Songs the Soldiers Sang

by Bette McNicholas

  “I hope they’re alive and unharmed,” she said with a sigh, and changed the subject. “Do you have any idea how many other island families returned?”

  “A few. Only those who had money t’ pay the taxes. The auction was sad. Ya know, Miss Laurel, a few o’ the homes were sold before the war was even over. No thought given t’ what was gonna happen when those families came back to find their homes occupied by strangers and they had no place to live.” Reba shook her head.

  “I’d like to know how these missionaries were able to afford to pay all of you?”

  “Well, lots of the folks that left before you, Miss Laurel, didn’t think to burn them crops. But when the slaves from the other islands arrived, the slaves from here helped them destroy all the cotton gins to celebrate their freedom.

  “Then the government took the cotton that wasn’t destroyed, as well as the tobacco, and appointed men to oversee the running of the plantations. Only they didn’t make as much money the first year cause the un-ginned stone-cotton didn’t bring in as much money as the cotton we burned in the warehouse that was ready to be shipped to England would have. The next year, afta they replaced the cotton gins, a lot of money was made cause people needed the cotton.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear any more, Reba. I’d like to be alone for a while. I’ll come back after I visit my mother’s grave.” Laurel reached out to take Reba’s hand.

  “Go on ahead an’ I’ll fix some tea an’ cakes like ya always enjoyed an’ I’m sure Paul’ll be back when ya return,” Reba replied, squeezing Laurel’s hand.

  As she walked toward the river, Laurel yanked on a piece of moss that swayed in the breeze. Like everything else, the plant was dry and rotten and fell apart in her hand. She touched trunks of trees that were familiar to her and turned around often, observing all of the changes in the once breathtaking landscape. Even the golden sand appeared black, as if its life’s blood had been scorched.

  She fought inwardly to dispel her melancholy. Standing by her mother’s grave, talking silently to her, she vowed to keep her promise to find her father and take care of him. She had memories of her mother’s smile and laughter, her touch, and most of all, her love. There was comfort knowing that deep down inside of her, a part of her mother would always remain. And although she missed her mother very much, she was glad her mother had been spared having to live through the war. She basked in the peacefulness of her surroundings and walked away with firm determination not to be defeated, her hands clenched into fists once again, inside her dress pockets.

  Laurel kept an eye on Reba as she approached the house and when she got within hearing range, stated, “I’m ready for the house tour now, Reba. I decided to take one last look and put all of this behind me.”

  Although Reba appeared to be near tears, she smiled and nodded her approval and followed Laurel as she strolled aimlessly through the mansion for a brief moment, then she left Laurel to return to fix refreshments.

  With the exception of the two rooms Reba and Paul were to occupy during the restoration, the mansion was empty. Laurel fingered a crack in the marble mantelpiece; ran her hand over the raised cherry wood paneling; and stared at the lackluster hardwood floors. Portions of the flooring had been smashed open by looters—no doubt searching for hidden valuables, and Laurel felt a stab as if she herself had been personally violated.

  She knew from newspaper accounts that Sherman had arrived when the island was first invaded, and he also stayed on the island after burning Atlanta. She felt sick at the thought of him and his men perhaps walking through her home. His men were relentless looters and were known for raping female slaves. Perhaps Mrs. Stroll had entertained some of these men in her parents’ home on St. Helena. She paled at the thought.

  She recalled every fine detail of the home that had once existed. The Ionic columns, dentil molding, wainscoting, the peaked roof that decorated the exterior of the mansion, to the inlaid rosewood and cherry paneling that enhanced the beauty of the interior with elaborately carved doorways. The spacious and airy rooms, satin draperies, plush Aubusson carpets, and Queen Anne furnishings. She remembered them and appreciated them but she vowed never to mourn them.

  She turned abruptly, finished at last, and started downstairs. “Goodbye old house. I’ll remember you in all your glorious splendor,” she whispered, then walked outside to join Reba for tea in the English garden. The bricks were covered over with weeds and moss, but the quiet setting was less distressful than sitting inside the empty house full of memories.

  Paul arrived to join them, not long after the Stroll’s had dismissed him for the day. He was a large man with black shiny skin and when he spotted Laurel, he lifted her off the ground and swung her in the air, like he did when she was a little girl, and made her giggle. He was happy to see her, too, and forgot all manners and the old boundary lines, but Laurel didn’t care. Paul was family.

  While they enjoyed their tea and cakes, Paul asked, “Miss Laurel, do ya think ya can remember how t’ come through the marshes to the old pond at the end o’ the estate?”

  “Gosh, I don’t know, Paul,” she answered hesitantly, “it’s been a long while since we used to go fishing. Why do you ask?”

  Laurel watched Paul and Reba exchange glances, and became curious when Reba nodded ever so slightly for him to continue.

  “There’s a rowboat behind the main cotton warehouse below the docks. I want ya t’ find your way to the pond and meet us tonight after dark. Everything’s very quiet after the nine o’clock curfew. We’ve somethin’ t’ give ya, Miss Laurel.”

  “What?” she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  “We can’t say,” Reba interrupted, “an’ if ya meet us later t’night, we’ll explain why. Trust us.”

  Laurel reached over and touched Reba’s hand. “I’ve always trusted you and, of course, I’ll come.”

  “You’d better bring Junie.”

  “That won’t be easy.”

  “We know, but even though it’s fairly safe here now, some o’ them soldiers might get the wrong idea if they see ya walkin’ out alone. They won’t attempt to harm ya if ya have an escort. Besides, you’re gonna need Junie’s help.”

  “Then I guess we’ll both come,” Laurel finished, shaking her head.

  She said her farewells and walked toward town without looking back at the mansion. She’d return later in the evening, but fortunately the house wouldn’t be visible in the dark.

  When she arrived back on the dock, she smiled wearily to see the Carolina Queen still tied to the pier, bobbing up and down, keeping time with the quakes in the river. As she climbed the plank, she looked up to find Old Junie waiting anxiously. With the exception of her mammy and a few men working, the boat appeared deserted, and she was thankful she didn’t have to spend time talking with Captain Crowley. The events of the day had been stressful and she was too emotionally drained to answer questions about her father.

  The plank squeaked noisily, and when she raised her right hand to wave to Junie, she lost her balance. She grasped the rope that served as a railing to save herself from falling into the river.

  “Oh, dese po’ eyes is happy to see ya,” Junie exclaimed, a broad smile on her face.

  Laurel took Junie’s outstretched hand for support, and asked, “Is everything all right, Junie?”

  “I spose, but I don’t like it much that yo’ is sharin’ a room with one o’ dem showgirl types. She got on at Hilton Head.”

  Laurel laughed, too exhausted to spend time explaining she’d be safe. “I’m going to go and lie down for a while, Junie. I’m too tired to tell you everything right now, but I want you to arrange for us to have supper below in my cabin. We have a lot of things to discuss,” she said, stifling a yawn. “We have to go somewhere around nine o’clock tonight.”

  Laurel hastily entered her cabin, locked the door behind her, and went straight to the bunk, falling onto the mattress face down. Her eyelids drooped, and she smiled faintly while she liste
ned to Junie outside her door yelling, “What do ya’ mean we have t’ go somewhere? Chile, yo’ hear me?” Her pleas went unanswered.

  Several hours later, the rocking of the ship and noise from the theater above caused Laurel to stir. She stretched lazily and tried to settle back to sleep—to recapture that cozy, warm feeling slumber had brought. Someone cleared their throat and caught Laurel’s attention. She turned over and opened her eyes. Junie sat at the table, her black face shining in the light of the lit kerosene lamp. Laurel sat up abruptly. “What time is it, Junie? Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “It’s after seven and yo’ was sleepin’ peaceful, I didn’t have the heart. You stay right dare and yo’ can eat in bed.”

  Laurel leaned back against the pillows and relaxed now that she knew she hadn’t overslept. She pulled the quilt tightly around her to keep warm.

  “Where’d the quilt come from, Junie?”

  “Dat girl whose room dis is. How yo’ think I gots in here after yo’ went an’ locked me out? She came in t’ get dressed t’ go t’ work—hmm, yo’ shoulda seen dat dress—an’ said she thought yo’ looked chilled an’ got dat out o’ her trunk.”

  Junie’s tone was a little haughty, but Laurel knew she had warmed slightly toward the girl because she showed Laurel special consideration.

  Junie brought her a plate of cold ham and some biscuits and poured her a cup of hot tea that she placed on a table beside the bed.

  “Yo’ feelin’ bettah?”

  “Yes, Junie, thank you. M-m-m, I’m starving and the food tastes wonderful, even though it’s cold.”

  “Now, chile, yo’ want t’ tell me what yo’ was talkin’ bout earlier—bout us goin’ somewhere t’night, cause I ain’t movin’ off dis boat?”

  Laurel looked at her mammy over the rim of her cup while she sipped her tea, and smiled with her eyes.

  “An’ doan go lookin’ at me like dat—I knows dat look.”

  “Well then why bother to argue?” Laurel laughed. “Besides, you wouldn’t want me to go out alone. Look, Junie, I know how you feel about not wanting to see Mossland again and I promise you won’t even have to see the town.”

  “Hmph, an’ how ya gonna do dat?”

  “We’re going to take a row boat...” Laurel said.

  Junie stood, knocking over her chair, “Oh chile, dis ol’ body ain’t gonna get in no little boat, no siree! Oncet was enough for me. Last time I was moe fraid of dem Yankees dan I was o’ fallin’ in that there swamp.”

  Laurel placed her dinner tray on the table and got out of bed. She picked up the fallen chair and placed an arm around Junie, helping her to her seat. “I’m sorry, honest. But Reba and Paul want us to meet them by the pond near the edge of the marsh. I don’t know why, Junie, only it must be important. We have to go.”

  Junie didn’t respond verbally but merely nodded her agreement.

  “Why don’t you drink some tea while I get changed and I’ll tell you everything that happened today.”

  Laurel dressed in warm clothes, all the time answering Junie’s questions. She wrapped a cape around the older woman’s shoulders, and said, “You’ve got to keep warm, Old Junie, it’s going to be chilly out on the river in this October air, and I don’t want you to get sick.”

  Junie tried to protest, but Laurel interrupted her. “I have this heavy shawl, Junie, and I’ll be all right. When I was a little girl you always got the last word, but I’m responsible for you now. You have to let me take care of you. Mama would’ve wanted it that way. Now, stay close behind me and be quiet. I don’t want anyone to see or hear us. Ready?”

  Laurel opened the door cautiously and peeked out into the dimly lit passageway. No one was about and she stepped out of the room pulling Junie behind her. As she approached the stairs, she heard people milling around on the above deck. She climbed up several steps and scanned the crowd. Everyone seemed engrossed in conversation. Good. She helped Junie up the stairs, took her by the elbow, and walked rapidly down the plank. When her feet touched the crunchy gravel, she raised her eyes to heaven and closed them in thanksgiving.

  “Where we goin’?” Junie asked in a loud whisper once they were away from the boat.

  “To the cotton warehouse. Here, here we are, Junie. Give me your hand and please be careful, the bank may be slippery.”

  The worn cotton of Laurel’s petticoat swayed around her legs and threatened to trip her as she tugged her legs free of the garment. She grinned and listened to Junie praying in rapid whispers.

  Laurel began her descent down the short embankment, holding Junie’s hand tight in a desperate attempt to keep her from losing her footing, and sighed deeply when they reached the narrow shoreline below the warehouse. The boat Paul spoke of was visible in the moonlight, and Laurel wrestled to keep Junie calm. She wasn’t confident she could save Junie from drowning if they capsized and that frightened her. Besides being cold, the water was dark and murky.

  After she had Junie settled, Laurel warned, “Now, whatever happens, don’t move from the center of the seat and don’t stand, no matter what. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understan’, but I doan like it.” She made the Sign of the Cross, and Laurel snickered because Junie wasn’t a Catholic, but she guessed she’d certainly spent enough time in church with the Bray’s to realize the gesture probably meant something important.

  Again, she patted Junie’s hand and gave her a bright smile. Junie had always professed belief in some spiritualistic religion, common among the island Negroes, and as far as she knew, she hadn’t converted.

  “I’ll take care of you, I promise. You’re being very brave and I’m grateful because I know how scared you are of the river.”

  Laurel dug the balls of her feet into the sandy beach and shoved the boat until the bow streamlined into the river, then hurriedly jumped into the boat, grabbed the oars, and started rowing at the same time.

  Along the way, intermittent clouds covered the moonlight sporadically, hindering her navigation. She feared losing her sense of direction but she was more afraid of mentioning that to Junie.

  Sweat coated Laurel’s palms and she dared not look at Junie. She didn’t need to see the fear on her mammy’s face to know it was a reflection of her own. Navigating the dark river, she slowed her rowing whenever the clouds moved over the moon, and increased her speed when there was moonlight to guide her.

  Biting her lower lip, she tried to remember the swerves and turns of the river. But too much time had passed since she had been fishing on these waters or gone and back and forth from Beaufort to St. Helena with Paul and her parents. The trees had grown taller and some had died and fallen into the shallow edges of the water, exposing the large diameter of their roots.

  The vegetation thrived in the humid climate until nothing seemed familiar. Mossland itself would have been easy to find during the day because the mansion sat back from the one deep bend in the river, but the marsh leading to the pond had a narrow entranceway.

  As they neared the marshes, gnats and mosquitoes began to attack them viciously. Junie fanned her hands in front of her face, swatting furiously at the insects, causing the boat to rock.

  Laurel was no longer certain bringing her along had been such a good idea, after all. But then she admitted that if she were alone, she would be trembling. She had to remain brave and the responsibility of taking care of Junie helped her to maintain control.

  Moving slowly under an arbor of twisting tree limbs and hanging vines, Laurel mistakenly gazed upward into the darkness. Streaks of moonlight barely peeked through a few openings and each vine took on the appearance of a snake. Thoughts of creepy reptiles made her shudder, especially at the thought of encountering a copperhead.

  As the cooler night air reached the water, a low-lying fog formed and drifted upward. Weird sounds from deep within the marshes echoed loudly in the jungle-like setting. Repeating, “bats and locusts,” under her breath, was her ineffectual attempt to allay her fears mentioning the only two c
reatures that didn’t frighten her, along with frogs, rabbits, and dogs and cats, of course.

  Using every muscle in her arms with greater effort, she finally maneuvered the boat between the one marsh that she believed might lead her to where they were to meet Reba and Paul. Suddenly, some unknown force yanked one of the oars deeper into the muddy water threatening to pull her into the abyss.

  She jerked on the oar until she loosened the handle from the oarlock and watched in horror as the splintered wood surfaced above the water with a huge snake slithering toward her. Without hesitating, she dropped both the oar and the snake into the swampy water.

  “What was dat, chile?”

  “Nothing, Junie. I lost one of the oars, but I can manage with one.”

  Laurel dragged the remaining oar in the water and slowed the boat. She recalled all the many times, as a child, she used to leap along logs and hop across stones going from one little parcel of land to another. During some of the tireless games of hide and seek with Paul, she’d sneak in the swamp and hide behind a tree. Paul warned her over and over again that the place was dangerous but she never once gave a thought to the animals that inhabited the marshes. Except as a child she never had cause to fear anything. Not until the war...

  “Laurel, child, what’s wrong? Youse lost?”

  “No, Junie. I’m simply not quite sure if this is where I’m supposed to turn. The night we escaped through the marshes, I was too frightened to notice.”

  “What we gonna do? Maybe you should turn ‘round.”

  Before Laurel could answer, a flash of light appeared through the foliage and moved toward the shoreline, and for the first time since she started out, Laurel let out a sigh of relief. Her arms ached, but with renewed hope and effort, she turned the boat and steered toward the light.

  Reba swung a lantern and waited for them to approach and then Paul pulled the boat onto the shoreline. Junie was helped out first, and Laurel waited while she greeted her old friends with embraces and tears. Paul extended his hand and helped her onto the property. Her eyes filled with threatening tears as she watched her old friends being reunited.