by Ginny Dye
“Just several thousand?” Pompey asked skeptically. “To take the whole city?”
“Supposedly they have received reports about the meager defenses surrounding the city from one of the spies there. They believe them to be quite reliable.” He managed a smile. “It will be a stunning coup if it works. Can you imagine five thousand prisoners free in Richmond? It could be the final stroke to make the city fall.”
“Why you going’?” Pompey peered at him. “Especially without none of your men?”
Moses shrugged. “I’m going as a scout for Colonel Dahlgren. That is if he needs me. He’s already got a fellow, an ex-slave, who says he knows the area well and can lead him to a shallow ford on the James River. Surprise and speed are essential to the success of the mission.”
“You know that area well?”
Moses paused. “Not really. I grew up in Goochland County, but my owner didn’t let us off the plantation very much. Captain Jones volunteered my services because he knew I came from there.”
“But you ain’t feelin’ none too good about it.”
Moses started to deny it but knew Pompey would know he was lying. “I’m not sure what’s bothering me,” he admitted. There’s just something in my gut…”
“The gut don’t usually lie, Moses,” Pompey warned. “You pay real close attention to it while you be out there.”
It was late on Sunday night when two lines of Union cavalrymen galloped by the Spotsylvania Courthouse in Fredericksburg. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch. General Custer had crossed the Rapidan River in a successful feint to draw Confederate cavalry after him. Yankee scouts had surprised and captured Southern pickets at Ely’s Ford, east of General Lee, cutting telegraph lines to ruin communications with Richmond. Kilpatrick and Dahlgren had crossed the Rapidan River behind them and were now riding toward Richmond, and had been unmolested because they were completely unknown.
Moses pulled his collar up against the raw cold. He was impressed with how things had gone so far. He still felt uneasy, but he was comforted by the smoothness of the operation.
When Dahlgren gave the order, a column of five hundred troopers split off from the original four thousand. The plan was for Kilpatrick to take his stronger force and attack Richmond from the north while Dahlgren crossed the James River and swung downstream on the south side to free the prisoners at Belle Island. Kilpatrick would dash straight in to free those at Libby and at the other prisons. Dahlgren’s men would cross over and join Kilpatrick who would be stronger by several thousand more men. They would then torch the city and capture Confederate leaders.
“We’ll have some kind of party down there,” one grizzled trooper called jubilantly.
“They ain’t gonna know what hit them,” another crowed.
The dark night swallowed them and concealed their presence as they galloped down the road toward Goochland and Louisa County.
Moses was quiet with his own thoughts. He was the only black face in a sea of white. He had grown accustomed to it over the last few years, but he didn’t know any of these men - didn’t know how they viewed his presence. The ex-slave Dahlgren had hired was riding at the front of the line where he could best direct them. Moses would feel safe only if he stayed on his guard.
They were just approaching the river, north of Louisa County, when the sun lent a little color to the dark, rainy day. They stopped for a quick bite to eat and then sprang back into their saddles. “We’re making good time, men!” Dahlgren called out. “No reason we can’t do a little damage on the way down.”
The men whooped and hollered. There had been absolutely no resistance. The Rebels had no idea they were about to be fallen upon. By mid-morning the smoke from burning grist and sawmills dotted the sky behind them, melting invisibly into the thick cloud covering. Six canal boats loaded with grain had been torched then sunk.
Moses could feel the excitement rising to a fever-pitch as they neared where they would cross over, well into Goochland, but still far enough west of Richmond to escape detection. The men were quiet now, the thud of horse hooves the only indicator of impending doom for the unsuspecting city.
Suddenly the entire column ground to a halt. The rain had stopped falling, but the gray day still hung around them like a cloying cloak. The men shifted impatiently, eager to be on their way now that they were so close. Every second they were delayed could mean disaster.
“What are they doing up there?” one man muttered.
“It shouldn’t be taking this long,” another agreed.
A trooper dashed down the road beside the stalled column. “Where is Moses Samuels?” he hollered.
Several men twisted in their saddles to stare at him as Moses urged his horse forward out of line. “Right here, sir,” he called.
“Colonel Dahlgren wants you up front,” the trooper snapped. “Follow me.”
Moses galloped after him. What had happened that would demand his services? It took several minutes to pass the long, stalled column. When he reached the banks of the river, he sucked in his breath. The usually calm James River bulged at its banks, straining to find a way to release the water rushing in a foaming cascade. He glanced away and was suddenly riveted by another drama.
Colonel Dahlgren stood beside his horse, but he was staring down at the water with undisguised fury. Standing a few yards away from him was the ex-slave trembling in obvious terror. Moses had seen him from a distance earlier that morning. The man’s breath was coming in quick gasps, and his eyes were bulging.
The colonel swung around. “Trooper Samuels?” he snapped.
“Yes, sir.” Moses urged his horse forward and then swung easily to the ground when he reached the colonel.
“You’re from around here, aren’t you?” Dahlgren barked. “What do you think of this river crossing?”
Moses hesitated, then spoke honestly. “I wouldn’t recommend using it, sir.”
“Why not? I was informed this crossing would be shallow enough for my men.”
“I’m sure it usually is, but the rain the last few days has made it impassable, I’m afraid.” Moses tried to control the pounding of his heart. Why had Dahlgren really called him up here? It was obvious to anyone with any intelligence that the river was impassable. Dahlgren didn’t need him to point out the obvious.
Dahlgren, his eyes blazing with anger, spun on his good leg toward the cowering guide. “You tricked me!” he yelled. “You set me up!”
“No, sir!” The terrified man fluttered his hands wildly. “I ain’t done no tricking.” He sucked in his breath. “How I supposed to be knowin’ the river be up like this?”
Dahlgren spun toward Moses, his eyes flashing. “Where can I cross the river?” he demanded.
Moses knew he was risking the colonel’s fury as well, but he met his eyes squarely. “I’m not aware of another place, sir.”
Dahlgren’s anger spewed over. His face turned red, and the veins bulged in his neck as he swung toward the wild-eyed guide. “You may think I’m beat, but I’m not,” he screamed. “I’ll find another way into Richmond.” He scowled, reached out to strike the guide, but then seemed to change his mind.
Moses watched in fascinated horror. The colonel was obviously out of control.
Dahlgren wheeled away, stared at the river for another long moment, then spun toward several of his men. “Hang him,” he ordered.
Moses gasped. Suddenly he noticed dozens of black men gathered on the side of the clearing. He had heard that slaves, learning of their mission, had left their plantations to join in on the excitement. They stared at the drama now, disbelief on their frightened faces.
“Please!” the guide pleaded in a strained voice. “I ain’t done nothing’. I ain’t done nothin’ wrong!”
Moses felt sick at the fear he heard in the condemned man’s voice.
Dahlgren waved impatiently at the group of men he had spoken to. “I said hang him!” he ordered again. “And be quick about it. We’ve got to get out of here.”
His men stared at him for a moment then one sprang forward with a rope.
Moses stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding in front of him. He opened his mouth to protest but then closed it. He had witnessed a scene like this before. He recognized the look of demented fury that wouldn’t listen to reason. He had seen it on the face of the man who had hanged his father. At nine years old, he had watched his father be lynched by a man he’d dared to cross. Moses battled the sickness rolling in his stomach.
A sudden cry at the edge of the clearing grabbed his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several of the slaves watching edge toward the tree where the rope was being hung. Quickly he glanced toward the troopers arraigned in the open clearing and staring at the drama taking place before them. Moses made up his mind.
He moved toward the slaves. “Get out of here,” he ordered quietly. The cavalrymen behind him began to cheer and taunt the guide as he was led over to the rope. Moses breathed a sigh of relief. The noise would cover his words. “You can’t stop it,” he told them in an agonized voice. He held up a hand when one of the slaves started to speak. “Things could get out of control. He might not be the only one.” He knew they would understand his meaning.
The one who had started to speak stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him. The rest locked eyes on him as well.
“I’m sorry,” Moses choked. “They’re not all like this,” he added, knowing his words would mean nothing. These men would never forget what they were seeing happen at the hands of Union soldiers - the men who were supposed to be their liberators, the men they had followed eagerly all day. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the guide being lifted to a horse, his mouth gagged, his arms and legs flailing in futile resistance.
“Leave now,” Moses said urgently. “Save yourselves.”
The group hesitated, then turned as one, and melted into the trees. Most of them had already learned the lesson that resistance against the white man was futile. Their faces were both angry and forlorn as they turned for one last look, and then disappeared. Moses gazed after them, wishing fiercely that he could join them, yet knowing that if he disappeared he would be immediately suspect. Dahlgren would assume he had been in union with the guide and would have him hunted down.
Moses swung into his saddle and turned just as the horse was pulled out from under the guide. Bile rose in his stomach as the man jolted to a stop at the end of the rope. The crack of his neck as it broke rang over the sound of the gushing river. Moses turned away, tears of helpless rage filling his eyes. Somehow he had to maintain control.
A cheer rose from some of the soldiers. Others watched grimly, their faces set in anger and pain. One exchanged a long, sorrowful look with Moses, his pinched expression revealing his feelings. Moses straightened, taking heart from the one who shared his pain.
Dahlgren scowled up at the dead man and then swung away. “Let’s keep moving!” he ordered. “Crossing the river is out of the question. We’ll go straight down river. We still have the advantage of surprise.”
Robert had just walked up to the house after a long meeting with a government official when the tower bells in Capitol Square began to peal wildly. He stopped on the porch, quickly turning to look down on the city almost shrouded by the dark, rainy afternoon.
Thomas appeared beside him with a worried look on his face. “What do you think it is?”
Robert shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” He turned toward the house. “I’ll get our gear.” Minutes later he reappeared, his arms full of rain gear and haversacks that May had hastily stuffed with food. Micah rounded the corner with Granite at the same time Spencer drove up in the carriage. Thomas climbed in quickly, and they were off.
When he and Thomas reached Capitol Square, a large force of the Local Defense had already assembled. Robert gazed out over artisans from the Armory and a battalion of government clerks, many who were mere boys. Their faces were determined, their eyes blazed fiercely.
Governor Letcher appeared on the porch of the Capitol, his mouth set in a grim line. “A Federal cavalry force is advancing on the city from the west,” he announced in a booming voice. “We shall not give up our city!”
A rousing cheer greeted his words.
Colonel Custis Lee stepped to his side. “I’ve commandeered all the horses and wagons available. We are heading out to Westham Plank Road a few miles west of the city. We’ll set up our block there.”
Lee looked up and saw Robert standing in the crowd. A relieved smile broke over his face. He shouted directions to the men and then wove his way down to join him. “I’m glad to see you, old man. I’d heard you were still around here. Up for a little action?”
“Lead on.” Robert smiled and gripped his gun tighter. His heart pounded as he realized just how close the Federal cavalry had gotten. Thoughts of Carrie working in the hospital, oblivious to the close proximity of danger, steeled his determination to force the invaders back.
Just then they heard an explosion of artillery north of the city. Lee glanced up. “I had heard reports of two cavalry units,” he said. “The other one must have just hit our outer defenses on Brook Road.” He shook his head. “They’ll have to hold their position. My orders are clear to head west.” He turned and leaped on his horse.
Robert mounted Granite while Thomas climbed into a wagon. Within moments, the three hundred member force was moving rapidly out of the city.
Carrie glanced up at Dr. Wild. “I’m through with this man.”
Dr. Wild nodded. “I’m almost done as well.” His words were interrupted by the wild clanging of the tower bells. He lifted his head, listened for a moment, then bent back to his work.
Carrie looked up at the line of men still waiting to be treated. This was her third visit to Libby Prison. Ever since Matthew’s harrowing description of his stay, she had determined to do what she could. She had precious little time between her duties at Chimborazo and the black hospital, but still, she felt she was making a slight difference. There was medical service offered to the prisoners, but it was never enough. Not that much could be done. Most of the prisoners suffered from hunger and exposure. No medicine would cure that. Once again, Carrie prayed silently that the prison exchange program would start back up. Some of these men would not last much longer.
A guard appeared at the door. “You need to go now,” he ordered abruptly.
“But our time isn’t up,” Carrie protested. “We have another hour left.”
“Not today you don’t.” The guard motioned for them to leave.
Carrie started to argue, then exchanged a long look with Dr. Wild, and closed her mouth. She didn’t want to jeopardize their visiting privileges. That they were here at all was a miracle. Ever since Matthew and the others had escaped, security had been tightened. The men were subjected to dozens of roll calls a day, sometimes four or five in the middle of the night. If any man was seen too close to a window, a guard would shoot first and ask questions later.
As Carrie packed her bags, she noticed looks of excitement on some of the men’s faces. She wondered about it but kept packing. The prison commander met them at the front door.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Dr. Wild asked. “Have we inadvertently caused a problem?
“It’s the Yankees causing problems.” The commander scowled. “We’ve had reports that the Yanks will try to stage a prison break. Word just came in of Union cavalry to the west and north of the city.”
Carrie snapped her head around toward Capitol Square. Surely Robert and her father were even now reporting for duty. He heart pounded as she wondered what the night would bring.
“They won’t get these prisoners,” the commander growled. Just then the doors pushed open. Men, carrying heavy barrels, wrestled them through the doors. He turned back to Carrie and Dr. Wild. “Those barrels are full of gunpowder. I’ll stay at my post until I see a Yankee head for this prison.” His lips thinned. “Then I’ll blow this place sky high.”
&nbs
p; Carrie gasped. “You’re going to kill everyone?”
He gazed at her as if she were a rather unintelligent child. “Ma’am, you tell me what I should do. Those Yanks get here and set these prisoners free, and we’ll have five thousand men marauding this town, eager to seek revenge. We don’t have enough guards to stop them if they come. All the local troops have been called out to guard the roads. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He spun on his heel and disappeared into his office.
Carrie stared after him.
Dr. Wild took her arm gently. “I’ll take you home.”
Carrie nodded numbly, her heart screaming in protest even though she knew there was nothing she could do. She glanced back at the prison several times, wondering whether she would ever see it again. The thoughts of the men inside, and the fate they faced, made her shiver. While her rational mind told her they could indeed be dangerous to the city, her heart told her they were men who just wanted to return home to their families where they could be warm and well-fed. She shuddered as she thought of Matthew and was exceedingly glad he had escaped before now.
She would go home to sit by the window and wait for Robert and her father to return.
Dahlgren led his men east, straight toward Richmond. The rain continued to fall, making the roads slick and thick with mud. The sudden boom of cannon made him pull his horse up sharply.
Moses was now close enough to hear every word.
“Kilpatrick is storming the outer defenses,” Dahlgren said with grim satisfaction. “We are less than five miles from the city. We will wait for darkness, then advance. Richmond’s limited forces will have their hands full with Kilpatrick. We’ll give him time to break through, and then we will smash through ourselves.” His voice was once more full of brash confidence.
Moses tried to control the loathing in his heart, but he could not block out the image of the guide dangling from the tree, his eyes bulging lifelessly, his tongue already swollen when Moses had dared to look back. He had lost all taste for any kind of fight, but he knew he had no choice but to press on.