The Titans (18 page)

midnight. An hour ago he'd filed another dispatch about the arrival of the troops. "commost of them were boys. And they were scared. Scared and worn out. But there was a kind of excitement in the air, too. Expecially when they got back into formation outside the depot It's the sort of feeling I've read about injhe New York papers. People are-was He struggled to phrase it. "comon fire. The whole North's on fire. Because someone dared to shoot at the flag." "Americans have gone to war for the same reason before," Molly said. "Not against each other. I tell you, it scares hell out of me." Molly's skirts rustled as she moved closer to him. "What scares me is the idea of your going to Baltimore in the morning." "Well, I am going. First train-was He pulled off one boot, then the other. "comseven o'clock sharp." She started to object. "Molly, I told you what happened with the Lee material. I couldn't use it." "Name me one other newsman with scruples like The Titans251 that! Are you trying to be a saint or a reporter?" She stroked his forehead, smiling sadly. "I know the answer. A little of both." "Don't pin any decorations on me. From a job standpoint, what I did was stupid. But I just couldn't ignore Lee's request. He's the kind of man who still believes the word honor means something. He may be old- fashioned, but there are damned few like him any more. At least in these times. Still, I owe Theo Payne a good piece of copy. Lamont's letter corroborated what the soldiers said about tomorrow." "I'd be curious to see that letter from Mr. Lamont." "It got lost at the office. He gave me the information because he didn't know any other way to thank me. I think he was sincere." She still looked concerned. He took hold of her shoulders: "Stop fretting. Baltimore's only an hour and twenty- five minutes by train. I'll be back before supper." "I still wish you wouldn't-was "I have to go where the stories are, Molly. Tomorrow could bring the first casualties of-was She jerked aweaay. "You sound like a ghoul." Softly: "I'm sorry. But I do owe Payne." "Hang Payne! It's you I care about. This is a war- you'll admit that much, won't you?" He pressed his palms against his temples. Thought of Gideon- "Yes, it's a war. All we can do now is hope it won't last long. Can we go to bed? I'm worn out." A short while later, when he thought she'd fallen asleep, he turned onto his side. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't relax. He punched at his pillow to rearrange it, then gazed towaid the curtained windows. Instead of an expanse of darkness, he saw the ragged lines of volunteers shuf- 252The Bait fling through the steam and glare at the depot. Instead of the night sounds of the house, he heard the ominous tramp of men marching- "Jephtha?" He started: "I didn't realize you were still awake." "I've been thinking about tomorrow." "What about it?" "I want you to be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you." He slipped his arm under her shoulder, drawing her against him. He kept his voice as light as he could: "I'm not anxious for that either, Mrs. Emerson." "Be serious. I want you to take my gun." "All right, if it'll ease your mind. But I don't think I'll be in any danger. It's the troops who have to worry. No one's interested in killing a hack with a low salary and even lower morals." He kissed her again. "Let's try to get some sleep." CHAPTER IX Bloody Baltimore THE CROWD JAMMED both sides of President Street, watching the passage of the slow- moving railway car. A red-faced woman next to Jephtha flung a stone. The woman's daughter, no more than ten, cupped her hands around her mouth and screeched: "You just wait till old Beauregard gets hold of you!" She too found a rock and threw it. The first stone had landed harmlessly on the tracks of the street railway behind the passenger car, which was being pulled by two lathered horses. The child's rock struck the frame of one of the car windows. The crowd applauded. It was a hostile crowd, spreading for blocks in either direction. Behind the window where the rock had hit, a blue- clad man shook a fist. People who saw raised then fists in return. Jephtha's black suit was unbearably hot. His skin felt gritty from the soot that had accumulated during the early morning ride up to Baltimore's Camden Street station. The loaded Sharps was in his pocket. But he hoped there'd be no need to use the gun. He was here to get a story, and from the mood of the mob, he was sure it would be a grim one. Maryland was an almost perfect example of the country's divided feeling. The state's northern boundary was the Mason and Dixon line. Sentiment in the eastern

254Bloody Baltimore counties was predominantly Southern. The farm folk in the western part of the state tended to side with their Unionist neighbors across the border in Pennsylvania. Baltimore too reflected the division. With a distinctly Southern style of life, it still had extensive commercial ties with the North because it was industrialized. But there appeared to be no Northern sympathizers on President Street today. Perhaps fear had kept them at home. Jephtha pulled off his hat. Wiped his sticky forehead with the back of his hand. Noon had come and gone. The pleasant April weather seemed at odds with the uglv faces all around him. The railway car packed with men of the Sixth Massachusetts crossed the intersection half a block to Jephtha's left. It was the ninth car to make the slow transfer from the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore depot. Jephtha had studied the faces of the soldiers behind the smoke-stained windows of the cars. They were frightened and angry. No wonder. The crowd kept growing; its animosity kept erupting in jeers and curses- Across the street, a man hurled a chunk of brick at the car which was now well out of range. The man's coat flapped open. Jephtha saw a holstered revolver. He began to scrutinize the crowd more closely. He soon spotted other weapons. Sheathed knives. Even a muzzle-loader thrust up defiantly a few yards to his right- The red-faced woman tugged his arm. "Mister you got any idea how many more of those damn blue-coats are waiting at the President Street station?" Jephtha had calculated the approximate number of men each car carried. "I'd guess four or five companies." "We can't get to "em as long as they hide in those cars," the woman complained. A white-bearded man heard her: The Titans255 "They ain't gonna be able to hide much longer." He pointed to the right. "Looky up yonder." People strained forward to see: "What're they doin"?" "What's in those barrels?" Jephtha stood on tiptoe in the cobbled street. Up the block half a dozen men were manhandling casks to the tracks. Applause and shouts came rippling down both sides of the street "It's sand!" "They're dumpin sand on the tracks, God bless "em-was "No more cars can come through. The sojers are gonna have to walk-was "It's about time!" the red-faced woman said to Jephtha. She frowned at his appalled expression. "Or are you on their side?" He was curt: "I'm a newspaperman. I'm not on either side." Huge mounds of sand were now heaped in the middle of President Street. To guarantee the barrier would be effective, half a dozen small sea anchors were thrown on top of the sandpiles. More applause. A man nearby brandished a revolver: "Come on, Yankee! Show your face, I dare you!" The sun broiled the back of Jephtha's neck. As he reached up to loosen his sticky collar, he was startled by the sight of a familiar face on the other side of the street. A pinched face, with eyes narrowed against the glare- The man was standing well back from the curb, screened from time to time by people moving in front of him. Jephtha frowned. What the hell was a War Department clerk doing in Baltimore? Josiah Cheever noticed him. Jephtha nodded. 256Bloody Baltimore Cheever stared but gave no sign of recognition. He turned to speak to a man beside him-a huge fellow with a long beard as red and bushy as his mustache. The man's dirty homespun suit made Jephtha think of a saloon derelict. He had the uneasy feeling Cheever and the red- bearded giant were talking about him. Down the street, a pistol exploded. Someone cried, "Three cheers for Jeff Davis!" The cheers roared out, echoed by the people around him. Women waved handkerchiefs. Men flaunted pistols. Jephtha counted eight guns just in his immediate vicinity. The demonstration momentarily distracted him. When he glanced back across the street, Cheever and the red-bearded man had vanished. For no reason he could explain, his palms turned cold and sweaty. Far to his left, the last car had dwindled to a blur. After a short interval of calm, the people grew restless again. Where were the Yankees? Cowering in the station because the tracks were blocked? Jephtha presumed someone had carried word to the remaining units that no more cars could get through. Ten minutes passed. Ten more. Repeatedly, Jephtha's glance was drawn back to the place where he'd seen Cheever and his unsavory- looking friend. Neither of them reappeared among the elderly men, young matrons, and pink-faced children with angry faces. He was utterly depressed by the sight of Americans waiting with pistols and stones in the hope of hurting other Americans. An uneasy stillness settled. All around him, Jephtha smelled human sweat. A jungle smell. Suddenly heads began to turn in the direction of the President Street station- The Titans257 Jephtha elbowed his way into the street a second time. He shielded his eyes; let out a soft, despairing curse- Several blocks away, he saw men in blue. Sunlight winked on shouldered muskets. The Sixth Massachusetts had decided to march to Camden Station. The first sound he heard was the rhythmic tramping of feet. Then a louder one drowned it out: a prolonged, hostile screaming from hundreds of voices that sounded like one voice; like the bay of an animal- "They're coming through!" the red-faced woman squealed. "Oh, the sons-of-bitches are coming through!" She hugged her little daughter, her eyes moist. Then she shoved the child away: "Find more stones, Sulene! Stones for both of us-was The girl darted away, her face shining with joy. Jephtha closed his eyes and shook his head. The Sixth Massachusetts came on, splitting into two columns to pass around the anchor-topped piles of sand. When the first company was within a block and a half of Jephtha's position, he noticed a man in civilian clothes out in front of the soldiers. The man rushed from one side of the street to the other, pausing to speak and gesture. He bent toward his listeners in an attitude of pleading. Jephtha asked a man on his left who the civilian might be. The man spat a stream of tobacco juice. "'Pears to be Mayor Brown. Looks like he's tryin to hep the sojers get through, the damn turncoat." Jephtha watched the frantic mayor run back to the center of the street ahead of the troops. Brown raised his hands over his head, obviously appealing for re 258Bloody Baltimore straint. The crowd jeered and hissed. The Massachusetts soldiers kept coming, only a block away now. Unexpectedly, Brown's presence seemed to quiet the spectators. Faces of the soldiers became discernible. Young faces, mostly. Sweating. Nervous. But the soldiers maintained their cadence. They were obviously better trained than the Pennsylvanians Jephtha had seen the evening before. Officers watched the crowd and kept their hands close to their sidearms. Suddenly the tobacco-chewer whirled to qjKhort those nearby: "You gonna let that yella Brown protect those Yanks?" "Hell, no!" "Never!" "By Jesus, we aren't!" the red-faced woman cried. She threw her rock, hard. The rock arched high and dropped a few feet from the mayor, who was speaking to onlookers on the street's far side. Brown started when the rock struck the cobbles and skittered toward him. He rushed back to the sun-shimmering rails and thrust his hands in the air again. This time, Jephtha could hear him: "Citizens of Baltimore! I appeal to your decency-was "Who paid you, Mayor?" a man yelled. "Abe the ape?" Groans greeted the mention of the president. Brown saw the weapons in the crowd and grew even more alarmed. Counterpointed by the tramp of the marchers, his voice was shrill: "Please listen to me! Maryland is not a part of the Confederacy! Harassment of Federal soldiers is unlawful and foreign to the hospitable tradition of our city-was Derisive laughter. Stones flew. One struck a corporal in the leading platoon, knocking off his cap. The corporal jerked his rifled musket to his shoulder. Jephtha's fists knotted at his sides. The soldier's ?" The Titans259 weapon appeared to be a late-model .58 caliber that fired the remarkably accurate bullets developed by the French officer, Captain Mhu6. He assumed the weapon was loaded. Sun glared on the barrel as the corporal broke ranks and swung toward the crowd. His captain ran up beside him, grabbed his arm, whispered to him. Scowling, the corporal shouldered his weapon and jogged to catch up with his rank. Across the way, a man howled, "Here's the hospitality we show Yanks!" He hurled a piece of paving block. The block hit an infantryman almost abreast of Jephtha. The soldier stumbled, dropped his musket He had to be helped to his feet by those around him- bringing the column to a halt. Somewhere beyond the soldiers, Brown was practically screaming: "I beg you to return to your homes! I demand you disperse! We'll have police here any minute to enforce-was Profanity and boos blurred the rest More rocks were thrown. The men of the Sixth Massachusetts were forced to stand in the street, dodging the missiles as best they could. The tobacco-chewer next to Jephtha lunged forward. He grabbed a soldier's musket: "I'll show you how to use that thing!" The soldier hung on. "Let go, damn you!" Three more men converged on him. Soon a dozen civilians and soldiers were fighting for possession of weapons. The same sort of melee started at other places down the line. Beyond the struggling men, Jephtha glimpsed Mayor Brown standing motionless, hands at his sides and a sick expression on his face. One of the Massachusetts infantrymen slammed the butt of his musket into the tobacco-chewer's head. The 260Bloody Baltimore old man sprawled, yelling obscenities. He tried to get to his feet but was too stunned. To Jephtha's left, there was a sudden flurry of color. Using both hands, a pretty young woman spread the new Confederate flag he had only heard about The banner had a broad white stripe between two red ones and a blue field in which a circle of six white stars surrounded a seventh. Other people seized the edges of the flag, raising it. Despite the confusion, Jephtha couldn't help making a professional judgment: They'll soon comwant a new design. No matter how many stars they stitch on, that one looks like the Federal flag. Not easy to differentiate in battle- The appearance of the flag produced thunderous cheering, wave after wave of sound that diverted the soldiers and civilians grappling over the muskets. An officer at the head of the column seized the opportunity: "FoThat-aardl Quick-step! QidckstepFrom The soldiers fought free of their assailants and started jogging. The officer had made a wise decision, Jephtha thought. The sooner the Sixth Massachusetts reached the other depot, the better. A look of rapture lit the face of the pretty woman who had unfurled the flag. She shrieked at the trotting soldiers: "Cowards!" "Look at the yellow dogs, Sulene!" the red-faced woman cried. The mob roared louder. Jephtha realized the people had completely misinterpreted an order issued to prevent the confrontation from growing worse. Rocks rained. The screaming intensified: "Scairt of Marylanders, that's what they are!" "Run, little boys! Run!" "Cowards!" "COWARDS!" The red-faced woman flung another rock. Jt gashed The Titans261 the cheek of a soldier trotting by. Across the street, a pistol cracked. Almost simultaneously, the soldier whose cheek streamed blood" swung his musket in Jephtha's direction. He fired into the crowd. The man who'd been chewing tobacco took the Minie ball in his chest. His mouth spewed brown juice as he pitched onto the cobbles. A soldier kicked the side of his head. The man behind struck it with the butt of his rifle- Civilians on both sides of President Street scattered, screaming. More gunshots. A sudden yelp of pain. Smoke began to drift in the sunlight-All around Jephtha, people shoved and pushed, afraid of being hit. He was borne back from the edge of the plank walk as two more soldiers fired. He saw little Sulene fall. A man's hobnailed boot tore her face open. Three or four yards away, separated from her child by the sudden confusion, the red-faced woman was catting, "Sulene? Sulene-?" Jephtha used his fists and elbows to gain room. His dark hair flying, he snatched up the wailing tilde hild. "Here she is! I have her!" he roared over the din of running feet, clattering rocks, shrieks, gunshots. The red-faced woman fought her way toward him. Some in the crowd were trying to get back to the street; mostly men with hand guns. He braced his boots on the walk, buffeted from every side. He managed to hold his place until the woman reached him and clasped the girl in her arms: "Thank you, sir, thank you-oh, my God, Sulene-was oh, my God, those butchers-was Jephtha wiped sweat from his nose and said nothing. The weeping woman seemed to have forgotten her role in provoking the violence, and that a civilian, not a soldier, had caused the child's injury. The woman staggered out of sight Down the street the Sixth Massachusetts was on the run, followed by a 262Bloody Baltimore large crowd of men with weapons. More shots rang out. Jephtha prayed the officers had ordered the soldiers to fire above the heads of the civilians. Only that way could a slaughter be averted. Watching the smoke rise on President Street, he was completely unprepared for the attack from behind. iv A man hurrying into the street shoved him. He sidestepped, off balance. Something tore the skirt of his black coat. Astonished, he glanced down and saw a length of metal tangled in the fabric. The metal vanished in an eyebliiik; withdrawn. Someone comwas behind him; someone comwho had struck for his spine with a knife. Only the accidental jostling had saved him- He spun around, his pale eyes opening wide at the sight of the red-bearded man. They were comwatching me backslash For an instant, the men exchanged astonished stares. Red-beard was stunned because he'd failed; Jephtha because the unexpected assault was the last touch of irrationality on a sunlit day already poisoned with madness. In that suspended moment while he listened to the bearded man's breath hissing between his teeth, a curious thought struck him. The man bore him no special animosity. No hate showed in his eyes- But he still held the knife close to his leg, ready to use again. About two feet separated Jephtha and red-beard. People hurried by on both sides, hardly giving them a glance. The man's hand jerked upward suddenly, his knuckles white around the Bowie's handle- The Titans263 A woman saw the knife. Screamed; pointed Red- beard was quick to explain the knife by shouting: "You cheered for the Yanks one time too many, mister-w The blade came streaking toward Jephtha's rumpled shirt. His hands felt heavy; immobilized by his surprise. There was no time to reach for the pepperbox- The fast thud of Jephtha's heart was loud in his ears as he shot both hands toward the man's wrist. He clamped the hard flesh with his fingers and held the knife