Ulys soon reestablished his headquarters in Holly Springs, but not in the Walter house. William Henry Coxe, a cotton planter who represented himself as a Union man, invited Ulys to occupy his home, a lovely four-year-old Gothic villa on Salem Avenue.
As soon as Julia settled her small household into their new accommodations, she called on her former landlady, concerned for the family’s well-being after the frightful raid. Mrs. Govan invited her in for coffee—the last they had, she remarked with a wistful smile. “When the raiders came for you, I said that you had already left to meet General Grant in Oxford, which was true.” Mrs. Govan smiled as she stirred a scant pinch of sugar in her coffee. “They then demanded I relinquish your personal effects. I said that you had taken everything with you, which was not entirely true.”
Mrs. Govan beckoned to a servant and issued instructions to load Julia and Jesse’s trunks onto Mrs. Govan’s carriage.
“You saved our belongings,” Julia exclaimed, wishing, not for the first time, that their husbands fought on the same side. “I had given them up for lost. Thank you very much indeed.”
“I would have saved your horses and carriage too, if I could have hidden them.”
Soon thereafter, in consideration of the courtesy shown his wife, Ulys ordered a guard placed upon Mrs. Govan’s home and issued a guarantee against search, trespass, or devastation by federal parties for the remainder of the war.
On Christmas Eve, Mrs. Govan sent Julia a fine turkey and several grouse for the Grants’ holiday dinner. “I wish I could return the compliment with some delicacies from the North,” Julia fretted to Jule, “but these days our mess is indifferent at best. All the nice things I brought with me from St. Louis are long gone.”
“Not everything,” said Jule. “You still have a few jars of quince jelly from White Haven.”
“Where?”
“At the bottom of your trunk. I wrapped the jars for safekeeping in the pieces of that quilt you’re never going to finish.”
“I certainly shall finish it someday.” Julia had begun the patchwork quilt as a bride, but what with raising the children, her persistent headaches from eyestrain, and many tasks to occupy her time, she sewed on it only infrequently. Ulys teased that she took it with her everywhere, and yet it never came any closer to completion. It had become something of a family joke, common ground between Dents and Grants.
“Don’t you find it curious,” Jule remarked, “that a lady who can see into the future often can’t see what’s right in front of her?”
Abruptly Julia stopped searching through the trunk, sat back on her heels, and frowned up at Jule, exasperated. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re still referring to the overlooked jelly.”
“Of course,” said Jule, feigning innocence, but the determined set to her mouth betrayed her. “What else would I be talking about except your poor vision, and how much good it does you when I see for you?”
“What else indeed.” Usually Jule was better able to conceal her discontent, which had increased steadily ever since President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation had gone into effect. Jule thought she should be free too, and she stubbornly refused to accept the wording of the document and facts of geography: Papa was exempt from the decree since Missouri was not in rebellion. By law, Jule was still a slave, and by choice, she had become an ever less manageable one.
“However the jelly came to be spared,” Julia said briskly as she unearthed the jars from their patchwork nest, “it will make a wonderful gift.”
She arranged the four jars in a basket, cushioned in a bed of pretty fabric, and sent Jule off to deliver her gift to Mrs. Govan.
Van Dorn’s raid had disrupted communications, but word of Ulys’s dreadful Order No. 11 had spread nonetheless. As Jewish families within the Department of the Tennessee were forced from their homes, rabbis and other influential Jewish leaders throughout the North lodged official protests. Delegations from Cincinnati and Louisville had met with President Abraham Lincoln at the White House, and soon thereafter, General Halleck telegraphed Ulys, “A paper purporting to be a Genl Order No. 11 issued by you Dec 17th has been presented here. By its terms it expels all Jews from your Dept. If such an order has been issued, it will be immediately revoked.”
Ulys promptly had Rawlins issue another order declaring, “By direction of the General in Chief of the Army at Washington the General Order from these Head Quarters expelling Jews from this Department is hereby revoked.”
Julia privately rejoiced, and she knew from Ulys’s haggard looks that he deeply regretted the entire affair and wished it could be expunged from the pages of history. “I fear that when this war is done, all I will be remembered for is my shameful behavior toward the Jews in this one moment of anger,” he confided one evening as she nursed him through a particularly severe sick headache.
“That is not all you will be remembered for,” Julia had consoled him, entirely certain of it, and ever mindful of her mother’s prophecy that someday his true greatness would be known to all.
• • •
Julia’s household remained in Holly Springs into the New Year, but after repairs to the railroad through Grand Junction were completed in early January, Ulys moved his headquarters fifty miles northwest to Memphis. Upon their arrival, Ulys took rooms for the family at the Gayoso House, a gracious hotel on Main Street, and established his offices in a bank building nearby. The Gayoso was a fine establishment, the rooms comfortable, the staff courteous if aloof, but the ladies of the city were openly hostile to the Yankee occupiers, and Julia had little hope of forming cordial acquaintances as she had in Holly Springs.
A few days after their arrival, Ulys left Memphis, having resolved to relieve General John A. McClernand of his command in Arkansas and to lead the expedition upon Vicksburg himself. A week later he returned to Memphis to make the necessary arrangements for securing the rear territory before moving on Vicksburg. On the morning of his departure, he had solemnly told Julia that the real work of the campaign to capture Vicksburg was about to begin. “I don’t know how often I might be able to see you and the children until the city falls,” he warned, taking her hands.
“I understand,” she replied, smiling bravely. “Ulys, you know how much I long to see Fred, Buck, and Nellie again. If you’re going to be away indefinitely, should I not go to them?”
He brought her hands to his lips and agreed that a visit might be possible, and a few days later he wrote from Young’s Point, Louisiana, “I shall not return to Memphis until the close of this campaign. You had better make your visit to the children at once. As soon as I am stationary I will write to you to join me.”
Happy tears filled Julia’s eyes as she imagined embracing her three eldest children again. She would have departed at once, but various arrangements had to be made first, and the vagaries of the post complicated their planning. Ulys wanted Fred to accompany him as he had in Springfield in the early months of the war, and Fred, who seemed destined to become a military man like his father, was very eager to go. As for Buck, Nellie, and little Jesse, Ulys preferred for Julia to take them back to Memphis so they would be nearby in case an opportunity came for them to visit him. Finally everything was in place, and by the end of March, Julia and all four of her children had settled happily into larger quarters in the Gayoso House, where they awaited a summons from Ulys to visit him at his headquarters near Vicksburg.
Fred did not remain with them long. The day after the children arrived in Memphis, Colonel Hillyer escorted Fred and his own son to Ulys’s encampment. “Fred is looking well and seems as happy as can be at the idea of being here,” Ulys wrote, despite a terrible storm that had delayed the travelers at Lake Providence. He assured Julia that he would require Fred to read every day and study his arithmetic, and write to her at least twice a week. “Kisses for yourself and children dear Julia,” he ended his letter. She hop
ed it would not be long until he could deliver those kisses himself rather than through the post.
• • •
At long last, Ulys wrote with instructions for Julia to bring the children on the next boat for a few days’ visit.
How wonderful it was to have her whole family around her once more! Fred looked dashing in the uniform she had made for him, wearing a sword with a yellow sash at his side. He had a clever little Indian pony to ride, he shared the soldiers’ mess, and he slept on a cot in his father’s tent. “He never knows what it is to be afraid,” Ulys confided proudly when Fred couldn’t overhear.
“A little healthy fear might be prudent,” Julia reminded him, and Ulys assured her yet again that he kept Fred well out of harm’s way.
They toured the camp, and all the officers they met paid their kindest regards to Julia. She received them graciously, admired the encampment, and inspected a canal that the men had apparently been digging and reinforcing for many days. “They named it after me,” Ulys remarked.
A dubious honor, Julia thought, considering that the river had flooded the canal and had filled it with backwater and sediment. It was a remarkable feat of engineering—but Julia could see no point to it whatsoever.
She waited until Jule had led the children off to their lunch before she unburdened herself. “Why don’t you move on Vicksburg at once?” she asked as they strolled along a well-worn path between regimental banners. “Do stop digging this silly canal. You can’t possibly mean to use it.”
“General McClernand before me was charged to widen and deepen this canal,” Ulys replied, amused. “President Lincoln navigated the Mississippi in his younger days and he understands the river. He sets much store by this endeavor.”
“Well, I think it’s a waste of time and effort.”
Ulys laughed heartily—and the sound reminded her how long it had been since she had last heard him laugh. “It’s true that I won’t use the canal,” he admitted. “I never expected to, but it served its purpose by giving the men something to do while I waited for the waters to subside. It also gave any observers something to watch while I made plans elsewhere.”
“I suppose you had to give the reporters something to write about,” Julia acknowledged. “If the papers proclaimed that absolutely nothing was going on here, the people of the North would be calling for your head.”
“And I would be so bored that I might willingly let them take it. I only hope the Confederates observing us from Vicksburg won’t realize it’s a ruse as quickly as you did.”
“Don’t give them enough time to figure it out. Move upon Vicksburg now and you’ll take the city.”
Ulys’s eyebrows rose. “I suppose you have a plan of action to propose?”
“I do. Mass your troops in a solid phalanx at a point north of the fortress, rush upon it, and the enemy will be obliged to surrender.”
“I’m afraid your plan would involve great loss of life without any certainty of success. I’m sorry, Julia, but I can’t adopt it.” Ulys halted and took both her hands in his. “You needn’t worry. I’ll move upon Vicksburg, and I’ll take it too.”
“I know you will, but when?”
“When the time is right and not an hour before. You must never forget that each and every one of my soldiers has a mother, wife, or sweetheart whose life is as dear to them as mine is to you.”
“But Adjutant General Lorenzo Thomas has been sent to relieve you for inaction. Everyone in Memphis talks of it.”
“Then everyone in Memphis is wrong.” He kissed her cheek and cupped her chin in his hand. “The president sent Adjutant General Thomas here to devise a plan for taking care of the contraband—the newly freed slaves.”
“Are you sure?” asked Julia. “Perhaps that’s another ruse.”
“I’m sure. We’ve already spoken about it.”
“Thank goodness.” Julia sighed and pressed a hand to her brow. “I can’t tell you what a relief this is.”
“I didn’t realize you were so concerned about the plight of freedmen.”
“Don’t tease, Ulys. You know I mean that I’m glad you aren’t going to be relieved of your command.” She thought for a moment. “Although I do feel for the slaves. I can only imagine how it must feel to find oneself suddenly at liberty after a lifetime of servitude. Where does one even begin? It must be terrifying.”
“But also exhilarating.” Ulys studied her. “I’m glad that you can imagine how they might feel, Julia. Try to do more of this.” Before Julia could ask him what he meant, he added, “I’m also glad you’ve arrived in time to witness the running of the blockade.”
Julia gasped and seized his arm. “Is that what you mean to do?”
Ulys nodded. “I’ve ordered three transports prepared. Tonight after dark, they’ll go silently down the river as far as possible, then put on all steam, fly past Vicksburg and its batteries, and end up exactly where I want to use them, south of the city.”
“Are you going with them?”
“Not this time. I thought we could watch from the river as they set out, though, if you’d like.”
Julia nodded eagerly, her heart pounding with excitement—even as she realized that Ulys had let her go on and on urging him to action, and had even pretended to consider her strategy, though all the while he intended to move that very evening.
“Admiral David Porter insists on taking two or more gunboats as escort and to return the rebel fire,” said Ulys. “He’s a gallant fellow, and he says it would look bad if they ran past without returning the rebel broadside.”
Julia felt a swift thrill of alarm. “Then the gunboats will be mostly for show?”
“Mostly,” Ulys agreed, but he had hesitated a moment too long, and she understood what he did not say: This was a military exercise, and although every precaution would be taken, the potential always existed for something to go dangerously awry.
She was ashamed that she had, even for a moment, considered the running of the blockade a spectacle for her entertainment, like the foolish citizens of Washington City who had set out from the capital in carriages with picnic hampers to watch the Battle of Bull Run. She was Mrs. Grant, the general’s wife, and she had seen enough of war to know better.
As evening approached, Ulys escorted Julia and the children aboard the Henry Von Phul, where they were met by many officers and several of their wives. The Grants dined with them on board the transport, and after nightfall, the ship moved out on the river just out of range of the rebel batteries on the bluffs high above the opposite shore.
Everyone, including the children, quietly stole out onto the deck into the clear, moonless night, crowding the rail, shawls and overcoats drawn close against the night air and the steady wind. They watched as the Union flotilla stealthily advanced from Milliken’s Bend, a thick, black mass lost in shadow.
Suddenly the rebel battery between Vicksburg and Warrenton roared to life, and an enormous splash rose just ahead of Admiral Porter’s flagship. Then a shower of detonations boomed all along the line, rockets burst fore and aft, and geysers of water shot into the air and rained down upon them, sparkling in the lights from the rockets and shells.
“Pa!” Jesse shouted, clutching his father’s leg. The Union gunboats ran close to the bluffs and opened fire, but the rebel assault continued unabated. Again and again the flotilla was hit, yet it moved ever forward. Nellie shrieked and buried her face in Julia’s skirt; gaze riveted on the transports, flinching at every explosion, Julia stroked her daughter’s head and murmured comforts lost in the thunder of cannon. Fred and Buck stood together on her other side, pale, openmouthed with awe, determined to stand their ground though they jumped at each scream of the rockets.
Suddenly a ten-inch shell pierced the boiler of the Union transport ship Henry Clay and it went up with an earsplitting bang. Julia watched in horror as fire spread to its barges, sending up
sheets of flame. All the while, more and more light shone down upon the ships in the river, as if day were breaking in sudden increments. Sulfurous smoke filled the air. Tearing her gaze from the transports, instinctively pulling Nellie closer, Julia looked to the opposite shore and saw that the rebels had lit bonfires and set houses ablaze on the east bluff to illuminate the ships on the river below.
And yet the Union flotilla pushed on, though the rebels poured shot and shell down upon them—and suddenly she realized that for some time, the barrage had struck only water. The gunboats and transports had passed out of range. The deadly batteries fell silent. The fiery beacons on the east bluffs were extinguished. A murmur of excitement went up from the officers aboard the Henry Von Phul, but Julia waited, her gaze flitting from Ulys’s face to the bluffs to the darkness into which the flotilla had disappeared.
The sulfurous smoke dissipated. From the riverbanks, katydids and frogs resumed their summer songs.
“Admiral Porter is to be congratulated,” Ulys said quietly.
The Henry Von Phul retreated to a more prudent distance to await official reports from Admiral Porter. Miraculously, although there were numerous injuries, no lives had been lost on the Union side.
Ulys was moving his army south of Vicksburg, and he would soon open siege in earnest.
Chapter Twelve
APRIL–AUGUST 1863
Jule had never witnessed a sight more terrifying and exhilarating than the running of the blockade. The flotilla had carried with it not only armaments and supplies, but her most ardent hopes and wishes as well. When Vicksburg fell, the Confederacy would be divided. The rebellion would be put down, the war would end, and slavery would crumble. She and Gabriel and all their colored brethren would at last be free, not only in rebel lands but everywhere.
Mrs. Grant and Madame Jule Page 17
