by Ann Rinaldi
Fitting, I thought.
"Johnny Collins. He must be buried with honor on the family land in Hagerstown in western Maryland. And not in Potter's Field. Hagerstown is about thirty percent Rebel. Here are some coins to give to the Ferryman. Robert will be waiting with a wagon, on the east side of the Almshouse. He'll be your faithful family servant. Dressed as an old man."
Robert. What would he do when he discovered it was me behind the black veil? Refuse to speak to me? Send me home? Well, I would have to count on the element of surprise. And the fact that it would be too late to stop things set in motion.
"But you must meet the Ferryman alone. He'll know you're from Dr. Bransby; but never falter in your act. Someone from the Board of Buzzards may be watching. You don't want to get the Ferryman in trouble. Anyway, he may have to go inside and ask their permission to release the body to you. They may come out to meet you. Play the part well if they do. It will be all right. Most men can't abide a weeping woman."
I thanked her and took up my bundle of clothing.
"Be careful," she said to me as I went out the door. "What you are doing is illegal in the eyes of the law. You could be arrested."
I hadn't thought about that.
"And if you are, there is one rule we hold firm. You must not tell them who you are doing this for. You must never mention the name of Dr. Bransby."
I went home with her ominous words in my ears. Still, I was more excited than frightened. Uncle Valentine was out. So was Maude. I went right to my room and showed my outfit to Ulysses. He approved.
I read The History of Anatomy until five. I was to meet Robert at seven. I heard Maude come in and start to fix supper. Maude could be a problem. But when I went downstairs to tell her I'd take a plate in my room, I could tell she had something else on her mind.
"I'm so upset about this Dr. Mudd thing. It sits ill on your uncle. It's wearing him down. Not to mention the business with Annie's mother. To think that they are going to hang that woman! What is the world coming to? There's a group of protestors uniting in front of the White House tonight, with torches. I've a mind to join them."
"Why don't you?" I said.
"You'll be all right?"
"Yes. I'll keep a lamp lit for Uncle Valentine."
She left. Merry was going with her, she said. Thank heaven for the women protestors. Thank heaven that Merry wouldn't be at the Almshouse. One less person to worry about. I left at six-thirty, dressed in black, to meet Robert.
I paid the driver of the hack a block from the Almshouse, which was at Nineteenth and C Streets, and set off on foot. A mild drizzle was coming down; fog from die Potomac wrapped the houses in a premature dusk. The cobblestones on the street were slippery. Was this the east side of the Almshouse? Yes, in the near distance, through the fog, I saw a wagon.
I felt awkward in the black silk dress. The hem was a bit too long and I had all I could do to keep from tripping on it. The veil obscured my vision, but I dared not remove it. The musty smell of the clothing was giving me a headache, even in the open air.
Was that man leaning against the wagon smoking a cheroot Robert? He had long gray hair, a shabby jacket, and a soft-brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes. He stood up straight when he saw me approaching.
"Marietta?"
I made a sound of acknowledgment in my throat.
"Thank God. Are you all right? Where've you been all week? Dr. Bransby was worried. You haven't been sick, have you? I wanted to come 'round but couldn't get the time."
"I've not been sick."
"You sound like you are. What is it, your throat? I knew it. You shouldn't be out on a beastly night like this. Well, let's get it over with. I can see Potter's Field from here. I'll walk you up there. I understand it's a young man. The Wasting Disease. A good specimen, fresh. Since that brat of a niece of his let Addie go, he really needs this one. He was making such progress with Addie ... I can get this specimen right over to the lab tonight. It's a good thing about the hanging, in 3 way, don't you think? Everyone is up in arms over that. Maybe they'll leave us alone for a while." He took my arm "Here, just in case anyone's watching. You're grieving remember."
I felt the gentle strength of him supporting me. We walked like that for a few paces and then I tripped on the hem. If Robert hadn't been holding my arm, I'd have gone down. "Oh no!" I cried. I said it sharp and clear.
He stopped. Still holding my arm, he turned to look at me. "You're not Marietta." He said it calmly. Then he took the veil by its edge and lifted it from my face.
"It's you!"
"Don't be angry, Robert."
"By God!" He grabbed me by the forearms. "What in hell are you doing here? Are you crazy? Where did you get these clothes? This isn't a joke! We could get caught. Does he know you're here? Who sent you?"
All the while he was talking he was pulling me into the shadows of some high hedges. He still gripped my arms.
"Robert, you're hurting me."
"Explain," he said
"Marietta is sick. I went there with a note from Uncle Valentine. She couldn't come."
"He let you come?"
"No, he doesn't know I'm here. He went with Annie to the White House to beg for her mother's life. Then, after, to see his friend Dr. Mudd."
"Who gave you those clothes?"
"Marietta."
"Marietta would never consent to let you come, sick or not."
"I told her Uncle Valentine agreed to it."
"You little lying brat. You're trying to ruin us, aren't you?" He released me. He moved away like I was something not to be touched. "Those clothes were taken from a corpse, you know," he said. "Did Marietta tell you that?"
I felt a new sense of revulsion at the smell I'd been breathing in.
"That dress was worn by a dead woman! All the clothing we wear on these excursions is. That dress was in a grave. Removed from a cadaver."
He was angering me, trying to scare me like that. I tossed my head and rallied. "Well, I can't get squeamish now, can I?" I asked him.
I saw something come into his eyes, for just an instant. Some glint of admiration, quickly concealed.
"Robert, please." I tried to sound bored. "This is wasting everybody's time. I want to help. I can help. Marietta told me what has to be done and I can do it. Please, Robert, cooperate."
He waved his hands at me in disgust.
I thought quickly. "I'm here now, Robert. You can hate me all you want. But if we don't do this now, you'll lose this specimen. And nobody's paying attention tonight. Everyone's at the protest in front of the White House. Even Merry and Maude. They're all fixing on the hanging of Mrs. Mary. Marietta coached me. I know what to do. Then you never have to speak to me again. Or see me. As long as you live."
"That isn't long enough," he said.
I felt a great heaving sadness inside me. Did I still care for him, then? But there was no time for that now. I started walking away from him, down the street to the cemetery gate.
"Where are you going? You come back here!"
"I'm going to do my job, Robert," I said. "I'm going to get the specimen. You can stand there and nurse your own feelings, or you can accompany me, the way you're supposed to. Either way, I'm going."
"Come back here!" His whisper was loud and savage.
"There are some people over there across the street," I whispered back in a singsong voice. "Do you want to attract attention?"
In a moment I heard his odd, shuffling gait behind me. Then felt the grip on my arm again. This time the fingers tightened on me, hurting. "I'm going to tell him about this. You're finished when he finds out. You're off to Richmond for good."
"You do what you have to do, Robert." We were nearing the cemetery gate. I could see a man inside holding a shaded lantern. I could see a coffin on the ground beside him. I fumbled with the gate latch. It came loose. I swung it open. "Now, I'm counting on you to go and get the wagon," I said sweetly. And I walked inside.
The man was starting to dig a grave.
I walked down a path, around some burial plots. There were no headstones, I noticed, just crosses crudely put together from sticks. Of course. People who died in the Almshouse couldn't afford headstones.
The man was digging slowly. He'd raise a shovel full of dirt, set it aside, and rest on the shovel, like he had all night. Like he was waiting for someone to come along and relieve him of his task. When he saw me approaching, he stopped.
I took the handkerchief out and put it to my nose. The fragrance was thick and sweet. I felt nauseated. Tears came to my eyes. Good, I needed the tears. "Are you the Ferryman?" I asked.
"Who wants to know?"
"My name is—" I hesitated. What is my name? No one had told me. I thought quickly. "My name is Maria Collins. I was told to come here tonight. That you were burying my brother."
"Brother? This poor soul's got no family. That's why he's been livin' here. This is the Almshouse, miss. You sure you got the right place?"
"Yes, oh yes!" I remembered Marietta's words: Never falter in your act. I knelt down beside the coffin. "Is his name Johnny Collins? From Hagerstown, Maryland?"
"Name's Collins. Don't know where he hails from. Don't think any of them in the Almshouse know where they hail from, either."
"Oh, Johnny!" I embraced the old wooden coffin. "I've found you at last! Oh, to think I'm too late. I've been looking for you so long." Still kneeling, I peered up at the Ferryman's face. It was an old face, deeply lined but kindly. And the eyes twinkled at my performance.
"He's been a wastrel, a scoundrel, and a ne'er-do-well," I explained, "estranged from the family. Daddy just never forgave him that he wouldn't fight for the Cause. So I suppose that's why he never came home. But Daddy is failing fast. And all he's longing for now is that Johnny come home. Am I too late? Can't you just let me have him, sir, so I can bring him home and have him buried in honor on our land?"
He took off his hat. He wiped his brow. "I'll just go inside a minute and make it right with the Board," he said. "Oughta be somebody inside from the Board. You wait." He set down the shovel and walked through the stick crosses to the door at the back of the Almshouse.
I looked around me and shivered. His shaded lantern was on the ground next to the coffin, casting a weak, flickering light. It was raining lightly. What was I doing here, all alone in this sad little cemetery with stick crosses, wearing musty, evil-smelling clothing from the grave? From a nearby tree I heard a hooty-owl calling to its mate. Where was Robert? I peered through the fog out onto the street. Was he angry enough to desert me?
Suppose someone from the Board came out to question me? Suppose my answers didn't satisfy? Would I be arrested this night? Hauled off to jail like Annie's mother, where I'd have to use a smelly old pot in full view of everybody?
For one terrible moment panic seized me. I wanted to run.
Then the back door of the Almshouse opened and the Ferryman came out. At the same time, from the street I heard the clip-clopping of a horse. Then the outline of a wagon just outside the gates. Relief washed over me. Robert had not deserted me!
The Ferryman took his time. He had all the time in the world, I minded; all night. He ambled back to me.
"Well?" I asked. I wrung the handkerchief in my hands. "What did they say?"
"They said it's awful peculiarlike that you showed up just now."
My heart fell. My knees were trembling.
"They asked if you had any identification."
"Identification?"
"Yes. They require proof of who you be. Or who you come for. They want a paper."
"Paper?" I asked stupidly.
"You know, a paper." He shrugged and winked at me.
I looked into his eyes. They were warm and kind. I hope you have it, they seemed to be saying. Robert, I thought. He has the paper. He wouldn't have let Marietta waltz in here without it. "Give me just a minute, sir," I said, "and I'll fetch it. I left it with my servant."
I would kill Robert for not giving me that paper. I walked back to the gate. "Robert," I whispered savagely, "the Ferryman wants a paper."
"You did it, then." He sounded unbelieving.
"Of course I did it! What did you think I was doing in there with him? Inviting him for tea? Give me the paper. And I hope my name isn't on it. Because you didn't tell me what it's supposed to be and I said it was Maria."
He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out two papers. "No, your name isn't here. It's a letter from John Collins, Sr., from Hagerstown, Maryland, requesting the body of his son. The second paper is permission from the Board of Health to take said body across state lines. Both counterfeit, of course."
"Why did you let me go inside without them?"
He had the decency to look shamefaced. "I forgot."
I took the papers, walked back, and handed them to the Ferryman. He inspected them. "Good," he said, "good. This will satisfy the Board. I'll keep the one from Mr. Collins. You'll need the other to get him across state lines. I suppose you want help getting the coffin into the wagon?"
"Yes, please."
He swung the lantern twice. A signal. Robert came in the gate. They lifted the coffin down the path and loaded it onto the wagon. "Get in the carriage, Miss Maria," Robert said.
I drew some coins out of my reticule and handed them to the Ferryman. "Thank you so much, sir. Your kindness will make my daddy happy in his old age."
"Have a safe trip, Miss Collins."
I got into the wagon. Robert walked the Ferryman back to the gate. They huddled in conversation for a minute, then Robert shook his hand and came back to hop up beside me. I was shivering. Robert reached for a blanket. "It's not from the grave," he said.
I wrapped myself in it. My teeth were chattering. I ripped off the lace mitts and rubbed my hands together in my lap. He reached out and put a hand over mine. I pulled my hand away.
"I'll take you right home," he said. "You'd best have something hot."
"You'd best take said body to the lab first," I snapped.
He gave a quiet chuckle. "All right. I'm sorry I gave you such an uneven time of it. Sorry I slipped up. But you covered my mistake. I never realized you were such a spirited little thing."
"There's lots you don't realize about me, Robert."
"You were good back there. The Ferryman said you were better than Marietta."
"If you're trying to make things up to me, don't. Not at the expense of Marietta."
He gave me a quick glance of admiration. I looked away.
"So, then? Are you going to tell Uncle Valentine about tonight? So I'll be off to Richmond for good?"
"I thought you wanted to go to Richmond."
"I don't. Not anymore. But don't let a little thing like that stop you."
He looked at the reins in his hands. "If you stay, I suppose you'll keep getting in my hair, won't you?"
"Yes," I said, "and I still hate your mustache."
"Don't push me too far, Emily Pigbush," he said. "I still haven't made up my mind whether to tell him about tonight yet."
"You do what you have to do, Robert," I told him.
25. Firecrackers on the Fourth
ROBERT DIDN'T TELL.
He came to breakfast the next morning and bade me a polite hello. He even directed some conversation at me. Though he was careful not to be too nice. I had to give him credit for decency Uncle Valentine wouldn't be suspicious. And later he told me he'd sworn Marietta to secrecy about my escapade, too.
My escapade. I was happy and unhappy. Uncle Valentine would think Marietta had gotten the cadaver of Johnny Collins for him. He would never know that if I hadn't gone it would have been lost to him forever. I'd made up to him for the loss of Addie. But I couldn't let him know it. Isn't that always the way of things? Sometimes our best deeds need to be kept secret. I wondered if there were a lesson anywhere in the Brothers Grimm about that. Surely there must be.
There seemed some sweet sense of justice, though, in the fact that I couldn't tell Uncle Valentine what I'd done.
Like I was doing additional penance for the loss of Addie. Johnny Surratt had told me all about Catholic penance. You had to do it or you went to hell for your sins. Addie was going to die because she didn't have her medicine. That was my sin. Certainly additional penance was needed. I'd probably be seeking it out for the rest of my life.
I didn't have time to think about it that morning, though. Uncle Valentine told us at breakfast that he had failed at the White House. President Johnson had refused to see either him or Annie. "He sent us a message," Uncle Valentine said. "He said that Mrs. Surratt kept the nest that hatched the eggs."
A serpent in the breasts of those people, Elizabeth Keckley had said. And what about Ella May? A curse on this street, she'd told me. And even Uncle Valentine had sensed something. Evil is brewing there, he'd told Mama.
"So what will happen now?" I asked him.
"They're going to hang the woman," he said. "There is nothing anybody can do about it."
Robert and I both fell silent. "And Dr. Mudd?" Robert asked.
"He's been sentenced to life. My dear friend. They are taking him to Fort Jefferson military prison in Dry Tortugas."
"Where's that?" I asked.
"It's a hellhole," he said. "A sun-fried island a hundred miles off the coast of Florida."
"Marietta said he won't serve a life sentence," I told him. "She told you that he'd be in prison a while and then be released. And she has powers, you know that, Uncle Valentine."
He looked at me. "Well, we're all going to need all the powers we have to get through this next week. The hanging is on July seventh. We're going to have to stand by Annie."
That afternoon I found myself at loose ends. Maude had the afternoon off. It was Sunday. Uncle Valentine was working in his office on his pamphlet about the need for an Anatomy Act. The house was quiet and cool. Outside, the heat was oppressive and unyielding. I was trying to read, but I had to keep getting up to answer the door clapper.
