by Lynn Austin
Grady knew that Delia wouldn’t change her mind. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her fiercely, devastated that he would have to leave her behind a second time.
“Go on, honey,” she said, freeing herself from his grip. “Take your wife and son—and may the Good Lord watch over all three of you.”
Grady wiped his eyes on his sleeve and reached for Anna. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, gripping his rifle in his other hand, and hurried out of the cabin. They raced toward the landing together.
Captain Metcalf and the others had found only one or two old-timers in the cabins, and they were leading them toward the waiting rowboat. Joseph saw Grady coming and his narrow face lit with joy. “Bless the Lord, is that her, Grady? You found your wife?”
Grady could only nod. Anna was coming with him. Anna and his son.
His son.
Grady felt dazed as the soldiers pulled him and Anna onboard the gunboat. As he led her downstairs belowdecks, he slowly became aware once again of the sounds of battle in the distance upstream and of his ship’s engines laboring as the crew tried to free them from the mudbank. And his son was crying. Grady realized that he had been crying pitifully ever since Anna had snatched him from his bed in Delia’s cabin. Grady found a quiet corner where they could sit down, and the distraught cries finally stopped as Anna put him to her breast and fed him. Grady watched, and the love he felt for both of them overwhelmed him.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. He went into the engine room and asked to borrow some tools. Then he sat by Anna’s side again as she fed their son and began sawing her shackles off.
“Are you okay, Anna?” he asked. “What happened? Why’d they chain you up like that?”
“I hit Missy Claire.”
“You … you what?”
“She wouldn’t let me be with our baby, and she said she was gonna sell him to the slave auction or throw him into the river—”
“Oh, God!” Grady reacted instinctively, dropping the tools as he enveloped Anna and his son in his arms. As his horror slowly subsided, he released his grip and gazed down at the baby. He was asleep. His tiny brown face was as wrinkled as Delia’s, his arms and legs curled tightly against his body. He had Anna’s long eyelashes and beautiful, full lips. Grady saw a drop of milk in the corner of his mouth and wiped it with his finger.
“I just started hitting Missy—hitting her over and over,” Anna said. “I couldn’t stop. I wanted to kill her.”
Grady couldn’t believe what she was telling him. Anna, who had taken so much abuse from Claire all these years, who had never stood up for herself, had endangered her own life to defend their child. He shuddered at the risk she had taken, aware of what might have happened to her. Striking a white person was a crime punishable by death. He heard the tremor in his own voice as he said, “I’m surprised that all she did was lock you up.”
“No, Missy told them to give me forty lashes. They were going to do it this morning but the overseer found out that the Yankee warships was coming, so he didn’t have time.” She looked up at Grady and her eyes filled with tears. “And then you came.”
He held her tightly again, overwhelmed at the timing that had brought him there at the right moment.
“Delia and I prayed and asked Jesus for help,” she said. “I prayed that He would help set our baby free—and now he is free.”
The ship lurched suddenly as it broke free from the mudbank. The baby awoke, startled, his frail arms and legs jerking in fright. Grady reached instinctively to stroke his head, to soothe him. The ship began to move. He remembered questioning God a few hours ago, asking why He had grounded them here when they were supposed to burn a bridge. Now he knew why. But he heard the thunder of Rebel guns in the distance and knew that they still weren’t safe. He felt an overpowering urge to protect his family, to get them safely back to Beaufort or die trying.
“Anna, we’re moving again. These shackles will have to wait until later. I need to go back up on deck with the other soldiers. We have a job to finish. Stay down here where it’s safe, okay.”
“Please be careful, Grady,” she whispered.
He took the stairs two at a time as he raced up on deck. The ship had stopped again, and Grady quickly saw why. The second boat was floating back downstream, coming toward them. “Our engine is disabled,” he heard the captain shout to Colonel Higginson. “Our engineer was struck by a shell and killed.”
Colonel Higginson lowered his head and closed his eyes. Grady wondered if he was praying. When he raised it again he nodded solemnly. “It’s getting late. We need to turn back. We’ll have to forget about the bridge.”
The tide was turning, as well. The colonel ordered the crippled ship to float downstream ahead of Grady’s vessel, carried along by the current. In spite of the fact that their mission had been aborted, that they had failed to burn the railroad bridge, Grady was surprised to discover that he didn’t feel his usual anger and frustration. God had a reason for this trip that Grady never could have foreseen.
They continued downstream, mile after mile. Grady was about to return belowdecks to sit with his wife when he heard the deadly boom of a cannon. The shell whistled sickeningly as it arced through the air toward him, and he watched in horror as it struck their sister ship a few dozen yards ahead. A long, straight stretch of water loomed in front of them before the river curved around a spit of land. The Rebels had planted a battery at that point, and their cannons were aimed squarely at the approaching vessels. Grady’s ship was heading into their trap with no way to escape.
“Take cover!” the colonel shouted.
Grady dove for the stairs with all the others, but even belowdecks there was no escape from the deadly bombardment. The vessel shook as her cannons returned fire, but it made a much-too-easy target for the waiting Rebels. Shell after shell struck the ship, exploding in a deadly rain of shrapnel and wood splinters and glass. Grady raced toward the corner where he’d left Anna, nearly tripping over a soldier’s lifeless body, and sloshing through a puddle of river water that was seeping inside. He pulled Anna away from the hull, into the center of the ship where it was safer, then crouched over her and their baby, shielding them with his body.
The deafening sounds of battle heightened the chaos around him—bombs exploding, glass and wood shattering, men screaming. But above it all, Grady could hear his son’s helpless, terrified cries. He had been sleeping so peacefully in Delia’s cabin, until Grady had come along and yanked him awake. Now the baby found himself in this terrible, frightening place and he couldn’t possibly know why. If only Grady could make his son understand that he loved him, that he would rather die himself than watch him suffering such terror. If only he could explain that this incomprehensible horror was, in reality, for his son’s own good. At the end of this perilous journey was something so much better than a safe cabin on Slave Row—there was freedom. But the gulf between Grady and his son was too great. There was no way to help him understand.
“I’m right here,” he murmured. “Please trust me … it’ll be okay …”
After what seemed like hours, the deadly explosions gradually faded into the distance as the ship finished running the gauntlet and steamed out of range. She was badly damaged, but miraculously still afloat. Grady rose slowly to his feet and stretched his cramped body. He felt a burning sensation in his neck and reached to remove a wood splinter. “Are you okay?” he asked Anna. “Is the baby okay?”
“Yes,” she replied. But the baby was still screaming, and she focused all her attention on him as she tried to soothe him.
Grady looked around. Injured men lay everywhere, moaning softly. He could see daylight through a gash in the ship’s hull. And crumpled beneath that hole, lay three bloodied bodies. One of them was Joseph’s.
“No … oh, no …” Grady breathed. He wove his way through the tangle of wreckage to kneel by his friend’s side. “Joe! Joe, can you hear me? Are you okay?”
Joseph turned to Grady, starin
g at him with dazed eyes. He smiled faintly. “I guess I’m still this side of glory, if you’re here,” he murmured. “But I think I’ve been hit.”
“Where?” Grady saw blood all over the front of Joseph’s jacket, oozing from a jagged tear above his belt. He gently loosened the buttons, then tried to hide his horror when he saw the gaping wound in the middle of Joe’s stomach. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said, willing it to be true. “I’m gonna find you a doctor.”
Joe grabbed his arm to stop him before he could rise. “Are your wife and baby okay?”
Grady bit his lip. “Yeah. Just shook up.”
Joe’s grin broadened. “She’s real pretty, Grady. How come you never told me you was married?”
Grady wondered how Joe could be talking about this now, with a hole blown through his gut. Then he realized that he probably needed a distraction from his pain. Grady took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I never told you … I’m sorry. I guess I just don’t like talking about myself, much.”
“God answered our prayer, Grady. You found your wife.”
Grady didn’t realize that he had reacted until Joe’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?” Joe asked. “Why’re you frowning like that? Don’t you believe that it was God who helped you?”
“Yes, I believe it,” Grady replied. “But you said God answered our prayer. And I didn’t pray, Joe. I was too afraid to pray. He answered you.”
Joe’s grip on his arm tightened. “Don’t you be listening to that old devil when he tells you God can’t forgive you. It’s a lie, Grady. Okay?”
He nodded, unable to speak.
A moment later, Captain Metcalf knelt beside them. “How are you doing, Joe?”
“He needs a doctor,” Grady said before Joe could reply. “Where is he?”
The captain hesitated. “He’s taking care of Colonel Higginson at the moment. The colonel was hit, too.”
Grady felt a surge of nausea. “Is he gonna be okay?”
“Let’s hope so. Listen, I’ll make sure the doctor sees Joe, next.”
Grady returned to Anna’s side when the doctor finally arrived, unable to watch as he probed Joseph’s wound, afraid to ask him if he thought Joe might die.
An hour later, the battered ship finally reached Wiltown Bluff. Grady helped transfer his friend and all of the other wounded men onto the John Adams, since it could make the trip to Beaufort much faster than the other two vessels. Anna and the other refugees moved with them, joining the noisy throng of slaves who had been rescued earlier that morning. Anna looked exhausted as she sat huddled in the hold with their baby, sitting between piles of bedding and other belongings.
“Why don’t you try and rest for a while?” Grady said. But no sooner had he spoken, than he heard the unmistakable sound of artillery exploding. The Rebels were attacking the ship from their shore batteries again, as it continued the journey downriver.
“Is this ever going to end?” Anna wept as missiles whistled through the air above them.
“Yes,” Grady promised, cradling her in his arms. “This ship is stronger and faster than the other one was. We’ll get through this, soon—and you’ll be free.”
She flinched as cannons roared and thundered all around them. “What’s it like, Grady? Being free?”
He leaned his head against hers, kissing her hair. “Imagine you and me together like this … and nobody telling us we can’t be. Imagine working and doing things for each other and for our son, all day long, instead of for somebody else. You can go wherever you want to go, and do whatever you please without nobody ever stopping you. I can buy you the biggest pile of paper you’ve ever seen, and you can draw pictures all day long if you want to—and you won’t even have to squeeze them all together on one page.” He held her tighter as a bomb exploded nearby. “And freedom means that this little boy of ours can grow up into a man without ever knowing what it’s like to be somebody’s slave.”
“I’m so glad you came back for me!” She was silent for a long moment, then said, “Grady … I’m sorry I didn’t go with you, before. I’m so sorry for being scared.”
“That’s all behind us now,” he said, kissing her again. “Let’s not be talking about it no more.”
Once again, the ship steamed past the Rebel battery and moved safely out of range. Grady finished filing off Anna’s shackles, then fixed a bed for her on his army blanket. He stayed with her until she fell asleep with their son beside her. But Grady was too uneasy to sleep. He went out onto the quarterdeck, where all the injured soldiers were, and searched for Joseph.
“How you doing?” he asked when he found him.
“Better,” Joe said weakly. “The morphine helps.”
Grady cleared his throat. “Listen, I never thanked you for helping me rescue my wife today. And I’m real sorry that I made fun, the other day, when you read me that Bible verse about being afraid of what man can do—”
“Hey, forget it, Grady. I meant what I said. I ain’t afraid of dying. I’ll be going home to see my heavenly Father. We’re all free up there, you know.”
Once again, Grady shuddered when he recalled Joseph’s certainty that Coop was in hell. “Just don’t be getting in a hurry to go to heaven, okay?” Grady said. “You’re gonna make it. They’re gonna fix you up good as new when we get to Beaufort.”
Grady looked around at all the other injured men and swallowed. He might easily have been one of them. “You needing anything, Joe? A drink of water or something?”
Joe shook his head.
Grady remembered the day he’d met Joe—his first day of freedom—and how Joe had offered him a drink from his canteen. “Mind if I sit here with you for a while?” Grady asked.
“You might have to listen to me preach, you know.”
“That’s okay. I’m getting used to it.”
Joe closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them again he met Grady’s gaze. “Are you gonna stay mad at God forever?” he asked softly. “I know you been through a lot in your lifetime, but God never stopped loving you, Grady. He heard your cries all that time. And He had His own reasons for not answering the way you wanted Him to. He just couldn’t explain it in a way you’d understand.”
Grady remembered the baby’s frightened cries this afternoon, and how he’d pleaded with his son to trust him. Maybe God really hadn’t abandoned Grady years ago in Richmond. Maybe it was just like Delia had said—God wanted to use all the hardships Grady had endured to lead him and so many others to freedom. The generals who were overseeing the war could see the picture so much clearer than the men on the front lines.
“You’re gonna do great things for God, Grady. I know it,” Joseph said. “That’s why the devil’s making you suffer so much—just like Job.”
Grady shook his head, still not ready to believe that he would ever have as much faith as Joseph did. “No, you’re the preacher, Joe. Not me,” he said. “That’s why you have to get better.”
* * *
Grady was relieved to learn that his friend was still in stable condition when they docked in Beaufort the next day. Ambulances met the ship at the wharf, and Grady helped carry the wounded men off first. He was dismayed to see Colonel Higginson lying pale and wounded on one of the stretchers. Captain Metcalf crouched down to speak with him, and Grady overheard Higginson say, “When I think of the slaves we rescued, I know that the day was worth all it cost, and more.”
Grady gazed out at the gray-blue water to stop his tears. Higginson—a white man—thought Grady’s wife and son worth dying for.
When he’d pulled himself together again, Grady hurried down belowdecks to fetch Anna. He had been dreading this moment, knowing that he would have to abandon the two of them on the wharf and return to camp with the other soldiers. How could he bear to leave Anna? She had never been on her own before, without Missy Claire telling her what to do.
He was still weighing what to say to her when Captain Metcalf came alongside him and clapped his hand on Grady’s shoulder
. “Take two days’ leave, son. Get your family settled.”
Grady closed his eyes. The relief he felt staggered him. But more than that, a white man had shown sympathy for him and his family. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Thank you so much.”
PART THREE
L et this be written for a future generation, that a people not
yet created may praise the Lord: “The Lord looked down
from his sanctuary on high, from heaven he viewed the
earth, to hear the groans of prisoners and release those
condemned to death.”
Psalm 102:18–20 NIV
Chapter Twenty-six
Beaufort, South Carolina
July 1863
It felt funny to Anna to be off the ship and standing on dry land again—and so strange to be back in Beaufort without Missy Claire. The sun was very warm as it shone down from the cloudless sky and glared off the water, but she couldn’t seem to stop trembling. “Where are we gonna go?” she asked Grady. He didn’t reply.
All the other soldiers lined up to march back to their camp, but she’d heard the white officer telling Grady that he could spend two days with her. She wondered what would happen after that. Anna wished Grady could stay with her and their baby from now on, but she knew that he couldn’t. He was still a soldier. They would still have to live apart.
A group of white ladies from a church up north had gathered all of the other rescued slaves together, promising them food and a place to stay if they came to the mission on St. Helena Island. They said that they could learn to read and write there, too. Anna wondered if it was true. But Grady took her arm and led her away, toward Bay Street, before she had a chance to hear more.
