A Deeper Sense of Loyalty (5 page)

So the population waited for the opening guns. To the surprise of most people, a month passed in relative quiet. Finally, Jefferson Davis ordered General P.G.T. Beauregard to shell Fort Sumter until the fort surrendered. At four-thirty on the morning of April 12
th
, South Carolina fired the first shot of the war. After a thirty-four hour bombardment, at two-thirty in the afternoon of April 13
th
, Major Robert Andersen surrendered Fort Sumter. With the beginning of hostilities past, it was decided that James would leave for South Carolina on April 15
th
.

 

One week earlier, James had made an excuse to be out of the office for the day. He used that time to take his first step towards the secret life he intended to lead. He rode to the small town of Dry Branch to rent a house. Even though the town was not more than forty miles from home, James and his family were not known there. As an added precaution, he rented the house in the name of William Mason.

The house would serve as a base of operations; a quiet place where he could rest between trips to the North; a place to keep extra clothing as well as other necessities.

After some careful thought, James realized that his pretense of joining Hampton's legion could not last for long. Writing letters to his family would not pose a problem. A cavalry unit would move around quite a bit but since he
would
be traveling to accomplish his true mission, he could mail his letters from areas where Hampton's unit might likely be. But receiving letters would be a different matter. James could not have his family sending him mail to a unit he did not belong to. It would also be necessary for him to have a Confederate trooper's uniform to wear when, ostensibly, he visited home on furlough. So he formulated a new plan that would simplify the situation.

 James decided that he would write a letter to his family explaining that on his way to join up with Hampton, he had chanced to meet and converse with an operative of the Confederate Signal Service. He would explain that so fascinating was the conversation, so alluring was the challenge—and since he had not as yet made a commitment—he volunteered his services.

He knew if his father believed he was working as a spy for the government he would be more proud than if James became a general in the cavalry. He would mail his letter from South Carolina on his first trip north. James was very pleased with his idea and about how well it would cover his activities. His true endeavors had to be kept secret and his fictitious new vocation would give him the perfect cover. He would not be required to wear a uniform, his family would understand why he could not divulge details about his work, and since a secret agent should be a loner, a very obscure person, even receiving correspondence could be dangerous. Instead, he would promise to write occasionally and get home as often as possible—a promise he intended to keep.

James passed April 14
th
by preparing to leave the following morning. But the feeling was not what it might have been. He could imagine what was going through the minds of other Southern boys as they were getting ready to leave home. He thought they were enjoying a sense of pride; a determination to do great things for their families and their country. In the Langdon home, James's mother, his sisters, and certainly his father, treated him more special than usual because they believed that he was already a hero. Even though he felt like nothing of the sort, he had no choice but to go along with their perception.

But that night, alone in his room, lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, he tried to ease his conscience by searching for the merit in what he was about to do. Maybe once he had actually helped even one slave gain his freedom he would feel better about himself. He tried to picture the scene: the expression on the faces of people taken from a life of misery, delivered into a world without slavery. Their joy would be a handsome reward.

The following morning he was awake before dawn. The house was still quiet and ordinarily it was the perfect moment to stretch a few dozen times before rising. But James was restless; the same as the night he'd just passed. He dressed quickly and went downstairs. Instead of heading to the kitchen to see if Olivia was preparing breakfast, he went out to the veranda and sat down on the swing. There was not time to get comfortable before his father came out to join him. James looked up and said, “Just wanted a last look at the sun coming up over the trees. It could be a while before I see it again.”

“But you will see it again,” his father replied. “This war will not last long. You'll see. But regardless, you keep safe. Above all else, you keep safe.”

“I will, Father. You take care of yourself and keep Mother's spirits up; Ashton's and Kate's, too.”

“We'll be fine, James, as long as we hear from you regularly.”

“Are there any foreseeable problems concerning the plantation?”

“No. Not for now at least. Thomas and Sam went into Macon to join the army but they were sent home because the quota for this district has already been filled. Milo is originally from South Carolina so he left for Charleston to join up there if he can. But I found another man to take his place so you need not worry about anything here. When this foolishness is over we can get on with our lives under a new government . . . a Southern one.

The front door opened and Ashton appeared looking as if she was still half asleep. “Please come in for breakfast,” she said.

“Come on, son. Let's eat and get you on your way. You have a long ride ahead of you.” Then he winked at James and said, “The sooner we have a Langdon in the ranks, the sooner we'll have those Yanks running for cover.”

Breakfast was eaten in complete silence. James knew that his mother was trying hard to hide her anxiety, but it was apparent in spite of her efforts. When breakfast was over and he was ready to leave, her tears became unstoppable.

The entire household, including all of the hired help, lined up on the lawn to bid him goodbye and good luck. Darcy Davis shook his hand and said, “Keep your wits about you, James. It shouldn't be too hard to run those Yankees back to where they came from. If you should run into that boy of mine, say hello for me.” Darcy's son, Tyler, had left a week earlier to join the 1
st
Georgia Infantry Regiment.

Then James accepted hugs from all the women of the house: Olivia, Millie, and Lucy, who added a kiss on his cheek. Even cantankerous old Martha MacGruder managed a smile, but instead of a hug she extended her hand and said, “Take the luck o' the Irish with you, boy. It's never failed a living soul.” James shook her hand and thanked her.

Then it was his family's turn to say farewell. He hugged his sisters in turn, kissed them, and then turned his attention to his mother. It was difficult to see the painful expression on her face when she said, “I believe in you, James, you know that. Stay in touch with God and with your family, in that order, and remember how much you're loved.” James hugged her a little tighter than usual, kissed a tear from her cheek, and told her to remember the same.

Lastly, he stood before his father. Somehow, it turned out to be the most difficult goodbye. Surely it was because his father trusted him, and he was about to betray that trust. James might have equaled his father by height, but at that moment he felt very small. But he knew that he had to be true to his inner self so he stood up straight, shook his father's hand firmly, and said goodbye.

George Lynch stood by holding Star by her bridle. As James prepared to mount his horse, George slapped him on the back and said, “Give ‘em hell, boy.”

James nodded and climbed into the saddle. With one last look, and a prayer that he would see them all again, he turned Star toward the main road and headed for Dry Branch.

 

FOUR

 

The Beginning

 

 

After putting a few miles behind him, James began to feel a little less depressed. He already made a promise to himself that he would make no attempts to take any slaves from his father or from his uncles. It seemed important somehow to draw a line with his actions to spare his family any trouble he could. Of course, James was sure that if his father knew the truth, freeing Langdon slaves would be the least painful part of it all. Besides, there were many plantations in the South owning thousands of slaves, and it was certain that he could not free them all.

It was his intention to start small; probably no more than two or three on the first trip. He hoped that experience would allow him to guide larger numbers in the future.

The first place he intended to strike was Live Oak Plantation. James had played there several times as a boy when his family attended picnics, so he was familiar with the layout. He even had in mind the best way to approach the slave quarters, which in reverse would be the best way to take the slaves out.

When James reached Dry Branch he stopped at the house he had rented and went inside. Sitting at the kitchen table, he spread out the map he would use to plan his route north. He had traveled back and forth to New York for four years while he was going to school, but that had been by train. This would be much different. He believed that to be sure his purpose was accomplished he would have to deliver his runaways to Canada. There was no slavery above the Mason and Dixon's Line but there was also no guarantee that slaves would be free once they crossed it. James had read that there were slave catchers operating as far north as Boston, Massachusetts. The only way to be sure was to get the runaways to Canada.

So he mapped out a route that would end in Erie, Pennsylvania. From there he could hire a boat and cross Lake Erie to Ontario. James studied his map in order to commit his route to memory. He thought it best to keep the map concealed as much as possible. He made no marks on the map so that it would in no way implicate him if it were found in his possession. This, he thought, would at least serve as a beginning. After completing his study there were a few more things to attend to. The first was to find a place in the house where he could hide some money.

When James was born, a bank account was opened in his name. Over the years, his parents had made deposits for various reasons. Reaching the age of eighteen had transferred authority over the account to James, giving him access to nearly six thousand dollars. A week earlier he had drawn twenty-five hundred from the account to take with him when he left home. Now he needed to hide a large part of it. He was not foolish enough to carry that amount of money on his person.

After a thorough search of the stone foundation wall in the cellar, he discovered a sizable stone that was loose and easy to remove. After placing twenty-two hundred and fifty dollars in a sturdy leather pouch, he put the pouch at the back of the cavity and replaced the stone. By this time the hour had reached noon and James was hungry.

Dry Branch was a small town; one street with houses and places of business lining each side for maybe a quarter of a mile. Still, it seemed to have most of what was necessary: a hotel, sheriff's office, doctor's office, livery stable, two small taverns, and a dry goods store. In addition, there was a bank and a barber shop. James walked down the boardwalk to the nearest tavern; a well-kept place called Baxter's. The bartender extended a friendly greeting as James walked through the door.

“What'll you have, sir?” he asked.

“A meal and a beer would do fine,” James replied.

“Today I got some beef stew and I got some fresh baked bread. If you like catfish I got that, too.”

“Stew and bread sounds good,” said James.

“Sit yourself at a table and Polly will bring it over to you.”

James took a table in the front corner and hung his wide brimmed slouch hat on an empty chair. There were a few other patrons, most of whom were eating or talking, paying little or no attention to the young stranger.

After just a few minutes, a young girl came through the doorway behind the bar carrying a tray loaded with a glass of beer, a large steaming bowl of stew, and a plate of bread. She smiled as she approached. She put the tray on the table then set the meal and the drink in front of him. From an apron pocket she took a fork, knife, and a spoon, handed them to James, and asked if there was anything else she could get for him. “No, miss. But could you tell me if there is a place in town where I could rent a horse and wagon?” Instantly he thought the question sounded stupid because he already knew that there was such a place just down the street. But it just popped out and he realized it was an attempt to keep her at the table a little longer.

In Polly, James saw a lovely girl about his age, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a captivating smile. Her dark green cotton dress covered a slight but shapely figure and it was all James could do to remember who he was and why he was in Dry Branch. When she told him that the livery would rent a horse and wagon and gave him the location, he said, “What . . . oh, yes. Thank you.”

“I take it that you are new in Dry Branch,” she said.

He did not enjoy the idea of lying to such a lovely girl, but he knew that with so much to hide lying would have to become a practical talent. “Yes, I am,” he replied. “I grew up in an orphanage in Atlanta and I wanted to put the city and the orphanage behind me.”

Her face took on a sympathetic expression and she said, “I am sorry to hear that, Mister . . .”

“Mason. William Mason.”

“Mr. Mason. What happened to your folks?”

“Well I only know what I was told, but it isn't something I like to talk about.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Mason. I didn't mean to pry.”

“I don't mind. And please, call me William.”

“Very well, William. My name is Polly.”

“Yes, I know. I mean, the bartender mentioned it. I'm happy to make your acquaintance. Are you from Dry Branch?”

“Yes, I am. It isn't much of a place to be from, but I've lived here all of my life. I live with my mother in the last house down the street on the right,” and she motioned with her hand, indicating the same side of the street as the tavern. “I work here to support us. My mother is in poor health.”