Tuesday, April 16, afternoon
“Joe—there you are! I’ve got great news!”
Charlie was already back at the Herald office when I got there.
“First, I sold all of my share of Heralds.” Charlie looked pointedly at those I was still carrying. I didn’t tell him the copies were both mine and Owen’s.
I put the extra papers on a shelf near the door and added my coins to those Charlie had already put on the desk. I couldn’t get the picture of Owen’s face, streaming with blood, out of my mind. Or, more important, the cruel words that had come before the blood.
I’d do the accounting later, after Owen had brought in the money he’d collected.
“I may have another printing job for us,” Charlie continued. “Do you know Mr. Pendleton’s ambrotype studio, near Bailey’s Tavern?”
I nodded; of course I knew Mr. Pendleton’s studio. When it opened six months ago, Mr. Pendleton had bought a few ads in the Herald. But not many in Wiscasset could afford having themselves immortalized using the new picture-taking machine; they’d sooner have their likenesses painted. An artist could paint them in color, in any size, and fix them up some—make them look the way they’d like to look. Mr. Pendleton’s machine had no such sympathy.
“Mr. Pendleton’s set up a flag as background in his studio, and says those going to war will want their pictures taken for their parents or wives or sweethearts. He wants to give each of his customers a card, two by four inches—something they can carry with them to list their name, company, state, hometown, and next of kin. He’d like us to print those up for him.”
“Cards to keep themselves? Why?” I asked, without thinking.
“In case . . .” Charlie looked at me as though I were slow. “In case they get sick or wounded, or worse, and can’t tell anyone who they are. So someone can write to their folks and tell them what happened.” He stuck his hands into his trouser pockets, strode over to the window, and looked out onto the Green. Then he turned back to me. “Of course, I told him we’d print the cards.”
“They would be simple to do,” I agreed. “And we could get them done right away. This morning, in fact.” I went to the desk where I kept my prices for card stock. “They would have to be on our heaviest paper. The stock we use for business or calling cards.”
“He’ll pay a decent price, I think,” said Charlie. “There’s no one else in Wiscasset who can do the job, and he wants the cards as soon as possible.”
“I’ll figger out how much we’d charge him. Then you can go back and tell him. I’d want to print them right away, since we may be getting in another job this afternoon.”
“What’s that?” Charlie asked.
“The county clerk’s office is getting a copy of an act just passed in Augusta detailing the rules for recruiting and the laws governing the troops. It’s twenty pages—longer than anything we’ve ever done. Even longer than Reverend Merrill’s sermons. And they need it as soon as possible, to get a copy to every town in Lincoln County.”
“Is there time to do that much?” Charlie asked. “What if there’s more news? Even if we finish the cards for Mr. Pendleton this morning, there are only two of us. Maybe you may want to live your life in this office, but I don’t.”
Without Charlie I’d never be able to do the job for the county clerk. Charlie couldn’t leave now.
“It’s just a few days more, Charlie—I promise. And Owen will help. He’s bright, and he’s learning fast.” I didn’t mention what I’d seen that morning, but thought it might be good to keep Owen busy and away from the other restless boys until things calmed down.
“I don’t know,” Charlie said, shaking his head.
“Someone’s going to bring a copy of the Act over from the county clerk’s office this afternoon. We’ll look at it then and decide,” I said. “Why don’t we take a break and have something to eat before we make any more decisions?”
We were halfway to the Mansion House kitchen, where Charlie planned to entice Mrs. Giles into finding us something tasty for dinner, when Reverend Merrill stopped us.
“I was coming to look for you boys. I’m in need of your assistance.”
“Yes, Reverend,” I answered, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. My stomach was beginning to growl. I remembered I hadn’t eaten breakfast.
“I was just up at the courthouse. The officers of the court have called a town meeting at four o’clock this afternoon at Wawenock Hall to share news from Augusta regarding President Lincoln’s request for troops. There’s no time for you to print a broadside, but I’ve already handwritten a notice and posted it in Mr. Johnston’s store. I’ll go to the taverns and other establishments and post notices there. Would you boys go to the waterfront stores and to homes where people may have gathered, and spread the word? It’s critical that as many of our citizens as possible, of all ages, attend this afternoon’s meeting.”
Charlie and I looked at each other.
“Of course,” said the reverend, “I assume you’ll be covering the meeting for the Herald, and the county clerk said you’d be printing up the bill we’ll be discussing, too.”
“We will,” I said. I looked over at Charlie. “It’s our patriotic duty, Reverend.”
“And you’ll be paid well, I’m sure,” Reverend Merrill said. “Just spread the word as best you can.” He pulled his cloak around him and hurried down the hill toward Water Street.
“He acted as though we were messenger boys,” said Charlie, looking after him. “Let’s at least stop and get some bread first.”
“Someone has to let people know. He needs folks who are reliable, and we are,” I said, proudly. “But I sure wouldn’t mind having something to chew on as we talk to folks.”
“I wonder why the meeting has to be held so quickly,” said Charlie as we headed inside the Mansion House kitchen. “Why couldn’t they have waited until tomorrow? Farmers and others who live outside town won’t hear the news soon enough to get to the church by four o’clock.”
“That’s why we’ll be taking very good notes this afternoon,” I answered, filling my pockets with anadama bread. “And not getting much sleep tonight. It looks like we’ll be setting another issue of the paper, along with the text of that Maine State Act.”
More money toward what I owed Mr. Shuttersworth.