by Jana Petken
“It wasn’t too bad,” Mercy told him. “I met some nice people. They will be worried about me,” she added honestly. Mercy had been waiting for a conversation like this. This was her chance to persuade Isaac to let her go. With her stitches out and no infection, there was really no reason why she should remain here.
“What if I told you that you didn’t have to leave? Would you be happy about that?”
“I never really thought about it,” Mercy lied.
“I have. I had a long discussion with General Butler. He agreed to let you stay here. I took it upon myself to tell him that you and I are very good friends. I told him you would be a great asset. I hope you don’t mind?”
Mercy tried to hide her disappointment. The last thing she wanted was Isaac thinking she wanted to stay. The past week had been torture, spent wondering if Jacob had written – or worse, had travelled to see her. “I can’t imagine why I would be an asset,” she said honestly.
“Hear me out. I have a proposition for you. I think you will like it,” Isaac said.
Although Mercy nodded, she didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. She had lied to him and to Nelson from the moment she got here. She would have to lie to him again if he came right out and asked her not to leave. “What is it?” she asked him.
“We have Negros here, Mercy, a lot of them. They’re outside the walls but under the fort’s protection. General Butler has declared that all Negro runaways are to be classified as contraband of war, which means that we are under no obligation to send them back to their masters. You didn’t see them when you got here, but there’s a couple of hundred of them in the fort’s grounds.
“We’re building a camp to house them. We won’t turn any Negro away. We will ask some of them to enlist in the army, and others will be urged to take on some manual labour around the fort, but they won’t be seen as slaves. There will be no beatings or forced servitude. We believe they should have something worthwhile to do with their time, for their own sake as much as ours. I thought this news would please you.”
“It does, very much. I did hear that slaves reaching the fort had a good chance of gaining their freedom. That’s why I joined Norfolk’s Underground Railroad. I’m sure there will be many more trying to get here in the months to come.”
“I agree – and so does the general. He has a grand plan to teach the Negros how to read and write. Jacob always maintained that Negros didn’t have the brains to learn, but I think that given time, any man or woman can be successfully educated. I joined the army to help set this nation of Negros free, and I’m mighty proud to be involved with the general’s venture. I know you feel the same way, and that’s why I suggested to the general that you would be happy for the chance to get involved with our slave issues. Would you like that?”
Mercy hesitated. She should be saying yes. Under any other circumstances, she would be jumping at the opportunity to help. But saying yes would be a dishonest reply. The only thing she wanted to do was run to Jacob in Yorktown. “Will you let me think about it?” she asked.
Isaac nodded, trying desperately to hide his disappointment. His light-heartedness this morning was quickly turning to discontentment. He had tossed and turned in bed every night since Mercy’s arrival at the fort. At times, he was overwhelmed with happiness. He wanted to shout out to the world that he loved her and that she was now free to love him back. She was no longer in love with Jacob. He had wanted to take her in his arms the moment she had said the words. Her heart was whole, not broken. She was free to love again – all he needed was time to convince her that he was the man she should be marrying.
Mercy baffled him at times. He had seen her absolute joy when reunited with Nelson. She had wept tears of gladness. She had no one to speak of in Norfolk, yet she gave the impression that she wasn’t entirely happy at the prospect of staying. He loved her to distraction, but at this very moment, he was damned if he understood her.
“I’ll let you enjoy your bath,” he said at length. “Maybe you can give me your answer later this morning.” He stood to leave. There was nothing else to say for the moment. “I’ll come back in a couple of hours …”
“No, wait. Please, Isaac. Please don’t go. I’m very grateful to you for speaking to the general on my behalf – and I’m overjoyed at the prospect of spending time with you and Nelson – but what I really want is to go back to Norfolk as soon as possible. People will be worried about me.”
Isaac shook his head. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to help Negros,” he said. “You were so happy to see Nelson and spend time with him. You will break his heart if you leave him again. You said you were happy to see me – I know I am delighted to have you here – and what do you have to go back to? Surely you must see that this was fate. Please tell me this has nothing to do with Jacob Stone.”
“No, of course not!” she protested loudly. “I just told you five minutes ago that he is in the past – a memory, nothing more. The last I heard, he was in the Confederate Army, fighting for a cause I don’t believe in. Jacob and I were not meant for each other – but, Isaac, I don’t belong here. I can do more good helping runaway slaves in Norfolk, where they are most vulnerable. We both agreed that many more would try to get across the water. I would like to assist them in their journeys. Please tell me you understand.”
Isaac rose from the chair. Nope, he didn’t understand her at all. Ever since his return from Bethel, his first taste of war, he had come to look at life in a very different way. He appreciated his blessings. He had wealth, a loving family, a fine education, and good memories of adventures with Jacob Stone. But he had also taken away from Bethel an insatiable hunger for love. Mercy had come back into his life, and he believed that the Lord’s will had brought her to him. She had not returned to Jacob, and the Lord had answered his prayers on that too. Should she leave, he would be crushed.
“Mercy, if I thought for a moment that you would be happy in Norfolk, I would do everything in my power to help you get back there. But what is there for you but loneliness? You have a home here. We have women in the fort who are of a mind to teach the Negros to cook for us and to nurse our sick. Surely one of these vocations would suit you?”
“Isaac, please don’t pursue this,” she begged him. “I would like you to ask your general if he will give me permission to leave.”
“I will speak to him if your heart is set on this course, but I cannot guarantee that he won’t force you to remain.”
“Are you saying that I might be a prisoner?”
“No, not at all, but you’re asking to go back into enemy territory. He wouldn’t be a general if he didn’t wonder what information might go with you.”
“Ha – so you think I’m a spy?”
“I don’t think that, but he might.”
“God’s truth, Isaac, do I look like a bleedin’ spy?” she said indignantly. “All I’ve seen since I’ve been here is this room. It was too dark to see anything else, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know the first thing about spying.”
Isaac sat down again. He hated to see her angry. Her eyes flashed with defiance and determination. His heart plummeted. It was not going to be easy to convince her to stay. He would speak to Nelson. She would listen to him, but if after their conversation, her heart was still set on leaving, he would talk to General Butler. Hopefully her permission to leave would be denied.
Chapter Nineteen
Mercy sat thinking about Isaac and his mystified expression when she had refused to give him an answer. She wasn’t surprised at his confusion. She should have told him she’d be honoured to help at the fort instead of giving him cause to doubt her. She wasn’t very good at lying.
She looked at herself in the mirror. She cringed at the ill-fitting dress that hung loose on her body. The woman who had washed her hair and helped to bathe her had donated it, and she had been grateful for it, but still, she looked like the poor orphan she was.
She jumped at a heavy knock on the door. It would be
Isaac with coffee and more questions, she thought with dread. “Come in,” she called out.
Her eyes widened with pleasure at the sight of Nelson, until she saw his surly expression. He carried a tray with bread, butter, and a pot of coffee. He was certainly in a bad mood about something, she thought, giving him her brightest smile.
“Good morning, Nelson. Who’s upset you this morning? You look as though you’re about ready to hit someone.”
“Now, why you wanna do that to Mr Isaac? You ain’t got no one waitin’ for you outside these walls, so you best be staying right here with Mr Isaac and me,” Nelson told her angrily.
Mercy fumbled for a reply. Nelson had obviously been told by Isaac that she didn’t want to stay. At least she knew what was bothering him. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Mercy told him.
“Mr Isaac done told me he’s real happy you be here. He sure is fond of you, Miss Mercy, and he’s a fine man.” Nelson carried on. “I don’t reckon you find no one finer than Mr Isaac, so why you wanna leave when you got him and me to take care of you? You ain’t lost your stubbornness. No, you always was as stubborn as an old mule.”
Mercy was elated at being reunited with Nelson. He had grown stronger and more confident, and he had lost that gaunt, frightened expression, as though the world held nothing but peril for him. They had come together the morning after Mercy arrived unexpectedly at the fort, and they had spent an hour reacquainting with each other. She told him about Lina’s death, and they had both cried. He’d wanted to know where she had been since April, and he had not been happy to learn that she had put her life in danger again. Her head had spun with his questions and her attempts to keep up with all her lies.
Mercy learned that after leaving him in Chester, Pennsylvania, Nelson had managed to secure passage on a steam ferry going to New York. He had worked hard, he told her. He had scrubbed decks and, at the end of the journey, had received half a dollar. From New York, he had found himself in all kinds of trouble, as he put it, but though she had nagged him to tell her about his experience, all he would say was that he had eventually shared a wagon with a white man who peddled medicines for a living up and down the East Coast.
Nelson had eventually entered the city of Boston two weeks after leaving her and had found the hospital and Isaac, who, he told her, had been more than happy to help him.
Mercy thought it best to say as little as possible this morning. She was sure it wouldn’t matter what she said to justify her desire to go back to Norfolk, for he was just as determined that she remain here as Isaac was.
There was so much she wanted to say to Nelson. She had opened her heart to him, and he had listened to her talk about Jacob for hours at a time on their fateful journey. Did he believe that she wanted nothing to do with Jacob? She didn’t really know, but she was sure he was at the very least sceptical about her denials.
Nelson was not as polite as Isaac. He was determined, goading her and demanding answers, and she believed he wouldn’t stop today until he got them. “I’ll go mad if I spend another day looking at these walls, Nelson. Mr Isaac said I could take a short walk,” she said, trying to steer the subject in a different direction.
“There ain’t nothing to see round here but soldiers and guns, Miss Mercy. We got more soldiers than we know what to do with – and we got niggers sleeping outside the walls. I don’t know for sure, but I reckon we’ll soon have a whole camp full of runaways before long. Them niggers need feedin’ and lookin’ after. You could stay here and put your mind to that instead of runnin’ away. Why you always runnin’? Runnin’ here, runnin’ there, and always hidin’ from somethin’ and someone?”
“So you’ve been sent here to convince me to stay?” Mercy finally said. “Tell me, if you know me as well as you say you do, why would you want to keep me here against my will? Even if you do think you’re doing what’s best for me.” Mercy smiled at his forlorn expression. “Blimey, Nelson, it’s hard to believe you were a scared, skinny slave not that long ago. Now look at you. Anyone would think you were my father, the way you talk to me!”
“Aw, hush now, Miss Mercy. Old Nelson here ain’t never gonna be no father.”
Mercy laughed. How she loved Nelson. If she had her way, she would take him with her when she left.
She watched him cut a slice of bread and smear honey on it. He handed it to her, but he was clearly pensive and distracted.
“Tell me about Bethel,” Mercy said.
“Oh, that was real nasty, Miss Mercy. I ain’t seen nothin’ like that. Now, I ain’t sayin’ it was a big battle, but men died and I saw some cut up real bad. I reckon them soldiers here killed more of their own kind than they did the enemy that night. They all started hollerin’ and shootin’ at each other before we even got to the Confederate camp. I don’t know who said we should march in the dark, but I know it ain’t the best time to see who you’re shootin’ at. I don’t reckon I want to see that again – all that smoke and blood and men yellin’. Mr Isaac was real brave. He sewed those poor men up like he was darning socks – he’s a fine doctor – but I ain’t got no hankering for marchin’ and soldierin’.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, but you know you will probably have to march again, don’t you?”
“I guess so. I got to look after Mr Isaac.”
“You like Isaac very much, don’t you?”
“He’s a good man – and he be real good to you. You mind my words.”
Mercy chewed the bread and then wiped a dribble of honey from the side of her mouth with a napkin. “Nelson, are you matchmaking?”
“Nope, I ain’t doin’ no such thing, but if I was, I reckon I would match you up with Mr Isaac. You sure will break his heart if you leave him.”
In a rare display of affection, Nelson reached out and held her hand. He squeezed it and gave her an assuring smile. “Don’t you pay me no heed. When the time is right, I’ll help you, you knows I will. Just promise me you’ll give Mr Isaac a chance to make you happy. That’s all I want, ’cause the good Lord knows you sure do know how to get yourself in a whole lot of trouble when no one’s lookin’ …”
Chapter Twenty
Yorktown was brimming with southern states’ militias. It was late September, and the summer’s oppressive heat had turned to mild and sultry days with cooler nights. The town was now home to the army of North Virginia. It was the Confederate stronghold, ringed by defensive positions and thousands of men. West to the river, east to the wetlands, and south and south-east were manned, barricading Yorktown behind what the Confederacy hoped was an impenetrable line.
Brigadier General John Bankhead Magruder was in charge. He was a man fond of saying, “There will be no soft-bellied soldiers under my command.” He was a hardened army veteran who had fought well in the Mexican wars and had insisted on his arrival that his troops be battle ready at all times. He drove the men hard each day with military and weapons drills, leaving no soldier under his command mentally or physically feeble.
General Magruder’s army friends called him Prince John. The soldiers under his command knew him to be a good leader but with a liking for the finer things in life. Some joked that they would desert should he force his avocation for dramatics and music on them. He could often been heard singing around the camp in smooth tenor tones, and this was the only time he did not suffer from his annoying lisp.
General Magruder had set up a secondary defence line on the Yorktown Road, just outside Newport News. The Portsmouth Ninth Calvary Brigade was camped out just to the south of Yorktown, in and around a schoolhouse. The brigade’s officers lay their heads on makeshift canvas beds inside the classrooms, and the ranks slept inside or outside white canvas tents dotted around the schoolyard and surrounding fields.
There were no signs of Federal advances out of Fort Monroe to threaten the Confederate Army, which had gathered in Yorktown in strength, nor was there any talk of marching or digging in anywhere else in the state. Since Bethel, Virginia had remained calm
and, for most soldiers, exceedingly dull. The war was a reality, yet with every passing day, it became but a distant menace to come sometime in the future.
The men were getting itchy feet and becoming bad-tempered while waiting for a battle or the promise of one. Some of them wandered home, if they lived closed by, ate a home-cooked meal, made love to their wives, and kissed their children. Some soldiers left and were never seen again. The Yorktown taverns were doing a roaring trade. The men had been told that such places were off limits, but even the officers had been spotted in them, drinking their fill and having sex with prostitutes. Officers ordered the men not to use the taverns, but they did nothing to enforce the order, nor did they plan to spoil what little fun their soldiers had in this dreary war.
Jacob’s jaded enthusiasm for army life was coupled by his unceasing worries about his family and Stone Plantation. Hendry was at sea with the Carrabelle. He had not said much about what exactly he was up to, but Jacob had read between the lines and was convinced that Hendry was protecting blockade runners, trying to get through the federal net on the Atlantic coast. This work would suit the Carrabelle, he thought, for she was fast, with great manoeuvring abilities.
In his last letter, Hendry had also spoken about Belle. His wife was unhappy living at Stone Plantation, he’d written. It seemed that after three months, she no longer wished to live so far away from the navy yard in Portsmouth. Hendry had also informed him that her parents did not find plantation life to their liking and that they desired a return to Portsmouth’s city routines. Jacob understood Belle’s yearning to live in close proximity to Hendry’s base. He could also imagine her parents struggling to adapt to plantation life, but this news could not have come at a worse time.
