Читать книгу Her Rebel Heart - Shannon Farrington - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Sam kept walking until he ended up at the wharf. Sunset was approaching and the local fishermen were making their way back to port. Their vessels were loaded with rockfish and blue crabs, a bountiful harvest from the Chesapeake Bay. He had often come to watch the ships roll in. It was a satisfying sight, a long hard day of work ended, the harbor tranquil and deep.

Tonight the local vessels had to steer and maneuver more than usual for the Baltimore harbor was also full of military ships. Their masts stood stall and black against the orange and purple sky. Sam tried to focus on the crabbing vessels. If he stared at them alone, life appeared to be peaceful.

But life isn’t peaceful nor will it be for quite some time.

Sighing, he turned toward Federal Hill. An American flag flapped in the evening breeze while men in blue stood as sentinels over the city. Sam sadly thought how appropriate the hill’s identity now was. Named nearly one hundred years before, it was on that very spot that Marylanders had celebrated the ratification of the Federal Constitution. No one then ever dreamed the site would be prime high ground for an occupying army with guns turned on its own citizens.

When I stepped off that train I walked onto a battlefield, he thought.

His fists clenched and his blood raced just thinking of that April day. Sam had returned home having completed his studies and graduation exercises in Philadelphia. As they had planned through their letters, Julia and Edward had met his train.

The President Street station was filled with citizens and Massachusetts soldiers. Sam had assumed the regiment was on their way to Washington, but had paid little attention to them. Though the business in South Carolina and Virginia was tantamount to insurrection, it had not concerned him. His only thoughts were of Julia, their long-awaited reunion and the July wedding they had planned.

She had been waiting for him beneath the clock, a red and black bonnet on her head and the smile on her face that he found so irresistible. Samuel had barely spared a glance in Edward’s direction as he’d drawn her in, at least as close as her hoop and ruffled skirts would allow.

“I have missed you,” he’d said.

Her eyes had been full of love. “I have missed you as well.”

As they’d exchanged words of devotion and promise, neither one noticed that the Massachusetts soldiers had formed a column, that they had begun to march toward the southbound train lines on Bolton Street. None of them had realized how angry the citizens around them had become until someone bumped Julia from behind. She’d crashed into Sam’s chest. The crowd was fast becoming a mob.

“We should leave,” he’d said to Edward.

“Indeed. This way! Double quick!”

They’d turned for the street. Edward ducked as a stone whizzed past his head. Rocks and bottles were flying. Sam did his best to shelter Julia from the debris while her brother led them through the crowd. The citizens were shouting insults at the soldiers. Some of the soldiers were beginning to answer back. Sam feared they would soon use more than ugly words.

“Where is the carriage?” he’d asked Edward.

“Over here!”

They’d done their best to cross the street. Pressing hard against the angry flow, they had been like salmon swimming upstream. By the time they’d reached Pratt Street, paving stones were being ripped from the roadbed. Carts and wagons were overturned. Julia tripped twice on her skirts.

Tears had silvered her lashes. “What is happening? Why is everyone acting this way?”

“Hurry. We must hurry.”

Screams erupted as a volley of gunfire sent the masses scurrying. “They are shooting at us!” Julia cried. “The soldiers are shooting at us!”

Instinctively, Sam shoved Julia into a narrow alley, knocking loose her bonnet. He and Edward then fell in behind.

He’d thought that would be the end of it, that cooler heads would prevail and peace would return. He was wrong. War had come. His best friend had left to fight and the woman he loved now wanted no part of the life they had planned together.

Sam’s shoulders fell with another long, labored sigh. He knew the conflict between him and Julia stemmed from that day on Pratt Street. She had recently confessed to having nightmares about the incident and was wary of walking anywhere in public. She loathed and feared the Federal soldiers who had brought such chaos and destruction to her city.

Nearly a dozen Baltimoreans had died and countless others were wounded. Edward sought his solace in taking a stand against troops who would open fire in the presence of innocent civilians. Sam understood such a response but he could not bring himself to join Edward’s cause.

And yet to do nothing…

He snatched his topper from his head and raked his fingers through his hair. Standing on the dock, he gazed at the might of the Federal forces. Would scenes like the one at the train station be repeated? Were worse things to come?

Where are You God? Have You turned Your back on us, on this city? What are we supposed to do now?

Though Sam waited, God did not answer. A cool breeze blew over the harbor. The smell of fish drifted past his nose. By now it was almost dark. Replacing his hat and thrusting his hands deep in his pockets, he turned back toward Mount Vernon. The shops along Pratt Street were closing up for the evening. The lamplighter was making his rounds. Sam walked past him. The man nodded pleasantly, then moved on to his next lamppost. Sam couldn’t help but wonder which side the man and his family had chosen.

Are they pro-Union or pro-secession? Are they united or divided?

By the time Sam reached Monument Square he met up with a small contingent of Federal soldiers. Even in the semidarkness he could see that their uniforms were new and blue. They had brass buckles on their belts, polished muskets on their shoulders. He wondered if they had ever seen conflict before.

A corporal in the group eyed him suspiciously. Assuming he was just another renegade in a neighborhood full of Southern sympathizers, the man fell out of step long enough to glare at Sam. He nodded politely to the soldier, then kept walking. He had no quarrel with the corporal and he wanted to keep it that way.

The neighborhood doors were shut tight and the curtains drawn. The Stanton home was no exception. As Sam passed by he wondered what Julia was doing at that very moment. Had she baked another loaf of bread? Was the kindling box empty? Resisting the urge to knock on the door and find out, he kept walking.

He lived a few blocks north of Mount Vernon. His was a quieter street and his brick home more modest than those in Julia’s neighborhood. Sam’s home was furnished sparsely, little more than the necessities. He had never minded the bare solitude before. It was conducive to study. Tonight, however, the house just seemed empty and cold.

I will start the stove, he thought, warm up something to eat.

He checked the kindling box. It was running low. He immediately thought of Julia and the look on her face when she saw him in her father’s study. Pain squeezed his heart.

She did not wish to see me.

Sam lit a lantern. Once more he took off his frock coat and went outside. He picked up his own ax and set to the task of splitting wood. That which had earlier been done as a labor of love was now an act of drudgery.

Sunday morning dawned warm and humid, a foretaste of the oppressive summer to come. Julia dressed for church but found that her mind was far from worship. She was concerned about what the atmosphere of the morning service would be like. Many of her fellow parishioners already knew of Edward’s enlistment and those that didn’t would soon find out. She wondered what some would say. There had been tension in the congregation before the occupation of the city. Many families supported States’ Rights. Just as many others professed loyalty to the Union.

Oh, Lord, please don’t let there be a scene.

She climbed into the back of her father’s carriage. The seat seemed so empty without Edward beside her. She wondered where her brother was that morning. Had he and the rest of the Guard crossed safely into Virginia? What, if anything, had he had to eat?

After whispering a prayer for his safety her thoughts returned to church. She wondered if Samuel would be waiting on the front steps when they arrived. He always walked to the building early, saying he enjoyed the serenity of the Lord’s Day morning. He would wait for her carriage to come to a stop then help her out. He’d give her hand a squeeze. She would smile.

I won’t smile this morning, she thought, even if he is there.

Her father rolled the carriage to a stop in front of the church. Fellow worshippers clustered about the yard but Samuel wasn’t there. Julia felt an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. She climbed slowly from her father’s carriage then followed her parents into the building.

The windows were open, yet the room was stuffy. Creatures of habit, most parishioners sat in their usual pews each Sunday. Today, the people were scattered about. Longtime friends were now on separate sides of the aisle. Even some families were divided. A tension filled the air. No one seemed to be breathing.

Julia knew exactly what had happened. A chill ran through her. They have chosen sides, she thought. And now they will watch to see what we do.

She glanced at her father. He did not hesitate. Dr. Stanton led his wife to their usual pew, five from the front on the left-hand side. They sat down. Julia adjusted her hoop. She opened her fan. The chill had passed and now she was sweating.

Within seconds after taking their seat, Charlie Johnson, a local businessman and friend of the family, slipped in behind her father. He whispered, though his words were loud enough that Julia could hear them.

“Thomas, for goodness’ sake, what are you doing? Edward has enlisted. Why are you sitting on this side of the church?”

Julia blanched. She realized to what Mr. Johnson was referring. They were sitting with those members who had expressed their support for the Federal occupation. Families with sons fighting for the Confederacy were seated on the right side of the congregation. Julia wanted to shrink from view.

Her father did not flinch. “We are sitting where we always have, Charlie,” he said calmly. “This is our family pew. It always has been. It always will be.”

Mr. Johnson let out a huff but moved back to his seat without further argument. A murmur swept over the congregation. Julia sat frozen, eyes staring straight ahead. She was glad that her bonnet limited her view to what was directly in front of her. She did not want to see what was happening around her. She knew the whispers were about her family.

The pew creaked and Julia realized someone else was approaching. She held her breath, fearing another confrontation about their seating arrangements. She cocked her head ever so slightly, just enough to see who was coming.

It was Samuel.

He was dressed in his finest brown frock coat, Bible in his hand. His face was calm, undisturbed. He looked like he was the only person in the building who had come to worship.

He nodded to Julia’s parents. Then he sat down beside her, just as he had every Sunday for years. He gave her a long measured look. The weight of his gaze caused her to tremble. She wanted to ask him what he was doing joining them as if nothing had changed. But given what had just taken place with Charlie Johnson, the last thing she wanted was to cause more contention over the seating arrangements.

He smiled at her. Though she tried to ignore it, her heart was fluttering.

Reverend Perry then took to the pulpit and the service began. Julia could not say what songs they sang or what Scriptures they read. She was distracted by Samuel’s presence. Part of her welcomed it, the other couldn’t fathom it.

How can he sit beside me as though nothing has happened? I have told him that I do not wish to marry him. Why can’t he take no for an answer?

She stole glances at him. There he sat with his Bible on his lap, lost in reading. It was as though, in his mind, there were no guns, no war, as though all the world was right. Julia was even more puzzled. How can he act this way? Doesn’t he care? Doesn’t he worry for Edward’s sake? For the sake of this city?

It was only when Samuel bowed his head did she realize that Reverend Perry was closing the service in prayer. Julia also closed her eyes. She tried to focus, to be respectful.

“Lord, we humbly ask Thee to grant President Lincoln wisdom.”

A murmur rippled through the right side of the room. Julia was as surprised by his words as the rest of the group was. All thoughts of conversing with the Almighty dissipated and her focus shifted to Reverend Perry’s words alone. She held her breath. The Reverend did not stop with his petition for Lincoln. He also prayed for the officers and soldiers occupying the city.

He is making his position known, she thought. He is obviously siding with the Union.

“And we ask Thee to guard our young men who have chosen to fight…”

In shock, her head went up. Just when she thought she had him pegged as a supporter of the Federal Army, the Reverend prayed for the safety of eight men who had enlisted for the Confederacy. All eight were sons of the congregation. When Edward’s name was mentioned, tears squeezed past her eyelids and a cry escaped her lips. Julia had to fight hard to keep from breaking down completely.

Just when she felt her composure crumbling, she felt the warmth of a hand slide over and around her trembling fingers. Samuel had taken her hand in his. His touch conveyed the love, the strength, the same comfort as it always had. In spite of herself, Julia clasped it tightly while whispering her own prayer on Edward’s behalf.

GODCOMFORTHER, Sam thought. He stole a glance at Julia’s face. Her head was bowed and she was clutching a lace handkerchief to her mouth. He could understand the pain she was feeling. Edward’s departure was bad enough but coupled with the way he had parted, the tension in the family that night, it only made things worse. Sam regretted every minute of their conversation.

Edward had been called to the armory during a dreadful thunderstorm. Little did Sam know Federal troops were in the process of occupying the city. When Edward returned home that night he announced the terrible news.

“The armory has been stripped,” he’d said, his face a mixture of wild emotions. “Any man who would take a gun and hide it was given one.”

I was angry that he had brought the muskets to the house. I know he only hoped to protect his family with them but I didn’t see it that way then. All I could think of was Federal soldiers tearing the house apart to find them. All I could think of was what they might do to her.

“Edward,” Sam had said, “the Northern troops will realize what has happened. They will search the houses. They will find the guns. If you hide them here you are putting your mother and sister at risk.”

“Then I’ll take the muskets with me. I’ll take them south, tonight.”

Everyone in the room realized what he had just said, though shock stole the words of objection from their lips. Only Julia had been able to find her voice.

“No, Edward! No! You can’t do such a thing!”

Her mother then also began to plead. “Son, please. Think about this. You don’t want to do this.”

“Yes, I do. I am going to personally see that the Federal Army is thrown out of Baltimore!”

He’d looked to Dr. Stanton. “It is our duty to protect our city, our state. Father, I know you can’t fight. Your leg would never allow it, so the duty is left to those who can.”

He then looked at Samuel. He’d held out a musket. “Come with me.”

Tossing the invading army out of the city for the sake of Julia’s safety so strongly appealed to Sam that he nearly reached for the gun, until he realized, defending States’ Rights meant defending them all.

“No,” Sam had said.

Edward lowered the musket with a look of shock on his face. “What did you say?”

The thoughts fired through his head. Protect her and freedom! Fight! It took everything Sam had within him to stand firm.

“I said no.”

A scowl crossed Edward’s face. “Not even now? You won’t fight, even now? You won’t defend the rights of your state?”

“By defending rights are you including slavery?”

“I’m not fighting for slaves one way or the other! Look man, a Federal battery has taken aim at our front door! If we don’t stand against such tyranny, who will?”

“I won’t go with you.”

“Then you are a coward.” Edward then turned to Julia. “You should give serious consideration to the kind of man you are marrying.”

Sam stared now at Julia’s ringless hand in his. Hers was so delicate, so fragile compared to his gnarled fingers. Lord, forgive me, I thought Edward was acting like a fool. We both just wanted to protect her. I understand why he felt the way he did.

He stroked her fingers, praying for reconciliation. After what had happened on Pratt Street every fiber, every nerve in Sam’s body pleaded for him to fight. It was not cowardice that kept him from doing so. It was the belief that God had chosen another path for him. I cannot condone slavery. If only Julia could realize that.

Sam had tried to explain it to her. When Edward had thumped up the staircase, muddy boots, muskets and all, Julia had turned her eyes to him. He saw the doubt in them, the fear. He knew Edward’s words carried great weight.

“Julia,” he said as he moved to embrace her, “You know I would give my life for you but this isn’t the way—”

“Go with him, Samuel. Please.”

Her request had shocked him. “Do you really want me to leave? Do you really know what war is?”

“No, of course not! I don’t want you to go! I don’t want any of you to go! I don’t want any of this to be happening!”

“Then think about what you are saying. We must stay together! We must convince Edward not to go south.”

“He won’t listen! He would rather die than dishonor his state! Samuel, please! Go with him. Only you can take care of him.”

“Julia, I can’t willingly support the position the South is taking. I can’t condone slavery.”

Pure confusion filled her eyes. “But we don’t even own slaves!”

“I can’t support a government which allows others to do so.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized how ridiculous they sounded. He had sealed his fate.

“You have supported one thus far!” she said, tears hardening into anger. “How many Maryland plantations on the eastern shore rely on slaves? You are using that as an excuse! I have never known you to march with the abolitionists! Edward is right! You are a coward!”

She ripped the engagement ring from her finger. “I will not marry you!”

Sitting beside her now, he continued to hold her hand as Reverend Perry prayed. Sam knew Julia had begged him to join Edward not because she wished for war but because she feared for her brother’s safety—and for their own. He had no quarrel with her brother. He would give anything to see their relationship restored, their family reunited.

Lord, I believe that slavery is wrong but my own state supports it! And what of Dr. Carter and his abolitionist friends? What if they are radicals? What if they advocate the methods of John Brown?

The newspapers had been full of stories just a few months ago concerning the raid on Harper’s Ferry. The town was held hostage. People were killed.

I don’t know which position is right or which side to be on. All I know is that I love her. Show me Your will…

If Reverend Perry had meant for his prayer to be a comfort, it had just the opposite effect. When the congregation was dismissed many of the women were in tears and the men were grumbling.

Julia was pale, pensive, lost in her own private world. Sam led her from the pew, her arm through his. The air inside the church was stifling and he worried that she might faint. He steered her to the door and down the front steps. A slight breeze wafted across the churchyard. Julia seemed glad for it. Her face pinkened.

The fact that she was allowing him to lead her was a good sign. Perhaps today we can iron out our differences. We can commit to navigating the unknown together.

Once outside, parishioners began conversing. Reverend Perry’s prayer was the subject of much of the discussion. Sam caught snatches of it as he walked Julia to the carriage.

“That man is riding the fence! Waiting to see which side prevails!”

“Praying for Lincoln! He should be praying for the souls of those on Federal Hill!”

Sam ignored their words. He waited as Dr. Stanton helped his wife inside the carriage. He studied Julia. She was still silent but her color was definitely improving with the fresh air. While they were waiting, Warren Meade, one of Dr. Stanton’s patients, approached them. Julia’s father had recently set his broken arm.

Sam nodded to the man and Dr. Stanton smiled when he saw him. “Warren, how’s your arm today?”

“Fine,” the man said gruffly.

“The pain is diminishing?”

“Yes, but I am not here to talk about that.”

“Oh?” said Dr. Stanton.

“I am here to tell you that I have found a new physician.”

Julia’s father blinked. “Is something wrong?”

The man was obviously angry and whatever the disagreement between patient and doctor, Sam thought it best to give them privacy. He helped Julia into the carriage. His back was to the ongoing discussion. Julia had just taken a seat when all of a sudden, Warren Meade said loud enough for everyone to hear,

“Slavery is a sin! God won’t protect men who fight for it!”

Sam cringed. He knew the reference was in regard to Edward. Julia knew as well. Her eyes narrowed. Her jaw stiffened.

“Don’t pay any attention to that,” he said to her. “He doesn’t realize what he is saying.” He reached for her hand.

She pulled it back. Her eyes held the same look that Edward’s had the night he left for Virginia.

“Samuel,” she said slowly, mouth set tight. “I must ask you not to visit my house or sit in my family pew again.”

He was stunned.

Warren Meade must have stormed off after making his point, for Dr. Stanton climbed into the carriage.

“It is time to go,” he said. He sounded as though there was a lot more that he wanted to say but was holding his tongue. He glanced at his wife, his daughter, then at Sam. “Son, will you be joining us for dinner?”

Sam could not get past the look of contempt in Julia’s eyes. She had apparently classified him in the same category as Warren Meade. He wanted to tell her that he thought nothing of the kind about her or her father. He wanted her to know that he prayed for Edward daily, just as she.

But he could not find the words.

Dr. Stanton was waiting for an answer. Sam looked at him.

“No,” he said. “Thank you, but I must tend to some things at home.”

Dr. Stanton nodded. He gave his horse a click. “Then soon,” he said and the carriage rolled away.

The carriage rocked back and forth as the wheels rolled over the cobblestone. No one said a word. They traveled in silence toward Monument Square. Federal soldiers were stationed periodically throughout the public gardens. Hands shaking, Julia closed her eyes. She did not want to see them. The sight of the men was nauseating.

She tried to think of happier times as she wobbled in her seat. She remembered how, as a child, she and Edward would ride to church. Julia would be dressed in her finest laces. Edward would purposefully tug at her skirts, trying to wrinkle them. He would knock into her as they turned corners, overexaggerating the carriage’s motion.

“Edward!” she would whine.

“Julia!” he would answer back.

They would fuss. They would argue. Their mother would scold them into silent submission but they could never remain quiet or still for very long.

She then thought of her first carriage ride with Samuel, their first outing as a courting couple. Edward was chosen as the chaperone. Planted squarely in the front bench seat, he purposefully sped through the streets of Baltimore. He’d taken corners with lightning speed and had managed to find every bump in the road.

Samuel had only laughed, and slapped Edward on the shoulder. “Drive faster!” He’d slid his arm around her. Shocked, Julia looked at him.

He’d grinned innocently. “I am just making certain that you don’t fall out of the carriage.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Samuel had done the same.

Friends and coconspirators, she thought. Now they are on opposite sides.

A family must stick together. A church should stick together.

She had seen the flash in Samuel’s eyes when Warren Meade made his vehement declaration. She knew it had angered him. He knew it had angered her.

But he did nothing. He didn’t even turn around and face the man. He just stood there! He let the man condemn my brother, my family!

Her anger swelled.

Samuel isn’t the least bit interested in defending Edward’s name, or any of the rest of my family. For all I know, he agrees with Warren Meade.

She crossed her arms in front of her, mind certain. I have made the right decision.