David Healey - Rebel Train

“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.