Unholy Fire by Robert J. Mrazek

Author:Robert J. Mrazek
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781497646674
Publisher: Open Road Distribution

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The magnitude of our task became evident as soon as the boat had nestled up to the wharf. A company of armed infantrymen was deployed at the foot of the arrival ramp, and an officer was checking the orders of each passenger before he was allowed to disembark. In case they were looking specifically for me, I sent Billy along the passageway to try to find out what was happening. We met back in the main passenger salon.

“They are detaining anyone with a pass signed by General Hathaway or the provost marshal general,” he said.

“Good. Well we know they are expecting us,” I said.

Motioning for him to follow me across the salon to the passageway on the outer side of the boat deck, I leaned over the railing. A small freight barge stacked with stove wood and coal was inching toward the loading bay of the packet boat to replenish its fuel stocks before the return run down to Aquia.

As the barge came alongside, Billy and I climbed over the railing and dropped down to the top of the woodpile. A greasy-haired man with a walrus mustache was standing in the wheelhouse, his boozy countenance reflected in the oil lamp that swung from the overhead. An open bottle of whiskey rested securely in his right hand.

Without preliminaries, I told him that I was absent without leave and hoped to avoid the soldiers on the wharf. He demanded ten dollars, which I immediately paid him. Five minutes later he deposited us on an unlit pier near the navy drydock.

Washington had received a major cloudburst shortly before our arrival. Runnels of water were still sluicing off buildings and wooden sidewalks into the streets, transforming them into muddy trenches. It made for slow going in the hansom cab we commandeered outside one of the waterfront saloons.

We emerged onto Pennsylvania Avenue just east of the Capitol Building and headed slowly down the hill toward the War Department. The avenue was filled with vehicles of every description, and most of them were having trouble navigating through the flooded roadways. Even with the hour approaching midnight, however, people were still crowded along the sidewalks in front of the brightly lit hotels and restaurants.

Hearing the thunderous sound of galloping horses and clattering sabers, I looked up to see two cavalry squadrons in bird’s-egg blue uniforms charging up the avenue as if the fate of the Republic depended on their mission. The horses’ hooves kicked up great clods of mud that flew in every direction, splattering the clothes and finery of the people crowded onto the sidewalk.

The president’s mansion was almost completely dark as we rode by, and I wondered whether President Lincoln was still working up in his private office. The thought of him actually being there gave me another idea as we pulled up at the side entrance to the War Department building on Seventeenth Street.

As Billy and I got out of the carriage, I stared up at the hundreds of windows in the massive building and saw that only a handful were lit.

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