Candle in the Darkness (36 page)

“They’re being held on an island in the middle of the James River,” I said. “It’s called Belle Isle. You can probably see it from the windows that overlook the canal.” I didn’t tell him that he and the other officers were fortunate to be housed inside a building, that the only shelter the enlisted men had against the winter’s cold and the summer’s heat was a tent.

“I’ve watched men die in this place,” Robert said. “I’ve seen others lose their minds. It can easily happen in this hellhole where men who are ill and delirious scream all night until we wish them dead. We have no doctors, no medicine. All of us suffer from dysentery. At times I’ve been so sick with the fever and shakes that I believed I might die. I’ve often wished that I would.”

Robert had saved the corn bread for last, as if savoring it for dessert. He held it close to his chin, careful not to drop any crumbs, but when one accidentally fell to the floor he quickly snatched it up and ate it. I remembered watching the little Negro children at Hilltop do the same thing, eating off the dirt floor.

“You can’t imagine how slowly time passes here, Caroline. Every day is the same. We fight to spend a few moments at the window, just to watch the boats on the canal out front, and the traffic crossing the bridges, and the trees and fields and rolling green hills across the river. We’re not allowed to look out of the windows on the other side. The sentries shoot at us if we do.”

“It’s just as well,” I told him. “The view is only of rooftops, chimneys, warehouses, vacant lots—nothing worth getting shot at to see.”

“For entertainment, we sometimes capture lice off our heads and hold races with them. The winner gets the lump of salt pork in the soup if there happens to be one. This place is filthy beyond imagining. The Negroes sweep the floor and slosh water across it twice a week, but that’s all the cleaning that’s done. We have water but no soap. At night, I sleep jammed into a room with one hundred other men, back to back on the bare floor, like herring in a box. Our daily rations are corncob bread and bean soup flavored with rancid salt pork and garnished with white worms. On special occasions we get tough, boiled beef. At first we all pooled our money and bribed the guards into buying us extra rations, but our money has finally run out. We were hoping for a prisoner exchange, but with the fighting so close by, there’s not much hope of an exchange now. In fact . . . there’s not much hope at all in this godforsaken place. That’s why I wrote to you. I’m sorry . . . but it was either that . . . or go mad.”

Robert’s eyes met mine and I saw his utter despair. I remembered how eager he’d been to study at West Point, how he’d longed to distinguish himself in battle, and I could well imagine the staggering cost to his pride to have the woman he’d once loved see him in such a state. I tried to spare him the remnants of his dignity by not allowing my pity to show.

“I’m glad you wrote,” I told him. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I gave the guard my pocket watch to deliver the note to you. It was the only thing of value I had left. I was afraid you might have fled to safety when the war started, and I hoped for your sake that you had. I’m glad for my sake that you didn’t.”

“Richmond is my home. I couldn’t leave here.”

“Julia wrote and told me you were engaged.” The pain I saw in Robert’s eyes was so intense I could barely keep from looking away.

“Yes. Have . . . um . . . have you met anyone, Robert?”

He didn’t seem to hear my question. “Is your fiancé fighting for the Rebels?”

“Yes. . . . yes, he is. Charles believes that he is fighting for the South’s freedom.”

“Are you a Rebel, too?”

“No. I . . . I’m not for either side.”

One of the guards suddenly pounded on the door, startling me. “Your time’s up, Miss Fletcher.” I rose to my feet as the key rattled in the lock and the door swung open.

“I’ll be back in a few days, Robert. I promise. I’ll bring you another parcel.”

He didn’t stand, as if hoping to stretch out our visit for as long as he possibly could. His eyes hadn’t left mine. “Your fiancé and the others are deceiving themselves, you know. The Rebels aren’t fighting for freedom, they’re fighting for the right to keep slaves.”

“Let’s go,” the guard shouted. “On your feet.”

At last Robert slowly stood. He handed me the empty basket. “I know that you believe slavery is wrong, Caroline. But maybe what you don’t realize is that if the South wins . . . if your fiancé wins . . . then slavery wins, too.”

I returned to Libby Prison to visit Robert a few days later, bringing him some newspapers and a few books to read—
Les Misérables
by Victor Hugo and my collection of works by Sir Walter Scott. I also brought him my father’s chessboard, a bar of soap, and Mother’s fine-toothed ivory comb to help get the nits out of his hair. Major Turner gave up trying to dissuade me after my third or fourth visit and routinely sent for Robert, locking us in the storeroom for our allotted half-hour. Within a few weeks, Robert looked stronger, saner, and a good deal cleaner than he had on our first visit.

One day he set the food aside instead of eating it right away and leaned forward to grasp my hands. “We need to talk, Caroline. I have a favor to ask of you.” He kept his voice low, as if not wanting the guard to overhear him. “Some of my fellow inmates are newly imprisoned, captured after the latest fighting at Seven Pines. They’ve told me what’s going on out there—and now I’m going to tell you. General McClellan thinks he’s facing vast numbers of Confederate troops. He’s moving too cautiously, waiting for another forty thousand reinforcements to arrive before he attacks. But the men who have passed through enemy lines on the way here know the truth about the Confederate forces. They know how badly outnumbered you are. If we had a way to get that information back to the Union lines, McClellan might stop hesitating and attack.” He paused, gripping my hands tighter still. “Caroline . . . we need you to deliver this information to them.”

I yanked my hands from his grip. “
Me?
Are you out of your mind?”

“Shh . . . shh . . . Listen, if you carried the reports to McClellan, you could help end this war. If the North wins a decisive victory, if we capture Richmond, the war would end tomorrow. President Lincoln’s only goal is to restore the Union.”

I wanted to run from the room, run from the ugliness of what he was suggesting, but I was too stunned to move. “You can’t possibly ask me to betray the Confederate Army. Charles is out there in one of those trenches defending Richmond. It would mean betraying the man I love . . . betraying my cousins . . . my own father. . . .”

“If the war ends quickly, there would be less chance of any of them dying.”

“No, Robert. I can’t help you. I won’t.”

“I know how you feel about slavery, Caroline. If you don’t help me, then you’re betraying your own convictions. You’re helping to keep hundreds of thousands of people in slavery.”

I stood, ready to flee, but my legs trembled so badly I couldn’t take a single step. “I came to help you as an act of charity,” I said. “I never expected you, of all people, to take advantage of my kindness by asking me to do such a terrible thing.”

“Terrible? Wouldn’t it be a greater crime to compromise your beliefs? To betray your God?” He paused. “Here, take this, Caroline.” He shoved a small, pocket-sized Bible into my hands.

“Why? What is this?”

“Look at it carefully. On all of the blank pages and between the lines, my fellow officers and I have written everything we saw and remember of the Confederate forces defending Richmond. We’ve signed our names and ranks to these intelligence reports.”

“I won’t take it,” I said, throwing it down on the bench.

Robert calmly removed all of the food from the basket I’d brought, then put the Bible inside in its place. “Take it home and burn it, then. You’re condemning all of us to death if it’s found in here.” He pushed the basket into my hands. We stared at each other for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “I’m told that if you travel beyond the Confederate lines for a mile or two, our Union pickets will likely intercept you. Give them the book and ask them to take it to the proper authorities. That’s all I’m asking.”

“That’s
all
? How dare you ask me to do this?”

“I dare because I know what you believe. I know you’re convinced that slavery is wrong. ‘Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.’ And I know that you were once committed to doing whatever you could to abolish this evil institution.”

I left the prison so upset that Eli immediately asked me what was wrong. I waited until we reached home, then told him in the privacy of our carriage house. “Robert asked me to help the Yankees. There’s information written in this Bible that he says could help the North win the war. He wants me to deliver it to them.”

“Guess you’re not wanting to do that?”

“I can’t. I would be helping Charles’ enemies, betraying him. This information might endanger his life.”

Eli’s warm brown eyes met mine. “If your mind’s made up not to do it . . . then why you still upset?”

I looked away, remembering Robert’s words. “Because if I don’t do it, I’m helping the South win . . . which means I’m helping all of you remain slaves. Don’t you see? Either way, I’m a traitor.”

Eli exhaled. “You in a hard place, Missy.”

“Could Charles and Daddy be wrong, Eli? Is God on the Yankees’ side? And if so, what about all the people in my church who are earnestly praying to God, asking Him to help the South win? How can I expect my own prayers to keep Charles and Daddy and Jonathan safe?”

Eli pulled up a wooden stool and motioned for me to sit down on it. But he remained standing, pacing a bit as he took his time replying.

“There’s a story in the Bible about when Joshua getting ready to fight the battle of Jericho. He cross over the Jordan River, all alone, and he meet the angel of the Lord, carrying a sword. Joshua ask, ‘Whose side you on, ours or the enemy’s?’ Angel said, ‘Neither one. I’m on God’s side.’

“God’s gonna have His way in this war, Missy, just like He have His way at Jericho. He ain’t on neither side, North or South. But there are things He needs to get done and battles He wants to win in folks’ hearts—up north and down here. People on both sides better not be praying for their wills to be done, because God don’t answer them kind of prayers. They better pray that
His
will be done.”

Eli paused as he stopped beside my stool, then he crouched in front of me so we were eye to eye. “When the angel of the Lord tell Joshua he’s on God’s side, Joshua do the right thing. He fall on his face and say, ‘What does God want his servant to do?’ Joshua decide to serve in God’s army and fight God’s battles instead of trying to get God to fight his battles.”

“Neither the Yankees nor the Rebels are my enemies,” I said. “I don’t believe in either of their causes. Could this . . . could this be the time you warned me would come? Do you think God has prepared me ‘for such a time as this’?”

“That depends. You making up your mind to be His servant?”

“I don’t know . . . I don’t think I can betray Charles. But if I don’t help Robert, then I’m betraying you and Tessie. How do I decide?”

“The decision isn’t who you gonna help and who you gonna betray. The decision is whether or not you gonna listen for God’s voice and do what God telling you to do. Might be something as silly as marching around Jericho in circles. Or it might be as hard and as dangerous as helping the enemy, like Rahab did.”

“How do I know what God is saying? How do I know what He wants me to do?”

“God doesn’t change His mind. What has He already told you about the North and the South, about right and wrong? What do you feel in here, deep in your heart? What is the real battle God wants to fight?”

“Slavery. God hates slavery.” I didn’t even have to think about it. “He loves you the same as He loves me. He doesn’t see the color of our skin. It’s wrong for anyone to own another man.”

“Did He speak that to you from His Holy Word?”

“Yes,” I said in amazement. “Yes, He did. He said we should do away with the yoke of oppression and spend ourselves on behalf of the hungry and oppressed.”

“Then the only thing left to decide is whether you gonna be His servant and say ‘Here I am,’ and go do the job He give you to do—or not.”

I now knew what that job was. Robert had spoken the truth when he’d said that if the South won—if Charles won—then slavery would win, too.

“But what about Charles and Jonathan and Daddy?” I wasn’t sure if I was asking Eli or God.

“It’s a hard thing, Missy, but Jesus say sometimes a man’s enemies are in his own household. He say anyone who loves his family more than Him ain’t fit for the kingdom.”

“But Eli, I’m scared. I can’t just walk over to the Union lines and hand them this book, can I? I won’t even be able to get a travel permit out of Richmond unless I have a good reason for going. Besides, a man got caught spying for the North right here in Richmond a few months ago, and they hanged him.”

Eli didn’t reply at first. As I watched him pull himself to his feet and pace a few more steps, I recalled the verse Tessie had read—how Jesus was obedient even unto death. Queen Esther had said, “If I perish, I perish.” My father and Charles were willing to die for the cause they believed in. Was I?