Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [187]
But adding to the horror of the destruction was the fact that no one was rushing to put out the fire. Caroline didn’t see a single fire wagon in the streets or even hear a clanging alarm bell. The people she saw were either fleeing, looting, or watching in mute horror as the city burned.
Gilbert had just turned north off Main Street when the inferno reached the Confederate arsenal. The explosions that followed were so horrific, Caroline thought the earth would rock off its axis. The mare reared in terror, tipping the buggy and throwing Gilbert to the ground as the reverberations went on and on. Caroline grabbed onto the seat in time and managed to hold on until the buggy righted itself, but her screams were lost in the endless rumble of sound as several hundred railcars full of ammunition continued to detonate. Then, still dazed, she saw that Gilbert was about to be trampled by the panicked horse. Caroline leaped down and grabbed the mare’s bridle, stopping her just in time. It took every ounce of strength she had to hang on as the horse reared and bucked in terror.
“Gilbert!” she screamed above the unceasing roar of exploding shells. “Gilbert!” Please, God . . . let him be all right! She watched as he slowly rolled over, then sat up, looking stunned but unhurt. When he saw her clinging to the frightened horse, he scrambled to his feet to help her.
“Gilbert, thank God. I’m so sorry I got you into this,” she said. But Caroline could barely hear her own voice and knew he couldn’t possibly hear her above the sound of the blasts. They walked for the next few blocks to the St. Johns’ house, holding the horse tightly between them. When they finally arrived, Gilbert led the mare into the carriage house to calm her down and try to get her out of the smoke, while Caroline walked up to the door of the mansion alone.
After pounding for several minutes, it occurred to her that no one inside could possibly hear her above the fusillade from the arsenal, so she simply opened the door herself and went inside. As she had guessed, all of the St. Johns’ servants had fled. She found Sally and her mother alone in the house, huddled beneath the dining room table, nearly insane with terror. They clung to her when they saw her, as if she was the last person alive on the earth.
“It’s all right,” she soothed. “Everything is going to be all right. You’re okay. You’re both safe.” Eventually the sound of her voice calmed them, and they were able to bring their tears under control.
“Where’s your father?” Caroline asked Sally.
“H-his flour mill. He t-took the horse,” she stammered.
Caroline knew that his mill had been on fire for some time. She feared for his safety, but she kept her thoughts to herself. “I’ve come to take you home with me. It’s safer up on Church Hill. The fires aren’t spreading that way.”
“But we can’t go out there,” Mrs. St. John wept. “The Yankees are bombarding us.”
“No, they’re not,” she said gently, rubbing the older woman’s shoulder. “Those explosions are from the Confederates. They’re burning their own arsenals and ammunition dumps. Come with me, please. I’ll take you to where it’s safe.”
“W-what about my father?” Sally asked.
He never should have left you here all alone, she wanted to say. But she didn’t. “We can leave him a note and tell him where you are. If he has a horse, he’ll find us.”
She finally convinced them to leave, each bringing a bundle of valuables with them. Caroline scavenged in the kitchen while they packed, finding a small bag of flour and a little bacon. Then she soaked four towels in water so they could cover their mouths, and led the two frightened women out to the carriage house where Gilbert was waiting. She was eager to leave before they changed their minds.
Caroline felt more accustomed to the roar of the flames and the sound of bursting