by Karen Hesse
The schooner went aground on Keeper Dunne’s shift. He rang the alarm and woke Father and Father woke me and Mother. Father and I pulled on our storm clothes and fought the waves to push our boat off the island. We struggled to reach the distressed vessel. There were six aboard. All were glad to be rescued, but for the owner. The owner did not wish to leave his ship. What a foolish man. As if any possession could be more important than life itself. He screamed at Father, demanding a guard for the foundering ship. Father could hardly hear his words as the wind screamed in our ears, and the hungry waves swelled around us. The owner’s mates, yelling into the storm, made the schooner’s owner see the folly of his request. The schooner was already breaking up, being lifted and torn to shreds on the shoals. We were in danger of suffering the same fate, the storm was so wild, the waves and wind so high.
We got the crew and passengers safely back to Fenwick, though we had as difficult a time landing as we had pushing off. It took several attempts to bring the boat safely to shore.
Keeper Dunne remained at his watch at the Light, and Father and I led the men up the beach to the house and gave them blankets.
To my surprise and great relief I discovered that Mother, in our absence, had prepared food and warm drinks. My own body was so tired and so cold from the relief effort, I don’t know how I could have done by myself all Mother did for us.
I can’t remember when I’ve seen her so active, nor so beautiful. Do we need a wreck to make Mother happy?
Saturday, April 27, 1861
Clear. Wind S. Moderate.
I persuaded Mother and Father to attend Van Amburgh’s Menagerie and Fair with me today. We stopped to inquire if Grandmother might like to come with us. She declined. We next asked Uncle Edward, but he could not get away. He said we might see Daisy there, though. He had given her the day off.
The day was mild. By two o’clock, it seemed as if thousands were assembled on the grounds, all shades, colors, complexions, degrees, and kinds. I did not see Daisy, nor did I see Daniel, but there were so many people in attendance, they might have been there and I could easily have missed them.
I attended an exhibit in the Agricultural Booth. The exhibit featured the latest in farming equipment, tools that will replace the old reliable implements farmers have used for centuries. As I left, searching for Mother and Father, I wondered if in the future, lighthouses and their keepers would be replaced, too, just like farm tools. It does not seem possible. But I couldn’t help fretting that someday there will be no Light, and no need for a keeper to tend it. That, and not seeing Daniel, turned my mood toward a dark and irritable humor.
Not only that, but if I had hoped to bring Mother and Father closer by this diversion, I was gravely mistaken. They quarreled all day — about the crowds, and what to eat, and where to go, and how long to stay there. And all their bickering, I realized, was not about the fair at all, but about something else, something unsaid. I did not see any point in remaining, but Father stubbornly insisted we stay.
When we finally returned home this afternoon, Mother’s eyes were red and her hands swollen.
Before my watch, I walked carefully through the grasses where the plovers nest. I sat on the beach, thinking, as the long Atlantic rollers came in.
A little ways down the shore, Oda Lee stood in men’s light trousers, her hands on her hips, talking to herself.
Tuesday, April 30, 1861
Fair. Wind S. Moderate.
Much depends upon Maryland. She grows more and more agitated, fearing a battle will soon be fought on her soil. Some of our neighbors, like Daniel, are joining the Union army, but many are not. At least our fellow Delawareans resist enlistment in the Confederate army. But if words were weapons, the North would surely suffer defeat in Sussex County.
The reports I hear in town are that the Confederate armies are in Virginia, preparing to make an attack upon Washington, our very capital.
In the newspaper, it states that Southern children of ten and twelve years of age have joined the regiments! Southern women, who never before turned their hand to anything because they had slaves to do their chores, now work day and night in the preparation of their men’s equipage.
I work day and night, too. Not in preparation for battle. Just to keep the Light.
Wednesday, May 1, 1861
Fair. Wind S.W. Moderate.
The month of flowers, instead of bursting in all gay and sunlit, came in cold and blustery, more like February than May. The wind whipped up sand into a pelting storm. I checked the cover on the cistern to make certain sand would not foul our drinking water. The day was so disagreeable we were forced to light fires and wear hip boots, oil pants, overalls, layers of shirts, heavy sweaters, and overcloaks.
Uncle Edward said that in northern Delaware it was recommended that citizens raise money for the families of those who volunteer to defend the Government. “How else shall their families survive?” he said. “Men can’t rise up and leave their homes without some support to make up for their absence.” Daniel was greatly cheered by this proposal.
I am not surprised the idea originated in the north of the state. I wonder how our neighbors down here will take to it. Mrs. Worthington is dependent on Daniel. He works not only as a painter. He will take any odd job to bring in money for his mother. I think about Father. What will we do if Father enlists? Will the Lighthouse Board pay me Father’s salary? I doubt it. Mother and I would be destitute. And so would Grandmother, for Father supports her as well.
Uncle Edward said that Virginia has chosen to secede after all. The men of western Virginia are so unhappy with the situation, they have proposed separating their part of the state from the east so they might remain faithful to the Union.
So much anger, so much resentment. If only the two sides would sit down and discuss this sensibly. But how?
Mother cannot be sensible, nor can Grandmother. And Father, he is like a man deprived of his reason when the topic of slavery comes up. “There should be no slavery,” he yells at Mother. “Not in the existing states, not in the territories.”
Grandmother and I do not discuss politics. When I visited her today, she could speak of nothing but the mad dog that appeared in the street on Monday. A crowd of men went after the mongrel, but it managed to bite several dogs before it was killed. Unfortunately, those bitten also had to be destroyed. I think the mad dog is like South Carolina. It is biting its neighbors and forcing them into the position where they, too, must lose their lives.
Reenie O’Connell no longer comes to school. I wonder if she will continue to study on her own. And to draw. Her picture of the cottage is rain-damaged, but it is not ruined. I made a frame for Mother myself. The frame is not perfect. It irritates Father to look at it. Mother has it hanging in the front room.
Thursday, May 2, 1861
P. Cloudy. Wind N.W. Fresh.
Finished A Chronological History of the United States. Uncle Edward let me take his Darwin home with me.
The weather continues exceedingly cold for the season. Snow and hail and heavy frosts.
Governor Burton has proclaimed to the people of Delaware that the 780 men requested by the Secretary of War shall be assembled, though he does not command these men to obey President Lincoln. Rather, he suggests the men voluntarily offer their services in defense of the capital and the Constitution.
A request for arms has been sent to Europe. It seems we have more soldiers than weapons. Daniel said that will not stop him. He will take his father’s musket down from the wall where it has hung all these years. Daniel will use his father’s musket until the Government can issue him a weapon from its armory.
Daniel was one of the first to sign up. I am proud he is willing to fight for the Union. But I am so very frightened for his safety. I rely greatly upon his friendship and counsel. I shall miss him too dearly if he should truly leave.
I untied the bow from my hair and gave him the ribbon to carry with him, the green one Father gave me for Christmas, the on
e the color of the restless sea. Daniel laced the ribbon through his buttonhole and tied it in a knot. “I will keep it always, Amelia,” he said.
I lowered my head. I did not wish him to see the pleasure on my face.
Friday, May 3, 1861
Clear. Wind N.W. High.
Today is my sixteenth birthday.
Mother’s joints were so swollen, she could not get out of bed. I tended her, the house chores, and the Lighthouse chores. I rowed alone to school…. Daniel did not come out to meet me. I taught school, looked in on Grandmother and Uncle Edward. Picked up the mail. Then rowed myself back home. It was a day like every other day. Like every other day.
Uncle Edward was busy with inventory. He and Daisy worked together, counting the hoes and the shovels, the boots and the hats. They were discussing the War. What else? It is all anyone speaks of these days.
Daisy told me the slaves of Maryland are fleeing by whole families and in great numbers into Pennsylvania. Uncle Edward thinks this is just the beginning. He says not less than 500 slaves have escaped the South in the past few days.
Tonight, the thought of that tide of Negroes haunts me.
As I was writing this, standing watch at the Light, I heard a step on the stair below and I remembered when I heard steps but no one came. My whole body listened. I feared a ghost might appear at any moment. Whose ghost? Who is haunting me? And then I recognized the sound of the footstep.
It was Daniel. He came with a gift, a shell, delicate, polished, with a ribbon strung through it. He tied it around my neck. He wished me a happy birthday and left.
It happened so quickly, I’m still not certain I didn’t imagine the whole thing. But here is the shell and the velvet ribbon.
Monday, May 6, 1861
Clear. Wind S.E. Moderate.
Both frost and ice this morning.
Wednesday, May 8, 1861
Rain to Fair. Wind N.E. Fresh.
A violent rain fell, quite deluging the lowlands, impeding the work of the farmers and bringing the sea to our doorstep.
Thursday, May 9, 1861
P. Cloudy. Wind N.W. to S.E. Moderate.
Volunteers are being interviewed in the state of Delaware.
When I asked Daniel what the interview was like, he said,
They ask:
Are you a married man?
Daniel’s answer was no.
Have you anybody that cares anything about you?
No.
Oh, Daniel.
Do you believe in God?
No.
Daniel?
Do you believe in the Devil?
No.
Daniel!
Are you afraid to die?
No.
Have you ever been in the penitentiary?
No.
Have you ever stuck a knife in a man?
No.
Will you swear to bring home a lock of Jeff
Davis’s hair?
Yes.
You will do.
I asked Daniel is that truly the way the interview went? He smiled. I am not entirely certain but I believe he was teasing me.
Uncle Edward is going away for a week. He is traveling north, to Wilmington, to attend an abolitionist rally.
Before he left, he gave me the most wonderful new book, a belated birthday gift. It is a geography and atlas, published by Messrs. J. B. Lippincott & Co. Full-page maps of countries, states, and cities, maps of rain and winds and races of men … altogether the most satisfying book I have ever seen. Have set aside the Darwin for the moment. Before my watch I took the atlas out on the beach and, bundled up against the uncommon chill, sat reading as I faced out to sea.
The atlas does not fit inside my cloak as nicely as you, my diary. It is far too big. I cannot carry it up with me on watch. Anyway, I might become too engrossed and forget my duties.
North Carolina, Tennessee, and Arkansas have turned toward the Confederacy.
Maryland, it is settled, will stay with the Union. I am so relieved. If Maryland fell, Delaware could not have remained steady. We are just a stone’s throw from the Maryland border. If Delaware fell, we would have lost the Lighthouse. It would have gone to the Confederates. And where would that have left us?
As far as I can figure, this War is not so much about the destruction of slavery as it is about the preservation of the Union. Yet if slavery should vanish from this country as a result of the Union’s victory, I will not grieve.
I have spent my entire life in Bayville with Mother and Grandmother. I was wrong in my beliefs about slavery. Mother still is wrong, and Grandmother. But even if I did not think slavery wrong, it is pure selfishness to tear asunder what our forefathers struggled so hard to establish. Pure selfishness!
Monday, May 13, 1861
Cloudy. Wind N. Moderate.
It is rumored in town that women and their children are fleeing their Southern homes to avoid the danger of slave insurrections. The planters are loathe to leave their land unprotected from rebellious slaves. They refuse to let any of their white hands enlist in the Confederate army. They are arming them and keeping them as private guards, instead. The news is also that the Cotton States, particularly Mississippi and part of Louisiana, are running short of necessaries. Cornmeal, in small quantities, is the only food to be had.
I miss Uncle Edward. I should like to talk this over with him. I am eager for his return from Wilmington. Perhaps they are discussing the difficulties of the South at the abolitionist rally even now.
We should not be jubilant over the suffering of our Southern neighbors. It is a cruel thing to go hungry, no matter what your political beliefs. What does the stomach know of politics? It knows only that it is empty.
Tuesday, May 14, 1861
Clear. Wind N.E. Fresh.
In the paper appeared this Counsel to our Volunteers.
1. Remember that in a campaign more men die from sickness than by the bullet.
2. Line your blanket with one thickness of brown drilling. This adds but four ounces in weight and doubles the warmth.
3. Buy a small India rubber blanket (only 50 cents) to lay on the ground or to throw over your shoulders when on guard during a rainstorm. Most of the troops are provided with these. Straw to lie upon is not always to be had.
4. The best military hat in use is the light-colored soft felt, the crown being sufficiently high to allow space for air over the brain. You can fasten it up as a Continental in fair weather, or turn it down when it is wet or very sunny.
5. Let your beard grow, so as to protect the throat and lungs.
6. Keep your entire person clean; this prevents fevers and bowel complaints in warm climates. Wash your body each day if possible. Avoid strong coffee and oily meat.
7. A sudden check of perspiration by chilly or night air often causes fever and death — When
thus exposed do not forget your blanket.
I presented a copy of these instructions to Daniel, at his house, along with a pair of socks I’ve been knitting in the evenings, a blanket lined with drilling, and a small India rubber blanket I purchased with money I have made selling the fish I catch.
Daniel examined my package, bowed, and thanked me like a proper soldier.
Mrs. Worthington was not so formal. She hugged me and thanked me many times over.
I felt confused by Daniel’s polite distance, but then he ran after me as I headed to the skiff. He caught me, swung me around, and taking my shoulders in his two large hands, gave me a kiss right on my forehead. Then, without a word, he ran back home.
Even now, as I stand watch, my cheeks flush with pleasure.
Thursday, May 16, 1861
P. Cloudy. Wind S.W. Moderate.
Pulled up five blue crabs from one pot and three from another this afternoon. Mother, though she is out of bed, is still painfully swollen and not able to get her fingers to work. After I steamed the crabs, I picked the meat. Mother smiled to see all the crabmeat. Her smiles come so infrequently, I felt as
if a ray of sunlight had fallen across me.
Uncle Edward was delighted with the crabs I brought him. The rest sold marvelously well in town.
It is good to have Uncle Edward back from Wilmington and his abolitionist rally.
He said most of Delaware hates the Abolitionists.
I am disappointed to my very soul.
Uncle Edward said one side recognizes the rights of all men. The other side is based upon the domination of one race over another.
When put that way, how can so many stand against abolition? Yet a year ago, I stood against abolition.
I hardly see Daniel at all now. He does not come out to the island in the mornings. He is caught up in preparations for war.
Monday, May 20, 1861
Clear. Wind N. to E. Moderate.
Mother spends hours with the papers I bring her from Uncle Edward. She sits in silence, her hands so cramped she can barely turn the pages. Her chores are neglected. I would like to sit with the paper as she does. I would like to rest for an hour after school. Instead I run from one chore to the next. The only time I have to myself is on watch. And even this time isn’t truly my own, for I must be always vigilant.
I don’t know what is wrong with me. I feel angry much of the time. Peace is too often a stranger, except when I am here in the Light, or rowing across the Ditch, or with the children at school. But even the schoolchildren are stirred up by the War. Mr. Warner is enlisting in a few days, when school ends. He says he will be back in time for the commencement of fall classes. But what if the War doesn’t end this summer? What if the War ends and Mr. Warner doesn’t return?
