Uncertain Glory

by Lea Wait

  I was so relieved to be home I hardly had time to be nervous.

  Ma rushed over and gave me a big hug. “Thank goodness you’re home!” she said. After hesitating a moment, she hugged Nell, too. “And you’ve brought Miss Gramercy with you, too. What a surprise! You both look in need of a hot breakfast.”

  Nell smiled.

  “Nell has a headache,” I started.

  “It’s a little better now, thank you,” Nell said softly. “I’d love a cup of tea, please, Mrs. Wood, if it’s no trouble.”

  “Of course, of course,” said Ma, bustling about. “And coffee for you, Joe, and your pa.”

  “What about Owen?” said Pa. “Has anyone found him?”

  “We did,” I answered as I sat down at the table. To my surprise, despite her headache, Nell helped Ma get cups out of the cabinet.

  “Nell’s voices knew where to look. We found Owen at Fort Edgecomb. He’d fallen and broken his leg. He’s at Dr. Cushman’s house right now. His leg is set, and the doctor is hoping he’ll be all right. He’ll be going home in an hour or two.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Pa. “We were so worried all night. About you, and Owen.” He looked over at Nell. “It never occurred to us to be worried about Miss Gramercy as well.”

  “We’re all fine now,” said Nell, joining us at the table and handing Pa a cup of coffee. “And, please, call me Nell.”

  “Pa, Ma, we have something to ask you,” I said, looking from one to the other. “Right now Dr. Cushman is seeing Sheriff Chadbourne. You’ve met Nell’s uncle, Mr. Allen. He’s been giving Nell dangerous drugs and forcing her to perform those sessions. Dr. Cushman says it’s bad for her health, and she needs to stop, but her uncle won’t let her. She wants to leave her aunt and uncle, but she has no other family.”

  Ma and Pa exchanged a look. Ma was the first to speak. She reached out and touched Nell’s hand. “I hope you told this dear girl she had a home with us, right here in Wiscasset. We have an extra room in our house, and lots of room in our hearts.”

  I couldn’t help grinning. That was just what I’d thought Ma would say.

  Nell started crying. Not sobbing this time—happy tears.

  “Thank you so much,” she said. “I’d be glad to help you with your store, Mrs. Wood. And I know how to do some cooking, but I’d like to learn more.”

  “I had two boys, and I’ve loved ’em both, but I’ve always wanted a daughter, too. I know it’s probably too soon, my dear, but I wouldn’t mind if someday, you might stop calling me ‘Mrs. Wood’ and call me ‘Ma,’ as Joe does. Or ‘Ma Wood,’ if you’d like. It’d feel more friendly-like.”

  Pa smiled, a little crookedly. “I can see my family’s changing by the day around here. And for the best. Welcome, Nell. You’ll be good company for my wife Catherine and for Joe while I’m away, and having a son and a daughter’s not a bad thing at all.”

  “I have one question for you, though, Nell,” I said. “If you’re feeling well enough to answer it.” I just had to ask her.

  “What is it, Joe?”

  I swallowed hard. “You say you hear voices, and for sure, you know things no regular person should be able to know. But Charlie and I talked to that bearded man who asked the first question at the assembly you held last week. He said your uncle had paid him to say those things about his having a sweetheart.”

  Ma and Pa exchanged glances. I hoped they wouldn’t be too upset with me for questioning Nell. They truly believed that everything she’d said came from her spirit voices. But before she became part of our family, I wanted to know for sure.

  The kitchen was silent. Then Nell said, quietly, “I used to tell people the truth—that the spirits don’t always talk to me. But my uncle didn’t accept that. He said the spirits must speak to me when people pay for a session. When I first started having large sessions, he planned it out so it would look as though I hadn’t heard the questions asked. He said it would seem more mystical.”

  “So it was a trick? But how did you do it?”

  “I hated fooling people . . . but it worked. My uncle would find someone, like the bearded man you talked to, who I would meet beforehand. We would prepare his question and answer in advance. At the session, the first thing I did would be to give out that ‘answer.’ Then, as you saw, I would pick up a piece of paper with a question on it. But what was on the paper was not the question I would read out loud; instead, I would say the first person’s prepared question, while reading the written one to myself. After I read it, I’d be able to answer it—sometimes with help from my spirits, sometimes because I could just sense what the writer wanted to hear. So I always saw the question before I gave the answer.” She looked down. “I know it was wrong, but it was part of the show.”

  “It worked really well,” I said. So Charlie had been right. Nell had tricked people. “So your voices aren’t real?”

  Ma spoke up. “Joe, leave this poor girl alone. She told you; sometimes she hears voices, but just not all the time. I know for certain what she heard for your pa and me came right from your brother. It had to. That was no trick.” She turned to Nell. “Seems to me the problem was your uncle, not letting you answer in your own time. He forced you to pretend when the voices didn’t come to you.”

  Nell nodded. “That’s how it was. Thank you for understanding.”

  “When you live in this house, no one’s going to ask you questions. You’ll be who you are. If your voices want to tell you something, that’ll be between them and you. You shan’t be asked to perform.”

  Nell smiled. “Thank you. You sound a lot like my mother.”

  “Well, for right now, that’s who I’ll try to be. And I say that you and Joe had both better get some rest; you’ve been up the full night. Joe, show Nell where Ethan used to sleep. It’ll be her place from now on.”

  I beckoned to Nell and we headed up the stairs. It had all gone even easier than I’d thought.

  Now if it would just go as smoothly with Mr. Allen.

  Chapter 38

  Friday, April 19, late morning

  “Joe! Nell! Come downstairs!”

  Ma’s excited voice woke me from the heavy sleep I’d fallen into. I shook my head and pulled on my boots. I hadn’t even taken off my clothes from the night before; I’d been too tired.

  I hoped Nell had been able to sleep, too. But as I clattered down the stairs I saw she’d reached the kitchen before I had. And the room was crowded.

  Sheriff Chadbourne, a big man any way you might define that word, filled the space by himself. He was smiling.

  “Wanted to check that you folks were all right, and safe here at home. Knew you’d be interested in what happened this morning after Dr. Cushman came to talk with me.”

  He turned to Nell. “I went and had a little visit with your aunt and uncle, Miss Gramercy. I informed them that here in the State of Maine, we don’t hold with folks giving medicine to young girls when it’s not needed, and a doctor was willing to testify to such. I also informed them that the same doctor, and others in the community, were willing to testify that Miss Gramercy did not wish to continue traveling with them. I told them that if they tried to contact her again, they would be arrested.”

  “What did they say to that?” I asked.

  “They weren’t happy about it, you can be sure. But I told them that if they didn’t leave town today, I’d file official abuse and harassment charges and arrest the both of them. Said that in Wiscasset, we don’t countenance people taking advantage of children, and my next stop would be Judge Fales’s office.”

  Nell smiled at him. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Then I waited while your aunt packed up your clothes and such in your trunk,” he said, pointing at an elegant leather trunk in the corner of the kitchen. “I thought a young lady would need her personal things.”

  “Yes, sir!” said Nell. This time her smile was almost as big as Ma’s.

  “Deputy Hubbard is with your aunt and uncle now, and will be accompanying the
m this afternoon when they leave on the Boston stage. I’ve instructed him to remain with them as far as Portland, and then to see them off on the next part of their journey south. He’ll alert the driver that if they depart the stage at any town north of Boston, he’s to notify law enforcement.”

  “Thank you so much, Sheriff Chadbourne,” Pa said. “Miss Gramercy—Nell—is safe with us. We appreciate all of your help.”

  “Happy to help out,” said Chadbourne, tipping his hat to everyone. “And may I suggest that Miss Gramercy not show her face on Main Street until after the stage has left at one-thirty today.”

  Sheriff Chadbourne had barely left when the kitchen door banged open and Charlie barged in. For a moment he just stood, looking in amazement at Nell, her trunk, and Ma and Pa and me.

  “I heard this crazy story,” he said. “That Joe and Nell Gramercy had found Owen at Fort Edgecomb in the middle of the night.”

  “You heard right,” said Pa. “Owen’s probably to home by now, healing his broken leg.”

  “But you haven’t even heard the most exciting part,” I said. “Nell’s aunt and uncle are leaving town, and she’s staying here. With Ma and Pa and me.”

  For a moment Charlie didn’t say anything. He looked dumbstruck.

  “Godfrey mighty,” he managed to say. “That’s fierce!” He looked from one of us to the other. Then he got his voice back. “I have news, too. I’ve enlisted!”

  “What?” Even Pa turned around for that. “Charlie, you’re not eighteen.”

  “I’m tall for being close to sixteen. And I got my father to sign a paper saying I just turned eighteen. Edwin Smith accepted me. He needs everybody he can to muster one hundred men for Wiscasset. So I’m going!” Charlie pretended to hold a rifle and pointed it at each of us in the kitchen. “Pow, pow, pow! I’m going to get those Confederates! I’m going to be a hero! Just wait and see!”

  I couldn’t believe Charlie, my friend, was really leaving Wiscasset and going to be a soldier in the army. Charlie, who had trouble keeping his mind on his work, would learn to shoot a gun and fight in battles.

  “Captain Smith says we’re leaving next Tuesday, the twenty-third. I can help you with your printing until then, Joe. Are you going to work today?”

  Tuesday. Pa and Charlie and all the enlisted men would be leaving for the war next Tuesday. Monday was the twenty-second, the day the money was due. Today was Friday.

  I only had until Monday morning to get the rest of the money for Mr. Shuttersworth. Three days.

  “I’m going now. I can use all the help I can get.”

  “I’ll go with you. I don’t know anything about setting type, but maybe I can help with the press,” said Nell, smiling. “You’ve changed my life. Maybe I can help you with yours.”

  “Go on, the three of you, then,” said Ma. “Go the back way, in case Nell’s uncle is still wandering about. I’ll bring you all some food later. With everything else that’s happening, now’s the time to focus on the Herald.”

  Only the day before I’d thought it would be impossible.

  “I don’t know if we can print the Act in time,” I said. “But if you’re both willing to help . . . let’s go!”

  Chapter 39

  Tuesday, April 23, midday

  My eyes were still burning from lack of sleep, but we’d done it.

  Somehow Nell and Charlie and I had set the type and printed the Act and gotten twenty-five copies to the county clerk first thing Monday morning—just in time to collect the money I needed to pay Mr. Shuttersworth his $65. I was even able to give Charlie $6 to take with him soldiering.

  While I’d spent most of the weekend at the Herald office, Ma’d been busy at the store, helping families to provision their men for the journey, and giving Pa numerous last hugs in preparation for his departure. Her eyes were swollen and red, but so were those of most women, and a few men, in town.

  Reverend Merrill began the morning with a special church service to honor those departing to serve our country. He’d even composed a special patriotic hymn which the choir sang in their honor. Then the eighty-nine men (not quite the one hundred Edwin Smith had hoped for) who’d enlisted marched down the Village Green from the church onto Main Street. The entire town lined the block, waving flags and cheering for their family, friends, and neighbors.

  Nell and Ma and I stood together near the corner of Water Street, where we could see everything. Right at the corner of Long Bridge and Water Street, Reverend Merrill said another prayer for the soldiers, and Captain Tucker declaimed some fine words about patriotism. I can’t remember just what was said, since most folks were crying, including many of the new soldiers themselves.

  Some soldiers were as young as Charlie, and a few were in their forties, but most men were in their twenties and thirties, leaving sweethearts or wives and young children behind. As they marched over the Long Bridge to Edgecomb, the whole town followed them. On the Edgecomb side they were met by the Newcastle town band, which led everyone in a new assortment of hymns and patriotic songs before leading the soldiers up the hill toward Newcastle, their next destination. It would take several days for them to reach their first training ground at Rockland.

  As we walked back across the bridge, Ma comforted a young woman whose husband had just left. Nell and I walked together, neither of us saying much.

  We’d just gotten back to Main Street when Owen hobbled up on his new crutches. “News! I have news!” he shouted.

  “What news?” I asked, trying to smile through the sadness of the day.

  “I knew you were busy, so I checked with Miss Averill at the telegraph office,” said Owen. “Remember that regiment from Massachusetts that left for Washington last week—the Sixth Massachusetts?”

  I remembered. The Massachusetts regiment that had managed to get organized so quickly, ahead of all the other New England regiments.

  “They were on their way to Washington—they took a train to Baltimore—but when they started marching south from there, they were attacked by people on the side of the South. Four soldiers and a dozen people in Baltimore were killed. They’re the first to die in action in the war, and on the anniversary of Lexington and Concord, too.” Owen took a deep breath.

  “That’s awful, Owen,” I said.

  “That’s not all,” he added. “The first man killed a citizen of my color, Nicholas Biddle. Sumner Needham, a soldier from Norway, Maine, was killed too.” He looked at me. “Can we put all that in the newspaper, Joe?”

  “Yes, we can, Owen,” I said, and I put my arm around his shoulders. “The soldiers have gone, but we on the home front still have a job to do.”

  Owen and Nell and I headed for the Herald office. We needed to print a special edition.

  Author’s Historical Notes

  Some of the major characters in Uncertain Glory, and many of the minor ones, were real people who lived in Wiscasset, Maine, during the 1860s.

  Teenagers Joe Wood and Charlie Farrar did own a printing business in Wiscasset, and published the Wiscasset Herald, a four-page newspaper. I’ve taken the liberty of moving the time of their business from 1859 to 1861, and of giving full ownership to Joe.

  Charlie Farrar enlisted in the Union Army. When he and the others serving under Edwin Smith reached Rockland in 1861, the citizens of Rockland and Thomaston gave each of them a small Bible to keep with them while they were serving their country. Some of those small “Testaments” may be found in homes, libraries, and historical society museums in Maine today.

  Charlie didn’t stay in the army long. Perhaps war wasn’t as glorious as he’d thought it would be. Instead, he settled in Massachusetts, where for many years he ran a printing business during the winters. During the summers he lived in northern Maine, where he captained a steamboat in the Rangeley Lakes region, and wrote guides to hunting, fishing, and hiking in the Maine wilderness and adventure stories for boys. Charlie married, but never had children. He died in 1893.

  Joe Wood stayed in Wiscasset. At
the beginning of the war he served in the Maine Home Guard under Richard Tucker. He then left for Portland, where he served an apprenticeship at the Portland Evening Courier. After attending business school he returned to Wiscasset, and, in 1869, began publishing another, more ambitious, Wiscasset newspaper, the Seaside Oracle (1869–76). Joe spent the rest of his life in the newspaper business, publishing newspapers in Skowhegan, Bar Harbor, and Bath, Maine. He married in 1880, and named his children Charles Darwin, Herbert Spencer, and Frances (after his wife). He died in 1923.

  The group of volunteers that left Wiscasset under the command of Edwin Smith became part of the Fourth Maine Volunteers, together with units from Searsport, Winterport, Damariscotta, and Belfast: a total of 1,085 men, including a band. They were not disbanded until July of 1864. During that period a total of 1,440 men served in the regiment: 170 were killed, 443 were wounded, 137 died of disease, and 40 men died in Confederate prisons. There is a monument to them at Gettysburg. Captain Smith was killed at the Battle of Fair Oaks (also known as the Battle of Seven Pines) in Virginia, on May 31, 1862. His body was returned to Wiscasset for burial.

  Nell Gramercy and Owen Bascomb and their families are fictional, but there were real people like them in New England in 1861. In the mid-nineteenth century, between one and two million Americans believed that the dead do not cease to exist, but become spirits who can communicate with the living through “spiritualists.” Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of spiritualists toured the country, advertising their services. Many of them were young women and girls who were thought to be particularly sensitive and finely attuned to the voices of spirits.

  Pure opium and its liquid form, laudanum, were commonly used during this period, though reports from Europe were beginning to indicate that addiction could be a serious problem. Despite this, there were no other medications as powerful for pain, and opium was widely used to treat soldiers wounded during the Civil War. Many of them returned from the war addicted to the drug.

  In 1861 the Union government took control of all northern telegraph lines for the war effort. During the four years of the war, more than 15,000 miles of telegraph wires (all strung between poles) were used exclusively for military communications. In the field, wagons containing reels of insulated wire and telegraph equipment batteries took the telegraph to the front, where, in the North, the telegraph operator’s office was usually a tent near either General Meade or General Grant. More than three hundred telegraph operators were either killed or seriously wounded during the war.