As we made our way out of one room and to another to see if we could find Jacob and Captain Dyles, we walked by a large open barrel. Such a horrid stench came up from it that it revolted my stomach. I gagged, then couldn’t help asking the lieutenant, “What is that?”
“That’s their drinking water, ma’am,” he answered.
I gagged again, barely managing to keep my stomach down inside me.
We inspected a second room, then a third. There were probably two hundred men in each, but it didn’t take longer than a minute or two to scan through the faces and know that I recognized none of them. About half the prisoners ignored us altogether. Others looked at us with pleading and longing in their eyes, probably knowing there was nothing we could do for them, yet still with enough of their wits about them to hope that the sight of a friendly stranger somehow might bode well for their horrible plight.
But alas, we couldn’t take them all with us! Oh, this was an awful war!
In the fifth room, we found them.
I don’t think I’d have even recognized Captain Dyles. And when my face first spotted his in the midst of a small group of men, I’m not sure he recognized me at first either in the nurse’s attire I had on. He had more than two months’ growth of beard on his cheeks and chin, but even without that, the hollow sunken eyes and emaciated frame hardly seemed like the same man. It was the voice I recognized first. Then a second later my eyes made sense of the face I had just seen.
It wasn’t Captain Dyles’ voice, though, but Jacob’s.
Christopher and the lieutenant were at that moment a step or two in front of me and engaged in conversation. The whole time Christopher had been subtly keeping the lieutenant distracted and as far from me as possible, pretending to be looking for the two men but letting me keep as far back as possible. He must have known what could happen. So as I said, he and the lieutenant were talking and so heard nothing of what went on behind them.
“Miss Cor—” I heard Jacob’s voice say.
I recognized it immediately, and the same instant realized that my eyes had just passed over Captain Dyles’ face. I spun around toward the sound, my finger on my lips.
The look of urgency on my face must have instantly conveyed my message to Jacob because he stopped right in the middle of my name. I glanced ahead. Neither Christopher nor the lieutenant seemed to have heard him.
“Shh,” I whispered, as loud as I dared, glancing at both men. “You don’t know me! You’ve never seen me before. You are both very, very sick! Moan and act miserable!”
I prayed no one would hear my whispered message. Then I stood back from where I’d been stooped toward them and hurried after Christopher and the lieutenant.
“I think I’ve located them, Rev. Braxton,” I said, running up from behind.
They stopped and turned toward me.
“These two men back here fit the description exactly.”
I led them back to where Captain Dyles and Jacob sat together on the stone floor. They did look miserable! Poor Jacob! He must have lost half his weight! And it was clear he’d been beaten, probably in an attempt to find out what unit he’d escaped from. If he’d told them he was a free black man from the North, they’d probably have beaten him all the more. Southerners’ hatred of black men was so extreme and irrational, I had to fight against hating the Southerners myself.
“What’s your name?” Christopher asked the captain, rather sternly it seemed to me.
“Dyles, Reverend,” he answered. “Geoffrey Dyles.”
“And you?”
“Crabtree, Massah Reverrund, an’ ah’s feelin’ real sick.”
“That’s them, Lieutenant,” Christopher said.
I knelt down and pretended to feel about Jacob’s midsection. “What does that feel like?” I said, then gave a little poke.
“Ow!” he yelled, and then the most pitiful wail imaginable followed.
“That’s the cholera all right,” said Christopher. Already the lieutenant had taken three or four steps backward and his face was pale. “We simply must get these men out of here without delay. It is imperative we get them out of the city before the worst of the infectious period comes. What do you think, Nurse? Are we already too late?”
“We may have found them just in time,” I replied. “I can’t be sure, Reverend, but it is my medical opinion that there is still twelve to twenty-four hours before the most dangerous time arrives.”
“We must move quickly! On your feet, men!” ordered Christopher.
Jacob and the captain rose, a little too eagerly for the cholera, it seemed to me, but the lieutenant guard did not take much notice.
Already we were halfway out of the room. Christopher supported Jacob with one arm. Jacob, still moaning and staggering as if he could hardly keep his balance, entered into the charade with enthusiasm, although he probably was in reality very weak. I followed, helping Captain Dyles, though he seemed to genuinely need assistance. Cholera or not, he was only a shadow of his strong former self.
“What’s to prevent the two of you from catching it?” asked the lieutenant, still keeping his distance but moving along with us.
“We’ve taken a little pill that is supposed to prevent it, if we’re lucky,” replied Christopher.
“And if you’re not?”
“That’s why they selected a minister and a nurse for the assignment, because we are in the business of giving our lives for others.”
“Are there more of those . . . pills?” he asked. “Do you have one that I—”
“There are no more, Lieutenant,” barked Christopher. “They’re only experimental. If you’re afraid, you can step back. The nurse and I will be happy to take it from here. You’ve been a great help.”
Christopher increased his pace now, making it genuinely difficult for the rest of us to keep up.
We approached the door. It was still bolted.
“Get that door open!” yelled Christopher. “By order of President Jefferson Davis, we must get these two dangerously infected prisoners out of here immediately!”
A private and a corporal scurried toward the door. One threw up the iron bolt. The other unlatched the door and pulled it open. Beyond was the street and the blue sky of freedom!
“Thank you again, Lieutenant, for all your assistance!” Christopher called out behind him with just the slightest pause.
We were outside now, and, still supporting the two prisoners, who continued to moan, made for Christopher’s wagon, which lay about fifty yards down the street where Christopher had tied the team.
Suddenly my stomach leaped into my throat!
Along the street came a detail of six mounted Confederate officers, straight toward us! The lead horse was mostly white, and the man on its back, sitting tall and straight and with dignity in the saddle, had a short crop of hair of nearly matching color.
The description fit perfectly! It could only be one man! The general’s bars on both shoulders confirmed it. Robert E. Lee!
I knew Christopher was eyeing the mounted officers out of the corner of his eye. Still he kept steadily on. I followed, not daring to look up. If those steely eyes of General Lee once caught mine, I knew I would wilt like a withered flower and he would see the guilt all over my face in a second!
We were close to the wagon now and still walking slowly.
The horses moved slowly alongside us, then past. I could feel the intensity of six sets of inquisitive eyes following us.
We kept walking.
Then I heard the clomps of the horses’ hooves come to a halt in the street. I didn’t dare turn to look.
There was the wagon, only about ten yards ahead now.
“Stop, there . . . just a moment,” at last came the dreaded words behind us. I knew the voice could be none other than General Lee’s.
I saw Christopher flinch momentarily, but then he continued to walk straight ahead.
“Stop, I say,” came the imperative voice again. “That’s an order, be you a reverend
or whoever you are!”
“Nurse Hollister,” said Christopher, “continue on with these men and get them loaded into the wagon.” As he said it, Christopher let go of Jacob. He looked deeply into my eyes for just a brief instant, then whispered, “Whatever happens to me, you get in that wagon and go. That is my order to you, Corrie! You get to safety . . . and then you wait for me. I will come to you. My life is in the Father’s hands.” Though his words were spoken so softly and rapidly so as not to arouse suspicion, never had words bored so deeply into me. There was such authority and command in them that though my heart was already failing me with fear, I knew I had to obey what he’d told me to do. “Now go . . . they will not stop you or harm you. I will not let them.”
Then he turned to face the officers. “I’m afraid it’s cholera, sir,” said Christopher, sadly but confidently, and walking slowly toward the general.
“I have heard of no outbreak of cholera,” I heard a voice behind me. But slowly I kept on.
Jacob and Captain Dyles and I reached the wagon. Slowly they climbed inside and lay down in the back, moaning. I untied the horses, then climbed up onto the seat and grasped the reins between my fingers.
“General, we really must investigate this. One of those two could be the man you are looking for,” said another of the officers.
“I tell you there is no need of it,” said Christopher, speaking with a calm assurance. “Any questions you have may be directed to me.”
“It appears you have come from the prison with those two men, Reverend,” said General Lee. “By what authority have you taken those men into your care?”
“By the authority of the one who sent me,” I heard Christopher’s calm and steady reply.
I urged the horses forward. The wagon lurched into motion. No words from any of the men shouted out for us to stop. Whatever was going on now, I could no longer make out the words.
I glanced back. Three of the men had now dismounted and were clustered about Christopher. It looked like one of them had pulled a gun from the holster at his side.
Tears came to my eyes. I spoke to the horses now. They increased their pace.
I looked back again. No one was even looking our direction. We were safe! They were not even pursuing us!
But in the distance I could see Christopher, surrounded now by the six gray-coated officers. It looked like his hands were in the air, and they were walking back toward the prison.
“No!” I cried. “This can’t happen again!”
It was a terrible nightmare. I was reliving the awful moment when Jacob and the captain had been captured!
My mind blurred and began to get very confused. I could feel the leather reins still in my hands, but now suddenly I felt like I was riding . . . riding alone on horseback . . . riding like the wind . . . danger was behind me, but I could not escape it. Bullets flew faster than any horse.
A searing pain shot to my shoulder. I was still conscious, and I knew no one was behind us. Yet the very memory brought a renewal of the pain.
I whipped and lashed at the horses. “Faster . . . faster!” I screamed. “We have to escape . . . they’re behind us!”
Bumping and jostling the wagon behind them, the two horses galloped under my strokes. I bounced up and down in the seat, nearly unaware of my two very sick passengers.
“Miss Corrie . . . Miss Corrie!” I heard from behind me. I turned and glanced over my shoulder.
“Miss Corrie,” cried Jacob earnestly. “We be safe now. No one’s behind us for miles. We’d be much obliged to you if you’d slow them two nags down a mite.”
His words brought me to my senses. I blinked and shook myself awake. There still lay Captain Dyles and Jacob Crabtree in the back of the wagon, looking as if the last several miles had been as torturous as Libby Prison.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I reined the horses in. I breathed in deeply, then took another, and then remembered everything clearly once more.
Then suddenly I remembered the vision of seeing Christopher being taken at gunpoint back toward the prison. Again I felt tears sting my eyes.
It wasn’t fair! It was all wrong . . . all backward! We were the ones who were guilty, not Christopher. We had knowingly come into this enemy-occupied territory. He was the only one of the four of us who had done nothing wrong. Yet he turned and willingly walked straight into the hands of the enemy so that we could be free.
He had boldly walked straight up to Robert E. Lee, and just given himself up . . . while we rode out of the city to freedom! He had already saved my life once. Now here he had saved it again!
By now I was sobbing so freely that hot tears were running down my cheeks. I could barely see ahead of me that we had already reached the road off to the right toward Mrs. Timms’ farm.
Under any other circumstances, the next two days would probably have been joyous ones.
I hadn’t seen any way of being able to help Jacob and Captain Dyles. Then Christopher had come up with his plan. With Mrs. Timms’ help we had fashioned what looked enough like a nurse’s uniform for me, and with his old clerical collar and boldness, we had just walked straight into the prison and brought them right out!
Suddenly they were free men again! But what had become of Christopher?
All the rest of that afternoon and evening, we all kept watching the road for any sign of him. As quickly as we were able, Mrs. Timms and I got the two men fed and bathed and into warm beds. Once everything settled down some it became more than apparent that, in spite of not having cholera, both men were seriously weak and undernourished. They were still too stunned to question what we had done and too weakly exultant in their newfound freedom to even worry about Christopher.
But Mrs. Timms and I were beside ourselves with worry. I kept wondering if I ought to go back into the city to look for him. But somehow the memory of his words as they came back reminded me that he wanted me to stay and wait. But it was excruciating not to do something.
That first evening passed, silently. Neither Mrs. Timms nor I were in much of a mood to talk, and the two men were in bed. Though there were four of us, all the life seemed to have been taken away now that Christopher was gone. The house was silent as a tomb.
How I got through the night I’m not sure. I must have been absolutely exhausted because I did manage to get some sleep. But whenever I found myself fitfully tossing and turning, all I could think of was Christopher, alone somewhere, probably in that horrid prison . . . or, what if . . . no—I wouldn’t let myself think that! He couldn’t be dead!
The following morning was Saturday. The two men arose in noticeably better spirits and condition. A sound night’s sleep with nourishing food in their stomachs had already begun to work wonders.
We now had a chance to talk more. I told them what had happened to me since the fateful day we had been separated, and they told me more than I wanted to know about the prison where they’d been ever since. Once they knew everything, they realized just what a price had been paid for their freedom. Almost immediately they took upon themselves to pitch in and tend to as many of the chores about the place as they were able.
By then I had helped Christopher enough that I knew all the animals and their routines. So the four of us—two women who scarcely knew each other; a Union officer and a black man, both free now but still behind enemy lines—worked all day together. We probably worked harder than we needed to. But the work gave us something to do, and bound us together in our common indebtedness to the one who was not among us but about whom we all were thinking.
Every time I heard a noise, my head would jerk up and I’d look about. I don’t know whether I expected to see Christopher or a detail of Confederate soldiers coming to take all of us to prison too!
By day’s end, however, nothing had happened. I went to bed probably more downcast and disconsolate than at any time in my life. That there had been no word from Christopher in a day and a half meant there could be no doubt remaining that they were holding him . . . proba
bly in prison!
The next morning dawned bright, but cold. Nothing the sun did could cheer my spirits.
We went through the motions of feeding the pigs and goats and chickens and milking the cows and taking them to pasture. Jacob was returning every now and then to hints of his former self and did his best to encourage me. But it was no use.
Mrs. Timms prepared a nice Sunday afternoon dinner for us. It was her way of trying to make the best of the situation and do what she could for everyone else. We all had our own ways of coping with it. But one thing we all had in common was that Christopher’s absence seemed to put within each one of us a desire to serve and do things for one another. Mrs. Timms tried to make every mealtime homey for me and the two men, who were all away from our homes. Jacob and the captain did as much work around the place as they knew to do and almost began to get annoying with their asking what they might do to help.
Even though it was a sad and lonely time, I suppose it brought out the best in us—the unselfish, the desire to put others first. I don’t know if it’s just something that happens at such times, or if Christopher’s example had rubbed off on us all in different ways.
We sat down to eat early in the afternoon. But no one made a move to take any of the food. Even Mrs. Timms just sat there as if she was waiting for something, when it was usually her way to start passing around the dishes. We all sat and just looked at one another. Then I realized what we were all waiting for.
Slowly I held out my two hands and offered them to Mrs. Timms on my right and Jacob on my left. They took them, then each gave a hand in turn to Captain Dyles. Without even thinking whether I was the right one to do it, I began to pray.
Land of the Brave and the Free (Journals of Corrie Belle Hollister Book 7) Page 12
