In Freedom's Shadow, page 23
“There is,” he said. “But I don’t want to take it.”
“Why not? We’re making good time this way.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t want to get there too soon.”
“Too soon for what?”
“Too soon for the Federals to see us. If the sun’s not up, they won’t know who’s yelling at them. They might think it’s some kind of trap and stay away.”
“Oh.”
“Worse,” he added, “there might be Confederate pickets guarding that road. We don’t want to stumble into them in the dark.”
Marie considered his logic for a moment, then made a sound that seemed to imply agreement. However, she said, “Are you sure you’re not just trying to lure me into the woods in the dark?”
“Why, Marie Scobell,” he replied. “I cannot believe you’d suggest I’m capable of such skullduggery.”
She gave him a quick hug. Before pulling away, she whispered in his ear, “I know all the things you’re capable of.”
They slipped off into the woods. Scobell still clenched her hand tightly in his.
Picking their way downhill through the forest, they eventually found another deadfall to hide under. Huddled together against the predawn chill, they tried to rest, but neither could. The night’s cold, combined with the excitement of being so close to escape, was too much to allow sleep to come.
Instead, they talked. In barely audible whispers, they did their best to catch up and somehow erase the seven-year gap in their relationship. Scobell told her of his first mission through the South and how he’d discovered that the Confederates were using the cipher disc to encode messages. He recounted his narrow escape from the Celeste, and the tragic night when Simon’s betrayal resulted in his own death and scarred Matchett for life.
Marie listened quietly through most of the tale, although she gasped and covered her mouth when she heard of Simon’s violent end.
“It’s so sad about Simon,” she whispered when he’d finished.
“Matchett is a brutal man,” Scobell replied.
“I meant Simon betraying you like that. Not just you, but all the others from the Loyal League.”
“He hated me for a long time. In some strange way, he came to blame me for Mater Scobell selling him and his family off. And for every bad thing that happened because of that.”
Marie looked away from him. “I never told you this, but Simon came sparking after me at one time. I told him I wasn’t interested. Then a few months later, I met you. There was never anything between him and me, but I think he was still jealous when I married you.”
“One more reason for him to despise me, I guess,” said Scobell.
“Still, to lead Matchett to you like that…”
“I don’t think he knew their full intent. I’m sure Matchett gave him a few dollars for his information. They probably told him I’d be arrested and punished, and the other Loyal League men would be let go.”
“Still,” she said, shaking her head.
“It’s surprising what some people will do for the promise of money,” he said. “Or out of hatred.”
She reached over and gently squeezed his biceps. “It’s surprising what some people will do for love, too.” He felt the warmth spread inside him again.
It was Marie’s turn to talk. Avoiding any more discussion of Landry, she focused on her time in Richmond. She talked of the other workers she’d known at Tredegar. She’d interacted mostly with other blacks in bondage at the factory, but also with a few white laborers.
“They were alright, I guess,” she said of the whites who toiled alongside them on the factory floor. “They didn’t much care to talk to us, but they might’ve just been afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“General Anderson runs that place hard. They didn’t whip us much, but you best not get caught chatting when you should be working. I don’t think they liked the black and white workers getting friendly with each other.”
“Easier to control both groups that way,” Scobell observed.
“Exactly,” she said. “Better for management to keep us apart and looking over our shoulders.”
“They had people there watching us every minute, too,” she added. “There was one fellow that sat up on a balcony looking out over the factory. He had a pair of field glasses he used to scan all the workers and make sure we weren’t slacking.”
“Really? He was using field glasses inside?”
“I guess he didn’t want to miss anything. We started calling him The Hawk because of the way he was always spying on us from up there. He was tall and skinny, and sort of awkward looking, so the name fit him.”
“What did he do if he saw something he didn’t like? Did he handle the punishment?”
“Oh, no,” Marie said. “The Hawk would never get his hands dirty. He’d just run to General Anderson and tattle. Then the general would have his security men handle the punishment.”
“I met Anderson,” said Scobell, quickly relaying the details of the dinner party at the general’s house. “Seemed like a wonderful gentleman,” he added drily.
“A real peach,” she agreed. “The Hawk loved him, though. Followed him everywhere when the general was walking around the ironworks. It was funny to see because The Hawk was so tall and he had this funny way of shuffling along behind with these big, old feet.”
A flicker of recognition jolted him. “Do you know this Hawk’s real name?” he asked.
Startled by his sudden urgency, Marie paused to think. Not waiting for her to respond, Scobell pressed. “Tall and thin, in his thirties? Oil-slicked hair and mustache?”
“That could be him,” she intoned. “I never really saw him up close. John, what is this? What’s wrong?”
“Think hard,” he pressed. “Did you ever hear his name?”
Marie grew quiet for several seconds. Suddenly, she snapped, “It was Joseph!”
Then, in unison, they said, “Samuel Joseph.”
CHAPTER 29
Scobell leaned back and blew out a long breath.
“I knew it,” he said. “There was just something wrong about him.”
“You know him?”
“He reached out to Brackett, claiming to be another Union operative. He told her Pinkerton had sent him to help us escape after they captured Webster.”
“That’s definitely not true,” Marie said. “He worked at Tredegar before I started there. That’s nearly a year now.”
“He has to be working for Winder and Matchett,” Scobell replied. He turned over the scenarios in his head.
“He was Anderson’s toady, spying on the workforce at Tredegar,” he continued, thinking out loud. “When they found out Scully, Lewis, Webster, and Warne were spies, it revealed the identities of Matchett’s detectives, too. Their names were even in the newspapers.”
“Yes,” she said. “I remember that. A few workers at Tredegar even mentioned that detectives had been at the factory before.”
“That’s not too surprising,” he said, the pieces falling into place. “Anderson is close with Winder and Matchett. That’s why they showed up at his house the night Brackett and I were there. He was one of the first people they alerted when they found out about the spies.”
“Winder and Matchett needed someone else to spy for them,” said Marie, catching on to the thread Scobell was pulling. “Someone who wouldn’t be recognized as part of their detective force.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Lewis and Scully must’ve blown on us and told them we were spying in Richmond.”
He stopped for a moment and thought back to the point when Brackett introduced him to Joseph. The Matchett spy – The Hawk, as Marie called him – hadn’t seemed to realize Scobell was anything other than Brackett’s actual slave.
“They told him Brackett was spying in Richmond, at least,” he added. “Once Matchett found that out, he realized he needed a new face to play the role of a sympathetic spy sent from by Pinkerton to help. So Matchett, or maybe Winder, went to their friend Anderson to ask for a volunteer.”
“And who better to send on a spying mission than someone who spends all day watching over other people?” Marie asked rhetorically.
“They wouldn’t need Joseph to do much,” Scobell said. “Just cozy up to Brackett a little to determine how much she knew about Confederate operations, and whether there were any more operatives in Richmond they didn’t know about.”
“I’ll bet The Hawk said yes even before Anderson finished asking,” Marie said emphatically. “Besides being a sneaky son of a bitch, he’d do anything for the general – as long as it didn’t put him in any personal danger.”
“I’m sure they all thought tricking a young woman who’s alone in an enemy city, with her circle of associates already collapsing, would be as safe as a trip to the store,” replied Scobell.
“It looks like they were right.”
“Yes. It does look that way.”
They both fell silent. Finally, Marie asked, “Are you worried about her?”
“Why should I be?” he said, a hard edge discernible in his tone even at a whisper. “She’s a grown woman who needs to take care of herself. I tried to tell her not to trust Joseph and she wouldn’t listen. That’s her problem, not mine.”
Marie laid her head against his shoulder and gently ran her hand across the banded muscles of his chest. “I’m glad you’re here with me instead of back there in that nest of vipers,” she said.
“I am, too,” he said, squeezing her close. “We have a couple more hours before daylight. Let’s try to get a little rest.”
Marie was soon asleep on his shoulder. Her soft snores reminded him of a purring cat.
Scobell dozed only fitfully. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed again of swimming across the Potomac, with skeletal Union soldiers once more clawing at his legs and arms.
Staring down into the black depths of the river, he saw that one skeleton wasn’t a soldier at all. As the wraith sank toward the bottom, he saw it wore a widow’s black dress and bonnet. Long, blonde hair trailed out the back.
◆◆◆
The couple rose at the first hint of light in the eastern sky. Silently, they stretched their limbs until the blood returned.
Scobell led the way downhill from their hiding spot until the wide expanse of the Potomac was visible below them. From there, he turned right and guided Marie parallel to the river, remaining concealed by the wooded hillside.
The eastern sky was turning from pink to orange by the time they stopped. Though the landscape’s features weren’t yet discernable, a large mass of land was visible on the Potomac’s north bank. They could see flickering light from campfires and bobbing lanterns across the river as the soldiers rose to start their day.
Hunkering in the brush on the south bank, Scobell pointed toward the moving lights. “That’s the Federal camp at Smith’s Point. That’s where we need to go.”
Turning his attention to the open riverbank in front of them, he whispered, “First, we have to make sure there aren’t any Secesh troops on this side.” He grinned at Marie and added, “Wouldn't do to come all this way and get caught five feet from freedom, right?”
She tried to smile back, but it didn’t quite penetrate the look of concern on her face.
“You stay here and keep out of sight,” he said. “I’m going to climb up on that little knob right there.” He pointed at a small rise just above them.
“From there, I should be able to see the whole riverbank. By the time I get up there, it’ll be light enough to see if there are any troops on this side of the river.”
Marie said nothing, but gripped his hand with the strength of a vise. The lines of worry deepened across her face. “It’ll be alright,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.”
He thought for a moment, then added, “If anything bad happens, run for the river. Head for Smiths Point and start yelling for help. Those Yankee soldiers should row out to help you if you make enough noise.” He didn’t bother to address what would happen if they didn’t.
He gave her hand a last squeeze, then pulled free and slipped up the hill. Moving silently as a deer, he picked his way carefully up to the little rise. Once there, he lay down on his belly and eased forward through the sticks and leaves. Within a couple minutes, he was in a spot where he could scan the entire riverfront for a half-mile in each direction.
It wasn’t quite full daylight, but it was bright enough to detect motion along the river’s edge. Definitely enough light to see whether a troop of Confederate soldiers was camped directly across from their enemy counterparts.
There were none. Other than a half-dozen mallards paddling quietly in the shallows near the shore, there wasn’t a hint of movement. He waited another ten minutes to be sure. It required a forcible effort, overcoming the impatience that welled within him from being this close.
At last, convinced that there were no Confederates nearby, he left his perch and scrambled back down the hillside to Marie. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her wrist and almost forcibly lifting her out of her hiding spot. “It’s time.”
They clambered down to the water’s edge, then moved to a spot where the brush parted to create an opening for an ancient, disused wagon trail. Scobell cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Halloo! Halloo the camp!”
Marie quickly chimed in as well. “Halloo, Yankees! Halloo over there!”
After a few seconds, the sounds of metal equipment clinking drifted across the water to them. A shout of “Who’s there?” replied.
“We’s a husband and wife!” Scobell hollered. “Done escaped from the Rebs and wants to come across.” Then he added what he hoped would be the magic word: “Contraband!”
Seizing on the term, Marie repeated, “Contraband! Help us!”
They could see a small knot of blue-coated soldiers forming on the opposite bank. One of them pulled out a pair of field glasses and aimed them at Scobell and Marie. Arms gestured toward the couple, followed by agitated discussion among the men.
At last, the voice called out again, “Are you alone?”
“Yes, suh!” John yelled back. “Jus’ the two of us, suh! We jus’ wants to get North.”
“Please, suh!” Marie chimed in, “Please, help us. We don’t wanna be slaves no mo’.” Scobell wondered how much of the urgency in her voice was playacting and how much was real.
“How do we know you’re not bait?” the soldier shouted. “That some damn Secesh aren’t gonna start shooting at us if we row over to get you?”
Scobell was growing frustrated…and worried. While there were no Confederate troops in the immediate area when he’d scouted it, they couldn’t stand here all day. The shouting was going to attract attention eventually.
“Please, suh. It jus’ us, me and my wife!” he yelled back. “Please come save us! We wants to be contrabands!”
This time, he questioned how much of the quaver in his own voice might be real.
Marie’s voice rang out again, with even more desperation this time. “Please help us! Please, suh, come and gets us. Contraband! We wants Uncle Abe to save us!”
When he glanced over at her, she raised her eyebrows and turned up her palms as if to say, I’m trying anything I can think of.
They could see the group of soldiers deliberating once again on the far shore. In that moment, in a conversation they were no part of, their fates would be decided.
Finally, they saw one of the blue-clad soldiers cup his hands to his mouth. “Stay right there!” he hollered. They watched as three other soldiers moved up the bank. They untied a rowboat and dragged it down to the river’s edge.
“Oh, thank god,” he heard Marie say under her breath.
“Thank you, suh!” John yelled back. “Thank you, Lawd!”
It took nearly thirty minutes for them to get the boat launched and row across the river. Two soldiers pulled on the oars. Two more sat, one in front and one in back, with their rifles trained on the south bank.
They slowed nearly to a stop about fifty yards offshore, scanning the riverbank cautiously for a surprise attack. Spotting no Confederates, they resumed rowing. The hull of the wooden boat soon crunched in the gravel as it reached the southern shore of the Potomac.
The soldier in the bow quickly hopped out and tugged the boat up the bank. Rifle in hand, he scanned the hillside once more, then turned his attention to Marie and Scobell.
“Get in,” he commanded. “Let’s go!” He continued to watch the surrounding ridge, his back to the boat.
Marie stepped forward to the bow of the rowboat. The two rowers dropped their oars and came forward to help her. Scobell lifted her over the gunwale and into their arms. They got her settled on one of the plank seats.
The soldier guarding the operation motioned to Scobell. “Help me shove us off,” he said.
The two men put their shoulders against the hull of the boat, and it eased off the gravel. The soldier nimbly hopped over the gunwale, then turned and reached a hand over the side to help Scobell aboard.
Standing in water up to his shins, Scobell ignored the extended hand. Instead, he put both hands against the boat’s bow and gave it a hard shove, pushing it out into the swirling current of the Potomac.
“John, no!” Marie exclaimed as she realized what was happening.
“I have to,” he said, staring into her eyes. Remembering his cover, he added, “Gots to go back. Gots to help.”
“No!” It was all she could muster.
“You gets yourself to Washington, Marie. You gets there and I’ll come for you. I’ll find you. I swears it.”
“I understand,” she said. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and rolled down the curve of her cheek. “I’ll sees you there.”
“You will,” he said, but he wasn’t sure she heard him over the splash of the river and the creaking of the oarlocks as the soldiers rowed away.
CHAPTER 30
It took Scobell five nights to get back to Richmond.
