Behind Rebel Lines by Seymour Reit

Author:Seymour Reit
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

9

May 20, 1862

The moon was curtained with thick clouds. Wind rustled the willow trees along the Chickahominy. Now and then came the faint grumble of far-off cannon fire.

A rowboat slipped silently through the dark, pieces of blanket tied around the oars to keep them from splashing. When the boat reached the opposite river bank, a heavy middle-aged woman climbed out. She waved to the oarsman. He raised a hand in salute, turned his boat, and headed back to the far shore.

The woman, carrying a wicker basket, looked around to get her bearings. She knew from maps that the great Chickahominy swamp was on her left. If she followed its edge through the woods, she’d reach a dirt road winding away from the river. With a nod, the woman started off. Her long skirt made walking through the underbrush difficult, and branches snagged the basket she carried. After a mile or so, she found the road—a dim, gray band in the darkness. Here she would stay until dawn; then she’d head for the Confederate lines.

The tired woman sat down and leaned gratefully against a tree. Emma Edmonds, alias Franklin Thompson, alias Cuff the contraband slave, was now an Irish peddler named Bridget O’Shea. Her new disguise—and cover story—had been carefully worked out in the chaplain’s cabin.

“I can’t go back as Cuff,” Emma had explained to Mrs. Butler. “Remember, that rebel officer left me standing guard duty. If Cuff showed up, he might be recognized. They could arrest him for deserting his post.”

Mrs. Butler nodded, and the two friends lapsed into silence. Suddenly the older woman jumped up, hurried into the bedroom, and came back dragging an old campaign trunk.

“I brought a deal of fancy clothes with me from Baltimore,” she said. “Lord knows I can’t use them in this rough place, but you can.”

Together they rummaged through the trunk, and soon Emma was transformed from an ordinary soldier into a plump, bosomy matron. Mrs. Butler tied a pillow around Emma’s middle for bulk. Then came a petticoat, a fancy blouse, and a heavy skirt that reached the floor. Over all of this went a sweater and a fringed shawl. Mrs. Butler dusted flour in Emma’s dark hair to turn it gray, then tied a big bonnet on her head. She stood back and studied the results. “One more touch,” she announced. Poking in her sewing box, she found her extra pair of metal-rimmed eyeglasses and perched them on Emma’s nose. “Perfect,” she said. “Let them slide a bit, and look over the top.”

To complete the disguise, Emma filled a basket with peddler’s goods for the Southern soldiers—spools of thread, needles, matches, a pair of scissors, pieces of soap, corncakes, and packets of tea. Looking at herself in Mrs. Butler’s mirror, Emma grinned. She liked the overall effect. Thousands of Irish immigrants had recently come to America, fleeing the terrible potato famine. Many had settled in this part of the country, so it was a safe cover. If anyone asked questions, she’d say she was from Providence Forge and had left a few jumps ahead of the advancing Yankees.

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