The Women Spies Series 1-3

by Sergeant, Kit

  On the night of August 21, Loreta poured herself a glass of sherry and planted herself at the window with a pair of field glasses focused on the harbor. The Michigan was stationed in the bay with its guns trained on the island prison. Any attacking ship entering the lake would therefore have the advantage. Loreta rubbed her hands together in glee, picturing the chaos the rebels were about to cause.

  But the time for the attack came and went with Loreta observing no evidence of gunfire. Around midnight, her dismay mounting, she began pacing the floor. Eventually she exhausted herself and dozed fitfully in the chair, her head on the window, oblivious to the pain in her shoulder.

  She awoke at dawn. As the sun illuminated the still placid bay, Loreta realized that the plan to save the Confederacy had failed.

  Almost as if on cue, someone started pounding on the door. The brief thought that it might be an escaped prisoner lent a quickness to her frazzled muscles.

  She opened the door to find the chambermaid, now neatly dressed in calico, a man in a plain suit, and another in a police uniform standing in the hallway.

  Without thinking, Loreta attempted to shut the door again, but the police officer stuck out his foot and blocked it. “You are under arrest for committing treason against your country.”

  “It’s no longer my country.” Loreta’s hand resignedly dropped from the door handle.

  “But it is that of your husband’s, is it not, Mrs. De Caulp?” The woman—whom Loreta now suspected was not a chambermaid—inquired.

  “How did you know that was my name?”

  “It’s my job to know,” the woman said, entering the room. Loreta watched as she folded the clothes that were on the floor before placing them into an awaiting carpetbag.

  The plain clothed man crossed his arms across his broad chest. “There is someone I believe you will recognize at the prison we are taking you to.”

  “Oh?” Loreta asked. “And who would that be?”

  “Mr. De Caulp. I think it’s about time you two got reacquainted.”

  The woman handed the man Loreta’s bag and shot her a sympathetic smile. “If you would follow us now.”

  Loreta did as she was bid, her heart heavy that she would be forced to be in the same vicinity as Tom, especially now that she had failed in her ultimate mission.

  Chapter 69

  Belle

  August 1863

  After hearing of the death of her father, Belle wanted nothing more than to return home to Martinsburg. She wrote to every Union high-up she could think of, from Secretary Stanton to Lincoln’s personal body guard—an old family friend—to Lincoln himself. None of them responded. Finally she gave up and sent another note to Jefferson Davis to offer her services as a Confederate agent in Europe and included a reminder of the dangers she faced to smuggle “all of that gold under General Butler’s crooked nose.”

  She was rewarded for this latest effort when the same clerk that told her about her father arrived back at the Spotswood bearing introduction letters from Judah Benjamin and dispatches addressed to English dignitaries.

  “What’s that?” Belle asked as the clerk dropped a heavy carpetbag at her feet.

  He smirked. “Gold coins.”

  “Are they the ones I—”

  “No,” he replied, his smirk disappearing. “Those were used to fund a failed coup up North.”

  “Oh.” Belle’s thoughts turned to her new mission. “How will I get to Europe?”

  “The only ships that can get through the ports are the blockade runners. It’s going to be a dangerous trip. I would suggest that you not speak to anyone of your true mission and go under the guise of a civilian in case the ship is boarded.”

  “Yes, but by now everyone knows who I am, even Union officials.” Belle took a deep breath. “However, I’m prepared to do what I need to for my country.”

  Belle traveled to Wilmington, North Carolina to board the Greyhound, a light grey steamer that bore the British flag on its mast. The captain introduced himself as “Captain Henry.” Although Belle gave her name as “Mrs. Smythe,” Captain Henry recognized her anyway, and divulged that he’d known her father well. He became even more esteemed in Belle’s eyes when he pulled up his sleeve to display a scar he’d acquired while on campaign with Stonewall Jackson.

  Belle gestured toward her shoulder. “I have one from Old Capitol Prison.” She showed him the approximate size with her fingers and Captain Henry’s kind eyes widened in appreciation.

  The night was clear with a waning moon. All lights on the boat were extinguished as the anchor was pulled up around ten o’clock in the evening. No one spoke as the steam began to blow and they got underway. The main deck was covered with bales of cotton upon which men dressed in dark clothing stood with spyglasses trained on the waters before them. Belle knew getting past the blockade would be tense and indeed it was. No one thought of sleep, and the scant passengers, including Belle, sat on deck, silently praying. Any stray movements sent ice water through Belle’s veins. She hated that they would not be able to discern enemy boats in the darkness until they were upon them.

  When dawn finally started to break, Belle felt her relief rising in time with the sun—the sea was clear from horizon to horizon. Soon after, a thick haze set in, not giving way until around noon when the look-out on the mast shouted, “Sail ho!”

  Belle could feel the Greyhound speed up, and she rushed to the railing. By squinting her eyes, she could see a gunboat with the letters U. S. painted on its hull. It seemed to be gaining on them.

  As their ship tried to outrun the enemy, the deck seemed to sway under Belle’s gold coin-laden skirts. She bent over the side of the ship, her hands tight on the railing, to empty her stomach. When she’d finished, she noticed the distance between them and the Yankee gunboat had shrunk considerably. All Belle could think of was that she was about to be sent back to prison.

  The look-outs tucked their spyglasses into their coats and climbed off the bales only to commence tossing the cotton into the sea. “By damn!” one of the men called as he stared down at the drowning bounty. “That’s more of our goods they shalt not get!”

  Captain Henry paced up and down the deck, alternating between glancing at his compass and staring at the gunboat growing ever closer. “More steam, fellows!” he called. “We’ve got to give her more steam!” He clicked his compass shut upon spying Belle. “Oh Miss Boyd, but for your presence on board, I would burn her to the water’s edge than let those infernal scoundrels reap the benefit of a single strand of our cotton.”

  Belle’s stomach was still churning along with the waves, but she straightened herself as best she could. “Please, Captain Henry, do your duty and pay me no reference.” She took a woozy breath. “Burn her by all means—I am not afraid.”

  The crewmen had finished with the cotton bales and were now heaving the rest of the contraband overboard until the water below surged with medicine, tobacco, and Confederate bills.

  Belle, suddenly recalling her own contraband, rushed to the engine room below deck. She dug underneath her skirts to retrieve the hidden dispatches and tossed them into the furnace. She’d just returned above to hear Captain Henry call, “It’s too late to burn her now, men—the Yanks are upon us!” He faced the oncoming gunboat and waved his arm back and forth, shouting, “Surrender. We surrender!”

  Belle grabbed the banister as something shrieked past her head.

  “By Jove!” the captain shouted. “They show no mercy!”

  The ship slowed as a voice that seemed to come from the water commanded them to lower their flag. Captain Henry raised a defeated arm to the man on the mast and the British flag began to descend. The goods-polluted waters were now filled with rowboats being steered by men in blue uniforms. Belle retreated to her first-floor cabin, standing just inside the door so she could still hear the commotion as the Yankees began to board.

  “Good day to you, Captain,” a man’s voice called out. “I am glad to see you. This is a mighty fine v
essel you have.” Belle stepped closer to catch a glimpse of the Yank with such a polite voice. Although he wasn’t necessarily the standard of handsome, Belle quite liked his look: brown hair that hung past his ears and eyes so brilliantly blue that she could see them even from her vantage point. The dapper officer clicked his heels together in a manner that might have made Belle giggle under different circumstances before he asked to see the captain’s papers.

  Captain Henry shook his head. “Good day to yourself, sir, but I cannot say I’m quite as glad to see you. I do not have any papers.”

  “Ah,” the man replied. “That presents a problem, doesn’t it?”

  Just then Belle caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. A soldier had appeared beside her. “Sergeant of the guard!” His shout was so loud that Belle’s ears rang. “Put a man in front of this door and give him orders to stab this woman if she dares come out any further.”

  Belle’s gaze traveled back to the blue-eyed man but he was focused on the captain.

  The soldier stepped closer and snarled, “Now ain’t ye skeared?”

  She turned her eyes on him, narrowing them with hatred as he stuck out his hand to smooth his overgrown mane.

  “No,” Belle returned. “I’ve never been afraid of a Yankee.”

  His hand dropped back to his side. “Do you know that it was I who fired the shot over your head?”

  “Oh?” Belle put her own hand on her hip. “Are you the coward who fired on a defenseless ship after her surrender? How admirable of the Federal government to select such an officer as you.” She would have gone on in her insults had her attention not been caught by the blue-eyed man, who strode past her without a second glance.

  As her adversary began to mount a reprisal, she waved her hand. “That man,” she said, pointing at the officer’s back. “Who is he?”

  Obviously caught off guard, he sputtered.

  “What did you say?” Belle demanded.

  “Harding. Lieutenant Harding, spelled with an e on the end.”

  “An e on the end. Like my name,” she said dreamily. How nice Belle Hardinge would look on paper.

  As if he’d heard his name, Lieutenant Hardinge walked toward Belle’s room. “Hallo Swasey,” he said to the soldier, his tone as affable as ever. “And who do we have here?” he asked as he at last turned those magnificent eyes on Belle.

  Belle knew she should introduce herself with her pseudonym, but she couldn’t help herself. “Miss Belle Boyd.”

  He bowed and Belle noticed how perfectly his hair fell back into place when he righted.

  “Am I to be a prisoner?” she asked in a deferential tone.

  “Since I am now in command of the vessel, I beg of you to consider yourself a passenger, not a prisoner.”

  Belle’s grin was genuine as she acquiesced, hoping he would make more agreeable requests in the future. Even if he was a Yankee.

  Lieutenant Hardinge disappeared to conduct some business, but he soon returned to Belle’s doorway. “The stars are so pretty tonight. Won’t you come see?” He held out his hand and Belle placed a gloved hand in his as he led her to the bow.

  “That’s Orion.” He pointed his finger at a constellation before moving it to the moon. “Its light seems to shine directly on you and only on you.”

  Belle stepped closer and put her hand on his arm. “Where is Virginia?”

  “South. We are currently headed to Boston.”

  “Oh.” Belle held her lips together in an exaggerated fashion, noticing Hardinge’s eyes focus on her mouth before dropping to her décolletage.

  “But don’t worry.” He met her gaze. “I’ll make sure you are granted your freedom.”

  “And Captain Henry?”

  He looked out to sea. “I have my orders. He is to be arrested as soon as we get to shore.”

  “Of course you must obey your commanding officer.” Belle dropped her hand back to her side. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell Captain Henry myself. We’ve gotten to be good friends in this short while.”

  Lieutenant Hardinge nodded. “I have some more things to take care of before I row back to the Connecticut tonight.”

  Belle spied his empty boat tied to the deck, floating in the dark waters below. “Are you leaving so soon?”

  “Just for the night. I need to report back to my captain. But I shall stop in to say goodnight.”

  “I’d like that very much. I will probably be with the captain when you leave.”

  When Belle arrived at the captain’s quarters, she found that Captain Henry was accompanied by two guards. They obliged by admitting her into his room.

  Belle curtsied. “Captain, I’m sorry to say that the kindly lieutenant has orders to detain you when we arrive at Boston Harbor.”

  The captain nodded. “I suspected as much.”

  Belle walked over to a table where there was a bottle of whiskey and a few glasses. She picked two up and held them out to the guards. “Gentlemen, would you like to enjoy a drink to the captain’s health?”

  The two men glanced at each other. One of them shrugged and the other stepped toward Belle. “Sure.”

  In no time the men had drunk most of the bottle. Belle held a glass up to her lips but didn’t drink anything. Without looking at Captain Henry, she spoke in a low tone, “In a few minutes time, Lieutenant Hardinge will be here to bid us goodnight. After he leaves, you should sneak away on his rowboat.”

  She could hear the captain suck in his breath. “I don’t—”

  She nodded toward the drunken guards. “They won’t be much bother. I will take care of distracting the lieutenant.”

  The captain set his glass down with a clink. “I suppose I would rather escape with my dignity than become a prisoner of the Union.” He stood. The guards paid him no heed as his eyes darted back and forth, taking stock of his chambers.

  Presently Lieutenant Hardinge arrived.

  “Lieutenant,” Belle linked her arm through his. “Would you escort me to my room?”

  “Of course.” If Lieutenant Hardinge noticed his men were on the way to passing out, he made no comment.

  Belle nodded a farewell at Captain Henry as they left his quarters.

  As they returned to her doorway, Belle noticed Lieutenant Hardinge fidget with the chain of his pocket watch.

  “Miss Boyd—”

  “Belle.”

  His face relaxed. “Belle then. And you can call me Samuel.”

  Belle caught sight of the captain, clad in his overcoat and hat, appearing on deck. She turned Samuel so that his back was toward the rowboat. “What constellation is that?”

  “Um…” he cleared his throat before rotating his head. “I’m not sure.”

  Belle coughed. “This night air is getting to me. I should go inside soon.”

  “Belle, I know this is very soon, but I was wondering if you could ever think of becoming betrothed to me.”

  She heard a small scuffling and assumed Captain Henry was climbing into the boat. She coughed again and Samuel tapped her back. “Is it because I’m a Union man?”

  “No.” She held a fist to her mouth and finished one last coughing spree. “That’s not it at all. I’m just a bit congested is all.” She perked her ears but heard nothing else. “I will think about your proposal, but I cannot give you an official answer until we arrive in Boston.”

  He nodded solemnly. “I shall anxiously await your consent, then.”

  “Goodnight, lieutenant.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Belle slipped inside her room before he could notice his boat was gone. Once again she had outwitted the Yankees.

  Presently she heard a whistle and then shouting. She slipped off her dress, petticoat, and corset before getting into bed wearing just her chemise. A few minutes later there was a knock at her door. Belle opened it a crack.

  “Captain Henry has escaped!”

  “Are you sure?” She pulled the door wide enough for Samuel to see that she was in her bedclothe
s. “I just saw him!”

  Samuel shook his head, sighing to himself. “I’m sorry to bother you. It is of no concern for a lady. You must get some sleep.”

  Despite the chaos of soldiers shouting and running about the ship, Belle slept blissfully, dreaming of one of Stonewall’s men rowing through an empty harbor back to freedom.

  The next morning when Belle awoke, she found Samuel pacing back and forth across the deck, clearly still distraught over the disappearance of Captain Henry.

  “You still have not located him?”

  “No.” Samuel slammed a hand on the railing. “How could I have been so careless?”

  “I’m so sorry that happened to you. But,” Belle reached out to finger the lapel of his uniform. “I’ve decided that I want nothing more than to marry you.”

  When he turned to face her, his solemn expression had turned into a grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear. “You’ve made me the happiest man there is, North or South!”

  Belle stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “Forgive me for being so bold, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  “And I, you, although I look forward to spending the rest of my life getting to know you better.”

  “Indeed. And now if you will excuse me, I have some wedding plans to start making.”

  He winked at her. “Whatever storm lies ahead as my punishment, I know I shall be sailing into calmer waters, thanks to you.”

  She gave him a little wave and went back to her room to begin making a list of things needed for her trousseau.

  Belle took a walk on the deck after lunch and returned to her room to find a letter from Samuel:

  My dear Belle,

  I am told that I will be put on trial for the escape of Captain Henry. The Admiral says it looks very bad for us. I have already informed my men that I will take all the blame and they shall be spared, for I know that I can weather any storm knowing that you love me and will someday be my wife.

  Affectionately,