Pettibone spat. "At least it ain't cavalry."
But there were nearly a thousand infantrymen, and the Patapsco River separating them from the railroad tracks was so shallow after a hot, dry autumn that the soldiers could easily splash across at the first alarm. The platform was well within range of the enemy's Springfield rifles, although it was doubtful the Yankees would open fire with civilian passengers still aboard the train. The raiders had counted on the Chesapeake stopping for breakfast, but not on a regiment of Yankees using the town as a campground.
That wasn't the worst of it. Three soldiers swung down from the baggage car and walked out onto the platform. All three carried rifles with fixed bayonets. They eyed the men on the platform suspiciously. Hudson came out of the car and sat on the iron steps. Behind the soldiers' backs, he held up three fingers, pointed at the Yankees, then pointed at the car and made a circle with his fingers to indicate no one else was inside.
"Who the hell are they?" Forbes asked.
"Guards," Percy said. "Lincoln's on the train, remember? It makes sense they didn't send him entirely alone."
"Now what?" Pettibone wondered out loud, speaking for all of them. They hadn't planned on hijacking the train in plain view of a Yankee regiment.
Percy just stared across the river, thinking
Chapter 10
"Look at all them Yankees," Hazlett said. "We can't steal the damn train now. Ain't that right, Colonel?"
Percy appeared not to have heard. He was busy studying the Yankee camp across the river. When he finally spoke, it was to give orders: "Captain Cater, take Private Cook with you and go to the rear of the train and get up on the last car. If anyone chases us, they'll try to jump on the back. Don't let them."
"That's Mr. Lincoln's car, sir."
"Yes, but don't worry yourself about that. Lincoln and whoever else is with him will stay holed up in that car like gophers, which is just where we want them. No one is supposed to know they're aboard, remember? Lincoln isn't about to show himself."
Percy quickly gave the rest of his orders. He sent Cephas Wilson and Hank Cunningham to the locomotive and told them to get the train underway. He ordered Hazlett, Forbes and Pettibone aboard the tender, to help the railroad men in any way they needed.
"If there's any shooting that needs doing, you men take care of it and let those two run the train," Percy said.
"What about us, Colonel, sir?" Flynn asked when he found that he, Benjamin and Fletcher were the only ones left on the platform with Percy.
"Fletcher, you and I will take the first passenger car," Percy said. He nodded at Flynn and Benjamin. "You two take the second car. If any of the passengers cause trouble, shoot them."
"All right," Flynn said. He looked toward the Yankee soldiers on the platform. "What about the guards?"
"Hudson will take care of them."
The massive driving wheels of the Chesapeake began to move, and a fresh gout of smoke filled the air. Inside the locomotive's cab, Cunningham opened the blower and increased the air flow to the locomotive's firebox so the wood could burn hotter.
The train was still under steam, and using both hands, Wilson took hold of the Johnson bar, which was about three feet tall and jutted straight up from the floor of the locomotive right beside the engineer's seat. He shoved it forward, putting his weight into it, and the train began to roll.
He pulled back the two-foot long throttle lever, gave the locomotive a burst of steam, then shoved the throttle forward again, shutting off the steam. He repeated this action three times, which got the locomotive rolling more effectively than opening the throttle wide open. That would only have caused the wheels to slip uselessly on the rails. Still, the driving wheels spun as they sought purchase on the well-polished rails. Wilson reached up and pulled a handle at the end of a long bar which ran the length of the locomotive to the sand box atop the forward end. Tubes ran down the sides of the locomotive, spitting sand on the rails just in front of the wheels to give them traction.
As the train began to move, Flynn ran for the second car with Benjamin close behind him. The boy had already pulled out the Colt Navy revolver, and Flynn stopped and gently laid a hand on the gun before they reentered the coach.
"Remember, lad, I gave you that gun to shoot soldiers, not old ladies. Best put it away till you need it. And need it you will, before the day is out."
"Goddamnit, Flynn— "
Flynn glared at him. "That's Sergeant Flynn to you, lad, and I'm tellin' you to put that gun away. No use in causing trouble just yet."
Benjamin gave him a sullen look, but did as he was told. They returned to the car they had ridden out from Ellicott Mills. Already the train was moving, groaning, shuffling ahead like an old man.
As the train began to roll, the three soldiers on the platform ran for the baggage car.
"It's leavin' without us, fellas," one of the men shouted.
The guards had no reason to think the train was being stolen, so they did not shout for help to the soldiers across the river. Hudson was no longer sitting on the steps, but was waiting just inside the open doorway of the car. As the three guards crowded onto the narrow walkway at the front of the car, Hudson jumped out and used his massive arms to grab up all three startled guards in a bear hug. He hurled them off the train before they could even cry out in protest.
The guards landed in a heap on the far side of the train, out of sight of the encamped soldiers. One man writhed on the ground in pain, holding an arm that was twisted at an odd angle. Another guard jumped up and ran at Hudson, but he kicked the man neatly in the jaw and the soldier flopped to the ground.
The third man ran toward the train, bayonet at the ready, but he backed off when he saw the Colt revolver in Hudson's hand. The guard raised his rifle to fire, but the train was picking up speed, and Hudson was already out of sight, giving the guard the side of the car as a target.
"Thieves!" he shouted, although the train drowned him out as it rolled away from the platform. "Thieves!"
"Biscuits and coffee for us," George Greer said to Mrs. Sykes, scooting his chair closer to the table in the dining room of Sykes's Hotel.
"Lots of coffee und butter for the biscuits," added Oscar Schmidt, the engineer. He still had a hint of his German accent, even though he had lived in Baltimore for twenty years, and pronounced his "W's" as "V's." "It vill be a long journey to Cumberland."
"Hungry work," agreed Walter Frost, the fireman. It was his job to keep water in the Chesapeake's boiler and a steady supply of wood in the firebox. He was not a large man but he was sinewy and muscular. His hands were like leather, the fingers square-tipped stubs from handling cordwood all day. He had washed before entering the hotel, but ash still clung to the creases in his face and to his hair.
The three railroad men had made the run to western Maryland many times. Greer and Schmidt had worked together for years and knew each other almost as well as they knew their own wives. Frost wasn't married, although there was a war widow he got on well with in Baltimore.
"What do you reckon is in that last car?" Frost asked. It had been attached to their train in the early morning hours as they left the city. An officer had told them it was being added to their train and that they should leave the car alone. He had been emphatic about that.
Greer shrugged. "Army business," he said.
He was just as curious as Frost, of course, but he knew better than to be too inquisitive where the military was concerned. B&O officials assisted the military whenever possible, because they counted on the army to guard the tracks against marauding Confederates. Consequently, his bosses would not look kindly upon a nosy conductor.