Tim brushed past the bright red wheels of a gleaming carriage and for a moment he looked into the face of a woman in the back seat. She was about his mother’s age and dressed in black. Her face was beautiful and filled with sadness.
Now the urchins who followed the prisoners were joined by others led by a dark-haired older boy. They screamed and taunted. They threw pebbles as they surged along the sidewalks and into the street ahead of the prisoners’ line of march. The sergeant of the guard was flushed with anger. When the leader of the gang began to taunt the prisoners the sergeant grasped the boy’s collar, tearing the shirt right off his back. “Next time I’ll give you the bayonet,” the sergeant said.
The boy grabbed his shredded shirt from the dirty stones and ran ahead with his gang behind him to the shelter of a narrow street. The sergeant and the other guards watched as they passed the street. All at once the boys appeared again and pelted the column with stones. A mean-faced Rebel corporal was hit in the leg, and he and the sergeant, with another guard, dashed after the boys as they scattered like quicksilver into the alleys and doorways of the dingy street.
Greene’s face showed his excitement as the column was left with just one guard. Tim grabbed Greene’s arm. “This is no time to think of escape. Charleston is a cul-de-sac. They could seal off this peninsula easier than closing a cracker box.”
Greene relaxed. “Never even crossed my mind,” he said with a smile.
CHAPTER SIX
The prisoners were shouted to a halt beside a two-story depot with a turreted top and moss-covered walls. An old man poked his head out of one of the upper windows and glared at the sergeant through steel-rimmed spectacles. “Sit them down,” he squawked. “The train won’t be here for quite a spell. Just got it over the telegraph.”
“Where’s the Home Guard, granddaddy? We want to get back to the barracks for dinner.”
“They’re with the train,” the old man said and shut the window.
In front of the building three Negro women had set up shop. They sat on the steps, their bright cotton dresses, straw hats and shawls gleaming in the sun, oranges and yams and figs and shrimp in baskets and wooden bowls ranged around their feet. “Gentlemen, buy here!” one of them called. “Fruits and vegetables, molasses cakes. We still have tobacco and a few cigars.”