Mathew
“That’s a nice letter, that’s a real nice letter,” Callie told him. “It sounds like they are not far away from you at all and you are just talking to them.”
“That’s exactly what letter writing is like,” he chuckled. “And that’s a good way to think about it.”
Callie liked hearing Lieutenant Jessup’s letter to his family. Mostly she liked the nice things he said about Papa and what Papa did for him. She was happy Papa had a friend in him.
“My home state of Vermont is right next to Massachusetts, the next state north.”
“Next door, that sounds like neighbors,” Callie teased.
“Vermont is a beautiful place. I hope you’ll get some free time from your schooling to travel there,” he said. “Do you worry much about being away from your family?”
Callie hesitated at first. “Yes,” she said. “A little.” She sighed. “I admit I feel a little queasy about it. If I think about it for too long, my head starts to spin.”
“That’s normal and natural, Callie. But, well, think of it like this: You will meet new people. If I had not left Vermont, I would never have known your papa. And that reminds me, you will not be so alone. You know of someone in the Jessup family who lives in Vermont.”
“Thinking of it that way,” Callie said, “I guess that makes it a little better.” She smiled.
During the first week of August 1861, so that the city of Hampton, Virginia, would not fall into the hands of the enemy, the rebels burned their homes and the town in its entirety to the ground. Few buildings remained standing. Hampton, Virginia, was left a city of charred remains.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chloe
August 8, 1861
Another new student entered the school. She was part of a family of five. They had arrived only two days ago from the city of Hampton, Virginia.
When Callie got to school that morning, Mrs. Peake was speaking with the girl and her mother. She heard Mrs. Peake say she agreed with her mother that the schooling would do her daughter very well.
The girl seemed very shy. She was ten years old, but her mother said she was small for her age. Callie smiled at her but she would not meet anyone’s gaze. She kept her eyes cast downward and looked at her hands.
As the other children entered the room, the girl kept moving farther and farther away from them and to the seats that were closer to the door.
As Mrs. Peake started the class, she took the girl’s hand and helped her find a seat.
“Today,” she said, “Callie will do the Scripture reading.” She turned the pages to the Bible verse she wanted her to read.
Callie held the book open. She cleared her throat and began to read, listening to the words as her voice filled the room.
“That was very good, Callie,” she said.
She placed the Bible back on her table. Callie went to her seat. Then Mrs. Peake turned to the class.
“What do you think the words mean?” she asked the children. “What wisdom will you take away from the Scripture reading this morning?”
Discussion began at once. Everyone who wanted to speak was given a chance. Mrs. Peake encouraged some of the others to say a few words.
When everyone who wanted to speak had a chance, Mrs. Peake looked at the timid girl.
“Now, children, we have a new student today. I want you all to meet Chloe,” Mrs. Peake said, and everyone turned their attention to her.
“Good morning, Chloe,” they all said in a practiced unison.
“Now, Chloe, what would you like to tell us about yourself ?” Mrs. Peake asked. And then she sat down and waited for the girl to stand.
Chloe did not say anything at first. She looked around at each of the children. And then she stood and began her story.
“I do not remember much to say,” she began, and trailed off. Mrs. Peake nodded her head and smiled at Chloe. She began again.
“Lucy Union is not my mother,” she said, speaking directly to Mrs. Peake. “But I will call her Mother as her other daughters do. They will attend the afternoon class for the older students. My mother died two days ago in the army hospital,” she said, pointing in the general direction of the hospital building. Callie looked to where she pointed. She knew the building very well.
“My mother and I left our plantation farm on our own. But she was very sick when we left. None of the others came with us from the old place,” she said, and paused.
“We walked and walked. One day my mother said she was too sick and could not go any farther. She fell down to the ground.
“I would not leave her alone.
“Then a woman and man and their family of girls passed us on the road. The woman told us her name was Lucy Union and her husband’s name was Clarke Union. The father lifted my mother and put her on our cart. They brought us to this place with them. Then they brought my mother to the hospital.
“When Lucy Union came back to the hospital to find out about us, they told her that my mother died. She asked the hospital people if she could adopt me. I don’t know what they said to her, but I am grateful to be here in this place,” Chloe said, and then she looked down again at her hands, which were folded in her lap.
Chloe finally looked up and fixed her gaze on Mrs. Peake. Tears were flowing out of Chloe’s eyes. And then, one by one, each student went up to Chloe and hugged her. Mrs. Peake did as well before the day’s lesson would go on any further.
After class was over Callie went up to the new girl and shook her hand.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Callie said. She did not know Mrs. Peake was watching them from her desk, very pleased with what was going on.
“I am the teacher’s assistant. I will be happy to help you practice your lessons and Scripture reading. I am glad you are here.”
Chloe smiled and gave Callie a hug. It was the same kind of hug she remembered Suse had given her.
The crowding situation at Fortress Monroe forced many contraband to set up their families in large tent cities outside of the walls of the fort and in what remained of Hampton, Virginia. The conditions were cramped and worse than what some suffered inside the fort. Some former slaves who could write would even appeal to their former masters to allow them to return to their previous homes.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Farewell
August 10, 1861
Mrs. Peake asked the scholars to return to the adult evening school with their parents. That night the room was filled to the rafters.
“I know you will all have questions,” she said. “But please hear me out. I will tell you everything.”
Then she explained what most of the parents already knew. The fort could no longer hold them. And because of the overcrowding, it was necessary to move the school outside of the fort too.
“Our schoolroom door will not close!” she said firmly. “We will open many other schools for our children to attend. I have been in contact with the Missionary Society in Washington, DC. They will be sending more teachers Monday.”
Some parents clapped at hearing this news. Many more had questions for Mrs. Peake to answer.
“Before we end tonight, I will tell you what the children and I have planned. We will put on a pageant for the officers and soldiers as a way of saying thank you for their help. The children will sing, read verses from the Bible, and recite from memory.”
The parents were very pleased with Mrs. Peake’s idea.
• • •
When Callie and her family got back to their barracks, Papa wasn’t ready to go inside just yet. It wasn’t very dark.
“Let’s sit on the porch for a while.” The early August wind was warm and breezy. Callie thought it was nice to sit on the porch with Mama and Papa. Papa was staring out at the night like he was looking for something to say while Mama worked on stitching buttons on a dress. Then Chloe and her new mother walked past.
“I came to see you, Callie,” Chloe said. “I came to say good-bye, because you�
��re leaving tomorrow and I’m feeling a little low.”
“Why?” Callie ask her.
“My best friend is going away and I don’t know when I will see her again.”
“I’ll write letters to you if you write back,” Callie said with a smile.
“I never had a reason to write a letter before, but I promise to learn how and I will,” Chloe replied, giggling.
Chloe was looking at what Mama Ruth was sewing. Her eyes grew big.
“Are you going to wear that dress in school?” Chloe pointed. “It sure is fancy for a school dress,” she added.
“Which one?” Callie asked.
“That green one,” Chloe said.
It was Suse’s old party dress.
“Look,” Mama Ruth said, holding up the dress in front of her. “I did some finishing things to this one, too. It looks good as new, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does,” Mrs. Union said, smiling.
“It’s beautiful,” Chloe said.
“Do you like it that much?” Callie asked.
“Oh, yes indeed. I could never dream of wearing something so fancy and beautiful,” Chloe said.
“Why don’t you wear it now?” Callie said, looking at Mama.
“Oh, may I?” Chloe asked Mama, and then she looked at Mrs. Union, who nodded.
Chloe put on the dress on top of the one she was wearing. She came into the center of the porch and, under the bright moonlight, twirled all around in front of them. The skirt spread out into a beautiful green circle. It was as if Callie had never noticed before, or maybe she thought she didn’t want to notice it, but it was a beautiful dress.
As Callie remembered, Suse did love wearing that dress and brushing her hands past the skirt of it as she was walking. It made a swishing sound.
“Now I will just need to tuck it in here and over here for you,” Mama said to Chloe as she pinched together each side of the dress around the neck. “Then it will fit you perfectly.” Mama smiled.
“It seems like it was made for you,” Callie said, smiling to her new friend.
The dress seemed to make her so happy.
“I plan to become a teacher one day,” Callie announced. “And though it is not a written rule, many teachers wear calico. I am more of a Calico Girl myself,” she said, smiling to Mama and giving her the best hug. Mama hugged her back and laughed.
“You stand here a minute,” Mama told Chloe. “Let me size the dress for you.” She placed a pin here and there and then helped Chloe step out of the dress.
“We’d better be heading home,” Mrs. Union said. Callie waved good-bye to Chloe and her mother.
• • •
Now night was coming on. The moon looked wide and awake. Callie could tell Papa had something important he needed to say. She was glad Papa wanted to talk because she was feeling happy, but she was also feeling a little uneasy. She wanted to hear what Papa wanted to say. He had been quiet for most of the night.
“The word ‘bittersweet’ describes how I feel,” he said in a funny kind of voice that sounded like it was hard for him to get his words out right. Mama put down her sewing.
“There are some things I’m happy about and at the same time, those same things make me feel kind of sad,” he said, looking at Mama. “It’s what you call bittersweet.”
Callie knew what Papa meant.
Then Papa turned and looked at her.
“Most of all, tonight I feel a bittersweetness about our Calico Girl here,” he said, putting his arm around Callie.
“I spoke with Mrs. Fowle, and she tells me you will have to write a letter home at least once a week,” Mama said, smiling.
“That’ll be good,” said Papa. “I’ll be happy to hear about how you’re getting along.”
“Yes, Papa,” Callie said. “I will. And you’ll write back?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Mama answered, laughing.
“When you come home, we’ll have to call you Calico Teacher!”
“Calico Teacher,” Mama repeated. “That sounds pretty good to me!” And they all laughed. But Mama laughed hardest.
Then they all got quiet again as if the wind blew away all of the words they each wanted to say.
“I suppose we ought to go to bed soon,” Papa said. “The morning is going to be a busy one, and it will come soon enough. Mrs. Fowle will be taking you on your big trip.”
“I know,” Callie said. “And everything will be all right,” she told him, taking hold of his hand.
“Even though I will be busy learning I will not let myself feel how far away I am from my family. And if I do, I will remember what you told me. I could never be lost from you or Mama. When I look up and see my stars in the Big Dipper, I can never be lost. I will remember that the North and the South are under the same stars where my freedom lies. My freedom is in my stars.”
AFTERWORD
While this book is a work of fiction, it was inspired by people who lived and had an active role in these true historical incidents. One such person is Mary S. Peake. Though Peake lived and taught in the city of Hampton, Virginia, during the time that my novel takes place, I have borrowed from her life and likeness to place her in her position at Fort Monroe at the time of my novel.
Peake was known to be a thoughtful person of a calm and even temper. She acquired a good English education. All during her life she had been fearlessly engaged in secretly instructing both children and adults in her home, which at the time was in violation of her state’s slave law. Peake showed great strength and fortitude and she worked tirelessly. She had strong religious convictions.
Reverend Lewis Lockwood of the American Missionary Association was sent to Hampton, Virginia, in its first missionary endeavor of the war. A teacher was needed to educate the new freedmen and their children who were now under the protection of Fortress Monroe.
Peake was trained as a teacher. This request allowed her to teach freely with permission sanctioned by the United States government. It was a day and a time she had prayed for for many years.
The AMA hired Mary as the first teacher for the freedmen at Fort Monroe, but unlike this novel, Mary never taught on the grounds of the fort. She taught in the open air under an oak tree in the city of Hampton. Also, she did not hold her first class until September 17, 1861, and for the purposes of this story, I have her teaching in July. She saw the children as very eager learners, as were their parents.
When the school opened, she counted six children the first day. But by the end of the week, the number doubled to twelve. Some accounts say she taught as many as fifty children during the day, and twenty adults in the evening.
Peake’s mission as a teacher was to educate for the times in which her pupils lived and for the future. She wrote in her journal, “We want to get wisdom. That is all we need. Let us get that, and we are made for time and eternity.” She used her knowledge to find ways to waken the developing minds and hearts in her students.
Peake probably taught a total of three months. She died on February 22, 1862, of complications from tuberculosis. Her tombstone reads: Mary S. Peake: The First Teacher of the Freedmen at Fortress Monroe, Virginia.
INTERNET RESOURCES
African American Odyssey. Abolition, Anti-Slavery Movements, and the Rise of the Sectional Controversy, “Fugitive Slave Law.” N.p. n.d. Accessed November 25, 2015. https://memory.loc.gov/ammem/aaohtml/exhibit/aopart3b.html.
“American Experience: Reconstruction: The Second Civil War: Access to Learning.” Accessed November 25, 2014. http://www.pbs.org/wbgh/amex/reconstruction/schools/sf_postwar.html.
“Civil War Timeline: Gettysburg National Military Park” (US National Park Service). Accessed May 25, 2016. https://www.nps.gov/gett/learn/historyculture/civil-war-timeline.htm.
http://www.virginiaplaces.org/military/fortmonroe.html.
http://www.dailypress.com/news/hampton/hampton400/dp-hampton400-archive-civil-war-fire-story.html.
“The Contraband at Fortress Monroe.” New York Times, July
20, 1861. Accessed October 28, 2014. http://usslave.blogspot.com/2011/03/contraband-at-fortress-monroe.html?m=1.
“Fort Monroe Military Base.” Accessed November 27, 2015. http://www.virginiaplaces.org/military/fortmonroe.html.
Lockwood, Lewis C. Mary S. Peake: The Colored Teacher at Fortress Monroe, http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20744?msg= welcome_stranger.
“The Slave Question: Letter from Major-General Butler on the Treatment of Slaves,” New York Times, July 30, 1861, http://www.nytimes.com/1861/08/06/news/slave-question-letter-major-gen-butler-treatment-fugitive-slaves.html.
“The Opening of the War,” New York Times, April 22, 1861, http://www.nytimes.com/1861/04/22/news/the-opening-of-the-war.html.
“Tombstone of Mary S. Peake.” The American Missionary Association Photographs, 1839–1954. Tulane University Digital Library, New Orleans, Louisiana. Accessed July 3, 2016. https://digitallibrary.tulane.edu/islandora/object/tulane%3A544.
Field Experience
Visit to Fort Monroe Casement Museum, May 2015. http://www.fmauthority.com/visit/casemate-museum/
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Support is something none of us can do without. I must acknowledge the following people who sustained me through this new and exciting process. First, I’d like to thank Mary S. Peake, whose unwavering spirit and tireless devotion to educating “her people” inspired me to follow the truth of this little-known incident in history and to tell this story. Being a teacher myself, I felt a kindred spirit with her. I hope she would be proud to read these pages and what I have written here. Also, a sincere thank-you to Adam Goodheart, whose article, “How Slavery Really Ended in America,” appeared in the New York Times Magazine, April 3, 2011, and is the genesis of this book. I would also like to thank Fortress Monroe Casemate Museum for making me feel welcome at this historic site as I did my research. A heartfelt and a hearty thank-you to Paula Wiseman, wise woman and editor extraordinaire, for your faith in me; to Nancy Gallt, my literary agent, who has been a solid anchor and cheerleader for me; and to my loving and dear friends, whom I confided in for this project: Claudette Giles, for your long hours and tireless devotion; Darwin Walton, who enlivened my spirit and my heart; Kathryn Sapoznick, whose sharp and witty intellect kept me ever moving toward my goal, and Bonnie Guerra, whose clear and honest thinking and encouragement I could not do without. Thanks also to Margaret Hutson, for letting me borrow that wonderful little cabin by the river; Eloise Greenfield, for her light and her laughter; Lisa Vitali, who really is not only a crackerjack English teacher but also a total rock star; Marcy Emberger, a dear friend and writing educator; to my wonderful and loving son, Matthew Harold, who is consistent in his confidence and support of me, reminding me to remember my truth; and to my dear and loving daughter, Jessica Harold, whose valuable insights, comments, and crisp thinking keep me grounded but ever reaching for the stars.
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