Promises to the Dead

by Mary Downing Hahn

  "You have a granny, too," Athena said. "Did your mama ever speak of her?"

  Perry shook his head, still not believing. "I have a grandmother? Why didn't Mama send me to her?"

  "She's a slave like you and your Aunt Hyacinth," Athena said quietly. "How could she help you?"

  Perry didn't have an answer for that. But I was full of wonderment. Once I'd thought the poor child was all alone in the world. Now it seemed he had more kin than I did, both white and black.

  "Is my grandmother in Virginia, too?" Perry asked. "I'd dearly love to meet her."

  "Mr. Peregrine sold your granny south about eight or nine years ago," Athena said, "around the same time he sent Hyacinth here." She glanced at Nate, but he just sat there drinking his coffee as if all this had nothing to do with him.

  "The last I heard your granny was on a plantation not far from where you're going," Athena went on. "But I believe there's a good chance she and Hyacinth—"

  Nate got Athena's attention by slamming down his coffee cup. Scowling something fierce, he shook his head at her. It was clear a secret hung in the air between them, a secret Nate wanted kept from Perry and me.

  Perry looked from one to the other, his face full of puzzlement. Like me, he wanted to ask more questions, but it was useless. Neither Nate nor Athena was about to say another word on the subject.

  "Now, Jesse, about this map." Athena tapped my hand to get my attention. "You take the train from Camden Street Station to New Berlin and cross the Potomac on the ferry there. Mr. Cornelius Baxter's place is called Waterside. You can't see it from the river, too many trees. Just take the first road you come to and follow it to the top of the hill. Big brick house. Can't miss it."

  She paused, and I studied the sketch she'd made, working hard to memorize the names of the places I had to go. I knew my letters, but sometimes it was hard to figure out the words they made. As Uncle Philemon often remarked, I was an ignorant boy and like to stay that way, and what did it matter as long as I knew how to hammer and saw.

  "The house ain't hard to find," Nate put in. "Both Athena and me have gone there with the judge's family."

  "How far is it?" I asked.

  "Oh, forty, fifty miles," he said. "You'll be on the train most of the way."

  "But what if somebody wants to know what I'm doing with a little slave boy?" I asked, ever the one to worry.

  Perry gave me a dirty look, but Nate just shrugged. "Ain't nobody paying any heed to children these days," he said. "They got more important things to worry about what with the war coming and soldiers everywhere."

  Athena nodded. "You won't have no trouble, Jesse, as long as you don't do anything to attract notice." She went to the fireplace, reached into a bowl on the mantel, and pulled out a handful of silver coins. "Use some of the grocery money for your train tickets," she said. "The judge will never miss it. Should be enough for the ferry as well."

  I thanked her and pocketed the money. Nate rose to his feet. "Let's go before someone comes knocking on the door."

  Athena hugged Perry. "Nate's right. Linger too long and the colonel might show up again."

  "Ain't you coming with us?" I asked. "The judge is bound to be mad as the very devil when he finds out Nate's gone."

  "Don't you worry about me, Jesse." Athena drew herself up tall and folded her arms across her chest. "The judge won't do nothing. He needs me to take care of him."

  She opened the door and let in the morning smell of wood smoke and city dirt. "Just promise me one thing," she said. "Find Hyacinth as soon as you get there. Don't talk to nobody till you talk to her. The judge sends Polly down there every summer for the fresh air and Hyacinth always goes along to wait on her. She knows all there is to know about that family. Knows the lay of the land, too." Athena chuckled. "Why, Hyacinth's even got her own cabin she's down there so much."

  "Come on now, Athena," Nate said softly. "I know you hate to see these children leave, but I got to get going whilst I can."

  Without giving me a chance to do more than call good-bye to Athena, Nate hustled Perry and me down the alley to Centre Street. I expected to see the colonel come around every corner, but for once there was no sign of the old devil. Even so, I was sure I hadn't seen the last of him. Somewhere, sometime we were bound to meet again. I only hoped I'd be ready for him.

  CHAPTER 12

  Near Pratt Street, Nate ducked into an alley. We were so close to the docks, I could smell the Bay. All of a sudden, I was so homesick I could scarcely keep myself from running off to search for Captain Harrison. If only I could go sailing home to Uncle Philemon. Let the old codger skin my hide. I'd thank him for it. What's more, I'd bring him all the turtles in the marsh. A bushel of crabs, a bucket of oysters, a string of bluefish, a muskrat—whatever his heart desired I'd get and never say a word of complaint.

  I glanced at Nate. If I was to scarper right this second, he wouldn't dare chase me through the streets of Baltimore. What's more, I could leave Perry with him. Nate could take the child to the army camp, say he was his son or something. Surely the Yankees would have room for a boy as small as Perry.

  But the trouble was, Nate hadn't made no promise to Lydia, had he? I was the one who done that. So I stayed where I was, bound by a dead woman to keep my word.

  Nate hugged Perry, but he shook my hand as if I was a man like him. "You be careful, Jesse. The colonel's bound to be on the lookout for you and that child."

  "You be careful, too, Nate," I said, ashamed of the evil thoughts I'd been entertaining. "And don't be too trustful of those Yankees. You never know what them characters are up to."

  After a few more farewells and warnings, we parted ways. Left alone with Perry, I took his arm to hurry him along. I half expected him to pull away, but he trudged beside me, saying nary a word.

  The Camden Street Station was mobbed with folks. Seemed like half the city of Baltimore was leaving for someplace else. To add to the crying babies and pushing crowds, Federal soldiers marched here and there, following orders shouted by officers. Some folks jeered the soldiers, but most were too busy with their own affairs to pay them or anyone else any attention.

  I was glad of the crowd, for it made it easy to buy our train tickets without attracting undue notice. The man took my coins without so much as looking at me. "Next train leaves in five minutes," he said and turned to the customer waiting behind me.

  Perry and I boarded the train with a large crowd of soldiers. I figured a bunch of Federals would have no interest in a couple of boys. Like Nate said, they'd have other things on their minds. Keeping the rebels from blowing up the railroad, for instance.

  Before the train even left the station, some of the soldiers had their cards out. One played a mouth organ. Another had a banjo. They were full of high spirits, laughing and joking and smoking the vilest cigars I ever smelled.

  The whistle blew, the cars lurched, and soon we were moving. Perry slumped lower in his seat and pressed his face against the window, but this was my first train ride and I aimed to enjoy it. So I joined in the jollity and sang "Old Dan Tucker," "Camptown Races," and "Buffalo Gals" along with the soldiers. It didn't matter if I knew all the words or not. I just hollered away.

  Once we passed over a high bridge way above the treetops. Truth to tell, it scared me a little to look down. I'd never been up so high in my whole life. I heard someone say it was the Thomas Viaduct, a great feat of engineering and famous throughout the country, but I couldn't help worrying the train might jump the tracks and we'd all go plummeting down to certain death and dismemberment. I reckon that was my view of the world. If something could go wrong, it would, and most likely I'd be there when it happened.

  At the Relay depot, I saw Federal soldiers swaggering around like they owned the place. I guessed they were on guard duty, but they were having a good time anyway, lolling in the sun and waving to us as we passed by. It seemed to me they led an easy life with nothing much to do.

  A soldier in the seat across the aisle from me leaned
over and asked where I was bound. He was a short, skinny fellow, not much older than me, but he was sporting a wispy little mustache.

  "New Berlin," I told him, hoping he wouldn't ask no questions about Perry.

  He whistled. "You'll see a fair amount of activity there. Rebels everywhere, I hear. Causing all sorts of mischief, too. Burning bridges and stopping trains and I don't know what all."

  "Is that right?" My heart beat a little faster at the thought of seeing some actual warfare.

  The young man nodded. "My name's Otis Hicks," he said by way of introducing himself. "Private Otis Hicks, Pennsylvania Infantry."

  I told him my name and where I was from. "Not meaning to be disrespectful or nothing," I went on, "but you look mighty young to be in the army."

  "I'm only fifteen," he confessed, "but I told the men at the recruiting station I was eighteen. Stood on my tiptoes when they measured me. I sure fooled them."

  With some envy I studied the shiny brass buttons on his jacket. "You reckon I could pass for eighteen?" I asked.

  Otis grinned and shook his head. "Maybe next year, if you stretch yourself as much as you can. And manage to grow one of these." He touched that fuzz on his lip like it was something to be proud of. "Why do you want to be a soldier?"

  "Same reason you do, I reckon. Win fame and glory and such."

  Otis nodded. "I can't hardly wait for the fighting to start. I aim to kill me at least one rebel a day."

  "What if you get killed instead?"

  He fingered his mustache again like it was cat that might purr if he petted it long enough. "Me? I'm too smart to catch a bullet." He laughed, but I think he really believed what he'd said.

  "I sure hope you're right, Otis," the man next to him said, but he winked at me as he spoke.

  Then the two of them started talking about the war and what they'd do when they finally got a chance to fight the rebels. To hear them talk, the Confederates might as well surrender right now and save everybody a passel of trouble.

  While the two of them tried to outmatch each other with boasts and brags, I glanced at Perry. Despite all the racket in the coach, he'd fallen fast asleep. Though I wanted to stay awake for fear of missing something, I couldn't keep my eyes open either. Voices rose and fell, the train chug-chug-chugged, swaying and bouncing over the tracks, and soon it rocked me to sleep.

  The next thing I knew Private Otis Hicks was shaking me. "I'm getting off here," he said. "New Berlin's the next stop. Better keep those eyes open or you'll end up with the rebels in Harpers Ferry."

  Perry woke up, and the two of us peered out the window. We were at Point of Rocks, and all the soldiers was piling off the train, shouting and laughing. I caught a glimpse of Otis and his companion and hollered, "Good luck to you in the war, Otis!" But he didn't look back. I guess he couldn't be bothered with a boy like me, not with so many important events to occupy his mind.

  The train picked up speed again and we were on our way, steaming along beside what I thought was the Potomac River. Later I heard someone say it was the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. The river itself was on the other side of the canal.

  Before long the train stopped at New Berlin. Perry and I jumped to the platform, crossed the canal, and headed for the ferry along with a bunch of other folks.

  The Potomac River was wide, and its water had a clean, fresh smell, different from the Bay's rich stink of salt and marsh and mud. Downstream, it ran fast between groups of rocks, swirling and foaming in the prettiest way, but upstream, it was calm. To the west, I saw hills higher than any on the Eastern Shore and mountains beyond them, the first I'd ever seen, dark against the setting sun. I could scarcely believe I was standing here, so far from home, seeing such sights. Me, Jesse Sherman, who up till recently had never been anywhere but Easton.

  I made out the ferry crossing the river from the Virginia side. It wasn't much more than a big raft, towed by a cable that stretched from bank to bank. Among the passengers were a few men and women and a couple of children. Horses and wagons, a pair of oxen, and three or four cows took up most of the space.

  One of the cows mooed, and the wind carried the sound to me over the water. It made me homesick to hear it. I couldn't help wondering if I'd ever see Uncle Philemon again. What if he took sick and died before I came back? I hadn't thought I'd miss the old man, but there I stood, waiting for the ferry with tears pricking my eyes.

  "It's coming, Jesse." Perry tugged at my sleeve. "See it?"

  We watched the ferry get closer and closer. Soon it was nudging up against the bank, and folks began coming ashore. The man herding the cows had some trouble. Those critters made quite a commotion, bawling and carrying on, but he finally managed to get them off the ferry and onto the bank.

  Then we paid our money and boarded. Once again nobody looked close at us. They was all caught up in their own affairs, talking about a skirmish between the Federals and the Confederates down the river a ways. Nobody killed, but several wounded.

  "I tell you, this war ain't ever going to get going," one man opined to his companion. "Why, all they've done is fire a few shots here and there. Not one battle worth noting."

  "That's the truth, Ebenezer," the other said. "The whole business ought to be settled before winter."

  "Damn lot of foolishness," another said. "Tearing up railroad tracks and burning bridges is all them rebs know how to do. Can't go anywhere these days without delays."

  "Why, those boys are just protecting us from Lincoln's men," the first man said. "Ain't that worth a little inconvenience, Mr. Farraday?"

  "Sounds to me like we got a Union man amongst us," said Ebenezer, his face red and wrathy.

  "No, boys, you misunderstood," Mr. Farraday said in a weak sort of way. "I merely meant I wish our boys would chase the Yankees back North and let us get on with our business, that's all."

  The men mumbled and grumbled and kept arguing amongst themselves. Fearing things might get ugly, Perry and I moved away from them and stood by the rail. We were doing our best to avoid notice, something that hadn't overly concerned me on the train. But now that we were about to set foot in Virginia, one of the Confederate States of America, things were different. To all intents and purposes, as Uncle Philemon used to say, a foreign country lay ahead, one that had no liking for runaway slaves and those that abetted them. There was no telling what they'd think about Perry and me, and I didn't want to find out.

  While we stood there acting invisible, three people joined us—a woman and a young lady, both dressed in black, accompanied by a well-dressed man.

  The ladies didn't know me, but having seen them once before, I recognized Mrs. Baxter and her daughter Polly, still dressed in mourning for the late Mr. Peregrine Baxter, deceased. Polly's face was so sweet and kind I knew Lydia had been right. She would surely welcome Perry as her nephew—which meant I'd soon be free to go home to my poor old uncle.

  I figured the man with Polly and her mother to be the judge's brother, Mr. Cornelius Baxter. He was tall and stout and haughty in the way he held himself. A true southerner, I thought. Not the sort to think well of a runaway slave boy's claim to kinship. But surely Polly could win him over. And her daddy and mama, too. She would have some talking to do, I reckoned.

  I moved a little closer, hoping to hear what they were saying, but Mr. Baxter gave me a look that clearly told me to move away. Nonetheless I managed to pick up a word here and there. It seemed they'd been to Frederick City to shop for dress fabric. Polly had been distressed by the sight of Yankee soldiers loitering everywhere, blocking the sidewalk, spitting tobacco, and using bad language.

  "I'll be so happy to be back in Virginia," Polly said, her voice rising as if she wanted to be sure everyone around her knew where her loyalties lay. "I won't cross this river again till those ill-bred Yankees have gone back where they came from."

  "If the judge had any sense, he'd join us here for the duration," Mrs. Baxter said. "I hear Baltimore is totally overrun with Lincoln's men. I fear for Horatio's sa
fety."

  Mr. Cornelius Baxter muttered something I couldn't hear. Polly turned her attention to the sunset, and her mother went on conversing softly with Mr. Baxter. "Had my son Peregrine lived," she said, "he would most certainly have gone to Richmond with his cousins."

  Mr. Baxter nodded in agreement. "Peregrine would have made a fine officer."

  At that point, the ferry reached the bank. With Perry and me at their heels, the Baxters strode ashore. They never once looked at us and so had no idea their own kin was following behind them. If I hadn't been so edgy, I might have laughed out loud. As it was, I watched them get into a waiting carriage and rattle off into the dusk.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Perry and I trudged up the same road the carriage had taken. Even though it was late May, the evening air was cold. I would have given a lot for a nice warm jacket.

  "Did you notice the pretty young lady on the ferry?" I asked Perry.

  "The one dressed in black?"

  I nodded. "Well, she just happens to be your aunt, Miss Polly Baxter herself!" I grinned at him. "What do you think of that?"

  "She was pretty," he said in a low voice.

  "Why, she's the most beautiful young lady I ever did see!" I gave him a poke. "Ain't you the lucky one?"

  "Did you hear what she was saying about those Yankee soldiers in Frederick City?" he asked.

  "Oh, that was just talk. She didn't mean nothing by it except she was vexed," I said, trying to pump him up as well as myself. "Just wait till she hears whose child you are. She'll love you to death."

  But the stubborn boy just sighed and plodded along beside me, kicking stones as he went. Try as hard as I might, I couldn't coax another word out of him. I never did see a child who could clam up tighter than that little rascal.

  At last we came to the top of a hill. By then it was pretty near dark. The Baxter place was straight ahead, set well back on a grassy lawn. Light shone from its windows and smoke curled out of the chimneys, scenting the air with the cozy smell of supper cooking.