Echoes of Dark and Light (44 page)

“So, let me get this straight,” the gray-uniformed officer pegged us with his bespectacled eyes. “You want permission to ride the train over to Belle Isle Prison, and then roam around looking for your cousin to share a picnic basket?”

I swallowed the annoyance rising up my throat like bile, forced the sweetest, most innocent smile I could muster, and responded in my best southern accent. “If you put it that way, General—”

“I’m a captain, miss.”

“Oh, well pardon me; I could have sworn a gentleman as distinguished as yourself to be riding the top notches. But as I was saying, I had hoped you would accompany us in hopes of sharing this basket of food and blankets with my northern cousin. My poor mother is so worried for her sister. See, Auntie Annabelle married a Yank near on twenty years ago, and moved north. So her son, my cousin, grew up a Yank as well, poor fellow, and of course when the time came, he donned a blue uniform just like his papa. Now my cousin’s been captured by our brave Confederate soldiers, and my Auntie was told he’s been placed here. Just because my cousin is a Yank, doesn’t mean he’s not still kin.” I batted my eyelashes at the captain, like I’d seen the prostitutes do in our camp. I felt utterly ridiculous.

“I see,” he replied, studying me. “And who’s this fellow again?” He nodded towards Toby standing silently behind me.

“Oh, that’s just George, our farm hand. George is simple-minded; couldn’t think his way out of a feed sack, but he sure knows how to use his fists when it comes to defending me.” I leaned in close to the captain to whisper, “I think George has a little crush on me, you see.”

I dared not even think of glancing at Toby as he mumbled “Good to meet ya, sir.”

“Now, Mr. Captain, I am in a hurry to get back home to my newly war-widowed mama. My papa died valiantly in the Battle of the Crater.”

“My condolences, miss. Your father’s selfless sacrifice for the Confederacy is greatly appreciated. And I don’t suppose it would hurt to get the supplies to your cousin. If you just leave them here, I’ll make sure they get delivered. And your cousin’s name?”

I almost leapt out of my seat, but managed to grab onto the hard edge at the last second. “Oh, no, Mr. Captain, I must personally hand over the supplies. My Auntie is expecting a full account of his condition, plus a message for me to mail home, something only he and she would know so that she’s positive he received the goods. Besides, you wouldn’t know who my cousin is; the basket might go to the wrong man. And though I’m all in favor of helping kin, I don’t want Mama’s homemade biscuits to go to any old foolish Yank. So you see, I’ll have to go to the prison and give it to my cousin personally.”

The captain sighed impatiently. “You do know that Belle Isle Prison is no place for a proper lady like yourself.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

“There is disease and sickness and filth—”

“I’m no innocent when it comes to war, Mr. Captain; I volunteered back home to roll bandages and knit woolen socks for our boys. Besides, I’ll have you to protect me.”

The captain sighed again, but began rustling through some papers. “Your cousin’s name, miss?”

“Robert Rivers.”

Toby and I had decided to use Robert’s name, since it would be easier to find him with some help. I knew if Robert were his usual self, he’d be quick-witted enough to play along; he’d know something brewed strange if his sister showed up in a dress. As for how to get Robert out…well, we’d decided to worry about that later. In reality, neither of us had a clue on how to get him out, and we decided to rely on instinct when the time arrived.

“Ah, yes, we do have a Robert Rivers listed on the prison roster. Very well, you and your hired hand may have permission to go across. In fact, I’ll accompany you myself. But we best hurry; the last train comes through in about five minutes.”

I risked a second of eye contact with Toby before he dropped his empty gaze back to the grungy floor of the rocking train. Buoyed up with renewed courage from his warm eyes, I peered through the train’s soot-encrusted window at the track curving around to cross the James River. Prickling excitement crawled through my veins at the same time as a sickening puddle of fear pooled in the pit of my stomach.
We’ve found my brother, zeroing in closer every second, attempting to break him out of an armed prison, isolated on an island, without an escape plan! It didn’t get much better than this!

I had to keep reminding myself of our orders, to make mental notes of every detail. I decided to play the part of curious tourist to learn everything I could.

“So, Mr. Captain, did our army install this bridge over the James to transport the prisoners?”

“Oh, no, miss, the island is host to a nail factory, built before the war began. And then the Confederacy used the island as a training site before it became a prison. The rails connect the factory with Manchester, and the Confederacy just lucked out with the arrangements. We do transport the prisoners by rail, but our guards also commute to their posts via the train as well.”

“Is the train the only connection to the outside then?”

The captain nodded. “We have the one rail bridge to the island, but sometimes boats are used as well.”

“That must make the opportunities of escape very slim.”

He nodded. “We’ve only had a few even attempt it, but of course they failed.” The captain’s eyes gleamed with pride. “About six acres are enclosed on the southeast end of the island by an embankment and ditch arrangement. We have two gates, one on the northeast side and one on the southeast. The gates are opened during the day to allow the prisoners access to the river for latrine, bathing and drinking—”

“All three?” I gasped, not feigning my horror. “In the same spot?”

“Oh,” he chuckled. “We’re not monsters, miss. We have the river sectioned off, the top section up river for drinking, mid section for bathing, and bottom, down river for the latrine. The gates used to be open all of the time, but then a few fools tried to swim for freedom. Now we close the gates at night.”

“And what if a prisoner needs a drink or, uh, something else, in the middle of the night?”

“He just has to wait, or find a friendly tree. We are a prison, miss, not a fancy hotel. But then, I really shouldn’t be discussing latrine habits with a lady. I’m sure your mother wouldn’t approve.”

I tried to force myself to blush over the mention of latrines, but I’d just had too many intimate relationships with them over the past months, mainly digging them, to even spark a spot of color in my cheeks, so I ducked my head with a nervous giggle instead
. I don’t think I’ve giggled before in my entire life.
I quickly changed the subject.

“You said a few tried to swim for freedom. What happened?”

He shook his head in pity. “Two drowned in the swift currents, and the third caught a musket ball mid swim.”

“Didn’t anyone try to escape across the bridge?”

“Oh, no. It is well guarded, twenty-four hours a day, and lit up with lanterns at night. And every boat arriving and departing is well monitored. The system is rather ingenious.”

“How many men are imprisoned here?”

“There are tents enough for three thousand men, yet right now, their numbers are topped to about six thousand. All supervised by only three hundred guards on duty at one time. These Yanks aren’t as tough as they pretend to be. Ah, here we are at the factory. We’ll walk to the encampment from here.”

Our chances of escaping alive appeared slim indeed. But then, Belle Island had never met Bobbi Rivers before today.

The captain helped me down the train steps, with me clinging to his proffered hand very convincingly, if I do say so myself. We walked the acre or so to the southeast gate with Toby trailing behind carrying the basket. About halfway there, the wind shifted, blowing into our faces a stench so foul and offensive, I grasped my lace handkerchief to my face.

“I must apologize, miss, but these Yanks can be a rather raunchy lot. Are you positive you want to continue?”

I nodded my head, too afraid to open my mouth for fear of what I might taste. I don’t know if the dampness in my eyes came from the stench or the thought of what Robert endured. Unfortunately, I quickly learned how much worse it got.

The captain nodded to the guards, and we slipped inside the compound. The unbelievable scenes my eyes sent to my brain horrified me in ways I didn’t know possibly existed. Creatures, presumably men, hunkered down in various states of almost complete undress. Filth-encrusted, pale skin stretched gauntly over sharp bones. Greasy hair hung in tangles, visible sores oozed pus, and lice crawled over every inch available. Human waste lay scattered along the walkways in between the tents, and off to the side, a man lay naked and face down in the dirt.

“Is, uh, is that man dead?” I whispered, my voice having temporarily abandoned me.

The captain nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so. I apologize for you having to see all of this, but really, what can you expect from those northern savages.”

“I thought—” I stopped to clear my throat. “I thought the Yanks sent supplies for their men imprisoned here. But half don’t even have shoes.”

“Yes, the Yankees do send supplies occasionally, but with our own army’s needs so great right now, we really do have to take care of our own first. I’m sure the supplies we send to our own men imprisoned are being confiscated as well. Such is war. Do you recognize your cousin yet?”

The prisoners were barely recognizable as human and I had serious doubts I would be able to pick Robert out of the crowd of thousands. For the first time since I learned of Robert’s location, my hope began to slip.

The captain led me around the encampment as if on a sick sort of tourist attraction, pointing out the offices, the food prep buildings, the hospital and the cemetery which hosted about one thousand headstones. Throughout the tour, I forced my eyes to search each and every face. Some looked back with a small spark of interest, others stared off into nothingness. I longed to turn away, to run, to erase this human caused inhumanity out of my memory; more than anything, I longed to rescue each and every suffering person. But that I couldn’t do. Maybe, if we tried so very hard, used our brains and abilities, and didn’t make too many mistakes, we might be able to save one. If only we could find that one. I glanced back at Toby who kept close to my heels, and caught his eye. He looked as worried as I felt. I hurried to catch up with the captain.

A shrill whistle pierced the air, followed by a few rude remarks, all aimed at me. Flabbergasted from the new experience, shock caught any potentially dangerous rebuttals in my throat.

“You watch your mouth, Yank!” the captain ordered, storming over to the prisoners sitting in the meager shade of a tent. “You will treat our southern women with respect and dignity. Do you understand?” He aimed a few kicks to emphasize his threats.

Up ahead, near the northeast gate, guards had the prisoners forming up in lines.

“Mr. Captain,” I called, “what are those men doing?”

The captain doffed a load of sand in the prisoners’ direction before turning back to me.

“Over there,” I said, pointing.

“The guards are starting a count, keeping track of the prisoner numbers. Let’s head over there where you can see most everyone. If your cousin isn’t there, then it’s either the hospital or the cemetery.”

A cold fist of ice clenched tight around my heart, but I forced my legs to follow him.
Please God, not the cemetery…

I slowly made my way up the line of prisoners, barely able to blink away the tears fast enough to get a clear view of each face, each dirty, scrawny, hopeless face. Such senseless suffering… As I neared the end of the line with no luck, my heart began pounding so loud I could hardly hear the captain shouting orders to stand up straight, stare straight ahead and keep mouths shut. My mind began repeating over and over in a hopeless drone,
he’s not here, he’s not here…
Then shock! My heart skidded to a painful halt in disbelief and anger! I came face to face with Robert Rivers…but not the one I’d been looking for.
Pa?

I stopped and stared, frozen beyond words or actions. He still wore his stolen Union uniform, though its condition, and his, had deteriorated considerable.

“Who you staring at, girly?” he grunted.

I didn’t answer him, I couldn’t. The rage smoldering deep in my gut ignited, flames seeped up, burning my throat.

“You look kinda familiar,” Pa grumbled with nauseating breath. “Do I know you?”

The captain noticed the delay and backtracked to stand next to me. “There a problem here?”

“Heck, I do know you! You’re one of my brats… name’s Roberta.”

The captain slowly turned to me. “I thought you said your name was Sally.”

“Naw,” Pa corrected him. “I named her after me.”

The captain narrowed his eyes at me and spoke slowly. “Your father is a Yankee?”

“Heck yes I am, and so’s she!”

Before I could react, too stunned to utter a protest, a volley of pistols raised to aim at my heart. Every guard in the area had me at gunpoint. I looked behind me for Toby, but he had disappeared. Toby, too, had abandoned me.