Candle in the Darkness

by Lynn Austin

  A long time after that, she finally managed to drift off into a very light sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  April 1865

  The sky was barely turning light the next morning when a monumental explosion jolted Caroline right off of the sofa and onto her feet. It was as though a hundred cannon had fired at the same time. Moments later there was a second blast, every bit as powerful as the first. Then a third. The concussions seemed to shake the house to its foundations. Caroline cowered in terror as windows on the south side of her house shattered from the force of the explosions.

  For a moment, she felt dazed, then panic-stricken. She was afraid that the house would collapse on all of them. Isaac was screaming in fear, Luella and Ruby were crying, Gilbert was holding his head and moaning. Her own head ached from the detonation. She wanted to run but didn’t know in which direction to flee.

  “It’s okay. We’re all okay,” Eli said, holding Esther in his arms. Then he saw the terrified mare, straining at her rope as a shower of splinters and glass rained down on her, and he hurried outside to soothe her.

  When Caroline had calmed down enough to think, she decided to run upstairs to her father’s balcony and try to see what had happened. She had to step carefully over the broken glass that littered the floor. Three Confederate warships had long been anchored in the James River below, ready to defend the city in case the Union fleet made it past Drewry’s Bluff. Now they were gone. The retreating Rebels had blown them to pieces rather than allow the Yankees to retrieve their cannon and stores of ammunition. Dense smoke, filled with thousands of fiery fragments, billowed into the sky where the ships had been anchored.

  “Oh, God, help us,” she murmured. Those ships probably weren’t the only things the fleeing Confederates would destroy. In the past, each time Richmond had been threatened, city officials had talked of torching the town rather than leaving anything for the Yankees to gloat over.

  She hurried downstairs to tell the others. “I think that was just the beginning,” she said. “The Rebels will probably blow up everything they don’t want the Yankees to get. There will be more blasts when the arsenal goes up. I’m afraid they’re going to set the entire city on fire.”

  It took everyone a moment to digest the news. “I think we’ll be all right, up here on the hill,” Eli finally said.

  “Probably,” Caroline agreed, “but each of us had better pack some belongings, just in case. We can watch from the balcony, and if the fire starts spreading this way, we’ll be ready to run.”

  She climbed the stairs again with Gilbert, and they watched in horrified fascination as all the ships docked at the wharf caught fire. A row of tobacco warehouses near her father’s went up next, flames licking through the windows and roofs. As time passed, fire and smoke began to curl into the sky from several more locations in the lower city, and Caroline could hear the hungry crackle and roar of the growing inferno, even at this distance.

  “Look . . . Confederate soldiers,” Gilbert said, pointing. A long gray column of men snaked across the James River on Mayo’s Bridge, heading south. That probably meant that the northeastern approaches to the city had been left unguarded.

  “They’ve set the railroad bridges on fire,” Gilbert said. Caroline watched the flames inch across the slender wooden structures like a creeping predator until the bridges began to collapse, dropping into the river in a cloud of steam. When nearly all of the soldiers had reached the other side of the James, they torched Mayo’s Bridge, as well. The river reflected the glowing flames as if it, too, were on fire.

  Tears fell silently down Caroline’s cheeks as she stood on the balcony for nearly two hours, watching Richmond burn. She felt utterly helpless as flames consumed more and more of the business district, spreading at last to the flour mill that Charles’ family had owned for several generations. How would he and his family survive if their livelihood went up in smoke?

  “At least the fire ain’t spreading up this way,” Gilbert said when he noticed her tears. But then Caroline realized in which direction the conflagration was spreading—to the west and north, inching up from the river toward Capitol Square and nearby Court End. Toward Charles’ home.

  “I wonder if Sally and her parents fled the city last night?” she asked aloud. But Charles’ father had been ill for months, too weak to travel very far. If they were home, Sally would be terrified, with no safe place to go. “I promised Jonathan I would look after her,” she murmured.

  Gilbert looked at her. “Who, Missy?”

  “His wife, Sally. Would you be willing to drive me downtown to her house?” she asked. “I won’t make you do it unless you want to, Gilbert. The Yankees will be here any minute, and you’ll be a free man. You’re not obliged to follow my orders anymore.”

  “Ain’t safe for either one of us to go down there.”

  “Maybe not. But Sally’s servants won’t stay with her and help her like you’re all helping me. She and her parents won’t have any way to hitch up the carriage or get out of Court End if the fire spreads in that direction. I need to bring them up here, where it’s safe.”

  “I can go get them for you, Missy. Ain’t no need for you to 407 risk your life.”

  His courage brought tears to her eyes, but she shook her head. “I need to go,” she said quietly. “I need to make it up to them for using them the way I did. Please, if you’ll just get the buggy ready, I can probably drive it myself.”

  Gilbert gripped her shoulders, something he had never done before in his life. His gaze met hers. “I promise your daddy I gonna look after you. I ain’t letting you go down there alone.”

  “Then we’ll both go. Come on.”

  Eli tried in vain to stop them. “Just pray for us,” she told him. “This is something I have to do.”

  Gilbert whipped the horse into a near gallop once they were on Main Street, and headed down Church Hill. When they reached the bottom they could hear the crackling flames, roaring and hissing like a living creature. Mixed in were shouts and cries as looters wove among the burning buildings like ghosts, keeping ahead of the flames. Dense black smoke billowed into the sky, showering Caroline and Gilbert with ash and soot until they could scarcely breathe. She could feel the heated air with each breath she took. Flaming bits of debris showered down around them. Surely this was like the earth’s final end, when fire would engulf the planet and the firmament itself would melt with a fervent heat.

  The entire lower city, all the way to the river, was in flames. Caroline saw great sheets of fire leaping from window to window, building to building, like children skipping across a stream from stone to stone. Several downtown banks were on fire. Flames soared through the roof of the Enquirer building. Two of the city’s biggest hotels, the American and the Columbian, were enveloped. She heard a low rumble and saw one wall of the post office building collapse. The flames moved on to devour the state courthouse and all the public records stored there. People were running up to the square from the lower city to escape the fire, women and children, old and young, weeping, screaming. Thankfully, the fire hadn’t reached Capitol Square yet, or St. Paul’s Church.

  But adding to the horror of the destruction was the fact that no one was rushing to put out the fire. Caroline didn’t see a single fire wagon in the streets or even hear a clanging alarm bell. The people she saw were either fleeing, looting, or watching in mute horror as the city burned.

  Gilbert had just turned north off Main Street when the inferno reached the Confederate arsenal. The explosions that followed were so horrific, Caroline thought the earth would rock off its axis. The mare reared in terror, tipping the buggy and throwing Gilbert to the ground as the reverberations went on and on. Caroline grabbed onto the seat in time and managed to hold on until the buggy righted itself, but her screams were lost in the endless rumble of sound as several hundred railcars full of ammunition continued to detonate. Then, still dazed, she saw that Gilbert was about to be trampled by the panicked horse. Caroline leaped d
own and grabbed the mare’s bridle, stopping her just in time. It took every ounce of strength she had to hang on as the horse reared and bucked in terror.

  “Gilbert!” she screamed above the unceasing roar of exploding shells. “Gilbert!” Please, God . . . let him be all right! She watched as he slowly rolled over, then sat up, looking stunned but unhurt. When he saw her clinging to the frightened horse, he scrambled to his feet to help her.

  “Gilbert, thank God. I’m so sorry I got you into this,” she said. But Caroline could barely hear her own voice and knew he couldn’t possibly hear her above the sound of the blasts. They walked for the next few blocks to the St. Johns’ house, holding the horse tightly between them. When they finally arrived, Gilbert led the mare into the carriage house to calm her down and try to get her out of the smoke, while Caroline walked up to the door of the mansion alone.

  After pounding for several minutes, it occurred to her that no one inside could possibly hear her above the fusillade from the arsenal, so she simply opened the door herself and went inside. As she had guessed, all of the St. Johns’ servants had fled. She found Sally and her mother alone in the house, huddled beneath the dining room table, nearly insane with terror. They clung to her when they saw her, as if she was the last person alive on the earth.

  “It’s all right,” she soothed. “Everything is going to be all right. You’re okay. You’re both safe.” Eventually the sound of her voice calmed them, and they were able to bring their tears under control.

  “Where’s your father?” Caroline asked Sally.

  “H-his flour mill. He t-took the horse,” she stammered.

  Caroline knew that his mill had been on fire for some time. She feared for his safety, but she kept her thoughts to herself. “I’ve come to take you home with me. It’s safer up on Church Hill. The fires aren’t spreading that way.”

  “But we can’t go out there,” Mrs. St. John wept. “The Yankees are bombarding us.”

  “No, they’re not,” she said gently, rubbing the older woman’s shoulder. “Those explosions are from the Confederates. They’re burning their own arsenals and ammunition dumps. Come with me, please. I’ll take you to where it’s safe.”

  “W-what about my father?” Sally asked.

  He never should have left you here all alone, she wanted to say. But she didn’t. “We can leave him a note and tell him where you are. If he has a horse, he’ll find us.”

  She finally convinced them to leave, each bringing a bundle of valuables with them. Caroline scavenged in the kitchen while they packed, finding a small bag of flour and a little bacon. Then she soaked four towels in water so they could cover their mouths, and led the two frightened women out to the carriage house where Gilbert was waiting. She was eager to leave before they changed their minds.

  Caroline felt more accustomed to the roar of the flames and the sound of bursting shells her second time out, but the other two women cowered on the carriage seat and whimpered in terror. The buggy would only hold the three women, so Gilbert walked beside the horse, leading her by the bridle. As they slowly made their way back toward Capitol Square, a new sight made Caroline suddenly go cold with fear, even though the air around her felt nearly as hot as a furnace.

  Yankees.

  The United States Cavalry had already arrived in the square, followed by long, unending lines of blue-coated soldiers, tramping down the hill into the city. Hundreds of those soldiers were Negroes. The Stars and Stripes already flew from the roof of the capitol building again, and a band had begun to play the “Star Spangled Banner.” Crowds of Richmond’s former slaves lined the streets to cheer the conquerors. It was like a scene from a nightmare, Caroline thought, to hear gaiety and celebration in the midst of burning and horror.

  Gilbert deftly avoided the marching soldiers and spreading fire, weaving his way down side streets until they were climbing Church Hill once again. An hour later they were home, safely inside, away from the smoke and the fear and the roar of the flames.

  Caroline continued to console the two women, holding them in her arms, talking with them, praying with them. Esther brought them a little warm soup to eat. Late that afternoon, when Sally and her mother were fed and comforted, Caroline put them to bed in her mother’s room.

  As evening fell, a pall of black smoke hid the setting sun. In the distance, shells continued to explode at the arsenal and at the Tredegar Iron Works, now in flames as well. But the Yankees had worked hard all afternoon, putting out most of the fires. They had stopped it from spreading to the rest of the city. Eli locked and bolted the doors as Caroline and her servants prepared to spend another night in the drawing room.

  It was only then, after the day’s harrowing events were far behind her, that Caroline fully realized what she had seen that morning. She leaped up from the sofa, startling all of her servants. “The Yankees are here!” she said. “They were flying the American flag.”

  “Yes, Missy,” Eli said. “We know. Gilbert told us.”

  “But that means you’re all free. Finally! You aren’t slaves anymore. You’re free men and women—all of you.”

  Eli broke into a wide grin. “We know that, too, Missy. We knowing it all day, now.”

  “Well, for goodness’ sakes, why aren’t you celebrating?” Caroline began grabbing them, one after the other, and hugging them—even Gilbert.

  Eli squeezed her hard in return. “Didn’t seem right for us to celebrate, seeing as you and the other women losing so much.”

  “You don’t have to feel that way,” Caroline said. “Come on, let’s dance . . . laugh . . . sing! This is the most wonderful day of your life! You’re free!”

  She tried to pull Gilbert to his feet, but he shook his head, smiling shyly. “If you don’t mind, Missy, I think we all like to celebrate by getting a good night’s sleep.”

  “Amen,” Esther said. “Besides, it don’t feel any different being free than it did when I ain’t free.”

  “That’s because you always love us, Missy,” Tessie said. “We ain’t never been slaves in your eyes.”

  “Or in God’s eyes, either,” Eli said. “Best way to celebrate is to thank Massa Jesus for what He done.” Caroline heard the powerful emotions in his voice. “It was the Lord’s mighty hand that delivered us out of slavery,” he said, “with Missy Caroline helping Him. Don’t any of you ever forget that. Make sure you tell little Isaac and all our other children and grandchildren. Pass it down through all generations. It was the Lord God who hear our groaning. He’s the One who set us free. And the Bible says that if the Son make us free, we be free indeed. And I say, Thank you, Massa Jesus! Amen!”

  For the second morning in a row, Caroline was jolted awake at dawn, this time by someone pounding on her front door. Gilbert ran to open it. A moment later she heard Mr. St. John shouting, “Where are they? What have you done with my wife and daughter?”

  Caroline hurried into the foyer. Soot smudged Mr. St. John’s face and hands. His charred clothes reeked of smoke. He was coughing, wheezing, but when he saw her, he began shouting louder still. “What kind of chicanery are you trying to pull, stealing my family away from me this way? Your little deceptions won’t work anymore. We know what you are—”

  “Daddy, stop,” Sally cried out from the top of the stairs. “Caroline hasn’t done anything wrong. She helped Mother and me.”

  “Helped you! Get down here. Both of you. I’m taking you home.”

  “We were terrified yesterday, Daddy,” Sally said as she helped her mother down the stairs. “You left us, and the servants all ran off, and we thought we were going to die. If Caroline hadn’t come and brought us here where it was safe, I don’t know what we would have done.”

  “Get in the carriage,” he said coldly. Mr. St. John opened the front door himself and pointed toward the street. Caroline saw his carriage parked at the curb, but it was without a driver.

  “Did you even hear a word that Sally just said?” Mrs. St. John asked him.

  He glared
at her. “Our mill burned to the ground yesterday. You can thank Caroline and her Yankee friends for that. Now get in the carriage.”

  They started to leave, but before she reached the door, Sally turned and ran back to take Caroline in her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered as she held her tightly. “I’ll never forget what you did for us yesterday.”

  Morning revealed that most of the fires were out. Caroline and Gilbert drove downtown to see what was left of Richmond.

  Fifty-four city blocks lay in charred ruins. Nearly the entire business district was gone. More than nine hundred homes and businesses. Nothing remained except skeletal brick walls, or maybe a blackened fireplace and chimney rising from the smoking debris. In some places, the rubble of fallen bricks was piled so high it blocked the streets. The town didn’t even look like Richmond.

  The enemy’s occupying forces had moved into President Davis’ Confederate White House. Everywhere that Caroline and Gilbert looked, on every street corner and city block, she saw armed soldiers dressed in blue standing guard. They drove past Capitol Square, where hundreds of Yankee horses grazed, and Caroline remembered sitting on a bench in that square beside Charles the night Virginia had seceded. Four years ago this month, the city had celebrated the birth of the Confederacy. But Charles had looked at her that night, his eyes filled with sorrow, and said, “You deserve to know the truth . . . I don’t think we can possibly win this war.”

  If Charles had known just how much he would lose—not only the war itself, but his city, his livelihood, thousands of his fellow soldiers, and worst of all, their love, their future—would he still have fought? If she had known that fighting to abolish slavery would have cost her Charles’ love, would she still have done it?

  Her questions had no answers. It was useless to ask them, as useless as trying to pick up the fallen bricks from among the rubble to put the city back together again. It couldn’t be done. “Trust that everything you done for God and everything you gave up for Him has a purpose,” Eli had said. “God will give it all meaning in the end.” Caroline could only pray that it would be so.