Rebel in Time

In a government armoury, of course.

The newcomer was still talking, answering questions. Troy waited, kneading his knuckles impatiently, then finally broke in.

'Mr Copeland, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you said something a moment ago about a new kind of bullet being manufactured in Harper's Ferry?'

'That's right, that's what Mr Cook told me, and he's not the kind of man who would lie about a thing like that. They are making these bullets in Hall's Rifle Works, out there on that island in the Shenandoah. Secret, guards all around. You can't get near the place at all.'

'Did Mr Cook describe the bullet to you, tell you anything about it?'

'Did more than that. Said that this was so secret it had to be important. He told me to tell John Brown about it, and I did that. Something else he did, he got hold of some empty shell casings when they was sweeping out, ones that had broke. For me to show to John Brown.'

'Could you describe them?' Troy asked, forcing his voice to remain calm.

'Do better than that. Let you look at one. Kept one for myself.'

He rooted around in his trouser pocket, frowned, then put his hand in the other pocket.

'Don't think I lost it. Got it here some place. Yes, I knew it, here.'

Troy looked at the split shell casing resting on the palm of his hand, cracked in the drawing, it looked like. A 9mm Parabellum, it could be nothing else; he had fired enough of them to know. Ringed at the base and punctured for the insertion of the percussion cap.

'That's very interesting,' he said, passing it back. 'And you'll be guiding Mr Meriam back to join the others?'

'Sure will. First thing in the morning.'

'I would like to volunteer to go with you. May I?'

'John Brown can use every man he can get.'

'I'm glad to hear that,' Robbie Shaw broke in, speaking for the first time — though he had been listening intently. 'If he can use one volunteer he can use another. I'm going along as well.'

He was looking straight at Troy as he said it, and permitted a quick touch of a smile to move his lips. There was much talk and excitement after that, and only later did Troy have a chance to draw the Scotsman aside.

'What did you do that for?' Troy asked. 'This is no game now. People are going to get killed.'

'It never was a game — but it has been a puzzle. You know a lot of things that you haven't told me, though tonight you did tell me that this new ammunition has a good deal to do with you or the colonel — or both. The way you jumped when Copeland mentioned it. Are you going to let me know now what this thing is all about?'

'No. But I will tell you to get out while the going is good. I have to go to Harper's Ferry, but you don't. Please, Robbie, take my word for it. No good will come of this.'

'I'll take your word only when you let me know what this entire matter is all about. Can't you tell me what you were looking for in McCulloch's factory? You must have found something there if you tried to burn it down.'

Troy considered it. He had proof now that McCulloch was making the guns, and was also somehow involved in a conspiracy to manufacture the ammunition in a government armoury. This meant that a number of people knew what was happening and it was no longer necessary to keep the Sten-gun a secret. All he had to leave out was the fact that he had followed McCulloch here from the future.

'All right. It's only fair that you know now. I'm a government agent following McCulloch. Not only did he commit those murders I told you about, but he stole the drawings for a highly secret and deadly weapon. He believes firmly that war will soon come between the states, and he must have obtained the aid of other, like-minded Southerners. He is making the gun at his factory — I found a piece from it. But he has no ammunition works there, and this gun uses a special type of bullet. With a casing just like the one I was holding. And that is the puzzle. These cartridges are being made in a government armoury. Yet I can guarantee you — the government knows nothing about this.'

'The answer to that one is tragically easy. The officers in command of the rifle works must all be Southern sympathizers. That would be easy enough to arrange, so many of the Army officers are from Virginia. And what better place to hide the works than under everyone's noses? It's like Edgar Allan Foe's story of the purloined letter. I'm sorry, Troy, but after this you can't possibly stop me from joining you. What a story this will make! Remember, I'm a journalist first and an abolitionist second. Whatever happens at Harper's Ferry, why, it will be the news story of the decade. We're both off to join John Brown!'

Chapter 31

The storm blew itself out during the night and Saturday, October 15, dawned fresh and fair. All of the volunteers were up before dawn, ate a breakfast of hoecakes, and were on the road by first light. Copeland and Meriam rode ahead, while Troy and Shaw followed in the buggy. They made steady progress, and it was early in the afternoon when Copeland reined up his horse and pointed down the hillside.

'There it is, Harper's Ferry,' he said. 'Other side of the Potomac there, that's Maryland. After that the farmhouse is about seven miles farther on. You can see the bridge across the river, right over there.'

'Will we have to go through the town?' Shaw asked.

'Only way, unless you want to swim.'

'Then you ought to know that the slaveholders are looking for me and Troy. They could have telegraphed a description ahead to warn their people here to watch out for us. A black man and a white man in a buggy.'

'Easy enough to take care of that,' Copeland said. 'One of you changes places, goes through town on horseback.'

'Better be me,' Troy said. 'His leg is bandaged, that's why we're using the buggy.'

They rode into Harper's Ferry this way, Francis Meriam sitting next to Shaw while Troy rode Meriam's horse. The town was situated on a neck of land where the Shenandoah river joined the Potomac. This gave it a cramped appearance as the clustered homes, saloons, hotels and shops extended along the banks of both rivers and climbed up the slopes of Bolivar Heights behind. Copeland pointed out the sights as they rode along Potomac Street, busy with its traffic of horses, buggies and carts.

'See those buildings along the street here, the ones that look like factories? Well, they're not. That's the federal armoury, all stretched out, starting right after the fire-engine house. Forging here, then machine and stocking shop. The big one next is the arsenal where all the arms are stored.'

'Where is the rifle factory you were telling us about?'

'That would be Hall's Rifle Works, about a half mile further on, along that street, Shenandoah Street. See it? It's on that little island right out there in the river. Always got two sentries out in front, night and day. No one gets in or out lest they're known.'

It's in there, Troy thought, everything that I am looking for. It all has to be in there. The machines to manufacture the cartridges, the store of cartridges, maybe even the guns themselves. Assembled in there and stored there. Two men, that's not much of a guard to stand against a sudden raid.

Which raised the biggest question of all. Why had McCulloch chosen this place, of all the federal armouries, to site his illegal weapons factory? He must know enough about history to know that John Brown was going to raid here. That was a fact in all the books. It was impossible to believe that he hadn't read about it. So, knowing that the raid was coming — why, then, he must have taken precautions to prevent it. Possibly have prepared an ambush. But if it were an ambush, then John Brown would certainly have been told about it. At least one of his spies, John Cook, worked here. There could be others. It was all very unclear.