Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [94]
“I certainly do envy all these young men,” Mr. St. John said, settling comfortably into Daddy’s chair. “If only I was younger and not crippled with this blasted rheumatism, I would love to join them. As it is, there’s nothing much I can do besides serve in the Home Guard.”
“That’s an important job, too,” I said, not insincerely. “The Union forces would like nothing better than to capture Richmond.”
“You’re right. And that brings me to the reason why I’ve come.” He took a long, fortifying drag on his cigar, then exhaled, his words filling the room along with the smoke. “General Lee has spent the past few days inspecting the fortifications around Richmond. Sad to say, he has declared them woefully inadequate. He wants to construct a better system of defenses, but as you can guess, there is a serious shortage of manpower at the moment. One solution has been to use free Negroes.”
“As volunteers?”
He studied me over the rim of his glass as he took a long drink. “No. As conscripts. But we are providing them with food and the same monthly wage our army privates receive. I don’t think it’s unfair to ask Negroes to defend their own homes, do you?”
“I suppose not.”
“That leads me to the first difficult request I’m forced to make. You see, there aren’t nearly enough free Negroes. We need more laborers. I understand that you have several male slaves—”
“Two. We only have two.”
“Yes . . . well, if you could send even one of them, the Confederacy would be grateful.” He puffed on his cigar for a moment before continuing. “My second request is for horses, and I’m afraid this isn’t a voluntary matter. The army needs every one you can spare. You will be reimbursed, of course . . . but I’m afraid you must relinquish them.”
How would I ever tell Eli? Those horses were as dear to him as pets. “How soon do you need them?” I asked.
“If you could have everything ready by tomorrow morning . . .” He finished his drink, rather than his sentence, and set the glass on Daddy’s desk. “One final request. Your boy Eli has a reputation as one of the best hostlers in Virginia. Word is he knows more about what’s wrong with a horse and what to do about it than anyone around. The Confederacy could use him. Please think about donating him to the cause.”
“I . . . I will consider it.”
I don’t recall saying much else as Mr. St. John hoisted himself from the chair and bid me good-night, promising to return in the morning for my answer. If Daddy were home, he probably would have done his patriotic duty immediately, emptying the stables and sending both Eli and Gilbert away with Mr. St. John that very night. But Daddy wasn’t home. I was the one who had to make the decision, and I couldn’t bring myself to order either man to go off with the Rebels to defend his own enslavement. I wrestled with the decision for a while; then, not knowing what else to do, I went out to the carriage house to find Eli and Gilbert. I told them about Mr. St. John’s requests.
“I don’t know anything about horses,” I admitted. “I have no idea how many we need to keep or which ones we should give to the army. But what’s even worse is that I don’t want to order either one of you to go away with these men unless you want to go. What . . . what do you think? What should I do?”
Eli’s calm expression never changed, but Gilbert was visibly upset. He frowned at Eli, making angry sounds, and shifted from foot to foot in agitation.
“What’s wrong, Gilbert?” I asked.
“Ain’t the way it works,” he replied. “Ain’t our decision. Missy supposed to tell us what to do, then we do it. We your slaves.”
“Well, suppose you weren’t slaves. What would you recommend that I do?”
“I still your slave,” he said stubbornly. “Missy supposed to give me orders.”
But that was precisely what I was trying to avoid—giving orders. It frustrated me that I was forced to become the very thing I hated—a slave driver. Then I had an idea, born of desperation. If I was stuck with the system of slavery, then I would have to play by its rules.
“All right, Gilbert.