by Jerri Hines
She had found little comfort in the quiet of her room. The small, quaint four walls at least kept her safe from the other prisoners. Superintendent Wood had allowed a brief note from Lieutenant McFadden stating Madeline was well. Her fever had broken. The children would be in Philadelphia before Christmas.
Christmas! Jo had forgotten about the holiday completely. It mattered little. She took heart that her children were safe for the time being.
Her cell held a tiny window. If she pushed the stool across the room, she could look out. It overlooked A Street and a view of the people of Washington, including the vulgar Yankee troops that moved back and forth along through the road. They had caught sight of her. Their behavior left her no choice but to withdraw from the window and its view.
Jo waited with trepidation, not knowing what awaited her. She told herself that her nightmare would soon end. She had done nothing, but her confidence faded the moment the knock came to signal the time had come. The thick door opened to expose the soldiers sent to escort her for her trial.
In silence, she was transported by carriage to a military building two blocks over. She made no protest but followed the guards to a small room. In front of her there was one large desk that faced two smaller ones. She was guided to the desk on the left. To her surprise, an officer sat at the table. Immediately, he rose at her appearance.
A man of average height, he straightened his uniform jacket while he pulled back a chair for her. He had fair hair and a pleasant smile, but his eyes were marred by dark circles. “I’m Lieutenant Joel Boyd. I will be serving as your lawyer at these proceedings.” He grimaced. “What have they done to you?” He reached for her.
She recoiled slightly. A sudden desire to weep encompassed her but Jo held her emotions.
He took her elbow. “Don’t be afraid of me, Mrs. Montgomery. I’m here to help you. My anger is not directed at you, but anyone who would treat a lady in this manner. I need to know exactly what has happened. Obviously, you have been beaten.”
Jo lowered her eyes. She wanted nothing from this man or anyone in a navy uniform. She didn’t answer his question. She asked only, “My children?”
“Lieutenant Hugh McFadden informed me they are quite happy and have been transported to Philadelphia to be cared for by your family there. You have no worries concerning them, but I am certain they miss their mother. Lieutenant McFadden will be in attendance this afternoon, which, in my opinion, will not take long.”
“They will let me go.” Jo’s voice faltered, hoping against all hope.
“That is my belief.” He tilted his head to the side to get a better look at her face. “Do you have any idea of the charges against you or what you face?”
She shook her head. She eased down into the chair as she gripped tightly to the table’s edge. “I only know I was forcibly taken from my home.”
“I have been told you are being charged with aiding and abetment of the South,” he said simply.
Confused, she asked, “Spying?”
“We will see what is their stance soon enough.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder. Under his breath, Jo heard, “How the hell did Malcolm get in here?”
Jo turned and saw a man with a pad and pen in hand. The press was covering her proceedings? She looked back at Lieutenant Boyd.
In a moment of perplexity and confusion, she watched Lieutenant McFadden enter and take a seat behind her. She turned her gaze from him as a highly decorated officer entered from another door, followed by two other officers. He sat behind the large desk in front of her.
“General Gideon Benson,” Lieutenant Boyd whispered. “He is in charge of the hearing.”
General Benson quickly dismissed the reporter. “You will not come snooping into my hearing.”
The dismissal did little to alleviate a new fear Jo developed—that her name would be plastered on the headlines to further humiliate and disgrace her and the name she carried.
General Benson was an older gentleman with a head full of white hair. His hands, wrinkled and dried from the days that had come before, held papers that he read over quickly. He grimaced. “So, Lieutenant Boyd what do we have here?”
Jo’s shoulders straightened and her head tilted higher. She would hold to her dignity, if nothing else.
Lieutenant Boyd stood, taking an aggressive stance. “It is quite provoking to have one treated in the manner Mrs. Montgomery has obviously been treated. Taken from her home and her children. To what end does all this serve? She has done nothing wrong and we have treated her appallingly. To imprison a female in this manner is abominable.”
“Lieutenant, sit down. I will say what is proper,” General Benson exclaimed. He turned his attention to the one across the aisle from her, the prosecutor, a pompous arrogant sort. “Captain Johnson, you and I both know that she is not a spy. That charge is dropped.”
Captain Johnson stood. Not exceedingly good-looking, he was middle-aged with a pot belly and long pointed nose. Jo could feel his eyes burn into her. Then, the craven-hearted heathen pointed to her. “Do not be fooled by her appearance. The only defense she has is the sympathy card. Secretary Stanton himself has expressed concern about the situation in a letter you hold. According to the war act, we can hold her indefinitely because it is vital we do so for the betterment of the Union.”
Jo felt rage swell within her. Did he not realize that at any time over the last few days she could have given the information to numerous Confederate officers? She had more access to them in prison than she would ever on the street.
No matter whether they prided themselves that the rules were adhered to within the prison walls, the simple truth was that information passed freely. She had already been asked numerous times why she was confined. She had, as she had with the Union, given no answer. She had not even told them her name.
From the moment Andrew had sent her with McFadden, the life she had known was over. The quandary of the situation lay with the fact that if the information became common knowledge, she understood the consequences.
Jo was certain that Andrew would be executed if he wasn’t able to escape, but it wouldn’t only affect him, but the entire family, everyone…Jenna, Derek, Anna, Charlotte, and Mother Montgomery…even Grace Ann.
The shame and dishonor would lie on the heads of all of them. The most important truth— Wade would have died in vain. Above all else, she could never allow anything to take away from his sacrifice.
Magnolia Bluff would be no more. Pillaged and burned to the ground would be its fate. No, Cullen had put in place a well-covered operation to help the Yankee cause and now she would pay the price.
Arguing and bickering ensued between the lawyers. Jo’s head hurt as she tried to follow the conversations. She wondered whether her reputation would be in shreds even if she walked out the door free of all charges. On one side, her family and the entire city of Charleston would know she had knowledge beneficial to the South and withheld it. On the other, the Yankees seemed intent to use her to advance their careers and enact revenge. She had been reduced to being used as a pawn.
“Mrs. Montgomery? Mrs. Montgomery?” General Benson called to her. “Lieutenant, see to the defendant.”
Jo felt Lieutenant Boyd’s hand on her shoulder. She jerked away and cried, “I hear you clearly.”
“Good, for I want you to understand fully what lies in front of you,” General Benson stated plainly. “I find the whole of this situation despicable.” His eyes lay upon the captain. “I wish I had within me the power to throw you within a prison cell, Captain Johnson. To think we have been reduced to that, to imprison a lady without just cause!”
“Sir, there is cause. She has knowledge that…”
“I know why we are here, Captain Johnson. I’m also aware she has done nothing to cause herself to endure this fate. I question what this war has done to us all.”
Jo’s heart leaped with hope. Was he going to let her go?
“Stand up, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Slowly, Jo eased upward, with Lieutenant Boyd standing beside her.
General Benson began, “I find this situation a trying one. Any other time, I would happily dismiss it, but it’s not within my power. I’m afraid my hands are tied. Captain Johnson is correct that they can hold you indefinitely given the state of war we are now in. Unfortunately, due to the sensitive nature of your knowledge, I see no other recourse but to sentence you back to your holding cell until it is deemed safe to let you go.”
“General Benson, I protest!”
“Sit down, Lieutenant Boyd!” General Benson demanded. “Mrs. Montgomery, you are to be held in your cell, but with the stipulation that your comforts will be seen to. You will be able to write to any you choose, knowing your letters will be read before they are sent. I can also assure you that whoever is responsible for your injuries will be dealt with properly. Where are her children?”
“They are being well cared for by family in Philadelphia.”
Jo heard nothing else. She didn’t even look toward Lieutenant McFadden as she was led away.
Back within the confines of her cell, the conditions improved. She was given books and embroidering to pass the time; paper and pen to write letters. Jo took comfort with the weekly letter from Cullen’s father, who wrote about the children.
She sat alone in her cell. She hurt, so terribly, and was so utterly alone…so alone.
Chapter Eight
August, 1864
Mobile Bay
“Captain! It’s going right at the Hartford!”
Turning quickly, Cullen surmised the signal quartermaster’s assessment was correct. Through the thick, acrid smoke, the dreaded ironclad ram, the CSS Tennessee, emerged. The determined Southern vessel was surviving the constant duress on its assault toward the Union flagship, flying the Rear Admiral Farragut’s blue pennant.
On the deck of the USS Itasca, the fighting sailors ran furiously to load and reload the guns. Their efforts were made harder from the barrage of fire from the forts and enemy ships. Clanks of the slings and relieving tackles resounded on the deck. The smoke was so dense, visibility was only a matter of yards. Nevertheless, the shadow of the CSS Tennessee loomed closer.
The Union fleet had taken a beating. Already Cullen had witnessed the unbelievable sight of the sinking of the USS Tecumseh. It had crashed into one of the dreaded torpedoes planted in the harbor while chasing after the formidable CSS Tennessee. After the explosion, confusion followed. The crew watched the inconceivable—the USS Tecumseh standing on her bow straight down in the water. Less than a minute after her stern raised high in the air, she disappeared into the sea. For a moment, all eyes gazed on the sight, knowing they, too, could share a similar fate.
Rear Admiral Farragut gave no one a chance to contemplate the loss. He swept the USS Hartford through the waters, right into the Bay. Taking the lead, the commander’s call rang out: “Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead!”
Cullen swore under his breath, knowing the waters were filled with torpedoes. Holding to the faith he held in Farragut, Cullen directed his ship to follow. With a glance over his shoulder, he saw that none of the fleet had faltered…staying the course. Through the barrage of shelling, smoke, and haze, he caught sight of the flag that flew above him, waving proudly…standing firm.
Suddenly, the question of why he had chosen the path he had…holding to the Union…was answered as he watched the stars and stripes flying. There was power in the red, white, and blue. He felt it radiate through him. He fought for the country he loved. His heart filled with faith in his cause and that his purpose was just.
Through the chaos and confusion, the CSS Tennessee reached the USS Hartford. Cullen screamed orders. Water sprayed over him from the constant bombardment. A pulley broke off and swung down. Cullen barely ducked in time.
“Straight ahead, Mr. Decker.”
“Aye, sir!”
Cullen pushed his vessel alongside the CSS Tennessee’s stern. “Fire in succession and fire low!”
The eleven-inch guns were no more than ten to fifty yards from their objective. Alongside the USS Chickasaw, the guns fired again and again. Smoke rose from the battle explosions of dozens of cannons firing rapidly with devastating accuracy.
Through the smoke, a white flag emerged over the once mighty CSS Tennessee. Her stack was completely shot off; the steering chains destroyed. The battle was over in Mobile Bay.
* * * *
Captain Cullen Smythe stood on the main deck. The ship would dock soon enough. He would be in Washington before nightfall. Exhausted, he drank in the salt air. This he would miss—the feel of the sea beneath him. His three-month leave would begin the moment he set foot on dry land, but his intention to resign had already been made.
He had done his service to the country. He had a medal of honor to prove it for his part in the Battle of New Orleans. Moreover, Rear Admiral D.G. Farragut had given his blessing before Cullen’s departure.
“Go home. We have done all we can do now. You have served with distinction,” Farragut dismissed him.
Under Farragut’s command, Cullen had served with the Western Blockade. Two long, hard years, but they had been successful. First with the blockade of New Orleans, then Vicksburg, and now with the victory at Mobile. The South could not stand much longer.
Over the course of the war, he had seen changes in the navy. Although the Confederates would go down in defeat—of that Cullen was certain—their ideas, engineering of their ships would be duplicated with the Union fleet. Gone were the days of the glory of the wooden ships. Ironclads had shown their military value.
Mobile Bay had long been in Farragut’s sight and with the appointment of Ulysses S. Grant as Supreme Army commander, Farragut got his wish. Grant prepared to take the heart out of the South. Already, Sherman began his march toward Atlanta.
Cullen had served as a man possessed. Farragut had respected Cullen’s fearless approach, courage, and bravery. Cullen’s commander hadn’t cared why…why Cullen had thrown caution to the wind or that Cullen fought like he had nothing to lose.
No one knew Cullen had tried desperately to get Josephine out of his head…and his heart. Over time, his heart had hardened; he hated Josephine as intensely as he once loved her. She had kept his son from him, denied him his right to claim him openly…and refused to leave Wade for him.
For the last eight months, Cullen had known Percival was safe with his grandfather. It had relieved his mind, especially now that the South was feeling the wrath of the Union. Less than a month had passed since he had gotten word of all that had transpired at Jo’s trial. He hadn’t gone into much detail with Farragut, but he had told him he needed to return to deal with a family issue.
On the last day of August, 1864, Cullen’s eyes soaked in the sight before him— Washington. He had only a few issues to take care of at the state department and then he was headed to Philadelphia, his attention solely on his son.
* * * *
“What has happened to you, Cullen?”
Cullen shrugged as he poured himself a drink. “Would you like another? I find that I might indulge this evening. Tomorrow I go and see my son.”
Hugh had met him down at the docks. In high spirits, Hugh had immediately taken Cullen to his quarters in Washington at a boarding house. He had been lucky to find an apartment with the shortage of housing in the city.
“You heartless son of a bitch! I have waited quite impatiently for your return. I have done everything you requested and now you are going to walk away from her. Have you any idea…?” Hugh struggled to find his words.
Cullen had never seen Hugh so angry, but it mattered little to him. He gulped down his whiskey and poured another. “I have an idea that my son had been kept from me. She can rot in prison for all I care.”
Shocked, Hugh’s hands closed on the chair in front of him and thrust it to the side. He fumed. “You put her there!”
“If she wants to become a martyr, it is not my problem. I’m sure there is
a place in Heaven for her. Some women are callous, cold-blooded creatures. Those you know how to deal with. It is the ones such as Josephine that you have to be leery of…she holds to her goodness and honor. She reels you into her web. She is the worst kind of woman.”
Color rushed to Hugh’s face. “You can stand there with a clear conscience…you who put her in this position to begin with! I took her to protect your damn scheme! To protect your home from destruction! To protect your family in the South. What if she talks? All will be for nothing!”
Cullen laughed. “If she was going to say a word, it would have already been plastered in every Southern paper. I know her. She won’t say a damn word to protect the same home and same family honor. She doesn’t want anyone to think she would betray the South. All is for her own gain, I assure you.”
“Oh, yes,” Hugh sarcastically spouted off. “She has plans of glory. She had it all planned out. She planned for you to use a system of spies on her plantation and to be discovered. She planned to be arrested to keep her silent. You do realize that Percival and Madeline were with her when she was taken into custody. I suppose you didn’t hear that they nearly starved and froze to death when they first arrived in Washington.
“To keep prying eyes from her, she was placed under guard at a secret location…even from me! The war department was in such chaos they lost her paperwork for days before I found them. She gave her food to the children. She had no heat. Yes, she sat in her glory in a filthy six-by-ten room with two small hungry children. When I finally found her, Madeline was sick with a fever. So to further her newfound glory, she gave up her precious children to your father.
“She was transferred to the Old Capitol Prison…prison, Cullen! For over eight months, she has held to the little dignity that is afforded her in her cell. She has been beaten and the one thing she held dear to her they stole from her. Go, visit her, Cullen, and tell me that she has done all for herself. You God damn imbecile!”