Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [100]
“No, Missy Caroline,” he said gently. “You coming with me. That poor boy gonna die, and Massa Jesus wants you and me to be with him.”
Eventually, the deluge of wounded soldiers receded, the makeshift beds in our drawing room emptied. The nursing shortage in Richmond’s hospitals eased when women arrived from all over the South to nurse their wounded husbands, sweethearts, and sons. Tessie and I read in the news that the Confederate Congress had given credit to “The Most High God, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, for the triumph at Manassas.” Congress was convinced that the Union would never continue the war after this stunning defeat.
But the war did continue, slowly spreading to other parts of the country. We read of another Confederate victory at Wilson’s Creek in Missouri and then a victory at Ball’s Bluff, here in Virginia. More captured Yankee prisoners arrived in Richmond, adding to the hundreds that had been captured at Manassas. No one knew what to do with them all. Some of the vacant tobacco warehouses on the waterfront near Daddy’s warehouses had been converted into prisons, but when they quickly overflowed, the prisoners were confined on Belle Isle in the middle of the James River. From Mother’s grave site in Hollywood Cemetery, I could see row upon row of tents and makeshift shacks dotting the six-acre island and thousands of wretched, blue-uniformed men milling around.
In August, Union forces captured Fort Hatteras in North Carolina. This meant that our blockade-runners could no longer use this important route, cutting off the flow of much-needed supplies. I didn’t worry as much about the rising prices or the empty store shelves as I did about Daddy. His work had become even more dangerous now. And we hadn’t heard from him since he’d left home in July.
“Your father has an important job to do overseas,” Mr. St. John assured me as we walked home from St. Paul’s one beautiful fall day. We had been walking a lot more since the war began, but Richmond enjoyed a long spell of beautiful Indian summer weather that year, making our walks pleasant. “It’s more than just English rifles he’s after,” Mr. St. John continued. “England and France depend on the South for their supplies of cotton and tobacco. If we can convince those nations to back our cause and join the war on our behalf, the North will have to concede defeat.”
“You think my father is part of this effort?”
“President Davis is preparing to send diplomats to Europe to negotiate an alliance. But he needs men like your father to keep the trade ships running in the meantime. He’s doing a very important job.”
In November, the Union Navy intercepted the British mail steamer Trent on the high seas and captured the two Confederate diplomats, James Mason and John Slidell, en route to Great Britain for President Davis. The British were so outraged by this assault on one of their ships that it seemed as though the Trent affair might finally persuade Great Britain to support the South. But President Lincoln recognized the danger of such an alliance and ordered the two diplomats to be released with an apology to England. The Rebels’ hopes were disappointed once more. The war continued. Gilbert returned home again, his digging finished for the winter, and we welcomed him as a hero. But I still heard no word from Daddy.
When wintry weather finally arrived, bringing bone-chilling rain and frigid blankets of snow, the women in Mrs. St. John’s sewing society turned to knitting. I had never knitted in my life, but I learned how to that winter; the need for warm hats, gloves, scarves, and socks for our soldiers was critical. As we crowded around the fireplace in the St. Johns’ smaller parlor, I pictured Charles and Jonathan huddling inside their leaking tents, shivering beneath thin blankets. Hospitals began filling with soldiers again— not casualties of battle but victims of diseases such as pneumonia, typhoid, and dysentery, which spread through the army camps like biblical plagues.
Two years ago, Jonathan and I