by Tim Black
Minerva remembered reading that John Brown refused to eat the food, fearing it might be poisoned. As they entered the engine-house Minerva was struck by the sight of two black men holding long spear-like objects. Pikes, Minerva realized. The men, whom Minerva guessed to be slaves, seemed uncomfortable holding the weapons, and they were ostensibly guarding the white men who were sitting up against the base of a wall.
Victor made eye contact with Minerva and put a finger up to his mouth in a gesture of caution not to speak. Bette busily passed plates out to each captive. Florence gave each man a pair of biscuits.
“Pour the gravy on the side of the plate,” Florence instructed Minerva. “They will sop it up with their biscuits.”
So much for utensils, Minerva thought, and began pouring gravy on the men’s plates. Victor was at the end of the line and she waited until the other men began to eat before she whispered to him, “Make an excuse to use the outhouse in a few minutes and I will meet you there.”
Victor looked at Minerva’s dress and said softly, “What is that?”
“Well, it is not what you think,” she whispered. Minerva said nothing more, but rejoined Bette and Florence and left the engine-house for the armory.
Victor scoffed down his biscuits and gravy and waited a few minutes. Then he said to the two pike holders, “I have to use the privy.”
The two slaves didn’t seem to know what to do, so Victor stood up and walked to the door of the engine-house, opened it and proceeded outside.
His actions drew the attention of Jeremiah Anderson. “Where do you think you are going?” Anderson asked.
Victor feigned being uncomfortable and began to wriggle and squirm. “If I don’t find a privy I will shit my pants!
Anderson laughed and pointed in the direction of an outhouse several yards away. Then Anderson turned away.
When Victor arrived at the privy, Minerva came out from behind the outhouse and gave him the Carrie Nation dress. “Put this on and walk out with us,” she advised. “It will go right over your clothes. Put the bonnet on, too.”
“I can’t.”
“What?” Minerva said.
“I am one of nine men in the engine-house who are captives. That’s the number there were. I need to stay to the end…but give me the dress and I will put it on at the end after John Brown is captured.”
“Victor, you might be killed.”
“No, none of the nine men were,” Victor replied. “I will be alright,” he said. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “Now, go, Minerva, before anyone is the wiser.”
She reached up and kissed him again and then turned and walked back to rejoin Bette and Florence who were waiting at the gate to the armory.
“Did you do your business? “Florence asked. Then she noticed Minerva’s missing belly bump. “What is going on?”
Bette came to the rescue. “My sister’s boyfriend is one of the prisoners, Florence. That is why we volunteered. She had a dressed rolled up under her dress to give to him to put on and walk out with us. What happened?”
Minerva began to tear up. “He wouldn’t do it.”
“Ain’t that just like a man?” Florence said with a shake of her head. “To be all honorable like and not escape. Men are idiots.”
On that disparaging comment about the male gender, the three ladies nodded agreement and walked back to the hotel where Mr. Greene was waiting.
“Where is Victor?” Mr. Greene asked.
“He wouldn’t come,” Minerva said, holding back a tear.
“He’s being an ass. All noble and heroic,” Bette commented.
And for once, Mr. Greene was at a loss for words.
Chapter 13
On the afternoon of October 17, 1859, the militia from Charles Town arrived in Harper’s Ferry. The force consisted of two companies: the Jefferson Guards and the Botts Grays. Upon their arrival the militia made their headquarters at the Wager House Hotel where Mr. Greene, Minerva and Bette had taken a room for the day. The room the time travelers selected had a good vantage point, overseeing the armory grounds a few hundred yards away, and the trio watched as militia men spread out and began firing at the buildings on the armory grounds.
Inside a building that housed primitive fire engine equipment, Victor heard the first splats of musket fire as musket balls hit the wooden doors of the engine-house.
John Brown shouted orders to his men. “Men be cool! Don’t waste your powder and shot! Take aim and make every shot count! The troops will look for us to retreat on their first appearance, be careful to shoot first.”
Watson Brown, one of the abolitionist’s sons was watching through a porthole that had been cut from the wooden slat covering an engine-house window. Seeing movement outside, he shouted to his father, “Troops are approaching, father!”
John Brown peaked through the small opening between the double oak doors of the engine-house. In his right hand he held the sword of Frederick the Great, which Victor realized was useless in a gun battle. He put down the sword and picked up a rifle, poking the weapon through the opening in the doors. “Let go upon them, men!” Brown commanded. The men fired a volley in unison, quickly reloaded and fired again.
“We got some of them, papa!” Watson Brown shouted gleefully. “Look at them skedaddle.”
John Brown, in a calm voice, said merely. “They will be back.”
Victor, remembering what he had read about the raid, realized that this was the time that Dangerfield Newby would fall, felled by a militia man’s bullet, with a letter in his pocket from his wife in slavery, but only thirty miles away, begging her husband to come and rescue her and her children. So close, Victor thought, but so far away. Poor Dangerfield Newby.
Gunfire continued, but this time the shots were directed at the rifle works where two of John Brown’s men were occupying the building. Kagi and Leary, seeing that they were outnumbered, decided on survival over valor and fled out the back door, which was a few yards from the banks of the Shenandoah River. They waded into the river but were picked off by militia men who had retaken the bridges from John Brown’s raiding party.
“The rifle works is lost, father,” Watson declared from his vantage point. “Are we going to surrender?”
“No!” John Brown replied, sternly. He looked at another of his men, Will Thompson. Then he looked at his hostages and pointed to Victor. “You there, come here,” he ordered.
Victor, his hand over his mouth to cover his visage so he was not recognized by Brown, walked over to John Brown but was silent as the fiery abolitionist gave Will Thompson his orders. “Will, go out under a white flag and tell them we will exchange our prisoners for safe passage across the Potomac River. Take this boy with you and release him as a good faith gesture.”
Suddenly, a white cloth was attached to a broom and Will Thompson led Victor out of the engine-house. “What is your name, boy?” Will Thompson asked Victor.
Not wishing to have his name go down in history as a Harper’s Ferry hostage, Victor Bridges lied. “Justin Bieber,” he said.
“Well, Justin, I guess this is your lucky day.”
Victor could see that dozens of rifles were aimed at them. When Will Thompson reached the gate, he said, “My leader says he will release the prisoners if you will grant him safe passage across the Potomac. This boy is a prisoner and Mr. Smith is releasing him in good faith,”
Mr. Smith? Victor was startled, but then he recalled that John Brown used an alias during the raid and it would only be on the morning of the 18th when J.E.B. Stuart knocked on the engine-house door would it be discovered that Mr. Smith was John Brown when Stuart recognized the face, albeit bearded as it was.
A man wearing a lieutenant’s uniform asked Victor, “What is your name, boy and where are you from?”
“I am Justin Bieber, sir. I am a student at Pennsylvania College in Gettysburg. I came to Harper’s Ferry to fish, sir.”
The lieutenant smiled. “And got caught yourself, eh?”
“
Yes, sir.”
“Well now, you run along, now and keep your head down as we will be commencing fire shortly.”
Will Thompson tried to speak up. “What about Mr. Smith’s offer?” he asked.
The lieutenant looked at Will Thompson with disgust. “Sergeant, take this man into custody.”
Victor would be fifty yards away from the armory when he realized he had forgotten Carrie Nation’s dress. He was walking up the street and spotted a young woman hanging out of an upstairs window waving at him. It was Minerva.
Before he could reach the Wager House, Minerva Messinger was running out the door of the Wager House and sprinting into the welcoming arms of “Justin Bieber.” Letting herself go in the heat of the moment, Minerva kissed Victor passionately, surprising the young man with her emotions.
“I was so worried,” she breathed as she held him in a bear hug as if she were fearful of losing him once more if she let go of her grasp.
Victor was uncertain how to respond to Minerva. He reassured her that he was never in any harm as a hostage in the engine-house, but cautioned, “We should not be in the street, Minerva. We might be hit by stray bullets from the engine-house.” He escorted her into the Wager House where Bette and Mr. Greene were waiting.
“We should get back to the classroom and jump to tomorrow morning to see the end of the siege,” Mr. Greene suggested. “And it would be good to go now, before the shooting resumes,” he added, looking at his watch.
As they walked out of the hotel and started up the street to where the classroom was cloaked, Victor turned to look at the engine-house. Three men under a white flag walked out of the building only to be met with a fusillade of fire from the militia members. One man was unhurt, but the two members of John Brown’s party, Watson Brown and Aaron Stevens, lay on the ground. And then another hostage escaped from the engine-house and dragged Stevens out of harm’s way, taking the wounded invader to the railroad depot to receive medical care. The other invader, mortally wounded, was crawling back toward the engine-house.
The entire group had now stopped and was watching the drama. “The hostage helping save the invader is Joseph Brua. Let’s wait a moment. I want you to see what Brua does,” Mr. Greene said.
Mesmerized at the scene, Victor was unaware that Minerva had slipped her fingers of her right hand through the fingers of his left. After a moment Joseph Brua left the railroad station and walked back through the militia members to the engine-house to resume his hostage status.
“Why in the world would Mr. Brua return to be a hostage?”
“He had a strange sense of honor, I think,” Mr. Greene said. Then he turned to Victor. “Wouldn’t you say that, Victor?”
“I guess.”
“You had the opportunity to escape with the Carrie Nation dress, but you stayed there. It was only luck that John Brown picked you to be released. Why didn’t you escape earlier?”
“I’m not sure. It didn’t seem right. I mean, John Brown treated the hostages fairly. He didn’t abuse or threaten any of us. I was sort of disappointed when he chose me for release as a show of faith; I wanted to be there at the end. I am sorry I forgot your dress, Mr. Greene.”
“Don’t worry about the dress, Victor, I am just relieved he chose you,” the teacher replied. “Even though none of the hostages were casualties during the ordeal, your presence might have changed that history. I think we should be grateful for our luck. Do you think John Brown recognized you from our visit with him in Kansas?”
“Maybe,” Victor said. “But he never said anything. I think he was rather preoccupied.”
“That’s probably true,” the teacher agreed. “Let’s get going; the firing will resume any moment,” Mr. Greene suggested.
And as they neared the classroom, the gunfire resumed in earnest. But they were at a safe distance.
“Okay buckle up,” Mr. Greene said. “We are off to predawn October 18, 1859. Robert E. Lee and the marines will be prepared to storm the engine-house. They will arrive at 11 pm on the 17th.
The short hop in time was brief and when Mr. Greene slowed the classroom to a stop, it was dark outside. “We need to get to the Wager House and watch from our window. I took the room for two days in anticipation of this,” he said. He went to his closet and returned with a Civil War Era Signal Corp telescope, like the one Victor had used while watching Pickett’s Charge from Little Round Top at Gettysburg. He handed it to Victor.
When they were in their room at the Wager House, they pushed chairs up against the window so that the girls could sit while Mr. Greene and Victor stood. The moonlight fell on the adjacent Potomac River as the group watched as United States Marines shooed away the militia from the armory. Looking through a telescope Victor spotted a man with a white beard in civilian clothes, accompanied by a younger man in civilian clothes, giving orders to the marines. He handed the telescope to Mr. Greene. “Is the guy with the white beard, Robert E. Lee? He is not in uniform.”
Mr. Greene looked through the telescope. “Yes, that is Robert E. Lee. He had been stationed in Texas with a cavalry unit chasing Comanches, when he took leave to return home to settle the affairs of his late father-in-law who owned Arlington Mansion and its plantation. As you know, Arlington is just across the Potomac from Washington and the White House. President Buchanan had received a telegram from the president of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad alerting him to the rebellion in Harper’s Ferry. Knowing that Lee was in town, the Secretary of War cut orders for Lee to take command of all forces massed in Harper’s Ferry. Coincidentally, staying at the mansion was J.E.B. Stuart, and when the orders arrived by messenger, Stuart volunteered to go along. Lee accepted and the two took off for the railroad station without bothering to change into their uniforms. It is an interesting bit of trivia. Lee did not attack immediately, because he was afraid a nighttime raid would create casualties among the hostages. Now, students, watch what happens next. Stuart, under a white flag will approach the engine-house with Lee’s demand for surrender.”
Sure enough, a civilian wearing a hat and carrying in one hand a flag of truce, and in the other a surrender demand written by Robert E. Lee, approached the engine-house. The door creaked open. “It is at this moment,” Mr. Greene said, “that the real identity of ‘Mr. Smith’ is discovered, for J.E.B. Stuart knew John Brown from those bloody days in Kansas.”
As the group watched from the Wager House Hotel window, John Brown took the ultimatum written by Robert E. Lee, quickly read it and handed it back to Stuart, who took the note, put it in his jacket, and then lifted his hat in a signal for the marines, who were out of sight of the engine-house, but close by, to attack.
The assault began. “Lieutenant Green is leading the assault…by the way, no relation to me.” Mr. Greene reminded his students.
The marines, carrying a wooden ladder, used the device as a battering ram on the oak doors of the engine-house, quickly gaining entrance. The marines had their bayonets fixed. There was a smattering of gunfire from inside the engine-house and from the marines as well, but the assault was all over within a few minutes. Victor looked through the glass and saw a bloodied John Brown, his hair unkempt, his white beard dirtied, hauled out roughly by two marines. He appeared to be unconscious, for his feet slid across the ground as he was dragged away.
Mr. Greene remarked, “Lewis Washington, the descendant of the first President, said that John Brown was ‘the coolest and firmest man I saw defying danger and death. With one son dead by his side and another shot through, he felt the pulse of his dying son with one hand and held his rifle with the other, and commanded his men with the utmost composure, encouraging them to be firm and to sell their lives dearly as they could.’ Ironically. John Brown would survive the raid because Lieutenant Green, in a hurry when he got the orders to leave Washington for Harper’s Ferry, had mistakenly brought along a dress sword rather than his saber. John Brown was wounded with several cuts by the dress sword, but the saber would have killed him outright. Had Brown died
in the marine attack, most likely he would have been forgotten, but because he lived, he was able to impress people with his bearing and his courage. The funny thing is that many of the Southerners admired him for his courage under fire, as most other abolitionists were wimps.”
“Wimps or nonviolent, Mr. Greene?” Bette asked her teacher.
“Touché, Miss Kromer. John Brown was a radical departure from the typical abolitionist who was, like Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., nonviolent. After Harper’s Ferry, however, some abolitionists would adopt methods like John Brown’s. You see, after John Brown was hanged in the North, he became to some, a Christ-like figure, willing to give up his life to free the slaves. His sons died alongside him as well… Okay, we need to get back to the classroom and hop in time to the trial of John Brown, which I think you may find a tad irregular.”
“Shouldn’t we check on Samuel and Heather, Mr. Greene?” Minerva ventured.
Mr. Greene smiled. “We will in good-time, Minerva. Samuel and Heather are in good hands with Mrs. Tubman. Harriet Tubman never lost a passenger on the Underground Railroad.”
Yes, Minerva thought doubtfully, but Harriet Tubman had never had Heather Miller and Samuel Chandler accompany her before, either. But she did not press the matter; she dutifully followed Bette and Mr. Greene, while holding Victor’s hand.
When they were back in the portable, Mr. Greene informed the group that he needed to make a small adjustment in longitude and latitude as John Brown’s trial was being held a few miles away in Charles Town beginning on October 25, 1859. The teacher found a convenient, unoccupied field, and set the classroom down, and applied the cloaking device.
As they approached the courthouse in Charles Town, soldiers ringed the building, supported by cannons.
“Why all the military, Mr. Greene?”
“The Virginians were paranoid. They thought there might be a rescue attempt for John Brown, and they were not going to take a chance that their prize prisoner might escape to the North.”