A Light to My Path (46 page)

“For one thing, you may not realize it, but everything our regiment does is groundbreaking. Folks thought slaves were simple, fearful creatures who would run off in a panic when the first bomb exploded. You proved them wrong. Other people said slaves would never be able to handle military discipline—that they were flighty and lazy, quick to give up and slow to learn. But there have been fewer disciplinary actions and desertions in our regiment than in any white regiment in the Union army. People have been watching us. Our every move is reported in the Northern presses. And thanks to our success, several other all-Negro regiments have formed. There’s one up in Massachusetts that’s made up of free Negroes, not slaves. You should read some of the articles that they’re writing about us in the newspapers.”

Grady nodded, but he still couldn’t read. His lessons had ended when the regiment left for Jacksonville. He determined to return to his studies when he got back to Beaufort and learn to read those newspapers for himself.

“We broke new ground in Jacksonville, too,” Metcalf continued. “When those two white regiments arrived, it was the first time in history that white and black soldiers served together on regular duty. I witnessed a lot of mutual respect between the races back there. You proved that skin color doesn’t matter on the battlefield.”

While Captain Metcalf was speaking, Colonel Higginson himself—the regiment’s commanding officer—walked over to join them. Grady was stunned when Higginson entered the stream of conversation as if all three of them were white.

“I’ll tell you what else it accomplished,” the colonel said. “After John Brown’s slave rebellion, many Northerners believed that if we gave a slave a gun he’d exact vengeance, indiscriminately killing men, women, and children all over the South. That hasn’t happened. Except for that one civilian fatality, no whites were ever harmed in Jacksonville. And we only have the word of the man’s wife that it was Negro soldiers who killed him. Frankly, I don’t believe that it could have been anyone from my regiment. I’ve found my soldiers to be honest, honorable men.”

Grady stood very still, holding his breath. He didn’t dare speak, afraid he would betray his guilt. But when the colonel turned to him, Grady couldn’t help averting his gaze, pretending to look at the passing scenery.

“The former slaves’ exemplary behavior under arms has shamed the nation,” Higginson continued. “A lot of people up north are feeling guilty for not coming forward sooner to help free the slaves.”

“What’s your understanding of why we’re leaving?” Captain Metcalf asked the colonel. “Were the troops needed elsewhere? Were there too few to hold the post alone?”

“Maybe one of those was the case,” Higginson said with a shrug, “and maybe not. I’ll tell you what I think—but I have no proof. Our slave regiment has made history and changed a lot of prejudices. But there are still people in Congress who aren’t so eager to see slavery abolished. They’re willing to compromise with the South in order to bring this war to an end. Our regiment has freed a great many slaves … I wonder if maybe the pro-slavery people wanted the recruiting to halt.”

Anger boiled up inside Grady before he could stop it. “Anyone who’s thinking slavery is okay ought to come down here and try being a slave himself for a while! He ought to see how he likes being
owned
by someone. How it feels to be so powerless that even your own wife can’t be yours.”

The colonel nodded faintly and rested his hand on Grady’s shoulder. “I hope you realize, son, that the end of the war won’t bring an end to the battles your race will face. No, I’m afraid your fight is only beginning.”

Great Oak Plantation

Missy Claire’s face flushed with anger as she confronted her father at the dinner table. “You promised you’d take me back to Charleston for Easter! You can’t go back on your promise now!” Kitty had never heard Missy speak to Massa Goodman in that tone of voice before, and she shrank back into the doorway, fearing that both of their tempers would erupt. But Massa Goodman’s response was surprisingly patient.

“We can’t sail down the Edisto River anymore, Claire. Our soldiers have barricaded it near Wiltown Bluff to keep the Yankees out. Besides, we’d never get past the Union fleet that’s anchored outside Charleston harbor. It’s a dangerous trip, even for the blockade-runners—and they do it at night in ships that are much smaller and swifter than ours.”

“Can’t we go by carriage?”

He exhaled. “It’s a long, rough journey by carriage. The spring rains turn the roads into mud pits this time of year. We’d need a team of Negroes just to push us out of all the bogs. That’s why I go back and forth on horseback. Can’t you wait until summer?”

“No! I’m so bored out here! I want to visit with my friends in town and see our cousins. It’s been two years since I’ve been to Charleston. Please, Daddy. You promised.”

He kept his eyes on his plate as he cut off a piece of meat and chewed it slowly. “Don’t you think your baby is a bit young to travel so far?”

Missy frowned. “The baby isn’t going. He’s staying here with Mammy Bertha.”

Kitty looked at her mistress in surprise. She couldn’t imagine leaving her own child behind for months at a time. Babies grew so fast, changed so quickly. Kitty would miss little Richard while she was in Charleston, and he wasn’t even hers.

Richard had just celebrated his first birthday in February and was learning to toddle around the nursery on his sturdy white legs. It hardly seemed possible that a year had passed since Richard was born. That was the day Kitty’s life had changed so horribly, the day the Confederates had come for the horses and Missy had ordered Grady whipped and sent down to Slave Row.

“I wish you would change your mind about going to Charleston,” Massa Goodman said. But Kitty could have told her massa that the more he tried to discourage Missy Claire, the more determined she would be to go. Missy never gave up on anything until she got her own way.

A week later, the seamstress finished altering Missy Claire’s gowns, and Kitty packed them into steamer trunks for the trip to the city. Massa Goodman had been right—the carriage trip was a long and grueling one, through mud that was axle deep in places. And when they arrived, the Charleston that greeted them was a very different place from what it once had been.

The city had deteriorated during the war, and the bustling streets looked nearly deserted now, the stores boarded up and emptied of goods. A devastating fire had raced through the downtown area during the winter of 1861, destroying a large part of it. Massa Goodman said there was very little money or manpower to rebuild it. And with Union warships anchored off the bar, bristling with cannons, much of Charleston’s population had fled the city in fear.

The town house also seemed deserted without the large retinue of slaves that usually traveled from the plantation for the social season. Massa Goodman had ordered much of the family’s furniture and other valuables to be stored in the basement for safekeeping after the fire, and the huge rooms seemed bare. Missy insisted on having a big dinner party for all of her friends who were left, but it wasn’t the grand affair that the Goodmans’ parties used to be. Kitty not only had to help Missy get ready, but she was also needed in the kitchen to help Cook, since the town house was so understaffed. As she also helped serve the dinner that evening, Kitty heard Missy’s friends exclaiming over her clothes.

“How on earth could you afford a new gown, Claire? Roger must be filthy rich.”

“Oh, it isn’t new,” Missy replied proudly. “I had to remake my old ones, just like everyone else, in order to be fashionable.”

“Well, you’ve done a beautiful job! Look at those colors. What an eye you have! You’re ingenious.”

Missy glowed in the warmth of their compliments. “Thank you,” she purred.

Kitty knew that she deserved the praise, not Missy. But it would never cross Missy’s mind to give her slaves any credit, much less thank them. Grady would be furious if Kitty told him the story. In the past, she had never understood why he’d hated Missy Claire so much. But as she listened to her mistress accepting applause for her ideas and hard work, she felt robbed.

Kitty’s back ached from being forced to stand throughout the long meal in her pregnant condition. When Missy had been pregnant, she would complain if she had to walk more than ten feet, much less serve a meal or stand in one place for hours. Kitty tried to think of other things to take her mind off her discomfort and began paying attention to the dinner conversation.

“I heard that the Yankees now have an entire regiment made up of former slaves,” she heard one of the guests say. “They wear Yankee uniforms and carry guns and everything, just like real soldiers.” There were cries of outrage all around the table.

“That can’t be true!”

“How can anyone even think of giving weapons to such an ignorant race?”

“Not only that,” the guest continued, “but every place that regiment goes, they’re stealing our slaves and promising them freedom.”

Kitty wanted to hear more, but Missus Goodman sent her down to the warming kitchen to refill the gravy dish. By the time she returned, the guests were no longer discussing Negro troops.

“Rumors are flying all over town that the Yankees are massing a fleet of ironclad ships over in Port Royal Sound. They’re going to attack Charleston.”

“That’s not news,” Massa Goodman said. “Charleston has been a Yankee target since the very beginning of this war. They’re calling us the ‘Cradle of the Confederacy’ because we were the first state to secede from the Union.”

“And don’t forget, the first shots were fired here at Fort Sumter,” someone added.

“The Yankees know how much the rest of the South looks up to Charleston,” another guest said. “As long as we’re one of the few ports open to blockade runners, we serve as a symbol of the South’s resistance to tyranny.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid that the threat of a Union naval attack is real this time,” Massa Goodman said somberly. “In the past the Yankees have made the mistake of attacking Charleston’s batteries and forts. Now that the Yankees have a fleet of ironclads, General Beauregard is afraid they will make a mad dash past Fort Sumter to fire directly on the city and force it to surrender.”

“But we live right on the waterfront,” Missus Goodman said in alarm. “Perhaps we should go back to Great Oak and—”

Missy Claire struck the table with her fist, making the teacups rattle. “No!” she said stubbornly. “I’m tired of running away. First the Yankees chased me out of Beaufort, then they drove me from Roger’s plantation and practically made me a prisoner at Great Oak. I won’t run any more. I hate those Yankees for ruining my life this way.”

Kitty remembered her mistress’ fear on all of those occasions, and saw her bravado for what it was—an act to impress her Charleston friends. She wished she didn’t have to listen to Missy’s whining anymore. She wished she could sit down and ease her aching back and burning feet. But even when the meal finally ended, Kitty’s work wasn’t finished. As she washed dishes out in the kitchen with the other slaves, she shared what she’d heard at the dinner table.

“They’re saying the Yankees got slave soldiers in uniforms now, fighting for the Union,” she told them.

“I don’t believe it,” Alfred said. “White folks won’t never let us join their army. They think we’re no better than animals.”

Kitty knew that Missy Claire and her mother certainly believed that—and Kitty herself once believed it, too. That’s why Grady used to get so mad at her. Did she still believe that her race was inferior? She remembered standing in this very kitchen a long time ago and hearing Delia say that white people and black people were no different in Jesus’ eyes, except for the color of their skin.

“It’s true about the Negro soldiers,” Massa Goodman’s footman added. “I heard the same thing, through the grapevine. Every place those black soldiers is going, they’re setting folks free. President Lincoln made a big proclamation saying they could do it, too.”

Again Kitty thought of Grady, wondering if he was free. It was what he’d longed for more than anything else—even more than he’d longed to be with her. She wondered what he would do with his freedom once he got it.

“The Yankees might be coming here,” Kitty added. “They’re all worried over in the Big House, saying that the Yankees are getting a big fleet of ships together and coming here to bomb Charleston. Missus Fuller’s wanting to go back home.”

“Do you suppose we’ll be free if the Yankees come here?” Bessie asked.

“Yes,” Kitty replied, remembering what had happened in Beaufort. “If the Yankees come, get on over to their side just as fast as you can. Don’t believe a word the white folks is saying about the Yankees, either. They’re our friends.”

On Easter Sunday, Kitty rose early to help her mistress get ready for church. Missy Claire wanted to look extra special in front of all her friends in her “new” Easter bonnet and dress. But Kitty was curious about the church service itself. Delia had talked about Jesus as if He was her best friend, and she was always encouraging Kitty to pray and to trust in the Lord. If only Missy Claire would let her come inside the church with her, so she could see for herself what it was all about.

The April morning was warm, the sun shining brightly. When they reached the church, Kitty climbed down from the wagon instead of staying on the seat with the driver, and followed her mistress up the stone steps. Missy stood talking with a group of her friends for a while and didn’t notice Kitty at first. But when the church bells began to toll and it was time to go inside, Missy nearly stumbled over her.

“Kitty! What are you doing underfoot?”

“May I please come inside, too, Missy Claire?”

“What for? You never go to church. Why would you want to come inside? You won’t understand a thing.”

Kitty knew that Missy would never believe the truth, so she said the first thing that came into her head. “It’s hot out here, Missy Claire. I want to get out of the sun.”

Missy laughed. “I might have known there would be a stupid reason. Okay, but you’ll have to sit up in the balcony with all the other darkies. And for goodness’ sake, mind your manners. You can’t talk or make noise during the service.”