“Women, yes.”
She laughed. “Are all the men in Louisiana as “accustomed” as you?”
“My brothers and I are.”
“Are there any women left unmoved once you and your brothers get through with them?”
“Hardly any.”
“Well, then you should be glad we met.”
“Why?”
“Because no man should get everything he desires.”
“You’re challenging me again,” he cautioned.
Sable simply smiled and walked on.
Once they reached the original plantation house, with its tall white columns, Raimond urged her to let him take her inside so she could bypass the large crowd lined up outside. She politely declined. “No one will appreciate me going ahead of them. They look as if they’ve been here quite some time. I’ll wait my turn.”
“Challenging, beautiful, smart, and stubborn,” he informed her. “Then I suppose I should go inside and get back to work. Will you at least come and clerk for me?”
Sable noticed the others in line listening to their conversation. “No,” she replied. “I’ll make my own way.”
He did not look convinced, but Sable paid him no mind. Working for him would undoubtedly cause gossip, and she didn’t need gossip trailing her to freedom. “Thank you for all your help, Major.”
“My pleasure. I will see you again, I’m sure. Au revoir, mademoiselle.”
He turned the stallion around and rode off toward the back of the house. The sprawling structure reminded Sable of the Fontaines’ white mansion. Thinking about them brought back the tragic memories of her last night there. Burying her grief over Mahti’s death, she silently waited her turn.
At the front of the line Sable stepped up to the table in the parlor and faced the sour-faced Black soldier seated there. “Name?” he asked.
“Sable Fontaine.”
“Were you a captive before coming here?”
“Yes.”
“Are you carrying information the generals might be interested in?”
“What sort of information?”
“Troop movements, rumors, locations of supply depots.”
“No.”
He finally looked up. “Is there someplace else you can go?”
The question confused her. “I don’t understand.”
“Is there someplace else you can stay besides here in the camp?”
“No, why?”
“We’ve more runaways here than we can provide for,” he stated bluntly. “People are sick and hungry. We’re encouraging folks to go elsewhere.”
“I’ve nowhere else to go.”
He kept his face expressionless, but she sensed her answer had not pleased him when he said, “Everybody here works to earn his keep. How do you intend to feed yourself, Miss Fontaine?”
Sable had to admit she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Well, I don’t know. What kind of work is there?”
“Do you have children?”
“No.”
“That’s something in your favor. Women on their own can take in sewing, rent themselves out to the locals, or find a protector.”
Sable blinked at that last choice. Surely he wasn’t encouraging her to become a woman of ill-repute!
“Are you a fancy girl?”
Sable blinked again. Did this man have any manners at all? Holding on to her patience, she replied stiffly, “No, I’m not a pleasure woman.”
“Then I’m assuming from your speech and appearance that you were a house servant. Can you do anything?”
Sable took offense again. “It depends on what that means. Yes, I did serve in the house, but I’m sure I can contribute in some way. What needs to be done here?”
“Do you like laundry?”
She looked into his flashing eyes and replied truthfully, “Not particularly, no.” As a ghost of a smile flitted across his full lips, she added, “But since I’ve admitted that, I assume that’s where I’ll be assigned.”
“Correct. You’ll find Mrs. Reese on the western edge of camp. Report there and she’ll put you to work.”
The man looked impatiently past her, then called out, “Next!”
Assuming she’d been dismissed, Sable turned on her heel and left.
Araminta was waiting outside, and Sable was certainly glad to see her. “Hello.”
“Hello to you too, Sable. I see you made it here all right.”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“Don’t thank me. I just do what I’m called to do. You and the major get along?”
“For the most part, yes. Why?”
“Just curious.”
Sable didn’t believe that for a minute. She had the strong sense that Araminta was trying to play matchmaker. “Tell me about this dream you had.”
“Let’s get something to eat first. Hungry?”
“Extremely.”
Araminta chuckled, then gestured. “This way.”
As Sable followed her new friend through the crowded camp, she saw soldiers, both Black and White, dressed in the Union blue, driving wagons, patrolling, and practicing drills. “Seeing all these Black soldiers is still amazing to me,” she said.
“They make you proud, don’t they? There’s almost two hundred thousand of them helping Mr. Lincoln win this war.”
On the fringe of the main encampment, Araminta had erected a small camp that consisted of a small canvas tent and a cook fire. The women shared a breakfast of hardtack and coffee. Sable had never tasted hardtack before. The small, square Union staple was nothing more than hard, stale bread.
Araminta explained, “All the troops eat it. If you put it in your coffee, it’ll soften up a bit.”
Sable dunked an edge in the coffee and found it did help.
“The boys call them teeth dullers. Don’t eat them at night though.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t see if there’s worms in them. The boys call ’em worm castles too, just so you know.”
Sable’s eyes widened with alarm as she carefully surveyed the remaining portion in her hand.
Araminta chuckled.
Confident she hadn’t consumed any worms, Sable said, “Now tell me about this dream you had about me.”
“Not much to tell really. I had it about a year ago. I dreamed LeVeq and I were on one of his ships.”
“The major owns ships?”
“Quite a few, but in the dream, the ship he and I were on was in the middle of a terrible storm. Lightning was flashing, and the waves were rising higher than our heads. Then came the biggest wave we’d seen and when it crashed onto the deck, it left a chest behind.”
Sable’s brows knitted in confusion. “A chest?”
“Yes, a big, old sea chest. The major finally got it open and you stepped out!”
“Me!”
“You. Of course I didn’t know it was you at the time, but yes, Sable, you were in the chest.”
“Was there anything else in it?”
“Yep. A bunch of babies. Brown ones, Black ones, gold ones. They came spilling out like a bunch of puppies.”
Sable had never heard anything like this before in her life. “Babies?”
“Dozens of them.”
Sable smiled and shook her head. “Was there anything else?”
“Yes, a thin gold bracelet.”
Sable drew in a sharp breath.
“When the major placed it on your wrist, the sea calmed and the sun came out.”
Sable didn’t know what to think. Part of her wanted to show Araminta Mahti’s bracelet to see if it matched the one in the dream. But did she really want to know? she asked herself. She answered with a resounding no! “How did you find me at the old Dresden place?”
“Funny thing. I had a dream about that same chest a few days before we met. It was sitting in front of a burning house, and I could hear something knocking around inside it. When I opened it, a golden bird flew out. I chased it for a long time, then finally caught it outside a house that looked a lot
like the house where we met. When I got up that next morning, I set out to find that house. I had no idea where it was, or who or what I’d find there, but I knew something was waiting for me there.
“So you just up and went.”
“Sure did. Glad I did too.”
Sable smiled. She didn’t know how much of this tale she believed, but she was glad Araminta had believed it, otherwise they probably would never have met. “Babies, huh?”
“Yep, babies.”
Sable wondered if the dream meant she and the major were going to have children. She immediately decided that was something else she’d no desire to ask Araminta about. A change in topic seemed overdue. “Do you know why this is called a contraband camp?”
“It’s the word everyone is using to describe the slaves who escape to the army. It was first applied to runaways in May of ’61, when three male slaves deserted over to the Union forces stationed near Fortress Monroe, Virginia. The Union general Benjamin Butler took them in and let them stay.”
“That was very fair-minded of him,” Sable said.
“I agree, but a Confederate colonel arrived the following day waving a white flag of truce and demanding the return of his property.”
“What did Butler do?”
“Declined. Told the Reb colonel that because the state of Virginia had chosen to withdraw from the Union, all property of any kind was subject to confiscation, as in any war. The three slaves were termed contraband of war and sent to work building a Union bakehouse.”
“And that’s where the phrase comes from?”
“Yep. The phrase became a popular one with the Northern press and soon came to be applied to all Blacks seeking safety behind Union lines.”
“Interesting.”
According to Araminta, by July 1861, General Butler and his troops had become a beacon of hope—almost a thousand new contrabands had sought safety behind Union lines at Fortress Monroe. When the first full year of the war ended, there were thousands of additional contrabands following the Union armies, camped outside Washington and in the tidewater regions of Virginia and South Carolina. To the west, camps formed in Union-held territory on the Mississippi.
Araminta said, “At first, Butler’s decision to offer those slaves harbor didn’t sit well with the Washington politicians. Up until then runaways had been returned to their masters.”
Sable found that confusing. “It seems to me the Yankee politicians would have been better served by encouraging slaves to run, not returning them. After all, we slaves are—or shall I say were—the wheels on the Confederacy’s war train.”
“It took them a while before they finally figured that out.”
Having been a slave, Sable knew that the enslaved population hauled supplies to the Confederate troops, worked in cotton factories and in munitions plants. In addition to mining gold in North Carolina, iron in Kentucky, and salt in Virginia, they built railroads, raised food, and fortified defenses around the cities. In fact, the Southern government thought its “property” so vital to its plans, slaves had been drafted into the war effort before the call went out for the White fathers and sons of the South to take up arms.
“So all of the escaped slaves are in these camps?” Sable asked.
“Not all, but many. Some are being relocated to what the Union’s calling ‘home farms.’ They’re given land and seed so they can support their families.”
“Where’s the government getting the land?”
“Most of it’s confiscated Reb property.”
“I’ll wager the masters are real happy with that arrangement,” Sable cracked sarcastically.
Araminta grinned.
When Araminta asked Sable how the processing had gone, Sable offered only that she’d been assigned to the laundry. Mrs. Tubman peered at her for a moment, then said, “I’d’ve thought you’d been put to work clerking or something.”
“The laundry,” Sable repeated emotionlessly.
“Well, I’ll talk to the major about it later.”
“No. The soldier was very specific. The laundry will be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Sable nodded. “I’m certain.”
Araminta still looked puzzled, but said no more.
After breakfast, Araminta offered to show Sable the way to the laundry. They took a meandering route to give Sable a chance to see more of the camp that would serve as her new home. As they walked, Sable realized it was far larger and more crowded than she’d first thought. The tents were pitched so close together, one had to be careful to avoid stepping on bedding, tent poles, cooking fires, and small children. There were even more people than there were tents. Black people of all shades, ages, and sizes filled Sable’s vision wherever she looked. Some women nodded greetings, which she returned generously, while others sized her up without smiling. There were men digging trenches, children playing happily, and areas that were roped off. Armed soldiers were stationed at the ropes as if guarding against something.
“Probably typhoid or measles,” Araminta explained. “The area’s quarantined.”
“Are there doctors here?”
“Not nearly as many as we need. They put up a hospital of sorts in a house over behind the trees there, and the army does what it can, but the soldiers come first, as they should. I help out whenever I can. Once you get settled you might want to lend a hand too.”
Sable thought she would, then considered the poor souls who were forced to live behind the ropes. It chilled her to think they’d come all this way to freedom, only to contract a disease that might well kill them. She offered a quick prayer for them before following Araminta deeper into the camp.
They passed a grove of trees where a woman sat surrounded by a large group of children and adults. She appeared to be showing them pages in a book. Araminta explained she was one of the Northern missionary women who’d come South to help in the camps. This particular woman ran one of the camp schools.
Araminta made a detour so Sable could see the vast gardens that had been planted. She also showed her the camp graveyard. It reminded Sable very much of the one at home. There were very few markers. Most of the spots were memorialized with objects last used by the person interred. Spread out on the ground were broken pieces of crockery, spoons, combs, and bits of colored glass. She saw pieces of fabric, and in one spot a beautiful quilt had been staked down. Near the quilt stood a small but exquisitely carved wooden idol. It had the look of the motherland and made Sable think of Mahti.
The laundry was set up on the banks of a fairly wide creek. According to Araminta, access to such fresh water was one of the reasons the camp had been settled here. Sable was led past huge cauldrons filled with boiling water and the silent, watching women tending them. Yards and yards of rope had been strung between trees to form clotheslines. In spite of the still early hour, more than a few lines were already straining under the weight of bedding, army uniforms, union suits, and blankets. Sable smelled the lye and felt the heat coming off the vats, fed by stick fires underneath them. She watched a woman use a long length of wood to lift out a steaming mound of wash and transfer it to a neighboring vat to be rinsed.
This would be hard, grueling work, especially under a full sun. Sable silently and sarcastically thanked the processing soldier for the opportunity to work there.
Araminta turned Sable over to the head laundress, a kindly woman named Mrs. Reese, but before leaving she took Sable aside.
“I have to go do some looking around for the generals, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Sable tried not to let her disappointment show. “I’ll never be able to thank you for what you’ve done.”
“Sure you can. Just don’t squander your freedom.”
They shared a hug and Araminta smiled. “Stay on the path, Sable, and good things will happen.”
She waved and was gone.
Mrs. Reese turned out to be a surprisingly optimistic woman. She was big and brown and had a sprinkling of freckles acro
ss her nose. To Sable’s surprise she was not a runaway, but a free Black woman from Boston. “I own the biggest laundry in my part of town, and I wanted to come down here and help. When I arrived and explained what I could do, I thought General Sherman was going to kiss me, he was so happy.”
“You came South to do laundry?”
“Yep. With me around, our boys can concentrate on whipping those Rebs instead of doing wash. Come on. I want you to meet the others.”
The others turned out to be four women of varying sizes and hues. Some were older, some looked to be Sable’s age, none looked overly friendly. Their names were Dorothy, Bridget, Paige, and Sookie. Only Bridget offered a smile.
Mrs. Reese then took Sable to a group of tents. “This is where you’ll sleep. Had two girls run out on me, so you’re in here with Sookie and Paige. It’ll be kind of cozy, but it’s better than being out in the open.”
Inside the tent there were three pallets. Beside two of them were small bundles of clothing that Sable assumed belonged to her tent mates. Mrs. Reese pointed out the pallet on the far left as being Sable’s, then escorted her back outside.
“First thing we need to do is get you cleaned up.”
Sable could only agree. She hadn’t bathed in quite some time, and her filthy clothing and dirty skin reflected it all too well.
“I had the troops rig me up a shower of sorts.”
Sable studied the contraption. When the rope was pulled on an overhead bucket full of water, the bucket tipped and the water cascaded down in one fell swoop. The shower was housed in a listing wooden enclosure that offered a measure of privacy.
“You only get one bucket per wash.”
Sable thought the shower was ingenious and couldn’t wait to try it.
“Go ahead and wash. The water’s going to be cold, but you’ll get used to it. And you may as well toss that dress you’re wearing onto the rag pile. I’ve got a few spares around. I’m sure I can find something that will fit. Use that sheet there to dry yourself. It’s clean.”
Sable was left to wash. She gasped as the bucket of icy water came down and rinsed her clean. She felt like a new woman.
Per Mrs. Reese’s instructions, she dried herself with the rough cotton sheet. A knock sounded shortly thereafter, signaling the return of the laundress. Wrapped in the sheet, Sable cautiously cracked open the thin wood door and took the offered dress from Mrs. Reese’s hand.
Through the Storm Page 5
