by Ginny Dye
“And when am I going to see you?” Butler demanded.
“We hadn’t set up a time yet,” Manning interrupted.
Butler turned and looked at him closely, then swung back to Rose. “What is it you need, young lady?”
“Just a few minutes of your time,” Rose said carefully.
“I have a few minutes,” Butler said abruptly. “Come with me.”
Rose flushed with triumph then sobered when she saw the glowering look on Manning’s face. She tried not to make enemies. Especially with soldiers. “Thank you, sir,” she responded, falling in beside him.
Butler was silent until they had exited the fort and were walking across the grounds. “Who are you?”
“My name is Rose Samuels. I’m one of the teachers in the contraband camp.”
“Trouble over there?”
“No, sir. At least not beyond what is normal. I’m afraid the trouble is here in your fort.”
Butler ground to a halt and turned to stare at her. “What would you know about my fort?”
“I’ve heard things,” Rose said carefully. She had no desire to implicate June.
Butler continued to stare at her then nodded. “What is it?”
Rose told him what June had told her that morning. “I was sure you would want to know,” she finished.
Butler turned to stare out at the bay. “You say these men were just shipped north a day or two ago?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll make sure someone is waiting for the boat when they land,” he promised. “If they want to come home, they can. If they want to stay and fight, they can stay. But they won’t be auctioned off,” he growled. He shook his head heavily. “You realize there are many different feelings in the North about you people?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir. It’s fairly obvious.” Rose silently exulted that the captured men would be freed.
“I’ll do what I can to make sure this is stopped,” Butler promised. He started to walk away then stopped. “You’re a very courageous lady,” he said.
“I’m just doing what should be done,” Rose said quietly. Just then a group of soldiers passed them. They stared at her closely but made no comment. Butler seemed not to take notice. Rose pushed away a vague feeling of uneasiness.
“You have a husband?” he asked suddenly.
“He’s serving in the army,” Rose replied. “He started out as a spy. Now he is serving under Captain Jones.”
“We’ll win this war yet, Mrs. Samuels,” Butler said firmly. “You keep getting your people ready.”
Rose opened her mouth to respond, but the general was finished. Nodding, he spun on his heel and walked rapidly away. Satisfied she had done everything she could, Rose watched him go. Hugging her triumph close, she turned to retrace her steps back to the camp.
The clouds she’d seen perched on the horizon earlier were now boiling overhead. A streak of lightening flashed across the sky, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. Rose quickened her steps. If she hurried, she could make it home before the storm hit. She had almost reached the outskirts of the camp when a figure stepped out in front of her.
“Where you going so fast, miss?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rose stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beginning to pound. “Excuse me?”
“You hard of hearing?” the tall, lanky soldier snarled. “I asked where you were going so fast.”
“Home,” Rose said evenly, fighting to control the panic rising in her.
The soldier leaned against the tree. “I don’t think so,” he said casually, his hard eyes belying his tone of voice.
“Why not?” Rose snapped, suddenly angry.
The casual expression evaporated from the man’s face. “Don’t get uppity with me, nigger. It won’t take much to show you your place.” He turned toward the building behind him. “This the one you wanted?”
“That’s the one,” a deep voice answered.
Rose stared as Manning, the soldier from General Butler’s office, stepped from behind the building. “What do you want?” she demanded.
“Not much,” Manning shrugged, his eyes cold and uncompromising. “I’d just like to know what you talked to the general about.”
“That was between me and the general,” Rose said coldly.
Manning scowled and stepped closer, grasping her arm so tightly she gasped with pain. “I intend for it to become between you and me.”
Rose was confused. “Why? What difference could it make to you?”
Manning smiled coldly. “I suppose that’s a fair question. I didn’t like the things General Butler was saying when he stomped back into the office a few minutes ago. Me and the boys look after each other, you know. I need to know if someone is getting in trouble.”
Rose stared at him with a sinking heart. She glanced around to see whether there was any avenue of escape, but she knew without looking she was trapped. She squared her shoulders. “Do you have some reason to be worried, Mr. Manning?”
“Don’t get uppity with me, nigger,” Manning growled. He gripped her arm more tightly until she gasped with pain. “Tell me what you told the general.”
Rose fought the desire to slap him in the face. She knew it would be the end of her. Desperately she tried to figure some way to get out of her predicament. “I went there on behalf of some recent refuge slaves,” she finally admitted.
“The boys having a rough time,” Manning sneered. “Having to work harder here than they wanted to?”
Rose bit her lip. She knew every male contraband was working for the Federal government. Those who got paid were paid well below what the white soldiers received. “They were taken away to be sold on the auction block up North,” she said coldly. “They came here to escape slavery.”
“I guess some folks just can’t escape who they are,” Manning said sarcastically. His eyes glittered angrily. “How’d you find out about those boys?” he demanded suddenly.
“I just heard talk,” Rose said evasively, envisioning the fear shining in June’s eyes earlier that morning. Manning gripped her arm tighter. Rose bit her lip to keep from crying out and stared at him defiantly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how scared she was. She began to pray silently.
“I want to know where you heard the talk.”
Rose just shrugged. “I really can’t remember,” then she cried out as his fingers dug even deeper into her tender flesh. She struggled to wrench free. The man who had stopped her stepped up and grabbed her other arm.
Manning thrust his face up to hers, his hot breath fanning her face. “I would encourage you to remember.” He paused. “If you want to go home, that is.”
Rose thought of John waiting at home for his evening feeding. Then she thought of June. She would never betray her friend. She shook her head silently.
Another crack of lightening ripped through the air, ominous thunder following close on its heels. Yellowish clouds swirled in a violent dance above their heads. A vicious wind kicked up, tossing the limbs above their heads as if they were mere twigs.
Rose continued to stare at Manning defiantly. Somehow she knew if she gave into her fear and looked away, he would have won. He would have control. The silent battle continued as the storm raged over their heads.
“You ain’t gonna get her to talk,” the other man said suddenly. “This storm is gonna be a big one. We need to get out of here.”
“She’ll talk,” Manning snarled, reaching up suddenly to touch her face. “She’ll talk - or at least she’ll give us some entertainment.”
Rose stiffened but continued to stare at him. She refused to let him see her fear. God, please help me! she cried silently.
“Are you crazy?” the other man exclaimed. “General Butler will find out and then our gooses will be cooked for sure. It’s bad enough we might get caught for sending them men north!”
“Will you shut up!” Manning shouted, releasing Rose’s arm as he spun to yell at the other man.
<
br /> Rose resisted the temptation to run, knowing it would only infuriate him more. She didn’t have a chance of outrunning him in her long skirts, anyway. She longed for Moses to come to her rescue but knew it was impossible. He was miles away on the battlefield. Her mind raced to figure out some way to reason with the man then abandoned the idea. There was no reasoning with someone like him.
The first fat drops of rain began to fall, and lightning continued to strike overhead.
Manning turned back to her suddenly. “Get out of here!” he demanded furiously. “You’re going to be lucky this time. But don’t think it will last. I hear about you skunking on me and my friends again, and you can kiss your life goodbye.” He paused, staring hard. “There’s all kinds of ways to get rid of women like you. No one would ever know who did it. If you’ve got a husband and kids, you better think about it.”
Rose kept her face impassive. She would reveal nothing to give him further ammunition. Just then the sky opened up; a torrential rain obliterated the nearby buildings from sight.
Manning laughed and shoved her toward the camp. “Get out of here, nigger. And I don’t want to see you again.”
Rose stumbled and fell, the dust clinging to her wet dress. Springing to her feet, she glanced around. The two men had already disappeared. She took a deep breath and began to walk slowly toward home. It would do no good to run. She was already soaked through, and she needed time to pull herself together before she reached the cabin. She already knew she wouldn’t tell June about her encounter. It would only terrorize her more.
Now that Manning had disappeared, Rose let herself feel the full extent of her anger.. She was angry that attempts to help her people resulted in situations like this. Angry there were so many bitter people full of hatred. Angry that men like Manning could make her people afraid of Northerners when there were just as many Northerners eager and willing to help them.
I won’t stop, she vowed. I won’t stop trying to change things.
Matthew paced restlessly. His opportunity had come. If all went well, he would be free of Libby Prison in just a few hours. His mind raced as he went over the plan he had so carefully calculated. It was certainly not foolproof, but it was the only real chance that had come his way so far. He was determined to take it.
“We’re ready for the meeting, Matthew,” Captain Anderson called.
Matthew nodded and moved in the direction of the crates that had been circled up in the far corner. He was one of the few who knew this meeting of the Libby Prison Association had not been called for the regular reason of discussing light topics or reading from books. The agenda today was much more serious. He felt sorry for the men who were to be singled out although he knew they deserved it.
Captain Anderson cleared his throat as soon as the circle was full. “I hereby call this meeting to order,” he said sternly.
Matthew watched as the men surrounding him tensed and leaned forward. It was obvious from Anderson’s voice that something unexpected was about to happen.
“Would Colonel Tibbens and Lieutenant Flannagan step forward?” Anderson asked.
Only Tibbens stood. Flannagan stayed seated on his crate, his head between his hands. Tibbens stared at the other man, but neither one said a word.
Anderson’s voice, when he finally spoke, was sharp. “It has come to the association’s attention that the two of you signed a statement saying the prisoners have been receiving adequate food and clothing from the Rebels. Is that true?”
Tibbens stared at the floor and avoided the eyes of his fellow prisoners. “Yes, I signed a statement to that effect. I felt it was correct.”
“Traitor!” one of the men yelled.
Matthew watched silently. He had taken up his belt two notches since arriving at Libby Prison. He well understood the man’s anger.
“I’m not a traitor!” Tibbens yelled back.
“Look at you,” one of the other men yelled. “You’ve lost forty pounds since you got here.” The anger in his voice faded away as he shook his head. “How are we ever going to make a difference here if our own members aid the enemy?”
Angry muttering echoed his sentiments.
Anderson gaveled the meeting back to order. “We have written a resolution condemning Tibbens and Flannagan’s statements. We have made it clear their statements are a gross misrepresentation of facts and their inferences unqualifiedly false,” he said sternly. He fixed the two offending officers with a glare. “If we could rid ourselves of your presence, we would do so most gladly. However, we’re stuck with you. I’m afraid you won’t find the rest of your stay here very pleasant.” His voice was flat and hard.
“Traitors,” several of the men muttered again, their faces hard, their eyes glowing.
Matthew continued to watch. His yearning to escape had increased dramatically since the overcrowding had worsened after the fighting at Chickamauga. Tension and hopelessness had increased in the prison when Jefferson Davis had abruptly terminated prisoner exchanges. There was one final exchange happening today. A group of army surgeons were being released to help the Confederacy’s critical need for their own medical personnel.
“You have a copy of our resolution, don’t you?” Anderson asked.
“I do,” Matthew agreed. “I will make certain the Northern public becomes aware of the true situation here in the prison. Now that exchanges have stopped I feel certain something will be done. I don’t believe Lincoln will let things continue as they are.”
“He’d better not,” one officer muttered. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” He looked at Matthew. “Lucky devil.”
Matthew didn’t deny the man’s statement. He was considering himself very lucky right now. It gnawed at him that it had taken another man’s death to open the door of opportunity for him, but he was still eager to grasp it.
“This meeting is over,” Anderson announced. Then he looked at Matthew. “Let’s get you ready.”
Two nights ago Dr. Kenneth White had passed away taken by the typhoid he had contracted treating men on the battlefield. The planned prisoner exchange was known. Anderson had ordered the doctor’s body to be hidden, and another man had answered for him at roll call. So far they had been lucky. The guards were oblivious.
Matthew moved to a chair in the far corner for the transformation. He winced as the men came at him with dull razors and penknives, but he endured it stoically.
“Your own mama won’t know you when we’re done with you,” Anderson laughed.
An hour later, the men held up a piece of tin for Matthew to see himself. His mustache had been shaved off, and they had trimmed his beard close to his face. His shoulder length red hair had been lopped off to just above his neck. What used to be red hair, Matthew corrected himself. He stared at himself in amazement. One of the men had gathered soot and charcoal from the cook fires and saved it. Working carefully, they had changed him from a redhead into a brunette. From a distance he resembled the tall, lanky doctor who now lay covered by boards in the back of the room.
“I always wondered what I would look like with black hair,” Matthew muttered. Even his eyebrows had been darkened. From a distance, Matthew was sure no one would recognize him. He grinned then sobered. If his escape attempt worked, he knew the officers he was leaving behind were counting on him. They had chosen him to take the doctor’s place because of his position as a journalist. They held onto the hope that public opinion could change their situation. He prayed he wouldn’t let them down. He turned to tell them thank you again.
“Dr. Kenneth White. Dr. Marvin Gallagher. Dr. Stephen Lawing.”
Matthew jumped as the roll call for the prison exchange began. They had completed the transformation just in time.
Anderson grabbed a slouch hat and crammed it on top of his head. “Have a good trip, Doctor,” he said grimly.
Matthew exchanged a long look with him then took his place in the line of waiting doctors. His heart pounded as he waited, suppressing a shudder at th
e knowledge of how he would be treated if he were discovered.
“Let’s go, men,” the guard called loudly.
Matthew took a deep breath and walked out of the room. He tensed as he passed Nichols, the prison policeman, but he did little more than glance up at them. Matthew sighed with relief as they cleared the prison door and stepped out into the warm sunshine. He lifted his face for just a moment to feel the rays warm his white cheeks; but then he glanced back down quickly. He was still not out of danger.
The guard ushered them east toward the canal and the waiting Flag of Truce boat. The other men around him grinned in happy excitement to be free. Matthew wanted to join in but knew it was still too soon. When the boat had pulled away from the dock and was steaming down the river, he would celebrate.
He began to relax a little as the group reached the waiting boat. Surely if the guards had missed him, he would know by now. He watched as the Confederate guard finished his check of the paper and ran a gaze over the assembled group. There was no cause for concern here. The guard had never seen Dr. White. He was just checking to make sure the number of prisoners matched the number on his paper. All was going well so far.
“All right, men,” the guard called loudly. “Get on the boat. Your vacation in the South is over,” he grinned.
Matthew grinned in return and joined in the line of men filing onto the boat. He could feel freedom within his grasp.
“Stop that boat! Stop that boat!” A faint shout floated to them on the breeze.
“What the...?” the guard muttered, holding up his hand to stop the line.
Matthew felt his heart begin to pound again.
The shout was louder this time. “Hold those prisoners! Hold those prisoners!”
Matthew looked around wildly, searching for an avenue of escape. Suddenly the guards pressed closer. There was no way out. The whole group turned to watch the prison policemen racing toward them. Several of them looked at Matthew anxiously.
Nichols raced up to the line and grabbed Matthew’s arm. “This man isn’t a doctor,” he shouted. “His name is Matthew Justin. A journalist from Pennsylvania. He’s trying to escape!”