The Year of Jubilee comes to Maryland
The first time the Yankees passed through Henry’s plantation, they were not carrying the flag of freedom. Henry and the other children were not excited to see these white men in Blue uniforms. White men should be avoided, lest they thought you “uppity” and strike you like Massa liked to do when he was angry or drunk. So, they stayed behind, in the shadows, while the soldiers passed through. Aside from their long column, Henry could remember Massa’s furious glare, as he angrily muttered against those Yankees and their disrespect for Southern rights. When the leader of the regiment came to Massa and asked to set his headquarters in the plantation, Massa started to howl, saying that he would help no Yankees. “Are you secesh then?”, the bearded officer asked, his voice vibrating with a Northern twang that Henry had hardly ever heard. “We don’t like traitors, sir. We only like Union men.” That, and the glares of the bluecoats, probably convinced Massa.
Among the bluecoats there were some who glared at the slaves every time they saw them working in the fields. Henry at first thought it was because they were white men, and white men hated slaves like him. But then he overhead them talking. Their words were strange – “monstrous institution”, “curse upon the country”, “crusade for freedom”. Henry had never ever seen a book and didn’t know how to read or how to interpret these strange words. He was able, however, to see the pity and sympathy in the soldiers’ eyes. Some of them said they came from “Massachusetts” and that they were fighting to end slavery and save the Union. “Will you free us, sir?”, Henry had asked, still fearful and timid but filled with a new feeling of hope. The most radical of the soldiers, a kind pastor who, unlike their preacher, said that God didn’t like slavery, shook his head sadly. “Our commander says we can’t take any contrabands”, he explained, “but in God’s good time, and using Father Abraham Lincoln as his instrument, this land will be purged of the accursed institution”. Henry again didn’t understand, but he knew it meant that freedom wouldn’t come.
When the Lincoln soldiers left, they left with three of their farmhands. Moses, Simon, and John were young, they had no family, for their loved ones had been sold down South. Moses’ wife had, in fact, been sold just a few months before the war, and Henry could still hear him crying sometimes. Henry was one of the lucky ones, really. He only had a few scars, and though they had sold his father his mother was still with him. No one was surprised that those three had decided to leave; they were surprised, however, that the Yankees had taken them. Massa of course hollered with rage, but the bearded Yankee just said that they were contrabands of war and were now helping the cause of the Union. “I thought your soldiers were ordered not to entice my property?”, Massa had asked. “We didn’t entice them, sir”, the Yankee answered with a smirk. “They came because they wanted to, and according to Congress we can’t return any contrabands.” That night, Henry heard as Massa got drunk and cursed the names of Lincoln and Butler, though he didn’t know who those gentlemen were.
The second time the Yankees marched through Henry’s plantation, they weren’t from Massachusetts, they weren’t friendly, and they weren’t happy. They were still dressed in blue, and they still carried the same flag, but it still wasn’t the flag of freedom. The “grapevine telegraph” had told the grown-ups that the Yankees had not been able to take a town called “Washinton”, and that a “General Madowell” had died. Many cried, included Henry’s mother, and they all silently but fervently prayed for the rebels to be defeated and the Union folks to win. Henry understood a little better now, and he joined those prayers. Things were worse now in the plantation. Massa used the whip more often and worked them harder. He had even tried to move them south, but the Yankee soldiers prohibited him from moving to a place called South Carolina. They would remain in Maryland. But despite these sufferings, the grownups smiled more, and Henry’s mom even sang again, something she hadn’t done since they sold dad. She sang about freedom.
When the Yankees retook Washington and Father Abraham signed the Proclamation, the shouts of Glory Hallelujah echoed throughout the entire Sunny South. They were in Maryland, so no Yankee came to give them freedom, but they still cried and shouted. “Father Abraham has spoken”, Henry’s mom would say. “The Year of Jubilee is coming.” Massa started to drink and whip more than ever before, but he could not quiet the Proclamation. Three more farmhands escaped, then an entire family. But Henry could not leave, he would not. His mom was sick, she wouldn’t survive. He knew that Old Henrietta had died when trying to escape. He couldn’t lose his mom, so when she asked him whether he didn’t want to leave with Sam and try and reach the Yankee camps, he said not. He would rather receive fifty whippings than abandon her.
The third time the Yankees marched through Henry’s plantation, they came looking for Black men. “By the proclamation of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States”, firmly said the officer in charge, “I hereby invite all Negro men to sign up for the Armed Forces of the Republic.” Massa protested. “You can’t do that, Maryland is excluded”, he claimed. The officer answered that the Congress had decreed that Black men could join the Army if they wanted, and obtain their freedom through that service. As Massa went away, cursing many gentlemen that Henry didn’t know (Summer, Stevens, Wade), many of the young men of the plantation signed up for the Army. Henry then recognized the kind pastor. He looked a decade older, and was jumping around in crutches. “A wound of Anacostia”, he said with pride when Henry asked. “At least I still have it! Poor William Foster lost both his legs thanks to that rebel artillery…” Henry asked if he could too join the Army, free his mom, and receive a blue uniform. “I’m afraid not, my boy. You’re too young”, the pastor said. “But you and your mother could go to that nearby contraband camp. There are teachers, who can teach you. You would be a great credit to the Negro race!”. Thinking of his sick mother and her feeble legs, Henry shook his head.
Perhaps it was God almighty that gave her that illness, for they later found out that a group of “gue-ri-llas” had slaughtered the contraband camp. Massa gloated before them, saying that that’s what happened to disloyal slaves. Then Massa gloated even more when he heard that a “General Ma-Cle-Llan” had been defeated by a General Lee. They cried that night, bitter tears of anguish and despair falling from their eyes as they contemplated a rebel victory. They also cried for Sally, the melancholic girl who had escaped only to be ravished and murdered by a marauder, and for Robert, a funny man who always made Henry laugh, who had gone missing and was either in a ditch in Maryland or a plantation in Georgia. Henry and the others had more opportunity to cry when “General Hu-ker” was defeated. As the Yankee troops marched northward, ragged and dispirited, Henry recognized a young Massachusetts soldier and asked for the kind pastor. “Father Edwards died gloriously for the Union at Manassas”, the soldier said simply.
The fourth time the Yankees marched through Henry’s plantation, there were Black men with them. The Yankees were grim yet determined as they marched, mumbling about defeating Lee and defending “Pennsylvania”. The Black soldiers were timid, marching in silence. But behind the exterior, there was a certain pride, a certain valor in their stride. Now the Yankees were carrying the flag of freedom, and what’s more, Black men were helping to carry it. The children accompanied the Black soldiers, giggled and jumped around as they marched. The soldiers smiled, and said that they would show the traitor Lee what the coloreds could do, with the help of their gallant commander Doubleday. Henry and the children couldn’t believe there were Black men in Blue uniforms, fighting against the rebels. Old Massa turned as white as paper when he saw them, while Henry and his mom now saw freedom within their reach for the first time.
Moses was among the soldiers that marched that day. No one had known whether he was alive or not. As the Yankees stopped to eat and rest, Moses explained that he lived in a contraband camp for many months until Father Abraham had allowed him to wear the uniform. “Nothing don’t scare the rebels like a Colored man with a rifle!”, Moses said as he held his weapon proudly in the air. Henry could not help noticing that the Black troops received sneers from the white soldiers, and could hear a few mutterings about how “niggers can’t fight”. Moses told him to not listen. “We are colored United States soldiers now,” he said, pointing to his brass “US” badge. “We will whip the rebel soldiers, you will see!”. After the Yankees left, Massa reunited everybody and warned to not dare leaving. He had important business to attend in Baltimore, he said, and he wanted to find everyone in their places when he came back.
The fifth time the Yankees marched through Henry’s plantation, the Black soldiers were fewer, but they held their heads high in pride, the flag of freedom they carried waving in the air. The white soldiers did not sneer anymore, but now they laughed and celebrated alongside their Black comrades. Henry and the children thought it miraculous. Moses was not with them. When they asked, a Black soldier said with pride that “he died at Union Mills! But he died gloriously! He showed that traitor Stonewall!”. The children did not know what Union Mills was or who Stonewall was. But they knew that Moses was a hero. A few weeks later, a Yankee colonel came with a host of men and women not dressed in blue but in all colors. The Massa, who had not returned, had been found sending weapons to the rebels in “Bal-ti-mor”, and had been killed during those riots. Now, the Yankee man announced, the plantation would be administered by the Bureau of Confiscated and Abandoned Lands, and the Bureau of Freedmen and Refugees would take care of them. Henry and his mother smiled like never before, as she for the first time received medicine and he received books. Some even talked of receiving land. That night they prayed for Father Abraham and the Union Army, for the first time without fear.
The sixth time the Yankees marched through Henry’s home farm, the Heroes of Union Mills were holding the flag of freedom high in the air.
