A foul wind was on the rise, and as it swept through the compound, the odor of unwashed bodies and the sinks blew sickly about. It was worse at night in the confines of the leaky barracks, where a hard board served as a communal bunk that all were obliged to lay upon, spooning when the air turned chilly. Stephen hardly noticed it, as the smells were now commonplace. Indeed, it was the common that now jarred him. Thoughts of the outside world intruded. Hunger was the only thing he’d not gotten used to, even after volunteering. Since his arrival at Camp Chase, food was a constant reminder that he was not meant to be caged.
“What we going to do if we get out?” Peter worked his carving knife over the pawn.
“Say it a little louder,” Lewis scolded. The tall man looked up and fixed Peter with an icy stare. “We’re going to run!” he said.
Peter looked about, startled at the rebuke.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Stephen whispered.
“Get into Columbus and blend in, make our way out of the city and hole up until dark somewhere. Some of the officers have been given paroles and are allowed to walk about the city freely; I figure we’ll just act like we’re supposed to be there.” In low tones, Lewis continued, “We’ll need to get some food and clothes once we’re out. But this is farm country, and they might be folk who’ll sympathize. Anyway, there’ll be people to give us what we want—willingly or otherwise. We’ll just see what we see.”
“I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to take a long dip in the first river we come to an’ wash the weeks off!” Peter cried with a grin.
“Dammit Peter! Keep your voice down!”
“Sorry,” Peter whined.
“You’d better hope no one hears you, or I’ll give you a washin’ in the river you’ll regret!” Lewis kicked Peter hard in the thigh.
With a pained look of despair and surprise, Peter scooted a little further away from Lewis.
“After we hole up, we’ll have to split up. We’ll be suspicious as a group but not so much so individually,” Lewis continued as he gave the last board a tug and it broke free, leaving an opening at one end.
“Split up?” Peter cried and quickly scooted further away from Lewis. “But I can’t make it on my own!”
“Well, you ain’t comin’ with me!” Lewis snapped.
Peter looked from man to man, his eyes pleading silently.
“You stick with me,” Stephen said. “We’ll all make our way as best we can.”
Relieved, Peter returned to his carving.
“You think Kentucky is the best place to make for?” Stephen asked Lewis, his tone guarded.
“Yeah, Kentucky is our best bet still. Some new prisoners arrived the other day. They say Kirby Smith’s started a movement into Kentucky to force the Federals out. We make for our lines there. We only have the river to worry about crossing. We’ll each have to deal with it when we get there.”
Lewis admired his handiwork for a moment and then set the box down at Peter’s feet. “Get in and see if you can fit through the hole.”
Peter looked at Lewis, undecided if he should trust him, then crawled underneath the box as Lewis lifted an end. Peter, drawing his knees up to his chest, was able to fit underneath and be invisible save for the box’s rocking to and fro as he tried to free his arms.
“Stop rocking the box! You’ll have to get situated without upsetting it,” Lewis scolded as he stood with his hands on his hips. “Can you use the saw?”
“I think so,” came the muffled reply from the box.
“Okay, we’ll go tomorrow. Can you get the saw?” Lewis asked Fredrick as he sat down, an earnest appeal lighting his eyes.
“I think so. I think Oliver’ll lend me the saw, but he let slip that they’s a column leaving Chase bound for Johnson’s Island in two day’s time. They also takin’ some of the officers.”
“That settles it, we gotta go tomorrow. I ain’t gonna get sent to Johnson’s! Can you get the saw tomorrow? If he won’t give it up … “ Lewis trailed off, working something out in silence. “We need that saw if this is to work. Grab whatever you want with you, but don’t be conspicuous about it neither.”
Lewis kicked the side of the box to emphasize the last bit for Peter. A muffled protest came from within. To Stephen and Fredrick he said, “You make sure Pete don’t ruin it fer all of us. You lose him first chance you get.”
Lewis turned on his heels and walked into the barracks, leaving the other three standing around the box. “Oliver had better give up the saw,” he said to himself.
A pitiful plea emanated from within the box.
Stephen and Fredrick looked at each other, then at the box.
“Pards, can I come out now?”
“This is our last chance to rethink this,” Stephen whispered to Fredrick.
Fredrick shook his head. “I’m in this, pard. I think Lewis will be okay.”
Stephen nodded and looked down at the box. He gave it a slight nudge with his shoe. “C’mon out, Peter.”
Will Hunter loitered a few minutes more nearby before ducking back behind the corner of the enlisted men’s barracks. He’d almost not gone for a walk around the compound this day. He’d almost not risked sneaking up on the group of four conspirators to eavesdrop. He’d almost not bothered to hang around after confirming his suspicions about the box and the game of chess. He’d almost missed the most critical news of all. So they do plan on moving me and the other officers to Johnson’s Island, he thought as he wound his way back to the officer’s compound. They weren’t going to tell the officers it was about to happen.
Will found Kearns lying on his bunk and motioned to him. Jackson rose gingerly from his bedding and followed Will outside and away from the usual crowd of loiterers sitting or standing by the barracks entrance.
“They movin’ some of us to Johnson’s Island soon; don’t know if we’re going or not, but sounds like they’s a good chance one or all of us be going.”
Jackson’s eyes widened.
“They’s more. Them privates that been playing chess by the wall? I know’d they was up to something. They going to saw through the wall an’ use that box to hide it,” Will said quietly.
“That can’t possibly … “
“Possible or not, they gonna try it, an’ you an’ I should be ready.”
“How you even know?” Kearns hooked his hand on Will’s left arm and dragged him back a few feet to be clear of anyone listening.
“Heard one o’ them say they heard it from a keeper that they’s going to send the officers to Johnson’s Island.”
“No, how you know they trying to escape?”
“Just do; call it a good feelin’.” He was taking a big risk confiding in Kearns, but the man was always around watching him. And then there was the debt he owed him. Kearns had placed the blame convincingly on Baxter for Abigail’s drowning. Will hated it, but he’d kept his mouth shut and allowed the man to be hanged. Kearns had been milking it for all it was worth since coming from the hospital.
“I see. When?” Jackson asked skeptically.
“Dunno, they movin’ us or whoever in two days.”
Jackson’s stay in the stockade had already been thirty days longer than he’d expected. Two months in the hospital was enough to cure anyone of thoughts of going on sick call; the smell of death was everywhere. He’d had fevers and tremors and diarrhea and weathered each bout. The day he’d walked out of the wards had been a memorable one.
Escorted into Colonel Moody’s office, he was unsteady on his feet but feeling supremely confident of his mission.
“I do not interview with incoming prisoners,” Colonel Moody announced as soon as Jackson Kearns was ushered in. “What is it that you want?”
“I have been in correspondence with several interested parties both in my government and yours and am confident I am to be exchanged. My health is not up to rigorous life, and I’d beg your forbearance for a release so that I may await my exchange in Columbus and not behind the stocka
de.”
The stockade had loomed large before him as he was escorted from the hospital building, a short walk away from the administrative offices and the high walls.
“You look healthy enough to me; I have heard of no arrangements to exchange anyone, least not a lowly captain of cavalry,” Moody replied dryly.
“I anticipate it any day. Why burden yourself with me when I can wait in more comfort in town?” Jackson replied brightly.
Moody looked Jackson over and shook his head. “I suppose you want to join the set of those officers who parade about Columbus as if they have not entered into a war of rebellion with the recognized government of this state? I’m not in the habit of releasing anyone without orders to do so. When I get the orders to exchange you, then I’ll see about getting you a release. I’m also not in the habit of satisfying the demands of certain local politicians and judges whose wives become busybodies about my camp. If you heard that I would give you some sort of release, you heard wrong.”
“What can I do to change your mind? You would benefit from someone on the inside of the stockade, someone who might find out if things are right with the prisoners or not.” Jackson tried to sound confident.
Moody grinned. “You selling your services as a spy, Captain? The walls are high, the prisoners docile, the food and accommodations adequate. I do not fear a mass exodus.”
“All the same, Colonel, in exchange for consideration for release I might be of some use.”
“I don’t think you want to set yourself up as an informer, Captain. I don’t think I want to employ an informer, Captain,” Moody replied crisply. “I don’t want to chance any more disturbances in the stockade. Hard enough keeping the prisoners from tearing each other up over trivialities. You can go join your Rebel comrades now, Captain.”
Jackson had bowed his head slightly and then stood. “Keep it in mind, Colonel. I will do anything to see to my survival.” Leaving the office, he had entered the gates of the stockade, and the days stretched to weeks with no word from his father and no release for exchange.
Jackson looked now at Hunter, and his mind raced. He had run out of time. If exchange was ever to happen, it had to happen now or he’d need to barter a delay in being transferred to Johnson’s Island.
“They have to make an attempt in the next two days,” Hunter was saying, jarring Jackson out of thought. “We keep an eye on them an’ we give ‘em no choice but to allow us to slip through. I think I know what they intend to do.”
“Um, okay. I think I’ll go lay back down. Think fever has come back,” Jackson said and left Will. When he was around the corner, Jackson looked about. If he went on sick call in the morning he’d miss the escape if it happened at all, but he could get to Colonel Moody for one last chance. If he tried to get another interview with Moody, someone would take notice. Prisoners only went through the gate carried out to the hospital or with their exchange papers.
Jackson paced to and fro, undecided if he should act or let it all go. Hunter was going to ruin it, ruin his exchange. But if he was going to be sent to Johnson’s Island, he would need to escape now. His shoulder ached, and his legs felt wobbly. If he went to a keeper now and begged to go back to the hospital, maybe he might be able to convince Moody he could stop the escape. Maybe he’d get his release while waiting for exchange. He was feeling ill, but in the hospital he’d have to be really sick, or dying. What if Moody gave him another rebuff? What if he left the stockade and was left behind? What if exchange never happened?
Jackson looked around him again. Hunter was nowhere to be seen. The officer’s barracks also had a keeper. He’d go to him and beg to be taken to the hospital. He’d go to another barracks to avoid Hunter seeing him. Moving slowly, carefully, Jackson made his way, keeping close to the barracks wall, then walked to the next barracks, a space of fifteen feet to the closest one. A group of men hanging around the entrance playing chess looked up briefly and then back to the game. Keeping close to the wall, he made his way to the keeper’s outer window.
“Lost?” a familiar voice behind him whispered.
Chapter 15
Camp Chase, Ohio, August 13, 1862
“Shhh,” Lewis hissed, fixing Peter with his icy glare. “We do this in an hour.”
With their backs to the barracks, Lewis and Stephen sat on the cracker box, and Peter sat on the ground facing them, working a dull knife over his one chess piece, the one he’d been working on for days. It still didn’t look like a rook. Fredrick squatted nearby, his back pressed against the barracks wall, studying his hands. Stephen looked this way and that, certain that the guards were watching them. It was mid-afternoon and nearing the time they would go play by the wall.
“Yeah, uh, I’ll be quiet about it,” Peter blanched.
“Mind you do, Pete, or they’ll be hell to pay.”
“Calm yourselves; we’re all a little nervous,” Fredrick soothed. “It’s about time for them to relieve Oliver at the keeper’s room. I’d best be off.”
“We’ll be waiting. Grab anything you can for cutting, but that saw would be best,” Lewis said quietly.
“Oliver loaned it for cutting a hole in our box. I’m sure I can get him to loan it again for cutting up another box,” Fredrick replied with a grin.
“Stuff yer pockets with what food you can carry but nothing else; we’ll have to make do once we’re out of these walls. Each man for hisself, remember? You get through the hole an’ you run, you got that, Pete? I don’t want you gettin’ caught an’ spoilin’ it fer the rest of us.” Lewis scanned the yard warily, watching anyone passing by.
“But where do we head? Where do we know where to go?” cried Peter, then stopped short.
Lewis stepped toward the boy, a fierce look boiling in his eyes, but Fredrick stayed his hand. Peter jumped backwards.
“Pete,” Lewis fumed, the words held low but menacing, “you just mind your distance from me once we’re out, or so help me, I’ll throttle you.”
“Stick close to me,” Stephen said, nodding to Peter. “We’ll get to the river one way or another.”
“You think we kin make it to the Ohio? We marched a good way after crossing it,” said Peter, his eyes pleading for some assurance.
“Got no choice. It’s either the Ohio or it’s back in the stockade,” Lewis stated.
“I don’t know; why we doin’ this in the first place?” Peter rubbed his dirty hands together in a fit of nerves.
“What?” Lewis started.
“If we get caught, we’ll be in it worse for sure,” Peter whimpered.
“If you want to stay, then stay—but breathe not a word of any of this to anyone! I’m going. I won’t be shipped off to Johnson’s Island.” Lewis advanced on the young lad until he was toe to toe with Peter. This time Fredrick didn’t stop him.
“I … I jus’ don’ want to get caught is all. I don’ want to be left alone neither.”
Lewis turned away in disgust, a brooding, menacing anger flaring in his eyes.
“He’ll be fine,” Stephen said. “Won’t ya?”
“Um, yeah. I … I’ll be fine,” Peter stammered.
“Now, all ya got to do is hide the saw when we go over to our spot on the fence line an’ crawl into the box once we set it down, an’ do it quick like so no one sees ya do it. You gotta cut the hole in the fence and crawl through an’ run like the devil. We’ll be followin’ behind. If you get yourself noted by the other prisoners or a guard, the whole game is up, so you’d better get your head about you,” Lewis said.
They nodded.
****
Fredrick arrived at the barracks keeper’s room only to find that his friend Oliver wasn’t on guard. Instead, an unfamiliar face appeared at the barred window when Fredrick whistled.
“What do you want, Prisoner?” said the man in blue. His face was just as young as Oliver’s, perhaps even younger. Fredrick noted in an instant the distrust and uneasiness in the youth’s eyes.
“Sorry, I thought Oliver was su
pposed to be here on duty,” Fredrick replied uneasily.
“Ollie’s on sick call; bowels,” came the terse reply. “What business do you have with him, or me?”
“Oh, well, he and I usually talk literature. Are you one of the Hudson College students too?”
The man stared blankly at Fredrick.
“Oh, just curious is all. I’m a teacher from Mississippi, an’ Oliver and I would while the time away talking about literature and philosophy, so I came over to see if he was up for a round.”
“He isn’t here, and I’m not interested in no chin music with a prisoner.” The Union soldier’s face disappeared from the window opening.
Fredrick’s mind raced. Weeks of getting on Oliver’s good side were for nothing if he couldn’t get this new man to loan him the handsaw again. The outside door to the room attached to the barracks was bolted from the inside, giving the guard on duty there all the safety he could want from the prison population. A guard detail marched to each barracks to relieve the man inside with a new detail. Some tools were readily enough available. Others, like a saw or an ax, were not easily obtained. Oliver would have loaned Fredrick anything. Somehow this newcomer didn’t seem as friendly.
Fredrick heard the guard moving about the small room, but the window was too high to see in. Sounds of shuffling upon the wooden floor and the smell of coffee wafting through the open window temporarily distracted Fredrick.
Fredrick ran into the barracks to retrieve his battered tin cup.
Lewis watched Fredrick run up to the barracks and disappear with concern. Leaving Stephen and Peter behind, Lewis followed Fredrick at a distance.
Fredrick walked quickly to the keeper’s window and rapped on the windowsill. “Fellow, it’s me again.”
“Yes?” Another round of scraping and knocking from inside, and the face of the guard appeared at the window between the bars.
“I’m Fredrick, by the way, Fredrick Lester.”
The Shiloh Series: Books 1-3 Page 50
