The Fall of Natchez by Sabra Waldfogel

Author:Sabra Waldfogel [Waldfogel, Sabra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

The army camp was full of noise and activity, but it seemed orderly. The contraband camp was a hive of disorder. The contrabands were housed in tents made of stained and patched canvas, crowded together like the pieces in a crazy quilt. Men stood in idle groups, and women and children sat on the bare ground. Like their makeshift homes, the people looked shabby. Used to the neat dress of the house servants in Natchez-under-the-Hill, Rosa was appalled that these people were literally dressed in rags. Many of the children went barefoot. Families sat on the bare ground before tin plates with the remains of a meager meal. The smell was rank. The camp smelled of bacon grease, smoke from wood fires, and human waste.

Rosa lifted her hem to spare it from the dirt. So this is their freedom, she thought. She struggled for a neutral remark. “How many people live here?” she asked Marcus.

“Thousands. They outnumber the soldiers who are here.”

She breathed shallowly, trying to keep out the smell. “They seem so…miserable.”

Marcus looked grave. “They need so much, and the army can’t do enough for them.” He quickened his pace.

He plunged into the crowd, sure and unafraid. An old woman, surrounded by children, waved to him. “Captain!” she called out, smiling. “Good to see you!”

He halted and reached for her hand. “It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Jones. How are the children?”

The children, too small to walk yet, wore ragged shirts that came down to their knees and nothing else. She said, “They all right.”

“And your daughter? Did she find work?”

“Yes, she do wash for the army. It help us. As soon as we can, we get these children some new clothes.”

“Are you warm enough at night? Do you need blankets, too?”

She smiled again. Her teeth were surprisingly strong and white for a woman of her age. “We heap up together at night.”

“I’ll talk to the colonel,” he said. He pressed her hand and moved on.

“Captain Cohen!” a man called to him. He was stocky and muscular and dressed in a field hand’s clothes, but they were whole.

“Mr. Kendrick!” Marcus replied cheerfully. “I’ll see you after dinner! With your help, we’ll finish the fort before the year is over!”

The man grinned. “Hah!” he said. “Dig some more holes for the army!”

To Rosa, Marcus said, “He works for me. A good man.”

“Do they all know you?”

“Most of my men live here. I know them and their families, and since I visit often, I’ve met all their relatives and friends, too.”

A woman waved to him, and he waved back. She sat in a rickety folding chair, the same as the army used, and her sewing filled her lap. At her feet, she had spread a large piece of cloth. On it two little girls played peekaboo with a baby.

Rosa recognized the calico of the little girls’ dresses.

“Mrs. Turner,” Marcus said. “I’ve brought someone to meet you. My friend, Miss Rosa Levy.”

The woman laid down her sewing. She stood. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Levy.

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