Northern Blood Page 7

  Chapter Seven

  May 3, 1864

  Potomac River, Virginia

  Black clouds billowed from the USS Hunchback’s smokestack and clogged the air with a bitter coal stench, and Wolf couldn’t care a lick in the whole world. A brisk wind whipped off the waters of the Potomac. In every way it was the opposite of Libby. It ruffled his hair and beard, and even his jacket collar shifted under its fresh, free, and wonderful spell. He closed his eyes, enjoying the clean air.

  The steamer had a crew of twenty-two men, including the captain, almost half of which were colored men. The ship was a converted side-wheel ferry that looked more like a swimming turtle than a floating instrument of war. Battered and dented armaments protected the wheels that propelled the ship along the sides.

  A single 12-pounder Dahlgren smoothbore howitzer mounted on an iron carriage rested near the rear of the watercraft. More stationary Dahlgren smoothbore guns bristled from places on the steamer that once held passengers, horses, and carriages as a ferry in New York City.

  The crew worked well together, and there was no dissension among them. They treated Wolf and Roberts with respect, and they had dined with Acting Master E.K. Valentine, who acted as captain, on their way from Fort Monroe north.

  After days on the river, the trees on either side of the Potomac were already burgeoning from petite buds to lush greenery, another retreating of spring before a summer campaign of war. As they sailed closer to Washington, Wolf had found himself in a precarious situation. He needed to find a way back to his unit without attracting too much attention. Otherwise, who knew what awaited him. The thought had preoccupied Roberts incessantly as the ship chugged north. The men stood near the bow, basking in the stench-free air.

  “We could go west. Land as far as the eye can see. Perhaps find some gold. I heard of men making it rich there.”

  Wolf’s voice dropped. “You mean desert?”

  “I see it as mustering out early.”

  Wolf shook his head. “If they found out, they’d send the marshal to hang us.”

  “If they found out. That’s a lot of land they’d have to search. A man could simply fade away into the wilderness.”

  “I ain’t looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

  “We could go north to Canada. Hunt beaver or bear pelts. Heard of men doing that.”

  “I’m no deserter. The army gave me a life. I ain’t turning my back on it.”

  “The army might turn their back on you. The army might hang you from a gallows until you were done dancing your jig.”

  “They won’t.” They absolutely could but he believed they wouldn’t. Prayed they wouldn’t. “When we reach the port, we shed these uniforms and walk our way back. Keep our story straight. No problems.”

  “What’s our story? We walked out of prison?”

  “Aye, we did.”

  “They’re going to want to meet the men who lifted Colonel Dahlgren’s body north. His father. Butler thought maybe even old Abe himself.”

  “Not if we’re nowhere to be found. Just two lowly enlisted back in our unit.”

  Roberts stared out, his dark eyes reading the treed shores. “As much as I hate prison, it’s been nice having everyone respecting us like.”

  “A small price to pay for freedom.”

  “Just to get killed fighting somewhere else. Suppose that was always to be the case.” He gripped the rail, looking like he might throw himself over.

  “Colonel Wolf!” Valentine cried. “Captain Roberts!” The commander of the ship climbed down a ladder from the wheelhouse and straightened his frock coat as he walked. “Don’t suppose you gentlemen would like to share a cigar with me before we land in Alexandria? It’s a bit of a tradition.”

  The two free men exchanged a look. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Wolf said.

  “It would be a pleasure, good Captain,” Roberts said with a slight bow of his head.

  Valentine removed three cigars from an interior pocket and handed them to the men. Striking a match, he lit his then handed the flame off.

  All three took in the scenes of a busy harbor and enjoyed the warm breeze. Dockside buildings came into view. Double-sailed schooners and steamships with giant wheels propelled passed them. Small fishing boats darted in and out and between the larger vessels. The Hunchback plodded along, carefully navigating through it all.

  Alexandria was the closest Southern-occupied city to Washington, D.C. It was right across the Potomac River from the nation’s capital, and when Virginia seceded, they were never given even an inch of freedom. Soon after Virginia’s defection from the Union, Federal troops poured across the river, seizing control of the important Potomac port. Rebel flags were torn down, and the citizens had been under the Federal government’s yoke ever since.

  “Slow her down,” Valentine called at his wheelhouse. Wolf didn’t see how they could go much slower than their current rate. The ferry wheels churned a fraction slower in its circular rotation. Black smoke diminished from her stack. The Hunchback’s speed decreased along with its soft wake in the brown waters.

  Valentine puffed happily. “Alexandria used to be a quaint town. Now look at her. It’s no more than a swollen belly of the Union Army.” Wagons rolled munitions. Brand new cannons were offloaded from ships. Union men in blue uniforms directed colored workers on the docks. Every part of the town bustled with activity, all of it seemingly related to the war effort.

  “She’s full of Union men.”

  “Aye, she is. Many are sick and wounded. Lots of missing limbs here. Must be almost thirty hospitals. See there.”

  Roberts and Wolf turned and scanned the city’s waterfront.

  “Those three buildings in a row.” He pointed out a four-story redbrick structure. “Used to be a bank and two stores. Now it only sells hands and feet.” The captain shook his head. “This war is changing us.”

  Wolf stretched his back and then pulled up on his rusty brace. The war was changing him too. He felt seasoned, like he’d seen enough for ten men. Then again perhaps he had. He knew one thing; he wasn’t going back to Libby. He’d die before that. He’d gained an acute understanding of Captain Yates’s desire to never return to the rat-infested prison and held the same distinct belief.

  “Used to trade and sell slaves here too. One of the main places to do it in the upper South. Kept them right over there before auction.”

  “Used to,” Wolf said.

  The captain wavered his head. “May come back someday. If the South wins.”

  Wolf puffed on his cigar. “They won’t.” He would see to that. He would see the nation’s ship righted her course or at least do whatever the army sent him to do, and win or lose, the army would have something for him to do.

  “I heard a lot of men say that. You should have seen them forcing everyone to sign the oath of allegiance. Ha. It was like pulling teeth. Hollering and screeching. Those will be some tough people to bring back into the fold.”

  “Captain, you sound like you may have Southern leanings yourself?”

  The captain placed a hand on his chest. “I am a realist. The Union pays, I sail for them. Either way, countries need ships and men to man ‘em. Trade happens regardless of who wins, and I will continue to be employed.”

  “You’d think with your kind of crew that you would be a Union man through and through.”

  The captain surveyed the colored men working his boat. “Let me tell you a secret. Those men over there work harder than any white man I’ve had on my crew. Many of ‘em are stronger. Don’t grumble, just do what they’re told. I’d take them all on if I wasn’t afraid of getting hung with ‘em if we got captured. I ain’t no John Brown.”

  “No. No. Of course not,” Roberts said.

  “We appreciate you taking us with you,” Wolf added.

  “The Hunchback goes where she’s told to go. No more, no less.” Valentine eyed the slips. “When this all cools down, might head west. Country’s growing. Westward.”

&
nbsp; Roberts nudged him with an elbow. “You see, Wolf? I told you west was the way to go.”

  “Ain’t nowhere else to go but the West,” Valentine said. More sailors traversed the deck now, prepping mooring ropes and preparing to dock. “But I’m just a man of the sea. Not sure how I’d fare with all you landlubbers.”

  Wolf eyed Roberts for a moment. Perhaps his friend was right. Maybe they should just head to the West and leave this god forsaken civil conflict to somebody else. Let other people bleed for this land.

  Valentine continued. “Fortunes to be had. Gold and land. What else do you need?”

  “There’s Indians out there,” Roberts suggested.

  “Where do you think you boys are headed after this here war?” Valentine looked at them. “If you stay in, you’ll go out West. Clear the way for the settlers.”

  “You think?” Wolf asked.

  “If you wasn’t fighting each other, you’d be rounding up those redskins and driving them out.”

  The captain’s words rang true. The country was spreading. Land was being gobbled up. Immigrants came by the boatload like Wolf’s people had in the recent past. The native peoples would continue to be driven away to make room for the newcomers.

  “But I’m just a sailing man. What would I know?” Valentine pointed at the wheelhouse. “Bring her in to the slip, Rodney.”

  The Hunchback began a slow eking turn into the docks. Over twenty ships lined the slips, some sail, tall masts poking toward the sky like bayonets, others steamships. The Hunchback bobbed its way into the slip, and colored men waited to help them moor. Ropes were flung between the ship and the quay. Once the ship was secured into place, the sailors stretched a gangway to the dock, and goods began to be unloaded.

  “We made it,” Roberts said. He smiled at Wolf and clasped hands with him. The men got closer and hugged, relief washing over them like a warm rain. Finally, they were back in the safe embrace of the Union capital region, far enough from the tortures of Richmond and the tens of thousands of troops and forts between them and any rebel armies.

  Valentine grabbed Wolf’s shoulder, sending him a painful reminder of his time with Captain Marshall Payne. “Welcome back, gentleman. Where would you like the good colonel?” He pointed at two Negro sailors holding a crude wooden coffin between them. Much to the appeasement of everyone, Butler had the body placed in a coffin in a cool place as to slow the decomposition and mask some of the stench.

  Wolf pointed out. “On the dock over there will be fine. We are expecting someone from the Admiral Dahlgren’s staff to pick him up.”

  “Very well. Until we meet again.” Valentine took his leave and joined his sailors, issuing orders at a shout.

  The two men collected their meager belongings and disembarked. The docks reeked of fish. They were surrounded on all sides by the active sounds of a wartime harbor. Horns blowing. Seagulls calling overhead. Men yelling to one another as they worked. On the streets, carts clanked along redbrick roads.

  “Now we have to ditch these uniforms and find out where the 13th is camped,” Wolf said.

  “What if they aren’t here?”

  “Then we find a way there.” The quay felt solid under his feet, but Roberts’s continuous worry was driving him mad.

  “I dunno. Maybe we should run.”

  Turning on him, Wolf grabbed by the scruff, hissing. “Where are we going to go?”

  Roberts raised his eyebrows. “West? I ain’t got no family to go back to.”

  “I ain’t going back home to tell my father I’m some sort of coward. I’d rather die.” He released his friend, smoothing Roberts’s uniform then clapping his shoulder. “We’ll go back to our command. We can’t let our brothers down. That’s our family and it ain’t right to desert them. Besides, what would Berles think?”

  “I wouldn’t want to let the sergeant down. He’s taken care of us.”

  “Me neither. I apologize for getting angry.”

  “Well, you ruffled my fine uniform.” Roberts pulled away. “You should treat a captain with more respect.”

  “We ain’t no officers. We’re just us.”

  They moved down the docks with a bit of pep in their step.

  “Excuse me.” An officer waved at them from the edge of the wharf. He was young with a clean-shaven face. His uniform was spotless, and he dodged around a pool of water to come closer. He peered down at a piece of paper before he spoke. “Colonel Wolf?” He lifted a hand in a hasty salute, and for the briefest of moments, Wolf forgot he was playing the colonel. “You came in on the Hunchback?”

  Wolf saluted back. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

  “Lieutenant Fox, sir. I am here on behalf of General Custer.”

  “Dahlgren’s body is on the dock waiting for transport.” Wolf pointed behind him.

  “Someone else will collect that. You are Johannes Wolf, are you not?” His eyes squinted as if he questioned his own words.

  Wolf felt the blood drain from his face. His gut churned like he had contracted a severe case of the Virginia Quickstep.

  The lieutenant turned toward Roberts. “And you are Ira Roberts?”

  “I am.” Roberts gulped and seemed to shrink in his jacket.

  “You came from Butler at Fort Monroe?”

  Wolf side-eyed Roberts. “We did.”

  Fox lifted his chin. “We’ve been expecting you. I’d like to welcome you back to the Army of the Potomac.”

  A breath escaped Wolf’s lips, and he relaxed for a moment. “It’s good to be back.”

  “Come this way,” Fox said. The lieutenant was a quick walker, and Wolf had to hurry his pace so as to not be left behind. They walked over a redbrick road. Carts bustled past. Fox sidestepped a suspicious puddle again. A squad of infantry marched down the center of the street, muskets on their shoulders.

  Halting, Fox lifted a hand and spun on them. His eyes narrowed as he spoke, causing Wolf to tense. “By the authority placed in me by the United States, you men are under arrest.”

  Wolf and Roberts stopped, frozen in the street. Their eyes searched for a way out. Filthy brown water lapping around the wharf could provide an escape. The infantry squad halted. The sergeant on the edge of the formation lowered his hand. “Ready!” The soldiers raised their muskets to their shoulders.

  The lieutenant lifted his chin in righteous authority. “You men come peacefully, and that will be taken into consideration during your trial.”

  Wolf’s hand slipped to the knife on his belt. Neither man had any other weapon. They were mere passengers until they had a chance to be refitted by a quartermaster.

  Spit flew from Fox’s mouth. “Do not try me, Corporal. I will not ask again.”

  “Aim!” the sergeant shouted. Gun barrels were sighted upon them, waiting to breathe forth fire like slender dragons. The soldiers squinted on the other side. At this short distance, they would make quick work of them.

  “I ain’t trying to die today,” Roberts whispered.

  “Surrender or get shot. Take your pick,” Fox called to them almost as if he dared them to run.

  “Maybe they’ll just flog us?” Roberts squeaked.

  “Corporal, surrender,” Fox called at him.

  Citizens and passersby began to gather, chattering to one another and pointing at the confrontation near the docks: Union men preparing to shoot Union men.

  Wolf sighed, letting his hands lift into the air. “We surrender.”

  “Sergeant, restrain these men,” Fox said with a sneer.

  The infantrymen jogged forward, using the butts of their muskets to usher the prisoners along. Wolf’s blade was taken from him again.

  “I’ll be getting that back.”

  The private smiled at him. “Dead man don’t need no things.”

  “I ain’t going to die.”

  “Private,” Fox ordered, “give that over.” His face darkening, the private handed the blade to his commanding officer. There was always a pecking order among soldiers, thieves, and clergy.


  The squad marched the prisoners around a street corner to a three-story redbrick building. Its sides were whitewashed, and a single-story brick warehouse was attached. A strip of white had been painted above the doors. The outline of letterings read Price, Birch & Co., Dealers in Slaves. A Union man lounged in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The doors were open to the interior.

  Fox nodded to the man. The man smiled with blackened teeth. “Got some fancy boys today.”

  “Do not be fooled by their coats. They are enlisted, Corporal Mack. I place them in your custody.”

  “Follow me then.”

  Wolf stopped in the doorway. A sharp buttstock into his lower back propelled him through. The interior of the building was dark and had a couple of desks inside. A rusted cross-barred iron gate was open, and Mack stepped through into the adjacent warehouse.

  “The one on the end will do for these two.”

  The warehouse held a long row of cells; each had a thick wooden door with a latch and lock. The floor was planked and stained with mud. There were chains and hooped rings on the walls along with manacles. They were rusted and empty, dangling reminders of the trade in human flesh.

  Mack noticed them staring at the chains and spoke. “When we first arrived in Alexandria, there was still one of them darkies chained up there. Half-dead like they’d forgot him. That’s how quick those rebs ran out of here.”

  Wolf and Roberts were shoved into the holding cell. The door closed behind them. The room was almost entirely dark with an overwhelming damp musty smell. The only fresh air or light came through the small cutout holes in the door hardly large enough for a man to fit his fingers through. There were no benches or beds, just a plank floor and a leaky bucket.

  “Corporal, I will return when it is decided how to proceed with them.”

  “Oh, you know. They ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Mack grabbed the door and shook it. “Strong oak.” He looked through a hole at them. “What you boys in for?”

  “Impersonating an officer,” Roberts said.

  “Ha, where’d you get that idea? You know they don’t like nobody like yourself in their club.”