by Marian Wells
One noon as she went to pray, the street in front of Crystal began to fill with slaves. One by one they slipped out of houses, massed together, and rushed down the street. She followed, puzzled by the nearly frantic pace of the black people. As she rounded a corner, she saw the group disappearing behind the feed store. Close on the heels of the black people, Crystal slipped through the door in the rear of the building, and found there a sanctuary. A storeroom, festooned with empty grain sacks and perfumed with sawdust, had been transformed with a crude altar.
The group of people knelt around the altar, and Crystal knelt with them just inside the door. Then the prayers began.
“Lawd, be merciful to us; we are Your chillen, too. God grant us deliverance. We want Pharaoh to let us go. We want to go to Canaan land. Freedom! Father, bless Massa Lincoln with wisdom and powah. Bless General Grant and give him sticky feet that he’ll keep in the path of victory. Bless us, Lawd, with freedom!”
Forgetful of her own prayers, Crystal rocked back on her heels and watched the faces shining with tears and hope. With a lump in her throat and a new burden for the people, she rose and walked slowly back to the hotel.
****
The June sun blistered the people of Vicksburg. Food supplies, which had been severely rationed, continued to dwindle. The supply of beef was completely gone.
Crystal continued to live in the damaged hotel. Each day, before the shelling began, she walked the streets in the early morning coolness. One day she stepped outside the hotel to find people running through the streets. “Meat! Jacob’s market has meat. Hurry, it won’t last long!”
“What kind?”
“Most of it’s mule, but they say it’s good. I don’t know about the rest; they’re not saying. But when you’re starving, a little boiled with some greens is better’n nothing.”
As Crystal stood on the street, a woman stopped to talk. “You hear? A shell struck another house yesterday morning. They say someone was killed.”
“I’m so sorry,” Crystal said with dismay. “Maybe we’ll need to abandon these houses.”
“Go to the caves?” The woman asked, “Did you see the newspaper? The mayor is ordering the women and children into the caves that the men have been tunneling back in the hill. They say it’s the only place that’s safe during the day. Better come. We’ll play some games. Bring your knitting.”
Caves! Crystal shuddered. For several weeks the hillsides surrounding the city had been under excavation. Now tunnels honeycombed the hills, planned for use as shelters for the residents of Vicksburg. The following day she joined the other women as they carried food and chairs to the caves.
Despite the heat in the city, the tunnels were cool inside. Loose soil drifted down Crystal’s neck occasionally, but there didn’t seem to be any spiders. The shelling sounded distant.
Crystal read to the children while the other women talked and shoved listless needles in and out of the dark yarn.
One day as Crystal finished reading, one of the young mothers said, “If this fighting isn’t over soon, I’m going to sneak down the hill some dark night and pitch rocks through the windows of the Vicksburg Emporium.”
“Why, Nettie, what’s got into ya’ll?”
She peered through the dimness. “You haven’t heard? That shyster Martin and some of his slick friends have that big building chuck full of just about everything you can think of in the way of food stuffs—hams, canned goods, flour, you name it.”
A chorus of outraged cries arose. “That’s terrible!” “Why is he holding it back?” “The scoundrel; he deserves to be shot!”
“He’s going to wait until he can get the price he wants.” Nettie sneered. “Another week of this, and he thinks we’ll be selling our souls to him.”
From across the room came a weary answer. “I will; my babies cry with hunger pangs.”
****
Matthew saluted. “General Ord, I have a sealed communication for you.” The man looked surprised, accepted the paper, and slit it open. As he read, his face began to crinkle into a grin. “Well, Private Thomas, welcome to Grant’s army. You’ve come hastily, perilously, with a paper stating that your commanding officer requests you be allowed to fight with General Grant since your wife appears to be confined within the walls of Vicksburg. Good luck, Private Thomas; and if you don’t find her as soon as we enter Vicksburg, come to me and I’ll help.”
“That’s all?” Matthew laughed. “Guess I’m glad I didn’t have to defend that with my life! Thank you, sir, and I’m happy to hear that we’ll win.”
General Ord nodded toward the private standing in the doorway of the tent. “Private Webber, see that Thomas gets a uniform and a musket. Thomas, he’ll escort you to your post.”
****
Alex got to his feet and leaned against the side of the boat. “I recognize the scenery. Caleb, we’re getting close to Milliken’s Bend.”
“Remember that first trip we took?” Caleb asked. “It was right along here that we started having trouble with the monkey rudder again.”
“How could I forget?” Alex chuckled. “A boatload of slaves and the river patrol nosing around. But we did make it farther upstream before we had to call it quits.”
Colonel Woodrow came on deck. “Fellows, get your gear together. We’ve reached the end of our journey. A detail from the Iowa regiment will be here to escort you to the fort.”
“How far is it to Vicksburg?”
“A good mile over, then down a piece. Maybe three, maybe five, I don’t expect to see action from here.”
One of the black men pointed. “My pappy and his folks were from right over there. Louisiana. Still can’t hardly take it all in that we’re none of us slaves anymore. We can settle where we want. We can visit kin and never have to wear a tag that has a number telling where we belong.” He shook his head and went below.
Cecil’s bright teeth flashed. “It’s a good feeling. I might not ever live to enjoy it all, but my young’uns will. Freedom is worth dying for.”
The June sun burned down on the clearing at the edge of the Mississippi. The fort was an oven and the river a haven. Each midday the regiments took turns standing guard while the others bathed in the tepid, muddy waters.
Alex was on guard the afternoon the picket rode in. The man slipped from his horse, saluted Colonel Woodrow and said, “Spotted dust coming from up river. Rumor has it that Kirby Smith is heading this way with his guerrillas.”
The men in the water rushed out, dressed quickly, and headed for the fort. A fellow from the Iowa regiment fell in step with Alex. “Sure glad you lads brought us some more ammunition. And I’m sure glad we get to use it. Gets kinda boring with nothing to do but go swimming. See you later, bud.” He loped toward the batteries overlooking the Mississippi.
Alex filled his pockets with shot, caps, and gunpowder, then followed Caleb to the long line of trenches circling the fort. His eyes met Caleb’s. “Looks as if we’ll have a little diversion.”
“Alex, I’d rather toss stones in the river.” He hesitated. “You get an answer to your letter yet?”
“No. I’ve been to every mail call. Can’t believe that letter didn’t get there.”
“Here they come!” came the shout from the battlements. The dust nearly obscured the band of horsemen.
“Men, hold your fire until I give the order.” As Alex waited, he looked at the black men around him. They were tense and determined.
The cloud of dust divided, and the Rebel yell came from all directions at once. Alex felt the hair on his neck stiffen as he lifted his gun and sighted along the barrel. “Fire!”
The volley was returned and the Union line wavered. Men dropped around Alex, but Caleb was still there.
Abruptly the entrenched soldiers in the next section jumped to their feet and ran scared toward the river. For a moment Alex’s musket dipped as he watched the rout. Horsemen bore down on the men. He saw the line of fleeing soldiers fall. The gunboats opened fire.
&nbs
p; “Down!” Woodrow yelled. An explosion left a cloud of dust and smoke. Alex lifted his head and saw the gap in the Southern cavalry as Woodrow yelled, “Fire.” In another surge of cavalry, more men ran.
“Retreat!” Woodrow shouted. The men wavered, looking at each other and then at the horses charging.
“Run!” Alex yelled, shoving Caleb. He grabbed at Cecil, but the horsemen were on top of them. He lifted his rifle and dropped it.
Gray uniforms surrounded them, pressed closer. “No quarter,” called a sergeant as he took aim at the circle of black men.
“Stop!” Alex yelled, rushing at the man. “You have us; don’t shoot these men.”
“Men? Stand aside nigger lover.” The soldier raised his musket and pointed at Caleb. Alex threw himself at the horse and fell to the ground as the misdirected shot tore through him.
Caleb dropped to the ground beside him. “Alex are you hurt?” Alex turned, saw another gun pointed, and shouted, “No!” But his warning came too late.
Alex heard the gunfire and felt Caleb move. He tried to raise himself as Caleb’s blood spurted over them both. “Bertie!” Caleb called.
“Oh, God, help!” Caleb’s hands groped through the blood. A boot kicked him; he rose and then sank to his knees as he heard another shot. It was all over.
****
Moving numbly, as if in a fog, Alex responded to the jeers and the prodding gun as he walked into a nightmare of wounded men. Black, white, red. Over and over he looked at the men around him, hoping for a familiar face. Clutching the rag bound to his side, he staggered behind the horsemen.
Later, inside a nameless prison in a nameless place, he discovered that the black men were gone. He questioned the guard and received an answer. “Sold, of course; that’s where they belong, hoeing cotton.”
Sold? Caleb, thank God you’re out of this forever.
He examined his wound. A clean gunshot, a deep graze on his side. It would heal, but it was stiff and sore. Gradually the numbness began to clear from Alex’s mind. He thought about Caleb. “I guess I’m glad for your sake,” he murmured. “But, friend, I’m going to miss you.”
Chapter 40
When she reached Alexandria, Beth hired a hack to take her into Washington. At the outskirts of the city, she gave the driver directions to Cynthia’s house. Exhausted, she leaned against the side of the carriage and watched the soothing summer scenes of green pastures and serene flower gardens.
As she rested, she realized it was impossible to ignore the strange agony of the past two days. “One thing is certain,” she mumbled with a tired smile. “I’m a failure as a spy.”
“Ma’am, is it that house up ahead, the one with the fancy carriage?”
She looked, and her heart sank. Timothy Stollen was at Cynthia’s house. “On second thought,” she said quickly, “take me back to the Union hospital. I need to stop there first.”
He sighed, flicked the reins, and turned the corner. “Want I should wait?”
“No, it could be some time.”
He carried the valise inside, peered through the door at the line of beds, shuddered, and left. Beth waited until he clattered down the steps, then she faced the door into the hospital ward. A man dressed in white came through the door. He looked at her curiously. “Are you wanting to visit someone?”
“I’m looking for Olivia Duncan.”
“I’ll tell her. Please be seated.” She sat. Nervously twisting her hands, she tried to plan out her next step. I can’t see Timothy Stollen; he mustn’t know what I’ve done, that I’ve torn up his message. And now I have a new one to deliver.
Olivia came through the doors. “Beth! You look simply terrible! What has happened?”
“Olivia, I can’t go back. I’ve done something horrible. At least I think I have. I need to talk.”
Olivia hesitated a moment. “In about half an hour, I’ll be through for the day. Would you like to go to my room and wait?”
“Please.”
Forty minutes later Olivia entered her room to find Beth curled on the cot asleep. Slowly she sat down in the one chair. She looked at the tired lines on Beth’s face, waited, and finally dozed herself.
It was late afternoon when Beth stirred and opened her eyes. “Oh, I’ve been asleep for hours. I’m sorry. But I’ve scarcely slept for the past two nights.”
“Why?”
Beth hesitated. “I’ve got to tell you everything, it’s—I need help. Olivia, what shall I do?”
Olivia sighed and got to her feet. “I suggest that first we go down to the kitchen and find something to eat. Then I think we’d better have them move a cot in here. The rooms are all taken, but there are extra beds.”
A very subdued Beth said, “Thank you, Olivia.”
After they had eaten and the cot had been moved, Olivia met Beth’s eyes. “Want to talk or sleep?” They were facing each other across the cot as they spread sheets and a blanket.
“Talk.” Beth sat on the cot and tucked her feet under her. “I’ve really got myself in a fix now, and I don’t have any idea what I should do. Shall I start with what just happened, or tell you all about the past?”
“Maybe you’d better begin with the present trouble.”
“Have you guessed what I’ve been doing?”
“I didn’t try to guess; there’s too much to think about around here.”
“That one time I went into the hospital was terrible. I don’t know how you stand it. I wanted to run.”
“Sometimes I do, too.” Olivia looked into Beth’s eyes. “Beth, about all I can offer you is a listening ear.”
“And a bed and a place to hide.”
“Hide? I think you’d better explain.”
Picking at the lint on the blanket, she admitted, “I’d like to blame it all on Mike, but that’s only part of it. Cynthia is a spy, Olivia, or she was until she got too familiar.”
“What do you mean, familiar?”
“Tim said people were recognizing her. See, Tim says there are people in Richmond who are for the Union. Some of them watch Southerners when they think they’re passing information.”
“Beth,” Olivia cried, “are you telling me you’ve been passing information to the South?”
“Just twice. At first it sounded exciting, and I didn’t think of it as bad. Until two nights ago, that is.”
“And this Cynthia is responsible?”
“I suppose you’d say so. I should have refused in the beginning, but—” She winced. “By the time I had to pass a message, I began to realize it was serious.” Beth leaned toward Olivia. “Honest, after one time I didn’t want to go again, but I had to. Cynthia seemed to think she could get me out of it, but that Mr. Stollen has the most frightening eyes.” She paused, adding, “And he kissed me. That was terrible.”
“You’re very young,” Olivia murmured.
“I’m not; I’m old enough to know better. Olivia, I’m almost nineteen.”
“So what happened?”
“I had to go again. They said the message was important. It was a list of people who would be helping the Confederates after they cross the Potomac.”
Olivia sat up. “Potomac? Oh, dear, I think we’d better go see someone about this.”
“It isn’t necessary; Matthew has sent a message.”
Olivia crossed her arms and frowned. “What do you know about Matthew?”
“I met him at the junction—you know, just outside of Richmond where all the trains meet. That’s where people switch trains when they go from one line to another. He was traveling, but I can’t remember that he told me where.”
“What about a message?”
“He gave me a message to pass on to the War Department. Which I did, and they seemed interested, although I thought it was a strange message.”
“And you delivered the message Mr. Stollen gave you to carry?”
She shook her head. “Do you remember the pieces of paper with the Bible verses you wrote out for me?” Olivia raised her
eyebrows, and Beth said, “I had it with me. I took my Bible along. That afternoon while I had nothing to do, I started looking up verses. Would you believe, I forgot to keep my appointment with the man who was to get the message?”
“Oh, Beth, I’m afraid you aren’t much of a spy.”
“I figured that out for myself.” She smiled briefly. “Well, I was reading when he came. When I heard the knock, I just took the papers—the wrong papers—and shoved them into my Bible. When Mr. Swalling came, he was angry. He didn’t say much, just grabbed up your list and left.”
“The wrong paper,” Olivia said slowly. “I’m surprised he didn’t come back after the right one.”
“I am, too. I’ve tried to figure out why. Do you suppose he could have passed it on without looking at it more closely? But no,” Beth quickly corrected herself, “that couldn’t be, because when I got back, I took a hack to Cynthia’s house. I saw Mr. Stollen’s carriage in front; that’s why I had the driver bring me here. I have a strange feeling that Mr. Swalling has telegraphed for the real message.”
“Where is it?”
“I tore it up. But Mr. Swalling left a message for me to take back to Mr. Stollen.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Olivia, I don’t know. But suddenly all this seems wrong. That’s why I came here. I don’t want him to know I’m in the city. See, I wouldn’t be, if my first plans had worked out.”
“Where were you going?”
“To take the clothes back to Louisa.” Olivia looked confused, but Beth hastened on. “That’s part of the problem. Remember you talked about repentance and being condemned? I read the verses and started feeling so terrible that I decided I must give them back to Louisa. But the train tracks are destroyed and I couldn’t go into Tennessee.”
“What clothes are you talking about, and why?”
Beth’s face began to crumple. “Everything I have. Olivia, this is terribly hard to tell you. See, I’ve lied to every one of you since the beginning.” She dropped her face in her hands. “I’m not the daughter of a rich man. My dad is a poor farmer. I didn’t go to school. I never had a decent pair of shoes until Louisa gave me some of hers.”