Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [80]
When we finally reached the St. Johns’ house, Charles’ father invited me to stay and wait for the latest news with them. Their cook had prepared an enormous Sunday dinner, but I was too ill with worry to eat any of it. I begged Mr. St. John to let his driver take me home.
“If you wish,” he agreed, “but I insist on escorting you there myself.”
It took nearly a quarter of an hour to drive less than three blocks to Broad Street. It seemed that every man and boy in Richmond had crowded into the streets, trying to join up with the city’s militia. Most of the men still wore their Sunday finery, and nearly everyone bore arms. I saw all manner of guns, from dueling pistols to Revolutionary War relics. The volunteers appeared pitifully inadequate and disorganized, certainly no match for a U.S. warship.
Mr. St. John pointed to the capitol roof as we passed the square. “See there? Those are lookouts watching for the Pawnee. I’ve heard you can see as far as the first bend in the river from up there. We’ll have a few minutes’ warning, at least.”
As we made our way east toward Church Hill, we were forced to stop again as a troop of soldiers crossed the street, marching in somewhat of a military fashion, their bayonets fixed. I searched the rows of faces for Charles’ but didn’t see him.
“Where are you headed?” Mr. St. John called from the open carriage window.
“Rocketts Wharf,” someone replied, “in case they send a landing force.” As if facing an armed warship wasn’t bad enough, now I had to face the possibility of marauding enemy soldiers overpowering our haphazard forces and invading the city.
The traffic thinned once we started up Church Hill, and a few minutes later we passed St. John’s Church. All my life I had heard the story of how Patrick Henry had spoken his famous words, “Give me liberty or give me death!” in that church just a few blocks from my home, but I had never before thought about what they meant. Charles had quoted them to me only a few nights earlier, saying he would willingly fight to keep his freedom. But freedom to do what? I still didn’t understand what Charles would be willing to die for.
When I reached home, Daddy thanked Mr. St. John for escorting me and invited him inside. I left the two of them in the library, discussing the impending invasion, and fled upstairs to the safety of Tessie’s arms. She tried her best to calm me, but every time I looked at the engagement ring on my finger and thought of Charles facing a warship, I was forced to battle waves of nervous hysteria. I knew the afternoon would stretch ahead of me endlessly as I waited, facing the terror of the unknown.
“How about we do something?” Tessie finally said. “Take your mind off your troubles instead of sitting here fretting.”
“I . . . I wouldn’t be able to do anything. My hands are shaking too badly to do any needlework or—”
“Not that kind of something. How about I practice my reading? I ain’t never gonna get any better if I don’t practice.”
Her offer surprised me. It was the first time she had ever asked for a lesson. Even though she was making wonderful progress with her reading and writing skills, her reluctance and fear had remained very strong, her written work invariably thrown into the flames at the end of each session. But this time Tessie had taken the initiative, and before I could respond to her offer, she had already fetched her latest textbook, the Bible, and was opening it to where we had left off in the Book of Psalms.
“ ‘Unto thee lift I up mine eyes,’ ” Tessie read, “ ‘O thou that dwellest in the heavens. Behold, as the eyes of servants look unto the hand of their masters, and as the eyes of a maiden unto the hand of her mistress; so our eyes wait upon the Lord our God, until that he have mercy upon us. Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us . . .’ ”
At dusk, Tessie went down to the kitchen to fetch me a tray of food. A few minutes later, someone knocked on my door.
“Missy Caroline?”
“Come in, Ruby.”
“Tessie tell me you upset on account of Massa Charles going off to fight