Beyond All Price

by Carolyn Poling Schriber

  “Yes, and I apologized. But he wouldn’t accept the apology. He as much as said I had ruined his entire military career. He said he—and the general, too—would never again be able to command the strict obedience of their troops, and in a battle, men might die because of it. And that would be my fault.”

  “What? That’s absurd.”

  “Not in his eyes. So, yes, I feel guilty. I lost his respect. I lost my job. I lost my cat. I may have caused the deaths of soldiers in our regiment. I lost everything!”

  “Surely the men in your regiment knew you well enough to know you didn’t mean any harm by what you did.”

  “Well, but that’s not the whole problem. You see, our chaplain, the Presbyterian minister I told you about, had it in for me from the time he met me. He suspected me of being an actress, or a prostitute, or worse. And when the colonel did not agree with him, he made terrible accusations that the colonel and I were . . . involved . . . in some way.”

  Sister Mary Xavier frowned and cocked an eyebrow at Nellie.

  “We weren’t, I swear! I adored Colonel Leasure, and I thought he was a wonderful leader, but that was as far as it went. I never thought of him in a romantic way. He was as old as my father, and that comparison was enough to . . . to . . . well, never mind. There was no involvement, but everyone, even the general, believed the chaplain’s accusations. I did ruin the colonel’s reputation, and my own.” Nellie said.

  “Did you mean to do all that when you disobeyed his orders?”

  “No, of course not. I just wanted to take care of my kitten.”

  “I don’t know what the Presbyterians say about personal responsibility, but I know what we Catholics would say to all of this. We believe—I believe—God cares more about our intentions than our actions. If I injure someone because I dislike him, I’m guilty of a sin. But if I injure that person while trying to save his life, that’s a good intention that far outweighs the result.”

  “I think I understand, but. . . .”

  “All I’m trying to say, Nellie, is someone has blown this incident out of all proportion. You are guilty of nothing more than a momentary weakness brought on by your love for one of God’s own creatures. You are not responsible for what the colonel and the general and the suspicious chaplain happen to think about you because of it.”

  “But I’m the one who lost everything.”

  “That’s true only if you let it be true. You can’t control what others do, but you can control your own actions. This incident will ruin your own life only if you allow it.”

  They let the matter rest for several days. Nellie continued to regain her strength, although she had no idea where to turn next. The sisters went on caring for her well-being, and no one mentioned the details she had revealed to Sister Mary Xavier. It was a peaceful interlude. Then one morning, Nellie received a letter addressed in care of the convent. “We were asked to give this to you when you were fully recovered,” Sister Mary Xavier told her. Nellie opened it slowly, not knowing what to expect.

  Dear Miss Chase,

  Colonel Leasure said I could find you at this address. I want you to know your cat, Cotton, is safe and well here aboard the Merrimac. The colonel brought her down to the crew deck and offered her services as a ship’s cat when the Roundhead Regiment disembarked. She has become a good little mouser and is busily ridding all our storerooms of the vermin that might get into our foodstuffs. She’s getting fat, too, because everyone aboard the ship loves her and keeps sneaking her tasty tidbits from our meals. She seems happy with her job and sleeps contentedly at the end of her shift. If you should ever happen to be in the same port as we are, Cotton and the ship’s crew would welcome a visit from you, so you could see for yourself what a fine cat that little kitten is becoming.

  Sincerely yours,

  Charles Ledbetter, First Mate

  Nellie could not stop crying, but for the first time in weeks, these were happy tears. “He didn’t kill her!” she exclaimed with shining eyes.

  “No, I didn’t think he would. You’ve been so busy believing Colonel Leasure hates you that you have forgotten what a good and decent man he is. Remember, he was the one who brought you to us when it looked like you were dying. I saw the caring and concern in his eyes that night when he knocked on our door.”

  “Why didn’t you remind me?”

  “It’s better you make that discovery for yourself, as you have. Now you can move on.”

  “Are you telling me it is time for me to leave?”

  “No. On the contrary. I was about to ask if you would like to stay on with us, not as a patient, but. . . .”

  “As a nun? No, thank you. I told you before, I’m not even Catholic.”

  “I understand that, but hear me out. We have lay sisters who are connected with the convent. They perform various duties. We have a woman who keeps our business accounts, another who manages the guest house, and several teachers in our orphanage. They are not nuns. They take no religious orders, and are simply paid a small salary for their services.”

  “Wait. Your orphanage? I’ve seen no children here.”

  “That was by design. You may remember Sister Verona telling you a shingles patient could spread chickenpox to children. We’ve deliberately kept you segregated so that didn’t happen. But now that you are recovered, would you like to tour our orphanage and meet our children? I could arrange a visit for tomorrow morning.”

  Hesitating, Nellie wondered if this were not a ploy to keep her at the convent. Finally, she agreed, hoping she would not fall hopelessly in love with the children as she had done back in the slave quarters of Beaufort.

  To her own surprise, Nellie found the children unappealing. She was taken from classroom to classroom, where the pupils sat primly at their wooden desks, their reed pens and inkwells arranged neatly in front of them, their hands clasped in their laps, and their eyes looking at the floor until someone addressed them by name. They wore uniforms, the boys in long-sleeved shirts and overalls, the girls in simple long dresses with white collars. They were serious, obedient, polite, and deadly dull. Not a single eye caught Nellie’s attention, not a single twinkle or grin to show a lively child was there. The orphanage living quarters gave the same impression—beds neatly made up in rows, a long dining table set with utilitarian utensils, a small recreation area that sported not a single childish game. Nellie felt sorry for the children, but she realized she was not the one to rescue them.

  “We would welcome you on the staff of our school,” Sister Mary Xavier told her.

  Nellie shook her head. “Sister, you have been unfailingly kind, and I shall never be able to repay you. But I cannot stay here. I am an army nurse, and there is a war going on out there on the other side of these walls. I don’t belong here, and you have no real need of me. I have to go back to the front.”

  “But you said yourself the Roundheads fired you, and they are long departed from Newport News. I don’t think you’ll be able to find them.”

  “If not the Roundheads, then some other unit will need me. I have nursed men through epidemics that plague military camps. I have treated wounds and illnesses that most young women have never seen. I’ve even helped with amputations after a major battle. Someone needs me out there, and I intend to find them. Will you help me?”

  “Of course. I know there are military build-ups going on north of here. I can ask a few questions of people in town. They may know of a military hospital in need of staffing.”

  “Thank you, Sister. Another wise woman once told me that I should stop running away from things and start looking for something to run to. If I stayed here, it would be another way of running away from my responsibilities. I must run toward them, instead.”

  ggg

  23

  Moving Forward

  Thanks to her many friends in town, Sister Mary Xavier soon had the necessary information. She called Nellie to her office and outlined a proposal. “From what I understand, the Army of the Potomac is planning a massiv
e assault on Richmond after the first of the year. Between now and then, they will be taking control of the Virginia cities north of Richmond in order to clear their path. The forces gearing up now are coming out of Maryland, so my best advice is this. There is a steamer leaving Hampton Roads on its way to Annapolis in a few days. You can take passage on it and report straight to Army Headquarters in Annapolis for assignment to a medical unit.”

  “Two problems I see,” Nellie saidd. “First, I have no money to book steamer passage. And even if I did, won’t the Sanitary Commission reject me out of hand? I mean, I hardly fit the description Dorothea Dix issued for those seeking employment with them. I’m too young, too vain, too. . . .”

  “Just stop,” Sister Mary Xavier ordered. “You’re throwing up road blocks where there need be none. Your passage is not a problem. The ship is the Saratoga, and the captain is offering free passage to anyone who wants to volunteer to become a nurse. The need is great, you see. And the same thing is true of Army Headquarters. Miss Dix may fulminate all she likes about the need for nurses who are plain and have high moral standards. But that doesn’t fill out a nursing staff. You walk in there and tell them you served with the 100th Pennsylvania for a year before falling ill, and you will be welcomed with open arms. I guarantee it.”

  By the middle of October, Nellie found herself bound for Annapolis. Nothing like moving forward by retracing my steps, she told herself. But at least I’ve been in Annapolis before. I’ll know where to go and what to do this time. I’m not the same ignorant little girl who arrived there the first time.

  She boarded the Saratoga on October 13th and immediately felt at home. The ship’s routines were familiar, the excitement on deck contagious, and the fresh sea air invigorating. After stowing her small bag in the ladies’ cabin, she returned to the deck, unwilling to be closed in after spending so much time in a hospital bed. She stood on the afterdeck, letting the wind ruffle her hair and taking deep breaths. She was so enjoying the sensation of being set free that she hardly noticed when a man in Union blues came to stand by her side.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss. Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” she replied without ever really looking at the owner of the voice.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to seem forward, but I really think. . . .”

  She turned in annoyance, and then her eyes widened as she saw the uniform of the Seventy-Ninth New York Volunteer Regiment. “You’re a Highlander?”

  “I knew there was something familiar about you! But I still can’t place you. How did you know about my regiment’s nickname?”

  “Because we were. . . .” She stopped in confusion.

  “Please. What were you going to say?”

  “I don’t know you, Sir, but I was in South Carolina when your regiment was there.”

  “In what capacity?” he asked. “You’re not a Southern belle. I can tell by your New England accent.”

  “No. I was with the . . . with another regiment . . . as a nurse.”

  “Well, there’s the connection, then. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Doctor John McDonald, the surgeon assigned to the Highlander regiment. And you are. . . ?”

  “Nurse Nellie Chase, formerly with the Roundhead Regiment.” Now that she had admitted her identity, she held her breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

  “Of course! I remember now. You are that amazing young woman who worked with Colonel Leasure after the Battle of Secessionville. I remember coming into the Rivers House looking for our wounded, and there you were, covered in blood and helping with amputations as if you had been doing it all your life.”

  “Actually, I was shaking in my shoes,” she admitted, “but yes, I was helping to administer the chloroform.”

  “But why aren’t you with the Roundheads now? Or are you heading out to join them?”

  “I’ve been ill. They moved on without me.” There was nothing false in either of those statements, but Nellie could feel her heart hammering as if she had told a huge lie. She turned away from Doctor McDonald while a debate conducted itself in her head. If she did not explain what had happened, he might continue to probe at her explanations. But if she did admit she had been fired, he would walk away in disgust. I’m tired of living this melodrama, she told herself.

  Straightening her shoulders, she looked the officer in the eye. “I have been ill, but actually, I was fired,” she stated, “at the order of your own General Stevens. And I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I’m sorry. It must be a painful subject for you. All the same, it seems like a gross miscarriage of justice. The Union forces are in such dire need of competent nursing staff. In fact, that’s partially why I’ve been traveling around the countryside. I’ve been sent to see if I can’t recruit more medical staff. Are you looking for a job?”

  Nellie caught her breath. “Yes, but . . . no, you couldn’t possibly hire me. General Stevens would never allow it.”

  “General Stevens is dead, Miss Chase. He was killed in action at Chantilly on the first of September. You hadn’t heard?”

  “No.” She shook her head, unable to reconcile her own mixed feelings of relief and sadness.

  “He died bravely, actually. He was galloping across the battlefield to rescue our colors as our flag-bearer fell. He was shot in the head by a bullet, just as he grasped the flagpole.”

  “A good death, the kind every soldier wishes for, I understand,” Nellie said. “I haven’t heard anything about the war since I fell ill in Virginia. I was taken to a convent and nursed back to health by wonderful nuns who did their best to keep all unpleasant news from me. I don’t even know where the Roundheads are. When I announced I wanted to go back to being an army nurse, the nuns suggested that there might be a need for my skills if I went back to Annapolis, so that’s where I’m heading. Could you fill me in on what’s been going on?”

  “That would be a long story, I’m afraid. When did you leave your regiment?”

  “Around the end of July, I think. I wasn’t really conscious enough to know the date.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what. When we reach Annapolis, I’ll escort you to the Navy Yard Hospital and introduce you to the medical staff there. That’s where the Ninth Army Corps doctors are preparing for our next big campaign to take the city of Richmond. When I tell them of your combat experience, I know they’ll want you to join their efforts. And if they choose to assign you to the Seventy-Ninth New York, I will welcome your help. The details of what has happened during the last few weeks will fill themselves in with time.”

  When Nellie stopped to ponder the course her life had taken, she was amazed to realize how effortlessly she had fitted back into military life. The doctors at the Navy Yard had asked only a few generalized questions:

  Did she know how to recognize the most common contagious diseases?

  What would she do if a patient came down with malaria and there was no quinine available?

  What is the best remedy to soothe a bronchial cough?

  What would she serve a convalescent whose appetite had disappeared?

  Had she ever seen a combat injury?

  Her answers had come so quickly and easily that they soon abandoned any attempt to find the holes in her medical knowledge. Nellie was a prime addition at the hospital, and they welcomed her. Soon she had her own ward of patients and younger staff members to do her bidding. The supply sergeants consulted her about the needs of a field hospital, and the cooks sought advice on hospital menus.

  Now and then Nellie thought about the Roundhead Regiment, but she didn’t want to ask too many questions, for fear of making her new colleagues question her loyalty to them. She waited and listened. It soon became evident the fortunes of her old regiment had not taken a turn for the better. They had fought bravely at the Second Battle of Bull Run but suffered massive casualties—27 dead and 117 wounded. At Chantilly, they lost another seven men, although their actions had helped save the northern
army from suffering a severe defeat at the hands of Robert E. Lee. At South Mountain, they drove the rebels from the field but were not allowed to follow up their victory. And at Antietam, they were held to the sidelines, which protected them from the kind of massive loss suffered by other Union forces but cast them once again in the role of bystanders.