The Return of the Freedom Thief

by Mikki Sadil

  Captain Billby stood and offered his hand to Ben. “Stick around, I want to talk to you some more, but I’ve got to get with a couple of my officers and get this new route worked out.”

  * * *

  The sun was high by the time the troops had completed packing up the camp and moved out. Ben rode along with the Captain, on a borrowed horse. He sat easy in the saddle, thinking about Socks. He had grown to love that horse, and hoped Puck had been able to take care of both him and Bandit. He wondered about Puck. She’s a funny girl. Complex, full of fight and contrariness, but she has such a good heart. I miss her. I know it was right for her to say with Glory, but sometimes I wish she was still with me.

  Captain Billby reached out and put his hand on Ben’s shoulder.

  “Sorry, Ben, you seemed to be in deep thought, but I need to talk to you. I have a friend in Allentown who runs an espionage ring. She’s had great luck with it, and I think you should consider joining up with her. You’re young for a courier, but I think she could use you.”

  Ben frowned. “There was this lady, Mistress Fenaway, in Lexington, who had a spy ring, too. She wanted me to join up with her, but I never got a chance to get back to Kentucky. Why do you think I should join with this other lady?”

  “Because you’re on your own. You’re just an errand boy for the Union, carrying messages back and forth between one camp and another. You’re going to get caught, Ben, you’ve been doing this awhile, and your time for good luck is running out. With a home base, and some professional instruction on what a real courier does, your chances of being detected and caught are about 100 percent less.”

  “I reckon I’ve managed pretty well so far. Being young works in my favor because I’m always able to convince the Confederates I’m one of them, and just trying to find my family.”

  “Ben, the Confederates aren’t stupid. Do you think word never gets around that there’s a young fella on the loose, who says he’s looking for his family? One of these days you’re going to meet up with a Reb who’s already seen you at least once before. He won’t believe you a second time and you’ll end up dead or in a Rebel prison. With someone like Mistress Henshaw behind you, you’ll be dressed differently and you’ll know all the right things to say if you are caught.”

  Ben rode on silently for a while. The Captain knew he was thinking about what had been said, so he didn’t push him for an answer.

  Finally, Ben said, “Okay, Captain, I’ve thought about it, and I reckon you’re probably right, about the timing and all. So, I’m willing to meet with this lady, and see what she says.”

  Before the Captain could reply, shots rang out in front and to the side. Captain Billby galloped towards the front of the line, shouting “Take cover, take cover!”

  The next few minutes were a blur of shouting, swearing, men running, horses and mules neighing in fright. Abruptly, there was utter quiet. No gun shots, no musket balls exploding overhead. Ben had already spurred his horse off the road and into the brush. He jumped off, and pulled on the reins to make the horse lie down. The animal was slower to respond than Socks would have been, but eventually was flat out on the ground. Ben huddled behind the horse, cursing the fact that although he had his rifle and pistol, he was just not mentally ready to fire upon another human being.

  Another minute passed in silence. Then, yelling broke out again from across the road. The Confederates were up on their feet, and shooting more or less blindly into the brush along the edge of the road, and into the woods beyond. The yelling grew louder, more animated, and it made Ben shiver. It was an eerie sound, high-pitched, without words, almost a scream, and every soldier seemed to be yelling in time with every other soldier. The sheer volume and ear-piercing level of sound hurt his ear drums, and sent shudders through his body. He looked around at the Union troops crouched on the ground around him, and he could see the same type of reaction on their faces and bodies. The sound was so sharp and unexpected it seemed to sap the ability of the Union soldiers to fire back.

  As the Rebels began to cross the road, Captain Billby stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Fire! Fire!”

  Immediately, his troops reacted as though suddenly freed from physical bonds. A volley of rifle and musket fire rang out, and Confederate soldiers dropped in the middle of the road. Those who were left, turned and headed back in the direction they had come from. A few more volleys from the Federals, and then, again, utter silence. The Confederate threat appeared to have been overcome. Not a single Union soldier had been killed or wounded, but the Rebels couldn’t say the same.

  Ben pulled his horse up from the ground, and mounted. He unsheathed his rifle, but dreaded the thought of having to fire it at another human. The Union soldiers came back into formation, and began the long march again to Allentown. Ben waited until most of the company had passed before he moved out. He looked down at the bodies of the Confederate soldiers sprawled out in the middle of the road, and shuddered at how young and defenseless they seemed in death. Yet he knew that only a few minutes before, the skirmish had been one of kill or be killed. Still, it seemed inhumane to simply pass them by, horses having to step over the bodies as they moved forward. He shook his head, passed a hand across his eyes to swipe at the tears, and spurred his horse forward.

  * * *

  The following day, Ben followed Captain Billby to a large, white columned house near the main street of Allentown. They were met at the door by a young girl whose startlingly red hair sprang out all over her head, escaping from the white maid’s bonnet she had on.

  “Captain Billby, it’s nice to see you again. Come in, Mistress Henshaw will see you in the library. I’m sure you know the way.” She smiled flirtatiously, and stepped aside so the Captain and Ben could enter.

  The Captain led the way through the large entry to the library. He opened the door and motioned for Ben to walk in. He had barely closed the door when it opened again, and a tall, slender woman entered. She swung her crinoline hoop skirts aside, and walked briskly in. She greeted the Captain warmly, and stared at Ben standing in front of her.

  “Well, Charles, what do we have here? You don’t usually bring young gentlemen with you when you come to call.”

  The Captain smiled. “This isn’t a social call, Elizabeth. You have standing before you one Ben McKenna, a fledgling spy. Actually, he’s been working as a newsboy for some time, but I brought him to you because I think he would make a superb courier. He just needs a home base, plus a little education in the fine art of espionage.”

  Ben started to speak, but Mistress Henshaw put her finger to her lips as she continued to stare at him. She walked around him, then stopped in front of him.

  “Ben McKenna, please sit down. Tell me about yourself, and why I should take you into my espionage company?”

  Ben gave her a brief rundown of his life, the fact that his family, other than his grandmother, was imbedded in the slavery institution, but that he wasn’t. He told her about saving Josiah and his parents, and their long journey to find the Ohio River and freedom.

  “When I came home, Pa had me arrested, and the judge made me go with Pa and work on the plantation like I was a slave. Pa…”

  “You worked for your father just like a slave? That’s outrageous! No wonder you decided to leave home and become a spy! But, Ben, how old are you?”

  “I’m sixteen, ma’am. I started as a newsboy so I could get into the Confederate camps and talk to the soldiers. It was easy to find out about troop movements and things like that, to take back to the Federals. But Captain Billby thinks I’m too old to move about as a newsboy, so that’s why he brought me here.”

  “Hmm. Yes, I can see that. You’re tall and quite well filled out. The newsboys are much younger. All right. You are a handsome lad, I think you will clean up quite well. Are you willing to stay here, learn a few things, and then do as I say? I expect willingness and obedience from my people, as well as initiative. You will learn how to dress the part, as spies…good spies…are ac
tors as well. You will learn what to say, how to say it, and when to say it in the right situations. At the same time, you are expected to be able to assess a situation, and turn that situation into one that will work advantageously for you. Failing that, you will be expected to escape from that situation without being caught. So, Benjamin…what do you say?”

  Ben felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. Once again his life was going to change direction drastically. Even as he nodded to Mistress Henshaw, and told her he would be staying, he wondered if his life would end somewhere in the middle of this Civil War, or if, eventually, he would be able to go home again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lessons in Spying, and a Town of Death

  June, 1862

  The next few months were hectic for Ben. He took classes in Encryption, in Flag Signaling, in Decoding, and in Pigpen Ciphering. Sometimes he wondered if this wasn’t overkill, but the other men and women who worked in this espionage ring didn’t seem to mind. Still, he wondered if he would actually ever need all this knowledge. When he wasn’t busy learning how to be a spy, he was learning how to dress and act the part of a spy. His unruly mop of auburn hair was cut and trimmed in the latest men’s style, while the scraggly reddish beard he had grown, simply because he didn’t have access to shaving tools, was shaved off. His ‘work clothes’ now became two pairs of black breeches, long black boots, two or three vanilla colored, stylish shirts, a black vest, and either a long heavy black winter coat with a fur collar, or a shorter, lighter weight black and tan jacket for summer.

  He sat down on the bed and thought about his first and only mission, so far, for Mistress Henshaw. It was the end of March, and still cold enough to freeze the rain. Because he was a novice spy, she had selected him to travel halfway across Virginia to Middleton, a large town with a newly build Union fort, held by a substantial number of Union soldiers. He was to do nothing more than carry a message to the commander of the fort. Mistress Henshaw had heard about a small number of Confederate soldiers, especially selected, who were on their way to Middleton. Their plan was to raid the telegraph office and then cut all the telegraph wires. After that, they also intended to disrupt train travel by digging up the rails leading in to Middleton. This would create havoc, as the fort there was a large supply post for the Union.

  With Ben traveling alone, and on a fast horse, he would be able to reach Middleton before the Confederates.

  Mistress Henshaw had told him it would take four days of fast riding to complete his mission. It would take almost a week for the Confederates to get there, as they would not be mounted, but he had no time to waste. She handed him an encoded message, which he hid inside his belt, and sent him on his way.

  The horse he was given was a Thoroughbred, big, strong, and trained for fast running over long periods of time. He was saddled and ready for Ben when he went to the barn. With a rifle in a scabbard and a bedroll fastened securely behind the saddle, Ben mounted and rode off.

  Now, he remembered how cold he was, how he had ridden in the freezing rain for hours at a time, trying to find shelter even if for only a short time. Usually there was none, for forests had given way to wide open fields, and the roads he took had been churned into sticky mud that pulled at his horse’s feet and successfully turned a gallop into a trot at best. The days and nights had seemed to pass into one moment of time, until he was unsure of the date or if he was going to reach Middleton in time. The only thing going for him was that he did not meet any soldiers, Confederate or Union, during his entire ride. He finally reached the fort, had given the encoded message to the Union Colonel, and been slapped on the back for delivering it in time for the Union to take action. The Colonel had insisted he rest up for two days, citing the need for his horse to also rest and be fed good hay and grain before undertaking the trip back to Mistress Henshaw. Ben had gratefully accepted his offer.

  Sighing, Ben stood and checked himself again in the mirror. He was careful to look the way Mistress Henshaw wanted, as she had again summoned him to her office. He wondered what kind of mission she would send him on today. He chuckled a little, as he thought of what it had been like in March: at least, now it was June, and the weather was mostly warm and sunny.

  He finished combing his hair, looked at himself in the mirror, and laughed. I wonder what Grammy would think if she saw me dressed up this way. I sure don’t look like how I was when I left the plantation.

  Thinking about his family brought a wave of remembrance of better times that threatened to overcome him. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. No time to wonder what was happening on the Tate Plantation, and who was, or was not, left of his family. He knew intuitively that thinking about home and family could mean disaster to him, because it softened his senses and made him less aware of the tasks ahead of him, and less observant of the people around him. He shook his head at the image in the mirror, turned and left the bedroom. Time to see what Mistress Henshaw wanted of him.

  * * *

  “Ah, there you are, Ben. And how handsome you look! Come and sit down, I have made some plans and I need you to carry them out.”

  Mistress Henshaw motioned for Ben to sit opposite her at her desk. She had a mound of papers and maps cluttering the desktop. She pulled out a map and turned it around to show him.

  “Ben, this is where we are.” She pointed to a spot on the map of Virginia. “Here is where I want you to go.” She pointed to another spot, this time in the state of Maryland. “We believe the Confederates are planning an attack on Washington, D.C., and the Federals must have advance information about this. You are the least likely person in my organization to attract attention, because you are new. I have a new jacket for you to wear, it’s heavy enough for the cool June evenings, but not so bulky as your winter coat. This jacket has the documents you are to deliver sewn into the jacket sleeves. Once you have arrived at your destination, the sleeves will be torn open, so I advise you to put your other jacket in your saddle bags.”

  “You said saddle bags, so I’m to be riding?”

  “Yes. I have a very good mount picked out for you. Most of the way you will be riding through forested lands, but…there is one problem. Have you ever forded a river before?”

  Ben looked at her in amusement. “Yes, ma’am, I’ve forded many brooks and streams, some very fast running, and a river or two. Why?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Potomac River?”

  He nodded. “I’ve read about it, in school books. Never been close to it, that I recall.”

  Mistress Henshaw moved the map over to his side of the desk. “Here, here, and here are the places where you can cross the river the most easily. The Potomac is very long, very wide in many places, and extremely dangerous the closer you get to Maryland and Washington. There are places where the chances of being swept away and drowned are exceedingly high. You must cross at any one of these marked places, otherwise you simply won’t be able to, and you will fail on this most important mission. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, Mistress. Can I take this map with me?”

  “No, not this one. I have another one marked for you which doesn’t have some of the important logistic information on it, as this one does. You will have your sidearm with you at all times, and your rifle in your scabbard. There is extra ammunition for both weapons in one of the saddle bags, along with some food. I suggest you take an extra bit of clothing in the other bag, I’m sure you will need it. Oh, you will also find the information as to whom you will give the jacket, and where you will find this person once you get to Maryland. This is in the bag with the ammunition. I expect you to leave at once, Ben. We are through here.”

  She stood and held out her hand. “Good luck. As soon as you have finished your mission, return here as quickly as you can.”

  Ben shook her hand, gave her a small bow, and left the room. He went up to his room, folded an extra pair of pants, a shirt, and his lighter-weight jacket, put them under one arm, and headed down for the stables.


  The man waiting for him was Joesie, the freed black slave. He had once been tall and strong, but now was bowed from years of slavery in another part of the South. His clothes were old but clean, his boots worn but polished. Wiry grey curls escaped from under a broad-rimmed straw hat, and white teeth gleamed when he smiled at Ben. “Hey, dere, Mister Ben, I been waitin’ for you. This here horse is Mack, he be a right good horse for you, dat’s for sure. Now, I gots ever’thing fixed right up for you. Dis here saddle bag what gots food and other stuff the Mistress wants for you. Dis other one you puts in them clothes you carryin’. Ever’thing else you need you be findin’ in dis here bedroll behind your saddle. Now, your rifle I puts right here in the scabbard, and here is your pistol and belt. Mistress say for you to put that on, right now whilst’ I watch, you hear?”

  Ben smiled, and put the belt with the holster around his waist, fastened it, then checked the pistol.

  Joesie frowned, and put his hand on the weapon. “Now you see here, Mister Ben, I always knows what I be doin’. That there pistol is clean, right as can be, and loaded, too. You jest put it right into that holster, and it be right as rain. You hear?”

  Ben laughed, and patted the man on his arm. “I believe you, Joesie. I reckon you know what you are doing. But what kind of man would I be if I didn’t check my weapon myself?”

  “I spose you be right ‘bout dat, Mister Ben. Jest didn’t want you to think I’s not know to do my job. Now, here is dat jacket what Mistress say you be wearin’. I helps you to put it on.”