Grant Comes East - Civil War 02 (31 page)

Brown finally started to warm to him. The young lieutenant looked and sounded sincere; his enthusiasm for this shadowy work was clearly evident

"What news, first?" Kane asked, warming up as well.

"We're coming," Kirby said with a grin. "I can't tell you exactly how or when, but the army is on the march, heading straight to Baltimore. By this time tomorrow this city will be free of the Yankee tyranny."

Brown and Kane looked at each other and broke into grins. Brown, with a flourish, opened a sideboard and produced a thick-cut glass decanter and three heavy tumblers. Pouring three shots of brandy, he passed them around and silently held his glass aloft

To hell with the ban on saying it" Kane snapped, "here's to the glorious Confederacy."

Brown looked over at Kirby. If this was indeed some sort of elaborate trap, to get the two of them to utter a so-called traitorous oath, Kane had just done it Kirby simply grinned

To the glorious Confederacy," the lieutenant said drained the glass, then was hit an instant later by a spasm of coughing.

To the glorious Confederacy" Brown whispered still not quite sure if he could believe what was happening. A little more than two years ago he had been dragged out and arrested his right to habeas corpus denied incarcerated without charges in Fort McHenry, and then transported like a common slave, to Fort Warren up in Boston. There he had languished for over a year before finally being released last
fall. Never an apology, never a comment about what he had been charged with, just sent home with a stern warning that if he ever uttered a word against the Union, it would be back to prison, and this time they would throw away the keys.

Hundreds of others in Baltimore and eastern Maryland had endured the same fate, recalling to many of them the worst of the tyranny of kings, and a stunned disbelief that the principles of the Constitution could be so basely abused. If anything, the Federal government's abuse of power was proof positive of the righteousness of the Confederate cause.

It had, up to this moment, broken the spirit of the city of Baltimore, a place of fear, with armed bands patrolling the street, a place where ruffians lorded over them, their women were insulted in the street, and none dared to speak in what was now a Southern town under the fist of a foreign power.

God willing, that was about to change at last The day of liberation was at hand. The city had been seething with rumors ever since Union Mills, waiting, hoping. Though all understood the need to take Washington first, still there had been consternation that not a single brigade of Jeb Stuart's famed cavaliers had made the attempt to free Baltimore as well. If this boy was to be believed though, they were coming at last!

He set his glass back down.

Kirby nodded.

"Now please tell me what you think might be helpful to General Stuart"

"The guard," Kane started. "The Loyal League. I would guess it numbers around five thousand. They're good at beating up defenseless old men and terrorizing women, but against any kind of disciplined military force? They'll scurry like rabbits."

"The garrison?"

"What little was here was all but stripped out and sent down to Washington last week. There's the First Connecticut Cavalry based at Federal Hill, several other regiments scattered around the city. It's been hard to keep track of things the last week. Anywhere we attempt to go we are followed by traitors and spies. We are stopped far outside the range of any of the forts or headquarters."

"The hospitals are packed with wounded coming in from Gettysburg and Union Mills," Brown interjected. "A thousand or more, I heard. Also, there are maybe five hundred paroled Union prisoners downtown as well, waiting for the final paperwork for their exchanges along with several hundred Confederate prisoners. At Fort McHenry at least a hundred civilians are being held under guard as well."

"So your estimate of the fighting strength?"

"As I said," Kane excitedly jumped back in, "some of the troops were ordered down to Washington by General Heintzelman. I'd estimate roughly two to three thousand infantry, the regiment of cavalry, some heavy artillery, and that's it"

Kirby smiled and then gladly accepted a second glass of brandy poured by Brown, but this time only sipped from it

"We heard you attacked Washington but not a word of the results. All telegraph lines into and out of Baltimore in every direction are down. Did you take it?"

Kirby shook his head.

"I rather assumed that given you were coming here," Brown interjected.

'Tell General Stuart this," Kane said forcefully. "Come on quickly. There are rumors that the Army of the Potomac is reorganizing at Perryville. If they have word of your coming, they could rush trainloads of troops down here in a matter of hours, man the fortifications, and it will be a bloody price to get in here."

Kirby smiled.

"We're aware of them, sir."

"I'll sketch out the fortifications for you if you want, son," Kane said.

Kirby shook his head.

"Sir, I was told not to be caught carrying any maps or such on me, so I think I'll refrain from that. Just what I can carry in my head. But if you'd draw some rough sketches, I'll try and remember the details."

Kane nodded and, returning to the table, he called for Brown to bring some papers and a pencil. Minutes later he had produced rough sketches of the primary fortifications guarding Baltimore, Kirby leaning over the table to examine them carefully.

"There are over seventy heavy guns in Fort McHenry, a dozen heavy guns on Federal Hill," Kane said. "The garrisons are definitely not front-line troops, but behind for
tifi
cations they could be formidable."

"Suppose rioting should break out in the city?" Kirby asked. "We don't want anything serious, I'm told to convey that to you. Nothing that could get out of hand, but sufficient to clog roads, prevent the movement of troops, perhaps spread panic with the garrisons."

Kane looked over meaningfully at Brown.

"Yes, there are thousands waiting for this day."

Kirby said nothing more, and the two civilians looked at each other and smiled.

Ch
apter
El
even

In Front of Baltimore

July 21, 1863 3:00pm

G
eneral Longstreet, what is the situation?" General Lee, reining in Traveler, looked expectantly at Old Pete, who had been busy shouting orders to several staff officers. The staff, clearly aware of Lee's arrival, hurriedly saluted, turned, and galloped off.

"McLaws's division is deployed for action, sir," Long-street yelled, in order to be heard above the thunder of a battalion of artillery that was firing less than fifty yards away.

The battalion was wreathed in smoke; General Alexander, newly promoted to command of all artillery for the Army of Northern Virginia, was racing back and forth along the line of guns, motioning another battery into place along the low ridge.

On the flank of the guns, McLaws's division was ready to go, haversacks and equipment dropped in regimental piles, battle lines forming up, officers pacing back and forth nervously. Having ridden up from Ellicott Mills, Lee had just passed Pickett's division, coming on at the double across the open fields.

"Jeb did his job here," Longstreet announced. "You can hear his skirmishers forward even now, probing their line."

'Taking the bridges at Ellicott Mills was a feat," Lee said in agreement.

His young cavalier was at his best again, the failure before Gettysburg still a goad, a blemish to be redeemed. In a predawn charge he had personally led a brigade into Ellicott, seizing the town, leaving garrison and bridges intact, a feat that had laid Baltimore open to mem. Throughout the day the men of Longstreet's corps had been storming across the bridges, deploying to approach Baltimore from the west side of town.

He raised his field glasses. The town was clearly in sight, high church spires, smokestacks of factories, warehouses, rich homes, all of it wreathed in smoke.

"Is the town burning?" Lee asked.

Longstreet nodded.

"Started around noon."

"Who started it?"

"It wasn't us, sir. I've held fire back to hit just their fortifications. It must be inside the dry."

"We've got to get in there before it goes out of control."

"Here comes Jeb" Longstreet announced

It was indeed Stuart, riding hard on a lathered horse, staff trailing behind him, plumed hat off; he was using it to strike the flank of his horse. Troops seeing him approach let out a rebel yell in greeting.

Grinning, he reined in before Longstreet and Lee.

"A lovely day!" Stuart exclaimed, waving his hat to the sparkling blue skies overhead.

They're abandoning the lines, running in panic, General Lee! Some of my men are already into their fortifications. We need that artillery fire lifted, General Longstreet"

Longstreet shouted an order to a waiting staff officer, who ran off toward Alexander.

"One of my young spies just came through the lines," Stuart announced, pointing to a sweat-soaked lieutenant behind him.

"Lieutenant Kirby, sir," and the boy saluted with a flourish.

"Your report, Lieutenant?" Lee asked.

"Sir, it is chaos in the city. The panic started midmorning with the reports that Stuart's cavalry was in sight I tried to get back through during the night but got trapped in an attic loft when I was chased by one of their Loyal League patrols. Fortunately I knew the neighborhood, and a friend of my family hid me. I'm sorry I didn't get back through earlier."

'That's all right son. I'm glad you are safe."

"Sir, their garrison is not more man several thousand, but a panic just exploded around noon. Deserters are pouring into the city, many of them heading down to Fort McHenry. Word is the commander there is threatening to shell the city."

"He wouldn't dare," Stuart grumbled "That's against all rules of civilized warfare."

"He just might," Longstreet replied.

"Is that what started the fires?"

"I couldn't tell for sure, sir. I did hear some artillery fire. The family mat was hiding me, they said that fighting is breaking out in the streets between the Loyal League and those on our side. It's getting ugly."

"How so?'

"Burning, sir. Hangings, executions." "General Stuart, did you leave the northern roads open as ordered?"

"Yes, sir. I have patrols watching them, but there are no troops moving in."

"I want those roads kept open. If we cork the bottle, those people in there just might turn and fight I want them to know there is a way to get out safely. We can chase their infantry down later, out in the open, but I don't want them barricading themselves into the city."

"I'm certain it is still open, General Lee."

"Sir," Kirby interrupted. "I urge you to go in now. It is getting out of control in the city. Your presence will stop it; otherwise all of Baltimore might burn to the ground."

Lee nodded, looking over at Longstreet.

"Send McLaws in now, General Longstreet"

"Sir, I'd prefer to have Pickett up on the line before we attack."

"There is nothing organized in front of us to attack," Stuart announced. "As I said, my boys are already into some of their fortifications."

Longstreet nodded toward Lee.

"As you wish, sir."

He urged his mount away from the group and raced off to where McLaws and his staff were waiting. Orders were shouted. Thousands of men stood up, rifles flashing in the brilliant afternoon sunlight Drums rolled, officers, most of them mounted, riding up and down the lines, waving their swords.

The division lurched forward, five thousand strong; as the men cleared the crest, passing through Alexander's guns, which had fallen silent a cheer went up.

Caught up in the moment, Lee fell in on their flank, standing in his stirrups, urging them on.

The day was glorious, bright, crystal-blue sky, a touch of breeze whipping out the flags, men cheering, the city of Baltimore before them.

First Church of the Redeemer (AME), Baltimore

July 21, 1863 3:15
p.m.

Jo
hn Miller stood in the nave of the church along with many of the other elders, his wife and three children gathered fearfully around him.

It was chaos. The small, clapboard-sided church was packed beyond overflowing, hundreds more gathered out in the streets and yard around this center of their community. A white officer from the army was up at the pulpit trying to be heard, Miller and the other elders shouting for those around them to fall silent to hear what was being said The officer looked down at Miller, exasperated, and then actually motioned to his revolver, as if ready to draw it and fire it into the ceiling. John shook his head, pushed his way up to the side of the pulpit, and cupped his hands. "Everyone! Shut up!" he roared

His tone, his bull-like voice, a voice of command gained from years working in the heat and thunder of the Abbot Rolling Mills, cut through the chaos. At this moment the shy, soft words of a preacher just would not have done it
. Th
e church fell silent though the tumult out in the street still rolled in to them, counterpointed by the distant nimble of artillery fi
re
in Baltimore. What was to be their fate? No one said. Some of the Loyal League, the pro-Union militia that had taken over the city, claimed that black men would hang from every lamppost in Baltimore if the rebels came. John knew that was just talk to stir up passions, but there might be a grain of truth to it. More than one whose loyalties were with the South had said the exact opposite, that all would be as before. There were some though that muttered that "the niggers had gotten the upper hand," and a day of reckoning would come.

He looked at his friends and neighbors, his own family huddled in the crowd, and knew something would have to be done. They could not just stand here like sheep waiting for the slaughter, praying that the good mercies of their white neighbors would see them through. Yes, most of them were good neighbors, but one lone wolf could still slaughter them all or take them back into slavery.

He had never known that bitter bondage. He was a skilled man, helping to oversee one of the rolling mills that turned out iron plate for the navy. He would die before a slave catcher would ever place a hand upon him, or his skills would ever be turned to feeding the Confederate cause.

"Major, which way is your army fleeing?"

"Some to McHenry, others on the road north, following the tracks of the Philadelphia and Wilmington Railroad. Why?"

"I'm leaving," John announced, his voice raised so all could hear. "I'm taking my family and going north."

The major looked at him and men nodded with approval.

"Don't go down to the Fort There will most likely be fighting there. Boats are already taking many out; I doubt though if they will allow you colored to board. Get on the road north and stay on it. There are some troops moving on it who should protect you."

"We'll protect ourselves," John said harshly. "Some of us have guns."

"Don't do that; you know what will happen if you are caught with weapons."

"Major, if you were me, wouldn't you carry a gun?"

The major, taking no insult as some white folk would have, looked at John and men smiled.

"The army, as you know, is recruiting for colored regiments. Go to Wilmington. Better yet, Philadelphia, where the recruiting and training camps are for the colored regiments. Go there, become a soldier, then come back and fight to liberate Baltimore from the Confederates!"

John listened but said nothing. For the moment all he cared for was to get the hell out of this town and move his family to safety.

John left the pulpit, garnered his wife and three children under his arms, and headed for the door.

‘I’
m leaving now," he shouted "Any who want to go with me, pack up some food, leave everything else behind, and let's get out of this God-cursed city before the rebels get here."

Near
Federal
Hill,
Baltimore