Read Confederate Gold and Silver Online

Authors: Peter F. Warren

Confederate Gold and Silver (17 page)

As he slept, the early evening sky displayed a bright red sun as it started to go down for the day. The red sun gave every indication the following day would be just as hot as this day had been. Soon the sun faded out of view and the sky gradually gave way to darkness. As day turned to night, Francis still catnapped in the back of the wagon as the train moved through the Virginia countryside under a full moon and a sky full of bright stars.

Without the slightest bit of warning, the peaceful ride they had been enjoying abruptly ended. As the train made its way down a slight grade and then began to navigate a turn, the train’s engine,
The
Lady
Richmond
, jumped the tracks that had been sabotaged earlier in the day by Yankee troops. Despite the brightness of the full moon there had been no time for either the train’s engineer or brakeman, or even for Sgt. Vane, to see the tracks had been damaged. The sharp curve in the tracks had given them little chance to see what lay ahead as they approached the damaged rails. The Yankees had picked the perfect spot to inflict their damage.

As the train derailed from the sabotaged tracks, its speed from going down the grade of the small hill caused the out of control engine to strike several large trees as it continued off the western edge of the tracks. As it struck the final tree, the train’s engine and fuel car came to an abrupt stop. Stopping abruptly caused the train’s fuel car, filled with wood for the trip, to violently slam into the rear of the engine. Wood from the fuel car now flew forward into the engine car. Despite leaving the tracks, and despite both cars striking each other, the train’s engine and fuel car both managed to remain upright.

The derailment caused the rest of the rail cars to separate from the train’s engine and fuel car. It also caused both men and horses to be knocked off their feet. At first, the only injuries were thought to have been a broken left leg and a broken left wrist that were sustained by Sgt. Edward Hatfield. He was from Florida and had been in the army for over two years without suffering a scratch during the several battles he had fought in. Now he had been seriously injured after riding in the relative safety of a rail car. After Francis and his men finished checking on everyone who had been in the rail cars, they moved to check on the three men in the train’s first two cars. As they did, they quickly located the crushed and mangled bodies of Sgt. Vane and the train’s engineer. Both had been killed instantly when wood used to fuel the train had flown forward into the engine compartment when the two cars had collided with each other. Both men had sustained significant injuries to their head and chest areas. As Francis had found these two men, his men soon found the brakeman’s body. He had died after being thrown from the train when it struck the last tree. The mission was barely three hours old and Francis already had his first casualty. It would prove to be a sign of things to come.

As Francis had checked on Vane, some of the others already started to spread out in the woods around the train in the event Union troops were preparing to attack them. They had done this even before they were given the order to do so. The Virginia sergeants, who had already seen enough fighting in the war, had learned what to do from listening to stories told back home. They were stories which had been handed down through the generations regarding the fighting done during the Revolutionary War. They now reacted to what had to be done without being told. When Francis saw the steps they had taken to protect the others, he gave them each a nod of approval for what they had done.

Out of fear that Union troops might still be in the woods around the wrecked train, Francis kept his four Virginia sergeants on alert in the woods. They would be his eyes and ears, sounding the alarm if they saw any suspicious activity. He then ordered the others to start off-loading the train. He now had to move over land until he could find the next train station.

It took over three hours to fell the trees needed to make ramps so the wagons and horses could be carefully off-loaded from the train, but they did so without any further problems and without any signs of Union troops. As the train was being off-loaded, Francis silently wondered about the damage that had been done to the railroad tracks. “Was this done because they wanted to just disrupt the railroad from being able to move supplies along the lines or do they already know about the gold and silver we are moving? The Union has spies everywhere. Could they have been at the Richmond train station? If they do know what we have, why have they not attacked us when we were so unprepared to repel such an attack?” These thoughts and many others like them would race through his mind for the rest of the night.

There was no time to bury Vane and the other two men, but Francis saw to it their bodies were wrapped in blankets and then placed inside one of the rail cars. He identified Vane’s body with a brief note he left in one of his shirt pockets. After saying a quick prayer for Vane and the other men, Francis gave the order to move the wagons south and away from the wrecked train. As they moved out, he hoped somewhere close was a doctor they could find so the injuries sustained by Hatfield could be treated properly. For now he would have to endure the pain he was experiencing with his broken leg. While he was concerned about Hatfield’s injuries, Francis’ main concern now was putting distance between them and the wrecked train. As they moved south, each bump the wagon hit that carried the injured Sgt. Hatfield caused him to cry out in pain.

As soon as Francis knew they seemed to be no longer in immediate danger, he deployed Sgt. Stine and Sgt. Griffin to be his eyes and ears out in front of the wagons. He also deployed Sgt. George James, a Louisiana lumberman by trade, to do the same in the rear of the wagon train. It was one which had been formed out of necessity. Knowing the wagon train was being protected somewhat by the three scouts he had sent out, Francis then sent Sgt. Micah Steele, a twenty-one year old Mississippi fisherman before the war, to ride out in front of the others, instructing him to find a doctor or a plantation where they might find some medical care for Hatfield. “If you find help, I want you to report back to me immediately. Do not approach anyone about Hatfield’s injuries without me being there.”

“Yes, sir!” Steele was quickly out of sight as he rode off into the darkness of the Virginia night.

Riding his horse in front of the lead wagon, Francis decided he had to get word back to Memminger to tell him about the train wreck and the change to his plans. Locating Sgt. Davis, he instructed him to ride back to Richmond and to personally tell Memminger what had happened. “Make sure you tell him we are moving south over land for now. Most importantly, assure him the gold and silver is safe, but tell him about Vane and the others. Tell him I would consider it a personal favor if he would see to it that Vane was buried properly. After you tell him what has happened, get back to me as fast as possible. I am relying on you Virginia men to help me complete this mission.”

“Sir, I will be back as soon as I can. I promise I will find you. Make no mistake about that. Them Yankees got me upset now for what they did to that Georgia boy back there. I’m afixin’ to get even with them.” With that, Davis rode off to Richmond to tell Memminger what had happened.

It was close to midnight as the wagons moved south under a bright full moon. As they did, each man reacted to the noises they heard in the woods, fully expecting the noises to be made by Union troops riding out to attack them. It took some time, but finally these country boys who made up Francis’ unit settled down and their years of living in the woods back home allowed them to easily identify the noises emanating in the night.

They moved south for another hour, moving slowly along a narrow country road at times and at other times through open fields before Francis had them stop to rest. As the men rested, he tried to get his bearings from a map he had been given back in Richmond. They had only been stopped for about ten minutes when the alarm was spread that riders were heard approaching from the south. As they took up defensive positions around the wagons, a voice they recognized as belonging to Sgt. Steele could be heard. “Boys, don’t do no shootin’! It’s just me, Micah! We’re coming in!” Sgt. Griffin had returned with him.

Dismounting from his horse, Steele advised Francis he had located a small plantation with several outbuildings and three barns about four miles southeast of where they now were stopped. “I was real quiet like, no one heard me. I got so close to the house I could even see a candle burning in one of the upstairs windows.” The news pleased Francis as now something positive had happened. He hoped Hatfield would soon be treated for his injuries as he knew it had been a tough ride for him to have endured with a bone protruding from his broken leg.

******

Francis signaled the wagons to come to a halt when they had gotten to about three hundred yards away from the small home. It was obviously the home of the plantation owner. As he approached the home on foot, accompanied by Sgt. Steele and Sgt. Gerald Rickert, Francis saw through an open window that a candle softly illuminated one of the upstairs bedrooms. The house was quiet and they could see no movement from within as they approached near the front door.

Instead of trying to wake the occupants by knocking on what appeared to be the main door of the house, Francis elected to call out to them instead. He did so as he thought it was likely safer to wake them up from a distance than to be standing on the plantation’s front porch and being shot at by a startled homeowner, woken in the middle of the night by strangers. He woke them after only two loud calls to the house.

After getting the attention of the sleeping occupants, Francis identified himself to them and told them of the injuries sustained by one of his men. In a few moments the front door opened and he was greeted by a woman who appeared to be in her late forties. “Ma’am, thank you for helping us. One of my men is hurt real bad and needs more help than we can give him. Is there a doctor nearby?”

Mary Charles was a widow and the owner of the small plantation. She lived there now with just her young daughter. She had become a fierce supporter of the Confederate cause over the past two years. Her husband had died a few years earlier and now she carried the pain of only recently learning of the death of one of her three sons. He had been killed fighting for the South during the Battle of Funkstown, during Lee’s retreat south from Gettysburg. Her other two boys were serving in the Army of Northern Virginia, but she did not know where they currently were. As Francis talked to her, he brought a smile to her worn face when he told her that he and four of his men were native Virginians.

“Captain, you bring that boy in the house. I will have the parlor table cleaned off. No sense carrying him upstairs, him being hurt and all. If the damn Yankees did this to him I want to help!” Seeing the late night commotion had woken a couple of her slaves, who were now standing in the yard near the front door, Mary quickly barked orders to ‘Big Richard’ and his wife Tika. “Big Richard, come in here and help me move the parlor furniture. Tika, get some water boiling and get some bandages ready. Rip those old sheets up that we got stored in the closet.” As Mary turned to walk back into the house, Francis heard her mutter three words. “Damn Blue Bellies!”

After Hatfield had been carried into the house and placed on the parlor table, Francis again asked Mary about a doctor. “Captain, I’ve worked this plantation with my dear departed husband, with my three boys, and now with just my daughter, for many a year. With the help of our slaves, I’ve done so for over twenty years, started it from nothing. At one time or another they all have had broken legs, arms, fingers, and, Lord knows, much worse. With Tika’s help, and with the help of the good Lord, I have always got them back on their feet somehow. Didn’t need a damn doctor then and I don’t need one now. Now listen here young fella, I’m sure you are an important man and all, but right now you and your men are in our way. Y’all need to get out of our way so we can take care of this boy. Now scat!” As he turned to leave, Francis could not help but smile. They had found the help they needed in Mary Charles.

With Hatfield being tended to by Mary, Francis focused on his other men and the sleep they needed. After Big Richard showed him the insides of each barn, Francis had the wagons brought into the barns as by now the sky had clouded over. Off in the distance lighting could be seen in the sky. After the wagons had been secured inside the barns, and the horses secured within two adjoining fenced in corrals, Francis went back to check on Hatfield.

Keeping his distance from Mary, Francis saw Hatfield’s broken leg had already been placed in a crude splint. She was just finishing tending to his broken left wrist. As she continued to treat Hatfield’s injuries, Francis spoke to her. “Mrs. Charles, my men need a meal and some sleep. They are likely not going to be enjoying a good hot meal for several days. We have the rations and provisions to make a fine meal with, which we are pleased to share with you, but we need to use your kitchen. If we . . .” He was cut off in mid-sentence by her.

“What kind of a host do y’all think I am?” She did not wait for him to reply. “I already have Tika and my daughter in the kitchen starting to cook. Give her whatever food y’all can spare and they will get it cooked for you. I ain’t having our boys leave my home without getting a good home cooked meal. Lord only knows when their next one will be.” Directing her attention to two of Francis’ men, she barked her next orders at them, “Now you boys do what you can to set up a place to eat in the backroom off of the kitchen. I ain’t having y’all eat in the barn, but mind my clean floors, ya hear?”

Francis again smiled as he knew Mary was more than likely a lot less gruff than what she showed to them. Her feelings for his men gave away what she felt in her heart for the strangers who were soldiers just like her sons.

When the meal was finally ready, Francis had his men rotate in from guard duty in the barn so they could eat. As they enjoyed their meal, they could now see the rain and lighting that was moving into the area, cooling the night off as it did. After they had eaten, they took turns sleeping on the floors within Mary’s home. Later as they slept, the rain grew harder and harder.

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