Spring Will Come

by Ginny Dye

He pushed forward with powerful strokes and swam slightly upstream as he made for the other side. Still the river pulled him along. His muscles ached and screamed their protest as he threw all of his strength into the effort. He fought fear as the river tugged at him, pulled him under, and then thrust him back to the surface. Finally, hating his weakness, he turned back. It would do him no good to reach the other side. All he would do was sit on the other side, separated from the cavalry until Stuart figured something out. There was no way they could cross the river here.

  Stuart was waiting for him when he pulled himself out of the water. Robert managed a weary smile. “I think we’re caught, sir.”

  Stuart frowned but didn’t say anything. Robert knew he was in deep thought. Silence fell on the column as other men tried to disprove what Robert already knew. A few men who were excellent swimmers were able to make it to the other side, but their efforts made it obvious another way would have to be found.

  As the morning wore on, the sun rose high in the sky, bringing with it fresh fears of a Federal attack. Several plans were conceived but quickly aborted. Finally Stuart gave the order. “We will rebuild Forge Bridge.”

  Robert pushed aside his fatigue and threw his energy into the job. A large, abandoned warehouse became the means of their salvation. Supervising the exhausted men in his unit, Robert directed them to use battering rams to knock down the frame of the hulking structure. When it was down, they lifted the main timbers and carried them to the river. The watching troopers held their breath as the retrieved wood was pushed across on a skiff and then with great effort lifted up to the abutments, the only structures left of the burned-out bridge.

  “We made it!” an excited trooper yelled as the timbers settled down securely on the abutments with just a few inches to spare on either side. A shout of celebration rose into the air as renewed hope glistened in every face.

  Once more the men sprang into action. More wood was hauled from the building to floor the bridge. Within minutes the column began to flow over the new bridge. Even the guns made it safely across. Robert watched as the last men rode across then grinned as five men rushed forward with flames to fire the bridge. There would be no way for the Yankees to pursue them. There was a deep sense of satisfaction as the Confederates stood quietly watching what they had so quickly built shoot flames into the sky.

  Robert turned Granite to join the rear guard of the cavalry disappearing into the woods when a shot rang out. He spun Granite around and laughed aloud at the sight of Federal uniforms on the opposing bank. “Too late, boys!” he yelled defiantly as the men with him whooped in laughter and urged their horses into a swift gallop.

  Carrie made no effort to hide her excitement as she moved with the flow of people to the heart of Richmond. She had received word that Robert was with the cavalry returning as heroes to the city. Stories of their escapades flew around like missiles as crowds of excited Richmonders pressed forward to view the returning men.

  Carrie had at first been frightened when her father had burst through the door the night before. He had barely been able to contain his excitement as he told her of General Stuart’s daring exploits. Stuart, once he was convinced his troops were safe, had ridden ahead to report to General Lee.

  “The city needs some good news, Carrie,” Thomas had said hopefully. “With the exception of Stonewall Jackson’s victory in the valley, there has been nothing but bad news for too long. Young Stuart’s bold mission will be like a tonic to the people.”

  Her father had been right. Excited voices rang through the air as each person tried to outdo the other with what they had heard about the mission.

  “That young Stuart rode all the way around McClellan’s army,” an old man boasted, waving his cane in the air for emphasis. “I reckon we can handle those Yankees all right. I bet there are some mighty red-faced men outside the city right now.”

  “I reckon they’ll just turn around and head back to the North!” another cried. “Why, if they can’t handle twelve hundred cavalry troopers, how are they going to handle General Lee’s army?”

  “I heard the Union army was crossing onto that bridge when they set fire to it. I wish I’d been there to see those Yankees dropping into that river.”

  Carrie looked at Janie and laughed. “I’m glad I know what really happened. What they did was incredible, but if I listened to many of these stories, I would begin to think our soldiers were gods.”

  Janie laughed with her. “It’s good to hear the people like this. Who cares if they embellish the stories a little? It makes them happy, and, goodness knows, there is little enough to be happy about right now.”

  Carrie knew she was right. Many of the wounded soldiers had recovered and been sent back to the front, but the hospitals were still crowded with men too sick and weak to go back into battle. The dead had finally all been buried or sent off to their own states for burial. The stench of death was beginning to lift from the city, but everyone was aware it could be renewed at any moment. McClellan had not budged from his position outside Richmond, and even though General Lee had dug in securely around the city, no one was relaxing.

  “It’s been ages since I’ve been down to the city,” Janie said, breaking into her thoughts. “I feel like my whole world is the hospital. It seems strange to know there is another world out here.”

  Carrie nodded agreement and gazed around her. She had heard from her father that shortages were beginning to be felt, but she couldn’t tell it from looking around. She knew many of the people crowding into Richmond had brought money with them. People were buying, but the supply was having a hard time keeping up with the demand. “There are so many new shops,” she commented. “And so many of the old ones almost look like they’re new.”

  Janie shrugged. “If things don’t change soon, everything will start to look a lot different.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “From what I hear, the blockade is getting harder to run. It’s still possible to get most things in other places, but between the blockade and McClellan’s army perched out there, goods just aren’t getting through. Not to mention the speculators,” she added darkly.

  “Speculators?” Carrie was beginning to feel she really was spending too much time in the hospital. The world she was staring at seemed a foreign one. It helped to remember Janie had been here since the beginning while she was still on the plantation until recently, but that didn’t change her desire to understand her surroundings.

  Janie nodded and frowned. “Inflation is becoming rampant. There is no end to the number of people in town willing to buy supplies and then stick them away until their prices go up. When the speculators sell them, they make quite a handsome profit. I’ve heard that something bought one day will return a hundred percent profit in just a week.”

  “But people can’t pay those kinds of prices!” Carrie protested. “Most of the men are off fighting. How do they expect the women to feed their families and care for them?”

  “I’m afraid the segments of our population interested in speculation are not very distressed at the idea of families’ starving. Their priorities are on how much money they can make before that happens,” Janie responded angrily.

  Carrie sighed as one more cruel reality of the war became clear to her. She believed what her friend was saying, but from what she could tell, there was not yet a shortage of supplies. Carrie stopped in front of one shop’s window and examined its contents. Colorful bonnets rested on the legs of cavalry boots. Bright ribbons adorned crossed rifles and dingy umbrellas. There were loaves of bread, packages of food, gloves, packs of cards, prayer books, and canteens.

  Janie seemed to read her thoughts. “Check out some of the prices.”

  Carrie leaned forward to read the price on a can of coffee sitting temptingly toward the front. “Four dollars!” she exclaimed. “For coffee? No wonder my father has given it up.”

  “That’s just the beginning. Good tea will cost between eighteen to twenty dollars a pound, b
utter almost two dollars. Corn is fifteen dollars a barrel ,and wheat is four-fifty per bushel.” Her voice hardened. “It’s a crime. These people have so many hardships already. They have given so much. If this war doesn’t end soon, there will be a lot of people starving.”

  Carrie stared at her, her excitement over seeing Robert dimmed as she absorbed her friend’s grim words.

  Janie looked chagrined and reached out her hand to grab Carrie’s arm. “I’m so sorry. There is enough trouble in the world without talking about more. I didn’t mean to spoil your day. Let’s move on. Robert and the rest of the men will be here soon.”

  Carrie allowed her friend to take her arm and move her up the street, but her thoughts were troubled. Now she understood the things she had overheard her father’s boarders talking about a few nights ago. She had only caught snatches of it, but she’d heard enough to realize even people in the government thought the fortunes of the Confederacy were declining. The conditions in Richmond worsened daily. Murders, looting, arson, and assault were reported by the press almost daily. Such lawlessness, especially for native Richmonders who had never experienced it before, was very disturbing. When joined with news of defeats and losses, uncontrollable inflation, and scare food, it was little wonder people were beginning to question what a just cause had to do with this.

  “Here they come, Carrie!” Janie exclaimed and pulled her faster.

  In spite of herself, Carrie felt her original excitement return. Cheers began to swell from the crowd, and music blared forth from the band. She leaned forward and caught her first glimpse of the horses moving up the street. Where was Robert?

  “Those poor men look exhausted,” Janie murmured. “But aren’t they proud!” she added in delight.

  Carrie smiled. Janie was right. Even the horses seemed to pick their heads up a little as the cheers swelled and soared over their heads. She watched as men straightened their backs and held their heads high. Suddenly she caught a glimpse of Robert on Granite. His face was lined with fatigue, and she could tell Granite was tired, but their eyes were bright. Her heart tightened with pride and love. Suddenly she found herself cheering wildly with the rest. She might not agree with this crazy war, but these men had done a noble, brave deed. They deserved to have it recognized and applauded.

  As if he were able to pick her voice from the crowd, Robert turned and looked straight into Carrie’s eyes. Tears filled her eyes as his face lit with a huge grin. Suddenly his back was even straighter, his head a little higher. Carrie’s heart swelled with tenderness. For all his bravery and courage, Robert still needed her love and approval. Her mother had often told her there was a side to her father that would always be a little boy. Carrie hadn’t understood it then. Now she did.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Moses leaned back against a big oak tree and gnawed on the hardtack he had just pulled from his haversack. It was easy to understand why the rock hard mixture of flour and water had been given the nickname of sheet-iron crackers. Still, it was food. He had never thought soldiering would be an easy job.

  “Hey! Moses!”

  Moses looked up as Joe, one of the men in his unit, sauntered up. “Yes, sir?”

  Joe squatted down next to him. “Captain Jones is asking for you.”

  Without asking any questions, Moses stuffed his hardtack back into his haversack and rose easily.

  “Moses...”

  Moses looked down at Joe and waited.

  “I just wanted to say thanks for helping us find fresh water. A lot of the other men are real sick from the water. Hanging out in this crazy swamp is going to kill more of them than all the Rebel guns together,” Joe said bitterly.

  Moses nodded. “Bad water can do a man in.” He had watched as scores of men dropped from typhoid and malaria. Sickness was rampant in the camps.

  “How’d you know where to find it?”

  “My daddy taught me when I was just a little kid. Told me it might come in handy someday.” He didn’t add that his daddy had told him he needed to know how to find good water in case he ever had a chance to escape. His daddy had dreamed of freedom for as long as Moses could remember.

  “Is your father still alive? Still on one of the plantations?”

  All any of the soldiers knew was that Moses had lived on one of the plantations near Richmond. They knew he had been accepted as a spy for the Union because he knew the area so well. Moses had figured that was all they needed to know. Now here was Joe asking questions. He decided to take a chance and answer honestly. “My daddy is dead. Hung by the men who caught him when he was trying to escape.” There was no bitterness in his voice. He had made peace with his past long ago.

  “I’m sorry,” Joe said simply. “Slavery is a terrible thing.”

  “Not all the Union soldiers feel that way. From what I can tell, a lot of them think I should run on back to the plantation and be a good slave so this war can end.”

  Joe shrugged. “Different people feel different ways. I know there are some Southerners who think slavery is an evil thing. From what I can tell, it doesn’t matter what part of the country you’re from. It’s what’s in your heart that counts. There are some people who just want to feel power over other people. I guess it makes them feel better about themselves if they have someone to look down on.”

  Moses looked at him thoughtfully. He had been right to trust Joe. This was a man who thought things through. He extended his hand. “Thank you.”

  Joe nodded and shook his hand firmly. “The captain is waiting.”

  Moses nodded and strode away. The deep loneliness in his heart had been assuaged just a little. He knew he had made a friend. As he made his way through camp, he allowed his thoughts to focus on Rose. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she safe? Part of him longed for the days he and his beautiful wife had lived with Aunt Abby in Philadelphia. They had been happy there. Their new freedom had been worth all it took to accomplish it. The miserable months of escape had faded into a dim memory.

  Then he looked around the camp and knew he was right where he was supposed to be. He had worked hard to be accepted as one of the first black spies into the Union army. He fully believed that one day black soldiers would help fight the war, but it was not now. He was doing his best to show blacks could be valuable to the war effort. Everyone must make sacrifices if any real changes were going to be made. He could deal with loneliness as long as he knew he was making a difference.

  Moses drew up short when he reached Captain Jones’ tent and saw his commander’s head bent over a piece of paper. He didn’t want to interrupt him.

  Captain Jones looked up when Moses’ shadow fell over him. “Moses, thank you for coming. Come in.”

  Moses ducked his head and eased his massive frame into the tent. “Yes, sir.” Then he waited for the captain to speak.

  Captain Jones looked down at the sheet of paper for a few more minutes then lifted his head, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and settled back into his chair. He reached for his pipe and took several long pulls while he stared out over the bustling activity of the camp. “General McClellan needs more information.”

  Moses leaned a little closer. It had been almost two weeks since the Union had clashed with Confederate troops outside of Richmond. Was General McClellan going to make his next move soon? McClellan had claimed a glorious victory, but nothing had changed as far as Moses could tell. Both armies were still stationed where they had been before the two days of fighting. The only difference was that thousands of Union soldiers were horribly wounded, with many of them being transported by boat back to Washington’s hospitals. If that was a glorious victory, then he surely didn’t want to see the results of a defeat.

  “McClellan wants more information from behind the Confederate lines.”

  Moses continued to wait. He would not respond until he knew what the captain had in mind. He had learned a long time ago to listen as long as he could before he was forced to say something.

  “I have heard of
other spies infiltrating the Confederate camps, finding out as much as they can, and then returning to our side. I told McClellan that if anyone could do it, you could, Moses.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Moses fought to control the pounding of his heart. Roaming the southern countryside with a unit of Union soldiers was one thing. But going back alone, into the world that once held him captive, was another.

  Captain Jones stared at him thoughtfully. “I want you to sneak into a Rebel camp. Live there for a week. Find out as much as you can. Numbers of soldiers, what their guns are like, what their plans are. You’ve told me that Southerners tend to talk freely around their coloreds.”

  “Yas sir, they figur’ us darkies ain’t got no mind of our own.” Moses consciously slid back into the slave dialect he had fought so hard to discard. Not many people in the South had any use for an educated black man. If he was going undercover as a slave, he would have to work very hard to make sure he talked like one.

  Captain Jones grinned appreciatively. “You’ll do it then?”

  Moses nodded. “I told you I would do whatever I could to help the Union win. If that means going back into slavery for a week, then so be it.”

  “Can you do it, Moses? You used to live around here. There aren’t many men your size. Your height and massive build are going to make you stand out. What if someone recognizes you? Rebels don’t take too kindly to slaves escaping and working for the enemy.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, sir. I guess I’ll just have to take my chances. When do I leave?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Moses thought a moment. “I’ll leave tonight. It will be easier to sneak into the camps when it’s dark.” He paused for a long moment. “Can you do something for me, Captain?”

  “Such as?”

  “If I don’t come back -- will you get word to my wife, Rose? I want her to know what happened.” His heart caught at the idea of never seeing her again. Had they gone through all they had to reach freedom, only to have it end up with him back in slavery – probably rotting in a prison or hanging from a noose?