Union soldiers fighting in the South. What’s more, the failure of European crops produced a demand for American grain five times the amount shipped in the years before.
The port bustled with activity as two-thirds of the country’s exports and one-third of its imports were transported in and out. At the East River, swarms of people came to see the graceful clipper ships loading in their berths. At Piers 8, 9, and 10, the fleet of seventy ships owned by William T. Coleman & Company, one of the principal shipping merchants in New York, was laden with goods, sailing the seas between East and West. At the helm of the business, along with William T. Coleman, was Edward Mott Robinson. After selling most of his interest in his whaling fleet, in June 1860 he removed his Quaker brim and turned it in for a top hat, investing his money in the New York company. An advertisement in the newspapers announcedhe had become a partner in the prominent firm.
W hile New York rallied, New Bedford marshaled its residents. When the former governor of Massachusetts spoke on the steps of City Hall, the citizens united against the Confederates, and despite the Quakers’ resistance to war, New Bedford gave its all. Rachel Grinnell helped organize the Ladies’ Soldiers’ Relief Society and asked her younger cousin Hetty to help collect drugs, cotton cloth and flannel shirts, wool mittens and socks, lemons, apples, jellies, coffee and tea, brandies and wine, and money for the troops.
As the women assembled the goods, 3,200 New Bedford men went off to fight, and the city’s ships sailed out to sea. But two dozen vessels were blown up by the Confederates, and in the summer of 1861 thirty whaling barques were commandeered by the Union Navy to use for a blockade. While the townspeople stood at the wharfs and bade a teary farewell, the ships were loaded with stones and sent off to the southern seaports. When they reached Atlanta and Charleston, they were sunk in the harbor channels. The boats served as a barrier to prevent the South from shipping goods to Europe, and, as Edward Robinson predicted, they were a symbol of the end of whaling.
While New England soldiers fought in the South, Hetty Robinson struggled up north. As the sole heir to the Howland money, she hadbeen caught for years between her father and her aunt in their tug-of-war over the family fortune. With Sylvia growing more frail, Hetty wanted to be sure that, upon her aunt’s passing, she received her rightful due.
Sylvia’s illness may have made her physically fragile, but as her health deteriorated and her dependence on others grew, her desire for power increased. She wielded her weakness like a witch waving a wand: banishing enemies here, bribing others with gold dust there. In her constant game of manipulation, she threatened to cut off those she could not control and paid off those she needed most.
Sylvia had given her niece a gift of $20,000 in stocks, but as Hetty knew, this was a minor sum for a woman whose wealth ran to many hundreds of thousands of dollars. In theory, all that money would go to her. But after her grandfather left her with nothing, after her mother died intestate, and after her father disputed her claims, Hetty had to protect her Howland inheritance. She had to make certain the money was hers. It wasn’t just a question of finance: it was the only proof she had of her worth and the only sense she had of their love.
Her relationship with Sylvia was complex, even precarious: at times she was her aunt’s closest companion, at other times her contentious prey. Traumatized by rejection, Hetty constantly tested Sylvia’s love, but as much as Sylvia may have tried to give it, Hetty pushed for more. Her behavior confounded her aunt.
Although Sylvia saw herself as a surrogate mother with Hetty’s best interests at heart, her patience ran short and her empathy was limited. She often criticized Hetty, complained about her to friends, and was wary of
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