She almost jumped out of her skin when her front door knocker was rapped, but it was a polite-sounding knock. With her loaded pistol in her left hand and concealed in the folds of her gown, she warily opened the door. A harried-looking man dressed as a clerk bowed slightly. “I’m Mr. Williams from the Treasury Department, ma’am. We’re trying to move as many records as we can out of the city. Do you have a horse and wagon my department can borrow? I’ll give you a receipt.”
Grateful that her household had left for Baltimore the morning after Callie had received news of the British landing, she said, “I’m sorry, my horses and cart are in Baltimore with my family.”
He sighed. “A wise decision, but I wish you had more horses and wagons!” He touched the brim of his hat. “You stay safe, ma’am.”
“You also, Mr. Williams.” She closed the door. He wasn’t the first to come by foraging for transportation for vital documents, but he might be the last.
She’d told her two young seamstresses to stay home with their families. Many of the few people left in town were women like herself who were staying in the hope that they could save their homes. It wasn’t a vain wish. Several women in towns around the Chesapeake had been able to persuade British officers not to torch their homes. It was worth the risk of her remaining here.
She was sewing trim on a gown when she heard shouting outside. Again she opened the door, and saw a battered militia officer trotting down the street. Seeing her, he called, “There’s been a battle at Bladensburg and the British routed us! They could be here in a matter of hours, so lock your doors and pray!”
Now that the danger was imminent, she felt surprisingly calm. She’d never been good at waiting. After locking her front door, she left the house through the kitchen and walked quickly down the side street to bring the news to her friend Edith Turner, an older widow who had been the first to welcome Callie to the city. With invasion imminent, Edith had taken in several elderly friends who didn’t have the strength to evacuate.
She answered the door at Callie’s first knock, her face worried. “There’s news?”
“Yes, a militiaman reported that the British routed our forces at Bladensburg.”
Edith gasped. “That’s only a few miles away!”
“The militiaman said to lock our doors and pray,” Callie said grimly. She gave her friend a swift hug. “That’s good advice. Stay safe, Edith!”
Her friend hugged her back. “You also, my dear.”
As Callie returned to the safety of her own solid brick home, she heard a booming explosion to the east, in the direction of the battle. At a guess, American forces had blown up another bridge to slow the British advance. Wryly she wondered if Americans were doing more damage to their capital than the British would have done.
Half an hour or so later, she peered out her front curtains and saw retreating militiamen trickling past. One looked over and saw the movement of her curtain. He spoke to the young man next to him, and the two turned in to her front walk. More knocking. They looked more frightened than threatening, so she opened the door, though once more she kept her pistol handy.
“Ma’am.” The taller of the two young men coughed, then started again. “Ma’am, could we have some water? Please? Me and my brother are like to keel over.”
“Of course. Get in the shade of that tree and I’ll bring you some,” she replied.
Guessing there would be more men needing water, she brought two full buckets and a pair of ladles. “Help yourselves. There’s more where this came from.”
“The only Americans who knew how to fight were Commodore Barney’s flotilla men,” the taller brother said bitterly after he thirstily gulped down a ladleful of water. “They been fightin’ the British Navy up and down the bay for months.Theyknew how to stand their ground! I heard some of ’em say they’d keep fighting all through the streets of Washington.”
Seeing their humiliation, Callie said quietly, “If soldiers aren’t experienced and the whole company collapses and retreats, there’s no point in individual soldiers staying to fight. Your mother wouldn’t like it if you got yourself killed for no good reason.”
“The lady is right, Jem,” the shorter brother said. “Ma would kill us again if she thought we was that stupid.” He drank deeply, then poured a ladleful of water over his head to cool himself down. “We ran today, but by God, we’ll fight again another day!”
“They’ll not take Baltimore!” Jem used the ladle to fill his empty pewter canteen. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. We’ll be on our way again. It’s a long hike north.”
Callie wished them well and refilled the water buckets, leaving them on the edge of her lawn with the ladles so other retreating soldiers could drink. Then she withdrew into her house again, pulled the curtains, and waited.
The summer days were long in August, and it wasn’t yet full dark when she heard the sound of marching men. She took her pistol in hand again. A single shot wouldn’t be of any use against an army, but she felt better for having a weapon to hand.
Needing to see, she pulled her curtains open a sliver and peered out. A group of several dozen soldiers were marching past her house with mounted officers in the lead. They were heading toward the capitol building and flying a white flag of truce.
She sighed with relief. Perhaps the British wanted to negotiate a ransom that would save the city from being destroyed.
Being female, Callie thought a ransom in return for sparing the capital was a fine idea, though she suspected that many men had too much pride to give money to the enemy even to save the city. But even if the government was willing to be reasonable, she wasn’t sure there was anyone left in Washington with the authority to negotiate.
She studied the riders. That erect man in the lead wore the insignia of a major general and was surely Robert Ross, the commander of the army forces. One of Wellington’s top generals in the Peninsular wars, he was said to be a just and honorable man who didn’t wreak havoc on civilians. But the man riding next to him . . .
She frowned. An admiral of the Royal Navy rode beside Ross. That must be George Cockburn, who had been named the most hated man in America because of his months spent slashing and burning up and down the Chesapeake Bay. He’d destroyed whole towns as punishment for American destruction in Canada.
It was said that Cockburn’s older brother had died fighting the rebels during the American Revolution, so the admiral had a very personal hatred for Americans. Callie hoped that since they were on land, General Ross had command over Cockburn.
The troops were moving in good order despite having fought and marched on a very long, hot day. The group was directly in front of her house when she heard noise from upstairs. Footsteps?
