Chapter 2

The Diary of Lucius Williamson, Esq. Baltimore, Maryland

February 9, 1862

War has come to Baltimore! I am afraid, and yet I must not be afraid because they look to me to be strong. Momma Simms and Ruby. Every eye on the Great Lucius Williamson! Ha! I do not feel strong, or brave, or great. I feel afraid. And I am ashamed of how I feel at this moment.

I gazed out at the wide river as it flowed ever outward, churning white foam into the night sky. The foam looks like snow falling up to Heaven. Momma Simms always told me that the Rain is God’s tears flowing down for his lost people, but the foam going up is our offering to him! She said we were lost like the Israelites.

Perhaps. But no matter. Nothing will stop the fog of war. It was inevitable, I think. Whites who fight for us, and Whites who fight against us. The enemy is all around, and I think I will never fully trust them.

I heard footsteps. Many footsteps. I turned away from the river, melting into the shadows until I could determine the level of danger I faced. To be a Negro, educated lawyer or not, was still to be a Negro. Dangerous business in these times. Whistles and shouting. A party of men rushed by. Then several wagons. As I tried to make sense of this commotion, I smelled the flames, a structure burning somewhere off the pier. Dragon fire illuminated the sky, casting a creeping red glow over the earth. How did I not notice the fire?

I gathered my coat around me and headed back to the house. My sister Ruby would be in a fuss by now waiting on me. Oh, how I dreaded that conversation! When Ruby was in a mood, Ruby was in a mood. A gift from our late Mother, God rest her soul; taken too young from this life. Ruby and I were only ten when Mother passed from pneumonia. It was God’s grace that Momma Simms showed us love, taking in two strange children without any kin. A debt we are forever grateful for. The very reason I became a lawyer was to help Momma Simms and others who run the boarding houses that Ruby, myself, and so many others called home.

I walked slowly, avoiding people, sticking to the shadows. Something strange was in the air, but what I did not know.

As I walked the sound of crying reached my ears. The crying of a child. There were many street urchins in Baltimore of course, but very few near the docks. I looked around, searching for the source of the crying. Then, in the gloom, I saw a shape. Small and curled up near a row of barrels. As I suspected, a young White boy of about seven. Just as I started to call out, I sensed, rather than saw, something emerge from the shadows. A man-sized shadow seeming to flow from the darkness like water into a river.

I stopped midstride as my insides froze. I felt an uncomprehending, primal fear. I have been afraid a good portion of my life, but this was fear at its most basic. Paralyzing, debilitating fear. The shadow motioned to the boy, lifting one long arm as it did. In turn, the boy stood, turning to the shadow. His gaze far away as if in a dream.

My mind began to scream that I needed to do something, but I was rooted to the ground. Unable to move, or speak, or cry out. As I watched in helpless agony, the shadow glided forward, closer and closer to the child, until it towered over him. Now my heart hammered in my chest, threatening to explode from my ribcage. The shadow reached out with lightning speed, snatching the child by the top of the head, pulling him away into the darkness.

The second the shadow dissipated I was able to move again. I fell to my knees, weakened from fear and exertion. I stumbled over to the barrels looking for the child but found only empty space. The patch of shadowy darkness from where the abomination sprang no more than the side of a warehouse building. I twisted this way and that, wondering if my mind had let loose. Not a trace. Confused, I walked back in the direction of the house, this time casting furtive glances at every dark patch of beckoning darkness as I did.

******

I hurried through the front door, glad to shut the darkness outside and drink in the warmth of hearth and home. I heard the voices of several borders talking and laughing in the main room. I often conversed with them, smiling at their rowdy tales of drinking, fighting, traveling, and working. Always told with a wink and smile. But, tonight, I wanted nothing more than to lay upon my bed and drift away, forgetting the impossibility of this night.

February 10

Upon waking the next morning, the events of the night before seemed naught but a faraway dream. I stared at my reflection for several moments, appraising myself. It is not often I do this, but I supposed I searched for slivers of madness to be present. Had I dreamed last night’s events? Of course!

The world was still as black and white as ever. There were good and evil men in this world. The supernatural did not hold sway with me. I had based my stock in logic, rules, procedures of the court, argument and persuasion. These were my weapons, and my weapons are oh so sharp indeed!

I allowed myself a small smile, then shaved, dressed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen to sup with Momma Simms. It has been our custom to eat breakfast early before most others have risen. It is a tradition both of us enjoyed and rarely missed. As soon as I entered the room Momma Simms frowned at me, her weathered brown face full of wisdom and love, but shrewd as any White banker uptown.

“What’s botherin’ you this morn Lucius? Don’t see any of your normal lawyer

sass.”

“Nothing.” I replied, knowing as soon as the words left my mouth Momma

Simms would see the lie attached. I could never hide anything from this gentle, powerful woman. She lived through a life of slavery, birthed thirteen children, lost eight, helped run the Underground Railroad for a time, fought the Night Riders, and more that I would not ever know.

Momma Simms could see right through me.

“I saw something last night…I think I saw something. A child. Little White boy, down by the harbour. He was crying. I started to call out to him. He was there, and then he was not there. On my life, I could not account for why he seemed to vanish.”

The words felt heavy just speaking them. Momma Simms was silent for a long time. She sipped her bitter coffee, took out her tobacco tin, rolled a thin cigar, lit it with a match, then puffed out smoke rings toward the ceiling. When I was a young man this ritual would madden me to no end, but in time I learned to be patient. I believe this was the lesson I needed to learn, and still do. Patience was not an easy endeavor for me. The world marches by at such a pace that I could ill afford it to pass me.

“You seen her ‘eh?” Momma Simms said after a long puff. I was confused.

“Saw whom Momma Simms?”

“M’lady.”

I drank from my coffee, waiting for her to finish. I realized that if we were playing cards I would lose. I did not have the ability to bluff or pretend. My direct speech served me well as a lawyer where I could dictate terms, negotiate contracts, or cite the law. Less so in dealing with people. Momma Simms continued to stare at me so I played along best I could.

“Who is M’lady?”

“M’lady of the Docks. Can’t believe you never heard of her ‘afore Lucius. People been knowin’ ‘bout her for some time up this way. Heard tell that on seeing her, children take to disappearing. Never seen her myself of course, but that’s what I hear.”

“Some woman kidnaps children at the docks? I do not understand Momma Simms. Kidnapping, while abhorrent, is just a crime that can be prosecuted like all others.”

I chewed on a piece of toast with some egg. So delicious, as usual.

“What is so special about this M’lady”

Momma Simms leaned forward in her chair, her prodigious belly pushing the table my direction.

“M’lady been wandering the docks for years. Mostly just looking out at the river for something she can’t never find. What it is no one can say. She don’t bother nobody, ‘cept if she look you directly in the eye. She let’s out a shriek like from the pits of hell. Freeze your blood to the marrah. That’s what I hear.”

“A ghost? Some kind of spirit? Is that what you are telling me Momma Simms? That some ghost wanders the harbour, staring out at the water, and wailing if you look at her?”

Momma Simms nodded her head as if she had just presented a grand argument to the state board of litigators.

“Quiet as it’s kept.” She said.

And with that, she stood and proceeded to add to the breakfast spread since the regular boarders would be down soon.

I could not think of an appropriate retort to Momma Simms, so I left the topic, drank the remainder of my coffee, and kissed her forehead.

“I am off to the office. It will be a long day, so please do not wait for me.”

Momma Simms shrugged. “Ain’t me you got to tell that too.” Her eyes looked over my shoulder and I knew my sister Ruby was standing behind me, glaring I assumed, at my back.

I turned and was rewarded by being correct.

Ruby. My twin sister, older than me by five minutes. Or, as she liked to say, Five minutes, and lifetimes older!

I had to admit though, in truth, Ruby was older than I was, and possessed wisdom beyond her years. I believe that is why she and Momma Simms got along so well. They were like shades of the same person, which was a mystery to me since they were not blood kin. Ruby glided across the room and loomed over me. Even though I was taller by several inches, Ruby seemed to grow when she was trying to intimidate me.

I stared at her face, dark as chocolate, with a grin as wide as the moon, and a tiny gap between her front teeth. Ruby was as beautiful as what I imagined African skies to be. I loved my sister with a ferocity I could not always verbalize, and she exuded the same toward me. Neither Heaven nor Hell could separate Ruby and me from each other, although sometimes that closeness fostered irritation in me since she was always right, in her mind.

“Lu, where were you last night? As I recall, you promised to be home before eight o’clock so we could visit Ms. Wilhelmina as I recall. At the nine-thirty mark, I realized you were intent on standing her up, so I sent one of the boys over to give your apologies. I must admit though when you remarked how lovely she looked last Sunday at church, and how nice it would be to sit and have breakfast or supper, and how quaint it was that I was personal friends with her, that you would at least have the good sense to follow through on what I set up for you dear brother!”

Ruby did not really shout at me. But the intention and clarity of her conviction to shake me out of my doldrums was as forceful as if she had shouted it. I could feel the sting of her rebuke as acutely as the sting from a honey bee. So, I managed the best retort I could though…

“I forgot.”

Ruby’s stare cut me to ribbons. As she walked over to the stove to grab some breakfast, I noticed how slow she moved. And, I noticed her hands. Her fingers were starting to curl inward a bit like Momma Simms, except my sister was still a young woman. Working in that damnable shoe factory was taking a toll on Ruby, but of course, she was too proud to complain. So, she suffered in silence and it pained me to think that one day soon she very well might lose the use of her hands if she continued to work there.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3