Authors: Gilbert Morris
He spent some time reading his Testament and
praying—longer than usual, ending his prayer with the words, “Lord, Owen said the money was for a purpose. I ask you to use it to get this man out of prison and save his life.”
He got up, dressed rapidly, and left the room, carrying half the greenbacks in his pocket. The rest was still stowed away in the knapsack in the room, where he felt sure it would be safe until he could return.
The pass he had from headquarters got him into the prison without any problems, and he asked the guard, “Where’ll I find the infirmary?”
“Third floor.”
He climbed the stairs and asked another guard, who directed him to the double doors marked INFIRMARY.
The sharp-featured man at the desk looked up, startled.
“Like to see Mr. LeCompt,” Thad requested.
“About what?”
“Guess I’ll tell him that,” Thad answered, giving the man a steady look.
Reluctantly the orderly got up and disappeared behind the inner door. “There’s an officer to see you, LeCompt,” he said. “He won’t say what he wants.”
LeCompt raised his eyes from where he was changing a patient’s dressing. “That’s good,” he said and waited until the man hobbled out on a pair of crutches. “Is he some kind of inspector?”
“He won’t tell me nothing.”
“Well—send him in. Hold the other patients until he comes out.”
When the orderly left, LeCompt sat down at the small desk, wondering what would bring an officer to
his
little kingdom. He was not worried, for he was so underpaid that he could not be easily replaced. He was surprised, however, when the door opened and a lieutenant entered. He was very young, which meant he was not high on the medical staff.
“I’m Lieutenant Thad Novak, Third Virginia Infantry.”
LeCompt leaned back and eyed him, saying curtly, “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
Thad had gone over this scene many times, uncertain as to the right approach. He had finally concluded that it would be best to be straightforward.
“One of the prisoners here is a friend of mine,” he said. “I want to help him.”
“How did you get to be friends with a Yankee officer?” he asked, curious.
“I’ve known his family a long time. We both come from the same state—New York.”
LeCompt’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re from New York? That’s unusual.” He shrugged and added, “There’s not much I can do. Of course, better food and care is available, but it’ll cost a little money.”
“I’m not interested in a little help, Dr. LeCompt,” Thad replied, fully aware the man was no doctor. “My friend is in bad shape.”
“What’s his name?”
“Davis Winslow.”
“
Winslow?
” The name jarred him. “Well, you’re right about him. He’s in terrible condition—though I’ve done the best I can,” he added defensively. “This is an impossible job here, Lieutenant. The food is terrible, and they keep shoving new prisoners into an already overcrowded condition.”
Thad nodded and pulled out the leather case. When he removed ten of the bills and saw LeCompt’s eyes devour the money, he plunged in. “I’ve got a thousand dollars in green-backs here, LeCompt,” he said evenly. “I’d spend every dime of it to help Winslow make it.”
The man’s eyes fastened on the bills like a leech. He seemed hypnotized, unable to speak. Finally raising his face to Thad, he said in a husky voice, “Why, I think I can do something, Lieutenant. We have a small hospital here, and I—”
“That’s no good,” Thad interrupted. “He’ll die if he doesn’t get to a
real
hospital.”
“I can do only so much, Lieutenant,” LeCompt argued. “With that much money I can buy some drugs and make sure he gets proper care.”
Thad paused, then pulled out another sheaf of bills. He had divided them into three packets for just this occasion. “Here’s another thousand dollars—in U.S. greenbacks.” He added them to the other bills, fanning the money out so it covered the top of LeCompt’s desk. “Now,” he said, “I’ll pay two thousand to get him out.”
“
Escape?
” LeCompt whispered, and looked at the door. “You’re crazy!”
Thad stared at him, saying, “I may be, Doctor, but I’m the richest crazy man you’ve seen lately. How many chances do you have to make all that money for one day’s work?”
LeCompt jumped to his feet and started for the door. “I’ll have to ask you to wait here, Novak. The warden would like to talk with you, I’m sure.”
He reached the door, expecting Thad to stop him, but when he heard no protest, LeCompt turned back to see the officer grinning.
“Go get him, LeCompt,” Thad challenged.
The man hesitated, then said angrily, “What kind of a fool do you take me for? You’re obviously here to trap me!”
“You really believe they’re thinking a lot about that?” Thad asked. “How many bribes have been taken here at Libby? Just petty stuff, I’d guess. You’re not important enough to tempt.”
“In that, you’re right,” he replied bitterly.
Thad took advantage of the man’s admission and said quickly, “I’ll lay it all out for you, LeCompt. I’ve been talking to a couple of Winslow’s friends—Hale and Lee—and they tell me you want to get out of this place to become a
real
doctor.”
“I never said that!”
Thad ignored his statement, and indicated the money. “There’s your chance. You can shake off the stench of this place, go north and become a doctor.”
“Impossible!”
“Don’t you know about Winslow’s family? He’s the last son, and his father’s a rich man—a congressman. His grand-father’s well off—a retired naval hero. They can get you into any medical school in the country with a single word!”
“That may be—but there’s no way it can be done. Nobody can steal a prisoner from here.”
Thad noticed that the argument had shifted, that LeCompt was not arguing about the
way
but the
means.
He leaned forward. “If I show you a way to do it—will you do it?”
“I tell you, it’s impossible!”
“Guess you don’t want to get out of here and be a doctor as bad as Hale thought.” Thad reached down and scooped up the money.
“Wait!” LeCompt put his hand out, and licked his lips. “I’d do anything to get out of here—but there’s just no way to get a prisoner out.”
Thad lowered his voice to a whisper. “No way to get a
living
prisoner out, maybe—but dead ones go out all the time, don’t they?”
LeCompt’s eyes bulged in surprise. “Yes, they do,” he admitted.
“That’s the way Winslow goes out—in a coffin.”
Again LeCompt looked at the money and shook his head. “I see what you’re getting at—but I can’t risk it.”
Thad played his last card. He pulled the remaining sheaf of bills from the leather case. “My last offer, LeCompt—five hundred more. All I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”
He added the money to the cash on the table and watched LeCompt’s face.
He’s too much of a coward to do it,
he thought.
LeCompt sat there weighing the odds—the dangers versus the opportunity of leaving Libby, studying in clean classrooms, being called “Doctor.”
Time seemed to crawl. Finally LeCompt spoke. “It’ll have to be soon. He might die any time.” He was a brilliant man
in his own way and had already formulated a plan. “This is what you must tell Hale and Lee to do . . .”
Thad left the office twenty minutes later. Half the bribe money was in LeCompt’s pocket, the rest to be handed over at the last minute of escape. Thad stalked down the hall, going immediately to the cell where the three were kept.
Scanning the cell as he entered, he saw the other prisoners were in the outer room.
“He’s better today, Novak,” Hale told Thad as he approached. Then he turned and said, “Davis, the lieutenant is here.”
Novak squatted down so he could see the sick man’s face. The eyes were clear. “Good to see you feeling better,” Thad said.
Davis focused his eyes on him a moment, then asked in a thin voice, “My grandfather sent you?”
“That’s right. I’m the one your brother saved from a firing squad.”
“I—remember.” Davis licked his lips. “If you see my grandfather, tell him I appreciate what he did.”
Thad smiled faintly, lowering his voice. “You can tell him yourself, Winslow.”
Davis shook his head. “I won’t make it. Too far gone.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow.” When Winslow stared at him without comprehension, Thad said, “It’s all set up.”
“You got him transferred?” Hale frowned. “I told you another prison wouldn’t be any good.”
Thad turned to face the pair, studied them carefully, then murmured softly, “You two are leaving with him. That’s the only way we can pull it off.”
“That’s crazy!” Lee said, trying to keep his voice down.
“Just what LeCompt said,” Thad grinned. “Now, listen to me, because we get only one shot.”
For over an hour, they rehearsed their part of the escape plan, and by the time the Confederate lieutenant rose to go there was hope in their eyes. Leaning close to Davis’s ear
Thad whispered, “Next time I see you, you’ll be a free man!” He rose and quickly left the cell.
Stunned silence enveloped the three. Finally Davis murmured, “It doesn’t matter so much about me—but I thank God that you fellows are getting out.”
Hale shook his head. He was Presbyterian, and there was a stubborn look on his face as he gazed at the other two. “This is no accident,” he announced firmly. “God is in it.”
“Amen!” Ezra added fervently.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A NEW PATIENT
A single candle flickered in the cell, emitting a pale light that did little to break the darkness. Some of the prisoners had gone to the larger outer hall to play cards, where a few lamps burned—lamps that were always turned off by the guards at ten.
Hale forced himself to wait until he heard the guards come down the hall, enter and peer about with the aid of a lantern, then leave. That meant it was about midnight; the next cell check would not come for two hours. He steeled himself to lie still for another thirty minutes, listening to the groans of the men and going over the plan in his mind.
“Perry—you reckon it’s about time?” Lee whispered, sitting up.
Hale’s shadow was outlined against the wall where he hunched. “I think so. See if Davis is awake.”
“I’m awake,” Davis acknowledged.
Perry rose up cautiously, and Lee did likewise. “All right, let’s do it,” Hale said. “Davis, keep your eyes shut, and try to hold your breath when the guards challenge us.”
“All right.”
“Here we go.” The two men moved toward Davis, picked him up, and moved away from their beds. There was so little room that it was impossible to keep from brushing against the limbs of other prisoners, and more than once one of them grunted. Lee bumped one man’s arm so hard, the man sat up, growling, “What’s going on?”
“Davis—he’s real bad,” Lee whispered. “We’re takin’ him to the infirmary.”
The man sighed, lay down, and they made it to the door. In the hall outside, a guard was sitting beside a table. He was reading a book by the light of a lantern, and as they moved down the hall, he jerked his head toward them. Snatching up his rifle, he demanded, “Who’s there?”
“Hale and Lee,” Perry answered. “We’ve got Winslow with us. He’s dying, I reckon.”
“Come closer,” the guard commanded.
When they were even with the light, the man bent forward, staring at Winslow’s face. Davis was completely limp, his head bobbing as they moved, his mouth open. “Well—take him on then.”
They continued down the hall as the guard went back to his book. The men reached the stairs and began to climb. They rested on the second floor, then moved to the third. Another guard challenged them as they moved toward the infirmary. “Who is it?”
“Hale and Lee. We got a man bad off.”
“LeCompt won’t be on duty till eight. You know that.”
“He looked at this one yesterday,” Hale told him. “Said to bring him in if he looked like he was going.” Then he paused and added, “I think he’s scared it’s cholera.”
The guard took a step backward, for the very threat of the dread disease brought a surge of fear. “All right. Stay here. I’ll see if he’ll look at him.”
He walked down the hall and entered the room used for a hospital. LeCompt had a small room wedged in between that and the infirmary. The guard knocked on the door, paused, then knocked again. Finally LeCompt opened it a crack, his hair wild and his eyes half shut.
“What do you want? I just got to sleep.”
“Couple of prisoners, LeCompt. They’ve got the man who may have cholera.”
LeCompt seemed to come awake. “Have them bring him into the infirmary.”
The guard returned to where Hale and Lee stood waiting with Davis in their arms. “Take him into the infirmary,” he said, keeping well back as they passed. He didn’t even offer to open the door as they entered. “It better not be cholera!” he muttered angrily, taking up his station at the door.
LeCompt came into the infirmary immediately and said hastily, “Bring him over here—on the table.” He unlocked a cabinet, pulled out a bottle and poured a glass half full of fluid. He brought it over and handed it to Davis, saying, “Drink this—all of it.”
“What is it?” Hale asked.
“Laudanum!” LeCompt snapped. “Just do what I tell you.” When Davis hesitated, he urged, “Drink it! It’ll put you out. You’re supposed to be dead, so I don’t want you making any noise inside that coffin.”
Davis gulped it down. Almost at once the powerful drug began to work. He grew dizzy and felt a roaring in his ears. “Perry,” he whispered.
“What is it?”
“If this doesn’t work, I want you to know—how much—I appreciate you—and you, too—Ezra. It’s—it’s . . .”
He slumped back, and LeCompt said, “He’ll be out for hours.” He stared at the door. “I hope this works.”
“Just get us out of this place, and you’re free,” Hale told him. “What’s next?”
“There’s a stretcher in the supply room—through that door,” he said. “Go get it.” Lee moved to get it, and LeCompt opened a cabinet and pulled out a paper sack. He put his coat on, saying, “Put this sack under him somewhere.”
When they had arranged Davis’s limp body on the canvas stretcher, LeCompt said crisply, “I’ve got to get a burial permit from the warden. You wait here.”