Confederate Money. Paul Varnes
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I expected at any minute that Ma was going to tell me I couldn’t go but she never did. Touching our heels to our horses, we loped off until screened by the woods. We then slowed to a steady walk toward Pensacola. As we rode, I began to understand why they hadn’t made a fuss about me going. I was the insurance that Henry would come back. Lilly had set her bonnet for him.
Two days before reaching Tallahassee we were joined by six women and nine children who were also on their way to Tallahassee. Their men off to war, and concerned about Federal forces raiding the coast, the women were seeking a safe inland haven to sit out the war. They thought the war would be over in a few weeks and they could go back home. Thinking their plight temporary, the women were lighthearted and fun to be around. Since they were not carrying much in the way of food, we wound up feeding them for a couple of days. Those were the first refugees we encountered. I frequently thought of them later when seeing other refugees who were not so lighthearted.
Another thing of note happened as we skirted Tallahassee to avoid encountering the Confederate troops garrisoned there. The night after parting company with the group of women, we ran into a drummer and camped overnight with him. The drummer had an old medical bag in his wagon.
Henry didn’t say anything about the bag that night but the next morning he said to the drummer, “I’ve got a friend in Cedar Key that’s a physician. Do you mind if I look at the bag?”
Of course the drummer didn’t mind and Henry looked in it. There were all kinds of instruments in the bag. There was also a half-pint bottle of laudanum and a small bottle of chloroform concealed under a false bottom.
“How long have you had this bag?” Henry asked.
“Several weeks,” the drummer said.
“How much did it set you back?”
“Three dollars.”
“Confederate paper I hope. It’s not worth more than two dollars in silver or Florida paper money.”
The drummer laughed and said, “It was Confederate paper.”
Henry said, “I’ve only got two dollars and forty cents in silver coin, but I can’t leave us broke. I’ll give you two silver dollars for the bag and contents.”
There aren’t many buyers for old medical bags so the drummer said, “Make it the two dollars and forty in silver and it’s a deal.”
Henry said, “I can’t do it. That would leave us flat broke. I’ll make it two dollars and twenty-five cents, and that’s it.”
That’s when we really got into the physician business. I guess Henry momentarily forgot about the other four dollars in his pocket.
A Confederate paper dollar was worth ninety cents in silver or Florida paper money at the time. As is well known now, Confederate money was printed with nothing to back it up but the good will of the Confederate government. It was to be redeemed two years after the Confederate states signed a treaty of peace with the United States of America. The Federal government declared a dollar per barrel tax on beer to help finance the war for the North. The Confederate government borrowed from the Southern states and printed money to finance their side. Though we couldn’t have known it at the time, there was never a real plan for how to pay the states back, or how to finance the redeeming of the Confederate paper money.
When Florida seceded from the Union, the Florida government confiscated all Federal land in Florida. The state then printed Florida paper money against the value of the public lands. Land, at that time, was valued at ten cents to one dollar and twenty-five cents an acre, depending on where it was located. Because it had the value of land to back it up, Florida paper money was just as valuable as silver. It held its value through much of the war. Confederate paper money, with nothing to back it up, didn’t. Actually, all eleven Southern states printed their own money. They planned to make it good in various ways.
Three days after purchasing the medical bag we came to an isolated farmhouse north of Blountstown. It was just a house in the woods. There wasn’t much of a farm there. Having talked frequently about home cooking, we decided to ride in and beg, or buy, some home-cooked food. Two barking dogs met us eighty yards from the house. The bluetick coonhounds looked harmless enough. As we approached the house with the blueticks yapping around us, a woman in her late twenties stepped out the front door with a shotgun across her arm. Even at forty yards I could see the hammer was back. A small boy of ten or twelve stepped out behind her with a squirrel rifle across his arm. Pulling his horse up, Henry raised his right hand. I followed suit. Henry spoke, but couldn’t be heard over the dogs so the boy came forward and quieted them.
“We’re a physician and his assistant on our way to Pensacola. We’re looking for a warm meal and friendly greeting along the way,” Henry said.
“Coon, tie those dogs. Are you a real physician?” the woman asked.
Without saying anything, Henry lifted his bag. The initials on it were H.W. That was when he temporarily took the name Henry Watson. I had learned to keep my mouth shut, as hard as it might be to believe, and was whoever he introduced me as. He said it might prevent complications down the road.
The woman, Ella Mae, got Henry’s mare’s bridle and tied her up in front of the house.
“I’ve got a sick child, please help me with her,” she was saying, tears in her eyes. “She’s not sick right now, but she gets down with tonsillitis every couple of weeks. It’s getting more frequent and is worse every time. She’ll probably choke to death next time. I don’t know a doctor and don’t have any money. Please help us.”
Henry replied, “A little hope is better than no hope at all.”
He was talking to me but she didn’t know it.
Taking his medical bag, Henry walked in just like a doctor on call. The girl, Mary, looked well enough at the moment.
Summoning me to his side, Henry said, “Benjamin, look down her throat.”
He knew my name was just plain Ben, but I looked. There wasn’t any infection, and her forehead was cool.
“We’re going to try to help you out. You have to help us out by being brave. Why, you have the same beautiful blue eyes as your mother,” Henry said to the girl.
He was already looking in her eyes and ears, and passing out the smooth talk. I could almost smell the chicken frying. Strangely enough, Henry really looked like a doctor.
“Stand outside and face the sunlight so we can see what we’re doing,” Henry told the girl.
I turned to him and whispered, “Are you crazy? We can’t take her tonsils out.”
“Sure we can. It tells about it in the book. I’ve had mine out. I was awake and watched most of it. Also, they need to come out now while they aren’t infected. They can’t be taken out while they’re swollen.” he said.
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