by Ginny Dye
She could barely keep herself from jumping up and down when May wheeled, disappeared, and then seconds later walked out bearing plates full of green beans, carrots, peas, okra, and sweet potatoes. Miles pulled the same disappearing act; then he strutted out with three different kinds of pies.
Still, no one had spoken a word. They were too busy staring at the table almost groaning under the sudden weight of so much food.
“Merry Christmas!” Carrie finally cried. “Merry Christmas!”
May and Miles smiled, ducked their heads, then stepped back into the kitchen for their own Christmas feast.
Thomas was the first to find his voice. “Where in the world did all this food come from?”
“I brought it back from the plantation,” she explained happily. “Opal and Sam were determined we would have a good Christmas. I barely fit it in the wagon with all the herbs, but Opal wouldn’t hear of my leaving without it.”
Shaking his head, Robert was still staring at her. “You will never cease to amaze me,” he murmured lovingly.
Carrie blushed with pleasure then waved her hand over the table. “I suggest we eat it while it’s still hot.”
Laughing and talking, the five of them heaped their plates.
It was past dark when Carrie leaned back, groaning. “I’ve eaten more today than I have in the last two weeks put together.”
“I’m in agony,” Dr. Wild agreed with a broad smile. “I will enjoy every stomach pain I have later.”
“I think that’s the best food I’ve ever eaten,” Matron Pember enthused. “I hope your help received some of this.”
“I filled their plates first,” Carrie assured her. Then she stood to her feet while swaying dramatically. “If we can stumble our way into the parlor, I think this would be a wonderful time to sing.” She headed in that direction. “Matron Pember will play for us.”
“Me?” Matron Pember gasped.
“Yes, you,” Carrie responded calmly. “Don’t pretend you can’t. One of the days you sent me into your office, I saw the clipping your sister sent you. I couldn’t help noticing the headline. Why didn’t you ever tell me you used to be a concert pianist?”
“That was quite a long time ago,” the matron protested.
“Not that long ago,” Carrie shot back. Then she paused. “Of course, if you think the meal didn’t warrant it...”
Robert shouted with laughter. “Trust my wife to get what she wants - no matter what it takes.”
Matron Pember laughed too. “I’ll not do it for the meal,” she protested. “I believe that closely resembles blackmail.”
Carrie shrugged carelessly. “Whatever it takes.”
“I’ll do it because the idea of sitting in front of a fine piano is a delight I won’t pass up. I may be a bit rusty. Y’all will just have to bear with me.”
Carrie pulled up a chair next to the fire and listened to the matron play. If this was rusty, they were in for a bit of heaven when she got warmed up.
Finally Matron Pember swung around. “I thought we were going to sing,” she accused laughingly. “I’m not going to just give a concert.”
Thomas stepped up to the piano and began to sing, his strong tenor floating through the house. Seconds later everyone had joined in.
Carrie blinked back tears of happiness as she sang, her arm linked through Robert’s. They might live in a world wracked by war, but for this one day they had pushed the horror back.
Matthew was awake long after the rest of the men had gone to sleep. He was relishing his release from Rat Dungeon too much to let go of the delicious sensation. They had played cards and chess all afternoon, and Matthew had listened eagerly as the men had answered his rapid-fire questions as they caught him up on the world as much as they could.
Captain Anderson rolled over carefully. “You still awake?” he whispered softly.
“Yeah.”
“Think you can get out of this line of men without stepping on anyone?”
Matthew was curious at the urgency in his friend’s voice. He stood and eased carefully through the men surrounding him.
Moments later he and Anderson huddled at the far back of the room. They talked quietly for over an hour, glancing at the sleeping men occasionally to make sure no one else was listening.
Matthew was trembling with excitement when he crawled back under his thin blanket. He didn’t even feel the cold as he hugged the secret Captain Anderson had shared close to him. If all went well, he would be out of there in little more than a month!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ignoring the cold blasting his face and inadequately clothed body, Matthew sat next to the window. He gazed down until he located the street sewer that had inspired Anderson with his plan of escape. He shook his head admiringly. The captain was an amazing man. It was clear that both of them shared the same burning passion to escape and reclaim their freedom.
“It’s almost dark,” Anderson said quietly, strolling up and sitting down.
Matthew nodded. He had been watching the sun for several hours, silently urging it to hurry its course across the sky. He lived for the night hours now. It was only when all the prisoners were sleeping that they could engage in their work. It was simply too risky to let all 1,200 prisoners know of the escape route they were devising. Secrecy was paramount to the success of their plan.
Anderson looked around carefully then leaned closer to Matthew. “We need help,” he stated flatly.
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. He had been thinking the same thing but hadn’t thought it was his place to suggest it. It was, after all, the captain’s escape plan. “I agree,” he said quietly. “Peter will keep his mouth shut.”
“So will Wilson,” Anderson said confidently.
Quickly they selected fifteen men they believed they could count on to keep the secret. Anderson nodded quickly and walked away. Neither man could do anything to arouse suspicion. Even being seen talking for an extended period of time was sufficient reason to have the guards watch you more closely.
Matthew turned back to his window while thinking of what they had accomplished so far. Anderson had been waiting for him to be released from Rat Dungeon. They had started work the next night, Matthew insisting he was strong enough. His enforced discipline of exercise in the black hole had paid off. He was not as strong as before his imprisonment, but he was still capable of keeping up with Anderson.
Anderson had waited until everyone was asleep before he had motioned for Matthew to follow him. Minutes later they had slipped into the kitchen and were standing in front of the fireplace. “This is it!” Anderson whispered excitedly. “If we can put a hole through the brick wall here, it will give us the access we need.”
Matthew had looked at it doubtfully but had leapt forward to help him shove one of the stoves away from the fireplace. Then, using a knife Anderson had managed to acquire - their only tool - they began chipping away at the mortar on the bricks. Their progress was excruciatingly slow, but neither man complained. At least they were doing something. Any activity was better than merely sitting, waiting for fate to deal its hand.
The night before, after six nights of chipping, the hole had been enlarged enough. Anderson had ripped a board from one of the benches and slid it through the hole. Matthew shuddered as he recalled his horror of dropping down into Rat Dungeon. Amazingly, it was empty now, all the men either released or transferred to other prisons. He had cringed when the familiar squeal of rats had blasted him but had tightened his lips and helped Anderson decide where the tunnel would begin.
Matthew began to relax as he realized other men would be joining them. Secrecy was still paramount, but it was encouraging to know others would be helping with the back-breaking work. It made the beacon of freedom shine brighter.
Peter suddenly appeared in front of him. “You realize what day this is?”
Matthew thought a moment but then shook his head. His mind was full of nothing but the escape attempt.
“It’s Ne
w Year’s Eve,” Peter said, his eyes flicking toward the window. “Makes me think of all the parties back home. Man,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d give anything to get out of this place and line up for a good tongue-lashing by my editor.”
“Your chance may come sooner than you think,” Matthew said, dropping his voice to a whisper and looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to them. Briefly, he explained the plan. Peter’s face lit with excitement, and he nodded his head enthusiastically. “Count me in!” he whispered.
New Year’s Eve descended on Richmond with a driving storm of wind, snow, and sleet. Matthew huddled close to the men stretched out beside him and searched for any body heat available, trying to control the shivers contorting his body. He longed for the men to fall asleep so the group of conspirators could slip away. At least he was warm when he was digging.
“Midnight!” the guard rang out in his sing-song voice.
The song started down at the far end of the room, immediately picked up by every man until their voices rang through the night in brave, unified defiance.
Oh, say can you see, by the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we hailed, at the twilight’s last gleaming.
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous night
Over ramparts we watched it so gallantly streaming
Through the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free
And the home of the brave.
Matthew smiled through his tears. The pride he felt for his country was so fierce he could sense it gripping his body. The cold was forgotten as the song rose in the frigid air and floated out over the streets of Richmond. Song after song burst forth from the men, their patriotic fervor defying the reality of their imprisonment, until finally their voices faded away.
The year 1864 had begun.
One week later Matthew took a deep breath and squirmed into the tight confines of the tunnel. He was face down in the narrow tunnel that afforded just enough room for him to crawl forward on his stomach. Dirt and grime caked his hair and face. It was his turn to pass dirt back to the men waiting behind him. Anderson had ordered the men to break up into teams of six each. No one could stand more than a few hours in the stench-filled passage.
Matthew crawled forward until he reached the end of the tunnel. So far they had managed to dig twelve feet toward the sewer line. The work was back-breaking, made more difficult by the low level of oxygen. Within minutes Matthew was gasping for air. He knew several men were standing at the edge of the tunnel, fanning air toward him, but none of it seemed to be reaching him.
Laboriously, he hacked at the dirt in front of him with the knife. When enough had broken away, he loaded it into the dirt carrier and passed it back to Peter who was stationed behind him. Their “dirt car” was a wooden spittoon with holes through each end, opposite each other. Ropes had been passed through the holes.
Peter touched him on the leg to signal he had gotten it and then tugged on the rope, signaling the next man to pull it back. Matthew continued to hack away. Minutes later he felt Peter touch his leg again and reached back for the now empty box. The long night would pass just this way.
Matthew was sweating, panting for breath, when he felt the earth suddenly give way in front of him. He gasped and leaned forward. They had broken into the sewer! A rush of excitement gripped him and he craned his head back to tell Peter they had reached freedom. At the same time, he opened his mouth, a wall of gushing sewer water surged through the hole.
Choking and spitting, Matthew struggled to wriggle his way backwards. He could feel Peter fighting just as hard. But the water continued to rush forward. Matthew fought to keep his head above the swirling water, all the time trying to move backwards. He lost track of time, shuddering violently as the cold, putrid water encased his body.
Finally he felt his feet gripped. With one hard yank, he was pulled out onto the straw floor of the cellar. Too exhausted to move, all he could do was open his mouth wide, trying to pull in air. He knew how close he had come to drowning. The rest of the men gathered around him and stared down into his face. Their expressions were ones of grim concern, but no one could say a word for fear they would be heard in the hospital room on the other side of the wall.
Matthew rolled over, wishing he could gag up the water while feeling violently ill. Silently, he motioned toward the board leading up to the kitchen. The watching men picked him up and carefully passed him up to the kitchen. Once there Matthew staggered forward to a bucket and gagged up the sewer water he had swallowed then promptly threw up all he had eaten that day. Weak and sweating, he leaned against the kitchen wall and gasped for breath.
“Go back down and close up the hole,” he finally ordered. “We’ll have to find another way.”
Cold rain slashed at the windows as Opal stood, staring out into the darkening sky. The ping of the water against the glass made her shiver. She was glad for shelter on such a forbidding night. Rubbing her hands together, she turned to throw more wood onto the fire and then peered into the oven to check on her loaves of bread.
“Sure does smell good in here,” Sam said as he opened the kitchen door and strode in, shaking water from his hat. “It a brute out there tonight. All the kids in?”
“Yep. I just finished feeding them. They’re in the parlor doing their studies.”
Sam peered into the oven, grinned appreciatively, then shut the door carefully, and turned to her. “Somethin’ be botherin’ Zeke.”
Opal frowned. “I’ve noticed the same thing.” She paused. “It’s like he’s...”
“Restless,” Sam finished. “That boy ain’t been the same since Moses been through here.”
“Something’s been bothering Susie, too,” Opal observed. “She’s been awful quiet.”
“She knows somethin’ is eatin’ at her man,” Sam said soberly. “Can’t help but eat at her some, too.”
“What should we do?” Opal asked quietly.
“Do?” Sam asked in surprise. “Why, we ain’t gonna do nothin’. They be grown folks, them two. They gots to work out whatever be botherin’ them on they own.”
Opal nodded, then turned back toward the window, and stared in the direction of the slave quarters. Susie had become like a daughter to her - as well as a close friend. She would give anything to take away the burdensome look she’d seen hounding Susie for the last few weeks. A sudden flash of movement made her stiffen and swing away from the window. “Someone is out there!” she whispered, motioning to Sam wildly.
Sam scowled, hauled himself up with a grunt, and edged toward the back door. Before he could reach it, the door swung open. Opal jumped back in alarm just as Susie and Zeke, dripping with water, dodged into the kitchen.
“What a storm!” Zeke said, moving instantly toward the fire.
“You done scared the sense out of me!” Opal cried.
“Why?” Susie laughed. “Isn’t anybody but us going to be out on a night like tonight. This weather isn’t fit for man nor beast.” She sniffed and moved closer to the stove. “Is that your bread I smell cooking?”
“Should be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Opal acknowledged with a smile. Her dream of owning her own restaurant someday hadn’t diminished. It warmed her heart that people liked her cooking so much. One day, when this war was over and the children’s daddy was free, she would head north and start her own little place.
Sam leaned back in his chair. “You didn’t come dashin’ through that storm just to see if Opal be makin’ bread,” he said steadily. “What you really doin’ here?”
Opal realized Sam was right. She looked at Susie expectantly. “Yeah. What are you two doing here?”
Susie exchanged a look with Zeke and sat down at the table.
Zeke moved away from the fireplace reluctantly and
joined her. “I reckon we do have a reason to be here,” he admitted, smiling shyly.
Opal scurried around the kitchen. Minutes later, cups of hot coffee steamed in front of all of them.
Zeke gulped some of the hot brew gratefully but then looked up, meeting their eyes squarely. “I reckon we’re gonna be movin’ on from here.”
Opal gasped and leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”
Susie reached out and took one of Opal’s hands. “Zeke has been real restless for a while.”
“Since Moses was here,” Opal said quietly.
Zeke shook his head. “I was feelin’ it even before Moses came through.” He glanced at Susie.
“Zeke wants to serve in the army,” Susie said, her voice firm in spite of the fear in her eyes. “He wasn’t saying anything because he knew how strongly I felt about staying here until Daddy gets out of prison.”
“You changed your mind?” Sam asked pointedly.
Susie frowned. “I wouldn’t say I’ve changed my mind. It’s just…,” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “This war is dragging on longer than anyone thought. Zeke and I figure the Union needs all the black soldiers it can get to help win it.”
“I ran away from North Carolina to join up with the army,” Zeke explained. “When I met Susie, things changed.”
“Women have a way of doin’ that to a man.” Sam chuckled knowingly.
Susie turned back to Opal. “I want to go with him,” she said earnestly. “It could be a long time before Daddy gets out of prison. The children are growing up. They’re happy here with you.”
“And you’re not,” Opal said simply. She smiled gently. “You want something more?”
“Am I being selfish?” Susie cried. She leaned back, taking a deep breath. “I want to make a difference. Like Zeke. When I was in Richmond, I helped with the spying. I felt like I was doing something.” Her eyes brightened. “From what I hear, I can be of help in the camps. That’s where I’ll stay until the war is over. I can help Rose and still be close when Daddy gets out of prison. Then all of us can figure out what to do.”
