The Legend of Indian Stream

by Steven Landry

There is a man in King George, about eighty miles north of here, who owns the haberdashery. Alfred Sampson is his name. You may recall I visited the shop when we were on our way to attend the Inauguration of President Tyler in the year 1851. I’m given to understand that he helps slaves to escape to the Free States in the north. It will be dangerous, but less dangerous than remaining here. Please destroy this note as soon as you’ve read it.

  Godspeed,

  Abigail.

  Joseph ran two nights later. Travelling only at night, it took him five days to make the trip. He found a good hiding place on the outskirts of King George where he could watch the shop.

  Mr. Sampson closed the shop well after dark. Sticking to the woods, Joseph followed him home, then walked up and knocked on his door.

  “Mr. Sampson?” he asked when the man opened the door. “My name is Joseph Smith. Miss Abigail Smith told me you might be able to help me get to the Free States in the north.”

  Sampson quickly hustled Joseph inside, then paused to look about for anyone that might have seen him come to the house on the small farm nestled against the Rappahannock River.

  “First thing Joseph, forget the names Alfred Sampson and Abigail Smith. Do you understand?” Joseph nodded.

  “You made it this far, so there likely isn’t anyone hot on your trail. We can help you, but you have to do exactly as I say, understood?” Joseph nodded again. “There’s a shed down by the river. I want you to go there and wait until my wife Margaret comes to fetch you early in the morning. Here’s some food.” Sampson handed Joseph a loaf of bread and small wrapper filled with smoked pork, then ushered him out the backdoor and pointed towards the river.

  Joseph did as instructed and made his way down to the small shed. After settling himself, he tore into the bread and pork. The food the house slave brought him had run out two days before, and he was starving. Once he’d eaten, he laid down and waited.

  Margaret Sampson opened the door to the shed several hours later. “Ready to go?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We have to move very quietly. We have a five mile walk from here to the beach where you’ll be picked up for the next leg of your journey. This is very important: If we run into trouble and get separated, keep going north until you hit the big river. Follow it east until you get to the point where it turns sharply south. It’s called Mathias Point. Someone will meet you there. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Alright, let’s go.” She led him out the door and into the darkness.

  19 - ANNA

  Kings County, Virginia, USA, Sunday, January 22, 1854

  Anna had remained in Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, raising her two children, Jake and Paul. Fearing discovery by the Republic, she had not activated the portal generator since that fateful day in July 1834. She’d managed to modify the 2,000-Watt, super-quiet, gasoline-powered portable generator Mike had salvaged from the burned trailer to run on grain alcohol. Anna used it sparingly to power the few appliances she’d brought along, as well as charge the battery in the boat.

  Her children and neighbors believed her to be a widowed seamstress who supported herself making dresses. The top-of-the-line 21st Century Singer sewing machine, combined with the skills she’d once learned in the Berlin orphanage where she’d grown up, made that job much easier than her customers would have believed. She was careful with the hoard of gold Mike had given her, and the family was financially secure.

  Opiates remained the bane of her existence. She thought she’d be free once her supply of Vicoprofen ran out, and she had remained clean for a time. But a bad fall had resulted in a sore back, and when the local doctor prescribed laudanum, she got hooked once again. As her children entered their teenage years, the addiction strained their relationships. Determined to shake free, Jake had insisted on attending a military boarding school. It proved to be the kick in the ass she needed, and she managed to get clean once again, with her other son Paul’s help. According to his latest letter, Jake was stationed at Fort Leavenworth in the Kansas Territory.

  Still seeking to rebalance the ledgers in her favor, Anna’s involvement in the Underground Railroad deepened. Her little boat became a key cog in the railway. Over the years, she managed to extract hundreds of escaped slaves from the shores of the Potomac and deliver them safely to Reverend Penn and his network.

  * * *

  Anna arrowed the small boat towards the signal light on the south bank of the Potomac River. The boat crunched into the sandy beach bottom.

  “Hello,” she called softly.

  “Thank God you’re here,” replied a women’s voice. Anna assumed it was the Sampson women she’d met before on one of these runs. Margaret sometimes brought the fugitive slaves north, usually when her husband had some business to attend to in town. She knew the couple had a small farm, and supplemented their income with a haberdashery in King George. Anna always brought a few items of freshly made clothing along with her, so she might claim she had come south for no other purpose than a business transaction.

  “What’s the problem,” Anna asked.

  “I lost the slave,” she replied. “His name is Joseph Smith. We got separated when a band of slave hunters rode by. Joseph spooked and ran off while I hid.”

  “Do you know where he’s headed?”

  “If he follows the instructions I gave him, he’ll go to Mathias Point. The slave hunters rode off in that direction, but I don’t know if they had his trail or not.”

  “How many of them were there?”

  “Only three, I think. But they were on horses and Joseph is on foot. I didn’t hear or see any dogs, at least.”

  “I’ll see if I can find him. You head on home.” The woman was brave enough, but not suited to a nighttime firefight. Unlike Anna, she’d not spent time learning the needed skills from Stasi combat instructors.

  Anna pushed the boat back into the water and climbed aboard. She was wearing all black. She donned a pair of night vision goggles, started the motor, and headed downstream towards Mathias Point.

  The road that paralleled the river was almost a half-mile inland, so she didn’t expect to spot either the slave hunters or Joseph as she motored along. Unless she really opened it up, the boat’s electric motor was nearly silent, so she didn’t think they’d hear her either.

  Once she reached Mathias Point she tied the boat to a tree that overhung the water and waded ashore, the Uzi at port arms. Seeing no one around, she cautiously followed the shoreline back to the west, hoping to find Joseph before the slavers did. After about fifteen minutes she reached the edge of Chotank Creek, a minor tributary of the Potomac River. There was a very narrow spit of land that closed off most of the creek’s entrance, leaving only about a one-hundred-foot-wide channel. And that’s where she spotted Joseph, wading through waist-deep water.

  The escaped slave was about halfway across the creek. His pursuers were at the water’s edge on the opposite bank, trying to coax their mounts into the dark water. Anna took aim and attempted to fire a burst from the Uzi in their direction, but the weapon fired only one round. “Scheisse.” She yanked back the charging lever, ejecting the recalcitrant round. She fired again, but the weapon malfunctioned again after the first round.

  “Fucking twenty-five year old ammo,” she muttered.

  “Joseph, move your ass,” she hollered, before firing another single round at the slavers.

  Joseph’s pursuers retreated into the woods. Anna guessed that they would try to find another crossing point further up the creek, then ride around the inlet and cut them off. She’d scouted the area before, however, and knew it would take them at least a half-hour, maybe longer in the dark.

  “Can you run?” she asked when Joseph waddled out of the water. It was a relatively warm night, but it was still the middle of winter, and the water was freezing cold.

  “I’ll try,” he answered.

  “Then let’s go. Follow me as closely as you can.” They took off for
Mathias Point as fast as Joseph could run in the dark. Anna wore night vision goggles, and picked out their path with care. But she missed a root that thrust itself out of the soft earth, and tripped, crashing to the ground. She broke her fall but twisted awkwardly in the process. Pain shot through her lower back. Joseph helped her to her feet, and she limped the rest of the way to the boat.

  They reached her boat before the slavers caught up to them, and climbed aboard. She untied the mooring line, then gingerly settled herself in the stern before powering up the engine. It started with a soft purr that startled Joseph.

  “Don’t worry, they’ll never catch us now.” She hoped she was right.

  “There’s blankets under the seat,” she told him. “And hot coffee in that silver container. Help yourself.” Anna headed the boat into the night. They pulled into a secluded cove as the sun came up and spent the day waiting and sleeping, alternately standing watch. They talked a lot as well. Joseph told her all about growing up in Africa, and she spun a well-practiced tale about growing up in Bavaria. Anna sipped laudanum every few hours to ease the pain in her back.

  It took them three nights to make the trip to Mercersburg, but they arrived safely on the morning of Wednesday, January 25th, 1854. That evening she brought Joseph to Reverend Penn and bade him farewell, thinking she’d never set eyes on him again.

  20 - JOSEPH & WORTHINGTON

  Corvettes ISRS Justice and ISRS Judgement: Identical ocean-going, JEPS-powered warships, displacing just under thirteen hundred tons when fully loaded. Each ship has six torpedo tubes, eight surface-to-surface missile launchers, and a 76mm gun. The ships also carry a helicopter equipped with air-to-surface missiles. Glossary, An Illustrated History of the Republic, Helen O’Shea, Ed.

  Republic of Indian Stream, Wednesday, February 1, 1854

  Joseph entered the Republic at four o’clock on a bitterly cold Wednesday morning. He was huddled, along with three escaped slaves from Georgia, in the back of a buggy driven by a white man from Rumford, Maine. He had never been so cold in his entire life. The buggy driver, who had not given his name, had provided each man with several blankets, but as the bumpy ride wore on, the biting cold seeped through; Joseph could no longer feel his fingers.

  The man explained they had to travel at night, along back roads, in order to avoid the slave hunters operating along the Republic’s borders. While both New Hampshire and Maine had outlawed slavery decades earlier, the 1850 Fugitive Slave Act required citizens and officials of the Free States to cooperate in the capture and return of escaped slaves. The Underground Railroad had gotten Joseph and his three companions as far as Rumford the previous day, where they had rested until nightfall.

  The buggy slowed as it approached a river crossing.

  “Another hundred yards and you’ll be on Back Lake Enterprises property,” the driver said. “You’ll be home free there.”

  Suddenly six mounted men galloped out of the darkness and blocked the road. Each carried a musket.

  “Stop the wagon!” one of them shouted. The driver pulled back on the reins and brought the wagon to a halt. “Those slaves are the legal property of southern plantation owners, and we are taking them back.”

  “We’re at least five miles over the Republic’s border,” replied the buggy driver. “You have no authority here.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the Republic’s border. I’ve got all the authority I need.” The slave hunter tapped his musket. “Those slaves are going back to their owners.”

  “I don’t think so.” A voice emanated from the darkness near the bridge. “Drop your weapons right now and I just might let you live.”

  Frightened near to death, Joseph watched as the riders raised their muskets and pointed them in the general direction of the bridge. Almost immediately there were six bright flashes in the darkness, and the slave hunters were knocked out of their saddles. Armed soldiers appeared out of the night. They walked up to each of the downed riders and fired two shots into the heart of each one.

  While his men moved to gather up the horses and dead men, the leader approached the buggy.

  “My name is Captain Liam Keating of the Indian Stream Republican Militia. Welcome to the Republic! I apologize for those fellows’ rudeness. They sure as hell won’t be troubling you any further.”

  “We’ll be taking care of you from here on,” the Captain continued. “Please follow me.” Joseph got down out of the buggy.” He turned to the driver. “Thank you, sir. I know you risked at lot.”

  “No need for thanks, it’s my Christian duty to help those less fortunate than myself.” The driver turned his buggy and trotted off the way they had come.

  Joseph and his three companions were led over to a pair of strange wagons. Doors opened and two of the fugitive slaves were loaded into the back seats of each vehicle. Two soldiers got into the front seats. A third soldier stood between the seats with his head popping out of the roof.

  It was comparatively warm in the wagon. Joseph shrugged off one of his blankets. He was waiting for the soldiers to hook up horses to the wagon when the man in the left front seat said “hang on.” The vehicle started to move, apparently on its own. Just as suddenly, the road in front of the wagon lit up as if there was an extremely bright lantern hanging in front of the wagon. Joseph hung on for dear life as the vehicle picked up speed, travelling as fast as a galloping horse.

  Eventually Joseph found his voice. “How does this wagon move without any horses pulling it?”

  “This is called a Light Tactical Vehicle, or LTV. It’s driven by an electric engine, rather than being pulled by a horse,” the soldier in the right front seat explained. “We have two of these, plus six other vehicles called Geckos, in our little convoy here.” Joseph had seen a lot of wonders since he’d been taken from his village in Yorubaland, but this topped them all.

  * * *

  Harold Worthington IV suppressed his rage during the buggy ride back to Maine. How dare they murder six men who were just doing their jobs? A slave-owner himself, he held nothing but contempt for the abolitionists in the Republic. Investigating the Republic’s coddling of runaways was not his primary mission, however, and pretending to be a part of the Underground Railroad was just part of his cover identity. Nominally an employee of the U.S. State Department, his activities were financed by a secret service fund first established by Congress in 1790. His current assignment was on behalf of the War Department, which wanted to learn as much as possible about the Republic’s weapons, and he’d just learned something valuable. The ISRM’s riflemen could sight and fire effectively in the dark. Not one round wasted, at almost a hundred yards. It was remarkable, and unexplainable.

  He shivered deep in his bones as a frigid gust of wind nearly took his hat. Damn this cold. The sooner I complete this mission and get back home to Richmond the better. Lots of pretty young slave girls to keep me warm there.

  * * *

  The LTV Joseph was riding in came to a stop, then turned onto another road, where it really picked up speed, going twice as fast as before. About twenty minutes later, the convoy pulled up next to a large building and parked. Joseph and the other escaped slaves got out of the LTVs and gathered around Captain Keating.

  “Once again, welcome to the Republic,” Keating said. “This is St. Patrick’s Hospital, where you’ll be examined by doctors and treated for any illnesses you may have. Assuming you’re healthy enough to complete your journey, you’ll be shipboard by tomorrow night and on your way to Liberia.” He then turned to a man in a white coat. “They’re all yours, Doc.”

  “Welcome to St. Patrick’s. Please follow me and we’ll get started.”

  Joseph followed the doctor into the hospital, was astonished by how clean and bright the place was. They entered a large room divided into small rooms by curtains. Joseph was led into one of the curtained-off rooms and asked to disrobe, which he did reluctantly. He was given an open-backed smock to put on.

  For the next several hours he was examine
d by a variety of doctors, gave blood and urine samples, and was taken to a very solidly built room.

  “Hi, my name is Zahra.” The assistant was a pretty black woman with a very nice smile. She told him how to stand in front of one of the machines and clamp his teeth on a holder.

  “What is this for?” Joseph asked.

  “This machine makes a picture of your mouth. It’s called an X-ray. It will tell us if you have any damage to your teeth. If you do, a dentist onboard the ship can repair the damage while you’re at sea, so when you get to Liberia you shouldn’t need to have any teeth pulled. If you want, I’ll show you the picture when it’s ready.”

  She positioned Joseph the way she wanted him, then told him to stay very still, and left the room. He heard a buzzing sound, and part of the machine began to move around his head.

  “I’d like to see them,” he said when it was done.

  “Certainly,” Zahra replied. She asked Joseph to move to another part of the room, where she took more X-rays. Then she led him back out into the hallway.

  “Just take a seat here and I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He had no idea what a jiffy was, but he’d liked the smile on her face when she said it.

  He waited about five minutes, then Zahra came out with several long and very dark pictures. She showed Joseph the outlines of his teeth and bones, and said that it didn’t look like he’d need any dental work, and he didn’t have any joint problems.

  “Thank you,” Joseph said.

  “You’re very welcome. Where did you come from?”

  “Originally from the Yorubaland in Africa, but I escaped from a plantation in Virginia a few weeks ago.”

  “Me too, but it was a long time ago.” Joseph figured she was about ten or fifteen years older than him.

  “Did you happen to meet a pretty blond white woman named Anna on your journey north?” she asked, while leading Joseph back to his bed. “She had a German accent.”

  “Yes! She saved me from a band of slave hunters. I owe her my life.”

  “She saved me as well. I’m glad she’s still at it.” Zahra smiled again, then left him to wait for the next exam.