The Treasure Train

by Bob Young

  Patrick looks at Elisabeth, then over to Jacob – and back to Elisabeth.

  She speaks following a long pause: “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything, just yet. There’s more. I’m now an agent for the Federal government, continuing my original mission.”

  Mouthing silent words, Elisabeth looks down and shakes her head.

  Jacob speaks up next: “And, um…though you know me as your pastor, I am also a Union agent, and Patrick is now working for me.”

  “You two…” Elisabeth stands up and points her index finger at each one of them. “You two are…are…” Yet the words trail off.

  “Amazing?” Patrick asks, trying to wrench up some charm.

  “No! I would not say that,” shoots back Elisabeth. “Patrick, I just don’t understand all of this. I’m very confused.”

  “I know, darling,” Patrick says. “Sometimes I don’t understand it myself. But I have important work still to do in Augusta, and I can no longer do it and deceive you at the same time.”

  “Sorry to be such a burden!” she shouts.

  Blushing, Patrick says, “Not at all! No. I mean…I wish you to be my wife, and I cannot carry this load within my heart. No burden!”

  Jacob adds: “Elisabeth, Patrick has been concerned about your safety and your son’s. That’s why he has not discussed this with you before. Nothing else.”

  Elisabeth sits back down, then looks straight at Patrick. “Patrick Graham, what else do I need to know?”

  “Nothing,” he replies. “You know it all now. At least in the broadest strokes.”

  “Good.” She turns to Jacob. “Now what are these things you need to share with Patrick?”

  She can contain herself no longer; she breaks out into laughter. Relived, so do the men. Jimmy looks up from the bank, but quickly turns his attention back to a burgeoning war with some dragon flies.

  Jacob picks up the conversation: “This morning the mayor put out a flier. Here it is…” he reads, holding up the paper:

  “The Rev M. French of Gen Saxton’s staff will address the planters of this vicinity at Masonic Hall at 10 ½ o’clock on the subject of retaining the services of their late servants. Mr. French will be assisted by Capt Bryant, who is appointed by the government to arrange terms of agreement between the Planters and their late servants. Planters are respectfully invited to attend. Signed—Robt H. May, Mayor.”

  Then he adds, “I think we ought to be there, Patrick. Truth be told, I am really worried about these new agents and the overall attitude of folks around here.”

  “I fully agree. We don’t need any new powder kegs.”

  Elisabeth speaks up, “Patrick, this is the Lord’s day, not the mayor’s day. That’s enough work for now, and far too many revelations. Let’s go find Jimmy some lunch.”

  “No argument here,” says Jacob.

  Patrick and Elisabeth look at him and laugh, liking the subtle way he’s invited himself along.

  “Come along, Jimmy!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  During breakfast time at the Office Restaurant, you can always count on Mayor May to have a discussion that is worth all the effort to eavesdrop that a person can muster. This morning is no exception.

  Patrick’s alone at his usual table, and the mayor is holding court with General Molineux at a round table in the middle of the room. Across the room, in the appropriately darkened rear corner, are Roads and his associates.

  “General,” says the mayor, “I’m really catching it from the editors at the Chronicle and Sentinel. White folks are interfering with the colored boys who are selling their newspapers on the streets.”

  “Mayor, the Provost Marshal can handle that. Just tell the editors to turn their names in, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Fair enough, general. That should please them.”

  “Mayor, I’m told you’re having some trouble collecting taxes.”

  “We are, sir. I have learned with surprise, not unmixed with mortification, that there are a few parties in our midst engaged in business who refuse the certificates of indebtedness now being issued by the City Council of Augusta. These are fine specimens, the handiwork of master artist J. M. Fisk, and printed by J. T. Paterson and Company. Let me show you one.” The mayor plucks a note from his pocket. The bill is printed in black and tinted. “The city today is amply able to meet every dollar of her liabilities, as at any time previous to the war.”

  As the mayor speaks, his voice gets a bit louder. It’s as though he knows that he has an audience. In any case, more and more diners turn to hear what he is saying.

  “During the war, the city’s current expenses were paid as they arose. Her financial credit in every emergency has been preserved untarnished, and it is not to be supposed for a moment that now, when the contest is over, she will fail to comply with every obligation she has assumed or may assume in the future.”

  The surrounding attention has grown rapt.

  “Her assets are of the most substantial character, having value at all times and under all circumstances. These assets are real estate and stocks. The principal portion of the latter is a railroad now in full and successful operation for its entire length. In addition, the taxes will be arranged so as to guarantee the discharge of all liability.”

  Now the mayor is undeniably aware that he has an audience, as he begins to play his remarks to the other diners in addition to General Molineux.

  “The military authorities do not object to the issue and circulation of the bills. Everyone who receives a license from the City Council of Augusta to transact any business whatever will be required to accept these certificates of indebtedness for the amount expressed on the face, or their licenses will be revoked.”

  “That seems to be a good approach,” says the general.

  “We know, general, it is probable that for some time to come there will be much inconvenience among the people for want of a sound circulating medium. The currency of the United States cannot immediately get into the hands of the people for all their purposes. These issues of the city council, based as they are upon securities of certain value, must be as good as any can possibly be.”

  All of a sudden, a stout man across the restaurant shouts to the mayor, “Give us one good reason why we should have to accept these things!”

  A chorus of disagreements rises.

  The mayor looks back over to him and responds, “There exists no valid reason why they should not be received by our own people, and by all others who have business dealings with Augusta. It will not be long before those who are now seeking to depreciate them will be anxious to obtain them for the payment of their taxes.”

  The line draws a sorry smattering of applause. However, the mayor clearly has the stage, and he intends to keep it fully occupied.

  “The City of Augusta has always maintained inviolate character for financial probity, and she will continue to maintain that reputation so far as these obligations are concerned. She has never repudiated her liabilities, and she is not now in a situation to render it necessary for her to do so. I therefore trust there will be no further attempt to depreciate the bills of the City Council, and should there be such an attempt made by unprincipled speculators to the lifeblood of a community, it will be frowned down upon by all classes.”

  He’s done it, at long last. The restaurant bursts into fiery applause. Even Patrick finds himself joining in, wearing a broad smile. He can certainly appreciate the mayor trying to hold his city together against incredible odds and circumstances. In a surreal display, even General Molineux offers applause.

  “Well said, mayor. Well said.”

  “Thank you, sir,” responds Mayor May, as he rises and politely bows toward the general.

  “Mayor, please have a seat. I have a couple of matters to discuss with you.”

  “Oh, yes. Certainly. Thank you, general,” says the mayor, returning his posterior to the seat of the chair.

  “Major Allen
has posted two more orders I want you to be aware of. First, he is closing all liquor dealers in the city. It was not enough just to keep the liquor out of the hands of enlisted soldiers.”

  “Very well. We do have a real problem with keeping the peace.”

  “This should help. Anyone who sells liquor to citizens or soldiers will be arrested and fined, and their stock confiscated. Also, Major Allen is directing that auctioneers must submit to the Supervisor of Trade, Lieutenant Colonel Waltermire, the lists of property they plan to sell. And he’s barred any sales during evening hours.”

  “These orders seem reasonable, general. The City Council is ready to assist you in any way.”

  “Thank you, mayor. I knew you would understand. I want you to know, too, that Jeff Davis and the other prisoners will be coming through here in a couple of days by train to transfer to a boat to go to Savannah. I trust we will have no demonstrations.”

  “Sir, you can count on that.” May puts his hat back on for the sole sake of tipping the brim to the general. “Good day, sir,” he says.

  And at last, he takes his leave.

  The clerk from the express office brings an envelope over to Roads’ table. Hardly reacting, Roads brushes the boy aside and opens the envelope. Patrick watches and listens closely. He can’t hear what Roads is saying, but whatever is in the wire, it prompts an animated discussion between Roads and his associates. The two men leave Roads at the table and walk to the door, talking between themselves. Fortunately, Patrick is able to pick up a couple of bits:

  “Leave tomorrow.”

  “Richmond banks.”

  And that is plenty. He knows the essential meaning. The deposits of the Richmond banks will be leaving Washington tomorrow. He needs to let Jacob know that Roads is up to something and that the shipment is probably not safe.

  Patrick sweeps up his newspaper and walks out onto the street in search of his friend.

  * * *

  It doesn’t take Elisabeth long to settle back into her home. As for Patrick, it seems much more like a home to him than it did when they first met. The colors are now bright. A child’s laughter can be heard. And Patrick even feels like he belongs.

  Regardless, he explains that he must press on:

  “Elisabeth, I’d like nothing better than to spend all my days with you and Jimmy, but I do have some work to do.”

  She nods, her eyes briefly flexing downward, then back up with evident enthusiasm. “I understand, Patrick. We’re fine. You deliver Roads to the authorities, and it will be worth every moment we are apart.”

  “Thank you, darling. Meanwhile, I talked with Major Allen, and we don’t have any indication that Roads is going to bother you or Jimmy. But it’s really important that the both of you keep to each other and be aware of what’s going on around you. These are devious people who cannot be trusted.”

  “I never let Jimmy out of my sight, Patrick. And I don’t go anywhere I don’t need to go. But we’re also not going to let some bad guy dictate to us how to live our lives.”

  Patrick reassures her, “If fate plays a fair hand, it won’t be too much longer. Maybe just another day or so.”

  “Why don’t we go to the Concert Hall this weekend?”

  “Who’s performing?” Patrick asks, shifting his tone to a lighter one.

  Elisabeth’s voice perks up, as well: “Sam Hubbard is reopening the Hall for what he claims is the best talent in the country. Of course, that’s Sam and his wife! She’s known as the Lady of Lyons. A few others from Crisp’s Dramatic Corp will be joining them. It’s only fifty cents.”

  “Let’s plan on it. I should be back by then. Jacob and I are going to attend the Freedmen’s meeting tonight, then head up to Washington.”

  “You be safe,” Elisabeth admonishes Patrick.

  He walks toward her to kiss her.

  “Don’t worry. Being safe is why I’m standing here now.”

  * * *

  The Masonic Hall is near the point of frenzy, a scene of borderline chaotic activity. Mayor May has invited many of Augusta’s most important citizens and large planters, and by the time Patrick and Jacob arrive, all the seats are gone, so they find a convenient corner in the back. Everyone stirs and glares anxiously.

  John Bryant is down front with the mayor, seated along with Reverend French. From Patrick’s vantage point, Reverend French doesn’t look so ominous; he’s just a man who has come to Augusta at the behest of Bryant because of his previous work with the negroes at Port Royal.

  French was born in Manchester, Vermont, and after seminary, spent his career at various colleges and schools in Ohio until he moved to New York City for the sake of publishing a religious journal. It was in New York that he became a strong antislavery agitator and even clinched an opportunity to share his views with President Lincoln. In 1862, Reverend French visited Port Royal to see the condition of the negroes with his own eyes.

  Once back in New York, he formed the National Freedmen’s Relief Association and organized a large group of teachers known as Gideon’s Band to return with him to Port Royal. He later served General Saxon’s command as chaplain, and in 1864 purchased Tabby Manse, one of the finest homes in Beaufort at a tax sale.

  French met Bryant in Port Royal. They became close associates through their shared extreme views on abolition. They were so close, in fact, that French hosted a Sunday dinner for teachers and friends of the Freedmen to mourn the loss of Bryant in combat— except that Bryant wasn’t dead, and he actually showed up at the meal! Regardless of his quality of knowledge on the man, French saw Bryant as an “honest and honorable man…whose name strikes terror to the hearts of the rebels.”

  And on this night, both men share the stage in Augusta for their first important meeting with the very people they will have to come to rely on to give life to their dreams. They are therefore courteous and conciliatory and clearly have measured their every word to impress the audience.

  Taking the podium, Reverend French awards recognition to the Providence of God rather than the wisdom or power of man for creating the events which have called the assembly together.

  “My mission,” he says, “is not to wound but to heal, not to exasperate, but to soothe.” He goes on to say that the Freedmen’s Bureau is to confront the existing emergency and, “to the extent possible, provide for present necessities. I am ready not only to offer suggestions, but also to receive advice and instruction from the humblest of my fellow countrymen.”

  “What about the negroes?” a voice shouts from the middle of the room.

  “Sir, I have uniformly advised them to remain where they were comfortably situated and would be fairly compensated to remain at the ‘old home,’ because in a majority of instances the former owner would be more likely to sympathize with them than utter strangers. On all occasions regardless of the particulars, I have counseled them to be sober, truthful, and industrious.”

  He is careful to also say that while the government will do its utmost to provide for the aged and infirm, it has bestowed no premiums on laziness. “Those who are physically able to work and can find employment—are not to be supplied with food and clothing by the government,” he proclaims.

  Reverend French then speaks at some length about the practical workings of the free labor system at Port Royal and other points along the coast. He states that the scheme was generally successful, and that a great body of negroes has increased in terms of intelligence and wealth. “These freedmen during the last two years had deposited in a savings bank of their own largely over one hundred thousand dollars, net earnings of their labor.”

  He goes on to inform the audience that the plan of working the plantations near the coast provides for the owner of the land to furnish stock and implements and to divide the products equally with the laborers. However, he cannot say whether or not this will be a perfectly fair arrangement for both parties in the interior. He urges the planters to be willing to do that which is just to themselves, as well as satisfactory to their
former slaves.

  The audience is beginning to snicker and scoff. What they are hearing, however measured and eloquent, simply confirms their impressions of the Freedmen’s Bureau as a blunt weapon of retaliation against the white South.

  French states loud and clear, “I am willing to serve both white and black according to the measure of ability. While the land is filled with mourning, you should be ashamed to cherish bitter or vindictive feelings, and instead extend to every man the cordial greeting of a brother.”

  But the grumbling just grows louder, and French seems deflated as he takes his seat and lets Bryant step to the podium. Bryant states with blinding clarity that the declared and fixed policy of the United States government is that slavery should cease. He refers to the order of General Gilmore as proof of it and insists that it is best for the planters at once to inform the negroes of their freedom. Bryant, however, does confess that the questions growing out of this change of relations are somewhat embarrassing because the government has not thoroughly shaped its policy with regard to the freedmen.

  He also suggests that fair contracts be made between the planters and their former slaves, and says that as an officer of the government, he will assist them in this work. He remarks further that while the government recognizes the freedom of blacks, and will protect them in an appropriate manner, it likewise regards them as minors who are in need of the government’s guardianship.

  The audience, far from appeased, continues to grumble.

  Hoping to connect with the crowd, Bryant then alludes to Georgia’s capability of becoming a great and powerful state under the new labor system. In particular, he expresses delight with her soothing climate and the sweet richness of her soil.

  At the close of these twin addresses, a number of prominent gentlemen signify to French and Bryant a desire to have the two visit various sections of the state and address the people on these subjects.