Through the Storm (38 page)

He nodded. “A good size, yes. But after the war began, the Rebs converted it into a warship and armed it with a thirty-two pound cannon, a twenty-four howitzer, and numerous smaller armaments.”

Juliana whistled.

Smalls grinned, then continued. “The only White men aboard were the captain and the two mates. Everybody else was Black, including the engineer, my brother John.”

Sable sat enthralled as he’d told how he’d planned his escape for a night when the three White men would be sleeping ashore. “The opportunity came on May 12,
1862. There were sixteen of us, including my wife and three children and my brother’s wife and child.”

At three in the morning they fired up the boilers and very casually set out to sea, flying the Confederate flag.

Smalls had planned his escape very carefully. He’d even acquired a large straw hat similar to the one the captain wore. His plan depended upon the Confederate forces in the harbor assuming the
Planter
had simply started the day early. They did. He passed each Confederate post by giving the proper salute with his whistle and was waved on. His ultimate destination lay with the Union fleet barricading the harbor. As the
Planter
approached the last hurdle, Fort Sumter, he donned the large straw hat and the captain’s arms-crossed stance. The
Planter
gave the signal with the steam whistle, three shrill notes and a hiss, then waited. A tense moment later, they heard the last Confederate sentry sing out, “Pass the
Planter
, flagship for General Ripley.” The sentry, thinking the boat was headed out to duel with the Union fleet, added as they sailed on, “Blow the damned Yankees to hell, and bring one of them in.”

Once the
Planter
sailed out of the reach of the Confederate guns, Smalls and his men took down the Confederate flag and ran up a white bedsheet.

The Union fleet almost fired on them as they approached, but upon seeing the flag of truce, they held off.

“The navy officers were stunned to find only Blacks aboard, so I told them I thought the
Planter
might be of use to Uncle Abe. They made me a pilot on the spot, and later the
Planter’s
captain.”

By the end of the story, a few others in the house had gathered around to listen. One of them asked, “Mr. Smalls, what would you have done had something gone awry during the running of the blockade?”

“I would have scuttled the ship,” he said seriously. “And had it not sunk fast enough, we were prepared to link hands and jump to a watery grave.”

While the convention was in session, Sable saw Raimond only late at night. She would awaken to sounds of him moving quietly around the bedroom undressing after a long day, then she would smile and sigh pleasurably as his warm body slid beside her beneath the sheets. Life had been so hectic of late, she had yet to tell him of the child that was growing in her womb. She made a mental note to let him know as soon as the convention ended and they had some time alone.

On the last morning of the convention, Hazel came into the kitchen and stood watching Sable frost a cake meant for that night’s supper. Looking up, Sable asked, “Do you want something, Hazel?”

Sable continued her task while waiting for an answer, and when it did not come, she looked up again, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Across the kitchen, Mrs. Vine, working dough for the evening’s bread, paused too upon seeing the serious set of the young girl’s face.

Hazel said, “Cullen’s gonna whip me if I tell.”

“Tell what?” Sable asked.

She waited. The children hadn’t been in her care for very long, but already she knew they each had distinct personalities. Cullen was moody and proud; Blythe, who appeared to be absolutely fearless, was a typical ten-year-old, with an active imagination and scores of questions. Hazel, on the other hand, seemed to be caught between wanting to appear grown-up and wise like her twin brother, and wanting to remain as silly and carefree as a child.

It was the wise, Cullen-like Hazel who was facing Sable at this moment. “Hazel, what are you trying
not
to tell me?”

“He’s going to be real mad, but I’m worried about him coming to harm. He’s been sneaking out at night.”

“Sneaking out to where?”

Hazel shrugged. “Blythe and I don’t know and he
won’t tell us. He made us promise not to tell you, but…”

Sable placed a comforting arm around Hazel’s shoulder and said softly, “It’s all right, darling. You’re worried about your brother, I understand. I told on my brother Rhine a few times too, and yes, he was mad. But he played with me again in a few days. So how often has Cullen been slipping out?”

“Since we came to live here. He even snuck out of Grandma Juliana’s house the night of the ball.”

Sable’s eye’s widened. “How?”

“He lashed together all the sheets and went out the window.”

Sable stared amazed. Whatever was this manchild up to? “And you’ve no idea where he goes?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Hazel. Please don’t say anything to Cullen for now.”

Hazel still didn’t appear comfortable with her decision to reveal her brother’s secret, but she nodded and departed for school.

Mrs. Vine turned to Sable. “What are you going to do?”

“What any mother would do. Find out what he’s up to.”

Raimond came home late that night, dragging tired and wanting nothing more than a night of uninterrupted sleep next to Sable’s warm curves. But when he entered the bedroom, and found his wife not only awake but dressed in men’s clothes, he sensed sleep would not come soon that night. “And you are dressed for what occasion?” he asked.

“Hazel says Cullen’s been sneaking out at night.”

Raimond’s fatigue vanished instantly. “What?”

Sable told him the story. When she finished, an astounded Raimond asked, “And she has no clue where he goes?”

“Not a one.”

Raimond found this hard to believe. “So why are you wearing those clothes?”

“Because if he leaves tonight, I plan to follow him and discover what he’s doing.”

Raimond shook his head firmly with denial. “No, you’re not. The roads are too dangerous at night.”

He knew as well as she of the reported crimes being perpetrated against people of color by roving gangs of White thugs.

“Then I suggest you come along as my protection, Sir Knight, because I’m going with or without you.”

He didn’t have to study her determined face for long to realize that this was not an argument he could win. “Okay. We’ll both go. Just let me slap some water on my face.”

They took up a vigil in the shrubbery below Cullen’s window. It offered them an unimpeded view of his room and enough cover to remain hidden from sight.

Raimond knew this was supposed to be a serious endeavor, but he kept being distracted by the way Sable’s trousers accentuated the sweet curve of her behind. The unconventional attire, unearthed from one of Juliana’s trunks, had once belonged to Phillipe. As Sable explained to Raimond, she’d decided that dressing like a man would not only disguise her gender but also give her a freedom of movement not available to her in skirts. He believed her thinking sound, but considering the way the fabric hugged her hips, she didn’t look like any man he’d ever seen.

The sound of Cullen’s window being slowly opened drew his attention back to the matter at hand. While Sable and Raimond watched tensely, a long rope of lashed-together sheets was tossed out to aid Cullen’s descent. It dangled against the house, eerily illuminated by the moon. Two big carpetbags were tossed out next; they hit the ground beneath the window with dull thuds. They then watched Cullen shimmy down the sheets. Once on his feet, he spent a moment glancing around the grounds,
as if making sure it was safe to proceed, then picked up the heavy carpetbags.

Raimond stood up and said, “Good evening, Cullen.”

The boy seemed to jump six feet in the air.

Sable stood up too.

Upon seeing them, Cullen’s chin tightened.

Sable asked, “Will you explain what you’re doing?”

For a moment he didn’t reply. When he finally spoke it was only to say, “I must go.”

He picked up the bags and took two steps but Raimond, not raising his voice, said, “Put the bags down, son.”

Cullen halted in his tracks. He looked over at Raimond, then slowly eased the bags to the ground at his feet.

“Thank you. Now, Sable asked you a question, and I’d like you to answer her, please.”

“I can’t, because if I do you will forbid me to go.”

“Well,” Sable said, “it’s for certain you won’t be going if you don’t tell me, so give us a chance, Cullen. We may surprise you.”

He seemed to consider her words as he held first her eyes and then Raimond’s. Finally he said, “Then come with me and I’ll show you.”

Cullen suggested Raimond drive the carriage because of the distance they would be traveling. So while Cullen and Raimond went around to hitch up the horses, Sable hurried upstairs to wake Mrs. Vine and inform her of the goings-on. She promised to keep an eye on the still sleeping girls, and Sable rushed back out to join the men.

Following Cullen’s directions, Raimond drove them down to the New Orleans waterfront and into a rundown area of the warehouse district. Abandoned and damaged ships littered the shoreline, interspersed with the shanties and lean-tos of the homeless of all races. This was a highly dangerous area during the day, and according to newspaper reports, deadly at night. Sable found it incredible that Cullen claimed to have walked
all this way each night alone. More importantly, what could be here to so powerfully attract a twelve-year-old boy?

Per Cullen’s instructions, they stopped near one of the derelict ships, and Raimond set the carriage brake. It was so quiet, water could be heard lapping at the shore.

As they all got out, Raimond said, “Cullen, I hope this won’t take long. An unguarded carriage will be a target for thieves.”

Cullen said, “Don’t worry. Pee Wee will watch the carriage.”

Before either parent could ask who Pee-Wee was, Cullen placed his fingers to his lips and sent out a shrill whistle. A small, ragged child melted out of the shadows and appeared at Cullen’s side. “Hello, Cullen.”

“Hello, Pee Wee. This is Raimond LeVeq and his lady Sable.”

Pee Wee looked to be around Blythe’s age. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“Pee Wee will watch over the carriage if you will give him a coin when we’re done.”

“Agreed,” Raimond pledged.

They followed Cullen aboard a listing ship, then down below deck. Carrying the carpetbags, he moved confidently through the rotting vessel, while Sable and Raimond, trailing behind, stumbled and faltered over the dark, unfamiliar terrain.

Cullen pushed open a door and went inside. They followed.

A stub of a candle lit the interior of what had once been a small stateroom. It took a moment for Sable’s sight to adjust to the dimness, but once it did, she found herself staring into the wary eyes of more than a dozen huddled children. There were about fifteen of them of varying ages, sizes, and shades, spread out in small groups.

Cullen said softly, “Everybody, these are my new folks.”

No one replied.

Sable could now smell the foulness of the children’s unwashed bodies. She had to assume they had been hiding here for some time. Just imagining their loneliness and what they were forced to do to survive from one day to the next made her want to take them all home.

Cullen bent to his carpetbags and began to withdraw food from them. There were portions of hens wrapped in linen napkins, bread, ears of corn, and three peaches—food he must have taken from the kitchen at home. He didn’t have nearly enough to feed them all, but the big ones shared with the little ones, and soon each child had something to eat.

Sable knew she should be used to seeing such scenes, but knowing that children like these faced lives of hunger and hopelessness always tugged at her heart. Raimond must have sensed her mood because he came over and put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight.

Cullen explained, “I come each night because they have no one else.”

Sable wanted to kiss him for his caring and courage but knew he wouldn’t stand still for such a display.

Raimond looked down at this young boy he had claimed as son and felt his heart swell with pride. “I am very proud of you, Cullen.”

Cullen’s chin rose. “Thank you, sir.”

Sable had no intention of leaving the children here in the dark, dank ship while she went back to her comfortable home, so she told Cullen, “They’re coming home with us.”

Cullen stared. “All of them?”

Raimond agreed. “All of them.”

Sable took his hand and squeezed it, her eyes shining with love. He understood.

Their carriage wasn’t large enough to carry all the children on the hour’s drive back to the house, so Sable and Raimond piled in as many of the little ones as it
would hold. The others were forced to walk, Cullen included, but he assured his parents that the older ones did not mind.

Raimond kept the pace slow to accommodate the walkers, giving Sable plenty of time to consider what she would do with the children once they were clean, fed, and rested. Her husband’s family was fairly well off, but not even they could afford to clothe and feed fifteen youngsters. The established orphanages were already seriously overcrowded. She could send some of the children to orphanages elsewhere, but knew she’d spend a lot of time wondering if they were being treated fairly.

Maybe she could open her own temporary orphanage. Juliana and Henri knew lots of people. Perhaps they could direct her to families who would want to call the children their own. Hester would probably assist her in a quest for good homes in Michigan and Ontario, as would Bridget and Reverend Day up in Boston. If she could find a building to house them in while she made arrangements, and secure funds to pay for a small staff, she didn’t see why she couldn’t turn her idea into reality.

She looked past the small, dirty child asleep on her lap to her husband guiding the reins. He was a very special man, indeed. She knew few individuals who would open their hearts and homes this way, but he had, and she loved him more each day.