Authors: Jean Mary Flahive
Jamie's lips curled into a smile. “Yeah, I remember.” He turned an eager face to Elijah. “Pa says you're stayin' for supper.”
“Oh, now, Jamie, suh, Elijah just don't know.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Ma's fixin' a place for you.”
“You want Elijah to stay?”
Jamie fixed his gaze to the ground. “Reckon. You like carrots?”
Elijah only nodded.
“Not me. Cooked ones that is. Billy liked 'em, so I used to sneak my carrots to him when Ma wasn't looking.”
“Mebbe your ma be fixin' carrots today?” said Elijah.
“Yeah.” Jamie kicked the golden needles, scattering them in heaps along the bank.
“Mebbe Jamie, suh, sneak his carrots to Elijah. But don't you be gettin' Elijah in trouble with the missus.”
“I won't, I won't!” A streak of color flushed Jamie's cheeks and he ran to the water's edge, peering into the water. “Hey, did you really spear a fish?”
“Oh, Elijah done spear two fishâone for Billy, suh, and one for Elijah.”
“How come you went and speared a fish for Billy?”
“Oh, Billy, suh, he didn't spear so goodâhe, wellâhe go and tell Elijah how to do it. But he sure move real good in the water.”
Jamie shot a dogged glance, his eyes resolute. “My brother can swim better'n anyone.”
“Yes, suh. Billy, suh, he swim real good. Mebbe you want to fish with Elijah and we use the spear only?” He winked at Jamie, but the child seemed not to have heard him.
A bird chirped overhead and swooped low over the river, landing on the stone wall. Hands clasped behind his back, Elijah stared at the dull brown bird as it pecked its way along the top of the wall. Suddenly something sharp jabbed his palm. Startled, he spun around.
Jamie had thrust the whittling into his hand.
“Billy made this for you. This here's the spear you caught them fish with.”
“Yes, suh, it look just like that,” he said as he turned the carving over and over and fingered the smooth wood. “This real nice whittlin'. But you keep it if you want.”
Jamie's head shook back and forth. “Unh-unh. Billy wanted you to have it. He was gonna make me a three-masted schooner before heâ” Suddenly Jamie plopped to the ground and stuck his thumb in his mouth. The child began to rock back and forth.
Elijah panicked.
“Billy, suh, he say you learn me checkers.”
“Billy said that?”
“Oh, yes, suh.”
“Me and Billy, we was always playing checkers,” he said.
Elijah dropped down on his knees. He pressed both hands gently on Jamie's shoulders but the rocking continued.
“One time Billy, suh, hold Elijah and we rock just like you. He hold me until Elijah stop. Just like Elijah gon' do for you, Jamie, suh. Then Elijah let go.”
Jamie rocked for a long time, all the while feeling the pressure of Elijah's hands resting firmly on his shoulders. Finally, he
yanked his thumb from his mouth and rubbed it dry against his trousers.
“I guess I can learn you checkers.”
“Elijah like that.” Slipping his arm from Jamie's shoulder, he reached for his hand. Small fingers wrapped tightly around his. Elijah eased them both up from the ground. “We go eat them carrots now, Jamie, suh.”
Jamie giggled. Pointing the way, one hand clutched tightly in Elijah's, he led him along the river path until it turned abruptly away and into the forest.
“Billy, suh, he tell Elijah he got to use them black checkers.”
“Them black checkers is mine. My brother didn't know how to play checkers so good.” He turned to Elijah. “Billy thought it was them red checkers is why he couldn't win a game.”
Elijah smiled in understanding, finding comfort in the child's uncanny likeness to Billy.
“Elijah?”
“Yes, Jamie, suh?”
“Billy said you was like his big brother.”
“He say that?”
“Yeah.” Jamie squeezed Elijah's hand. “You thinkin' maybe you would be my big brother now?”
A sharp ache passed through Elijah's chest. He stopped and squatted on the ground, cupping his hand under Jamie's lowered chin, raising his face until fragile blue eyes met brown.
“Elijah be wantin' that tooâoh, yes, suh.”
The path opened to the farm fields beyond, and Elijah turned his gaze to the top of the rise and the forest's edge where Billy lay.
Oh, Billy, suh, Elijah keep his promise. Look like Elijah go and help Jamie, suh, eat his carrots.
A breeze had come up and Elijah turned his back to it, tucking the child close. His eyes watered, and using his free arm, he rubbed his moistened lids against his shirtsleeve. He raised his face to the river, his blurred vision catching a flower, withered red and white, lifting by him in the wind.
Elijah tapped a fisted hand against his chest as the sprig of Sweet William swirled past him into the lofty pines and drifted quietly into the river.
Afterword
In 1996, my husband, Bill, attended the funeral of one of his former U.S. Army Reserve commanders, Colonel Richard Stillings, a World War II veteran from Berwick, Maine. At the funeral Bill learned that Stillings had chronicled all of the town's veterans and during the course of his research, came across the unusual story of William H. “Billy” Laird, a private who served briefly in the 17th Regiment Infantry, Maine Volunteers, during the U.S. Civil War. My husband, who knows of my love of history and the U.S. Civil War, guessed correctly that this story would become my first book.
Over the next two years, I worked to uncover Billy's story. Intending at first to write a nonfiction account of his life, I conducted research and interviews in Maine, at the National Archives in Washington, D.C., and in Maryland. It soon became clear, however, that the only facts I could find about Billy's story were just the beginning and the end of it. I then set out to write a fictional account, while striving to keep it as factual as possible.
Here are the facts.
Billy Laird mustered with 1,370 other men in the 17th Regiment Infantry, Maine Volunteers, on August 18, 1862, at Camp King in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, according to Regimental Histories, Maine State Archives. For the next two months, Private Laird served with Company G along the Potomac River and then, according to his military service records held at the National Archives, he was reassigned to Livingston's Battery in
Edward's Ferry, Maryland. Historian William B. Jordan Jr., in his book,
The Red Diamond Regiment
, states that Laird “had been enlisted âlacking in common intelligence' and illiterate.” Berwick historians, including Robert Stillings (the brother of the late Colonel Stillings), say it was likely that Laird, found intellectually unfit for infantry, would be sent instead to work with horses. While Jordan cites that Laird was unhappy with his transfer, articles written about Laird by the late Colonel Stillings state that he was unhappy largely as a result of ridicule and his being the constant butt of jokes.
Private Laird deserted on October 15, 1862, two days after his transfer to Livingston's Battery. There the facts of this story come to an end until Laird is captured and arrested in Berwick, Maine, sometime on or about May 23, 1863.
The original transcript of Laird's court-martial, which convened at Camp Keyes in Augusta, Maine, on July 2, 1863, is held at the National Archives. The transcript notes that Laird had a gun in his hand when confronted by Lieutenant Walker but that he threw it down. Found guilty of desertion and sentenced to death by firing squad, he was transferred to Fort Preble, located in what is now South Portland, Maine.
In their writings, Jordan and Colonel Stillings suggest that Major General John E. Wool, Department of the East, issued a stay of execution for Laird pending an appeal to President Lincoln for clemency. Town lore also alludes to a presidential pardon. Ultimately, I found no documentation for a pardon from President Lincoln. However, during the Draft Riots in New York City, which began on July 13, 1863, and continued for over three days, rioters seized military and governmental buildings, including telegraph offices. It is conceivable that during these few riotous days the alleged pardon became irretrievably lost.
Billy Laird was executed on July 15, 1863, and is buried just east of Cranberry Meadow Road in a small wooded plot near the Little River in Berwick, Maine.
Billy Laird was one of approximately 73,000 from Maine who enlisted to fight in the Civil War, and the state suffered over 18,000 casualties. According to Colonel Stillings's research, Laird was the only Maine soldier in the Civil War to be executed for desertion. With regard to the 17th Maine Regiment, Jordan writes in
The Red Diamond Regiment
, “The 17th Maine may not have always fought the most effectively nor the most savagely, but they frequently stood where the fighting was the fiercest and faced the heaviest fire. They suffered more casualties than any other infantry regiment from Maine. The 17th easily laid claim to the honor of being one of the best combat units in the Union army.” Of the 1,371 soldiers of the 17th Maine Regiment, 207 were killed, 552 wounded, and 163 died of disease.
For information specifically dealing with the 17th Maine Regiment, beginning at Camp King and then through their movements along the Potomac River, I relied extensively on the day-to-day accounts of Private John Haly in his published diary,
The Rebel Yell and the Yankee Hurrah
:
A Civil War Journal of a Maine Volunteer
. For accuracy of the battles referenced in my novel, I relied on numerous authenicated historical records. Haley's diary, however, was a wonderful source for the 17th's role in the Battle of Fredericksburg as seen through the eyes of a private.
In my novel, the slave runaway, Elijah, is fictitious. However, I wanted to balance Elijah's story with perhaps some lesser-known historical facts about William Still and the Underground Railroad. I've had a lifelong fascination with
William Still, a free black man who has often been called the Father of the Underground Railroad. Elijah was the means through which I could offer an authentic glimpse of Philadelphia's Anti-Slavery Society's Vigilance Committee, in which William Still was chairman and recording secretary. Many of the questions asked of Elijah by the members of the Vigilance Committee were taken directly from Still's book,
The Underground Railroad
, in which Still recorded interviews of so many fugitives from slavery before they were assisted to Canada.
My husband and I tracked Billy's and Elijah's escape route beginning at Edward's Ferry, Maryland, the site of Billy's desertion. From there we traveled to Sandy Spring, Maryland, and gathered information on the early Quaker settlers at the Sandy Spring Museum, some of whom are mentioned in my novel, and on to the train station at Ellicotts Mills, Maryland. The train route that Billy traveled from Ellicotts Mills and ultimately to Boston, Massachusetts, was authenticated with assistance from the National Railroad Historical Society.
The U.S. Civil War is only the backdrop to this story, which explores the reccurring themes of duty, loyalty, injustice, and the human condition. Throughout the history of warfare, we have been witness to man's inhumanity against man, and yet we are also touched by the better angels of human nature. The Quakers in my novel are examples of those angels. While Johanna Samson is fictitious, Anna Dickinson was a young Quaker from Philadelphia who spoke publicly against the evils of slavery. Her relationship with Billy and Elijah is my creation.
A few final notes: In developing this story, the symbiotic relationship between Billy and Elijah became an important theme; when one stumbled, the other carried. Both young men
are challenged mentally; Billy, by his simplemindedness, and Elijah, by his view of the world shaped by the brutality and confinements of slavery. Finally, it is important to recognize that Billy's Laird's desertion was not unique in and of itself. It was a tragedy played out at home. For me, the collective belief that Laird was of limited intelligence only made his story more poignant.
About the Author
Jean Mary Flahive has always had a keen interest in American history. Born in Maine to a military family, she grew up all over the United States, lived for a while in Canada, and spent her childhood summers in New England.
She received a degree in political science from the University of New Hampshire and a master's degree in public administration from Pepperdine University. Her career includes owning a store in Albuquerque, New Mexico, teaching at the college level as well as serving as a dean of student services, and working as a grant writer, fundraiser, and project developer. She has worked closely with the Passamaquoddy Tribe in Maine. She is a member of the Board of Trustees of the University of Maine System and has won numerous awards for her work and community service.
She enjoys hiking, kayaking, orienteering, reading, and writing. She and her husband live in Falmouth and Eastport, Maine.
Billy Boy
is her first novel.