Johnny reported to the State Militia armory and asked them to telegraph Washington to release his accumulated salary to a bank near where he stayed. A return message told him a draft would arrive at a nearby bank within a few days and he would receive confirmation by telegraph at the armory.
He returned to the hospital to have his wounds checked. An examination disclosed that the injuries had become inflamed and suppurated pus.
“You’re trying to do too much with these stitches still in your leg. We’ll have them cleaned again and rebandaged but you must give them a chance to heal before you go running around.”
“I understand, doc. I was just so happy to not have been shot in a more serious place.”
“Be careful for the next little while,” the doctor said. “Infection can kill you just as dead as a bullet through the heart. Come back in a few days, if the holes have closed sufficiently we’ll take the stitches out.”
The next day Johnny hobbled painfully the several blocks from his rooming house to the store on Broadway. The jade ring still sat in the same window display when he first saw it so many months before. A stone in a silver setting, it appeared flawless, shining a perfect green, the color of Deirdre’s eyes. When his bank draft arrived he returned to purchase it, his excitement mounted as he planned his next visit to Deirdre’s apartment to present her with the symbol of his love and promise to return to marry her. He found a tailor in a shop on Christie Street who agreed to make a new uniform for him. Stores of fabric for army uniforms had become available and a brisk business had sprung up for new enlistees who often wanted them tailored to fit and wear for photographs to give to families.
He made his next stop a barber shop where he had his hair trimmed to a respectable length and his face shaven clean for the first time in weeks. After he picked up his uniform with the two gold corporal stripes emblazoned on its sleeves he bought bootblack from a street vendor and polished his shoes to complete his new suit of military attire. A hot bath at his rooming house after which he applied a clean bandage to his wound, refreshed him.
Heads turned when he walked along Mulberry Street on the way to the tenement where Deirdre lived. His limp less pronounced since the wounds had begun to heal, Johnny strode head high with his precious gift carried in his trouser pocket.
Deirdre greeted him at the door and stood speechless for a moment. “Oh Johnny, how handsome you look.” They kissed briefly as he stepped across the threshold. Deirdre called out to her mother: “Mama, come look and see who’s at the door.”
Maggie put down her sewing and looked down the hallway. “Well, saints preserve us, now I really do believe ye are a soldier, all dressed in yer get-up – and stripes into the bargain.”
Deirdre led Johnny by the hand into the parlor. “I’m so proud of him, Mama.”
“Hello, Mrs Loughlin. May I have a word with Deirdre for a moment? We’ll let you in on the surprise in just a minute.”
“I’ll go put the tea on, you two have yer word.”
Johnny and Deirdre sat on the divan. He produced the small gift box from his pocket and handed it to her. When she opened it she emitted a shrill screech of pleasure. “Johnny, I can’t believe it. It’s so beautiful. Oh, thank you.”
With the sound of Deirdre’s voice Maggie stepped into the parlor.
“Mama, Mama, look what Johnny has just given me.” She displayed the ring on her left hand. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“I guess it’s official now,” Maggie said. “Ye two are to be married.” She examined the ring more closely “Yes, darlin’” she said to her daughter. “It is a smashin’ piece of jewelry.” She turned to Johnny, “It must have set you back every penny ye had in the world.”
“I had money saved from my salary, Mrs Loughlin. I’ve had my eye on this ring since I first saw it. It matches Deirdre’s eyes.”
Maggie looked at it again. “It does indeed. Well, good luck to both of ye. I suppose ye’ll wait until the war’s over to be married.”
“Yes, Mama, we’ll wait. There’s no time to plan all that now, Johnny has to go back to the army soon.”
Detectives Donellan and Philips ate together in one of the better taverns in Washington enjoying a meal of steak, potatoes and mugs of ale.
“Arthur,” Reggie Donellan said, “we have to plan how to find old man Barr. It just occurred to me, now that the excitement has died down, we don’t even know what this old goat looks like, let alone exactly where he is.”
“I think I know who would have an answer to the first question and perhaps even the second,” Philips said, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of rare sirloin.
“Are you thinking of his granddaughter? I don’t have any faith that she either knows or would be helpful if she did.”
Philips continued: “No, not the woman. I don’t think she’s reliable enough. But Johnny certainly knows what he looks like …”
“Right …” Donellan said. “Go on.”
“Secondly, there’s a possibility that he heard something while he was at that warehouse that might give us a clue as to Barr’s location,” Philips added.
“That would mean …” Donellan began.
“Yes, we might have to take him with us to Baltimore.”
“Oh, I don’t know if the army will be too prone to let him go again.” Donellan said.
“I wouldn’t even go through Washington or through Baker for this,” Philips went on. “My idea would be to go to his immediate commanding officer and borrow Johnny for a short time. Remember, his new assignment, the Military Information Command, has to do with winkling out rebel secrets. We could just tell them that Corporal Madigan is privy to the identity of a Confederate agent, which is in a sense, what Barr has become.”
“That seems somewhat risky, Arthur,” Donellan cautioned. “If anything were to happen to him …”
“My idea is to use him to identify Barr when we get to where the old thief might be. The boy will be in uniform so we can keep him under tight control. I don’t mean we should use him in any undercover role. In his present assignment that wouldn’t be possible.”
“I see your point, if we were to borrow him as a witness; I think that would make sense to the army,” Donellan said.
“First,” Philips said, “let’s go collect Madigan. We know where to find his unit. He should be there soon.”
Deirdre, with her mother and her brother accompanied Johnny to the Hudson River pier at the foot of Canal Street to await the ferry to Hoboken where he would board the southbound train. Aidan, finally convinced that Johnny actually served in the army, became more respectful toward him.
“I wish I was old enough to join the army,” he said.
Maggie huffed. “That’ll be enough of that talk, young man.”
Johnny smiled at Aidan. “It sounds glamorous, but it really isn’t.”
The ferry’s whistle heralded its arrival at the pier. It maneuvered to dock and people began to crowd forward to board when the incoming passengers debarked.
Deirdre clung to Johnny’s arm. “Please be careful, you have to come home so we can be married.”
“I’ll be fine,” Johnny said. “I’ll be in a different kind of unit. We’ll keep writing to each other. The war should be over soon and I should be home for good.”
He turned to Maggie. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Loughlin. I really appreciate your kindness.”
“Don’t mention it, youngster. We owe ye a debt for helpin’ get Deirdre out of that place.”
He spoke to Aidan: “Stay in school and help you mother. The army will still be there when you get old enough.”
They shook hands. Aidan said: “Good-bye, Johnny. See ya soon.”
Deirdre and Johnny exchanged a long embrace. Words failed them both and Deirdre brushed away a tear as they parted, this time with much more hope for the future than Johnny’s previous departures. Johnny waved to them from the gangplank and went aboard the ferry to begin his return to the army and his new assignment.
Early on a bitterly cold winter morning, Claudia Osborne, the Captain’s mother, had the coachman harness a horse to the family buggy and set out for her son’s headquarters. General George Sharpe’s Military Information Command had its encampment near the family home outside Fairfax Courthouse. She directed the elderly stableman to make all speed. Except that she believed in the importance of the news she had to bring, she would never have approached an army encampment. She told the sentry at the guard post that she bore an urgent message for Captain Roger Osborne.
“Wait here, Ma’am,” the soldier said. “I’ll try to send word to him. I’m afraid I can’t let you pass any further.”
“I’m the Captain’s mother. I believe it is of the most extreme importance that Captain Osborne be told what news I bring.”
The corporal of the guard dispatched another sentry on duty at the guard post to the Colonel’s tent to ask for Captain Osborne’s presence at the main camp entrance. “Say that a family member requests to speak to him.”
The corporal extended Mrs Osborne a courtesy and permitted her to dismount the buggy to wait in the guard tent out of the biting wind. Presently, Colonel Jerome Rathburn, General Sharpe’s adjutant, entered the guard tent.
He said: “Captain Osborne is away from here on assignment, Ma’am. May I take a message for him?”
“It’s dreadful I can’t speak with him personally,” she said. “When he returned from New York he brought a woman with him. He seemed to attach some importance to her being here.”
“Well, I’m sure he did, Ma’am,” the colonel said with a hint of impatience. “When he returns, I’ll be sure to inform him.”
“No, Colonel, you misapprehend me. Roger – that’s my son – Captain Osborne, thought that the woman held some significance beyond just the personal. I’ve come here today to tell him that two men came to our door last night and identified themselves as Federal agents. I had my doubts about their legitimacy as lawmen, but Miss Barr felt she had no choice but to go with them. They took the woman away with all her belongings. Roger – my son – did not expect that to happen. Somehow he believed that he brought her to remain here under his promise of protection from arrest. I’m sure he should be told.”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but just now we wouldn’t be able to get him a message of any kind; when he returns I’ll be sure to inform him,” the Colonel said.
“That is most unfortunate, Colonel. I don’t want to appear presumptuous, but may I suggest you investigate this matter?”
“Not presumptuous at all, Ma’am, I’m sure this message is of some importance. I will assign someone to look into it. When the Captain comes back I’ll let him know.”
“Well, I’ve done what I can. I’m not particularly fond of this woman, but for Roger’s sake – and since he attached so much importance to her – or whatever help she was supposed to provide …”
The Colonel took a piece of paper and pen. “What’s the woman’s name?”
“Her name is Barr, Letitia Barr.”
He made his notes. “Thank you for your bringing this to our attention, we’ll look into it.”
Mrs Osborne shrugged. “I’ve discharged my obligation to my son as regards this woman. Good day, Colonel.”
“Good day to you, Ma’am,” he said as he helped her into the buggy. When she had seated herself the driver propped the carriage blanket around her and they drove off.
When Johnny arrived at the camp of the Military Information Command to which his telegraphed orders had directed him, he used that cabled message as identification. The sentry pointed him in the direction of the Colonel Rathburn’s command tent. The sergeant major on duty there sent him to the Quartermaster to draw equipment and a sidearm and then to a squad tent he would use as his sleeping quarters. While carrying out these tasks, walking through the camp, Johnny took note of the web of telegraph wires which crisscrossed the sprawling military enclosure. Quick glimpses of men dressed in Confederate uniforms moving about furtively but unchallenged gave Johnny momentary pause. He chose not to question the activity, believing that someone would explain when and if he needed to know. Upon his return to the command post the sergeant major brought him to a large tent which functioned as the communications hub of General Sharpe’s headquarters. An elaborate telegraph system clacked noisily and several soldiers sat busily sending signals. Others transcribed incoming messages them as they poured in.
“Ever seen a telegraph machine before?” the sergeant major asked.
“I have once or twice, but I have no idea how they work,” Johnny answered, reluctant to disclose much of his recent background. “I do have a passing familiarity with ciphers and codes.”
“That’ll help you here. But first you’ll need to memorize the alphabet in Morse code.” The sergeant major brought Johnny to a table where a uniformed soldier focused his attention on the message he transmitted by taping the key in the rhythmic longs and shorts of Morse code.
“Sit with Private James here, listen and watch. Here’s a card with the dots and dashes and their corresponding letter of the alphabet. Each of the individual dahs and dits you hear, which are transmitted over wires by electric current, are long and short key touches, and when taken in combination represent a letter.”
Johnny watched the experienced telegrapher then in the process of accurately interpreting an incoming signal.
The sergeant major went on: “You see how the letters will then spell out words. The operator – Private James in this case – will transcribe and decode the signals and bring them to the lieutenant over there at the large desk. The messages are routed to a clerk-analyst for further refinement and distribution to the appropriate unit for whatever action is required.”
Johnny nodded, acknowledging the sergeant major’s instructions.
He cautioned: “I don’t have to tell you that whatever you see or hear around this place is highly secret and is not to be discussed anywhere else. Because the enemy has often tampered with our telegraph wires we only accept messages from sources we recognize.”
“I understand, Sar’n major. I’m sort of used to keeping secrets.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” the sergeant major said as he departed.
Johnny sat next to Private James who focused his attention just then on another incoming transmission, the letters of which he decoded using his cipher template. He jotted the message on lined paper and rushed it to the lieutenant’s desk for further transmittal.
After stopping at a court in Washington to obtain a Federal warrant for the arrest of Simeon Barr, followed by the long journey to Fairfax Courthouse, Detectives Donellan and Philips found their way to the camp of the Military Information Command. An overcast winter sky began to dust the landscape with a light snowfall. The corporal of the guard at the main sentry post challenged them as their carriage drove up to the heavily-secured barrier. Two sentries armed with bayoneted rifles barred the entrance.
“Gentlemen, state your business,” the corporal ordered.
The two detectives produced the warrant with their Federal identification.
“May we speak to your commanding officer, please? We’re here in an official government capacity.”
The corporal, under orders to admit no one but authorized military personnel, asked them to pull their carriage to one side, tether their horses and dismount the vehicle. He dispatched a sentry to the command tent and offered shelter in the guard tent to the two men until a superior officer could verify their authenticity. A telegraphed message to the headquarters of the National Detective Service confirmed the identity of the two operatives, whereupon a captain approached the guard post where the two detectives waited.
Donellan began: “There’s a corporal, newly arrived here, we’d like to speak with him. Until a short while ago he worked with us on cases. We’d like to borrow him again for a time. We believe he would be a witness in a case we’re working on.”
“What’s this soldier’s name?” the Captain asked.
“It’s Corporal John Madigan, he was recently assigned here when he left us,” Philips said.
“Yes,” the Captain said, “He’s with the sergeant major now getting familiarized with his duties. Do you have written authorization from Army Command to take this soldier?”
“No, we haven’t,” Philips answered. “Perhaps if you alert General Sharpe and tell him what we need, he will agree to confirm our requirements.”
“Remain here,” the Captain said, “I’ll have to consult with General Sharpe on this.”
After establishing the nature of the detectives’ purpose, the General sent the sergeant major to the tent where Johnny sat learning the techniques of telegraph communications.
“Corporal Madigan, you are wanted at the command tent,” the sergeant major ordered.
Johnny rose immediately and followed the non-commissioned officer to the sprawling command tent where General Sharpe presided at a staff meeting. The General interrupted his meeting when Johnny arrived at the camp headquarters.
Johnny stood at attention when General Sharpe pushed through the partition separating his meeting from the section of the huge tent where Johnny waited.
“Corporal Madigan, is that your name?”
“Yes, General,” Johnny said with a crisp salute.
“You’re newly assigned here, as I understand it.”
“Yes, General,” Johnny repeated.
“What was your previous assignment?”
“Sir, I was on detached duty with the National Detective Service for several months.”
“There are men at the main guard post asking to borrow you again. They claim to be Federal detectives.”
“Sir, they would be Philips and Donellan.”
“They claim to need you as a witness. Do you have any knowledge of this request?”
“No immediate knowledge, sir, but I expect it has to do with a case we worked on in New York City. They may need my testimony.”
“I have telegraphed General Baker’s headquarters, the return message confirms your former association with his Service,” the General said. “The sergeant major will accompany you to the guard post where these men are waiting. Identify them to the sergeant major. If you are satisfied they are who they claim to be, you may leave with them. Be advised, you are to remain in uniform at all times and will perform no other tasks other than that of witness for these detectives. Is all that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well, you’re dismissed. However, if your absence from this post will last longer than three days I want an explanation in writing from someone in authority with Baker’s staff.”
“Yes, sir,” Johnny said, saluted again, executed a smart about face and left with the sergeant major.
In the carriage seated between the two detectives Johnny asked: “What’s going on? Why do you need me again?”
Donellan said: “We have to locate Simeon Barr. We think he may be in Baltimore. We have no idea where he is or what he looks like except that he’s an old man.”
Philips chimed in: “When we find him we want to be sure we have the right man. You can help us. Did you hear anything at the warehouse that might give us a clue where to start looking?”
“The only thing I heard about Baltimore is a place called the Old Rosemont Plantation. But I must tell you, I’m under orders to remain in uniform and report back in three days,” Johnny cautioned.
“If you’re right about where Barr might be, we’ll find him,” Donellan said. “Don’t worry; we’ll try to get you back in time.”
“General Sharpe himself warned me to have telegraphed authorization sent if I’m delayed beyond that time.”
“We’ll take care of it, should the need arise,” Philips said. “Hopefully, this will be over quickly.”
After an overnight stay at a roadside inn on the way to Baltimore, the two detectives with Johnny in tow arrived at the outskirts of the city. A stop at the nearest railroad station and a conversation with the aging stationmaster disclosed that the Rosemont Plantation lay outside of town in the northern suburbs, a mile off the main highway. Not willing to attempt the capture of the fugitive at a location possibly guarded by armed men, Donellan and Philips made their way to the military detachment that patrolled the streets of Baltimore to prevent unrest among the populace, many of whom had pro-slavery sympathies. The colonel in command of the 8th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment requested the cavalry detachment serving with his regiment to detail a platoon of mounted soldiers to accompany the investigators.