Due North to Freedom

Due North to Freedom

Terence O’Grady

Copyright 2011 Terence O’Grady

Cover photo courtesy of Rob Shenk

Cover by Joleene Naylor

Smashwords Edition

Smashword Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Richmond under Siege

Chapter 2: Fight!

Chapter 3: Expectations Denied

Chapter 4: First Threats

Chapter 5: Mr. Smith Arrested!

Chapter 6: Southern Strategy

Chapter 7: The Yankees Meet

Chapter 8: Joseph Discovered

Chapter 9: Dark Times

Chapter 10: Warnings

Chapter 11: Plotting the Escape

Chapter 12: Escape from Chimborazo

Chapter 13: Family Conflicts

Chapter 14: Due North to Freedom

Chapter 15: Hopes Destroyed

Chapter 16: Time to Leave

Chapter 17: Flight to Freedom

Prologue

While the main characters and story line of Due North to Freedom are fictitious, most of the circumstances depicted here are historically accurate. A number of northerners had moved to southern cities such as Richmond prior to the war, mostly for economic reasons. When the war came, some of the transplanted Yankees completely embraced the Confederate’s perspective. Others, like the O’Toole family, were divided in their loyalties from the beginning and eventually concluded that they could not support the Confederate cause. From that point on, it was just a question of how and when they could return North to freedom.

Chapter One: Richmond Under Siege

Ryan sometimes felt his ears would go deaf with the explosions. The Yankees had been lobbing shells into Richmond from their long-range guns for so long that he forgot what quiet really sounded like. The Yankees probably knew that the shells weren’t doing much damage; they just wanted to remind everybody in the city that they weren’t going away.

And the heat! It seemed like it was always hot in Richmond, even in early October. Boston had been different. He had loved the crisp, cool air of Boston in the fall, and the roaring fires that he and his family would huddle around in the frigid winters. But Richmond barely had a winter. There was never any real snow here. That’s what he missed most about leaving Boston—sliding down the small but slippery hills that were only a couple of minutes from his house.

Of course his mother, Mary O’Toole, said that it was a blessing that Richmond was so warm. She hated the Massachusetts winters. But she had been born in the South, in Virginia, not far from Richmond, and always claimed that she could never got used to the cold. When the family had moved from Boston to Richmond so that his father, William O’Toole, could take a position at one of the largest banks in Richmond, no one was happier than his mother.

The move had not been an easy one for thirteen year-old Ryan O’Toole. He was lanky and tall for his years, but shy—slow to make friends—even after living in Richmond for over three years. There were a couple of other boys he liked, boys he sometimes fooled around with. But many of the other boys teased him about the way he talked, teased him about being a Yankee. Usually they were smiling when they said it, but not always. Lately, as the war was getting worse and worse for the Confederacy, he could hear real anger in their taunts.

His younger brother, eleven year-old Matthew, seemed fine with the move to Richmond. Matthew had made friends quickly, as he always did. When the family first arrived, the other kids teased him about his Yankee accent, but he gave it right back to them with a broad smile on his face. Matthew was easy to like. He had had dozens of friends back in Boston and now he had dozens of friends in Richmond as well.

Ryan’s older sister, Abigail, seemed happy enough in Richmond. She was nineteen and had recently taken a position as a schoolmistress. She now lived next to the little school in which she taught on the other side of Richmond. But Abigail still visited with the family often on weekends and that was fine with Ryan. She had a beau now, but sometimes made fun of him when she was alone with her family. Still, Ryan figured that moving to Richmond was probably just fine with her.

Ryan wasn’t sure about his father, though. While his Mother talked about moving to Richmond as coming home, Mr. O’Toole would just smile slightly and nod. His father seemed to enjoy his job at the new bank—he was a vice president now and people always called him sir—but Ryan thought that he had become much quieter than he used to be, especially in public. Mr. O’Toole had been so lively and outgoing back in Boston. He seemed to know everyone. But now, he was so soft-spoken when he greeted people, and he never seemed to really smile, not unless he was home with his family. Even then, his mother and father never seemed to laugh together—or at least not as much as they had in Boston. Of course there wasn’t much to laugh about with the war going on right in their own backyard.

Ryan suddenly heard the sounds of horses in back of him. Turning back toward his house, he saw two soldiers, dressed in drab, butternut uniforms, dismounting and heading toward the door. Something about the war! He was sick of hearing about the war! It had started right after his family had moved to Richmond. All the grown ups talked about it constantly and the boys at school always wanted to play soldier. Ryan wanted no part of it. The boys, of course, all pretended to be Confederate soldiers fighting the Yankees, driving them out of Richmond, driving them out of the South altogether. Ryan just ignored the other boys. He didn’t want to be a Yankee or a Reb. He just didn’t want to think about it. But now he saw that a couple of Confederate soldiers were knocking on his front door. Ryan returned quickly to the house and went around to a side window, ducking his head down so as not to be seen, and listened as best he could to what the soldiers had to say.

Now Mr. O’Toole, sir, we’re not here lookin’ for any trouble, said the older of the two soldiers. You’re a respected man in this community, even if you haven’t been livin’ in Richmond too long.

But on the other hand, sir, chimed in the younger man, we have to be lookin’ to the defense of our fine city. We must know how everyone stands on these matters. Richmond is under siege by the Yankees and we must know who we can count on.

Mr. O’Toole paused. He cleared his throat slightly.

Gentlemen, he said quietly. Rest assured that I will take no action that reflects badly on Richmond, providing of course that all of her citizens are protected from abuse—abuse from any quarter.

That’s all very well and good, the younger man said curtly, but them that is not with us is against us, if you take my meaning.

It’s just that…well…people will talk, sir, said the older soldier in a gentler tone. Everybody knows that you’re from Massachusetts, and it may be some of those Massachusetts boys we find on our doorstep one of these fine days. We’ve got to know if we can rely on you for help if it comes to defending Richmond from the Yankees.

Well, corporal, I think you’ll agree that I’m a little old for active military service. But I can be relied on to continue to work hard for the betterment of Richmond, just as I have for the last three years, said Mr. O’Toole, his tone stiffening slightly.

That’s as may be, said the younger soldier, but some of us are a bit suspect as to just where the loyalties of some of you transplanted Yankees lie.

You will recall, sergeant, that we ‘Yankees’—two of whom work with me at my bank as you well know—came to Richmond of our own free will to make our homes and our lives here. We’re here now and have no plans to leave. As far as our loyalties are concerned, we—my ‘Yankee’ friends and I—are loyal to the notion of peace and harmony, nothing more and nothing less. Now if just you’re here to throw some more northerners in jail…

We’re not here to make an arrest, sir, but we felt we must remind you of the circumstances in which we all find ourselves, said the older soldier calmly. And as a man of standing in this community, you surely are aware that there can be no peace without honor, sir. And Virginia must think of its honor.

Mr. O’Toole nodded his head gently. I understand your position, sir. Now please understand mine. We wish to be left alone—myself and my family—to pursue our lives and to live in peace. Now, I’m sure you gentlemen have other business which you must attend to so I’ll bid you good day.

The soldiers nodded and turned toward the door. Then the younger man wheeled around abruptly. Mr. O’Toole, you’ve got a fine family, I hear—a lovely wife of good Virginia stock. I wouldn’t think you would want to do anything foolish that would bring harm to them.

I have no intention of bringing harm to anyone, gentlemen, replied Mr. O’Toole, raising himself to his full height, and I will see to it that no harm comes to my family, I can assure you.

Good day then, Mr. O’Toole, said the older soldier, putting his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and beckoning toward the door.

The two soldiers left quickly, closing the door hard behind them. Mr. O’Toole turned to face the window under which Ryan had been crouched.

So, did you hear what you wanted to hear? he said loudly, striding toward the window.

Ryan straightened up, looking guilty. I guess so, sir.

So it’s you, is it? said his father, a smile starting to spread across his face. I had figured it would be your reckless little brother, Matthew. Well, come on in anyway. If you’re going to hear some of it, you might as well hear all of it.

A couple of minutes later, Ryan was munching oatmeal cookies at the dinner table while his father tried to explain.

"The war isn’t going well for the South, son, and they’re getting worried. It looks as if Richmond might come under direct attack and people are getting all agitated. So they’re looking for traitors—someone who they think is going to sneak around and open up a backdoor somewhere and let the Yankees creep in under cover of night. And if you’re looking for traitors, you’re naturally going to look at folks who come from up north, like you and me. And Mr. Boniface and Mr. Wilson at the bank. They came to Richmond from the North, too. And there