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horse. The town was situated on a neck of land where the Shenandoah river joined the Potomac. This
gave it a cramped appearance as the clustered homes, saloons, hotels and shops extended along the
banks of both rivers and climbed up the slopes of Bolivar Heights behind. Copeland pointed out the
sights as they rode along Potomac Street, busy with its traffic of horses, buggies and carts.
'See those buildings along the street here, the ones that look like factories? Well, they're not. That's the
federal armoury, all stretched out, starting right after the fire-engine house. Forging here, then machine
and stocking shop. The big one next is the arsenal where all the arms are stored.'
'Where is the rifle factory you were telling us about?'
'That would be Hall's Rifle Works, about a half mile further on, along that street, Shenandoah Street. See
it? It's on that little island right out there in the river. Always got two sentries out in front, night and day.
No one gets in or out lest they're known.'
It's in there, Troy thought, everything that I am looking for. It all has to be in there. The machines to
manufacture the cartridges, the store of cartridges, maybe even the guns themselves. Assembled in there
and stored there. Two men, that's not much of a guard to stand against a sudden raid.
Which raised the biggest question of all. Why had McCulloch chosen this place, of all the federal
armouries, to site his illegal weapons factory? He must know enough about history to know that John
Brown was going to raid here. That was a fact in all the books. It was impossible to believe that he hadn't
read about it. So, knowing that the raid was coming why, then, he must have taken precautions to
prevent it. Possibly have prepared an ambush. But if it were an ambush, then John Brown would certainly
have been told about it. At least one of his spies, John Cook, worked here. There could be others. It
was all very unclear.
No one appeared to take any notice of them as they passed through Harper's Ferry and onto the
covered bridge across the Potomac. It was a rail bridge as well and a B & O train from Washington
passed them half way across, shaking the structure beneath them and puffing out clouds of smoke. Soon
after crossing the bridge they turned off the turnpike and onto a country lane. Being careful that they were
not followed, Copeland led them up into the foothills of the mountains, to the secret hideout. A
ramshackle, two-storey farmhouse, with a kitchen garden in front. Two young girls were working there,
and they waved to the men as they came up. While they were tying up their horses the front door opened
and a thin man with a full white beard stepped out. His face was lined, craggy, his mouth wide and sealed
into a hard slit.
'Mr Brown,' Copeland said. 'I have brought some volunteers to join you.'
'You are welcome, all of you. Come into the house and meet the others.'
He nodded grimly at each of them as they went by, no touch of a smile loosening that tight-clamped
mouth. As Troy entered John Brown took him by the shoulder and said softly, 'You are joining in a holy
crusade to liberate your people.' Troy nodded and went on there was little he could answer to that.
The small rooms were crowded with men, twenty-four in all counting the newcomers. After introductions
had been made, Francis Meriam dived into his carpetbag and produced his wallet.
'This is for you, Mr Brown, for the cause you so nobly lead.'
He poured out the stream of gold and John Brown clasped his hands and lowered his head.
'We must thank the Lord,' he said. 'For bringing these men and for bringing this gold. This is a sign, an
unmistakable sign that it is His will that we move now.' He looked around at the silent men, the gaze from
his glaring eyes that of an avenging angel. 'The time has come to act, and we shall. On the Sabbath, the
Lord's day, we will fall on the ungodly. We strike. Tomorrow! God has honoured but a comparatively
very small part of mankind with any possible chance for such mighty and soul-satisfying rewards as shall
be ours. We will capture the armoury and our Negro brethren will rise in their mighty wrath and strike
down their captors. So shall it be.'
So shall it be, Troy thought. But how will it really be? If the soldiers were waiting in ambush this little
handful of foolhardy men would be massacred. Could he stop them? More important should he stop
them? Was it possible to change history, and if he did, what would the repercussions be? McCulloch was
trying to change history, to bring about the world that he wanted, to perpetuate slavery into the distant
future. No!
Perhaps John Brown's inspirational sermon was affecting him as well as the others. He could now
understand their emotional hatred of the institution of slavery, how they would do anything to see it
destroyed. They wanted to bring about the America that he knew, that he had grown up in. It wasn't
perfect, he knew that, knew also that no society or institution was. But, by God, it was infinitely better
than this slave state, part of a country that was half slave and half free. Being here, living here, he could
understand, not only understand but feel the causes of the dreadful war to come. No country could
possibly exist like this, divided against itself. Nor would it. The terrible conflict to come would decide
that. And unless he intervened the slave holders might win. The world that he had known might never
exist.
That could not be would not be! He had to make absolutely sure that never happened.
Yet, at the same time, he felt that he could not stand idly by while these good men committed suicide. He
owed it to them, to the cause they all believed in, to give them some warning. It might change a footnote
of history, but they deserved something better than being butchered outright.
At the earliest opportunity he sought John Brown out and drew him aside.
'Mr Brown, could I possibly talk to you for a few moments?'
'Of course, I am at your service. We can go into the kitchen, it will be quieter in there.'
They sat by the fire. John Brown looked into its depths, raised his hands to warm them there, seeing the
future perhaps. Seeing his rebellion triumphant. Troy looked too, seeking a way to give his warning that
did not betray the source of his knowledge.
'Do you know a Colonel McCulloch, from Richmond?'
'I know of him, though I have never met him. An evil man. I have been told that he killed one of his
slaves. May the good Lord in his wrath strike him down.'
'Amen to that. But I have positive information, through an organization I work for, that McCulloch has
discovered what you are planning to do. He may have laid a trap for you to fall into.'
'You are good to tell me this, but do not fear, for we walk in the protection of our Lord. Others have
tried to betray us, for the best of reasons as well as the worst, but have not succeeded. I know for a fact
that my good friend from Iowa, David J. Gue, has decided that we will all be killed if our plans go
through. Though he has now repented his act he did indeed send a letter of warning to the Secretary of
War. But this letter has been completely ignored. Now why should that be? Only one reason, my son.
We stand in the palm of the Lord and he does protect us. I thank you for this attempt to warn us of the
machinations of this man of evil. But he shall not prevail. The plans have been made, the troops
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Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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