Between Albany and Saratoga, New York
February 1864
John Lane shivered as he sat on the dirt floor of Viola’s barn. The blanket wrapped around his shoulders didn’t stop the shaking. It was more than the bitter cold that was making him shiver.
He read again the headlines of the Albany Argus, which Viola had fairly thrust into his hands the evening previous. After their return from delivering Michael and Sarah to the next stop on the underground railroad, Viola had driven the wagon into town to purchase more potatoes for Burgoyne’s army, now a half-day’s ride south of her farm, following McClellan’s retreat at a distance. The newspaper had caught her eye in the store.
The headlines screamed:
Treason in the Ranks!
Irish Soldiers in Diabolical Fenian Plot!
Join Rebel Army, Fire on our Boys!
Leaders Caught, to be Hung!
Woodcuts of O’Mahony and Meagher accompanied the story. Meagher was dressed in his uniform as colonel of the Irish Brigade, Napoleonic hand inserted in his tunic. Lane read the story again, sick to his stomach. Pinkerton’s men had arrested O’Mahony and Meagher without a struggle at O’Mahony’s office in New York City. While the headline announced that they’d be hung, the article quoted General Grant’s announcement that they would be shot as traitors. Grant also said that other leaders, including a one-armed Irish merchant, were still at large and would be hunted down and shot as well. Lane read no further.
The door to the barn opened and Viola entered, a tray of steaming food in hand. She placed the tray on the floor next to Lane and stood above him, hands on hips.
“You know you can’t stay here. I have too much at stake. My family and my, uh, work.”
Lane looked up, still shaking. “I have no place to go. I can’t go home to Boston. They’re looking for me. They’ll shoot me. Or worse.”
Viola looked angry but her voice was low and calm. “John, you knew what you were getting in to. Or you should have. I’ll pack some food for you. I think you have two options. You can head south and seek protection from the British Army. Or you can head north to Canada. But you have to leave here. The Union soldiers know we were, um, business partners. They’ll start looking for you here.”
Lane was trying to think clearly. The easiest thing to do was head south, find the British Army, and ask Burgoyne for protection. But there was no guarantee that he would help, and then what? Better to get away from the war altogether. Canada.
“Can I use your network, your railroad, to get to Canada?”
Now Viola sounded as angry as she looked. “You hatch a plot to support Southern independence and slavery, and now you want to jeopardize a network that helps people escape from slavery? You’ve some nerve!”
Lane stood, letting the blanket fall to the ground. “Please. They’ll shoot me. It’s my only chance.”
After a long silence, Viola said, “Eat that before it gets too cold. I’ll bring you some food to pack. You should leave as soon as it gets dark. You’ve got a long trip ahead of you.”