Storm Clouds Rolling In & On To Richmond (Books 1 & 2 in the Bregdan Chronicles) by Ginny Dye - HTML preview

Chapter Thirty-Two

Moses gazed around him in awe as he marched toward the Alexandrian docks. His mind traveled back to the little rowboats he and Rose had traveled in during their escape. He had been told that hundreds of vessels of every imaginable kind were arriving at the wharves of the historic little brick town that had marked the head of deep-water navigation on the Potomac since colonial days. Nothing they had said prepared him for the sight that met him when they rounded the last curve.

“A sight to behold, isn’t it?”

Moses nodded as he turned to his new friend, James.

“It sure is. What are all those things? Other than boats,”

he added quickly. “That much I can figure out myself.”

He had already found himself the brunt of many jokes and hateful jibes the last few weeks. He was learning to be very careful what he said. He had discovered the Northern white was much like the Southern white.

James smiled easily. “That one there is a Philadelphia ferryboat.” He pointed to one with a huge wheel. “That one is a Long Island Sound side-wheeler. Over there is a Hudson River excursion boat.” His voice grew more excited. “The real big one is a transatlantic passage.” He continued on to point out schooners, barges and canal boats. “I hear there are going to be almost three hundred of them making trips back and forth until the whole army has been moved.”

Moses stared around him, fascinated. “I reckon it takes a lot to move over a hundred thousand men.”

James nodded. “Not to mention all the animals, supplies and food.”

Moses turned to look at him. “How come you know so much about boats?”

James shrugged, his eyes lighting with excitement.

“I’ve loved boats since I was just a little boy fishing off the Maine coast. My father captained his own boat for a while. He taught me most of what I know. After this crazy

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war is over, I hope to own my own fishing fleet. I had just saved enough money to buy my own boat when the war started.”

Moses nodded. He knew about thwarted dreams.

“Hey! Look at the big nigger,” someone yelled off to his right. “Didn’t anybody tell him the Union Army doesn’t need dumb niggers?” Raucous laughter followed his statement.

Moses continued to stare straight ahead. It would do no good to respond. He had already been in a few fights.

His brute strength had easily triumphed each time, but he wasn’t here to fight. He had finally decided the best course was to ignore whatever was said to him. Violence was no way to fight prejudice. He would let his actions speak for themselves.

“I’m sorry, Moses,” James said sympathetically.

Moses shrugged. “I can’t let ignorance bother me. I’ll spend my whole life being bothered if I do. I aim to prove myself.” He smiled at James. “At least not everyone around here is ignorant.”

He had met James a few days after he joined McClellan’s army. James was as big as he was—just as big, and just as powerful. The two had talked for hours and become close friends. Most of the soldiers left Moses alone now. They had no desire to take on the two of them.

Moses had made a few other friends, but none he liked as well as James.

In front of them, men marched up ship gangplanks in steady procession. Moses watched, once again in awe, as steam derricks hoisted wagons, guns and supplies aboard. Even artillery horses were hoisted aboard in slings. Nothing during his years on the plantation had prepared him for such innovations. He was quickly realizing the world was much more complex and fascinating than he had ever imagined.

Everywhere there was laughter and cheering.

McClellan’s army was happy to be free of their winter quarters, and warm weather had lifted their spirits even more. Flags flew from many of the ships, making the event seem more like a pleasure excursion than the

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transporting of an army looking for the enemy. Bands played and ships’ whistles shrieked.

Moses held his head high as he marched with the rest of the men up the plank. He was fulfilling his dream of having a role, no matter how small, in the efforts of the Union Army. He would soon be back in the South that had stolen his freedom and robbed him of his family. His mind traveled back to one of the first conversations he had with a sympathetic officer.

“You need to be careful, Moses. The efforts to return runaway slaves have increased even more since you left.

The slave hunters and militia will stop at nothing. If they find out you’re working with the Union, they will kill you,”

he said bluntly. “There have already been hangings.”

Moses had nodded solemnly. “I’ll be careful.”

He had been thinking about the officer’s words ever since. He wasn’t afraid, but neither would he be careless.

He thought about Rose. Then he thought about his mama and sisters. There was too much at stake.

With a shriek of the whistle, the boat Moses was on drew away from the dock and headed toward the open sea. Moses hung against the railing, drinking in all he could. Up ahead, he saw some smaller boats moving swiftly down the river.

James saw the direction he was looking. “Navy gunboats,” he said. “They’re going to prowl the Virginia shoreline looking for Rebel raiders that might try to attack the boats.”

Moses grinned. “Do they really think the Confederates have anything that could come after so many ships?” The idea seemed preposterous to him as he watched the impressive display of strength.

James nodded grimly. “They know they do.” When Moses shot a questioning look at him, he continued. “Did you not hear about the Merrimack?”

Moses shook his head.

“It’s ironic, really. The Merrimack was one of the most powerful warships the Union ever built. When Virginia seceded, the navy tried to get the boat out, but Commandant McCauley was convinced there was no way to fight off the Confederates. So the old guy had the naval yard torched and sunk all the ships.”

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“The Merrimack wasn’t sunk?”

“Oh, yes,” James laughed. “They sunk it all right. Then the Rebels came in right behind them and raised it again.

She’s not really the Merrimack anymore. They renamed her the Virginian. Anyway,” he continued, “I’ve been told they completely remodeled the ship into something that doesn’t look like any ship that has ever floated. They wrapped that boat all up in iron. They say nothing can do her harm.”

“You reckon that’s true?” Moses tried to picture what James was describing.

James shrugged. “Evidently. A few weeks ago, the Merrimack attacked the Federal blockading squadron in Hampton Roads. The monster destroyed two of our ships and drove two more ashore. I heard someone say the cannon shot fired at her glanced off like pebble stones.”

Moses whistled and looked out to sea. What awaited them out there?

It wasn’t long before he could not have cared less.

Once they struck the ocean, the swells of six to seven feet made life miserable for a great number of them. His own stomach had started turning flips.

James merely grinned. “I didn’t know black men could turn green,” he teased. “There isn’t anything to do but ride it out. You’ll feel like dying, but it will get better.”

Moses hung onto his words all the time he was leaning over the water, his insides heaving violently. He had never been so sick in his life. The only thing giving him any comfort was that scores of other men hung over the railings with him as the putrid stench of vomit filled the air.

It was two full days before he cared enough to notice what was going on around him. He had half a day to enjoy his new seaworthiness before they caught their first glimpse of Fort Monroe. There were still men too sick to move from their bunks, but most crowded eagerly around the railings to catch sight of their destination.

Fort Monroe was the largest coastal fortress in America. The enormous hexagonal masonry work was a whole third of a mile across.

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As Moses craned to see the fort, James appeared at his side. “That fort was finished about fifteen years ago.

It’s sitting right on the tip of the Virginia Peninsula. I’ve heard the guns in that place are really something.”

“Why do we still have it if it’s in Virginia?” Moses asked. He was realizing more and more that he had a lot to learn.

James smiled. “The fort was too strongly defended for the Rebels to even try to take it.”

Moses nodded and continued to stare. The harbor looked much like the one they had left two days earlier.

Boats bobbed everywhere, mixing with the navy warships stationed there. “What’s that thing?”

James smiled again. “You mean that little boat that looks like a Yankee cheese box on a raft? That’s the Monitor. Some say she looks like a tin can on a shingle.

She was built when the Union Navy discovered what the Rebels had done with the Merrimack.”

“Can the Monitor take on the Merrimack?”

James nodded. “They did just that a couple of weeks ago. The Monitor was sent down to avenge Union honor. I hear they battled to a draw. Neither did much damage to the other. Just a bunch of shot and cannon bouncing off metal.” He shrugged. “One thing is for sure. The day of wooden warships is over for good. They don’t have a wooden nickel’s chance of standing against the ironclads.”

Moses nodded and continued to stare at the scene unfolding before him. Suddenly, an order was shouted to the men. They would not disembark tonight. There was simply no place for them to dock. There was grumbling and complaining, but soon the men decided to make the best of it. Cheers rang out all around when men from one of the New York regiments hauled out a barrel of whiskey they had smuggled aboard at Alexandria.

Moses watched the men crowd around the whiskey barrel and went in search of a quiet place. He knew what alcohol could do to men. Weaving through bodies, he made his way to the front of the ship and found a secluded place to watch the activity on shore.

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That’s where they found him. He was lost in thought, thinking about Rose, when he heard them shout his name.

“Moses! Oh, Moses!” One man stumbled against some of the rigging and let out a curse. “Come on out, nigger boy. We want to talk to you.”

Moses edged closer to the bow and looked around for a weapon. A stout stick was all he could find. He gripped it tightly and turned to face the three men approaching him. All of them were reeling drunk. He didn’t think he would have trouble handling them, but he was sick to death of the hatred he saw surrounding him.

“Well, here’s the nigger boy!” The largest and drunkest soldier turned to his two companions. “You know boys, this nigger must be pretty special to get to be a part of us. What do you think makes him so special?”

One of the men laughed coarsely. “Maybe he’s gonna lead us to all the nigger girls along the way who will make us happy. I hear tell those women make fine lovers.”

Moses’ face flushed with anger and he gripped his stick tighter. His muscles coiled as the men drew closer.

Suddenly, James appeared with two other men beside him. James reached forward and grabbed the drunk man. Without speaking, he turned and dragged the thrashing figure across the deck of the boat. The other two men grabbed the remaining troublemakers. They quickly brought the drunks to a door leading below, opened it, and tossed them down the stairs unceremoniously. Then they slammed the door shut.

James joined Moses in the bow. “Sorry, Moses. We knew they were looking for trouble tonight. I guess they’re a little anxious about what is coming.”

Moses heaved a sigh of relief. He was tired of fighting.

He turned his head to look out over the ocean again.

Would he always have to battle misunderstanding and prejudice? Would the darkness of men’s hearts and the stark injustice of the slavery system that had brought his people to these shores haunt him for the rest of his life?

His own heart was heavy within him as he stared out at the gentle swells catching the last rays of the setting sun.

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Something Sarah had once told him seemed to float to him on the waves. “You be a leader, Moses. Bein’ a leader can be a right lonely thin’ at times. You gets to fight for all them people ‘round you that be too scared or too lazy to fight for themselves. Bein’ a leader means you got to stand up to folks when other folks be lyin’ down. Bein’ a leader means you got to blaze a trail where there ain’t one. Ain’t nothin’ lonelier than goin’ somewhere on yo’ own.” She had reached forward and taken his hand. “But you remember this, boy. Ain’t nothin’ better than bein’ a leader.

Ain’t nothin’ better than knowin’ somethin’ you done has made life better for folks. It’s what makes you hold your head high. It’s what makes your heart keep beatin’. It’s what makes life worth livin’. You can’t be a leader and pretend you’re not.”

Moses felt stronger as Sarah’s words filled his heart.

Being a leader was indeed lonely. But Sarah had been right. There was no other way to live. There was no other way he wanted to live.

Early the next morning, Moses moved onto land with the troops. He was glad to leave the bobbing ship and put his feet on solid ground. As soon as they landed, the order was given to march. Moses looked around as they moved quickly through the hastily laid out camps on the outskirts of the fort. Their marching brought them to the outskirts of Hampton. Moses stared at the forest of charred chimneys lining the skyline. “What happened here? Was there a battle?”

“Hardly!” James snorted. “Magruder, the Confederate general running the show around here, heard the North was planning on turning Hampton into a settlement for runaway slaves.”

“He burned his own city?” Moses asked in disbelief.

James shrugged. “I think the guy is nuts. He decided he could not bear to see the city suffer such desecration, so he burned it to the ground.”

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Moses stared at the devastation in front of him. Once more, he was reminded of the passions running unrestrained in the country. It also drove home to him how careful he must be. Passions that could wreak such destruction would not hesitate to kill him if his Union loyalties were discovered.

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