Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (21 page)

She had to act. Aside from a violent illness,
nothing would excuse her from work detail.

Emma spoke with another slave and arranged to
switch places with him for the day. Although meal duty still
required the use of her hands, it was better than gripping a
shovel. Emma determined to work through the pain. She had to. Her
new task necessitated that she deliver meals to officers around the
camp and to soldiers on picket duty.

This was the break Emma needed. In a few
short hours, she saw the layout of the entire camp. She took stock
of the number of howitzers and battery wagons they possessed, the
location and assortment of ammunition on hand, and even heard one
officer reference an unfamiliar piece of artillery.

"Quaker guns, did you say?" asked the
officer. Emma handed him a lukewarm cup of coffee.

She noticed the two men's collar badges. The
man she'd just served coffee to had three stars, indicating his
rank as a colonel, while the other man had one star, a major.

"Yes, sir," said the major. "Essentially they
are painted logs, positioned and intended to mimic canons, in case
the bluecoats launch a surprise attack."

"Painted logs?" asked the colonel. "Did you
say painted logs?" A sour look crossed his face, and whether it was
from the information or the weak coffee, Emma didn't know.

"Sir," continued the colonel, "I do not
understand this strategy. If you believe McClellan and his men are
going to be fooled by decorated tree trunks, you will be gravely
mistaken."

"There are several sects of Quakers who live
in the region, sir, and they refuse to take sides or to harbor any
weapons to help us strengthen our defenses."

"If painted logs are your idea of a defense,
Major, then you should simply slaughter your men now, and save the
Federals time and energy. We cannot rely on large sticks if we
expect victory."

Emma snickered at the bit of humor and both
men looked her way.

"You see there, Major, even a darkie finds
your methods laughable." The colonel stepped close to the other
officer. "Let me make this very clear, Major. I have spent my life
and career serving my country and honoring the great state of
Virginia. I am not about to allow you, or anyone else in this
ragtag outfit, to put forth efforts that are bound to be
shameful."

"Then what do you suggest, Colonel Lee?"

Emma almost dropped the coffee pot. Colonel
Robert E. Lee was infamous among military men. A graduate of West
Point, his career had been legendary. Unfortunately for the Union,
Lee remained loyal to Virginia, even though he did not support
slavery and he considered secession an act of treachery against
America's founding fathers.

Lee finished his coffee and returned the cup
to Emma before speaking.

"If you're concerned about your defenses,
Major, then I would suggest positioning soldiers in the outlying
areas for an ambush, once you get word of the Federals' approach.
Few tactics are as effective as a surprise attack."

"I agree."

"However, sir, I would also suggest that you
do your damnedest to get these men in better shape for battle. Bull
Run was a fluke. I wouldn't count on that happening again, and
should McClellan make up his mind and decide to attack in the
immediate future, I don't see that turning out well for your forces
here."

Lee walked off. The major turned to Emma and
said through gritted teeth, "There something else you need,
boy?"

"No, sir."

Emma scrambled off, grinning all the way and
with adrenaline shooting through her. Her mind raced. She had to
find a way out of the camp. Immediately. The information she had
overheard from Colonel Lee would be precisely what McClellan would
want to hear. Sneaking past the pickets, Emma knew, would be her
main problem. Thanks to her morning rounds of delivering coffee and
dried beef, she knew the position of each guard, and she knew they
could shoot her before she made it ten yards.

With her focus set on a hasty escape, it was
no wonder she crashed into someone.

"Wha' de hell you doin'?"

Emma found herself clasped by Big Sam.

"I's makin' ma rounds." She glanced to the
ground where the tin coffee pot and cups now lay scattered.

"Who said fo' you to work kitchen duty?"
Anger burned in Big Sam's eyes.

"I's traded with someone." Emma knew
mentioning a name would only cause further trouble.

Big Sam grasped the front of Emma's shirt,
one she had received to replace the torn shirt. "You don' do
nothin' wid out askin' me furst, you hear? I'm your massa now."

Emma tried to shrug and pull away, but Big
Sam's hold was relentless.

"Easy there, coon!"

Both Emma and Big Sam whipped their heads in
the direction of a Confederate colonel approaching on horseback.
Big Sam released Emma's shirt, and the officer dismounted from his
horse. Though smaller than Big Sam, the soldier got in his
face.

"Just what do you think you're doing, boy?
Shouldn't you be at the parapet working or shoveling manure in the
stable?" He slapped Big Sam's cheek with his riding crop. "Answer
me, boy."

Big Sam clamped his jaw and cast the officer
a loathsome expression.

"Yessah," he said. "Wez headin' dere
now."

"Doesn't look to me like you've got your mind
on working." He looked sideways at Emma. "Neither of you."

Both of them stood motionless.

"There's no time to be wasted here, boy."
Spittle from the officer hit the side of Big Sam's nose, but he
didn't flinch. The officer kept his face close to Big Sam's, as if
waiting for Big Sam to retaliate, but the slave kept his eyes
forward, fists clenched at his sides. The officer stepped back and
tapped the side of his pants with the riding crop. "Seems to me you
no-accounts could use a firm reminder not to be fiddling your time
away in my camp. Sergeant!" Said sergeant ran to his commander.
"Take these two worthless vermin to the prison quarters. I want
them both whipped twenty times."

The sergeant nodded and pointed the way to
the prison.

"Oh, and sergeant," the officer added, "make
sure they're shirtless."

****

Panic pulsed inside Emma. Prison quarters and
twenty lashes sounded unbearable, but being exposed as a female in
a Rebel camp could possibly prove deadly. She didn't want to
imagine the fatal possibilities but couldn't help it. Emma had to
escape. Dozens of thoughts raced through her mind, too many, in
fact, for her to focus on any one thing. Terror suffocated her, and
it was all she could do to keep up with the sergeant's pace as he
led them closer to doom.

An old stable served as the prison. Officers'
horses shared space with the fortification's meager prison
population, and a tangled odor of stale hay and feces emitted from
the building. Two corporals stood out front, swords at their sides.
They flicked away their cigarettes at the sight of the approaching
sergeant.

"Corporal, these contraband are to be
thrashed twenty-five times."

Emma and Big Sam exchanged looks at the
discrepancy. Both knew a protest would worsen the situation, but
Emma didn't detect a hint of fear on Big Sam's face.

"Just a minute."

All heads turned and took in the sight of a
Confederate general.

"One of our men on picket duty has taken ill.
We need a replacement immediately." The general quickly surveyed
Big Sam and Emma and produced a disapproving grimace. "I need these
two." He pointed to Emma and Big Sam.

"What?" the corporals asked.

"Surely, General Briggs, you can't be
serious. You can't post two coloreds on guard duty."

He faced the sergeant and held up his chin.
"Who says I can't?"

The sergeant offered no rebuttal to the
general's question but employed another tactic. "Sir, these two
have been sentenced to twenty lashes. That alone should speak of
their unworthy caliber."

General Briggs raised an eyebrow. "The
coloreds will do until a suitable replacement is found. Their
sentence may be carried out later." He glanced over Emma and Big
Sam with disdain. "Come with me."

The general led them to a post on the edge of
the camp. He thrust carbine rifles at each of them.

"I realize you do not know how to utilize
this weapon with any accuracy," Briggs said, "so your duty is to
fire this in the air should anything go afoul. Do you understand my
instruction?"

"Yes, sir!" both Emma and Big Sam
replied.

"I'm warning you." His eyes narrowed. "If you
fall asleep or neglect this post, you'll receive twenty more lashes
in addition that what you're due
—
and in no uncertain terms does this assignment nullify your
previous sentence." He stood straight. "Do I make myself
clear?"

"Yes, sir." Fervent nods accompanied their
reply, and the general took his leave.

Seeing this as her lone opportunity for
escape
—
and to avoid further
humiliation and torture
—
Emma
turned to Big Sam.

"Sam, I need you to hear me out." Emma spoke
in a new voice, confident and firm. "I am not who you think I am,
and I apologize for deceiving you, but I need your help." Emma
fished into the bottom of her shoe and came up with a five dollar
note. She'd stashed it there for such an emergency. "I'm going to
give you this, and all you have to do in return is not fire that
gun when I take off for those trees over there." Emma nodded her
head toward the wooded patch thirty yards away. Big Sam gave it a
blink but seemed struck by disbelief. Emma wrestled with whether or
not to risk a confession. Big Sam's favor could be a boon
—
or he could choose to shoot Emma
right there.

Emma gambled.

"I know this will sound incredible, but I'm
really a Union soldier. I came here as a spy, and I must get back
to camp. I'm on your side, Sam, and I want to do all I can to end
slavery. I've got to get my information into Union hands."

Big Sam stood stock-still.

"Will you help me?" Emma wiggled the
note.

Big Sam reached out and took the note.

Emma sighed. "Thank you."

She checked the area and found no other
Confederates were nearby. Setting her sights on the woods, Emma
darted off. She put all she had into her sprint, certain that if
she could reach the cover of the trees, she would be home free the
rest of the way.

But gunfire cracked the air.

Emma pumped her legs as hard as she could go,
ignored her need for oxygen, and didn't dare look back.

Train-hopping wasn't an option for Emma on
the return trip back. She hid among the cargo of a ship bound for
Washington. When the ship docked, Emma still had ground to cover.
Steady rain returned, and with it, she crossed into Union-occupied
territory late one night. Her skin darkening solution smudged down
her face. She had removed the wig and stuffed it into her shirt.
She knew she would be an alarming sight to the picket, whom she
found dozing at his post.

"I have to get word to General McClellan!"
Emma snapped.

The soldier, unaware of Emma's mission or the
disguise she had assumed, led her, at gunpoint, to the general's
tent. Along the way, Emma shouted to men she knew and instructed
them to alert Colonel Reed and Lieutenant Trumball. Emma had a
difficult time walking and clenched her side.

Despite the assault of chills and escalating
pain, Emma relayed the main points of her find, including the
information about the painted logs, potential ambush, and the
vulnerable state the Rebel camp was in. Colonel Reed and Trumball
had assembled, and even Eleanor left her post at the hospital and
joined them.

"Edmonds, you've done this unit proud,"
McClellan said.

"Thank you, sir."

Emma reached out to shake McClellan's
extended hand but collapsed.

****

Trumball bent and searched Tom for signs of
trauma. Men scrambled to Tom's aide. The lieutenant, noticing a
bulge in Tom's shirt, reached in and removed a wig. Blood dripped
to the ground. Two holes in Tom's side revealed the source.

"He's been shot!" Trumball declared. "Let's
get him to the hospital." He effortlessly scooped Tom into his arms
and carried him to the hospital tent.

Colonel Reed and McClellan followed. Eleanor,
struck with panic, ran ahead of Trumball and cleared an examining
table behind a screen. She told the colonel and McClellan to stand
back and allow her room to work, since Dr. Hillman was currently
off duty.

Tenderly, Trumball lay Tom down. In the
throes of pain, Tom's body constricted and bunched together.
Eleanor administered a shot of morphine, and Tom settled. Wasting
no time, Eleanor ripped open Tom's shirt
—
and gasped.

She looked at Trumball, who stood wide-eyed
and slack jawed at the sight of female attributes. Eleanor pulled a
sheet to cover Tom's nudity. She glanced to see if the other
commanders had caught sight of the revelation, but no one else had
looked beyond the screen.

"We have to move…her," Eleanor said. "My
house is close."

Trumball nodded and tucked the blanket up to
Tom's chin and snug around the sides. This time, he lifted the
female
soldier more carefully. Eleanor swiped several
bottles and an armload of supplies before stepping around the
curtain and facing the commanders. Others had gathered, Graham and
Nash included, as the news of Tom's return had circulated.

"There's no time to explain," Eleanor said to
them. "But he must be taken to my home immediately. I'll care for
him there and do the best I can. You must trust me."

"What?" McClellan scoffed. "Don't be
ridiculous, woman! The man needs help. He needs a hospital! Moving
him is not an option!" He turned and slapped the chest of a soldier
standing next to him with the back of his hand. "Fetch Dr. Hillman
at once!"