It wasn’t the fight I wanted, but it was better than getting kilt or staying out on the plains. He decided to send one of his men, Mr. Cook, ahead to Harpers Ferry to serve as a spy and to spread the word of his plan amongst the Negroes there. He announced it to his lieutenant Kagi one morning in July, when I was there serving them two breakfast in the Old Man’s cabin.
Kagi didn’t like the plan. “Cook is a chatterbox,” he said. “He’s a rooster. Plus he’s a ladies’ man. He’s sending letters to his various lady friends saying he’s on a secret mission and he’ll have to leave soon, and they’ll never see him again. He’s brandishing his gun in public and saying he killed five men in Kansas. He got ladies in Tabor fretting all over him, thinking he’s gonna die on a secret mission. He’ll crow our plan all over Virginia.”
The Old Man considered it. “He’s an irritant and he does have a long tongue,” he said, “but he’s a good talker and can scout the enemy and move about daily life there. Whatever he says about us ain’t gonna harm God’s plan for us, for no one is inclined to believe a blowhard like him anyway. I will advise him that he should use but his eyes and mouth in Virginia to our purpose and nothing more. He’d be a hindrance to us otherwise, for we have a bit more plundering to do to gather weapons and money and he don’t soldier well. We have to use everyone to their best. Cook’s best weapon against an enemy is his mouth.”
“If you want to hive the Negroes, why not send a Negro to Virginia with him?” Kagi said.
“I has considered sending Mr. Anderson,” the Old Man said, “but he’s nervous about the proposition overall, and may not toe the line. He may scatter.”
“I don’t mean him. I mean the Onion,” Kagi said. “She can pose as Cook’s slave. That way she can keep an eye on Cook, and help hive the bees. She’s old enough. And you can trust her.”
I was standing there when them two was pondering this, and I can’t say I was against the idea. I was anxious to get out of the west before the Old Man got his head blowed off. Iowa was rough living, and the U.S. Cavalry was hot on our trail. We’d had to move several times ’bout Pee Dee and Tabor to keep out of sight, and the thought of grinding over the prairie by wagon and stopping every ten minutes while the Old Man prayed, with federal dragoons riding down on us one way and Pro Slavers hunting us another, weren’t a notion that throwed a lot of sugar in my bowl. Also, I growed fond of the Captain, truth be told. I was partial to him. I’d rather he got killed or smashed up on his own time away from me and I would know he was dead later—much later would be soon enough. I knowed he was insane, and if he wanted to fight against slavery I was all for it. But I myself had no plans on doing a wink of the same. Traveling east to Virginia with Cook put me closer to the freedom line of Philadelphia, and slipping off from him would be easy, ’cause Cook never let his talking hole rest and didn’t look beyond his own self much. So I piped up to the Old Man and Mr. Kagi that it would be a great idea for me to go with Mr. Cook, and I would do my best to hive the Negroes while I was there waiting for the rest to come.
