Storm Clouds Rolling In (75 page)

Robert stared at the older man.
Crawford spoke as if he were merely reporting facts. There was very little emotion in his voice. “But, sir,” he protested, “that is simply manipulation. Surely you cannot agree with it!” Robert could not even identify the source of his own unrest. Suddenly the whole picture had taken on a different hue. He felt vaguely certain he was one of the sheep Crawford was alluding to.

Crawford suddenly turned to look deep into his eyes.
“As long as there are people willing to be manipulated and controlled, there will be people eager to step forward and accept the position.” He glanced down at his watch before straightening. “I have an appointment, Mr. Robert Borden. It was a pleasure to meet you.” He reached out and shook Robert’s hand firmly. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I have bored you with all my talk.” Robert opened his mouth to protest, but Crawford gave him no opportunity. “I can’t stop the madness going on around me, young man.” He hesitated slightly. “But if I can reach out and cause even one person to stop and think—even if all they all do is look back after this horrible war is over and say one old man in Charleston knew what was really coming—then I can sleep at the end of each day.” He laughed shortly. “You just happened to be the lucky one today.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd as quickly as he had appeared.

Robert stared after him for several long moments and then resumed his position on the railing.
The old man had given him a lot to think about.

Two nights later, Robert was jolted from his bed by a deep blast in the distance.
The first was followed by yet another, and then another. It took a moment for reality to seep into his fogged mind. When it did, he jumped from his bed, slipped into his clothes and took off for the harbor at a wild run. It was 4:30 a.m. on the twelfth of April. The Battle of Fort Sumter had just begun.

The streets of Charleston were full of people
—men, women and children—racing down to find the best seats for the show. Five thousand people crowded the cobblestone roads and filled every rooftop with a view of the battle. Excited calls and cries of joy filled the night. Finally the standoff had been ended. Action had been taken! The honor of the glorious South could no longer be trampled on.

“Now the North will see
that there will be terrible consequences to pay if they don’t leave us be!”

Robert turned to look at the well-dressed man yelling into his ear.
This was the first attention he had paid to the throngs pressed against the Battery railing. He nodded. “Once they get a taste of it, this whole thing will be over before it starts!” he yelled back. “This war will be so short most people won’t even know it happened.” Robert smiled as a thrill coursed through his tense body. Crawford’s words had caused him to think deeply for two days as he had waited for the old man’s predictions to come true, and he had started to harbor serious doubts. The whoosh, boom, and mighty explosions caused by the battle raging around him made all doubts flee his mind. The mighty South would not be controlled. Victory would be theirs—by right
and
by might.

THIRTY-SIX

Carrie started violently as the front door closed with a slam. She laid her book down hastily and jumped up to meet her father who was striding into the library. “Father! What is wrong?”

“It’s started,” Thomas said sternly.
“The war has started. Fort Sumter has been fired upon.” His last words were spoken wearily, as if the force of emotions he had been assailed with had drained his energy.

Carrie stared at him for several long moments and then moved forward to take his arm.
“You look tired. Please sit down and tell me what has happened.”

Thomas nodded absently.
“Of course.” He sank down into a chair and turned to face her. “I thought you should know at once. I have to leave soon to head back to the capitol but I wanted you to know. The telegram just came into the governor. Sumter was attacked at 4:30 this morning after Anderson refused to surrender the fort to the Southern government.” He rubbed his face as he spoke. “It was hours before Sumter even fired back. Our report says the skies over Charleston looked like a giant fireworks display as all points surrounding Sumter opened fire.”

“The war has started...” Carrie said, sick with disbelief.
“Will Virginia secede now?”

“Most of the city of Richmond has
already
seceded,” Thomas said bitterly. “Just eight days ago our convention voted down secession but the people may have their way yet. You should see the city. Practically all business has been suspended and the streets are full of knots of people talking of nothing but Sumter. No,” he said, shaking his head, “I had hopes this madness would spend itself out in angry words and futile actions of defiance, but the spark has finally reached the keg of dynamite. The whole thing has blown up. Our whole country is full of one dynamite keg after another. Now that one has blown...” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Now that one has blown it won’t end until all of them have exploded and burned out. We’re in for a long war, Carrie.”

Carrie was holding onto something she had heard Robert and others say.
“Surely the war will not be long,” she protested. “Once the North realizes the South is going to stand and fight, surely they will decide just to let us go. We may be an independent country but all of us can still live in peace!”

Her father stared at her.
“Do you really believe that? Do you think the North is full of soft, yellow-bellied cowards who won’t fight?”

Visions of the vibrant young men she had danced and talked with in Philadelphia filled her mind.
Thoughts of Matthew Justin, his eyes steady and strong, rose to taunt her. The great meeting hall full of people willing to risk everything to help runaway slaves showed her the truth. Carrie settled back with a heavy sigh. “We are indeed in for a long and terrible fight, Father.”

Carrie was finishing up a letter to Aunt Abby when she heard a mighty cry raised in the street outside her window.

“Sumter has fallen!
Sumter has fallen!”

Carrie hurried to the window and looked out.
Even here on Church Hill, the streets were filling as people poured out of their houses in response to the news. She watched silently for a few minutes. In spite of her repulsion at the thought of war, she felt drawn to the excitement exploding in the streets. Her curiosity demanded to know what was happening. “Micah?” She reached for her cloak and hurried to the front door.”

“Yes, Miss Cromwell?”

Carrie turned to look briefly at the tall, stooped butler who had taken charge of her father’s home.
His dark face was set in impassive lines as if he were completely unaware of the chaos reigning in the street just outside the house. She spoke quickly. “If my father returns home, tell him I’ve gone out for a while. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

A brief flicker of concern crossed Micah’s face. “I am to tell him you went alone, Miss Carrie?” he asked carefully.

Carrie smiled. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she responded cheerfully. Then, more firmly, she said, “Tell him what you want. I will be back later.” She opened the door, hurried across the porch, and down the steps. Without even thinking, she joined the flow of people streaming down the hill toward the city. She listened quietly as excited talk flowed around her.

“Maybe now our Governor will quit rolling over to play dead.
Surely our glorious victory will show him the worthiness of the Southern cause!”

“It’s just a matter of time now until the convention votes to secede!”

“I heard Sumter was consumed by flames at the end! Our boys really gave it to those Yankees!”

Carrie stared at the immaculately dressed woman who yelled those words as the mob surged down the crowded streets.
The woman’s face, under her perfectly appointed hat, was flushed with pride and anger, her eyes glowing with an oddly wild light. Carrie suppressed a shudder and hurried on.

Once on Broad Street, the crowded madness continued, but the voices were slightly more balanced.
Jubilant cries that Sumter had fallen were absorbed by knots of citizens wearing worried looks and discussing whether the convention would hold the line for their state. Carrie took slight hope that voices of reason might yet prevail. Try as she might, she could not imagine not being a part of the United States. She stopped long enough to listen to one conversation among a group of serious-faced businessmen.

“The streets are wild
, but there are many more people hiding behind their doors, wondering what will be the outcome of this latest act,” one man observed.

Another man, older than the first, looked worried.
“The whole issue has changed now, I’m afraid. This whole fight used to be about slavery. There were people who didn’t own slaves and didn’t care about slavery enough to secede from the Union. If the cotton states want it so badly, let them go.”

Another man interrupted.
“You’re right. Now the issue has changed. The question has become whether states have the right to secede or not. Does the Government have the right to force them to stay in the Union? If we really do have a war, there is no way I am going to fight against my sister states of the South!”

Carrie watched closely as the faces lost their worried looks and adopted dark scowls that spoke louder than any words.
Suddenly, a mighty surge of people captured her attention. Knocked off balance by a large woman bustling by, Carrie grabbed onto a lamppost and craned her neck, slightly frightened, to see where they were going. The mob grew larger as it swept down the street. Once again, curiosity compelled her to follow.

Twenty minutes later
, the mob, now thousands of citizens, converged on the Tredegar Iron Works. The sun sparkled brightly on the waters of the James River as the crowd of people surrounded the building and began their earlier chant. “Sumter has fallen! Sumter has fallen!” As Carrie watched, the Stars and Bars of the Confederate States was raised above the Iron Works to the accompaniment of cannon fire and the
Marseillaise
. As soon as the flag fluttered above the inflamed crowd, a mighty roar of approval rose to meet it. When the shouting finally died down, the speeches began.

Carrie wanted to run away from the raw display of emotion, but somehow it held her.
She would never agree to this war—never agree to fight to maintain a way of life she no longer believed in. But these were her people. Her friends and neighbors. Fellow Virginians who were suddenly willing to fight a war over something most of them had no part in. She was both appalled and intrigued.

“Virginia will secede!
The Yankee tyranny is over!”