Incredible Journey Chapter 8

The Incredible Journey of Thomas Johnson

Chapter Eight

"Blessed with victory and peace, may the Heaven rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us as a nation."

(Francis Scott Key)

The Ruse Believed

The afternoon was spent wandering around the farmstead trying to familiarize myself with my new surroundings, just in case I decided I'd stay and work for Chapman. The men, including Jubal, were working in the fields, preparing them for spring planting. Jubal's duties, as I understood from the conversation at breakfast, was to make certain men and animals were properly watered and nourished, which involved relays from one field to another in a wagon pulled by two mules. Hiram was at work in the stables and shop, repairing and readying equipment for use when planting began.

Benjie, Henri, and Antoine were at school, some mile or so down the road. Chapman established the school originally to serve the children of the farm and those of the farm's tenets. However, it soon became wide-spread knowledge any child was welcome to attend at no cost, if they could get there. As a result, two teachers had been hired to teach all eight grades. I knew the boys would want me to assist them with their school work in the evening after chores and supper; I looked forward to it. They were such a delight to be around and work with!

The area immediately around the two houses and out buildings had been described by Jubal when he'd taken me on the tour so I did have some familiarity with them. As I sauntered about the yards, my curiosity concerning Edmond Chapman increased, especially after the scene I'd witnessed in the morning in his study. He definitely had a fondness for young, prepubescent girls and had correctly recognized my own likes as well, yet seemed not all that bothered by it. In fact, if I wasn't mistaken, he encouraged me to become more than just affectionate with the younger sex of my gender, including his own son!

Strange man!

Water was supplied to the livestock from two wells, both located far enough from the pens and effluent from them. The first well, near the houses, sat toward the back, and was pumped by a windmill and the water from the pump was piped up into a medium-sized wooden water tower. Piping evidently ran from the water tower to the stock tanks and milking parlor in the barn. I thought it was somewhat unusual for a farm, such as this, to have a water tower. Granted, it only stood perhaps twenty-five to thirty feet above ground, but it was of sufficient size to supply the stock. I thought it wouldn't take much effort to pipe the water in to both houses, at least to the lower floors, and let gravity supply the pressure.

The second well was centrally located; more toward the center of the farmstead, and water was drawn from it by a hand pump. Located near it was a watering trough for livestock and a hitch rail.

I located the smoke house and checked to see if anything was inside and there wasn't. The two storm cellars were next on my list to investigate. Jubal said they stored stuff in them. What stuff did they store? Both were buried partially underground and mounded with earth. One was considerably larger than the other so I checked out the larger one first.

Lifting up the wooden cellar door, I eased it back, descended several steps, and encountered another door. I unlatched it, opened it carefully (one just never knows what might be lurking on the other side of a door, does one?), and with only the filtered sunlight for illumination, I could see potatoes spread out on open shelves along one side, wooden crates filled with sand, squash of various types, cabbages and other large root vegetables either on shelves or hanging from wooden rods which reached across the passageway between the two sets of shelves. By the looks of what remained, the spring and summer vegetable crops would be welcome, as well as the fall harvest.

Securing the doors behind me as I left, I turned my attention to the other, smaller storm cellar. From outward appearance, it seemed to be much deeper and have more earth mounded over it. The outside cellar door, while lifting in the same manner as the other, had an unusual method of opening. A rope was attached to the door and ran up to a pulley, across to another pulley, and finally down just a bit and attached to a counterweight. When I lifted the door, it opened easily since the weight assisted. It was a heavy door and thick! Again, descending steps, I encountered another door, only this opened outward, toward me. It too had a counterweight on it easing the opening. It too was quite thick, heavy, and appeared to be filled with something.

Opening the door, I was hit with a blast of cold air! It was an ice house; buried underground using the earth to insulate it! A precursory inspection revealed not only blocks of ice, covered in sawdust, but hanging from the low ceiling were cured hams, great slabs of bacon, fresh meat, and some meat, bagged in muslin, covered in sawdust in amongst the ice blocks that appeared to still be frozen. Will wonders never cease on this farm? If there was ice, there must be an icebox somewhere in the house as well; I just hadn't found it as yet. Perhaps it was located back in the pantry.

My inspection tour was interrupted by the sounds of the donkey cart rattling down the lane and a loud "bray" from Goliath, answered by Bathsheba, and the laughter of three boys once they spotted me. Benjie, handling the reins, drew the cart to a halt by a watering trough, climbed down and tied the burro to a rail while he drank his fill. Antoine ran toward me and gave me a big hug. Once he received one in return, Henri stepped up for one also, which he got, then the two of them raced back to relieve Benjie. Benjie headed for me and instead of just wanting a hug, he leaped up, wrapped his arms around my neck and legs about my waist, grinned and gave me a kiss! Of course, I hugged and kissed him back.

I released him, gave him a swat on the butt as he scooted away to help Henri and Antoine unhitch Goliath and put him in his pen. Goliath immediately rolled in the dust, stood and sniffed both Bathsheba and Zebulon. Finding everything satisfactory, he headed for the feed bunk where the boys put some hay and oats.

The boys were chattering excitedly, anxious to tell me of their day, but I forestalled them and urged them to take their books to the house and change clothes. I promised to help with chores and they could tell me all about the day then. We had a great time, visiting, joking while we fed chickens, gathered eggs, fed the goats, and the hogs. They explained their chores included some of Jubal's and Rueben's when plowing and planting season was over. I laughed at the boys, noticing every opportunity they had, they'd touch me, hug me, or just be as close to me as possible!

When we were finishing chores, the rest of the Doucet men came in from the field; mules and men all tired. The animals were unhitched, rubbed down with gunny bags, and turned loose in the corral where they all promptly rolled in the dust. Hay and oats were placed in the feed bunks for the animals. I noticed, although the youngest and the smallest of his brothers, except for Antoine, Jubal unhitched the mule team he was driving by himself and put everything away. The wagon was left near the barn, ready to be hitched up again in the morning. Farm life meant everyone worked and most of it was hard labor for young and old.

The men, just as dirty and dusty as the animals, walked over to the water tower and it was then I noticed something I'd not seen before in my explorations. A pipe extended out from the base of the tower about five or six feet, elbowed down to a shorter pipe where three sprinkler heads were attached, each about two feet from the other. When a valve was opened, water would "swoosh" out on whoever or whatever was below. Hell, it was a shower! It was not at all dissimilar to showers I'd seen in some of the old schools I'd attended when fostered out.

I watched with fascination as the men stepped up, quickly stripped naked, and rinsed the grime and dust from their bodies. Looking at them, standing, laughing, happy to be together, I was struck with the natural beauty of Hannibal Doucet's sons. All were well-built, physically fit, attractive, and well-endowed young African-American males; each uncircumcised with about an inch of foreskin ending in a nozzle, extending beyond the helmeted head. There was no doubt, however, Jefferson was the most blessed, although I didn't think it'd be long until Jubal joined him!

The four hired men joined in, all similarly dirty and equally well-equipped, but slightly built. Their frames weren't as muscular, but yet they too possessed strength in their wiry, trim bodies. They joked with each other and as I watched, first one then the others looked at me, said something among themselves, laughed and one jiggled his junk at the other three. There was no doubt what he wanted to do either to me or to them!

My eyes drifted back to Jefferson and while I watched, Benjie sidled up to me and said admiringly, "Jefferson's got a big cock, doesn't he!"

"Yah," chimed in Henri from the other side, one arm around my waist, "the biggest of all!"

Antoine, for his part, just giggled, reached down in his trousers, and adjusted his own hard little pecker. No doubt, he agreed with his two cohorts!

After supper, I again assisted the boys (as if they needed any assistance) with their homework. The kitchen table provided our workspace and classroom. Jubal, tired from the day's work, retired early. Although I was "tagged" as his tutor, nothing had been mentioned, as yet how and when I was to commence tutoring him. I hesitated to ask, vowing instead to say little and listen a great deal. The less I said, the less likely I was to make "faux pas" and blunder out some information that need not be said, most of all where I came from or how it came to be I knew so much!

I half expected Chapman to summon me to his residence the next morning, but Jefferson, taking me aside before he left for field work, informed me, as he groped my ever-stiffening probe, Chapman left earlier in the morning and would be gone a couple of days. According to Jefferson, after Chapman returned, he and Hannibal would be hiring extra help for the spring planting. Before releasing me, Jefferson asked quietly, "Would it be possible for us to have a short visit sometime?"

"Of course," I agreed, thinking it would be nice for both of us to plant our seeds as well.

After seeking tacit approval from Celeste, since she seemed to be the one in charge most of the time, I spent the next couple of days browsing through and reading from Chapman's extensive collection of books in his study. According to Celeste, Chapman had instructed everyone to give me unfettered access to the buildings and grounds, his office included. Wondering why, I posed the question to Celeste.

"Mr. Chapman is most confident you'll be with us for a while."

Everybody has to be somewhere, I thought, so it may as well be here as anyplace else- at least until I could figure out a way to get back. First, I thought, I'd have to determine what put me here in the first place!

April 9, 1865

Chapman arrived home midafternoon and after dinner, in the midst of growing darkness, I was summoned to his residence. Walking through the breezeway to his side of the complex, I noticed two uniformed soldiers ride up the pump and watering trough in the front farmyard. They dismounted and let their horses drink, while they too drank their fill from the pump. Curious, I delayed my appearance to Chapman to walk out into the yard to greet them. One of the soldiers was a captain and the other, a private, he informed me, was his orderly. They were passing through on their way to Fort Madison and declined my offer to spend the night, although I really had no right to make the offer! Once remounted, the captain did a strange thing, he tossed me a salute and inadvertently, I returned it! Less face it, I'd seen enough television shows and movies in the theatre's to know how to do it, I just didn't have any real reason to other than it was a "farewell" gesture on the part of both us!

I returned to the breezeway and continued my journey to Chapman's study. It was almost dark by then and the house was lit with oil lamps, making it easier to see my way there. Stepping to the study door, Chapman walked down the hall from the front foyer,

"Just enjoying a breath of fresh air," he explained nervously.

Stepping aside to allow him entrance into his own study, he clasped my shoulder lightly and insisted, "No, no, be my guest, Mr. Jeansonne" allowing me to precede him.

Settled behind his desk, Chapman, pursed his lips, licked them, mopped his brow with his handkerchief, stretched his arms out in front, brought them back, laid his hands flat on the desk, and finally, just clasped them together and let them rest on his rotund stomach.

It hit me like a ton of bricks; not tossed one at a time, but the whole fucking ton at once! Chapman, when standing the foyer, saw me speaking to the two soldiers, the captain throwing me a salute, and me returning it! Oh, boy, how do I explain that gesture? Chapman was literally beside himself wanting to know what transpired in the yard and why two soldiers appeared, conversed with me, and left, acknowledging with a salute usually reserved for an officer of higher rank. I also suspected Chapman, seeing the salute, thought I held a high rank and, with the disappearance of the tutor, probably some "mean-sum-bitch" when I needed to be!

Sitting there, rather than prolong his ordeal, and to establish my bona fides, false as they were, I asked, "Yes?"

He again wiped his brow and asked hesitantly, "Mr. Jeansonne, is your work about done?"

I smiled, nodded ever so slightly (God I do love melodrama sometimes) thinking, `get ready for this, Mr. Chapman' and answered,

"Yes, it is, Mr. Chapman," I answered confidently and with authority. "General Robert E. Lee surrendered to General U.S. Grant earlier today in the parlor of Wilmer McLean at Appomattox Court House, Virginia."

"Oh my God in Heaven!" he exclaimed, suddenly filled with confidence and thankfulness. "This hellish, goddamned butchery has stopped! The war is over!"

"Yes, this part of the conflict is over," I answered and continued, "but not all hostilities are done. There are still a few pockets of holdouts yet to clear away!"

There was at least one unit of the Confederate Army, if I remembered my U.S. History class, somewhere in Louisiana or one of the other southern states, I thought, that would finally surrender in May. Rather than intimate any more considering the situation, I let the issue drop.

"Where is this `Appomattox Court House?" Chapman asked.

"Just outside of Washington, D.C., not far from Manassas Junction" I responded. "Mclean's farm has a creek running through it named Bull Run. You probably remember the first battle of Bull Run or Manassas in 1861."

"However," I continued, "I think it's best we not say anything to anyone at this point in time. Let someone else announce it!."

I figured the news was already or had been telegraphed throughout the nation by now and would be proclaimed in local papers. I had no idea where the `local' paper might be printed, but I assumed it was Keokuk.

Chapman, still visibly shaken and rejoiced at the news, looked at me with pleading eyes and asked, "Have you made your decision yet about staying on as my accountant and Jubal's tutor?"

What alternatives did I have? Not many, I decided; leave here and wander around in the nineteenth century hoping no one shot me or worse, burn me for being a Wiccan or disappear into the cities and never return to my own time? No, here is where time brought me and here I'd have to stay until I could return.

"Before I answer," I said confidently, "I have yet to assist Jubal with his studies and my understanding he's going to a private academy and wants to be prepared."

Chapman laughed, saying with an additional chuckle, "I must apologize, I fear Jubal and I deceived you – somewhat. Jubal has already been accepted at a private school in Pennsylvania and will start in the fall. Tuition, room, and board are already paid for."

"Really?"

"Really, Mr. Jeansonne, Jubal is a very bright lad and someday, God willing, he'll get a law degree and come back here to handle my legal affairs."

Shaking my head from side to side, acknowledging I been duped, I smiled conspiratorially, knowing Jubal and Chapman weren't the only people utilizing a bit of chicanery to explain things in order to gain shelter and succor.

He was still chuckling and barely heard my answer.

"Yes!"

"What?" he asked, either unable to believe me or unable to hear me.

Either way, he damn near choked when he brought his hilarity to an abrupt halt.

"I said, yes, Mr. Chapman, "if you still so desire, I will work for you."

"Great!" he shouted and rose up from behind his desk, moved his bulky frame toward me, extended his hand to clasp mine, and with a hearty shake, announced, "Deal!"

"When do I start?"

"Right now," he announced. "Bring your grip over, take the front bedroom, the one with the balcony, on the second floor, and be prepared to take a look at my accounts in the morning."

"How about your regular accountant," I asked, "won't he be upset I'm stepping in?

"Nah," Chapman answered, "I was going to replace him eventually. Right now he's down south on some type of business and will returning at the end of the month on the SS Sultana."

To be continued.

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Thank you for reading "The Incredible Journey of Thomas Johnson" – Chapter Eight

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