Beyond All Price

by Carolyn Poling Schriber

  “No, no, no, you don’t understand,” Nellie said, surprised by his unannounced arrival.

  “I know what I see!”

  “I was trying to explain the game of poker to these young men, so they don’t get taken advantage of.”

  “Poker is a sin! All card-playing is a sin! You’ll all go to Hell for this!”

  “I doubt that.” Nellie had recovered her composure, even as Reverend Browne seemed to be losing his. “I don’t remember reading anything about that in my Bible,” she went on. “We’re not gambling. There’s no money being won or lost. We’re having a rational discussion about the theory behind the game. Do you have something against rationality?” She glared back at him defiantly. “Being reasonable is a gift from God, is it not?”

  “I’ll see to it you are fired for this! You’re not a fit woman to be associating with this godly regiment. I’m going to the Colonel right this minute.”

  “You do that, Reverend. But you might wipe your chin first.” It was an uncalled-for comment, but Nellie couldn’t resist. She was almost relieved the hard feelings between them would be brought out into the open at last.

  ggg

  8

  Stormy Passage

  The fleet finally lifted anchors on Tuesday, October 29, 1861. The seas were still a bit rough, but the weather was warm and the skies a brilliant blue. For many of the Roundheads, this would be the first time they had sailed out of sight of land, and the experience was as exciting as it was terrifying. Many of the Roundheads had learned Nellie’s trick of watching the horizon rather than objects that lay close by, but when the horizon no longer revealed the promise of dry land, they were once again disoriented. The result was a recurrence of sea sickness, so pervasive that later the Camp Kettle recaptured the experience:

  If any body wants to get to the depth of deepest misery, let him just go to sea, and encounter a small gale the first day out. At first it is all nice, and consummately funny. The ship rises and sinks, and rolls and pitches, and settles away and comes right up again to go through the same gyrations over and over again, and your gait becomes unsteady, and rocky, and your companions laugh at you, and then you laugh at them, and it is all delightful, but by and bye, you begin to experience a sort of goneness all over, some thing not exactly desirable, until at last the vessel rears up at the bow and again goes down and you feel as if the bottom of the briny deep was rushing up through your epigastrium. And you make a rush for any convenient place, and aah! It’s disgusting.

  Nellie kept busy, offering advice, honey, ground ginger, and dry crackers to those most afflicted. When all else failed, she sent a couple of the sickest to the prow of the ship, telling them the captain wanted them to keep a sharp lookout for Confederate pirates. It didn’t matter that the captain had said no such thing, or that there were no Confederate pirates to be had. The subterfuge worked by forcing them to look out over the water and to shift their feet to keep their balance. Most handled their discomfort with a characteristic touch of humor. Private Stevenson remarked, “I wouldn’t care for throwing up the rice and beans, but I hate to lose the crackers after so much hard chewing to get them down.”

  By the second day, the seas had calmed, and the epidemic of seasickness seemed to have passed. The fleet stretched out as far as the eye could see, the ordered sails and funnels of the ships providing an artificial reassurance that all was well. As the men lounged about the deck, the officers had time to catch up on paperwork and administrative duties. For Nellie, that meant another interview about her behavior. Geordie Leasure sought her out with a message the colonel wanted to see her in his cabin. She didn’t have to ask why.

  She found Colonel Leasure hard at work at an improvised desk in his quarters. She tapped tentatively at his open doorway. Looking up, he gave her a quick nod and beckoned her to enter.

  “If you’re busy, Sir, I can come back later,” she said.

  “No, no, I need to talk to you. Just give me a moment to finish this dispatch. General Sherman does not like to be kept waiting, even when the answer to his question is unimportant.”

  “I’ll wait in the passageway, then.”

  “Nonsense. Come in and have a seat where you can be comfortable. I won’t be long.” His attention immediately refocused on the document he was writing. Nellie took a seat, perching gingerly on the edge of a deep armchair that threatened to swallow her if she leaned back. She was uncomfortably aware that from the passageway, anyone walking past the door could see she and the colonel were alone in his cabin. Leasure, however, seemed to have no such qualms, and as he continued to work, she gradually relaxed. She allowed her gaze to linger over this man whom she barely knew but who had changed her life dramatically.

  He’s a funny little fellow, she thought. With that beard and mustache and those muttonchop sideburns, he looks more like a loveable little bear than a military commander. But short as he is, everyone seems to look up to him. I’ve never heard anyone complain about him, and he does have kind eyes. He’s never been anything but gentle with me, though I wouldn’t want to cross him. An interesting man. I hope he lets me stay around long enough to get to know him. He’s someone I think I could trust.

  Her musings were interrupted by a whistle, which brought an orderly running into the cabin. “Yes, Sir?” the private saluted, and then cast a curious glance at the nurse sitting at the side of the desk.

  Nellie cringed, but the colonel seemed not to notice. “See to it this message is delivered to General Sherman’s transport as quickly as possible, Soldier.”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  “Now then, Mrs. Leath. I suspect you know why you’re here?”

  “Reverend Browne has been in to complain again, hasn’t he?”

  “What were you thinking, Nellie!” The colonel slammed his palm on his desk, and Nellie jumped despite herself. Quick tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked furiously.

  “You know how Robert feels about gambling, don’t you? You’ve heard his sermons as he’s preached over and over to our boys about the dangers of succumbing to temptation while far from home. Or haven’t you been listening?”

  “I . . . I . . . I’m sorry, Sir. I’ve heard him, and I understand what he’s been saying, but I thought. . . .”

  “No! Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I want to know what was going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

  Nellie’s mind reeled. She was terrified she was going to be sent home, although how that could be accomplished in the middle of the ocean she had no idea. She worried some of the soldiers she had befriended would witness her disgrace through that open cabin door. And at the same time, a niggling little voice in the back of her mind asked, Did he just call me pretty?

  She opened her mouth repeatedly, but no sounds came out. I must look like a goldfish, she thought, and that image brought her close to giggles. And if I’m a goldfish, I’m awfully out of place in the middle of this ocean. If Nellie had been able to move outside herself, she would have been astounded at her own feelings. Here she was, a tough little street urchin who had seldom met a man she didn’t secretly despise, all afluster over an encounter with a man old enough—and stern enough—to be her father.

  That comparison was enough to conquer the impending fit of giggles. In fact, the thought of her father had made her stomach clench. No, Colonel Leasure, with his warmth and kindness, was as unlike her father as he could be. Pushing unwelcome childhood memories aside, Nellie found she could react to the current reprimand as an adult, not a frightened child. She straightened her back and looked the colonel in the eye.

  “If Reverend Browne told you I was gambling, he was in error. I was, however, showing a couple of your Roundheads how a card game works. If that was wrong, I suppose I should apologize.”

  “In Robert’s mind—and perhaps in mine—there’s little difference. I repeat, what were you thinking?”

  “The two soldiers I was talking to had been cheated badly in a card game with some members of another regiment, Sir
. I know they shouldn’t have been playing at all, according to Reverend Browne, but the fact remains they were. And because they have been sheltered from the seamier sides of life, they had no idea how to play the game. Their innocence made them easy targets, and as a result they lost all their money and were beaten up in the process. They came to me for sticking plasters. I thought a bit of education might do them more good.” Nellie’s chin came up in a gesture of defiance. Now that she had a chance to defend her actions, she had exchanged her nervousness for a growing anger.

  “Wouldn’t it have been better to advise them not to play cards?” the colonel asked.

  “No! I try not to tell other people how to lead their lives. I leave that to the likes of Reverend Browne. I was trying to help them understand what had happened in that card game. How can they decide for themselves if something is wrong, if they don’t know what that something is all about?”

  “Well, it would be wise to tell someone not to drink hemlock without letting them try it for themselves, wouldn’t it?”

  “That’s hardly a fair example, Sir.”

  “Well, maybe not. But surely you can see how this whole incident looked to Robert, Nellie. He’s been waging war against the temptations of the world, and there you were, offering instructions in how to sin with more finesse.”

  She smiled despite herself, and the tension that had been building in the cabin began to ease. “Yes, of course, I see that. But isn’t there something to be said for ‘Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t’?”

  “Well, if there are going to be introductions to devilment, Nellie, it might be better they not come from an attractive young woman whom Robert sees as a temptation in herself.”

  Nellie let her breath out with a rush. “Is that what he thinks?” A frown wrinkled her forehead. “Why is it men always blame women for their own weaknesses?” she demanded. Another memory flashed past, but she pushed it aside.

  “Ah, Nellie, that’s an age-old question, isn’t it? And not one we’re likely to answer. Just remember that Robert Audley Browne is a fervent disciple of St. Paul’s version of Christianity. Paul thought women should not speak in public and should defer to men in all affairs. You won’t convince Robert that any woman, let alone one as young and pretty as you, can have anything worthwhile to offer. You are Eve. He would prefer you be Mary.”

  “Is that what you are telling me, too?”

  “No. If I felt that way, I would never have allowed you to join the Roundheads. I have a wonderful wife, Nellie—a woman who has taught me men are usually the weaker sex. Isabel is wiser than I in the ways of the world. She is stronger, more talented, and more compassionate than I ever could be. I have witnessed her struggles to be her own person, and I have despaired of the mistreatment she has suffered from the misogynists of our society. I would never place such limitations on a capable woman such as yourself. I’m simply asking you, once again, to be more circumspect in your dealings with the chaplain. You and he are going to be working together, whether either of you like it, and you need to find a way to co-exist.”

  “So I’m not going to be sent home?”

  “Of course not. The regiment needs you.”

  “But I should keep my mouth shut, right?”

  “I’m asking you to curb your tongue, not your thoughts. Can you be generous enough to allow him his erroneous views, even though you know him to be wrong?”

  “I’ll try. It’ll be against my nature, but I’ll be as humble as I can.”

  “You’ve been doing a fine job for us, Nellie. And we’re all learning to rely on your abilities. Thank you for what you do—and for understanding when one of us fails to live up to your expectations of us.” Colonel Leasure took Nellie’s proffered hand in both of his and gazed at her fondly.

  Flustered once again by his kindness, Nellie left the cabin feeling much more humble than she would have believed possible. She stood quietly for a moment, her eyes closed, and breathed deeply to corral her conflicting emotions. Then she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and opened her eyes to look straight into the blazing stare of Reverend Browne, who was approaching the colonel’s cabin from the other direction. She smiled; he scowled. Their stormy relationship was not easily put to rest.

  Nellie had little time to worry about such matters when she returned to sick bay. Robert Moffatt was waiting for her in the corridor. He supported a soldier who appeared decidedly unwell. The young man was small, cadaverously thin, shoulders hunched, angry red blotches marring his otherwise white face, beads of sweat popping out on his brow. He clutched a wadded kerchief to his lips, and periodically his whole body seemed to convulse as he coughed into the cloth.

  “Thank God you’re here, Miss Nellie! This is Bob Reynolds, my best friend from home, and I think he’s terribly ill.”

  “I’m all right, Robert,” the young man gasped. “It’s a cold that’s settled into my chest.”

  “No, I think it’s more than that. Here, Miss Nellie, feel his forehead. He’s burning up.”

  Nellie gingerly put her hand on the back of the soldier’s neck, already knowing what she would find. “You do seem to be running a fever, Bob. Perhaps we’d better find you a bunk here, where you can be more comfortable. May I take your kerchief?”

  “No, no, please. I’ll be all right.” But Private Moffatt tugged at the wad of cloth, and as it came away, splatters of blood told a different story.

  Nellie quickly settled Bob into a bunk at the back of the sick bay. “Can you stay with him while I find Doctor Ludington?” she asked.

  “Of course. I told you. Me and him are mates—have been since we were tykes. I’ll stay as long as he needs me.”

  Ludington was on the other side of the sick bay, attending to two other new arrivals. Nellie hurried to him. “Excuse me, Sir, but I have a sick soldier I need you to see.”

  “As do I here,” he replied. “Two more cases of measles, I’m afraid. Can you find some makeshift curtains to keep the light from affecting their eyes?”

  “Certainly. Right away. But, Sir, I have a patient who’s burning up and coughing blood. I really think you need to look at him now.”

  She now had the doctor’s full attention. “Consumption?”

  “It could be. I hope not, but. . . .’’

  Ludington patted the nearer measles case on the shoulder. “Miss Nellie here will take good care of you. You could not be in better hands. I’ll look in on you later.” With that he hurried off, led unfailingly by the sound of deep coughing.

  Nellie bustled through her duties, finding sheets to make up new bunks, brewing pots of catnip tea for the measles patients, and checking on the other soldiers who had only minor ailments to report. She tweezed out a splinter in seconds and treated an ear ache with a quick drop of hot oil. A cold compress on a sprained ankle reduced the swelling. There was a typhoid patient, Private Jasper Vliet, of the Fiftieth Pennsylvania Regiment, but Nellie had little to do with his care. The young man spoke only German, and his sergeant had come in with him, volunteering his services as caregiver as well as translator. She glanced over once in a while to see if help was needed. Most of her attention was drawn to the back of the room, where that white-faced young man struggled to contain his coughs as the doctor examined him.

  When he finished his examination, Doctor Ludington’s face was grim. He shook the soldier’s hand and then helped to ease him back onto the support of several pillows. He spoke quietly to Private Moffatt, and then left the bedside with an ill-concealed sigh.

  “Is it consumption?” Nellie asked.

  “Of course it is. How could you doubt it?”

  “But he’ll need to go to hospital! We can’t treat him here.”

  “Really? In case you’ve forgotten, we’re at sea, Mrs. Leath. What would you have me do? Turn the whole fleet of 80 ships and 12,000 men back to Annapolis so one sick soldier could be comfy until he dies?”

  “But he’ll die here!”