Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [107]
The scene at the depot was one of complete chaos, with people dashing to and fro, shouting and clamoring for tickets that couldn’t be purchased at any price. As I watched from the buggy seat, a feeling of great calm suddenly filled me. Why was I running away? I had been praying for God’s help and strength every day since the war began—why would He desert me now? Couldn’t He protect me here, as He would protect Eli and the others, just as easily as someplace else?
When Gilbert started to climb down from the buggy, I stopped him. “Leave my trunk, for now,” I told him. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
The train was already at the station, taking on coal, working up steam. Passengers hovered close, waiting for the signal to board, even though the train wasn’t scheduled to leave for another ten minutes. I found Sally and her parents on the platform, watching anxiously for me.
“Caroline, finally,” Sally said, exhaling. “We were so afraid your carriage would get stuck in that awful traffic and you’d miss the train.”
“Where’s your trunk?” Mr. St. John asked. “Did your boy check your baggage already?”
“Please don’t be angry with me,” I said, “but I’m not going with you.”
“Now, see here,” Mr. St. John said, “I feel responsible for you, seeing as your father is away. I really must insist that you go. This may be your only chance to reach safety.”
I shook my head. “I’m not afraid to stay here. This is my home. I would be much more afraid to be a refugee without a home, far away from my loved ones.”
All around us, the volume of agitated voices suddenly swelled to a roar as the bell on the locomotive began to ring. The conductor pushed through the crowd, calling ticketed passengers to board. As people began mobbing the train cars, Sally and her mother looked desperately from the train, to me, to the train again.
“Come with us, Caroline. Please,” Sally begged.
“I can’t,” I told her, shaking my head. “Good-bye. . . .” I turned and hurried away, knowing how eager the women were to leave Richmond, knowing that Mr. St. John was too lame to run after me.
Gilbert was pacing nervously beside the buggy when I returned. “You wanting this trunk now, Missy? Seems like that train’s about to leave.”
“It is, but I won’t be on it. I’m staying here.”
“Oh, Missy Caroline . . . I don’t think—”
“Take me home, Gilbert.” I mustered my bravest smile and added, “That’s an order.”
Even though I knew I had made the right decision, the suspense of waiting for the Union gunboats to arrive, waiting for the shelling to begin, was terrible. I kept my own trunk packed and made all the servants pack their things, too, so that if the city did burn to the ground we would all have a few essentials. Then we gathered in the parlor to wait.
“You thinking we might go out to Hilltop if things get bad?” Tessie asked.
“No, Hilltop won’t be any safer than Richmond—in fact, it might be worse. Enemy troops are heading right up the Peninsula in that direction. And that’s where all our men are dug in, waiting for them.”
I played the piano for everyone while we waited. Tessie and I took turns reading the Bible aloud. We knitted. Luella and Ruby did some mending. Eli prayed.
Not long after we had all eaten a little lunch, we heard the unmistakable sound of cannon booming in the distance. Unlike the night of the Pawnee scare, the cannonfire didn’t stop this time. Instead, the volley of explosions built and intensified, rattling the windowpanes and echoing off Richmond’s many hills. Drewry’s Bluff, the last fortress guarding the city, was a scant seven miles south of where we sat on