “As far as I’m concerned you did,” Captain Jones retorted. “You saved my life, young man. The doctors told me if I had gotten to the hospital much later I wouldn’t have made it. As it is, it’s been touch and go, but my doctor assured me this morning I was past the worst and should recover fully.”

  “I’m happy to hear that, sir!” Moses said fervently. He had developed a genuine liking and respect for his superior officer.

  “Come closer, Moses. I want to talk to you.”

  Moses was suddenly apprehensive. He moved next to the captain’s bed and then slowly sat down where his officer indicated. The captain spoke so quietly Moses had to lean forward to hear him.

  “You saved my life, Moses. I’m grateful.” He raised his hand when Moses opened his mouth to interrupt. “Let me finish. I’m doing better, but I still don’t have a lot of strength.”

  Moses nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “Good. Like I said, I’m grateful to you for saving my life. Now I want to know if there is anything I can do for you.”

  Moses just stared at him, his thoughts spinning. Could he...? He shook his head firmly. “There is no need for you to do anything for me, sir. I’m just glad you’re going to be okay. Besides,” he added, “you’ve already done so much for me. You’ve given me a chance to be part of your unit. I know most of the other officers didn’t want anything to do with a black spy. I’d say we’re even.”

  “I think not,” Captain Jones said decisively. “You have more than earned your keep in this army. I understand the information you brought back from the Confederate camps was clear and detailed. It is no one’s fault our commanding general chose not to act on it.”

  Moses blinked his eyes in surprise. He had not expected such candor from the captain. Maybe coming close to death had given him more freedom to speak his mind.

  “I’m sure there is something I can do for you,” the captain continued.

  Moses looked at him more closely. The captain seemed to be insinuating a lot more than what he was actually saying. “Do you have something in mind, Captain?”

  “Possibly,” Captain Jones replied, with a slight smile. “I had a conversation with Joe one night.”

  Moses flinched from the still-fresh pain he felt from his friend’s death. He pulled his thoughts away from Joe’s dead face as the captain continued.

  “Don’t you have some family around here?”

  “Yes, sir,” Moses said softly, not able to believe the captain might be headed where he seemed to be.

  “I don’t imagine you want them to be slaves any longer than necessary, now do you?”

  “No, sir. I sure don’t,” Moses answered clearly.

  “Well,” the captain drawled. “The way I figure it, you’ve got about five weeks before you’re going to be needed again.”

  “Excuse me?” Moses could hardly believe what he was hearing. Dare he really believe it?

  Captain Jones’ voice dropped even lower. “Lincoln has called for McClellan to retreat all the way up the peninsula. The campaign to take Richmond is over. Now, I know McClellan. He will follow Lincoln’s orders, but he’ll be in no hurry to do it. The way I figure, you’ve got five weeks to find some of your family. Do you think you can do it?”

  Moses tried to control the trembling in his voice. “Yes, sir. I can do it.”

  “Good. I thought you could.” Captain Jones reached under his cover and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I took the liberty to write you a pass to get out of camp. You’re on your own after that.” His voice grew suddenly stern. “I expect you back in five weeks. Once you get your family to the contraband camp at Fort Monroe you can rejoin the army. I trust you won’t let me down.”

  Moses made no attempt to hide the smile exploding on his face. “You’ll see me in five weeks, Captain.” He paused a long moment, trying to find words to express what he was feeling. There were none. Captain Jones extended his hand. Moses gripped it firmly. “Thank you, sir.”

  Rose leaned against the railing of the boat and ignored her churning stomach. Fort Monroe had just appeared on the horizon. As it loomed larger and larger, she was no longer sure if the agitation in her stomach was due to the choppy seas, her nerves, or excitement. It was probably all three. Her eyes widened as they drew closer to the huge hexagonal fort constructed from huge blocks. It was as impressive as Moses had written. It comforted her to know Moses had been at just this same place. Somehow it made her feel more connected.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Carter Lepley asked, awe in his voice. “They told me it was big, but I didn’t expect anything quite so grand.”

  “Don’t be too impressed, Carter,” Teresa Farnsworth replied. “My understanding is that we will hardly get near the fort. Our job is in the outlying settlements.”

  “Oh, I know, but it’s still comforting to know there is such a strong Union presence to protect us. I just don’t know what I would do if the Rebels were to come in.”

  “I hardly think you have that to worry about!” Teresa snorted. “They gave it up without a fight in the first place because they knew our force was too powerful. That hasn’t changed.”

  Rose watched her two companions with amusement. She could not have imagined two people more different.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Carter replied softly. “I hate to think of my poor students living forever in fear that their freedom will be snatched away from the
m.” The stiff breeze ruffled the blond tendrils escaping her bun and caused her brown eyes to water. Her sweet face was anxious as she gazed at the approaching shore.

  “I think your students are used to living with that kind of fear,” Teresa stated, her long red hair bouncing freely around her shoulders, her bold green eyes missing nothing. Her voice was strong and confident.

  Rose had grown genuinely fond of both of them. Sweet Carter was easy to get along with, yet she could be strong when she needed to be. Rose had seen her stand up for her beliefs more than once when Teresa had tried to ramrod an idea of hers through. Teresa had a heart of gold, but Rose expected she was in for some lessons in reality when she finally reached the camps she spoke of so casually. Their treatment of her as an equal had done much to endear them to her. Rose knew they were her friends.

  Carter turned to her now. “Rose, do you think our students really are used to living with fear - that it doesn’t bother them anymore?”

  “You never get used to living with fear,” Rose stated quietly. “You learn to survive. You learn to endure it. You learn to move forward in spite of your fears. But you never learn not to let it bother you.”

  The other two women fell quiet as they contemplated her words. Suddenly Rose was anxious to get off the boat. The long journey was over. There would be no more seasickness. She had grown to love the open sea and the feeling of freedom the vastness granted her, but there was a new adventure in sight. She found herself yearning to get started.

  Their boat had just settled in at the dock when Rose heard her name called. Her face brightened in a smile as she looked up and caught sight of the matronly looking woman striding down the dock, the sun catching in her ebony hair and angling off the bony structure of her somewhat homely face. “Marianne!” she called. Then she remembered she was not in the Quaker School where it had been expected to call everyone by their first name. Many would think her presumptuous if she addressed her new superintendent like that. “Miss Lockins!” she amended hastily.

  Rose was the first down the gangplank when it dropped. Swiftly she made her way to where Marianne was waiting. “It’s wonderful to see you again,” she cried.

  “And it’s marvelous to see you, Rose. I didn’t dare hope I would have the privilege of working with you so soon.”

  Rose was just as drawn as ever to the caring and warmth in the older woman’s eyes. “Mr. Lockwood came to our school. When he talked about how the camps could move the possibility of emancipation forward, I knew I must come now. I still intend to pursue my education, but I believe I’m to be here for now.”

  “I’m just glad you’re here,” Marianne said fervently. “There is so much need - so many students starved for learning.” Then she glanced toward the boat. “Did you bring the books?”

  “I’m surprised the boat didn’t sink under their weight,” Rose laughed. “The response to Reverend Lockwood’s pleas was incredible. He told me he thought you would be well pleased.” Suddenly she remembered her two friends. “Miss Lockins, I’d like you to meet two more of your new teachers.” Quickly she introduced Teresa and Carter. Within moments, the foursome was moving back up the dock.

  Rose was silent, torn between despair and hope as they made their way through the outskirts of the contraband camps. Matthew’s description had not prepared her for the reality.

  Marianne read her thoughts. “Slab Town is probably the worst of our camps. These people are fairly new. They arrived, for the most part, with just what they had on their backs.”

  Rose nodded slowly. “There are barrels of clothes with the boxes of books,” she stated quietly. She stared around at the rude log huts and shabby structures made of old pine slabs. It had rained the night before, turning the dirt into a sucking mud. Children played in the streets, many of them showing the effects of not enough food.

  “I know the conditions aren’t wonderful,” Marianne said apologetically. “We are doing everything we can to improve them. The government has just named one of the men in our missionary society to be in charge of the contrabands. We have found ourselves in a constant fight with the government.”

  “Yes. Reverend Lockwood talked about it. I’m glad the quartermaster from the army is no longer in control.”

  “He cared no more for the contrabands than he did the rats running around the fort,” Marianne said angrily. “Things will be different, but it will take time.”

  “Are the people healthy?” Carter asked.

  Marianne frowned again. “The conditions here are ripe for passing along sickness and disease. The children are especially hard hit, I’m afraid. Reverend Lockwood is pressing the government to provide a doctor just for the camps.”

  Rose felt the despair disappear from her heart as she gazed around. The conditions might be deplorable and sickness might be rampant, but certainly the conditions were no worse than what some of them suffered on their plantations. The Cromwell slaves had been well treated, but Rose knew that was not always the case. And even though their physical needs had been well cared for, they had been denied education and freedom. Suddenly she laughed loudly.

  “Rose?”

  Rose turned to Marianne with a wide smile on her face. “Conditions can be changed and improved. The important thing is that these people are free. They have the opportunity to learn. Their children have a chance to live a different life than they have. We have fought to survive for years. We will continue to fight.”

  Marianne turned to Teresa and Carter. “Rose is right. Some of our new teachers have not been able to handle the conditions. They have chosen to leave. I hope you two will be able to see beyond the poverty and into the hearts of a people who have too long been denied the most basic human rights. I believe you will find them strong, industrious, and bright. But only if you open the eyes of your heart - not merely look with the eyes of your head.”

  Carter was the first to speak. “We have learned much from Rose on the way down here. We simply want to help.” Teresa nodded her agreement.

  “Good,” Marianne said firmly. She stopped in front of a ramshackle hut. “This is your home, Carter. You will share it with two other teachers.” She opened her mouth as if to apologize for the conditions and then shut it again. “It should be only temporary. We are working to prepare another home in the main camp.”

  Carter stared at what was going to be her new home and paled. Long moments passed before she was able to speak. “Thank you,” she finally said quietly. “When will I meet my students?”

  Rose wanted to cheer her bravery. Carter had told her some of her background during their boat trip. She knew the petite blond came from a wealthy Bostonian family. Tired of what she perceived as a useless life, she had gone to school to be a teacher. She had been teaching at an exclusive school for girls when she decided to travel to the contraband camps.

  “I’ll be back when I get Rose and Teresa settled in,” Marianne said cheerfully. “I think you’ll like your housemates. You’ll meet your students tomorrow.”

  Rose glanced back as Marianne led them down the road. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of Carter’s tiny frame outlined by the roughness of the cabin. She tried to push down her feeling of foreboding. Rose had seen strength in Carter on the way down but wondered whether her new friend was strong enough to handle such conditions. For that matter, was she? She had never known a life of anything but relative luxury compared to this. Her tiny room in the big plantation house had always been secure and warm, with plenty of good food. Her time in the cabin Carrie had built for her and Moses after their wedding had been a comfortable haven. Life with Aunt Abby had been like a dream. With the exception of the brutal months during the escape, she had never truly known want.

  “We call this the Grand Contraband Camp,” Marianne stated proudly.

  Rose looked around in surprise. She had been so deep in thought she had lost track of where they were going. “What did this used to be?” Evidence of a dreadful fire was everywhere - charred remains of hous
es resting on foundations, unsightly dilapidated walls, and blackened chimneys reaching for the sky.

  “It used to be the city of Hampton - before the Confederates burned it during their retreat. They heard rumors we were going to use it to house contrabands. They decided they would rather have it destroyed than used for such purposes.”

  “They destroyed a whole town just because black people were going to live in it?” Teresa asked incredulously.

  “You’ll find prejudice and sentiments of hatred run rather high in the South,” Marianne said grimly. “Of course,” she mused, more to herself than to them, “such sentiments are not exclusively the domain of Southerners.”

  Rose looked at her quickly, making a mental note to ask her what had caused such a sad look in her eyes.

  Marianne continued. “Look beyond the charred buildings. What do you see?”

  Rose looked again and was immediately impressed. A large number of neat cottages had sprung up among the ruins. Gardens were prolific, lending a bright green life of their own.

  “The houses have just gone up since this spring. Most of these people lived in horribly crowded conditions all winter. The government has given us some lumber; the rest has come from the buildings evacuated by troops after their winter encampment ended. They have gone up very quickly.” The pride in her voice was evident. “The Grand Contraband Camp has become quite a thriving community. The people here are fishing, oystering, huckstering, gardening, and farming. Why, there are farms outside of town that blacks have taken over. There are even a number of dairies now being run by blacks.”

  Rose looked around, her excitement growing. “I understand many of the contrabands are working for the government and being paid.”

  Marianne nodded. “The refugees are making themselves invaluable to the army. They work as cooks, servants, stevedores, carpenters - oh, all kinds of things. Whatever needs to be done, they seem to be able to do it.”

  Rose watched her closely, once more struck by the sad look in her eyes. “Is there something wrong?” she asked quietly.