I truly wonder how many parts it will take to finnish this thing on Belle Boyd. It is long.
...The spy rode out with the captain, and Keily talked freely. To him, as she said wryly, she was "indebted for some very remarkable effusions, some withered flowers, and last, not least, for a great deal of very important information. . . ." Belle gathered that a major Federal drive would soon be mounted, and her aunt’s hotel was a rare observation point. One night in mid May she learned that a war council was about to be held in the hotel parlor. Directly above was a bedroom with a closet, and, as Belle had once noticed, the closet floor had a small knothole. Perhaps the energetic spy enlarged it a bit for her purposes. When the men gathered, she lay down in the closet and put her ear to the opening. For hours she stayed there, motionless, cramped, catching every murmur as the men, sitting over cigars and maps, argued strategy. Belles mind filled with names, figures, placement of scattered armies. There was much she did not understand, so she memorized most of it. The meeting ended about one in the morning, and, after waiting for the halls to clear, Belle scurried to her cottage and wrote out a cipher message. She had to leave with it at once. To wake a servant was too great a risk, so she saddled her horse and led him softly away. A few minutes later she was galloping toward the mountains. In her pocket she had a pass left her by a paroled Confederate. A sentry stopped her, and as she thrust it into his hands she talked nervously of sickness in the family, her need for haste. He let her by. She had to rein in and chatter out her story to another guard, and he nodded. With that she sped across fields, along marshes, past cabins. Fifteen miles away was a house where she had been told she could send an emergency message to Colonel Ashby, Jacksons head spy. At last, breathless, she jumped from her horse and hammered at the door of the dark building. A suspicious voice demanded who she was. After she gave her name, the friend opened the door and gaped at her: "My dear, where'd you come from?" Belle ignored his questions as male irrelevance, and asked her own. Where was Ashby? How soon could she reach him? Told that his party was quartered up the road, she started to turn, when another door opened, and Ashby himself frowned at her. "Good God! Miss Belle, is that you?" The girl told all she knew and left hurriedly, for she had to get back home before dawn. She was nearly there when a drowsy sentry, waking just as she rode by fired after her. But she was lying exhausted in her own bed by the time General Shieldss forces rolled out of Martinsburg. The next ten days or so would see vigorous action, she felt sure. Rumors arrived soon of Federal movements at Winchester. Feeling the need to be "on the go" once more, Belle asked for a pass. The provost marshal was suspicious, and put her off with one excuse after another. He sometimes left on short absences, however, and she waited until he rode out of town. Then Belle applied prettily to a young cavalry lieutenant in the provosts office. She, a girl cousin, and her maid were anxious to make the trip, and surely he wouldn't object. The lieutenant hesitated, and Belle moved closer. . . . Well, he had to go thereabouts himself, Miss Belle, and hed just ride along. Though she had not expected quite that arrangement, she took full advantage of it. For the young Union officer the trip was a gay adventure. He escorted the girls through the lines and they stayed briefly at Winchester. There, unexpectedly or perhaps not so unexpectedly, a new opportunity opened to the alert Miss Boyd. A "gentleman of high social standing" found her and murmured an anxious message: He had several papers that should go to General Jackson or one of his subordinates. He shoved them into Belles hands. They all dealt with the impending clash between Confederate and Northern forces and were of varying importance. The first packet she examined was vital, and Belle slipped it to her maid, reasoning that the Federals would probably not search a Negro. A paper of less import the girl dropped casually in a small basket; another of the same sort she gave the bemused lieutenant to hold. A final document, of great significance, she held in her own hand. The blithe party started back. They did not get far, for they had just reached Winchesters outskirts when a pair of detectives flagged them down. They were all under arrest. At headquarters the colonel in charge asked a direct question: was Miss Boyd carrying any disloyal messages? The lieutenant was flustered. Belle knew that the less important packet in her basket would quickly be found, so she promptly passed it to the colonel. In her hand she still held the most vital of the papers. "What’s that?" the colonel demanded. Belle employed elementary psychology. "This scrap? Nothing. You can have it." She moved forward as if to give the note to him; had he reached out, she said later, she would have swallowed it. Instead, the colonel turned his attention to the lieutenant. From his pocket that luckless man fished Belles paper, and caught the brunt of the older mans rage. What did this mean--carrying messages for the secesh! Didn't the unwitting fool know. . .? To the girls regret, the lieutenant stayed under arrest. Belle herself, according to a newspaper of a few days later, "with her usual adroitness and assumed innocence, got clear of the charges of treachery." She had not only kept the essential note in her hand, but also the valuable one in her maids possession!
More shall come...
Someday...
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Belle Boyd, part 4
I deeply apologize for being lazy. I have been recovering from an illness, and once I was better, I was too busy catching up on all the other things I had missed while sick. But anyway, here is another part about Belle Boyd.
...Belle explains, however, that she had begun to experiment in espionage. Whatever she learned, she "regularly and carefully committed to paper" and sent to her beloved Stonewall Jackson or to Jeb Stuart. Soon her first mistake tripped her. A true novice, she had no cipher and made no effort to disguise her handwriting. One of her notes reached Union headquarters, and the colonel in command summoned her. Reading the articles of war, he asked sternly if Miss Belle knew she could be sentenced to death? Belle declined to be frightened. She made a full curtsy, and her eyes swept over the officers in the room. "Thank you, gentlemen of the jury," she murmured in irony, and swirled out. But she had to be more careful, and for a time she used as helper an old Negro, who carried messages in a big watch from which the insides had been removed. A certain Sophie B. also assisted her. Lacking Belles superlative horsemanship, Sophie once had to walk seven miles each way to Jacksons camp. In her memoirs of these salad days of her spying, Belle gives only a few details, but reveals something of her inspiration. One day she heard of the exploit of Rose Greenhows famous helper, Betty Duvall, with her market girls disguise and the dispatch hidden in her black locks. Spy inspired spy, and Belle sought out Colonel Turner Ashby, Jacksons sharp-faced cavalry leader, head of military scouts in the Shenandoah Valley. Ashby was no mean spy himself when he put on civilian clothes and rode around Union camps in the role of a dreary veterinarian. For days Ashby would treat ailing horses, then jog back to his own lines with all he needed to know about the enemy. From him Belle received several assignments as courier for the Confederate forces. She learned the use of a cipher, and in the shifting battle areas she frequently carried messages on brief runs, pounding through back country and over short cuts on her horse. Her tomboy days were paying off. Restless as ever, she worked in one town after another, until she heard in late March of 1862 that fighting was on again at Martinsburg. Her place was there, she felt, but as she passed through nearby Winchester an enemy tipped off Union authorities. At the railroad station, officers begged Belles pardon--and arrested her. She would have to go all the way to Baltimore with them. The experience might have been terrifying to the girl, but, while friends watched glumly, Belle adjusted a bright new beribboned hat and assured them that nothing was going to happen to her! They’d see. They did. Her prison in Baltimore was a comfortable hotel, where she held court and chuckled at, then with her captors. A week passed pleasantly as officials puzzled over what to do about her. General Dix, who had presided at the Greenhow hearing, found no specific evidence, and let her leave with a fatherly warning. With another deep bow and a raised eyebrow, the junior spy swished out. After this adventure she rejoined her family at Front Royal, forty miles south of Martinsburg, where Belle’s aunt and uncle had a small hotel. To her surprise, Union forces had taken over the building and the remaining members of her family had moved to a cramped cottage. Such restriction made Belle’s Confederate heart sink. She knew precisely where she wanted to be--in Richmond, the heart of everything that interested her. As Belle understood life, the way to get a thing was to ask for it, especially if the one to be asked were a man. So she sought out the commander, General James Shields. The good-humored Irishman beamed at the bold, pretty girl. Ah, he clicked his tongue, if he gave Miss Belle the pass she wished, she would have to go through General Jacksons lines. Shields shook his head in mock regret; those Confederates had been so demoralized that he dared not trust Miss Belle to their mercies. Then with a twinkle he added that in a few days Jackson s men would all be wiped out, and she could go through! So assured was the Union officer, Belle said in her memoirs, that he forgot "a woman can sometimes listen and remember." Sensing a chance for a real exploit, she changed her plans in a second. She would stay right here. When she twinkled back at Shields, he grew expansive and introduced her to his staff. A younger, handsomer Irishman seemed definitely worthy of cultivation and quickly Belle let Captain Keily think he was cultivating her.
Someday, more will come...
...Belle explains, however, that she had begun to experiment in espionage. Whatever she learned, she "regularly and carefully committed to paper" and sent to her beloved Stonewall Jackson or to Jeb Stuart. Soon her first mistake tripped her. A true novice, she had no cipher and made no effort to disguise her handwriting. One of her notes reached Union headquarters, and the colonel in command summoned her. Reading the articles of war, he asked sternly if Miss Belle knew she could be sentenced to death? Belle declined to be frightened. She made a full curtsy, and her eyes swept over the officers in the room. "Thank you, gentlemen of the jury," she murmured in irony, and swirled out. But she had to be more careful, and for a time she used as helper an old Negro, who carried messages in a big watch from which the insides had been removed. A certain Sophie B. also assisted her. Lacking Belles superlative horsemanship, Sophie once had to walk seven miles each way to Jacksons camp. In her memoirs of these salad days of her spying, Belle gives only a few details, but reveals something of her inspiration. One day she heard of the exploit of Rose Greenhows famous helper, Betty Duvall, with her market girls disguise and the dispatch hidden in her black locks. Spy inspired spy, and Belle sought out Colonel Turner Ashby, Jacksons sharp-faced cavalry leader, head of military scouts in the Shenandoah Valley. Ashby was no mean spy himself when he put on civilian clothes and rode around Union camps in the role of a dreary veterinarian. For days Ashby would treat ailing horses, then jog back to his own lines with all he needed to know about the enemy. From him Belle received several assignments as courier for the Confederate forces. She learned the use of a cipher, and in the shifting battle areas she frequently carried messages on brief runs, pounding through back country and over short cuts on her horse. Her tomboy days were paying off. Restless as ever, she worked in one town after another, until she heard in late March of 1862 that fighting was on again at Martinsburg. Her place was there, she felt, but as she passed through nearby Winchester an enemy tipped off Union authorities. At the railroad station, officers begged Belles pardon--and arrested her. She would have to go all the way to Baltimore with them. The experience might have been terrifying to the girl, but, while friends watched glumly, Belle adjusted a bright new beribboned hat and assured them that nothing was going to happen to her! They’d see. They did. Her prison in Baltimore was a comfortable hotel, where she held court and chuckled at, then with her captors. A week passed pleasantly as officials puzzled over what to do about her. General Dix, who had presided at the Greenhow hearing, found no specific evidence, and let her leave with a fatherly warning. With another deep bow and a raised eyebrow, the junior spy swished out. After this adventure she rejoined her family at Front Royal, forty miles south of Martinsburg, where Belle’s aunt and uncle had a small hotel. To her surprise, Union forces had taken over the building and the remaining members of her family had moved to a cramped cottage. Such restriction made Belle’s Confederate heart sink. She knew precisely where she wanted to be--in Richmond, the heart of everything that interested her. As Belle understood life, the way to get a thing was to ask for it, especially if the one to be asked were a man. So she sought out the commander, General James Shields. The good-humored Irishman beamed at the bold, pretty girl. Ah, he clicked his tongue, if he gave Miss Belle the pass she wished, she would have to go through General Jacksons lines. Shields shook his head in mock regret; those Confederates had been so demoralized that he dared not trust Miss Belle to their mercies. Then with a twinkle he added that in a few days Jackson s men would all be wiped out, and she could go through! So assured was the Union officer, Belle said in her memoirs, that he forgot "a woman can sometimes listen and remember." Sensing a chance for a real exploit, she changed her plans in a second. She would stay right here. When she twinkled back at Shields, he grew expansive and introduced her to his staff. A younger, handsomer Irishman seemed definitely worthy of cultivation and quickly Belle let Captain Keily think he was cultivating her.
Someday, more will come...
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Two lady outlaws
Sorry y'all. I just got rather lazy and decided to skip Belle Boyd for today. But you should be happy I even posted something, I am still sick, and have been staying away from the computer ever since I came down with this dreaded disease while working on here. Anyhow, here is a bit about:
Cattle Annie and Little Britches
Annie McDougal and Jennie Metcalf were just teenagers, only sixteen and seventeen in 1874, when they met members of the Doolin gang. The Doolin Gang, often associated with the Daltons, robbed banks, stages, and trains. They were a bloodthirsty gang who often murdered innocent bystanders.
The two teenage girls appeared to have been charmed by the outlaws and the lives they led. While the gang had a hideout in Indian territory in Oklahoma, the girls began to serve as message carriers and lookouts for the gang. They would warn Doolin and the gang if anyone was approaching their hideout by firing a rifle shot into the air. The girls went by the nicknames of Cattle Annie and Little Britches.
Jennie was called Little Britches because of her habit of wearing pants far too big for her slender frame. She was born Jennie Stevens in Missouri in 1879. She had a sister and possibly more siblings. Her family was poor, but honest. In around 1887 the family moved to Seneca on the outer edges of Indian Territory, where Jennie's outlaw activities began.
When she was barely fifteen, Jennie donned men's clothes and went out to seek adventure. She got lost and when she returned home received a thrashing from her father. By the time she was sixteen, she had two failed marriages behind her. She met Annie at a dance, and the two girls formed a close friendship. They later met up with members of the Doolin gang and started working for them.
Annie was born in Kansas and had several siblings. By differing accounts, her father was either a lawyer turned preacher or poor and uneducated. Whatever he was, he was not an outlaw. Annie did domestic work to help out. The family moved to the Cherokee Nation, which is where she began her venture into crime.
Annie attended the dance where she met Jennie with a boyfriend and there she became introduced to and fell madly in love with George "Red Buck" Waightman, a member of the Doolin gang. Cattle Annie got her name when she became suspected of rustling the neighbor's cattle.
Both girls were poor, uneducated, and no doubt felt flattered by the attention of the outlaws and gladly served as lookouts for them. The two girl bandits were crack shots and managed to evade the law at every turn. Eventually, though, their misdeeds caught up with them and the girls were arrested for rustling cattle and bootlegging whiskey to the Indians.
The two young girl bandits were caught in Pawnee, Oklahoma. Cattle Annie was caught right away, but Little Britches gave them a run for their money. The girls, convicted and sentenced to five yers, were sent to prison in Boston. The girls, who had never been out of Oklahoma, found the trip East exciting. Once there, they became celebrities, known as the Oklahoma Girl Bandits. Both were released from prison several years early for good behavior, and retired from their lives of crime. Annie settled down and married. Jennie moved to New York and died of tuberculosis shortly after.
Because of the brief duration of their crimes and because they reformed shortly after, their exploits have often been passed over in favor of more colorful outlaws. But for the two short years this pair of tough girls rode the outlaw trail, they gave lawmen a world of trouble.
Cattle Annie and Little Britches
Annie McDougal and Jennie Metcalf were just teenagers, only sixteen and seventeen in 1874, when they met members of the Doolin gang. The Doolin Gang, often associated with the Daltons, robbed banks, stages, and trains. They were a bloodthirsty gang who often murdered innocent bystanders.
The two teenage girls appeared to have been charmed by the outlaws and the lives they led. While the gang had a hideout in Indian territory in Oklahoma, the girls began to serve as message carriers and lookouts for the gang. They would warn Doolin and the gang if anyone was approaching their hideout by firing a rifle shot into the air. The girls went by the nicknames of Cattle Annie and Little Britches.
Jennie was called Little Britches because of her habit of wearing pants far too big for her slender frame. She was born Jennie Stevens in Missouri in 1879. She had a sister and possibly more siblings. Her family was poor, but honest. In around 1887 the family moved to Seneca on the outer edges of Indian Territory, where Jennie's outlaw activities began.
When she was barely fifteen, Jennie donned men's clothes and went out to seek adventure. She got lost and when she returned home received a thrashing from her father. By the time she was sixteen, she had two failed marriages behind her. She met Annie at a dance, and the two girls formed a close friendship. They later met up with members of the Doolin gang and started working for them.
Annie was born in Kansas and had several siblings. By differing accounts, her father was either a lawyer turned preacher or poor and uneducated. Whatever he was, he was not an outlaw. Annie did domestic work to help out. The family moved to the Cherokee Nation, which is where she began her venture into crime.
Annie attended the dance where she met Jennie with a boyfriend and there she became introduced to and fell madly in love with George "Red Buck" Waightman, a member of the Doolin gang. Cattle Annie got her name when she became suspected of rustling the neighbor's cattle.
Both girls were poor, uneducated, and no doubt felt flattered by the attention of the outlaws and gladly served as lookouts for them. The two girl bandits were crack shots and managed to evade the law at every turn. Eventually, though, their misdeeds caught up with them and the girls were arrested for rustling cattle and bootlegging whiskey to the Indians.
The two young girl bandits were caught in Pawnee, Oklahoma. Cattle Annie was caught right away, but Little Britches gave them a run for their money. The girls, convicted and sentenced to five yers, were sent to prison in Boston. The girls, who had never been out of Oklahoma, found the trip East exciting. Once there, they became celebrities, known as the Oklahoma Girl Bandits. Both were released from prison several years early for good behavior, and retired from their lives of crime. Annie settled down and married. Jennie moved to New York and died of tuberculosis shortly after.
Because of the brief duration of their crimes and because they reformed shortly after, their exploits have often been passed over in favor of more colorful outlaws. But for the two short years this pair of tough girls rode the outlaw trail, they gave lawmen a world of trouble.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Belle Boyd, Part 3
At last! Another post! I suppose I must continue with Belle Boyd, even though there is only two people who actually go on here, but, whatever.
...She had already met the commander, old "Stonewall," for whom she acquired an admiration that approached, then exceeded worship. To her, General Jackson, the bearded, reticent genius, was "that undaunted hero, that true apostle of Freedom."Belle promptly went to the hospitals to help the wounded, and she was there when a triumphant Union officer entered. Waving a flag over the soldiers beds, he referred to them as "damned rebels." Belle snapped at him, commenting scornfully on the bravery of a man who insulted men when they were "as helpless as babies." The Federal soldier was taken by surprise. "And pray, who may you be, Miss?"Belle glared, and her maid spoke up for her: "A rebel lady." "A d- independent one, at all events," remarked the Northerner as he left the hospital. The next day Belle had what she termed her "first adventure," when she killed herself a Yankee soldier, in a highly controversial incident. Half the town of Martinsburg knew that the forthright Belle kept Confederate flags all over the walls of her room, and word of this reached the Union forces, who were planning a great July Fourth celebration. While the Boyds stayed at home, the men in blue drank heavily, smashed windows at random, and broke into houses to hunt for Southern souvenirs. One party staggered into the Boyd place, tore down pictures, and stamped toward Belle’s room. "Wheres the secesh flags?" they demanded. As Belle and her mother stood tight-lipped, the maid slipped out and removed the flags. The thwarted Northerners then announced that they would make sure the d- family looked loyal, anyway, and one pulled out a big American flag and started to climb to the roof to hoist it. For once Belle’s mother lost her meekness and called out: "Men, every member of this household will die before that flag is raised over us." The soldier cursed and pushed Mrs. Boyd aside. According to Belle, "I could stand it no longer; my indignation was aroused beyond control. . . . I drew out my pistol and shot him." A near riot followed, with Union soldiers firing shots at the house and threatening to burn it down. Then guards arrived. The Confederates considered Belle's act one of simple justice. The Union commanding officer hurried up to investigate, held a hearing--and exactly nothing more happened. Belle put aside her gun and employed tears and smiles. The result was that a guard was posted at the house to make sure no further incidents occurred, and "Federal officers called every day to inquire if we had any complaint"! Belle recalled that in this way she first became "acquainted with so many of them." Before long she had set a good many teeth on edge by fraternizing with the enemy, which astonished and horrified conservative Martinsburg.
To be continued...
Eventually...
...She had already met the commander, old "Stonewall," for whom she acquired an admiration that approached, then exceeded worship. To her, General Jackson, the bearded, reticent genius, was "that undaunted hero, that true apostle of Freedom."Belle promptly went to the hospitals to help the wounded, and she was there when a triumphant Union officer entered. Waving a flag over the soldiers beds, he referred to them as "damned rebels." Belle snapped at him, commenting scornfully on the bravery of a man who insulted men when they were "as helpless as babies." The Federal soldier was taken by surprise. "And pray, who may you be, Miss?"Belle glared, and her maid spoke up for her: "A rebel lady." "A d- independent one, at all events," remarked the Northerner as he left the hospital. The next day Belle had what she termed her "first adventure," when she killed herself a Yankee soldier, in a highly controversial incident. Half the town of Martinsburg knew that the forthright Belle kept Confederate flags all over the walls of her room, and word of this reached the Union forces, who were planning a great July Fourth celebration. While the Boyds stayed at home, the men in blue drank heavily, smashed windows at random, and broke into houses to hunt for Southern souvenirs. One party staggered into the Boyd place, tore down pictures, and stamped toward Belle’s room. "Wheres the secesh flags?" they demanded. As Belle and her mother stood tight-lipped, the maid slipped out and removed the flags. The thwarted Northerners then announced that they would make sure the d- family looked loyal, anyway, and one pulled out a big American flag and started to climb to the roof to hoist it. For once Belle’s mother lost her meekness and called out: "Men, every member of this household will die before that flag is raised over us." The soldier cursed and pushed Mrs. Boyd aside. According to Belle, "I could stand it no longer; my indignation was aroused beyond control. . . . I drew out my pistol and shot him." A near riot followed, with Union soldiers firing shots at the house and threatening to burn it down. Then guards arrived. The Confederates considered Belle's act one of simple justice. The Union commanding officer hurried up to investigate, held a hearing--and exactly nothing more happened. Belle put aside her gun and employed tears and smiles. The result was that a guard was posted at the house to make sure no further incidents occurred, and "Federal officers called every day to inquire if we had any complaint"! Belle recalled that in this way she first became "acquainted with so many of them." Before long she had set a good many teeth on edge by fraternizing with the enemy, which astonished and horrified conservative Martinsburg.
To be continued...
Eventually...
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