Through the Storm

by Beverly Jenkins

  And because of their bravery the country began to change. On January 31, 1865, the House of Representatives passed the unprecedented Thirteenth Amendment. Unlike the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863, which abolished slavery only in those states at war with the Union, the new amendment outlawed slavery everywhere in the United States. The next day, February 1, Senator Charles Sumner sponsored a Black Boston lawyer named John Rock for the right to practice law before the Supreme Court. He was the first man of the race to be afforded such a distinction. Eight years earlier, in the case of Dred Scott v. Sanders, the Court had denied that Blacks were even citizens.

  Then, on March 4, 1865, Frederick Douglass was invited to President Lincoln’s second inaugural reception. It was the first time a member of the race had been invited to a White House social function. Blacks were now being allowed to sit in the galleries of Congress and to testify as witnesses in federal courts. Segregation had been outlawed on the streetcars in Washington, D.C., and members of the race were no longer barred by statute from carrying the United States mail.

  Positive change seemed to be occurring all over the country, but for Robert E. Lee and the Confederacy events had taken a turn for the worse. According to newspaper reports, his army had been reduced to thirty-five thousand men. The South had no money to pay them and no food to feed them as a result of Sherman’s punishing push through Georgia and South Carolina. The end seemed near.

  Sable and everyone else in the North celebrated April 3 when Union troops took Richmond, the Confederate capital. The first Union troops to enter the city were the all Black, Fifth Massachusetts Cavalry, commanded by Charles Francis Adams, grandson of former President John Quincy Adams. The Black citizens of the city greeted the liberating Black cavalry with deafening cheers.

  On April 6, 1865, three Union corps captured six thousand members of Lee’s army, and by the tenth of April, the first war between the American states was over. The nation’s joy was short-lived; four days later, President Lincoln was assasinated by a man the papers described as the sad, mad, bad John Wilkes Booth.

  Late April 16, Sable and Verena arrived in Washington by train. Because of the tremendous crowds it was hard to find a hack to rent at the train station, but after a few unsuccessful attempts Sable was finally able to secure one. The Black driver helped them with their small valises, then got them under way.

  Sable saw hundreds of people on the journey to the center of the city. Most were walking the same route as their carriage and all appeared as somber as she herself felt. Church bells clanged mournfully and office buildings and storefronts were draped in black. Because of the vast numbers of folks keeping vigil outside the White House, it was impossible for their driver to get them any closer than a few blocks away. After paying his fare, Sable took Verena’s arm to give her support and the two women blended into the crowd as it moved quietly up the avenue.

  Everyone appeared to have taken the death hard, Black people in particular. Lincoln had been the President of the United States, but to the Blacks of the nation, he’d been Moses, Father, the Great Liberator. He’d formed the United States Colored Troops, emancipated three and half million slaves, and now he lay dead.

  The cold rain continued to fall. Sable’s clothing had soaked through hours ago, but like everyone else she paid the drizzle no mind. Hymns were sung, prayers were offered. Later that afternoon the White House doors were opened to the public. Sable, Verena, and nearly twenty-five thousand others were allowed to file past the body as it lay in state in the East Room.

  The next day, a funeral service was conducted inside the White House and the crowd of sixty thousand lining the streets watched with heavy hearts as the black hearse bearing Lincoln’s body slowly made its way to the Capitol rotunda, a mile away. The large procession trailing the hearse marched solemnly to the beat of muffled drums and the dirge bells of the regimental bands of cavalry, artillery and marine units.

  Leading the slow-paced cortege was a Black regiment, marching with their guns reversed. A city procession followed. Thousands of Blacks joined in, including the entire membership of the Baltimore Conference of the American Methodist Episcopal Church, which had convened its annual meeting only a few days before. They marched under a banner that read: “We mourn our loss.”

  On Friday, April 21, the funeral cortege pulled out of Washington at eight in the morning. The journey to Lincoln’s home state of Illinois took his body to such cities as Philadelphia, where reportedly more than three hundred thousand people were waiting, and to New York, where about two thousand Blacks, many of them wearing Union uniforms, were among the crowd that marched in the civic procession from City Hall to the Hudson River Station.

  Blacks in the South grieved also. All three thousand Black residents of the city of Michelville wore crepe on their arms until April 30. Charleston’s Zion church stayed draped in black for a year.

  When Lincoln was buried on May 4, Sable thought a reporter for the Harper’s Weekly summed up the feelings of the race best when he wrote, “His death burdened every black with a personal sense of loss…”

  Not since the death of John Brown had the race grieved so deeply.

  By the end of May, Verena and Sable were making final preparations for their long-anticipated relocation to New Orleans. As the day of departure approached, Mrs. Jackson took on an inner glow. She seemed lively and energetic. She fussed less and smiled more, making Sable believe that maybe the move was not such a bad idea after all.

  After a grueling cross-country trip by both rail and coach, they arrived on the doorstep of their new house in early June. On the journey through New Orleans, refugees and soldiers clogged the streets. The hired driver had to stop their coach more than once to let the foot traffic pass. She saw hundreds of dust-covered women, men, and children making their way down the crowded streets, carrying their meager possessions in their arms and on their backs. She saw old men pushing handcarts piled with bundled goods, and barefoot children sitting on the walks alone. There were people hawking vegetables, fish, and fruit.

  Like the rest of the country, Sable knew that many of the freedmen now had no place to go. Had she not escaped to Boston, she’d be one of those trudging through the streets, displaced by freedom.

  Seeing the refugees made her think back to the army camp and the people she’d met there. Where were they all now? she wondered—A very and Salome, Araminta, the soldiers at the hospital. And where was Raimond? He made his home here in this city. Would their paths ever cross? She hoped they would. Guilt had been plaguing her since the day of her escape. She owed him not only money, but also an explanation.

  By mid-June, Sable and Mrs. Jackson were comfortably ensconced in their small cottage. The structure resembled many others in the city’s south ward, with beautiful iron grillwork on the balcony. Thanks to the kindness of her neighbors, Sable had learned where to market and how to get Mrs. Jackson to St. Louis Cathedral, where she and most of the other French speaking Black Catholic citizens went for Sunday Mass.

  After church one Sunday, Mrs. Jackson happened upon a friend she hadn’t seen since leaving New Orleans. She introduced Sable.

  “Elizabeth Clark, I want you to meet a dear friend, Juliana LeVeq.”

  Sable’s eyes widened. Could she be a member of Raimond’s family? The short, dark-skinned woman’s eyes sparkled with warmth as she said, “I am pleased to meet you, Elizabeth. Thank you so much for bringing Verena home to us. Let me introduce my son, Beau.”

  Beauregard LeVeq was as handsome as his mother was beautiful. Tall, with sandy brown skin, he bowed over her hand like a courtier. The bow instantly reminded her of Raimond, and her heart began to pound. She managed to say, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. LeVeq.”

  “Call me Beau, please, mademoiselle.”

  Beau’s manner definitely reminded her of Raimond. Thinking back, she remembered him mentioning four younger brothers. Could Beau possibly be one of them? Like Raimond, Beau had a handsomeness that was positively overwhelming, but
it didn’t touch her with the intensity of the major’s charm.

  Still looking into Sable’s eyes, Beau said, “Mother, maybe you would like to invite Mademoiselle Clark and Madame Jackson to the rally tonight.”

  “What rally?” Sable asked. She sensed his interest in her as surely as she felt the sunshine beaming down on them.

  “We are rallying to demand something be done about the freedmen’s plight,” Juliana LeVeq explained. “Hundreds are arriving in the city daily, and no provisions have been made for their welfare. We have not an inch of space left in our churches and shelters to house them. Many of the refugees want to work but are being denied free access to jobs. Roving bands of white toughs are robbing them. There are even reports of refugees being killed for merely saying they are free. The situation is critical, and no one seems to have the authority to do anything about it.”

  Beau told Sable and Verena, “Mother is on every committee in town and adds her name to every new one that is formed. Attempting to keep up with her can be very tiring, Mademoiselle Clark, so be warned.”

  Sable admired women of action. She wouldn’t care to spend her life doing nothing but shopping, entertaining, and going to balls, as some of the women she’d met here were wont to do. “Do you need volunteers to work with the children?” she asked.

  “Heavens, yes,” Juliana exclaimed. “We need teachers, folks to write North for aid. We could use a thousand spellers—”

  “Where can I sign on?”

  Juliana smiled. “I’ll send a coach for you tonight and we’ll talk further, agreed?”

  Sable nodded. “Agreed.”

  Juliana then turned to Verena. “My apologies. I suppose I should have asked you if I may have Elizabeth. After all, you are her employer.”

  Verena waved her off. “Elizabeth’s evenings are her own. I’m honored you would invite her along. As for me, I’m too old to fight. I came to New Orleans to die, and I intend to enjoy myself by doing absolutely nothing until the time comes.”

  “She’s going to outlive us all,” Sable countered drolly.

  Everyone laughed, and shortly thereafter they said their good-byes.

  Beau kissed Sable’s hand once again. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Clark. I hope to see you this evening.”

  “It has been a pleasure meeting you also.”

  After he and his mother walked off to their coach, Sable helped Verena to their own rented hack.

  While Sable worried over how to approach Mrs. LeVeq with questions about her possible ties to Raimond, Verena said sagely, “That Beau is a very handsome man. You might want to set your cap after him. Even a half-blind old woman like me could see he was bowled over by my lovely Elizabeth.”

  “You are not to play matchmaker, Verena.” If Raimond and Beau were indeed siblings, she saw no future in any dealings with Beau.

  But Verena pretended she hadn’t heard a word. “Looks just like his father. Juliana has four—or is it five sons? I can’t remember. It might even be six. Whatever the number they’re all as handsome as a sunset.”

  “Do you know her husband?” Sable asked as the hack started up the street.

  “I did, but he’s been dead many years now.”

  “So she is a widow.”

  “Unless she has remarried during my years in Boston. Beau looks just like his late papa. You’d do well to travel under her wing. She is well known and was wealthy at one time. If anyone can find you a suitable husband, it will be Juliana.”

  “I don’t need a suitable husband, Mrs. Jackson,” Sable protested.

  “So you keep saying, but suppose I die, what then? You have no family and no one to care for you. Times are too chaotic to try and make your way alone. Didn’t you hear Juliana talking about all the problems?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Those will be your problems if we don’t find you someone.”

  “Finding someone is not my priority right now, Verena.”

  “Well, it should be.”

  Smiling at Verena’s singlemindedness, Sable shook her head and sat back to watch the city go by.

  That evening, Juliana’s coach arrived promptly at eight. As Sable stepped into it, she beheld the sight of Juliana on one seat and four handsome, grinning young men squeezed onto the other. She recognized Beau, but not the others.

  Juliana explained, “Elizabeth, my sons. Beau, you’ve met. Beside him are Archer, Drake, and Phillipe.”

  They all greeted her at once and Sable nodded back, although she felt a bit confused.

  “They all wanted to meet you,” Juliana informed her dryly.

  Sable took a seat beside Juliana. The son named Archer drawled, “You weren’t lying, Beau. She is beautiful.”

  Embarrassed, Sable had no idea what to say, but she prayed they would reach the rally soon.

  “Where are you from, Elizabeth?” asked dark-eyed Drake. His eyes matched his skin. Of the three brothers, he favored their mother most of all.

  “Georgia,” she replied. She saw no reason to lie because she doubted they could link her to her real self, given such limited information.

  Archer, never taking his eyes off Sable, replied, “His Highness was stationed there for a time.”

  Sable wondered whom he meant.

  Juliana came to her rescue once again. “He’s talking about his eldest brother, Raimond. It’s how they refer to him when they are being sarcastic. He’s in the Sea Islands presently. I expect him home within the month.”

  Sable felt her world briefly totter. So these people were his family. The enormity of the realization made her both elated and afraid. She wanted to blurt out the whole tale, but she didn’t know any of them well enough yet to make such a confession. What would they think of her if they found out her true past? She decided to bide her time, and keep her secret until Raimond returned.

  The rally took place in one of the city’s Black churches. Speaker after speaker came to the pulpit to denounce the government for not offering a hand to the freedman. There was talk of a group of prominent men going to see Congress to ensure that their concerns were heard. Freedmen were then asked to step up and tell their stories. Most related tragic tales similar to the ones Juliana had mentioned that morning outside the church. They spoke of being beaten by angry former masters and being thrown off plantations for refusing to sign contracts that gave them only a tiny share of any profits a former master made from their labor. One man stood up and related how he and a group of men had set out for Shreveport to find work, only to be set upon by thugs who swore to kill any Blacks who called themselves free. The thugs stole their horses and money, then set all their belongings on fire.

  In the end, petitions were passed around for everyone to sign. The leaders vowed to take them to army representatives the next morning.

  For the next two weeks, Sable spent all her free evenings helping on Juliana’s many committees. She wrote letters to the Northern aid societies on behalf of the crowded schools, asking for teachers, clothing, and supplies. She took baskets of food to church basements and wherever else refugees were being housed. There was sewing to do and blankets to distribute. Many a dawn found Sable having worked the night through, but she dismissed her weariness. She was a freed woman too, and were it not for the guidance of the Old Queens, she could be the one in need.

  Sable especially enjoyed the company of Juliana’s sons, even if it did appear they were competing for her attention. Archer, who owned a hotel and one of the best restaurants in town, escorted her to the market; Beau, the artisan, took her to the theater, where Blacks had box seats on the second tier. Drake, a builder and architect, took her on a tour of the city. And she had a chance to view Congo Square and other landmarks with Phillipe, a merchant seaman.

  The brothers brought Sable flowers, candy, and oranges. They were so competitive she started keeping a tally of where she went and with which brother, so she could not be accused of playing favorites. Juliana commented one evening that her sons remin
ded her of a litter of puppies all vying to be the one Sable picked to take home.

  In truth, Sable didn’t want to take any of them home. Although she had come to care for them all, her heart was already taken. Drake was funny, Archer was smart, and Beau and Phillipe were two of the handsomest men in the city, but they did not move her, not the way their brother had.

  Raimond LeVeq finally arrived in New Orleans during the first week of July. Juliana was so glad to see him walk in the door that for a moment, she could do nothing but stand there, feast her eyes on him, and allow silent tears to fall down her cheeks. As tears of joy welled in his own eyes, Raimond held his arms open, and she ran to be enfolded. He held her tight, as tight as he could because he loved her and had missed her so much.

  Once they could bear to part, Juliana, wiping away her happy tears, took him by the hand and led him into the salon. Raimond looked around the fondly remembered room and was disturbed to see that many paintings and other fine pieces of art were missing. Most of the furniture was gone too. His mother had been collecting beautiful things all her life. Knowing she’d had to sell many of her adored possessions in order to eat made him vow to restore as much of her way of life as he could. As dire as her circumstances must have been, she’d never once written to any of her sons to complain. Even now, dressed in an old gown that would have once been relegated to the rag pile, she stood proud and erect.

  “It’s so good to have you home, my son.”

  “It’s good to be here. How are you?”

  “I am fine.”

  “And the Brats?”

  She chuckled. “Your brothers are fine as well. They are all out at the moment, no doubt over at the church competing for the affections of a lovely young woman named Elizabeth Clark.”

  “All of them?” he asked surprised.

  “They’re acting like puppies in a box. You should see them.”