Rebel Train: A Civil War Novel

Chapter 23

Much to his annoyance, Greer watched the Chesapeake's smoke trail fade into the vast, violet shadows of the mountains ahead. Even he had to admit they were hopelessly far behind. On foot, there wasn't much chance of catching up again. It could not be a good sign, either, that the second column of smoke from the approaching eastbound locomotive had halted, hovering now on the horizon.

"What's going on, Greer?" Captain Lowell demanded. Only his wounded pride kept him urging his soldiers on. He was anxious to call a halt to what he saw as a futile chase and return to his post guarding the Monocacy River crossing.

"I don't know what the hell those bastards are doing," Greer snapped. "Just keep your men moving."

Captain Lowell was about to argue, but Oscar Schmidt put a stop to that. "You heard him," the big German growled. "Keep marching."

Uncertain of what to do, the captain let himself be swayed again by Greer's tenacity. But he wasn't completely beaten. "Two more miles," he said. "Then we turn around."

Greer only grunted in reply, then started down the tracks. The soldiers marched on, matching the fast pace set by Greer, in spite of his limp.

Up ahead, the eastbound train's column of smoke began to move toward them again. Greer felt like cheering. After several minutes, the train came into sight.

"Stand near the tracks, wave your arms, flag them down," Greer excitedly ordered the soldiers, bypassing the captain.

"Do as he says," Lowell shouted, but the soldiers were already obeying Greer.

"What if they don't stop?" asked a soldier standing in the center of the tracks.

"They'll stop," Greer said. "Flap your arms like you were trying to fly. Just don't stand in the middle of the tracks unless you're anxious to leave this world for the next."

Greer took up a position in front of the rest of them, waving his stout, powerful arms at the oncoming train. For a moment, the train gave no sign of stopping, and it seemed the soldiers’ fears might be justified and they would all face a long walk back to the Monocacy River, empty-handed. The locomotive bore down on them, laboring under a billowing cloud of smoke. Then there was a screech of brakes, the screech of iron gripping iron, and tons of machinery slid to a halt just yards short of where Greer stood beside the gleaming rails.

The engineer leaned out from the cab. "What the hell is going on?"

Greer ran forward. "You're Tom Coker, aren't you? My name's Greer. Some sons of bitches stole my train. You just passed it back there."

The engineer nodded. "I didn't expect to find you out here, Greer. I just picked up some people the Rebs put off your train."

Greer could hardly believe what he was hearing. Rebels! So, the men who had stolen his train weren't just train thieves, after all. The engineer climbed down and joined him on the ground.

"You mean Rebels took my train?"

"That's what the passengers said. Confederate soldiers, led by that Colonel Percy. He's that Confederate colonel I've read about in the newspapers, leading all those cavalry raids."

"Arthur Percy?" Greer said. He had also read about Percy. Baltimore was a pro-Southern city, and the newspapers published lengthy accounts of Confederate exploits.

"The one who led the Buckley Courthouse raid?"

"One and the same. He's the leader of this raid."

"What are the Rebs doing up here?" Greer was amazed they had struck so deep into Maryland. "The payroll for the Cumberland garrison is aboard, and I reckoned they were after that. They're not in uniform."

"Then they'll be treated as spies when they're caught," the engineer said. "Strung up from the nearest tree."

"I'll be damned," Greer said, feeling a new sense of rage spread through him. "Rebels stole my train."

"The passengers said there are eleven men. No rifles that they could see, just revolvers. One of the men is hurt bad. Shot."

"Thanks to this," Greer said, brandishing the shotgun he had managed to save from the wreckage at the Monocacy.

"I've got twenty men," said Captain Lowell, who had been standing quietly to one said. "They're armed with Springfield rifles. I don't think the raiders will give us much trouble."

Coker studied Lowell a moment, taking his measure. He frowned and said, "These are tough customers… Captain. That Colonel Percy ain't no Bible preacher, from what I've heard of him. He and his men have already murdered at least three passengers. Odds are those Johnny Rebs are all veterans. They know how to fight, and they don't scare easy."

At that point, Greer was long past caution. He just wanted the thieves caught, his train returned, the payroll money safe. He didn't care if Confederate soldiers or common thieves had taken the train. Either way, soldiers out of uniform or train thieves could all be hanged alongside the railroad tracks and left for the crows to pick at.

"Captain Lowell, get your men aboard," Greer said. "Schmidt! You, me and Frost will ride on the tender."

"Now hold on, Greer," said Coker. "This train is going on to Baltimore. It ain't my job to chase Rebel raiders."

Greer put his hands on his hips and glared at the engineer. He looked as stubborn and immobile as a granite boulder. "Look here, Coker. You work for the B&O Railroad, don't you?"

"You know I do."

"Well, that train is B&O property. It's been stolen. There's government money aboard that's been entrusted to the B&O. As a B&O employee, it is your duty to reverse this train and go after those raiders, whether they are Rebels or ordinary thieves."

The other conductor was not giving in. "Hell, Greer, the way I see it, you're the one who lost that train. It ain't my responsibility."

There was no way Greer was letting Coker's train go on to Baltimore. He needed it to pursue the Rebel raiders, and he would take the train by force if necessary.

"Captain Lowell, will you kindly tell Mr. Coker that you are commandeering this train in the name of the United States Government?"

Coker held up his hands to protest. "Now hold on here— "

"Mr. Coker?" Lowell shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "By the power vested in me— "

"You're not a preacher, Captain." Greer felt himself growing more agitated. He took a deep breath. "Just tell him to put his goddamn train in reverse and go after those Rebs."

Captain Lowell nodded, looked at the conductor. "Do as he says."

Grumbling, Coker climbed back on his engine. "I'm going to file a formal complaint with the railroad when I get back to Baltimore, Greer."

"You might not want to do that, considering you'll be a hero for capturing those raiders."

The engine lurched into reverse. It was now pushing twenty loaded cars, instead of pulling them, and the train gathered speed very slowly. With so many cars there was an increased risk of derailing, so Coker refused to give the engine full throttle. They were going after the raiders, but the train was moving so slowly that it could hardly be called a chase. Greer kept looking toward the horizon in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Chesapeake's smoke. The sky remained empty.

The Rebels already had a good lead, and the argument with Coker and now the slowness of the reversing train had cost them time. If they didn't move faster, the raiders would soon be close to Confederate-held territory. Greer might never see his train again.

"We'll never catch that damn train at this rate," he said.

"Beats walkin'," Walter Frost pointed out. Like Greer and Schmidt, he was also exhausted from running and then pumping the hand car in the wake of the Chesapeake.

"If ya'll don't mind, shut the hell up," Coker said. "I ain't heard as much whinin' from half a dozen young'uns in a candy store as I done heard from the three of you."

Schmidt's big face turned red with anger, and he might have tossed Coker off the locomotive if Greer hadn't stepped between him and the other engineer. "Goddamn fool," Schmidt growled, trying to push past Greer and get at the engineer.

"Anytime you're ready, Dutchy."

The two might have scuffled if Frost had not suddenly pointed ahead and shouted, "Look at that!"

To Greer's amazement, a locomotive on a siding came into view. It was under steam, on the westbound tracks. At first, he thought it might be the Chesapeake, abandoned by the raiders. But he could see differences as they drew closer. There were no cars, only the engineer and tender. A small crew stood nearby, clearly curious, but not alarmed by the approach of the reversing train.

Then Greer noticed Lord Baltimore painted on the side of the cab in ornate, gold lettering.

He smiled. He recognized the locomotive as one of the B&O's newest, built by the Baldwin Ironworks in Philadelphia. Fast and powerful, the locomotive was on a test run, having left Baltimore that morning well ahead of the Chesapeake. The polished edged of the massive driving wheels gleamed in the autumn sun. Greer would wager a month's pay that the Lord Baltimore could do seventy miles per hour. The engine was pointed west, under steam, ready to go.

"Stop the train," Greer said. "We just found ourselves one hell of a fast locomotive."

Percy watched with a mixture of fear and elation as the cliffs of Harpers Ferry loomed closer. Unconsciously, he let his hand slip to his holster and touch the grip of his Colt. Known locally as Maryland Heights, the towering cliff above Harpers Ferry and the Potomac River might as well represent the odds stacked against them, he thought. The revolver was a puny weapon against so huge an obstacle, not to mention a whole garrison of Union soldiers on the other side of the river.

Harpers Ferry was the town where the Civil War essentially began when the abolitionist zealot John Brown seized the federal arsenal in 1858. Robert E. Lee, then a colonel in the Union army, had ordered his soldiers to storm the arsenal and put an end to the act of rebellion. Stuart's aide, Lieutenant J.E.B. Stuart, led the attack. Just a few years later, Lee would be commanding the whole of the Confederate army and General Stuart would be riding to glory at the head of his famed cavalry.

As the Chesapeake raced toward the Potomac River crossing that led to the town on the West Virginia shore of the river, Percy was less worried about history than the current state of affairs in Harpers Ferry. Shadows cast by the hills and bare trees grew long as the November afternoon wore on. It had taken longer than Percy anticipated to reach the Potomac. The challenge now was to cross the river and get as close as possible to the rendezvous point at Romney before darkness fell.

They could still travel after dark — the Chesapeake was equipped with kerosene lanterns — but it would be too dangerous to operate at full speed because they would be unable to see the tracks ahead. There was no telling what might be on them — fallen rocks, brush, a stray cow — and Percy had no desire to derail in the mountains ahead without any idea where they were. Also, it would be easy to miss the rendezvous in the darkness. Therefore, speed was of the essence if they were going to reach their destination before nightfall.

Ever since that day John Brown had seized the arsenal, control of Harpers Ferry had changed hands many times between North and South. Stonewall Jackson's troops had sacked the town in September 1863 before the fight at Sharpsburg. The long railroad bridge had been destroyed by flood or soldiers time and time again, only to be rebuilt by the Union's unstoppable engineers. The bridge had to be rebuilt and guarded because the span was part of the vital rail line that linked Washington City with the western states.

The bridge was constructed of iron Bollman trusses, an ingenious bridge-building system that was resistant to fire, but not to the raging waters of the Potomac when the mighty river flooded. The town and crossing were under the protection of Union artillery on Maryland Heights. Percy knew the Yankee gunners could easily blow the Chesapeake into oblivion if the telegraph had already alerted them to the stolen train.

Percy realized both his fireman and engineer were watching him expectantly.

"Now what, sir?" Wilson finally asked.

"Open the throttle," Percy ordered. "Let's see how fast we can cross that bridge."

George Greer watched with satisfaction as soldiers and his own crew swarmed onto the Lord Baltimore. "Grab hold of something," he shouted. "This train is going to fly."

"How are we going to get all my men on there?" Captain Lowell wondered.

"They can ride on the tender if they have to," Greer said. As he admired the gleaming new locomotive, it was all he could do not to give a big old war whoop. "Ha! With an engine like that, there's nothing that can outrun us."

The soldiers jammed aboard the Lord Baltimore. At first, the conductor for the B&O's new locomotive complained, but his protests were soon drowned out. Red-faced, he jumped down from the cab and shook his fist at Greer. "If you wreck this train, it's on your head, not mine!"

Not all the displaced crew was so hostile. "We saw your train go by," the Lord Baltimore's fireman said to Greer. "She was steaming west like a bat out of hell. She's got quite a head start, but if anything can catch her, it's this engine here."

Greer, Schmidt and Frost crowded into the cab, along with the young captain. The soldiers climbed onto the tender or wherever else they could find a perch.

They were just getting underway when a lone, rotund figure jumped down heavily from the train they had been riding and ran toward them with a rolling, clumsy gait.

"Wait for me!" the heavyset man puffed. Greer recognized him as one of the passengers from the Chesapeake put off by the raiders. "I want to come along."

"Who the hell are you?" Greer demanded.

"My name's Prescott," he wheezed. "I'm a lawyer."

Greer could not help but laugh. "We don't need any lawyers, Mr. Prescott. We're going to hang these Rebs, not sue 'em — or put 'em on trial, either, for that matter."

"I want to see this thing through," Prescott said. "Besides, I know all these Confederates by sight. I can help you find them if they leave the train and head into any towns."

"He has a point there," Captain Lowell said.

Greer thought it over. "All right, Mr. Prescott, jump on."

Prescott was jogging alongside the engine, which was rapidly gaining speed. The effort left him red-faced and wheezing. Schmidt reached down and helped swing Prescott's bulk aboard. The cab became even more crowded as the fat man squeezed inside.

Not that Greer was paying any attention to comfort. He smiled, watching Schmidt's capable hands work the controls. He had heard about the Lord Baltimore, and he knew they were going after the raiders in one of the biggest, fastest locomotives that had ever run the B&O's rails. This was one of the new breed of locomotives that would spin across the rails leading west once the bloodshed of the war was over.

Greer watched an enormous grin appear on the engineer's beefy face as he opened the throttle and felt the power of the huge driving wheels spin, then finally catch on the rails. Frost was busy with a shovel, tossing coal into the firebox. Unlike most of the other trains operated by the B&O, the Lord Baltimore was a coal-burner. The new-fangled fuel provided an even, intense heat that helped push the locomotive to greater speeds than her wood-burning counterparts. Thick, black smoke poured from the funnel overhead.

"Now we've got them!" Greer shouted. He felt elated. He had a fast engine under him and a squadron of armed soldiers aboard. Finally, he had a real chance of catching and stopping the Rebel raiders. "We'll hang every last one of the bastards along the tracks and let the crows peck the eyes out of their damn Rebel carcasses."

"We don't have any rope," Captain Lowell pointed out.

"Then we shall have a firing squad," Greer said. "Line up those thieving Rebs and shoot them." He was enjoying himself.

"I'm not sure I can order my men to do that," Lowell said uneasily.

"You can always shoot the Rebels if they try to escape, Captain," Greer pointed out, grinning wickedly, and thinking that Lowell was too soft to be a decent officer. "It might just happen that those Rebs are all going to be shot trying to escape. What do you think of that, Mr. Prescott? From a legal point of view?"

The lawyer was still trying to get his wind back after running to catch the train. "Whatever you say," he wheezed. "You're the conductor."

"That's what I like to hear." Greer clapped him on the back, then said gleefully, "Open her up, Oscar. Let's see what she can do."

Schmidt opened the throttle wide. The sudden rush of wind tore off the soldiers’ hats and howled outside the cab as the engine surged ahead, faster and faster. To Greer's ears, that wind was the sound of vengeance.