Monday, April 15, mid-morning
The crowd went silent at the sound of the gun.
“Godfrey mighty,” Charlie whispered. His face was pale.
You wouldn’t believe how quiet it was. No one seemed to know what had happened—or what might happen next. I felt hot, and then cold, and although I’m not usually a praying person, I found myself saying a silent prayer that war wouldn’t come to Wiscasset.
Then Sheriff Chadbourne strode to the top of the Custom House steps, holding an old musket in his hand. It was smoking.
“Thom, either you raise that flag and do your duty as customs collector, or I’m bound to arrest you on grounds of civil disobedience.”
Mr. Cunningham raised his chin high. “I won’t collect customs for a country that makes war with itself over a states’ rights issue.”
Sheriff Chadbourne sighed. “Then you’ll have to come with me.” He looked down into the crowd. “Henry, come take our nation’s flag from Thom here.” Then he spoke to everyone. “Folks, show’s over. The Custom House is closed for today. Anyone’s got customs issues, see me at the courthouse.” He took Mr. Cunningham by the arm and marched him through the crowd as some jeered.
“I’ll bet he’s taking him to the old jail on Federal Street,” Charlie said.
“Likely,” I nodded. The old granite building had been there since the War of 1812. It wasn’t a place anyone wanted to spend a single night, let alone a longer stay. Still, it was the Lincoln County Jail, and jail wasn’t supposed to be a place you looked forward to visiting.
Gradually the crowd broke up, as there didn’t seem to be any more excitement at hand. Charlie and I started back toward the Herald’s office.
“Guess I’ve got the first story for my next issue,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d have a new story so fast.”
“Have you thought of any questions for Nell?” Charlie asked. “Our interview’s at one o’clock.”
“I have a few,” I told him. “Not many.”
I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Nell again, after what had happened Saturday night. It hadn’t been the right place to ask my question, and with what the Belfast mariner had told us, I was more confused than ever about Nell and her voices.
“Let’s get a list of questions together,” said Charlie. “We should stop in at the telegraph office first, though.”
Others had had the same idea. A crowd had gathered by the time we got there. Mr. Johnston was standing outside his store, delivering the news.
“President Lincoln has called upon the various states of the Union to contribute a total of seventy-five thousand volunteer members from the various state militias to suppress the Southern insurrection, such volunteer state militia to be dispersed within ninety days.”
“Only ninety days, Joe! He thinks it’s all going to be over in ninety days,” said Charlie. “That’s barely time for troops to rally and be trained.”
“Who among us is going to be patriotic and save the Union?” someone in the crowd yelled.
No one answered.
“What’s going to happen next?” I said quietly, more to myself than to Charlie. I knew one thing for sure: I had another bulletin to get out. If I didn’t sleep, and if Charlie and Owen kept helping me, maybe I’d still be able to make Mr. Shuttersworth’s deadline.
“I’m not sure,” said Charlie. “I suspect there’ll be a lot of talking and drinking in statehouses. Does Maine even have a militia? I’ll bet Governor Washburn is figuring that out right now.” He grinned and slapped me on the shoulder. “C’mon. We have to talk with your Miss Gramercy before the world changes again. She says she can see the future; maybe she knows what will happen next.”