Antebellum BK 1

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “What?” Johnny was on his feet.

  “Now slow down,” Abraham cautioned. “We don’t have the same rights that you do and if you...”

  “Of course you have the same rights,” Johnny argued.

  “You’re wrong, son,” Abraham insisted. “For a long time we’ve been treated as equals because of your family’s influence. But times have changed and the Fugitive Slave Act made everyone more aware and suspicious of black folks.”

  “Let’s go get Samuel,” Johnny said. “If the sheriff tries to stop us I can have a court order in my hands in the time it takes me to ride to Elizabeth and back. Trust me. We may not have as much influence here as we once did, but the family’s still got its share of lawyers, judges and politicians. I guarantee that I can get Samuel released.”

  “Okay.” Abraham got up. “I think you’re wrong, but there’s sure no harm in trying.”

  May 15, 1852

  Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey

  Johnny peeked in through the bedroom door.

  “Come in, Johnny,” Ginger said. “He’s awake.”

  Johnny walked into the room and stopped at the foot of the bed. “How’re you feeling, Sam?”

  “Like I might live,” Samuel replied. “Momma told me what you did. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do anything but visit my cousin Robert Livingston. He bowled over the county officials in about ten minutes.”

  “Wish I could have seen that,” Abraham said from the doorway. “I’ve grown to hate that damned sheriff and his nephew.”

  “We’ll have to do something about them,” Johnny agreed. “I’ll go over to Elizabeth and talk to the Livingston branch of the family before I go to West Point.”

  Ginger looked up at him. “So you decided to go after all.”

  Johnny shook his head. “I’m going to Pug’s graduation. I may spend some time with my brother after that.”

  “Or you might decide you like it,” Abraham said.

  Johnny shrugged. “It’s possible.”

  May 19, 1852

  Washington, D.C.

  Anna read the graduation announcement, put it back in the envelope, then searched through the balance of the mail until she found an identical envelope addressed to Nancy.

  “Something interesting?” Nancy asked as she came into the foyer.

  “No. Just a wedding invitation from a distant cousin who’s hoping for an expensive gift.” She handed Nancy the mail but hid the two graduation announcements behind her back so that Nancy couldn’t see the gilded seal on the envelopes.

  Nancy began to look through the stack of letters. “Are we still planning to go to Concord next week to visit Louisa Alcott and her merry group of transcendentalists?”

  “No. These Underground Railroad people are very secretive and suspicious. Before we go to Concord they want us to meet Harriet’s brother, Henry Beecher.”

  “When and where?”

  “On June the first, at his church in Brooklyn.”

  “Oh, here’s a letter from Johnny,” Nancy said, picking an envelope from the stack.

  Anna held her hand out but Nancy ignored her and opened the letter, leaving Anna to watch her nervously.

  “Oh. This is horrible,” Nancy said after skimming the letter.

  “What?” Anna braced herself.

  Nancy offered her the letter. “You better read it yourself. It’s about Abe, Ginger and Samuel.”

  “Oh.” Anna said, trying to hide her relief. “Just a minute. I have to visit the water closet.” Keeping the two invitations hidden she hurried into her bedroom and quickly scribbled regrets on both, then put them in a single envelope, sealed it and addressed it to the activities director of the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York. When she returned to the parlor, Nancy was reading Johnny’s letter again. “Sorry, Nancy. I’m back.”

  “Maybe we should get Abe and Ginger a ticket on the Underground Railroad.” Nancy gave the letter to Anna.

  “If we could ever find the Underground Railroad.” Anna read the letter quickly, then started over.

  “The worst thing, to me, is that Abe hasn’t asked us for our help,” Nancy said. “If Johnny hadn’t just happened to be there…” She wrinkled her brow. “Hey, wait. What’s he doing there now?”

  “He must have decided to accept the appointment to West Point and he stopped by to see Abe and Ginger on the way,” Anna replied in a dismissive tone.

  “He didn’t say that he was going to accept the appointment in his letter. And even if he was going to, classes don’t start until September, do they?”

  “I don’t know, Nancy.”

  “Maybe he’s planning to spend the summer with Quincy and Paul.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Now wait a minute.” Nancy wrinkled her brow in concentration. “Isn’t this Quincy’s last year? Shouldn’t he be graduating in June?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. He’s my son.” She put Johnny’s letter on the coffee table. “Before we go to Brooklyn to meet Reverend Beecher or to Concord to meet Miss Alcott, I think we should take a few days to spend with Abe and Ginger.”

  “I agree. Can you take some time off now and again in June?”

  “There’s nothing important happening here at the moment. The weather’s nice enough for me to take the boat back and forth between the New York office and The Point.”

  “They have a ferry now that goes from Staten Island to Manhattan.”

  “Too crowded. I’d rather sail.”

  “You’re not as young as you once were, Anna. What if something goes wrong?”

  “The Bay’s full of boats, Nancy. If I got in trouble I’d only have to whistle.”

  “Jesus, you’re hard-headed.”

  “Just because I won’t do it your way?”

  May 24, 1852

  Van Buskirk Point, New Jersey

  Abe shook his head. “No thank you, Anna. No matter what the Congress says, we’re Americans. I’m not going to run away.”

  “I understand,” Anna said.

  “But,” he raised his index finger, “I don’t want to sit here passively and be walked on like a doormat.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “Good. Then you’ll arrange a meeting for me with the Underground Railroad.”

  “You just said…”

  “I don’t want to ride on the Railroad,” he interrupted, “I want to be a conductor.”

  “Have you any idea how dangerous that would be for you?” Anna asked.

  “Yes. Just exactly as dangerous as it is for you. The punishment is the same, white or black. Six months in jail and a thousand dollar fine. In that, my skin color doesn’t make any difference.”

  She looked flustered.

  “What do you say?”

  “You realize that I don’t know anything,” Anna said.

  “You have a contact. Give me his name.”

  “I have a few contacts but I can’t give you their names yet. I’m just beginning to make some headway myself.”

  “Then give them my name.”

  “Okay,” she said after a pause. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “God bless you.”

  “God bless us all.”

  June 1, 1852

  Brooklyn, New York

  Henry Ward Beecher was handsome and well-built, with long blond hair and a charming smile. Since 1847, he had been the minister of the new Plymouth Congregational Church in Brooklyn where he had achieved a great deal of fame. Now as a lecturer in high demand, the editor of several religious magazines, and a successful novelist, he was accustomed to and expected the admiration of beautiful women. “These things take time,” he said, looking from Nancy to Anna. “Perhaps you might wish to stay here and work with me until the proper arrangements can be made.”

  “I cancelled a very important engagement to meet with you today,” Anna complained. She was quite obviously upset. “So far our
contact with your Underground Railroad has been very unsatisfactory. We’ve been to St. Louis and beyond, delivering your rifles, but we keep being put off and shuffled from one person to another regarding the Railroad. It’s very discouraging.”

  “I am sorry that you feel that way.” Beecher gave her his warmest smile, which was intended to melt her heart. “But I assure you that working here with me would be of great service to the cause.”

  “Servicing you is not what we had in mind,” Anna grumbled.

  “We only volunteered to deliver your rifles to the abolitionists in Nebraska,” Nancy said, before he could reply. “Just save the seduction for your wife. Neither Anna nor I is interested in joining your harem.”

  Beecher’s face was red. “How dare you?”

  “Stop it,” Nancy said shaking her head. “It’s ridiculous for you to deny something that all three of us know to be true.”

  “Our meeting is concluded,” Beecher said woodenly.

  Anna shrugged. “Your sister is going to be very disappointed.”

  “My sister will have to deal with her disappointment,” Beecher replied. “I should never have entrusted thousands of dollars worth of rifles to two adventuresses. Good day to you both.”

  “What do you mean?” Anna asked hotly.

  “I mean that you’ve delivered your last rifle,” Beecher said.

  “We’ll pay you for the rifles,” Nancy said.

  He shook his head.

  Anna nodded. “We’ll pay double your cost.”

  He folded his arms. “Please don’t make me call our security staff.”

  Anna and Nancy exchanged a glance, then they stood up, walked from the office, out into the common and turned toward the street.

  “Shit,” Anna hissed angrily.

  Nancy turned to look back at the ministry office. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But the man’s eyes never left my breasts except to stare at yours.”

  “He’s an erect phallus that talks.”

  Nancy choked, then burst out laughing.

  “It’s not funny. What do we do now for rifles?”

  Nancy shrugged. “I’ll sleep with him to get the rifles and then we’ll meet Louisa Alcott and be on our way to Nebraska.”

  Anna shuddered. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that for anything.”

  “I really wouldn’t mind,” Nancy said.

  Anna shook her head. “Your taste in men aside, I’d hate to let him win. He’s using a good cause to get himself laid. That’s unconscionable.”

  “If you really want to keep doing this, we have to have Beecher’s patronage.”

  “Do you want to sleep with him, Nancy?”

  “I’d rather be horsewhipped, but if it gets us what we want…”

  “Then the answer is no.” Anna took Nancy’s arm and propelled her down the street. “Let’s go to Concord and meet Miss Alcott. We’ll find another source of rifles.”

  “Katherine gave me the name and address of a man in Oswego that’s instrumental in transporting runaway slaves to Canada. He doesn’t have any connection to Beecher or his Bibles, but he may give us another source of the Sharps rifles.”

  “Slaves to Canada,” Anna repeated. “That sounds like someone we’ve been looking for in the Underground Railroad. Why didn’t you mention him sooner?”

  “The opportunity didn’t arise.”

  “Do you know how to get in touch with this man?”

  “Yes. I have his name and address in my diary back at the hotel. All I can remember is that he’s in Oswego.”

  “Write to him when we get back and tell him that Abe’s interested in joining the Underground Railroad.”

  “That’s very risky.”

  “Abe knows the risk and he wants to take it. I promised I’d try to help him.”

  “Should I tell the man in Oswego that we’re interested too?”

  Anna shook her head. “No. We’ll keep him as a backup in case our meeting with Louisa Alcott next week is a bust.”

  “Should I ask him about rifles?”

  “No. One of my brothers or someone at the paper will know where we can buy them ourselves. Come to think of it, there’s a gun shop in Elizabeth. We’ll start there.”

  “Can we do that? Just buy rifles on the open market and do the same thing that Beecher does?”

  “Why not? Any fool can stencil a crate with the word ‘Bibles’ on it. What’s so difficult about that?”

  June 1, 1852

  West Point, New York

  With a boisterous and prolonged cheer, the Class of ’52 threw their hats into the air. Quincy Van Buskirk caught a hat that wasn’t his, read the name, found the owner and returned it. As the graduates began to thin, his cousins Paul and Johnny hurried toward him. Paul was wearing his Plebe uniform and Johnny, in civilian clothes, had Quincy’s hat in his hand. “Congratulations, Pug.” Johnny gave Quincy the hat and shook his hand.

  “Thanks.” Quincy set the hat squarely on his head. “I didn’t see any of the family. Did you?”

  Paul shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Your mother must be very busy,” Johnny said.

  Paul nodded agreement. “I’m sure she wanted to come, but with everything that’s happening, she must have been too busy.”

  “I sort of thought Aunt Nancy might come,” Quincy said.

  “Maybe she didn’t know,” Paul suggested.

  “I sent her an invitation,” Quincy said.

  “Did you look at the RSVP list?” Paul asked.

  Quincy nodded. “They weren’t on it, but I thought that maybe...” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He led the boys through the celebrating families toward the River.

  “Did you get your orders yet?” Johnny asked.

  “Not officially, but the Supe told me that I’d be ordered to one of the forts at Charleston when he gave me this.” He looked down proudly at the medal on his chest. “Did you know that this is an official Department of War decoration? I can wear it on my uniform forever.”

  “It’s a unique honor,” Paul agreed. “We’re very proud of you.”

  “Thank you,” Quincy said. “I’m glad to have received it from Superintendent Brewerton. You’ll have a new Supe next year. Robert E. Lee, class of twenty-nine. Never received a demerit. He’s bound to be a tougher taskmaster than Superintendent Brewerton.”

  “Too bad you screwed up your plebe year so badly,” Johnny said. “Otherwise you’d have been first in your class.”

  Paul punched Johnny on the shoulder. “But then he wouldn’t have gotten the Supe’s special award of merit.”

  Johnny moved out of punching range. “Third in your class isn’t bad, Pug. I just meant…”

  “I know what you meant and you’re right, Johnny,” Quincy said. “I wish I could do it over, but I can’t. Just don’t make the same mistake I did. Your plebe year sets up the rest of your time here.”

  “Johnny may not accept his appointment,” Paul said.

  Quincy looked at Johnny in surprise. “Is that true?”

  “When will you be leaving for South Carolina?” Johnny asked.

  Quincy realized that Johnny was derailing him, but decided to allow it. “Sometime after the commissioning ceremony tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Johnny repeated. “That soon?”

  Quincy nodded. “Are you two planning to spend the summer here?”

  “Not here in West Point,” Paul said. “But here in the East. At Van Buskirk Point or Liberty Hall, most likely.”

  “I meant that you’re still not going home to Texas,” Quincy clarified.

  “The trip takes so long that we just get a few days at home and have to start back,” Johnny said.

  “Back?” Paul grinned. “So you are going to accept the appointment?”

  “I was going to tell you later.” Johnny looked embarrassed. “I enrolled yesterday and already have my room assignment.”

  Quincy slapped him on the back. “That’s good news. I was
afraid I’d have to beat the hell out of you.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Johnny said. “Wait until I tell you what happened at Van Buskirk Point.”

  “Later,” Paul said.

  Johnny nodded disappointedly.

  “Was anyone there at the Home Place in New Jersey?” Quincy asked casually.

  “Your mother’s in Washington,” Paul offered, answering Quincy’s unspoken question. “I think.”

  “Or she may be in the Nebraska territory,” Johnny suggested. “Uncle Robert mentioned her coming there in a recent letter.”

  “Sometimes she stays with Aunt Nancy in New York,” Paul added. “She never writes to me. But Aunt Nancy does – sometimes.”

  “I haven’t heard from either of them recently,” Quincy replied. “You might pass the word that I’m in South Carolina, if anyone asks.”

  “How will you get there?” Johnny asked. “By train?”

  Quincy shook his head. “Steamboat from here to New York, then a clipper to Charleston. It should be quite an adventure.”

  “I wish we were going with you,” Johnny said.

  Quincy put his arm around the smaller boy. “Me too. But you’ll be surprised at how fast the next four years pass.”

  Johnny waved to another boy in civilian clothes. “Hello, Fitz,” he shouted. “Come here and meet my famous cousin.” He looked from Quincy to Paul. “He’s going to be my roommate. Don’t give him any trouble. His uncle is the new Superintendent.”

  “Another Lee,” Quincy said with a grin. “They’ll soon be catching up to us.”

  “Fitzhugh Lee,” Johnny said proudly as the other boy joined them, “Please allow me to present Second Lieutenant Pug Van Buskirk and Cadet Major Paul Van Buskirk. My cousin and my brother, of both of whom I’m very proud.”

  “And I’m proud to make their acquaintances,” Lee said with an engaging smile. “Congratulations, sir.” He shook Quincy’s hand. “An honor to meet you, Major.” He shook Paul’s hand.