Beyond All Price

by Carolyn Poling Schriber

  “You were kind at a moment when I much needed kindness. I wouldn’t forget that. How have you been? Were you involved in the action at the ferry?”

  “Oh, you bet I was, and it was wonderful.”

  Nellie smiled at his enthusiasm. “Well, tell me about it.”

  “Me and my company was stationed at that plantation—Seabrook, they call it. Our job was to capture the guns and soldiers in the battery after the Navy got through firing at ‘em. We waited, all hid-like, and finally two boats came down the river from the direction of Beaufort and started hurling shells into the battery. By the time they was done, there warn’t nothin’ left of that there battery for us to capture.

  “The boat captains come up to the pier at the plantation and loaded us all aboard. We sailed on down to the ferry, but we had to git in line behind the boats carrying Colonel Leasure and his four companies across the river. And by the time we got there, that fight was over, too, and we didn’t even get off the boat. I had a first-class seat, though, for all of the show. Best New Year’s Eve I ever spent.”

  “The best news for me was none of our soldiers were hurt,” Nellie said.

  “Yes, M’am, but we got bragging rights, too. The Roundheads was the first ones into the fort, and one of the Navy officers said we was the coolest bunch under fire he had ever seen.” James beamed from ear to ear as he went on about his mission.

  Another account of the battle appeared in the Camp Kettle on January 7th:

  The enemy had become insolent and taunted us in many ways, besides erecting batteries and fortifications along the shore at various points, and it became necessary to give them a slight rebuke, and besides our fellows up here in front were “spilin’ for a fite” and it was thought best to give them a “New Years frolic” and an opportunity of getting accustomed to stand fire at the same time. We had the frolic, and we stood fire, which is more than can be said by some other people we saw that day.

  Nellie absorbed all the reports with mixed emotions. One part of her wanted to rejoice with the soldiers; the other nagged at her about her future with the regiment. Several times after the soldiers returned, Nellie thought about talking to Colonel Leasure. He was rumored to be somewhat unwell, however, and was not spending as much time in his office as usual. When she asked Doctor Ludington about his well-being, the doctor invited her into his surgery. “He has a touch of dysentery, Nellie. Not serious, but he’s had it since before the battle. I tried to tell him he shouldn’t be up and about, but he couldn’t let his men march into action without him. One of the surgeons stayed with him, making sure he rested whenever possible, and giving him opium and camphor pills to relieve his pain. He doesn’t want anyone to know, however—finds it all a bit embarrassing, I suppose. Just give him some time to recover before you try to talk to him, if that’s what you had in mind.”

  The next Saturday afternoon, once most of her duties had shut down for the weekend, Nellie took her kitten and a cup of tea out onto the piazza to enjoy the weather. She eyed the sky with a bit of concern. Little clouds were sailing in, forming a pattern her fisherman uncle would have called ‘a mackeral sky’. It usually meant a change in the weather was coming, she knew. And because she also knew herself pretty well, she realized a rainy period might send her spirits plunging, too. Oh, come on, Nellie. It’s January 11th. What did you expect? Good weather can’t last forever. Nor good moods, either, for that matter, she scolded herself.

  She was surprised when Uncle Bob interrupted her musings. “That Miz Mary Pollock be here to see you. Come up with her father while he be here on biz’ness. Should I sends her out here?”

  “Oh, yes, by all means. And ask Maudy to bring another cup and some more tea.” Nellie rose from her rocker and greeted her friend with open arms. “How nice to see you, Mary. I hope you are well.”

  “I’m well, thank you, but I’ve been somewhat concerned about you. At your Christmas Day festivities, you seemed to be deliberately avoiding me, so I never got the change to wish you a happy New Year. I’ve wanted to come back, but I had to wait until Father was coming. In the aftermath of the battle, he doesn’t want me traveling about the island on my own.”

  “Does he think you’d be in danger? From what?”

  “Oh, snipers and such. I don’t know, but I try to please him when he gets one of his ideas.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here now. I can really use some company. I’ve been talking to little Cotton, but since she’s a kitten, and deaf to boot, it doesn’t get me far.”

  “Oh, she’s beautiful. May I hold her?”

  Nellie handed her the kitten, but Cotton refused to settle in Mary’s lap. She wiggled and twisted and ducked her head. As soon as she got the chance, she jumped down and scampered back to Nellie, clambering up her skirts to settle in her accustomed spot.

  “She’s really devoted to you, isn’t she?”

  “I’m all she knows,” Nellie explained. “I still have to feed her with a bit of twisted rag dipped in cream. I suspect she thinks I’m her mother.”

  Mary drew a deep breath. “And we are avoiding the issue that brought me here. What was wrong on Christmas Day? Had I done something to offend you?”

  “No, no, Mary. It had nothing to do with you. We had had a flair-up over Christmas dinner. The delightful Reverend Browne demanded I leave the table and accused the Colonel and me of having some sort of illicit relationship. It was all nasty and shocking, coming in that setting. But I suppose I should have expected nothing less of the good chaplain. It was his first full day out of his sickroom, and he did not approve of the family atmosphere he found downstairs.”

  “That miserable man!” Mary shook her head. “So that’s why he moved out of here and over to the Fuller House to complete his recuperation? I heard about that, but there has been no explanation of what brought it on.”

  “I don’t know whether he left in anger or whether Colonel Leasure suggested he leave. It was an intolerable situation, as you can imagine, and I was relieved to have him gone.”

  “For your sake, I’m glad. Hope the doctors keep him penned up over there for a good long time.”

  Nellie shrugged. “It won’t be an issue much longer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m getting ready to leave, Mary.”

  “Oh, no. Why? None of this is your fault. You can’t let Reverend Browne drive you away. You have a job to do here.”

  “So Bessie tells me,” Nellie said.

  “Bessie?”

  “Our cook. I was looking for my valise the day after Christmas, planning to take the first chance I found to get out of here. Bessie heard about it, since the slaves always know what’s going on, and she scolded me. You should have heard her go on. Or maybe you shouldn’t. Her language was a bit coarse for civilized company.”

  Nellie smiled despite herself, and Mary joined in her laughter. “But what did she say? Obviously you took it to heart. You’re still here.”

  “She started by telling me the difference between black folks and white folks. She said black women run away because they don’t have any other choice. But a white woman, in her view, has choices and should only run to something, not away from something.”

  Mary sat quietly for a moment. “Run to something, not away from something. It’s good advice, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is. She’s a wise woman. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot. She’s certainly right about my life. I’ve been running away from things for as long as I can remember. I’ve never known where I was going or what I wanted. I just fled—from an abusive father, a vicious husband, a dangerous living environment. And I’ve landed in some pretty unexpected and nasty spots—barrooms, gambling dens, jail cells, theater basements, dirty tenements, and now an army camp. I admit this is not what I planned to do with my life. But then, I never planned to do anything. I don’t even know how to find somewhere to run to, which is why I’m still here. You can tell me not to run away and I’ll agree, but I don’t kno
w how to do anything else.”

  Mary spoke softly. “I know, Nellie, I know. I felt the same way after Robert died. I simply couldn’t see a way ahead.”

  “But you did take control of your life.”

  “Eventually. My father gave me some good advice, too. It’s a little different than the wisdom Bessie offered you, but I think both ideas lead us in the same direction.”

  “And that was?”

  “He said we can’t live in the past because it’s already gone. And we can’t live for the future because we don’t know whether we even have a future. All we can do is live in the present. It’s all we have, and all we may ever have. We need to make each day important and valuable. All we can do is learn as much as we can from the present and enjoy it to the fullest, so that we can be ready for whatever the future may hold.”

  Nellie thought about it for a few moments. “So we can be ready if someday we find something to run to.”

  “Exactly. You can’t force your future into some kind of mold. You can only be ready to accept it.”

  Once the holidays were over, the soldiers of General Stevens’ Second Brigade settled into a period of watchful waiting but comfortable living. The Confederates, after their embarrassing defeat at the Battle of Coosaw Ferry, were more careful about sending spies or sharpshooters on forays into Union territory. With one victory, the Yankees had declared their military superiority, and the lesson was taken. There were a few scattered incidents, but they were mostly unpleasant rather than dangerous.

  One wealthy widow who had been forced to flee her plantation on Port Royal Island began sending the Union officers packages of silver coffin nails. It was her version of a death threat, they guessed, but no one was ever sure exactly what motivated the gifts. Other soldiers reported finding human skulls lying about. These had been carefully labeled as “Yankee skull” and had handles attached so they could be used as drinking cups. Macabre, perhaps, but more the workings of a slightly deranged mind than a serious military challenge. The Roundheads could afford to relax and enjoy their South Carolina stay.

  Daniel Leasure, too, had had time to recover from his recent illness, and he was newly determined to put the ongoing feud within his staff to rest. He began by calling Nellie into his office one late afternoon. She was, for the most part, the victim of Reverend Browne’s attacks, but he knew he could not placate the chaplain without her active assistance.

  “Mrs. Leath,” he began, and the formal address warned Nellie this was to be no ordinary conversation. “When you came to me to sign on as our matron, you seemed forthright in telling your story. But as I look back upon that interview, I’ve come to realize you actually told me little. You named your home state, but not the town. You talked about your parents but without giving them names. The same was true of your description of your husband—colorful, sometimes brutally honest descriptions, but no real identifying facts. You bought a sewing machine from a sales man who gave you a new way to pay it off—again, no name of company or salesman. You were hired by the nameless manager of a nameless theater. You lived in a dangerous tenement, but you made it clear there was no record of its residents. Surely you must see such omissions might someday raise questions about your true identity?”

  Nellie’s gaze did not waver. Only a close look at her hands would have revealed their slight tremor. “So, you want to check my story now. Do I understand you correctly?”

  “I’m not through! I have to consider this lack of precise information in the light of another event—one in which you refused to sign formal enlistment papers with the regiment, even though it would have meant you would receive a small salary. What are you hiding, Mrs. Leath?”

  Nellie bowed her head for a few long moments. When she lifted her eyes to the colonel’s again, the lashes sparkled with unshed tears. “I suppose I’m hiding myself, Sir.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m hiding from my past. I don’t want anyone to find me and drag me back into a life I’ve worked hard to escape. That was why I didn’t want to sign the government’s papers. As for the story I told you, it was all painfully true. I just didn’t want anyone prying into my past. If that’s wrong, if I’ve betrayed your trust somehow, I’m sorry.”

  “No, you haven’t betrayed me in any way. You’ve done everything you promised, and much more. But you know Reverend Browne is determined to run you out of this regiment. He keeps demanding information from me, and he won’t accept the fact I don’t have it.”

  “He’s investigating me?”

  “Yes, he is. He has many friends in Pittsburgh, as do I, and I hear rumors he is circulating questions about you. He seems particularly concerned about your association with a theater, an institution he regards as only a bit less sinful than the pits of Hell themselves, apparently.”

  “How awful of him!”

  “Nellie, Robert is not an evil man. He’s too zealous sometimes, and he’s terribly stubborn when he gets an idea in his head. But he’s not evil. In fact, I believe if he knew you were in any sort of danger, he would be the first to step in.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You’re going to have to trust me on this matter, Nellie. I suspect you could safely reveal to him exactly who you are and all the identifying bits you’ve left out of your original story. If he understood why you didn’t want that information spread around, he would keep it to himself. He is, after all a man of the cloth.”

  “All right. What do you want me to tell you?”

  “Well, start by giving me a few facts I should have checked while we were still in Pittsburgh. What was the name of the theater where you served as wardrobe mistress, and who was your employer? Can I send someone to talk to him?”

  “It was the New Pittsburgh Theatre, and the manager was a Mr. William Henderson. He was in many ways a frustrated actor, who was better at staging a theater production than at performing in one. He had made his peace with his own failed ambitions but had little tolerance for the ambitions of others. He was impatient, snappish, and generally bored with women. He may not even remember me. You’re welcome to try, however. Will that satisfy you?”

  “It’s not for me. Nellie. It’s to help me be in a position to defend you. With your permission, I’m going to send this information to my wife. She is in Pittsburgh frequently on business. She can make a discreet inquiry about your job at the theater, and if she confirms your story, the chaplain will accept her word.”

  “And that will be the end of this?”

  “Well, Robert’s going to want to hear the rest of your story from your own lips. Will you do that, if I can arrange an audience with the three of us? Can you bring us some kind of proof of someone who knows you, something easily verifiable, to convince him you are not a ‘devil’s spawn’?”

  “I’ll try. But if I sense he’s going to use the information against me, I’ll be forced to flee—again.”

  Inwardly, Nellie was shaking her head at her own fickle emotions. Just days before, she had been ready to quit her job. Now here she was, trying her best to save it. Do I always want what I can’t have? she wondered. If that’s so, I’m doomed to be forever unhappy.

  ggg

  18

  The Past Revisited

  A few weeks later, Nellie was seated across the room from the two men who held control over her life. “My name is Ellen Merrill Chase,” she began, “although everyone has always called me Nellie. That part’s not a lie.” The small attempt at humor made Leasure’s cheek twitch, although Browne seemed unmoved.

  “I was born on March 1, 1838, in Windham, Maine. My parents are Jane Steele Merrill and Jacob E. Chase. I grew up on a prosperous 4,000 acre farm, although my father was also a carriage-maker by trade. My family was well-known in the town. We were members of the Episcopal Church, and my father often served on one city commission or another. I have four brothers. Edwin and Isaac are slightly older than I, while Jacob and Eastman are younger.