Stars & Stripes Forever (39 page)

"You should be—and so should I," the President said. "But there are also times when you should play poker with your cards close to your chest. The city of Washington is populated by foreign agents, eager to seek out any tiny nugget of information and sell it on. But you should at least know that certain operations are in progress. Orders have gone out, carried by hand since we found numberless taps, people listening in, on our telegraph wires. I, personally, do not know the details of these endeavors, so no one in this Cabinet should feel put out. What I can tell you is that the British in Canada are due for some interesting experiences in the very near future."

There was a secretive smile on his face when he left the Cabinet Room, almost mischievous. It might be safe to tell them what was in the wind, but Chase was a great gossip. Seward would undoubtedly tell his daughter; word might leak out. Better to just not talk about it no matter how put out the Cabinet might feel.

Hay met the President in the hall as he left the Cabinet Room.

"The delegation of Negroes is here now. I let them into the President's Office to wait. Told them you would be there as soon as the Cabinet meeting was over."

"I will see them now. Do you have any inkling of what they have in mind?"

"None at all, although I did make inquiries as you asked me to."

"Then we shall see, we shall see." He turned the knob and went in.

The men stood when Lincoln entered. The well-dressed Negroes took this meeting very seriously, and looked with great interest at the man who was having the most drastic effect upon their lives.

"I believe that I have met some of you before at an earlier conference."

"You have, Mr. President," their leader E. M. Thomas said. "We had a most interesting discussion with you in this very same room."

"We did indeed. As I recall your group then was less than enthusiastic about Congressional approval for the plan for Negro settlements in South America."

Lincoln spoke without rancor, although the formation of the settlements had been a favorite of his. Then he realized that there was a newcomer in the group whom he had never seen before. A burly man with a thick growth of hair, a pointed beards—and the most concentrated and intense scowl that he had ever seen on a human face. The man pushed by the others and put out a muscular hand.

"I am Frederick Douglass, Mr. President," he said. Shaking the man's hand was like seizing a slab of wood.

"I of course know of you by reputation, Mr. Douglass. It is time we met."

"Time indeed. The Reconstruction Bill that you presented to the Congress is as important as the Constitution itself. It is the first step along the road that will lead to the freedom of my people. Your stature among the Negroes, both in the North and South has never been equaled by another human being. Uncle Linkum, as the slaves call you, places you upon a pinnacle in Zion. Every other boy baby is now named Abraham in your honor."

"Indeed..." the President said, for once at a loss for words. The others in the group murmured in agreement to Douglass's words.

"That is why you must do more," Douglass said with grim intensity; the murmurs of approval turned to gasps of shock. "Once you have set your foot upon the road of freedom you must walk the entire length of it. To the very end where my people must have the same rights as your people. To be free in every way, free to own their own property and free to vote in free elections."

There was shocked silence among the listening men at the strong words addressed to the leader of the country. One of them pulled at the sleeve of Douglass's jacket; he shrugged the man off.

Lincoln tugged at his beard, his face expressionless. "You make your views quite clear," he finally said. "Now I suggest that we take our seats and see where this frank discussion might lead. In some of your speeches that I have read I note that you have a pretty poor opinion of this country that you want to join."

"I do now—but that could change."

"I surely hope so. I don't see how a person who hates the Fourth of July can be a true American."

If possible, Douglass's perpetual scowl deepened. "I said that this holiday has no meaning for black Americans. Nor does it. Slavery brands your republicanism as a sham, your humanity as a base pretense, your Christianity as a lie."

"In the slave states what you say is true. But soon slavery will be at an end."

"It is my strongest wish to see that day. But it is my fear that the deeply prejudiced slave owners and planters will not surrender their slaves that easily. That is why we have come to meet with you this day. To bring you our aid. You must enlist the help of the former slaves to assure their own freedom. The black churches are united in the South and you must seek their cooperation. Other black organizations are also offering hope."

Lincoln nodded. "We shall. I am also organizing a committee to oversee the enforcement of emancipation."

"I should indeed hope so. How many Negroes will be on that committee?"

"I hadn't considered..."

"Then consider it now!" Douglass said, jumping to his feet. "If the committee for administrating equality does not have equality then you are lost before you begin. I thereby ask you to appoint me to that committee. What say you, sir?"

"I say," Lincoln drawled slowly, "I say that you have a very positive personality, Mr. Douglass, and a very forceful one. Some might say that your temerity borders on effrontery, but I shall not be so bold as to say that. I do not know what your career ambitions are in life, but I do say that you would make a good railroad lawyer."

The small jest released the tension in the air; some of the group even smiled. A slight nod of Douglass's head was more of an acknowledgment of a worthy opponent than agreement. Before he could speak again the President went on.

"I shall take your words to the committee when it is formed and tell them of my agreement with your position."

The meeting ended on this conciliatory note. Lincoln, ever the professional politician, had neither given ground nor made any promises that could not be kept. Although he did believe that Douglass's suggestions were for the good. The cooperation of the freed slaves was a necessity.

The flat fields on the banks of the St. Lawrence River were ideal for an encampment. The last wheat had been cut and the stubble was crisp underfoot. The air was beginning to warm up under the pale sun, but there was still a scattering of snow in the furrows from the previous night's flurries. Winter was drawing close. The tents were quickly set up and camp made.

Private Ducrocq was leading the colonel's horse; he joined the horse handlers from the artillery on the track down to the water. It was nice here, except for the cold it reminded him very much of the Mississippi near Baton Rouge. Even the flatboat out there on the river was much like the ones he had poled through the muddy waters at home. He looked with interest as the oarsmen turned it toward the shore as it came closer, then grounded close by the drinking horses. The solid, gray-haired man standing in the bow stepped carefully ashore. He looked around at the horses and soldiers and nodded happily.

"C'est l'armee Americaine, n'est-ce pas?"
he asked.

"Oui, certainment. Etes-vous Français?"
Ducrocq replied.

"Certainment pas, mon vieux! Je suis Français Canadien. Je suis id pour parler à votre officier supérieur, le Général Johnston."

Ducrocq pointed out the officers' tents in the field above. Louis Joseph Papineau thanked him and went up the bank. The soldier looked after him and thought what a strange accident it was to meet someone speaking French up here in the cold north so far from home. Then he laughed aloud.

Even a simple
garçon
from the bayous knew that there were few coincidences like this in war. French Canada was just across the river—and two regiments of French-speaking American soldiers were on this shore. And then there were the gun batteries and the heavy-laden wagons. Something very interesting was in the wind.

"Rifles," General Johnston said, pointing into the open box. "The very newest Spencer-breech loading, repeating rifles. They fire ten shots before they have to be reloaded. They are different, of course, from muzzle-loading rifles. But not difficult to master. Our soldiers have had recent experience with them and will be happy to show your men how to use them with the greatest efficiency."

"That will take some time, General. Unhappily most of my loyal followers come from small towns and farms and speak only French."

"I think that you will pleased to discover that will not be a problem. Canada is not the only part of North America where French is spoken."

"Of course! The Louisiana Purchase. You have troops from that area, around New Orleans."

"We do."

"I should have realized when I was answered in French by one of your soldiers. I thank you for the guns—and for your willing instructors."

"I have also been ordered to aid you in any way that I can. The battle plan and attack will be yours, of course. But you will be fighting regular troops and I can assure you that you will need cannon to assure victory."

A steam whistle sounded in the distance, then once again. Johnston pulled his watch from his pocket and looked at it.

"Accurate to the minute. I wish that all operations of war went this well."

They emerged from the tent as the warship came around the bend, two more steaming in her wake.

"Cargo ships from Lake Ontario. They had the armor plate and guns added in Rochester. Originally built to stop any waterborne British invasion—across the lakes. But I think they will be just as good on the attack as on the defense."

Papineau was wild with delight and would have embraced and kissed Johnston if the general had not stepped quickly back.

"I am overwhelmed,
mon général.
Before, when we had our rebellion I had only men, boys really, armed with their fathers' hunting guns. So we lost. Now I have these so marvelous weapons you bring. Your soldiers, big cannon—and now this. I tell you Montreal will fall at a single blow, for there are only a few hundred English troops in the city. And I have agents there already, talking to the local Canadian militia who have no love for the
Anglais.
They will rebel, follow us to a man."

"And they will be reinforced by my troops. Since the British are raiding south from Canada, I have no compunction about invading your country."

"It is no invasion. You are most welcome. I see this action as brother aiding brother."

"We will have to cross the river. Where do you suggest that we land?"

He spread out a map and Papineau examined it closely, then pointed to a spot.

"Here. There are flat meadows and an old timber dock, just here, so landing from your ships will be quite easy. Also—this small forest shields the landing from the city which is around this bend in the river. It is not a long journey and my men know all the paths and roads. A march could be done during the night, to be in position to attack at dawn."

"Agreed. That is just what we will do."

A steam whistle sounded as the ironclads swung in toward the landing; the troops cheered and went down to greet them. Papineau's eyes were unfocused, as though he were seeing the incredible events of the future taking place before him.

"First Montreal—and then on to Quebec. We will succeed, we must succeed. Canada will be French once again."

General Johnston nodded as though he agreed. Though in truth he had little thought of Canada, French or not. He was fighting this war to lick the British. If an uprising in French Canada could help destroy the enemy, why then he was very much in favor of it. In war you use any weapon to hand. In this he was very much in agreement with his new commanding officer, General Sherman. You fight wars to win.

Far to the south, in a far wanner clime, a brief but fierce engagement was coming to an end. The only fortifications in the British West Indies were on the islands of Jamaica, Barbados and St. Lucia. The two smaller islands, important coaling stations, had fallen quickly to the American attackers who then pressed on to Jamaica. The headquarters of the Imperial West India Station had always been considered impregnable to attack by sea. The harbor of Kingston had heavily reinforced gun positions guarding its entrance; any enemy ship attempting to enter would be destroyed by fire.

Any wooden ship that is. General Ulysses S. Grant had experience at reducing gun batteries with ironclad gunboats, at Forts Henry and Donelson. Now he had the
Avenger
with her twin turrets, each mounting two 400-pound Parrott guns, far heavier than the guns he had used before. From the deck of the steam frigate
Roanoke
he had watched emplacement after emplacement pounded and destroyed. Some of the gun emplacements were shielded by stone walls that fell slowly when struck by solid cannonballs. For these the
Avenger
used explosive shells that blasted great openings in the defenses, destroyed the artillery behind them. The defenders kept firing to the last—and every cannonball bounced harmlessly from the ironclad's armor.

When the last gun was silenced the wooden-hulled
Roanoke
had led the troop transports into the harbor. Resistance was slight—as expected. Spies had revealed that the garrison in Newcastle consisted of only four companies of the West India Regiment. The other regiments, infantry, Royal Engineers and Royal Artillery had been sent to the American campaign. The remaining regiment had been dispersed about the island and could not be assembled in time to prevent the Americans from landing. When the port had been taken and Government House seized, Grant had finished his report on the operation and taken it personally to Commodore Goldsborough on
Avenger.

"Well done Commodore, well done."

"Thank you General. I know that you have experience of combined army and navy operations, but this was an education to me. Is that the report for the President?"

"It is."

"Excellent. I shall have it telegraphed to him as soon as I reach Florida to take on coal. I will get my ammunition and powder that I need in Baltimore, then continue north. At full speed. It is hard to realize in these salubrious islands that winter has arrived."