He wiped his face with a soggy handkerchief and smiled at Lora.
“Don’t worry. I think he was out of any real danger by that time.”
Lora managed a thin smile, but fear churned inside her. Wade had the disadvantage of his bad leg. If he fell again in a crowd like that he might be trampled. Or he might do something reckless to help some hapless victim of the mob, and be injured himself. She had reason to know how suddenly, how mercilessly death could strike.
Serena’s cheerful tones broke the uneasy silence that followed Adam’s account. No matter how worried she herself might be, Serena always managed to sound as if she hadn’t a care in the world. And her example usually had a healthy effect on others.
“It’s getting dark enough for our fire, by now,” she announced, and stood up to call the boys. “Get out of those wet suits and into your clothes. We’re going to have supper and light the fire.”
Everyone broke into nervous activity, but Lora found herself moving in an aura of unreality. It was hard to believe that scenes such as Adam had described were occurring right now in New York.
Only Morgan did nothing. She put Rebecca to work, but sat idly by herself, her white dress ghostly in the fading light. Once Lora stumbled over her extended white slippers and looked down at her impatiently.
“Don’t sit there,” she said more sharply than she intended. “Do something. If you’re worrying about your precious Mr. Norwood you’ll be better off if you busy yourself. The rest of us are worried too.”
Morgan shook her head. “It’s not Murray I’m concerned about. He can take care of himself. You know I’m thinking of Wade.”
“Wade can take care of himself too,” Lora said, and moved away in quick resentment. Morgan had no right to concern herself, to wear that look in her eyes, to carry her heart on her sleeve for Wade.
As Lora circled the pile of driftwood, Rebecca approached her hesitantly.
“I heard some of what Mr. Adam said.… Miss Lora, is it true that we colored people …”
“Don’t worry,” Lora said quickly. “You’re with us. Nothing can happen to you.”
“It’s Jeb I’m thinking of,” Rebecca faltered. “And his mother on McKeon Street.”
“Mr. Wylie says everything is quiet on the island,” Lora assured her. “You mustn’t worry.” But she knew how futile it was to tell anyone not to worry when her own anxiety would not be subdued.
The three boys were allowed to start the bonfire themselves. Flames began to lick upward through the wood, until the entire pile was a roaring conflagration. Then everyone settled to the business of eating supper, though the celebration was not particularly gay.
Lora hardly knew whether she ate cold chicken or baked ham. The potato salad might as well have been sawdust and she could not eat a bite of chocolate cake. All she wanted now was to get home and find out whether or not Wade was there. She was surprised when Morgan, who was eating little, left her own place and crossed the sand in her direction.
“It’s true,” Morgan said abruptly, “that Murray is furiously angry with Wade. I’ve done what I could to restrain him, but if there is real trouble I can’t tell what might happen.”
“There’s nothing we can do when we don’t even know where Wade is,” Lora said stiffly.
Morgan hesitated, as if there was more she wanted to say. She began to speak again, more softly.
“If trouble starts on the island, my house will be safe. Orders will be given to leave it untouched. But other homes—Republican homes—may be threatened. Lora, if there’s trouble, come up to my house and bring everyone with you.”
Lora looked at her for a moment. The leaping orange flames flickered over Morgan’s white dress, shone in her eyes, but they did not reveal what she was really thinking.
“Thank you,” said Lora, “but I’m not sure Wade would want us to accept the protection of the Circle.”
Quick anger flashed in Morgan’s eyes, but before she could speak there was a cry from the direction of the beach. Shielding her eyes from the fire glare, Lora could see Rebecca down near the water’s edge. She was pointing out across the bay.
At first the nearer brilliance was too great for Lora to make out what it was Rebecca saw. But when she moved away from the fire she could catch the glare of flames here and there on the opposite Brooklyn shore.
So the trouble had spread out of New York itself.
Up near the road the horses neighed and stamped and there was the sound of someone coming down through the brush toward the beach. Lora whirled about in time to see Wade limp into the aura of light about the fire. For just an instant she stood staring in mingled shock and relief. He wore no coat, but only a torn shirt with bloodstains down its front. A purplish bruise made a swelling on one cheekbone and blood had dried along the edges of a cut upon his forehead.
In the instant in which she stood transfixed, Lora lost her chance to reach him first. Morgan was nearer and Morgan moved at once. Even as Lora recovered herself, the other woman flew across the sand toward Wade and flung her arms unabashedly about his neck.
“I’ve worried so!” she cried. “Wade, are you all right?” She pressed her cheek against his, caring nothing for what the others might think.
An anger sharper than she had ever known flared through Lora, though there was nothing she could say or do.
Wade’s reaction was quick and cold and firm. He reached up to break Morgan’s hold about his neck, and when she would have clung to him he took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. Then he put her out of his way and turned toward the others.
Serena spoke quickly as if nothing unusual had happened. “We’re glad to see you, Wade. Lora has been anxious about you.”
But Wade did not pause to look for Lora. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he told them all. “I stopped at your house, Serena, and when I found you weren’t home, I took your pony phaeton and came right out. This trouble has spread to the island by now. There are gangs springing up everywhere and if the smaller groups join forces it may mean something even more serious. We’d better start for home at once.”
Morgan went to pick up her parasol and reticule as proudly as though she had not been humiliated before the others, but there was no missing the anger that flashed in her eyes. She fairly snapped at Rebecca, who flew to assist her. As Lora came up behind Wade, he turned to smile at her reassuringly. But the moment when she might have gone to him as naturally and impulsively as Morgan had, was past. She could not even find words to tell him of her relief. There was nothing to do but busy herself by helping to gather things up and carry them back to the carriages.
The bonfire, much to the regret of the three boys, had to be scattered across the beach and buried in wet sand. There were fires enough tonight, and they were not fires of celebration.
On the way home Serena’s carriage took the lead again, with Morgan’s immediately following. The Tyler carriage came next and Wade rode with Lora and Jemmy, while Adam took the phaeton to bring up the rear.
They jogged along lonely roads toward the more populated section of the island and nothing happened until they were nearly home. Then Peter, who had a view of the road ahead from his seat, turned to look anxiously at Wade in the open carriage.
“Looks like there’s trouble ahead, Mr. Wade. Looks like twenty or more in a gang. They’re coming toward us carrying torches.”
Lora leaned out her side of the carriage so she could see ahead, keeping a good hold on Jemmy’s arm lest he topple into the road in his anxiety to see.
It appeared that the passage of the carriages must certainly be blocked, but as Serena’s horses slowed down, the crowd divided to each side of the road and let her carriage through. Morgan’s carriage, too, might have been permitted to follow, had not someone held up a torch to illumine the faces of the two women who rode in it—Morgan in the wide carriage seat, and Rebecca riding backwards on a small let-down seat in front.
For an instant the flickering light touched Rebecca’
s brown skin, shone in her dark eyes, then someone gave a whoop of triumph.
“Here’s one now!”
Rough hands caught at the bridles of the frightened horses and Peter had to pull up the Tyler carriage before it crashed into Morgan’s. In the weaving torchlight Lora could see that these fellows were hardly more than boys—though big boys in their late teens. One of them reached in and grasped Rebecca by the arm. Lora heard the girl’s cry of fear and saw Morgan bring her parasol angrily down upon the boy’s head. But the flimsy thing broke in two and Rebecca was being pulled from the carriage, to the delight of the torchbearers.
In the same instant Wade jumped from their carriage and flung himself toward the gang of boys. He struck out with his fist and the fellow who had hold of Rebecca fell back. Adam had already seen what was happening and he leaped from the phaeton to join Wade. But Adam carried a brace of pistols, one in each hand, and even as the gang closed in about Wade and Rebecca, he fired a shot into the air.
The sound of the gunfire had an immediate effect. It was every man for himself as the boys dived for the side of the road, dropping their torches in the wild scramble. Apparently none of them had any stomach for facing real bullets. They might be ready to bully, but they were not eager to risk their necks.
Peter whipped up the Tyler horses and Lora was flung back in the seat beside Jemmy. Wade and Adam jumped into the phaeton and Wade took the reins, while Adam held his pistols cocked and ready. There was an angry muttering, but the fellows who crouched by the roadside made no attempt at pursuit.
The whole thing had happened so quickly that there had hardly been time to be frightened, but now Lora felt limp with reaction. Jemmy, however, was wildly excited.
“Did you see Papa knock that fellow over?” he cried. “And did you see Uncle Adam’s guns?”
“Yes, Jemmy, I saw. But it’s all right now. We’re nearly home.”
“Why did they attack us, Lorie? Were they robbers, or what?”
Lora tried to explain calmly to Jemmy what was happening because of the draft. Jemmy was more elated than frightened. This was an adventure, he assured her. Like something out of a story. Would there be more mobs, did she think? And would they come up Dogwood Lane? There was such hopefulness in his tone that she had to smile, even as she tried to quiet him. He seemed disappointed by her assurance that there would be no reason to storm their remote little road.
“Unless because of Rebecca,” Jemmy said.
Lora thrust back her uneasiness on that very score. She had no confidence in Morgan’s assurance that the Channing place would be safe, no matter what happened elsewhere. Belonging to Morgan Channing had not kept her carriage safe from that mob of boys.
When they reached the lane Morgan signaled her coachman to draw the carriage to the side of the road and wait for the others. When the Tyler carriage drew up, Lora got out and hurried over to speak to Rebecca.
The girl sat limply on the front seat, nursing a bruised arm and betraying more resignation than fear. Lora reached out to pat her hand.
“You’ll be all right now, Rebecca. We won’t let anyone harm you.”
The phaeton had come to a stop beside Morgan’s carriage and Wade too came over to inquire about Rebecca. He ignored Morgan, but she broke in upon his words without ceremony. She seemed to have discarded the incident at the beach as if it had never happened.
“You must all come up to my house tonight, Wade. I’ve enough room to put everyone up, and I’m sure you’ll be safer there. I’ve already suggested it to Lora.”
Wade shook his head. “No, thank you. After the taste we had over in town today, I’ve no belief in Norwood’s name carrying any protection, even if he chose to help us. What do you think, Adam?”
“I think we’re safer in our own homes,” Adam said. “In any event we’d better not lump all our forces in one place and leave our homes to be burned to the ground if trouble arises.”
Morgan shrugged with elaborate indifference and drove off up the hill. Adam made a face and rolled his eyes before he followed Serena toward home.
XXIX
Lora slept restlessly that night, though all remained quiet on the lane. More than once she wakened to listen to the night sounds in the garden—the humming of insects, the chirping of tree toads. She wished she could hush their clamor the better to hear other, more stealthy sounds. Rain came late at night and brought some relief from the heat, as well as reassurance. Surely even rioters would not enjoy being wet to the skin.
All the house was breathlessly still. She wished she might go into Wade’s room for company, re-establish the old relationship in which each had needed the other. But these days he seemed to avoid being alone with her.
When they’d come into the house after returning from the beach, he had gone at once to bathe his cuts and bruises and change his clothes. Lora had given his mother an account of what had happened in New York before she should be alarmed by her son’s appearance. The old lady seemed more indignant than frightened and she scoffed when Lora reported Morgan’s suggestion that they all come up to her house. She even gave orders to Peter and got out of her chair to supervise the bringing down of Jack Tyler’s guns and pistols from the attic—an event that filled Jemmy with delight. But there was no need for any defense that night and the household retired quietly enough.
Lora awoke the next morning to the somewhat wistful realization that this was her birthday. A remembrance of last year returned unbidden and she winced away from it. This was no time for such youthful doings, and under the circumstances even Jemmy would probably forget. There was very little to celebrate about being a year older when one had accomplished so little, she thought dolefully, and got up to dress.
Jemmy, however, did not forget. He reminded everyone at breakfast that this was Lorie’s birthday and they were going to have a party for her at dinner. She would, he said, have to wait for her present till then.
She tried to protest, but Wade sided cheerfully with his son.
“A very good time for a party,” he said pointedly, and looked at his mother. “It will help to keep us occupied and entertained, don’t you think?”
Lora sensed his unspoken thought—that this was perhaps a way to keep Jemmy’s attention off matters that might be altogether too exciting. Mother Tyler apparently understood too, for she gave orders to Ellie to bake a cake, and to set out the silver candelabra and best linen for a party that night.
Later in the morning Mrs. Tyler sent Peter on a reconnoitering expedition to see what had happened on the island during the night and whether the unruliness was now being put down. He came home with a disquieting report. The rioting in the city had begun again in the early morning hours and the mobs were larger and more out of hand than they had been the day before. Beatings, burnings and lynchings were the order of the day and already men had died in the New York area.
Here on Staten Island there had been some trouble during the night, and all storekeepers had cautiously put up their shutters for the day. The ferries were still running, but other transportation had stopped. Negroes were fleeing to the woods, or finding their way over to New Jersey where there was no trouble and they could be safe. Threats were being uttered on every hand—against Black Republicans, against the wealthy, who were being blamed for the war, and against the helpless colored people. The temper of the crowds was ugly and there was no telling what violence might be perpetrated before the uprising was set down.
“Where are the authorities?” Mother Tyler cried, pounding her cane indignantly. “What can they be thinking of?”
Wade shook his head at her fury. “The authorities, as you call them, have about sixty police at their beck and call. And what can such a handful manage against thousands of hoodlums? This is mob rule, Mother, until outside help comes in. All we can do is get up our own citizen groups to protect our homes.”
Adam came in during the day with good news from Pennsylvania. Edgar had sent a message through to his wife by telegraph. He had bee
n wounded at Gettysburg, but only superficially. His company was already on the march for home and should be in New York in a few days.
“The town will be all right the minute the army gets back. But until then we’d better have some working plan in case there’s trouble up here.”
Arrangements were made to send or signal for help if the need arose. But all day long Dogwood Lane dreamed in the muggy July heat and saw no hint of trouble. Night would be the time of greater danger and anxiety, and Lora was glad to see Jemmy thoroughly occupied in his plans for the birthday dinner.
That afternoon Wade called Lora into the library and gave her a sheaf of papers with handwriting across the pages.
“Another book?” she asked. “Or a story?”
“Neither,” he said. “I’m trying my hand at articles now, Lora. Some pieces about our own times. About things I know and feel strongly about. Will you read this when you have a chance and tell me what you think?”
She took the pages somewhat doubtfully and he smiled.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to be a sensitive plant this time. Writing is the thing I feel I can do best and I’ve already had some encouragement from Sidney Howard Gay here on the island. He feels that Horace Greeley, for whom he works, might even want to publish my revision of this piece. I know I have a great deal to learn and I’m willing to work at it.”
“I’m very glad,” Lora said softly. “I’ll read this right away.”
She carried his piece to the seclusion of her own room and sat down to read it. She had finished no more than a page before she realized that this time he had found his métier.
Here, set down movingly, compellingly, were the reasons why the Union must fight this war—and win. Yet there was no inciting to hatred in the words. Rather, a cause bigger than North or South was offered—the cause of freedom for every human creature, and of an eventual joining in brotherhood for the sake of a great and useful future.
The Quicksilver Pool Page 35