Distant Dreams (37 page)

The depot hummed with activity, and Carolina found herself engulfed in a swelling crowd of well-wishers and travelers.

“It’s a good thing we secured tickets,” Joseph told York.

“Now I’m glad I won’t be making the trip with you. The afternoon heat will make that car seem like an oven.”

“I’m sure your sister will never notice.”

Carolina heard the words of her father and brother but gave them little consideration. She wanted to memorize every detail of the moment. To remember for the rest of her life what it felt like this first time boarding the train as a passenger bound for a destination.

She allowed her brother to hand her up into the car, then turned and smiled brightly. “I’ll see you Friday.”

“Happy travels,” York replied, then assured Joseph he’d have the carryall there for them at the appointed time.

Joseph urged her forward, and Carolina felt her lips go dry. “I can’t believe it’s truly happening. It seems like a hundred other dreams I’ve had.” She moved down the narrow aisle of wooden bench seats.

Joseph laughed. “Well, it most certainly is happening. In a matter of a couple of hours we’ll be in Baltimore, guests of Philip Thomas and the B&O Railroad. You’ll have your fill of locomotives before we return on Friday.”

“That would be impossible,” she murmured, but her father didn’t seem to hear.

“Louis McLane!” Joseph declared to a stately gentleman not two feet ahead of them.

The tall gentleman turned a questioning eye to Carolina and her father, then recognition dawned. “Joseph Adams. Well, sir, it has been a long while since I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of your company.” He gave a curt nod to Carolina.

“I should say so,” Joseph replied. “Once you left the auspices of the White House, I thought to never hear from you again. What are you doing now that you no longer fill the seat of secretary of state?”

“I’m president of the Morris Canal and Banking Company. Have a seat with me, and I shall be more than happy to engage you on the entire two-year lapse.”

Joseph turned to Carolina. “This is my daughter.”

“Miss Adams.” McLane gave a more formal bow of acknowledgment.

“Carolina, would you mind if we joined Mr. McLane?” Joseph asked.

Carolina was actually glad for the reprieve from small talk with her father. “By my leave, Father.”

Joseph immediately resumed his conversation with McLane. “We have business in Baltimore.”

“As do I,” McLane said and motioned to the open seats.

Carolina took her place beside the window. From here she could watch their progress and note every tree and flowering plant along the rail line. From here she could imagine the rails outstretching to take her far beyond her Virginia home with the respectability of womanhood carefully put in its place. Her father and McLane were deep in conversation concerning the various banking institutes, and while normally she might have eavesdropped in order to learn more about the situation, today she was totally devoted to the railroad.

I’m truly here, she thought. I’m here and within a matter of hours I’ll be in Baltimore. What might my grandfather have thought had he lived to see this day? She all but pressed her nose to the soot-smudged glass.
Am I the only one who sees the significance? Has everyone else already
taken this mode of transportation for granted?
The colors and smells seemed to blend into a swirl of emotions and memories. A thousand times before, she had imagined this very moment. And every time, she had awoken from her thoughts to find them nothing more than dreams of imagination. The screech of the locomotive whistle brought it all back into perspective. This was real; it wasn’t a dream this time.

She thought of the very first time she had seen the locomotive in Washington City. It seemed so long ago, but it had not even been a year. So much had changed for her since then, and deep within she felt that that locomotive had been the catalyst for all the changes. Thinking of that day brought to mind her smudged gloves. They seemed to have been misplaced. She hadn’t seen them since shortly after her birthday party. She had looked everywhere and even questioned the slaves, fearing they might have mistaken them for trash and disposed of them. But the gloves had disappeared. Trying to be mature about the matter, she told herself that perhaps she would find a new memento of the railroad today.

Running her gloved hand along the wooden seat, Carolina waited in nervous anticipation for the first lurch of the car. Would it come smooth in a gliding motion or rough and uneven? She hadn’t long to wait. The movement, jolting and hesitant, gave the first sign of forward motion. Jerking against each other in a metallic tug-of-war, the cars groaned against the pull, but the ever efficient grasshopper engine held fast and surged them ahead. Carolina suddenly realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out with a long sigh.

Joseph turned from his conversation to squeeze her hand. “And so our adventure begins, eh?”

Carolina nodded, near to tears from the emotions coursing through her. She looked back out the window to the world now slipping by at the steady rate of six miles an hour. Soon they would speed ahead to fifteen miles an hour, possibly more. Would the countryside simply be a blur of colors and indistinguishable structures? Her hands felt clammy inside her gloves and perspiration formed on the back of her neck, but she gave it no mind. It either came from her excitement or from the heat, but either way, it didn’t matter. She was on her way to Baltimore. She was in a passenger car of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, and somehow her world seemed not so small and insignificant anymore.

40

Along the Way

If someone would have described for Carolina the beauty that would pass by her window, she’d have doubted the integrity of the teller. She had known the states of Virginia and Maryland to be lovely, but the richness of color and the glorious contrast of vegetation and wildlife was far more than she’d ever anticipated.

Thick forests of oaks, poplars, elm, cottonwood, and hickory edged up to the clearing that had been set aside for the railroad. A right-of-way wide enough to discourage the smokestack sparks from setting fire to the countryside had been established, but to hear tales told, it did little in actuality to keep the deed from happening. Fire was perhaps the most protested, negative aspect of rail travel. Fire was so greatly feared in the city, in fact, that her father had already told her the passenger cars would be hooked up to horses at the Mt. Clare station in order for them to journey into Baltimore proper.

Someday, she thought, mesmerized by the way the ground sped by up close yet seemed to hardly move at a distance, they’ll find a way to work through all these problems, and locomotives will travel everywhere. James had assured her it was only a matter of time, and Carolina believed him with all her heart. There was a great deal about James she’d hoped to forget on this trip, but at every turn or jostle of the car, she instantly remembered some spoken word or article he’d shared. He was to be her sister’s husband, and there was no room for the thoughts she held inside her head. James would be her brother-in-law, nothing more, and the sooner she dealt with that issue, the better.

They’d made several stops for water, coal, and passengers, yet it seemed to Carolina they’d only ridden a short way when McLane leaned her direction and spoke.

“We’re not far from Baltimore now. This is Relay, Maryland.” The locomotive was slowing. “We’ll take on water here, maybe a few passengers, and then cross the river on the Thomas Viaduct. It’s a masterpiece of design and construction and one of the prouder portions of the B&O’s ever growing line.”

“How interesting,” Carolina murmured, uncertain how to respond to this man she scarcely knew. If she showed too much interest, would it create an embarrassment for her father? She was determined to repay her father’s generosity in taking her on this trip by being as well-mannered as possible.

“Mr. McLane was just telling me about this bridge. It’s quite fascinating, my dear.” Her father’s words seemed to indicate to Carolina that any interest shown would be well received.

The sound of the wheels beneath them changed in pitch, and glancing out the window again, Carolina watched as the train rolled to a stop beside a three-story depot. “Will we have time to walk about? Perhaps view the bridge?”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” McLane assured. “In fact, I’d be happy to escort you and your father to a viewing platform the designer had built in order to view the progress of construction. We can be up and back before you know it. How about it, Adams? Are you interested?”

“Quite.” Joseph got to his feet. “Lead on.”

Carolina found the afternoon walk invigorating as she followed Louis McLane and her father up a rocky pathway. They left the road and climbed a grassy knoll resplendent in blossoms of pink lady’s slipper and dogtooth violets. When they reached a small wooden platform, McLane offered his arm to help Carolina up the five short steps to view the bridge.

“How glorious!” exclaimed Carolina. The bridge stretched across a large chasm in a series of elliptical arches.

“That’s the Patapsco River down there,” McLane said for her benefit. “The bridge is some sixty feet above it in order for the freight boats to comfortably pass beneath. The entire span is over six hundred feet long, and this is the only stone-arch bridge in the world built on a curve. Of course, it’s difficult to see just how much it curves from this vantage point, but the engineer told me it is a full four degrees.”

“Indeed?” Carolina’s interest was piqued. “The arches give it a stately look, but you’re right—it doesn’t look so very curved from where we stand.”

“There must be at least a half dozen archways,” Joseph re–marked.

“There are eight to be exact,” McLane replied. “Ben Latrobe, a gentleman who once worked as a surveyor for the B&O, created this design. Folks were certain it couldn’t be done. In fact, they laughed at the design when it was first described. They were sure it would collapse under its own weight, but as you can see, it’s quite reliable.”

Carolina thought of the sixty-foot plummet to the bottom of the Patapsco and shuddered.

“Oh, I assure you, we are quite safe,” McLane said, noting her reaction. “That Maryland granite won’t be moved. I’d venture to say this bridge will stand for generations to come. The Romans couldn’t have done a better job, and I speak quite knowledgeably from a recent trip abroad.” He smiled warmly and Carolina returned his gesture. She was far too excited to be truly worried.

“I have the utmost confidence in the B&O Railroad, Mr. McLane,” she said.

“As do I,” he assured.

Joseph mopped his brow with a handkerchief and agreed. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this sight. Say, you mentioned Ben Latrobe designed this bridge. I knew his father, God rest his soul. As an architect he laid a great many of the designs for the city of Washington.”

McLane smiled. “It’s a talented family. Ben has just returned from working with the Baltimore and Port Deposit Railroad to once again take charge of surveying for the B&O. His brother John is offering legal counsel to Philip Thomas.”

“You know quite a bit about the B&O,” Joseph remarked.

“Let’s just say I have acquired a deep interest in the company.”

Carolina remained quiet, simply taking in the sight and committing it to memory. A light breeze lifted the edges of her flounces, causing them to ruffle in the breeze like the flagging stems of the lady’s slippers. Overhead, light wispy clouds hung like cobwebs against a pale blue sky. It was a moment forever hers.

A single long blast of the locomotive whistle was their cue to return promptly to the
J.Q. Adams
. Carolina descended the rickety wooden steps and took her father’s offered arm for the return walk. Jagged rocks threatened to bruise her feet even through the protection of her sturdy traveling boots, but it was of little matter. The day was perfect, and the Thomas Viaduct held a silent challenge. They said it couldn’t be done. The bridge couldn’t possibly work. It would collapse beneath its own weight. Somehow, these thoughts seemed akin to the hundreds of statements she’d heard in regard to her education and her desire to be a part of the railroad. It was almost as if the bridge beckoned her to go forward. To defy them all. To prove them wrong. She was here, after all. That in and of itself said something very important.

And when they arrived in Baltimore and the conductor yelled, “Charles and Pratt Station—end of the line!” Carolina knew it was not the end, but only the beginning for her.

41

Philip Thomas

Compared to Washington City, with its forty thousand residents, Baltimore, a town of more than sixty-five thousand, was a teeming metropolis. Carolina had never seen the like, and she gazed about with wonder as the carriage sent by Philip Thomas drove her and her father from the station. The claim that the city was the second commercial city in the world was far-fetched—even Carolina realized that. But it was the third largest city by population in America, and it certainly looked as though it could compete with London or Paris in commerce.

The Thomas home was a stately mansion on a broad tree-lined avenue. A couple of servants unloaded the baggage from the carriage while the butler led them into a finely appointed parlor where Mr. Thomas greeted them warmly.

“I have to apologize,” he said, “for not meeting you myself at the station. I lately find myself embarrassingly disposed by an illness my physician is unable to diagnose. I hope you had a pleasant journey here.”

Joseph nodded. “It was one well worth taking. But I’m sorry to hear about your illness. It would seem we came at an inconvenient time.”

“Don’t give it a thought. I only regret that I will be unable to show you around as I would have liked. However,” he said, taking a seat and motioning for Joseph and Carolina to do the same, “I have made arrangements, and I don’t believe you’ll be disappointed.”

“Mr. Thomas, we certainly don’t wish to put you to any unnecessary discomfort.” Joseph purposefully avoided his daughter’s eyes. He knew how important this trip was to Carolina. She had suffered a great blow with her mother’s intolerance toward continued education.