1863 Saratoga Summer Read online

  Connor gathered her into his arms. “You don’t know me yet, lass, but I’ll protect you with my dying breath. Nothing will happen to you, if I’m here.”

  Sinead pushed him away. “’Tis not myself I’m afraid for. ‘Tis your brother and my da, who are out in the riots. I know they’re trying to get to us. Nothing will stop my da.” She raised her arms in a gesture of hopelessness. “And what might happen to Robbie? I’ve got to get to him.” She crossed the lobby in quick, determined steps, preparing to climb over the barricades and go out the front door.

  Connor followed and laid his hand on her arm. “You’re not going anywhere, until your da gets here. What does your leaving here solve? What if Egan and he manage to get through the mob and are on their way? They’ll get us to Robbie faster and safer.”

  He turned her around. “Please, lass, running off, without knowing what or where you’re going, will not be helping us in any way. Stay calm.”

  Sinead’s body seemed to fold in on itself. She leaned into his chest and sobbed out her anguish. Her body shook with the wretchedness of her fears.

  Connor didn’t know how to behave with her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman cry. All he could do is put his arms around her, pat her back and let her get it out of her system. “Easy. Easy,” he crooned and kissed her forehead. He reached into his pocket and found a cloth, which he shoved at her. “Here, take this. Wipe those tears from your face, lass. We must continue to think everything is going to be all right.”

  Sinead nodded and took the cloth from his hand. Without a sound, she dabbed at her eyes, trying to dry the flood of tears, continuing to spill from them.

  The clerk, his arms spread wide in supplication, approached them. “I’m sorry sir, but we have to clear the lobby. Please return to your room.”

  Connor stared down at the man. “And I’m equally sorry. What you’re suggesting is impossible. We intend to wait right here for my wife’s d…father.”

  He continued as if he didn’t hear Connor. “Truly, sir, the employees of the hotel are very sorry. We’ve gotten word the city is in a state of siege. There are mobs outside committing arson, murder and rape, and it’s going on right now in different parts of the city.”

  Sinead’s eyes opened wide. They were still glossy and blurred from the tears. She tugged at Connor’s shirt and begged him with her expression. “Where?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Where?” Connor asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. We’ll be waiting right here for a while longer.”

  Sinead turned to the clerk. Her eyes were reddened but getting drier. “My father is to come here to pick us up in his carriage. Once we’re settled in it, we’re going home to get my son.”

  A loud call came floating across the lobby from the doorway. “Connor O’Malley. Call for Connor O’Malley.”

  Sinead and Connor turned in unison toward the door. Egan must have spotted them for he leaped the lounges and chairs placed at front door and raced to them. “Och, Connor. ‘Tis glad I am to be seeing you again. I possessed some doubts, I did.”

  Connor clasped his brother to him. “And ‘tis glad I am to be looking at your sorry, freckled face again.” He poked him on the arm then swung him around in a mighty hug. “No matter how ugly.”

  “Where’s my da, Egan. You haven’t come alone, I suspect.” Sinead laid a hand on his arm. “I’m glad to see you, too. I am that. To see you in one piece and walking about. Now, where’s my da?”

  Egan grabbed Connor by an elbow and Sinead by one of hers He propelled them forward toward the main doors of the hotel. “Your da’s in the carriage outside, holding onto the horses for dear life. They’re mighty spooked. Beyond their knowing or understanding.”

  “You’ll be after telling me, won’t you, laddie?” Connor helped Sinead over a lounge chair and held the door open.

  The carriage stood outside in the street. The horses twisted every way they could in a desperate attempt to get out of their traces.

  Sinead barreled through the main door first. She saw her da, ran across the sidewalk and threw herself up onto the driver’s seat. Her arms went about her da’s shoulders to hug him. “I’ve been so worried about you. We kept hearing rumors about what was going on outside, but we weren’t allowed to leave the hotel.”

  Bowes struggled with the horses. “Easy, darlin’. Easy. We’ll be moving on soon enough.” He turned to Sinead. “Calm down, lass, and listen to me. ‘Tis not over yet. Folks have gone crazy with rioting and pillaging anything they can get their dirty hands on. They’re all over the city. We’ve got to get out of here. And quickly.”

  “Da, where can we go? I have to get Robbie. I have to make sure he’s alright.” Sinead rested her head against her father’s brow.

  Connor approached the carriage. He reached up to the driver’s seat and clasped Bowes hand. “’Tis good to see you, sir. And my brother. What would you be having us do?”

  “First of all, climb into the carriage. We have to find me grandson, I guess. Make sure everything is alright at the Dewitt’s.” Bowes stared at Connor. “Can ye drive, laddie? I know ye’re brother can. Can you?”

  “Aye, I’m a good hand with the carriages back home. You want me to be driving this rig?”

  “I’m thinking ye look more fearsome than I do. People would be more inclined to let ye pass by than they would me. I’ll sit next to ye, in case ye need some added instruction. Sinead and Egan, sit in the back to balance the carriage over the cobblestones.”

  Connor put his hands around Sinead’s waist, lifted her from the driver’s seat and gently placed her in the carriage. Egan leaped up beside her.

  Connor shut the door and turned. “Damn it. The trunk. I left it inside.”

  Bowes spoke up. “Leave it there son. The people in the hotel will hold it for you, I’m thinking. At least, it will be safer there than out on the back of this vehicle, going like we’ll might have to go.”

  Connor nodded. “I won’t be needed much now and will come back for the trunk later tonight. I’ve most of my important papers and my money in the inside pocket of my jacket.” He swung himself up onto the driver’s seat and took a firm hold on the reins. He slapped them twice and clucked loudly. With great reluctance, the horses moved forward at a fast trot.

  ~*~

  The heat, humidity and stench of pestilence took its toll on the occupants of the carriage. Wavy lines and dots swam before Sinead’s eyes. She felt as faint as she did on Saturday and urged Connor to hurry. The more she saw, the more worried she became about Robbie.

  Connor and Egan were exhausted. Egan leaned against the stiffly cushioned back of the carriage. His eyes scanned the streets in constant motion, back to front, side to side. Although Connor kept a tight hand on the reins, his eyes were almost as alert as Egan’s to those around the area. Disbelief and something far more dangerous shone on Connor’s face and turned his eyes dark.

  Disbelieving what he saw, Bowes gave Connor directions to the West side of the city, hoping to avoid the vicious activity displayed in the streets on the East side. It was impossible to go straight to Dewitts or to get through the massive crowds, shouting and rumbling up and down the thoroughfares.

  In an effort to reach the Dewitt mansion without incident, they circumvented most of the avenues where the bulk of the wild and dangerous activities occurred. The going was difficult, but they made slow progress to the West side by going cross-town.

  Sinead blew out an elongated sigh of relief.

  A man lumbered out of the crowd, his eyes hideously cold and empty. With a ghastly grin plastered across his face and rolling his eyes, he leaped onto the side of the carriage, hung grimly on the door and grabbed her arm with a bloody hand. “My,” he cackled, “aren’t you the lovely one.”

  Sinead writhed in her seat, pulling back with all her might. She twisted out of his grasp and struggled to remain above the wave of darkness washing over her.

  With a cry of anger, Egan rose from
his seat and smashed the man’s hand with the heel of his. He grabbed the man’s shirt. With a heave, he shoved him from the carriage door and into the street where he disappeared from view, lost in the crowd.

  “Good lad,” Connor called from the front. He reached beneath the driver’s seat, grasped one of the crops Bowes hid and tossed it into the back. “Here. Use this next time anyone touches the carriage or anyone in it.” Connor’s teeth locked tightly together.

  The carriage swayed from the motion of the crowd rubbing up against it. Sinead clutched the edge of the door, her Irish anger beginning to churn. “Do you have another?” she asked Connor, her voice ranging higher than usual.

  “Aye.” Again, he reached under the seat then tossed back a crop. “Don’t be afraid to use it lass. Wield it around your head if it be necessary,” he called, just as another man reached for her.

  Sun bounced off the cobblestones as Sinead brought the crop down on the man’s head and shoulders. The force of the movement made her wince. The man squealed with pain but backed off.

  Voices pierced the distance and drew closer. A roar rose, deep and primitive, like the caws of crows swooping in black flocks to scavenge on carcasses. A sudden change of mood struck the mob to the left of the carriage. An ugly second front began. Bands of Irish longshoremen, quarrymen, street pavers, teamsters and cartmen began chasing people of color in every direction. Others were attacking the homes of blacks, only yards away from the carriage.

  “Kill all niggers!” one shrieked.

  “Get him…Him, too,” cried a man who moved through the crowd, pointing to every black man he saw.

  “Don’t let any of ‘em escape,” many women screamed.

  Frightened, Sinead looked around, aware of every movement in the street. A shiver progressed down her back. Blacks were being dragged from their homes, off streetcars and from anywhere they were found. She bleated a name. “Connor…”

  With mouths agape, everyone in the carriage remained speechless, unblinking and unmoving but, with the tumult around them, came images. Against the sun’s glare, flashes of color, of faces, sent a fit of nausea to Sinead’s throat and brought her hand to her mouth.

  Egan grew pale. Connor tensed, his hands tightening on the reins. Bowes slumped in his seat, horrified. He pointed ahead.

  A boarding house owner he knew was being robbed and stripped, his place of business on fire. At one restaurant they passed, the crowd tried to attack the black waiters but was repulsed by black men with knives and huge pieces of lumber.

  Bowes bowed his head in shame and turned his face away from the violence, only to be met with more on the other side. Another house was trashed from paving stones, which smashed the windows then ransacked.

  Those in the carriage could do nothing. They were hemmed in by the mass of people, by the reckless, bitter cast of the crowd, by unbridled fury and hate. The horses were leaping in their traces, striking out with their hooves.

  Connor’s voice rose over the mob, cold, clear and sharp like a razor. “This is more than I can stand, this waste of fragile human life. Let’s get out of here.”

  The sound of his ragged voice chilled Sinead more than the danger they faced. She realized her new husband was a man who would walk fearlessly into violent situations, if necessary, but he would keep his fear hidden until he dealt with the danger.

  Caught up in the fury of the mob scene, Connor cracked his whip with a purpose, high above the horses. They curved forward, their muscles stretching with newfound strength, and moved sideways, shoving the crowd from their path. He continued to flick the twanging, crackling whip in the air, in repeated thrusts.

  Willful and spiteful, determined to win this clash of wills, the mob began to plunder and burn, lending a wild aspect to the scene. Light smoke began to float out of windows.

  Pulsing in time with the gallop of a thousand heartbeats, it seemed the beastly ruffians were masters of the situation in the city and the group in the carriage hadn’t even gotten to the Dewitts yet.

  Sinead lowered her face into her hands. “What more might await us on the way there?”

  ~*~

  Throughout the day, the carriage trudged through streets and byways that were almost impassable. Those inside watched with revulsion and awe. With sheer untarnished power, savage gangs stormed up and down the city. They ripped down telegraph poles and wires, destroyed streetcars and train tracks. They looted and burned everything and anything, which seemed to offend their frantic sensibilities.

  Undermanned Metropolitan Police were seen on every street and avenue, over which the carriage moved. They fought bravely wherever they could. In one instance, Bowes pointed out members of the harbor militia. Even with those reinforcements, members of the rioting mobs horribly outnumbered the police.

  By two o’clock in the afternoon, unbearable heat and humidity flooded the city. Smoke infiltrated the air and pushed it downward on those in the carriage. The horses walked more slowly, their weariness apparent in each footfall and in the drooping angle of their heads. On less congested streets, past less-intimidating gangs of the city, they maneuvered the carriage up the West side of the city, a far distance north of the Dewitt’s East side mansion.

  Worsened by the day’s heat, heavy silence enveloped the occupants for miles. Connor and Bowes managed to steer the carriage across the upper regions of the West side to Fifth Avenue. They stopped to give the horses a rest and a drink. Their problem then became getting down the East side without incident.

  “How are you faring, lass?” Connor turned in his seat to stare at her. He leaned on the seat with one knee flexed.

  Sinead heard the tired, husky note in his voice. It rumbled in her ear. “I’m fine. Just anxious.”

  Bowes turned to her and said, “Sinead, ye been brave, lass. We’ll get to the lad as soon as we can. We can’t be riding on top of all the people in our way, can we, lassie?” A smile made his mouth quirk in a funny position.

  His words smashed into her snug world, the world she’d lived in before Saturday. “Da,” Sinead said in a soft voice, “let’s be moving on. I have a bad fear in my heart and the fear for Robbie is pounding its way through my mind.”

  Connor took the reins in his hands and slapped them once against the horses. “I’m thinking these horses cannot go much faster than a walk. Their bones and temperaments are weary from all the excitement and tension.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “What good are they then? Maybe we’d be better off afoot.”

  “”I’m thinking it wouldn’t be wise. To be on foot,” Egan complained. “I’m thinking these beasties might come in handy later on.”

  “I’m in agreement,” Connor added.

  “Me, too.” Bowes turned to Sinead and raised a finger to his lips.

  She sighed. “Then I am overruled. So be it.”

  Not another word was spoken as they traveled down Fifth Avenue, which seemed deserted. It was only two-thirty in the afternoon. Before long they came to Fifth Avenue and Forty-third Street.

  There, an infuriated gang surrounded three sides of a rambling, wooden building. The sign in front indicated the Colored Orphan Asylum, home to more than two hundred African American children under the age of twelve.

  Carrying torches, brickbats and paving stones, the gang started screaming, “Burn the nigger’s nest.” The one cry fostered others, wild sounds like the barks of jackals, an unconscious animal response.

  “Kill them wee bastards,” a man shouted, a ghastly grin on his face.

  “Why are we fighting for them?” The question sounded coarse, mean, threatening.

  “Burn the nigger children…”

  Warning bells jangled deep inside Sinead. Struck with shock, her heart thudded. Connor’s ruddy color leached from his face. Blood rushed to his head, pushed there by the violence of driving, crashing waves of people destroying themselves and others. It was the reality of the moment.

  “My God,” he cried. “There are children in the building. They
have to be getting out.”

  Sporadic paving stones began to fly at windows. Men and small boys began smashing the sashes and got inside. They tore blinds down and began to throw out light articles, such as books and crockery.

  Connor stopped the horses and turned in his seat. “I cannot stand by and watch this devastation any more.” He tossed the reins to Bowes. “Take the carriage around to the back.”

  “Where are you going?” Sinead cried out.”

  “To help those wee children. Come on, Egan. They’ll be needing us to help out.” Grim purpose etched every line of his face.

  Connor jumped from the driver’s seat. He ran to the other side of the carriage and threw open the door. Egan eased himself out. “Lass, get up in the front next to your da. You’ll be safer there, with him.”

  “What about Robbie? I have to get to Robbie.”

  Connor, who already started toward the asylum, wheeled around. He ran back to the carriage and glared at Sinead. “I’d be hoping the Dewitts contained enough sense to keep their grandchild from harm. If not, you’ve been living in the wrong place, lassie.” He turned and ran to catch up with Egan.

  Bowes grabbed the reins and whipped the horses around. They went down the street at a fast clip. Bowes turned them at the corner, and they went around the block to the back of the building. He stopped them a short way away from the building.

  “Do what yer husband says, Sinead. Climb in front with da.”

  The idea sent a fit of nausea to Sinead’s stomach. “I’m afraid to get near the horses.”

  Bowes turned to her, his eyes narrowed, anger written on his face. He scowled fiercely.

  “Ye’ve too many fears for such a young lassie. Ye’re too obstinate and set in yer ways, too reluctant to do new things, to live yer life. I guess ye’ll have to be deciding what ye’re most afraid of, daughter.”

  “Well, really, Da…” Her cheek burned with awareness of his appraisal.

  “Is it yer new husband whom ye barely know anything about, the horses who have done ye no harm or the mobs of crazy folk busting up this once fair city? I wash me hands of yer fears. Ye should have gotten over them through the years. I have wee patience with ye anymore.”