Spring Will Come (30 page)

             
Rose was the first down the gangplank when it dropped.  Swiftly she made her way to where Marianne was waiting.  “It’s wonderful to see you again,” she cried.

             
“And it’s marvelous to see you, Rose.  I didn’t dare hope I would have the privilege of working with you so soon.”

             
Rose was just as drawn as ever to the caring and warmth in the older woman’s eyes.  “Mr. Lockwood came to our school.  When he talked about how the camps could move the possibility of emancipation forward, I knew I must come now.  I still intend to pursue my education, but I believe I’m to be here for now.”

             
“I’m just glad you’re here,” Marianne said fervently.  “There is so much need - so many students starved for learning.”  Then she glanced toward the boat.  “Did you bring the books?”

             
“I’m surprised the boat didn’t sink under their weight,” Rose laughed.  “The response to Reverend Lockwood’s pleas was incredible.  He told me he thought you would be well pleased.”  Suddenly she remembered her two friends.  “Miss Lockins, I’d like you to meet two more of your new teachers.”  Quickly she introduced Teresa and Carter.  Within moments, the foursome was moving back up the dock. 

             
Rose was silent, torn between despair and hope as they made their way through the outskirts of the contraband camps.  Matthew’s description had not prepared her for the reality. 

             
Marianne read her thoughts.  “Slab Town is probably the worst of our camps.  These people are fairly new.  They arrived, for the most part, with just what they had on their backs.”

             
Rose nodded slowly.  “There are barrels of clothes with the boxes of books,” she stated quietly.  She stared around at the rude log huts and shabby structures made of old pine slabs.  It had rained the night before, turning the dirt into a sucking mud.  Children played in the streets, many of them showing the effects of not enough food. 

             
“I know the conditions aren’t wonderful,” Marianne said apologetically.  “We are doing everything we can to improve them. The government has just named one of the men in our missionary society to be in charge of the contrabands.  We have found ourselves in a constant fight with the government.”

             
“Yes.  Reverend Lockwood talked about it.  I’m glad the quartermaster from the army is no longer in control.”

             
“He cared no more for the contrabands than he did the rats running around the fort,” Marianne said angrily.  “Things will be different, but it will take time.”

             
“Are the people healthy?” Carter asked.

             
Marianne frowned again.  “The conditions here are ripe for passing along sickness and disease.  The children are especially hard hit, I’m afraid.  Reverend Lockwood is pressing the government to provide a doctor just for the camps.”

             
Rose felt the despair disappear from her heart as she gazed around.  The conditions might be deplorable and sickness might be rampant, but certainly the conditions were no worse than what some of them suffered on their plantations.  The Cromwell slaves had been well treated, but Rose knew that was not always the case.  And even though their physical needs had been well cared for, they had been denied education and freedom.  Suddenly she laughed loudly.

             
“Rose?”

             
Rose turned to Marianne with a wide smile on her face.  “Conditions can be changed and improved.  The important thing is that these people are free.  They have the opportunity to learn.  Their children have a chance to live a different life than they have.  We have fought to survive for years.  We will continue to fight.”

             
Marianne turned to Teresa and Carter.  “Rose is right.  Some of our new teachers have not been able to handle the conditions.  They have chosen to leave.  I hope you two will be able to see beyond the poverty and into the hearts of a people who have too long been denied the most basic human rights.  I believe you will find them strong, industrious, and bright.  But only if you open the eyes of your heart - not merely look with the eyes of your head.”

             
Carter was the first to speak.  “We have learned much from Rose on the way down here.  We simply want to help.”  Teresa nodded her agreement. 

             
“Good,” Marianne said firmly.  She stopped in front of a ramshackle hut.  “This is your home, Carter.  You will share it with two other teachers.”  She opened her mouth as if to apologize for the conditions and then shut it again.  “It should be only temporary.  We are working to prepare another home in the main camp.”

             
Carter stared at what was going to be her new home and paled.  Long moments passed before she was able to speak.  “Thank you,” she finally said quietly.  “When will I meet my students?”

             
Rose wanted to cheer her bravery.  Carter had told her some of her background during their boat trip.  She knew the petite blond came from a wealthy Bostonian family.  Tired of what she perceived as a useless life, she had gone to school to be a teacher.  She had been teaching at an exclusive school for girls when she decided to travel to the contraband camps. 

             
“I’ll be back when I get Rose and Teresa settled in,” Marianne said cheerfully.  “I think you’ll like your housemates.  You’ll meet your students tomorrow.”

             
Rose glanced back as Marianne led them down the road.  Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of Carter’s tiny frame outlined by the roughness of the cabin.  She tried to push down her feeling of foreboding.  Rose had seen strength in Carter on the way down but wondered whether her new friend was strong enough to handle such conditions.  For that matter, was she?  She had never known a life of anything but relative luxury compared to this.  Her tiny room in the big plantation house had always been secure and warm, with plenty of good food.  Her time in the cabin Carrie had built for her and Moses after their wedding had been a comfortable haven.  Life with Aunt Abby had been like a dream.  With the exception of the brutal months during the escape, she had never truly known want. 

             
“We call this the Grand Contraband Camp,” Marianne stated proudly. 

             
Rose looked around in surprise.  She had been so deep in thought she had lost track of where they were going.  “What did this used to be?”  Evidence of a dreadful fire was everywhere - charred remains of houses resting on foundations, unsightly dilapidated walls, and blackened chimneys reaching for the sky. 

“It used to be the city of Hampton - before the Confederates burned it during their retreat.  They heard rumors we were going to use it to house
contrabands.  They decided they would rather have it destroyed than used for such purposes.”

             
“They destroyed a whole town just because black people were going to live in it?” Teresa asked incredulously.

             
“You’ll find prejudice and sentiments of hatred run rather high in the South,” Marianne said grimly.  “Of course,” she mused, more to herself than to them, “such sentiments are not               exclusively the domain of Southerners.”

             
Rose looked at her quickly, making a mental note to ask her what had caused such a sad look in her eyes. 

             
Marianne continued.  “Look beyond the charred buildings.  What do you see?”

             
Rose looked again and was immediately impressed.  A large number of neat cottages had sprung up among the ruins.  Gardens were prolific, lending a bright green life of their own. 

             
“The houses have just gone up since this spring.  Most of these people lived in horribly crowded conditions all winter.  The government has given us some lumber; the rest has come from the buildings evacuated by troops after their winter encampment ended.  They have gone up very quickly.”  The pride in her voice was evident.  “The Grand Contraband Camp has become quite a thriving community.  The people here are fishing, oystering, huckstering, gardening, and farming.  Why, there are farms outside of town that blacks have taken over.  There are even a number of dairies now being run by blacks.”

             
Rose looked around, her excitement growing.  “I understand many of the contrabands are working for the government and being paid.”

             
Marianne nodded.  “The refugees are making themselves invaluable to the army.  They work as cooks, servants, stevedores, carpenters - oh, all kinds of things.  Whatever needs to be done, they seem to be able to do it.”

             
Rose watched her closely, once more struck by the sad look in her eyes.  “Is there something wrong?” she asked quietly.

             
Marianne looked at her for a long moment.  “I would prefer you not get too bad of an impression until you have been here longer.”             

             
“I’m here for the long haul,” Rose responded.  “My people need me.”  She paused.  “I would prefer to know the truth.”

             
“Yes,” Marianne nodded.  “The truth is always best.”  She took a deep breath.  “It could be worse, I suppose...”  She shook her head.  “I’m afraid the government is not being particularly prompt about paying the refugees for their work.”

             
“They’re not getting paid at all, are they?” Rose asked, anger darkening her eyes.

             
“Oh, they’re getting paid something, at irregular intervals.”  Marianne’s voice was heavy.  “Reverend Lockwood is trying to do something about it, but I’m afraid…”

             
“That the North doesn’t do a much better job of seeing the blacks as humans than the Southerners do?” Rose asked tensely.  “It sounds to me like being a contraband is not too different from being a slave.”

             
“Things will get better, Rose,” Marianne protested.  “It takes time to change people’s attitudes.  Many of the soldiers show great respect and appreciation for the contrabands.  And things are different.  At least the slaves are free to learn.  They are free to build their own homes.”

             
“So the Northerners can have free labor,” Rose stated flatly.  “How noble of them!”  She fought to control her anger.  Were things never going to be any different for her people? 

             
“I’m sorry,” Marianne said softly.  “We’re not too far from your quarters.  You’ll need to get settled in.”

             
Rage seethed in Rose’s heart as she followed Marianne and Teresa.  Suddenly she remembered something Aunt Abby had said before she left when she was talking about women’s rights.  Women had been concerned for a long time with changing the conditions of their life but had not been particularly concerned about having the vote.  Now they were realizing that until they had the vote - had the power to legislate change for themselves - life was going to remain much the same.  Slowly the anger raging through her steeled into determination as she realized true change was not going to occur until black people were free.  Until they had the ability to make decisions and changes for themselves. 

             
Of course, the Federal government had the idea they owned the contrabands.  Without the protection of the government, most of them would have been captured and returned to their owners.   But someday... someday they would all be free.  Then things would be different.  A slight smile played on Rose’s lips.  She knew why she was here.  Just as she had prepared the Cromwell slaves for freedom before they escaped, she would do her best to prepare her students for the freedom waiting below the horizon.  When it finally appeared and beckoned them all forward, it would be those with education and knowledge who would know best how to embrace it - how to cultivate change for their whole race. 

Moses pushed aside the bushes and peered out - torn by indecision.  His resolve to rescue his
mama and Sadie was wavering.  All he knew about them was that they were sold to a man named Johnson who lived on the James River, one hundred miles north of the city at the base of the mountains.  That was precious little information to go on, with so little time to accomplish his mission.