On To Richmond

by Ginny Dye

  Robert looked for a long moment and then turned away, struggling to control the nausea. He pressed on resolutely, his men silent behind him.

  Then suddenly in the distance, he and his men saw a flash of movement. Robert welcomed any action to take his mind off the horror around him.

  “After them, men!”

  With a whoop his men charged forward.

  Robert could see the shadows of men fleeing through the woods, trying to lose themselves in the cloud of smoke. Running forward, he grabbed the reins of a sturdily-built bay gelding and leapt into the saddle. Within moments he was leading the charge into the woods. Suddenly he pulled back on the reins and brought his mount to an abrupt halt. “You there! Behind that tree. Come out!”

  Silence met his loud command. He waved his men into position. “If you don’t come out now, I will order my men to shoot,” he commanded. He didn’t want any more death, but he wasn’t going to put his men at risk. Several of the men behind him lowered to one knee and raised their rifles to their shoulders.

  Suddenly a voice rose from behind a tree. “Don’t shoot!” it pleaded. “We’re coming out.” Slowly, five men edged from behind the trees, their hands reaching for the sky. Their blue uniforms were tattered and torn. All of them were covered with filth and grime. One was clutching a bandage to his arm to control the flow of blood from an earlier wound.

  “You are now prisoners of the Confederate Army,” Robert said crisply. “Fall in!”

  Robert continued to move forward. In just minutes they were out of the woods and once more on the road. As they moved along, the scene in front of them began to change. Scattered among the remnants of a fleeing army were the souvenirs of a panicked northern citizenry. Loud laughter rang from his men as they held up picnic hampers, ladies slippers, and colorful parasols. Further searching revealed men’s top hats, elegant field glasses, and baskets of sandwiches. There were more than a few overturned buggies.

  Robert shook his head in amazement. The people of Washington, D.C. must have driven out to the battlefield for an afternoon of amusement, believing their troops would sorely defeat the Southern army on the other side of the river.

  “If that don’t beat all!” Pickens muttered as he picked up yet another pink parasol. “Those folks must be plumb crazy.”

  A sudden movement in the woods to his left caught Robert’s eye. He said nothing, just waved a few of his men in that direction. Moments later he heard one of his men shout for him. Robert quickly rode to join them. What he saw caused him to rein his gelding in abruptly.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  The elegantly dressed man before him looked a little worse for wear. His top hat was missing, and his long-tailed coat was torn in several places. His white shirt was covered with stains, he was missing one shoe, and his face was covered with smudges. Fear glazed his eyes, but he stepped forward confidently.

  “My name is Edward Mullins,” he said a bit pompously.

  “Well, Mr. Edward Mullins. What the devil are you doing here in these woods?” Robert kept his voice cutting.

  The pompous look disappeared from Mullins’ face. “I came here to watch the battle. I am a banker in Washington. My horse and buggy ran off. ” The pomposity returned. “I happen to be a very important man!”

  “Good!” Robert said with a grin. “That means I will be escorting a very important prisoner back to the South.”

  “Surely you don’t mean to take me as a prisoner!” Mullins gasped. “What threat am I to you? I am not a soldier. I am a citizen of the United States.”

  “Then you should have had enough sense to stay off a battlefield,” Robert retorted. “Add him to the rest of the prisoners,” he said shortly before turning to ride away.

  It was after dark when Robert arrived back at Manassas Junction with his men and the twenty prisoners they had rounded up. All of them were caked with dust and were so thirsty their tongues were swollen. Many of his men rode horses they had picked up on the way. His prisoners stumbled in exhaustion.

  He had done the best he could - allowing them to stop at mud puddles and fill canteens with water to pass among themselves. It wasn’t much, but at least it was humane. He had never been in charge of prisoners before.

  The appearance of Confederate campfires, casting yellow light across the field cheered him somewhat. Surely there would be food. They had bypassed a mountain of food on the road as they had rounded up their prisoners, but none of it had been eaten. There had been strict orders not to touch any of it in case it had been deliberately poisoned before the army had fled.

  Robert was dismounting when Edward Mullins moved over to him. “See here. This really is ridiculous. I demand that you take me to your commander at once. You simply cannot hold a citizen as a prisoner-of -war.”

  Robert had lost all patience. He glared at the indignant man in front of him and snapped, “You people thought you could finish us off in one battle. You were wrong. We have won. You happened to be on the wrong side, and now you are our prisoner.” He paused and then smiled briefly. “Enjoy your stay in Virginia, Mr. Mullins.” Touching his hand to his head, he moved away.

  All he wanted was a good meal and a night’s sleep.

  Sleep eluded him as he gazed up at the sky. A sudden thunderstorm had washed the caked dirt off his body and had driven the foggy smoke into the ground. A hot meal had restored some of his strength. But nothing had removed the stench and horror from his soul. He had never stared death in the face the way he had today. He had seen his father die, but he had not seen the bloated condition of a blackening body before. He had never climbed over abandoned bodies and carcasses of horses. He had never listened to the screams of wounded and dying men.

  “Carrie...” he whispered into the dark night.

  Even the image of her lovely face did nothing to release the agony of his heart. Yes, they had won - but at what cost? And what cost remained to be paid?

  It was going to be a long war.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Opal moved her feet in time to the music pouring from Eddie’s fiddle. She’d been at her cousin’s house for only a few weeks, but already she felt like one of the family. A wide smile lighted her face as little Sadie, her beautiful eyes snapping with delight, played a little ditty with her spoons. Spoonin’ had always been one of her favorite things. She leaned back in her chair as Susie’s clear soprano burst forth into song.

  Swing low, sweet chariot

  Coming for to carry me home

  Swing low

  Sweet chariot

  Coming for to carry me home.

  I looked over Jordan

  And what did I see

  Coming for to carry me home

  A band of angels coming after me

  Coming for to carry me home.

  Tears sprang into Opal’s eyes as Susie’s voice transported her back to the small clearing in the quarters. Barely a night had gone by that voices had not been raised in song that would float over the tree tops and give them all hope that someday things would be different. Opal could hear it - Moses deep bass reaching for the stars, Old Sarah’s sweet voice instilling hope where there was none...

  She missed them. Oh, how she missed them! She was happy where she was, but never a day went by that she didn’t think of her friends on Cromwell Plantation and wonder how they were doing.

  “Funny ain’t it? How white folks ain’t got no idea what we’re really saying?”

  Opal brushed away the sparkle of tears and turned to smile at Fanny. “Good thing!” she said fervently. “They talk about how good it is we darkies have our little songs to keep us happy. What they don’t know can’t hurt them,” she added with a quiet laugh.

  Once again Opal’s thoughts translated her back to the quarters. The very song Susie was singing now had become a mainstay of the quarters the summer before - especially after Miles, Sadie, Jasmine and the rest had escaped. Humming along with Susie, she interpreted as she sang.

  Swing low, sweet
chariot

  The Underground Railroad’s wagon that had taken her friends to freedom had indeed been a sweet chariot.

  Coming for to carry me home

  Where but up north could slaves find the freedom that would give them a true home?

  Swing low

  If the sweet chariot swung low, it would come close to where a slave was waiting.

  Sweet chariot

  Coming for to carry me home.

  I looked over Jordan

  The Jordan could mean many things, but it always stood for the border between the North and the South.

  And what did I see

  Coming for to carry me home

  A band of angels coming after me

  What better description of an angel than the conductors of the Underground Railroad who led slaves to freedom?

  Coming for to carry me home.

  Susie’s captivating voice fell away to a whisper as her eyes closed in longing.

  Opal knew what she was thinking. The two had become close friends since the day she had first walked in the house. Just then Susie opened her eyes, stared at Opal, and closed one in a long slow wink.

  Opal nodded quickly and then rose from her chair.

  “Be careful,” Fannie warned. Her warm eyes were concerned but also full of an unspoken confidence.

  Opal drew daily strength and courage from Fannie’s confidence in her. As Susie broke out into song once again, and Eddie resumed his loud playing, Opal slipped through the sagging back door and down the rickety steps. She shuddered slightly as she glanced westward and saw the sun dip below the horizon. She had wanted to leave earlier, but the plans had called for her to be on the outskirts of town at precisely seven o’clock. If she had gotten there early, her loitering would have attracted unwelcome attention. But now she must move quickly. She knew the driver would wait no more than five minutes before moving on. Everything depended upon her being on time.

  “How do, Opal?”

  Opal nodded pleasantly to the thin black man lounging on the stairs of his back porch. “Hello, Abram. Beautiful afternoon isn’t it?” she asked pleasantly, trying not to show any nervousness in her voice. Nodding her head, she continued to walk. Not too fast, she warned herself silently. And not too slow... She must look as if she were simply out to do an errand. Shifting her basket on her arm, she balanced it carefully with her other hand. The cargo she carried was precious.

  Opal’s mind raced as she moved down the dusty road. The cries of children, the barking of dogs, and the crowing of roosters surrounded her unheeded. The last few weeks had flown by. Her job at the state armory was boring and mundane, but at least it wasn’t the back-breaking labor of working in the fields. It was hard work, and she reached the end of each twelve-hour day exhausted, but she had never experienced a thrill quite like the one when she was handed her first week’s pay. She had merely stared at it in joy and had then hurried home. Half of it she had given to Fannie and Eddie for her keep. The other half she had carefully stashed under her mattress.

  Today, Sunday, was her only day off. She had joined the family for church that morning and then laughed and talked her way through the sumptuous lunch that followed. When Eddie had broken out his fiddle, she had moved to her favorite chair to relax and think. And to get ready...

  This was the second time she had been asked to meet the driver on the edge of town. The first time she’d had no idea what was so important about the basket of eggs and vegetables she had been asked to deliver. There had been no talk at all. She had stepped down from the sidewalk just as he had arrived, silently handed him the basket she carried, and taken the one full of tomatoes he had offered in return. He had simply nodded solemnly and driven on. The whole escapade had taken less than ten seconds. Then Opal had retraced her footsteps. Eddie and Fannie had welcomed her back as a hero, but she was totally clueless as to what she had done.

  Until this morning.

  Susie’s eyes had been shining when she had returned from her job the evening before. She hadn’t said anything - just had that shining look.

  Opal had stood it for as long as she could. When the two were walking home together from church, she finally could stand it no longer. “Why are you looking so happy, girl? You look like you just got the biggest piece of the pie.”

  Susie grinned widely, then looked at her closely, and grew somber. After a moment of gazing at her, she nodded her head slowly. “You need to know, Opal. Daddy said it would be better if you didn’t ‘cause it might scare you and make you act nervous, but Mamma and I think you ought to know.”

  Opal just looked at her and waited. She had been hoping that someday they would take her into their confidence. She was happy to do what they asked without knowing more than that she was helping the cause, but she knew she had proven herself if they were going to tell her more.

  Susie dropped her voice to a whisper. “The lady I work for. Mrs. Hamilton. She ain’t what she seems.” She paused and then continued. “She been living here in Richmond all her life, but she be for the Union. And she hates slavery. She wants to see all the slaves go free. She’s what they call an abolitionist.”

  Opal stared at her, too surprised to say anything.

  Susie nodded her head. “I was mighty surprised when I found out, too. She be a spy is what she be!”

  “Mrs. Hamilton?” Opal asked in disbelief, keeping her voice low and looking around to make sure no one could overhear their conversation. She could easily picture the elegant woman who lived in a large house just blocks from where Marse Cromwell lived on Church Hill. She had been a respected part of Richmond society for years.

  “Mrs. Hamilton.” Susie repeated firmly. Then looking around carefully, she lowered her head even more and continued. “I didn’t know what was so important in that basket until yesterday. She must be trusting me more ‘cause she let me help her. She came back from being at that Spotswood Hotel all day and disappeared into her room. When she came out, she had a single sheet of paper. When she saw me, she asked me to get her a bunch of eggs out of the box. She seemed to be in an awful hurry.” Susie looked off, remembering.

  Opal fought the urge to shake the story out of her. Susie was mature for her age, but she still loved to accentuate the drama of whatever was going on in her young life. Still - she was telling her. Opal would be patient.

  “Well, anyway, Mrs. Hamilton, she took out a real sharp pin and poked some holes in one of them eggs. Then, real careful like, she sucked the yolk right out of it! Once it was all out, she took that sheet of paper and tore it up into little strips. Then, real slow, she rolled them tiny pieces of paper up and stuffed it into them holes.”

  Stopping, she looked over for Opal’s reaction. She must have been satisfied by the wide-eyed look on her face because she only paused long enough for a breath and then kept going. “Once all that paper was in there, she took some glue and filled them holes up till the egg almost looked good as new. Then she put it on the bottom of the basket with the other eggs and told me to make sure you did your delivery tonight.”

  Opal waited for more, but Susie was done. “But what was on that sheet of paper?”

  “You expectin’ her to tell me?” Susie snorted. “Mrs. Hamilton, she’s got to be real careful. They done started putting people in jail for having Union sympathies around this town. She sure don’t want to go to prison.” Then she paused, a slightly fearful look in her eyes. “I don’t want to be going to prison, neither. If any of us be found out, my daddy said we wouldn’t never have even knowed the meaning of trouble till then.”

  They had reached the house then and gone in for lunch.

  Opal had been thinking about the story ever since. Now she knew why her errand was so important. It also made her afraid to think what would happen if someone knew she carried a secret message to the enemy on her arm. Swallowing hard, she maintained her steady pace and kept her eyes on the dusty road just in front of her. Her walk passed without incident.

  Several minutes passed
before she ventured to look up the road. Nothing was moving toward her. She looked at the three carriages already stopped on the road, but none matched the one she had gone to the week before. She recognized none of the faces beginning to stare at her questioningly.

  She tried to maintain her casual pose as her heart began to beat faster. Where was the driver? What was she supposed to do with her basket? Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the disappearing glow of the sun. The thought of impending darkness made her heart race more. She well remembered Sam’s warning about being out after dark. She had made sure to be safe inside her cousin’s house every night. If she didn’t hand off her delivery soon, she wasn’t going to make it.

  Anxiously now, she peered down the road again. The other drivers were being open about their curiosity. She glanced behind her at the horizon again. The driver should have been here. She was waiting too long. Something must have happened to thwart their careful plan. If she didn’t leave now, she might not make it back in time. But what if he came and she wasn’t there? Would the message do any good if it was received later?

  Finally, she had no choice. Fighting to control her feelings of fear, Opal turned and began to walk back the way she had come. She had gone almost a hundred yards when she heard the rattle of wheels. Jerking her head around, she gasped. The carriage was coming. The red coat the driver wore was her signal and she recognized the carriage from the week before. She had to get back!

  She turned and once more moved toward the meeting place, all the time aware of the darkening sky. She retraced her steps and tried to walk casually as she approached the carriage. Wordlessly, she held the basket out to him.

  The man’s dark face was impassive, but his eyes glowed with appreciation. “Sorry I’m late,” he whispered between tight lips.

  Opal nodded, the knowledge of his appreciation giving her a warm glow. She had done her job well. She allowed herself a brief smile and then turned quickly away, clutching the basket of tomatoes he had handed her. She must hurry! Head down, so as not to draw attention to herself, Opal walked quickly up the road. Not too fast, she cautioned herself again. You have time... You have time... A glance at the sun told her she was wrong.