Candle In The Darkness Part 27

The queasy feeling returned at the thought of aiding in a prison escape. "I think I know how Rahab felt when she helped Joshua's spies escape from Jericho," I said. "I know that the Bible portrays her as a heroine, but it never occurred to me before that she had to betray her own city, her own people, in order to help her enemies escape."

"You know why she did it? Bible say it's because she believe in the power of G.o.d. She know He gonna have His way, and she determine to be His servant, no matter the cost."

"What if that cost includes Charles?" I asked quietly.

Eli sighed. "I know this ain't easy to hear, but G.o.d never take something away without giving us something even better in return-if not in this life, then in the next."

I shook my head. "If I lose Charles, I don't want anything else. And I can't imagine what G.o.d could possibly give Rahab that could replace her home or her family and friends."

Eli snapped the reins, and the mare began to a trot as she pulled the buggy up Church Hill. "Bible say Rahab's family got saved along with her. But if you want to see what else G.o.d done for Rahab, you read the first chapter of Matthew when you get home."

I turned to the pa.s.sage when I was alone in my bedroom. At first I thought I must be reading the wrong pa.s.sage-this was a list of Jesus' family tree. Then my tears suddenly blurred the page. Named among our Lord's ancestors was the traitor and spy, Rahab.

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I waited anxiously for Charles to answer my letter about visiting Robert in Libby Prison. When one finally arrived from him, I was afraid to read it. I knew it was the reply to my letter because he'd used the same envelope I had. A shortage of paper all over the South made it necessary to reuse every envelope by carefully opening the seams, folding it inside out, then re-gluing it. I turned the envelope over and over in my hands for the longest time before finally gathering the courage to open it and read it.

My dearest Caroline, How I long to see you. I'm looking at your picture as I write this and remembering all our wonderful times together. I even have fond memories of the arguments we used to have when we first met. You have a way of keeping me on my toes, making sure I don't take myself too seriously, and I love you for that. You look so beautiful in your picture-the most beautiful woman in the entire regiment-but I'd much rather be holding you in my arms right now than gazing at your image. When I think of how long it has been since I held you and kissed you, I sometimes feel close to despair. But I always draw hope by dreaming of our future together.We are wintering here outside Fredericksburg, and the weather has been freezing cold. The Yankees sh.e.l.led the city before they attacked it, then looted what was left of it. Don't worry, my regiment remained safely above it on Marye's Heights. It seems that war consists of only two extremes-endless hours of tedious waiting, followed by unending moments of pure terror. We don't even have time to mourn the friends who are struck down alongside us. But I think we are winning this war. Our city-and you-are still safe, and I thank G.o.d for that.I must admit that I'm not happy about your visits to the prison, but not for the same reasons as my father. I fell in love with you because you are a woman of deep convictions, with the moral courage to stand up for those convictions (even when it means clubbing men on the streets of Richmond). Although I would hate to see your reputation unjustly tarnished, I love you more than ever for not allowing the fear of what other people might think to deter you from doing what G.o.d wants you to do.No, it isn't the gossip that worries me, nor am I jealous of your cousin Robert. You will always have my complete trust. But I am very concerned for your safety. I've seen how men can sometimes turn into animals under such dire circ.u.mstances as imprisonment, and my imagination envisions a prison uprising with you being held as hostage. I know Eli would protect you at all costs, and I'm grateful that he accompanies you on your visits. But he's only one man against how many thousands of Yankees? If I can't persuade you not to go to the prison for your own safety's sake, then I beg you to please, please be careful.It's hard to believe that I have been in the army for more than a year and a half now, and I haven't been home to see you except for that one quick visit at Rocketts Wharf. I never imagined that the war would last this long. I've been hoping to receive a furlough for Christmas to celebrate the second anniversary of our engagement, but it doesn't look as though anyone will get a furlough. The Yankees are still camped too close, across the Rappahannock River at Falmouth, and we can't risk sending anyone home. I'll think of you on that blessed day-as I do every day-and pray that this will be our last Christmas apart.I must close before I become unbearably sad-and I make you sad along with me. This is the season of great hope, so let's draw hope for our future from the hope we have in Christ. G.o.d bless you, Caroline. I love you more than words can say.Charles

Chapter Nineteen.

December 1862.

"Don't know how I'm supposed to make a decent meal when there ain't no b.u.t.ter," Esther grumbled as she set a bowl of yams on the table.

"Never mind you fussing," Eli said. "Just sit yourself down now so I can say the blessing."

The fragrant kitchen was a wonderful blend of smells-cinnamon and cloves, smoky bacon and ham, onions and mola.s.ses. "If it tastes half as good as it smells," I told Esther, "we'll never miss the b.u.t.ter."

The six servants and I had gathered around the scrubbed pine table in the kitchen for a simple Christmas Eve dinner. I hadn't been able to convince Tessie or any of the others to eat in the house at the big dining room table with me. "Just ain't right for us to eat there," Tessie insisted. "Just ain't fitting for servants to eat where the ma.s.sa do." So rather than eat alone, I joined all of them at the kitchen table.

In spite of Esther's remonstrations, she had created a beautiful meal of yams, biscuits, the last slices of ham from Hilltop, her own special version of hopping John with beans and bacon, and shoofly pie for dessert. Eli bowed his head to pray.

"Don't be giving a whole sermon, now," Esther warned, "or this food gonna be stone cold." Luella and Ruby snickered.

"Ma.s.sa Jesus," Eli prayed, "you been real good to us this year. We got plenty food to eat and plenty love to share round this table, and we thank you for both these things. We ask you to watch over our loved ones who're far away, and bring them back to us just as soon as you see fit. We know you always in control, because you are G.o.d Almighty. And we know you love us more than anything in the world because you sent your Son on that first Christmas night. We love you, too, Lord. And anything you want . . . well, we're here to do it for you. Thank you, Ma.s.sa Jesus. Amen."

"Amen," I repeated. I started to reach for the bowl of yams, but Ruby sprang to her feet and insisted on serving me. None of the others would put a single morsel of food on their plates until I had been served and had taken my first bite.

"Mmm. This is delicious, Esther. You've prepared a feast," I said.

"My whole life I never pay more than twenty cents a pound for b.u.t.ter," she grumbled. "You know what they asking now, Missy Caroline? Man wanted four dollars! Four dollars Four dollars for one pound of b.u.t.ter! Couldn't believe my eyes. He say, 'You gonna buy that b.u.t.ter or you just gonna stare at it?' I tell him, 'I'm gonna keep staring till I see what make this b.u.t.ter so special it cost four dollars.' b.u.t.ter that expensive too valuable to eat. Even b.u.t.ter you get in heaven don't cost no four dollars a pound." for one pound of b.u.t.ter! Couldn't believe my eyes. He say, 'You gonna buy that b.u.t.ter or you just gonna stare at it?' I tell him, 'I'm gonna keep staring till I see what make this b.u.t.ter so special it cost four dollars.' b.u.t.ter that expensive too valuable to eat. Even b.u.t.ter you get in heaven don't cost no four dollars a pound."

Luella looked up from her dinner in surprise. "You mean we be paying for things in heaven, too? I thought everything up there gonna be free."

"Don't listen to her, Luella," Eli said. "Everything free in heaven, even the b.u.t.ter."

"I did buy a little bacon for the hopping John," Esther said, "on account of it being Christmas. But I ain't even saying what I pay for that. Before the war, I can buy twenty pounds of bacon for the price they charging me now for one measly pound. I want to know what they feeding them pigs to make their sorry little rumps cost so much."

Eli grinned. "Maybe they feeding them some of that fourdollar b.u.t.ter."

The laughter and love we shared that night in the steamy kitchen brought back happy memories of my childhood. The only sorrow came with my thoughts of Grady, taken from us nearly ten years ago.

Christmas dinner at the St. Johns' the following day wasn't nearly as enjoyable as my simple meal with the servants. Mr. St. John still acted coolly toward me, and Sally's vibrancy was dimmed with worry over Jonathan. Reminders of Charles and of our engagement party two years ago magnified my loneliness. We would have been married eighteen months ago if it hadn't been for the war, enjoying our second Christmas as husband and wife. We might even have been blessed with a child by now.

The melancholy I felt was echoed all over Richmond as people gazed at the empty chairs around their tables. For many of the women from our sewing circle, mourning dress replaced their usual Christmas finery. Mrs. Goode's son was now crippled with an amputated leg, and only two of Mrs. Randolph's five sons were still fighting-one had been killed, one wounded, and one taken captive. If the war didn't end soon, I feared it was only a matter of time before something terrible happened to Charles. With all the fierce fighting he'd done, it was a miracle that he had remained uninjured for as long as he had.

Even though the St. Johns weren't in mourning, their holiday parties lacked the extravagant luxuries they'd been famous for before the war. Food shortages, inflated prices, and our depreciating currency had affected all of us, rich and poor. Sally confided that her father had invested heavily in Confederate bonds to support the war effort; that production in his flour mills had plummeted after Virginia's grain-growing regions had fallen to the enemy; and that he was now worrying about his finances for the first time in his life. Neither Sally nor I wore new dresses. They cost more than three times what they had before the war. Instead, we had carefully disa.s.sembled our worn dresses, then turned, cut, and re-sewed each piece so that frayed hems and threadbare collars wouldn't show.

In early winter, a new fear rocked the city when we were struck by an outbreak of smallpox. Doctors quarantined the victims in a hospital on the outskirts of town or in homes displaying a white flag in their windows, but no one escaped the dread of contracting the disease. Rumors raged that our enemies had purposefully sent it, but I saw it as yet another plague inflicted on us by our own hardness of heart. Hadn't we already seen plagues of darkness and famine and rivers of blood?

Illness struck the army camps as well, with dysentery, typhoid, diphtheria, and pneumonia claiming hundreds of soldiers who had successfully dodged bullets and Minie b.a.l.l.s. Everyone in camp is coughing, Everyone in camp is coughing, Charles wrote. Charles wrote. The Yankees can probably hear us clear across the Rappahannock The Yankees can probably hear us clear across the Rappahannock.

On New Year's Day, 1863, President Lincoln's Emanc.i.p.ation Proclamation officially granted all of the slaves in all of the Confederate states their freedom. But across the South, nothing changed for the Negroes as the war plodded on. I decided that helping Robert escape was the least I could do to win freedom for my slaves.

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On a cold January morning, Eli and I set out to explore the fenced yard east of Libby Prison, the best potential exit site for Robert's tunnel. We agreed that I would go inside Kerr's Warehouse, which faced Cary Street, while Eli snooped around in the vacant lot adjacent to it. We parked the carriage across from the prison and walked back to the warehouse so that I could pace the lot's width; I found out Robert would have to dig a tunnel thirtythree paces long.

I left Eli outside and stepped through the warehouse door into a tiny, square office. The clerk seated at a desk inside the door looked tired and ill and at least seventy-five years old. Good manners required him to stand in a woman's presence, so I scanned the small office as he struggled to his feet.

"I'd like to speak to Mr. Gallagher, please," I told him, fabricating a name.

"Who? Gallagher?" he repeated. "There's no one here by that name."

I had hoped there would be a window overlooking the backyard, but the only window faced the street. The door leading into the rest of the warehouse was closed.

"I was told Mr. Gallagher was the manager here," I said.

"You were told wrong. I'm the manager. Name's Kerr, like the sign says. Maybe I can help you."

"I don't think so. I need to see Mr. Gallagher on personal business. It concerns his sister. Is it possible that he worked here before the war? Maybe someone else might know where I can reach him." If Mr. Kerr went into the back to check, perhaps I could catch a glimpse through the open door. But he didn't move. His weary, unfriendly expression didn't change, either.

"Never has been anyone here by that name. I've worked here fifty-two years. I would know."

"Oh dear. I wonder if I have the wrong warehouse?" I tried to act fl.u.s.tered, digging around in my reticule as if searching for something, but I was really stalling to give Eli more time outside. "Now, where did I put that address? There isn't another Kerr's Warehouse in Richmond, is there?"

"Not that I know of."

He sounded irritated. I delayed as long as I dared, painstakingly removing my gloves, searching my coat pockets, and going through the contents of my reticule again. When Mr. Kerr looked as though he might throw me out the door, I thanked him for his trouble. "I'm very sorry to have bothered you."

Eli hurried over to the carriage to compare notes with me as soon as he saw me. "The warehouse was a dead end," I told him. "There's no view out the back. Were you able to learn anything?"

He shook his head. "Not a thing. I act like I'm bored, waiting for you. Walk all around the empty lot, looking at the ground like I expecting to find treasure. Got near the fence but it's too high to see over."

"Were the prison sentries watching?"

"You bet. One of them ask what I'm doing but I play like I just a crazy old slave looking around for pennies. They yell for me to get on out of there, so I did-taking my time, of course."

"What if they remember that we were snooping around, after the prison break?"

"Let's worry about that when it happen."

We waited a few days. Then on a snowy, overcast morning, Eli and I drove down to Ca.n.a.l Street and went inside the other building that shared the fenced yard-the James River Towing Company. This time the low-ceilinged office ran the width of the building, and there were indeed a pair of windows overlooking the rear yard. Unfortunately, shutters covered the lower half of the gla.s.s, blocking the view. Three desks shared s.p.a.ce in the cramped office, but only one of them was occupied-by another very elderly man. Manners or not, he looked too frail to stand and made no attempt to do so. A wooden countertop separated his area of the office from the public.

"May I help you?" he called.

I put on my sweetest smile. "I hope so. I'd like to inquire about your towing rates. Do you haul only for commercial companies, or would you consider a small private contract?"

"You want us to haul your household goods, right?"

"Yes, how did you know? I'm concerned about protecting our family's heirlooms if the city should be torched. Do you get a lot of requests of this sort?"

Eli rocked on his tiptoes beside me as I talked, trying to peer over the shutters. We were still too far away to see out the windows. We had to get closer.

"Sure do," the man said with a sigh. "But we have more business than we can handle just hauling ore down the ca.n.a.l to Tredegar's. Not nearly enough labor, either, with everyone off to war. You wouldn't be interested in leasing that big Negro of yours, would you?" he asked, gesturing toward Eli.

"No, sorry. I've had a lot of offers for Eli, but I need him myself." I glanced all around the office while we talked and I spotted a yellow cat on the other side of the counter, curled up asleep on one of the desks. "What a lovely cat. May I pet her? Is she friendly?" I sidled through the opening in the counter without waiting for his reply. Eli followed as if he'd been trained to stay glued to my heels. The man didn't stop us.

"Cat's friendly enough, I suppose. I don't keep her for company. She's a pretty decent mouser."

"You don't say? We have a terrible problem with mice in our stable, don't we, Eli? They're always into the feed, and they make an awful mess. Would you consider selling her?" The cat purred as I stroked her head.

"Nope, can't sell her. I need her myself. She's always having kittens every time I turn around, though. You're welcome to the whole litter of them. I'll just have to toss them in the ca.n.a.l, otherwise."

I glanced over the shutters into the yard while he talked and saw why they had blocked the view. Overgrown weeds, rusted machinery, and piles of used lumber poked through the thin blanket of snow. But aside from a tool shed and all the junk, the yard was empty. I gave the cat a final scratch behind her ears and slowly retraced my steps toward the door.

"Thank you for your time," I said. "I'll stop by in the spring for a kitten, so make sure you don't drown them all."

We walked outside into the gray afternoon. Fresh snow dusted our carriage like talc.u.m powder. "I guess we found our spot," Eli said. "Just an empty yard. Nothing in it but junk."

"You don't suppose the office hires a night watchman, do you?"

Eli shook his head. "Man said there ain't no one to hire."

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The following afternoon we went to Libby Prison to tell Robert the good news. "I think Eli and I have found a good exit site for your tunnel," I said.

Robert stopped eating the cornbread I'd brought him and looked up in surprise. "How far will I have to dig?"

"Only about fifty feet-thirty-three paces, to be exact. You'll surface inside a fenced yard where the guards can't see you."

He stared into the distance for a long moment as if trying to visualize his freedom. "This couldn't come at a better time," he said. "We've loosened enough bricks to crawl inside the chimney that runs through the center of my building. We just broke through into the bas.e.m.e.nt last night. The east cellar is empty. There's a kitchen and some cells for condemned prisoners in the middle one, but otherwise there's nothing much down there except rats."

Robert seemed stronger, saner, now that he was doing something to control his fate. I didn't want to remind him of the penalty if he was caught.

"Can't the guards hear you chipping into the chimney?" I asked.

"We only work in the daytime when it's noisy. Sometimes if we're afraid the guards might hear us, we get all the men to sing or start an argument or yell at the lice races to cover up the noise.

But now that we've dug through the masonry, we'll be able to tunnel all night through the dirt."

"What on earth are you digging with?"

"Chunks of brick, sc.r.a.ps of metal, a couple of spoons-things like that. But as I said, now that we've reached the cellar we're stuck. We didn't know in which direction to dig or how far."

Eli had always stood silently beside the door without uttering a word, but he suddenly stepped forward between Robert and me. "Let me take it from here," he said. He squatted down and began drawing on the floor in the tobacco dust. "This here the northeast corner of the building. This the east wall . . . Go south to the second bas.e.m.e.nt window. If you start digging there . . . and go straight across beneath the empty lot for thirty-three paces . . . you come up here . . . behind a fence."

Robert was studying Eli, not the diagram. His expression was one of suspicion and disbelief. "Caroline, does he-?"

"You looking mighty amazed to see that I can talk," Eli said angrily. I'd seldom seen him this way. "Maybe you thinking there nothing up here but cotton?" he asked, tapping his head. "I always was told that Yankees see colored folk as real people. Always told that things is different up north. Guess I was told wrong."

"I'm sorry," Robert said. "Forgive me. Some of us from up north still need to change our att.i.tudes. Please continue."

"Missy Caroline doing this for me and Tessie and the others, you know. She got a lot of love in her heart. But I don't want her getting into trouble, see? So if something go wrong and you get caught, you tell them the truth-you tell them that it was Eli who showed you where to dig and how far. Understand?"

"I would never betray either one of you."

Eli bent to return to his drawing. "Like I say, this here the northeast corner of the building. Make sure you start your tunnel here . . . by the second bas.e.m.e.nt window. You be underneath a vacant lot. Go straight across it for thirty-three paces. Come up here, behind a tall fence where the guards never see you. You have to break into the south building-James River Towing Company. Then slip on out through the front door and you be on Ca.n.a.l Street. There still a chance the guards along the ca.n.a.l will see you, so you have to watch when they go around. Wait till they pa.s.s on by. You got all that?"

"Yes, thank you."

Eli swirled his hand in the dust to erase it. "Now I draw you a map so you know how to get out of the city." He showed Robert the main routes out of Richmond and explained which ones were the least traveled. "I show you again next time I come so you memorize it."

"Thank you for all your help, but that won't be necessary. I've already memorized it. From now on, we will never talk about any of this again."

"But I'd like to hear about your progress," I began, "and-"

"No!" Robert cut me off so quickly I jumped in surprise. "I'm sorry, Caroline, but I don't want you to know when I'm going to do this. That way you won't know anything about it and you can't be accused of helping. You'll just come to visit me here one day- and I'll be gone." He smiled faintly. It was the first one I remembered seeing since I'd started visiting months ago.

"I'll pray that you make it, Robert," I said.

"Amen," Eli added. "We both be praying."

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On a rainy night in early March, Eli startled me out of my wits when he appeared in the darkness beside my bed and shook me awake. "Missy Caroline? Missy. . . ? Better wake up and come with me. You friend Robert is here . . . and he's hurt."