“Crystal, is my collar awry? You’re looking as if—”
She smiled. “I’m filling my eyes and mind with you. Oh, Matthew, beg me to stay, and I will without regret.”
“My dear!” He put his arms around her and looked into her face. “You know I wouldn’t ask that. You need to visit your parents. If I hadn’t felt the urgency of getting into the army, I’d have gone with you.” He tried to grin as he added, “It would be easy to persuade me I’m failing you by not going.” She silenced him with a kiss.
“It’s just,” she whispered, “after being separated for so long, I can hardly bear more.”
“Crystal, I’ve been thinking the same.” He pressed his lips to her temple, “I’ll be moving out of here soon. Probably south. So we’d be separated even if you were to stay.”
“Do you think of—what might happen?”
“All the time. But I’m learning to trust God. I’ll come through this if it’s His will. Crystal, you know how I love you, and how I value the time we’ve had together.”
She nodded against his chest. “Matthew, we’ve talked about this, and now if you say it again, we’ll both be crying. Remember, this separation is temporary.”
“You’ll soon be back.” Matthew stroked Crystal’s face as he looked into her eyes. “Crystal, it would be easy to worry about what could happen to you.”
“But you won’t.” She smiled at him. “You’ll trust the Lord to keep track of me. As soon as possible I’ll mail a letter to you. And I plan to return to Pennsylvania by June.” She moved away from him and picked up her hat. “If only I could have gone to New Orleans in February!”
Matthew shook his head. “With the newspapers accounts of General Butler’s difficulties in the city, I’m glad you weren’t there. Life seems nearly back to normal, if the newspapers can be trusted.” He held her coat for her, kissed her again, and said, “We must go now.”
“A strange journey it will be,” she murmured taking his arm. “Traveling by train from Washington to Alexandria and then to Richmond. I’ll be wise to keep my eyes open and my mouth shut—at least long enough to get me on a train heading west. I didn’t dream it would be so difficult to travel.”
****
After Crystal boarded the train, she watched Matthew from the window until she could no longer see him. With a sigh, she settled into her seat and looked around. A woman across the aisle nodded over her knitting, saying, “The situation these days makes you wonder about traveling, doesn’t it? Going far?”
“Yes.” Crystal hesitated and asked, “Where are you going?”
“Richmond. My children and grandchildren are there. I try to take the train down every spring before the weather is unbearably hot. War or no war, I intend to go. And you?”
Crystal took a deep breath. “New Orleans.”
The woman pushed her spectacles higher on her nose and stared at Crystal. “Alone? Seems to me that’s a risky trip.”
“What can possibly be risky? Surely they take good care of their passengers.”
“Well, I suppose. But you’ve heard about the Yankees tearing up track and such.”
“No.”
“Well, they do. Then when they get it loose, they shove logs underneath one side of the rails. When the train hits those rails at a slant, over it goes.”
Crystal watched the shiny steel needles fly in and out of the soft yarn. “Maybe I’ll just go as far south as I can before traveling west,” she said.
“Maybe you’ll just go where they send you. Some of the lines aren’t that dependable.” She glanced over her knitting, took several more stitches, looked at Crystal, and said, “I’m Clary Hamilton Trent. From the Richmond Hamiltons. My family goes back to the earliest settlers. I assume you are Creole.”
Crystal hesitated. “Yes, my mother and father are of French descent. Their great-grandparents came before the Revolutionary War.”
“My, what a diversified society we have!” Mrs. Trent murmured. “Now with the immigrants from Ireland and western Europe, soon we’ll have absolutely no real identity.” She gave Crystal a curious glance.
By the time the train reached the outskirts of Richmond, both Crystal and Mrs. Trent were peering out the window. “Look at the masses and masses of people!” Mrs. Trent gasped. “I’d heard many are fleeing the fighting and moving into Richmond, but I didn’t expect to see this. It’s a wonder the city can hold them all.”
“It does seem crowded. Somehow it makes the war seem even more tragic.”
As soon as Crystal left the coach, she entered the depot and inquired about a New Orleans-bound train. She listened to the ticket agent with dismay. “You mean I’ll need to wait until next week?”
With a tired sigh the man shoved his cap back and said, “Lady, troop movement has top priority.”
With a shrug of resignation, Crystal took a room at the hotel across the street. Days stretched into weeks and then extended even more. It was well into April before civilians were allowed travel reservations.
****
When she finally left Richmond, Crystal traveled for days. At one stop Crystal left the coach, looked around the bleak depot, and turned to survey the train with distaste.
It’s like a wild creature, she thought, looking at its black sides quivering, steaming, and belching. She glanced down at her clothes stained with soot. Her head throbbed.
She saw the conductor and hurried toward him. “Sir, why must I keep changing trains?” He cupped his hand to his ear. Fighting to keep her voice calm, Crystal cried, “I’ve transferred three times since leaving Richmond. I traveled nearly to Atlanta, swung north, and now I’m in Tennessee.”
“Ma’am,” the conductor roared, “these trains are all different. Their wheels don’t fit on each other’s tracks. Now, they call this train narrow gauge. You left Richmond on narrow gauge, switched to a different rail at the junction, and now you’re back to narrow. Come tomorrow about noon, we’ll be on the Nashville line, and after that you’ll transfer to the Jackson-New Orleans line, which is different yet.”
With a nod and a sigh, Crystal picked up her valise. He called after her. “No matter what, ma’am, you’ll have to travel this way to get to New Orleans. That’s the way the train goes.”
She nodded again and trudged toward the coach he pointed out. As she climbed aboard, she noticed that this train was different. Covertly she examined the occupants of the coach. There were few comfortable housewives. There didn’t seem to be any soldiers. Most of the people looked worn to the bone, sunken into themselves like shuttered windows. From the number of bags around them, she guessed them to be part of the multitude she had seen in Richmond—those fleeing the war-ravaged areas.
As she looked around, she modified her first impression. The man coming toward her was obviously a soldier in civilian clothing. She eyed him cautiously. His grin was too friendly, and his right arm was in a sling. The train was still gathering speed, moving with jerks and bumps, when he sat down beside her. His eyes were frank, appraising. “Mind if I sit here?”
Crystal noted the number of vacant seats scattered around the car. She tipped her chin upward. “I’m certain you’ll sit where you wish, but I do believe you’d find more congenial seatmates among the men.”
“I doubt it.” With a smile very near a leer, he sat down. “I’ve just come from Fredericksburg. Was banged up a bit, and I’m going home to recuperate.”
She nodded. Opening her newspaper, she said, “I wish you well.”
“Better off than them Yanks. We bested them again. Don’t know why they don’t just go home and stay there.” She kept her eyes fixed on the newspaper. “Where ya going?”
“To visit my parents.”
“Where?”
She sighed. “New Orleans.”
“Better stay out of there. I understand Butler’s out to ruin all the pretty little ladies.”
“I’ve heard that misconstrued report,” she said coldly. “He’s no longer in New Orleans.” She turned the page.
“New Orleans? I’d a guessed you a nigger instead of a Creole—not that it makes much difference.”
She looked at him coldly. “Excuse me, sir. I think you’d better leave.” She rose and waited for him to move.
“Ma’am, I beg your pardon.” Crystal looked up to see an older gentleman bowing toward her. “I must apologize for my fellow Southerner. He seems to have associated too closely with those he has been fighting. Obviously he’s forgotten his manners.” He turned to address Crystal’s seatmate. “Sir, you shall remove yourself immediately.”
The soldier jutted his chin at the man addressing him. “Since when are we to treat them as equals?”
“You treated the lady as an equal when you sat beside her. I recommend that you continue to do so.” The soldier slowly started down the aisle.
“Thank you, sir.” As Crystal returned to her seat, she noticed the woman traveling with her benefactor. Her eyes were cold, and she turned away without acknowledging Crystal’s presence.
It’s finally begun, she thought miserably. Matthew’s built me up until I really believed I am as worthy as they. I wish Matthew were here! As the thought was born, she felt a gentle nudge in her heart and smiled. I’m sorry, Father; having once begun, I’ll continue to believe You love me too, just as much as You love that beautiful white woman and her courteous husband.
When Crystal purchased the ticket for the Mobile-Ohio railroad line, the ticket agent produced a map and marked the route. “You’ve made a long trip,” he admitted, “but it has been to your advantage. This section in Georgia is in disrepair. Your trip has been long, but it has been safe.
“Now you’ll need to transfer to the New Orleans-Jackson line at Jackson, Mississippi. With this transfer you’ll be making the last change.” He smiled at her obvious relief.
With a nod she took her ticket and hurried to the train. As Crystal entered the coach, she sensed tension in the atmosphere. Nearly all of the men were in uniform. The low conversation, serious faces, and watchful expressions made her uneasy.
Mid-afternoon the train arrived in Macon, Mississippi. It seemed to Crystal that the town was deserted with the exception of small groups of soldiers positioned along the streets near the railroad station. When the train ground to a stop, some of the soldiers left the coach. Another group of soldiers loped toward the train.
Crystal leaned forward. The men met nearly under her window. She watched them gesture toward the telegraph lines. One soldier knelt in the dust and drew diagrams with his finger while the others bent over him. When he stood, he pointed toward the engine, glanced at his watch, and backed away. The steam engine began to quiver; its bell clanged.
The granite-faced men returned to the coach and sat down. Crystal heard the murmur of their voices, and picked up the book in her lap.
Later, when the train slowed nearly to a crawl and began to curve westward, she put away her book and leaned against the window. The Mississippi landscape of pines, dense thickets, and scattered bogs moved past the window. Trails, nearly overgrown with fern and marsh grasses crisscrossed the ground close to the tracks.
Just as she noticed the trails, the train stopped. Horsemen wearing Confederate uniforms broke out of the trees. Crystal’s hands tightened in her lap as she watched three of the men dismount. The soldiers who had boarded the train at Macon beckoned to them.
Conversation came to her in scattered words. “Don’t risk it.” “Supplies, guns.” “Can’t chance losing it.” “His gang is headed south.” “Not Jackson, too risky.”
The horsemen left. One of the soldiers stepped into the aisle. Crystal saw the gold braid on his shoulders. “Ladies and gentlemen—” He spoke with an authority that made Crystal shiver. “I regret the necessity of having to do this, but because of a band of desperadoes, namely Union raiders, we are taking immediate, defensive action. I’m canceling our scheduled stops; we’re heading straight into Vicksburg. The natural fortifications of the city are nearly impregnable.”
“Sir,” Crystal cried desperately, “I must transfer at Jackson. I have to go to New Orleans; my mother is ill.”
“Ma’am,” he advised her, “today you aren’t going that way. These Union raiders are none too careful about whose lives they disrupt. They’ve destroyed warehouses loaded with supplies and carloads of ammunition, and they are passing this way, headed south. We’ll be hard pressed to get this train over the last bridge before they take it out, too. Ma’am, we’ll work at getting you out of Vicksburg and into New Orleans when they’ve left the territory, but right now it isn’t safe.” He gave her a thin smile and sat down.
The train began moving, gathering speed until the coach rocked. Crystal clenched the arms of her seat and watched billows of dark smoke sweep past her window. The depot at Jackson appeared and retreated in a blur of faces and buildings. They thundered past a train waiting at the station. Guessing it to be the train she should have taken, Crystal bit her lip and thought, What irony! I slip across Southern borders and become a victim of the army my husband serves.
It was dark when they reached Vicksburg. Weak with relief, Crystal stepped out of the train into the mist swirling inland from the Mississippi River. Carrying her valise, she trudged wearily down the street to the nearest hotel.
“Read all about it! Grant retreats to Memphis!” A young boy cried, hawking his papers. Crystal shoved coins at the boy and took the newspaper.
Inside the hotel, the man behind the desk smiled at her. “You’ve come for the ball?”
“I didn’t know there was a ball,” she murmured. “My train has been delayed, and I need accommodations until I can leave Vicksburg.” He picked up the pen and hesitated, looking from her face to her traveling costume. “I’m from New Orleans,” Crystal explained carefully, feeling tears burn her eyes. “I must return home to see my parents.”
“I understand,” he murmured, pulling forward the guest register. As she followed the porter, she thought, He understands I am Creole, not nigger.
After dinner in the hotel dining room, Crystal returned to her room to read the newspaper. Halfway down the hallway she met the maid. “Good evening,” Crystal nodded to her.
“Ma’am, will you be wanting assistance? Have you a ball gown to be freshened?” The black woman waited.
“Ball gown? Oh, I do remember the clerk mentioning a party. Tell me about it.”
“Downstairs, starts in another hour. Gonna be a fancy affair, with dancing.” A shadow crossed her face as she added, “Celebrating Grant being pushed back. If you want, I’ll take a frock for you.”
“I don’t plan to attend,” Crystal said. “But it would be nice to have some of the wrinkles removed from my clothing. Yes, come with me.”
After the maid had left, her arms loaded with dresses, Crystal found the Vicksburg Whig and sat down to peruse the newspaper.
“Oh, this is terrible,” she murmured. “Gunboats! Mike Clancy was probably with them; I wonder what has happened to him?”
She read the article aloud. “‘We have cause to rejoice today. After tolerating the Union’s ineffectual jabbing at the glorious city of Vicksburg for the past ten months, tonight we celebrate with a ball in the grand ballroom. General Grant has withdrawn his army. Reports are that he has retreated to Memphis. Apparently the enemy’s gunboats are all more or less damaged. It is not surprising to hear the Yankees are demoralized and dissatisfied. Shall we promise them, upon taking the suitable pledge, employment with the winning side? Certainly they offer us no terrors now.’”
Slowly Crystal folded the newspaper and opened the door to the maid. “They look lovely,” Crystal murmured with a smile. “Perhaps I’ll change my mind and go down to the ballroom for a short time.”
She hesitated, arrested by the woman’s haunted expression. “Are you celebrating, too?” Emotion flickered through the woman’s eyes. “I’m also disappointed,” Crystal said.
The maid gave her a quick glance. “Ma’am, I be glad to help you.” Crystal looked into the dark, anxious eyes as she pressed coins into her hands. “Thank you, ma’am. Call if’n you need me.” She pointed to the bell rope, bobbed her head, and left.
Crystal pursed her lips and stared at the door, addressing the now-absent maid. “It’s nearly as if I’ve denied the bigger part of myself,” she whispered. “I didn’t answer your unspoken questions when you looked at my skin. And just knowing your question makes me feel guilty, guilty. If something doesn’t happen to reverse this war, my sister, we’ll all be in the same boat—slaves. And I deserve it no less than you.”
Crystal dressed and went down to the ballroom. Lifting her chin just a bit higher, she managed a smile as she started toward the far end of the room. The last strains of the waltz faded away. She looked at the young women smiling and laughing with their escorts. Delicate gowns blossomed in spring colors, made even more beautiful against the background of gray uniforms, gold braid, and medals.
Crystal saw a line of chairs just beyond the dancers, filled with dignified older men in black, and silver-haired matrons in velvet and satin.
There didn’t seem to be a reception line. With a sigh of relief, she nodded at several friendly smiles and went toward a chair beside a uniformed man wearing a sling. The orchestra swung into a cotillion as she sat down.
The soldier turned to her, a pleasant smile on his face, “Do you—” Without warning, cannonfire and explosions shook the room. “The Yanks,” the soldier swore. “Ran the blockade after all.”
The shelling continued, building in ferocity. As the concussions struck the hotel, lamps flickered and curtains swayed. In the dimness, Crystal pressed her hand against her mouth while she watched flashes of light through the windows of the hotel. Around her there was an uneasy rush of people. “Get out!” came the urgent cries. “They’ll hit the hotel!”
“The Yankees—they’ve run the blockade! Get out!”
Officers blocked the rush to the door. “Be calm!” they shouted. “There’s not a chance of their guns touching the hotel. The explosions you hear are our guns firing on the Union gunboats. It’ll all be over in a few minutes. Go to your rooms and remain calm.”
Crystal left the ballroom with the others. As she made her way through the dim corridor she made no attempt to hide her delighted smile.
But during the night she began to worry. “Father, all those shells. Please protect the Federal boats. And please, if you want freedom for the slaves—even for those like me—please help us win this war. No matter what happens to me, please don’t let them back down now!”
Two days later Crystal faced the ticket agent at the railway station. “Why is it impossible to take the train to New Orleans?”
“Ma’am, the Feds have the railway system torn up. They’ve ruined the lines coming and going. There’s no travel at all. You can’t travel to New Orleans, and you can’t go back the way you came.” He smiled wanly. “Be patient. Things won’t continue like this. Soon the railway will be put in order. This problem with the blockade runners’ll be solved. Then you’ll see your mama.”
That same night Crystal awakened to gunfire again. As she listened to the explosion of shells, she began to feel her loneliness and isolation return. In the morning, the newspaper beside her breakfast plate informed her that another Union transport had been sunk. Two sunk, she thought, but they didn’t say how many made it through the batteries. And they didn’t mention troops; were the transports empty?
That thought kept her musing over the situation for the remainder of the day. Finally, with a sigh, she murmured, “Crystal, you are in the middle of war; I think you’d better pull yourself up sharp, quit being a baby, and pray without ceasing.”
****
April slipped into May, and Crystal remained in Vicksburg. The uneasy situation persisted as the Union gunboats continued their attempt to break through the river blockade. Life in the bluffs above the river continued much the same. Crystal tried to make friends with those around her as they all endured the restrictions that overtook them one by one.
By the middle of May, Crystal noticed that the newspapers now carried news about the enemy with a somber tone. There was speculation about Grant’s maneuvers and the size of his force. But the biggest question seemed to be his whereabouts. Could he possibly be on the eastern bank of the Mississippi? If so, how had that happened? But always the news ended on an optimistic note. General Johnston would be in Vicksburg soon, and the minor difficulties would be over.
Crystal read more news about the mysterious leader of the Union raiders who were wreaking havoc with the Confederate railways. “No wonder the trains aren’t running. This man has effectively blocked General Pemberton’s supply route. But why must he tear up three railways and burn depots and freight cars?” As she stared down at the newspaper, the answer became obvious.
“I do believe the Union isn’t going to stop until this war is won completely! General Pemberton is in Vicksburg. So am I. I wonder if General Grant expects to tear the whole South apart?” For a moment she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against them. “Father, what do I do now?”
****
Matthew picked up the letter. It was from Sadie. He tore it open and read:
Dear Matthew,
We’ve had a letter from Mike. It sounds like there’s going to be a battle in the Mississippi River area. He says Grant has big plans and this time it looks as if he will make it or lose all. I’m wondering about Crystal. Have you heard from her?
There was more, but Matthew dropped the letter and sat down to count the days on his fingers.
“Surely Crystal is safe in New Orleans by now,” he muttered as he paced the room. But the feeling of dread wouldn’t go away. “She said she would be back in Pennsylvania by June.” He snatched up the letter. Obviously Crystal wasn’t there.
Then he tossed the letter aside. “It isn’t June yet, you ninny,” he muttered. Then a darker thought crossed his mind, a thought that had him pacing the room restlessly. You deserve to lose her. After the way you have treated her, what can you expect? He flung himself on his bunk. “Father, God, I’m sorry. I know you love both of us, and the past has been forgiven. Please, just tell me what to do now.”
****
Matthew faced his commanding officer. “Sir, I know the offensive hasn’t developed against Vicksburg, but I’m convinced it will. I am requesting you to transfer me to a division scheduled to support Grant in the west.”
“It’s not our policy to shift individuals around. Since it’s such an unusual request, would you mind telling me what is behind it?”
“My wife left in March to visit her mother in New Orleans. Since I haven’t heard from her, I realize she could be anywhere. I know little of the difficulties involved with travel. I’m guessing—maybe the Lord is telling me—that she could be in the Vicksburg area now.”
“Thomas, I appreciate your concern for your wife, but we wouldn’t have much of an army if we were to make such exceptions for everyone.”
“Then I’m not the first?”
His commander grinned. “Caught me. You are the first. If you’ll keep your mouth shut about this, I’ll see what I can do. But I dislike the idea of you getting yourself shot up for nothing if she happens to be in New Orleans.”
“Sir, I have a feeling I’ll be shot up anyway. And thank you, sir.”
“Matter of fact, I have sensitive material which needs to be transferred to Grant. It must be hand-carried. At the risk of your life, it must not fall into enemy hands.”
“I know nothing about courier service, but I’m willing to try.”
“Trying isn’t good enough.”
“I’ll deliver it, or I won’t get there myself.”