Manhunt (36 page)

Hughes was happy to see his old acquaintance but shocked at his raffish appearance. Hughes also immediately knew Booth's identity. The farmer invited them into his home and fed them. What were their plans? Hughes asked. Davey explained their predicament: after rowing all night, taking the wrong course, and failing to reach Virginia, here they were, exhausted and stranded. They would try the river again tonight and make for Virginia. Until then, they must keep out of sight. It was too dangerous to walk around the countryside or launch the boat during daylight. A Union gunboat or shore patrol could spot them easily. May they, Herold asked, hide at Indiantown from morning until nightfall?

Hughes wanted to help, but he did not want to die. It was much too dangerous, he argued, for the fugitives to remain in the house all morning and afternoon. The manhunters increased in number and got better
organized every day. Union troops and detectives swarmed over Maryland, salivating at the prospect of the new War Department rewards announced on April 20. Yes, they may take refuge at Indiantown, agreed Hughes, but they must leave the house and hide outdoors. He would sustain them with food and news. Beyond that, there was little he could do for them on the Maryland side of the river. No overland escape was possible from Nanjemoy Creek. The only land route would take the assassins farther north, in the opposite direction from Virginia, and directly into the path of Union forces pouring south. The Potomac River remained their only possible escape, and Booth and Herold already possessed a sturdy boat. Hughes suggested a suitable place for them to hide. The three men agreed that it would be best for all if the fugitives left Indiantown as soon as possible.

Booth's heart sank. He was banished once again to lie on the ground—and wait. Tonight would mark another twenty-four hours that he and Herold had spent outdoors. They had been living outdoors for six days, ever since they left Dr. Mudd's on the evening of April 15. The fugitives could not endure a second, grueling experience like the one they had just suffered at the pine thicket: five days and four nights without shelter, waiting to cross the river. No, they must cross tonight. Until then, they had no choice but to hide near the low-lying wetlands close to Nanjemoy Creek. Disgusted, Booth pulled his 1864 datebook from his coat and stared at the calendar he had drawn for late April, May, and June 1865. He found the day's date, April 21, and scribbled down a one-word notation that summarized his view of the situation: “Swamp.”

Datebook in hand, he flipped through the pages until he found the one containing the first entry he wrote after the assassination. He would make another entry now, he decided. Booth put pen to paper and, within a few intense minutes, produced an astonishing document.

Booth compared himself to not one but two ancient, persecuted villains, the first biblical, the second Shakespearean. By naming Cain, Booth conjured up the primal curse from the Bible's first book, at Genesis 4:8–14: “[A]nd it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel, his brother, and slew him. And the Lord said unto Cain, Where
is
Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not:
am
I my brother's keeper? And he said, What hast though done? The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground. And now
art
though cursed from the earth, which has opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand; When thou tillest the ground, it shall not thenceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth. And Cain said unto the Lord, My punishment IS greater than I can bear. Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth; and from thy face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass, THAT every one that findeth me shall slay me.”

The second villain Booth did not identify by name, but quoted: “I must fight the course.” With that passage Booth invoked the haunted spirit of Shakespeare's greatest tragic figure, Macbeth. In act 5, scene 7, the last act's penultimate scene, death is near. Macbeth's act of tyrannicide has summoned his own end. Ill omens abound: his enemies have massed for battle, Birnham Wood is on the move, war trumpets sound, the climax is imminent. Trapped, Macbeth vows to fight on: “They have tied me to the stake. I cannot fly, / But bear-like I must fight the course.” As in the hideous sport of bearbaiting, where the dangerous but ultimately
doomed beast is tied to a stake and vicious dogs are set upon him, Macbeth is fated to struggle, then die.

Booth shut the book and tracked the setting sun, waiting for the darkness. They would have reached Virginia about twenty-six hours ago if they had crossed the Potomac successfully the previous night of Thursday, April 20. Now they were another day behind schedule, for all the good the schedule had done them. Booth shot Lincoln on April 14 and now, seven days later, he was still in Maryland. Washington, D.C., was only forty miles away. The Deep South, far below Maryland and Virginia, where, after four years of civil war, many towns and counties had never seen a Yankee soldier, was beginning to seem an unattainable dream. The heart of Dixieland was a long way away.

As night fell over Indiantown, it was time to push off. They knew the route: south to Blossum Point, east around Mathias Point, then south again, hugging the shoreline until they reached Machodoc Creek where, they prayed, Thomas Jones's memorably named contact, Mrs. Quesenberry, was waiting for them. Then, at this critical moment, when they needed to escape from Maryland as quickly as possible, Booth and Herold did something inexplicable—they did nothing. During the night of Friday, April 21, they did not go down to the mouth of the Nanjemoy, retrieve the skiff, enter the Potomac, and row south to Virginia. Instead, they sat in the dark and did nothing.

Why did they not take to the water that night? Was David Herold too tired and were his muscles too weak for consecutive nights of heavy rowing? Did Booth fear federal gunboats in the vicinity? Were they exploring another option, a new escape route, perhaps a daring and counterintuitive thrust north by land? Or were they just too dejected after their failed crossing on the previous night? Whatever the reason, Booth and Herold chose not to make the attempt. They paid a steep price for their delay. Now they would have to waste another day at Indiantown, concealing themselves through the morning, afternoon, and evening until, once more, the sun set and darkness came.

While Booth and Herold remained in place, their hunters pursued
them with renewed vigor. The evidence collected at Dr. Mudd's, plus alleged sightings of the fugitives southwest of his farm, suggested that Lincoln's assassin was making for the Potomac and a river crossing to Virginia. The couriers and the telegraph wires jumped all day with intense traffic. General Augur wrote to General Slough at Alexandria: “Has the Michigan Cavalry yet left for the lower country as we spoke of this morning? If not, hurry it up.” W. W. Winship, captain and provost marshal at Alexandria, reported to Colonel Taylor in Washington, “the cavalry will start immediately with instruction to publish to fishermen, negroes, and others a description of the assassins and the reward for their apprehension, and to scout and picket the river to below Dum-fried until further orders.”

Winship also received an update from General Augur: “When Booth was last heard from he was near Wicomico River, Maryland. It is feared he has crossed into Virginia. He had broken his leg and was on crutches. He had also shaved off his mustache. Let your cavalry know these particulars, and let them go down below Aquia and, if possible, connect with the cavalry I send down by boat to-night into Westmoreland County.” Winship's laconic reply promised action: “Your dispatch is received. The cavalry started at 5 P.M.”

From Washington, Colonel Taylor, assistant adjutant general for the Twenty-second Army Corps, sent word to N. B. Sweitzer, commander of the Sixteenth New York Cavalry. “The major-general commanding directs that you place a battalion of your regiment on board a steamer … and proceed down the Potomac, debarking on the Virginia shore as nearly opposite the mouth of the Wicomico River, probably at or near Nomini Bay, as practicable. Having landed your people you will use them as you may judge best for the discovery of Booth, the murderer of the President, and any of his accomplices who may have succeeded in crossing the Potomac.”

At 9:00 P.M. on Saturday, April 22, Gideon Welles telegraphed Lieutenant Commander Eastman, U.S. steamer
Don
, at Saint Inigoes, Maryland: “Booth was near Bryantown last Saturday, where Doctor Mudd
set his ankle, which was broken by a fall from his horse. The utmost vigilance is necessary in the Potomac and Patuxent to prevent his escape. All boats should be searched for and destroyed, and a daily and nightly patrol established on both shores. Inform your people that more than $100,000 is offered for him. Allow none of your boats to leave, except for search elsewhere.”

General Augur sent urgent word to Commander Parker, U.S. Navy at Saint Inigoes, Maryland. “There is reason to believe that Booth and an accomplice are in the swamps about Allen's Fresh, emptying into Wicomico River. He is evidently trying to cross into Virginia. Have you the Potomac well guarded there and above? Fearing that he may have already crossed, I wish to send a force of cavalry to Nomini Bay. Can I land horses there or in that vicinity, and with how much water? Please inform me at once.”

Augur flashed a second message to Parker: “There is no longer any doubt that Booth and an accomplice were near Bryantown on Saturday last, inquiring for Piney Church. He is very lame, having broken his leg, and was last seen on crutches. He was undoubtedly endeavoring to cross into Virginia. I am desired to request your most vigilant cooperation, by a rigid and active blockade of all the Potomac, to prevent his escape into Virginia.”

O
N THE NIGHT OF
S
ATURDAY
, A
PRIL
22, J
OHN
W
ILKES
B
OOTH
and David Herold gathered themselves and made for their boat. They would have been in Virginia around fifty hours ago if they had crossed on the twentieth, and about twenty-six hours ago if they left Indiantown at the first opportunity, the night of the twenty-first. They compounded their original error by tarrying at Indiantown an extra day. All told, they had lost two days since they left Thomas Jones and had wasted more than thirty-six hours during their Indiantown diversion. If they had any hope of surviving the manhunt, they could not afford to squander any more time and make any more mistakes. They had endured so many setbacks: Booth's debilitating injury; delays at Dr. Mudd's and the pine thicket; the aborted river crossing; the Indiantown folly. These episodes robbed Booth and Herold of time, momentum, and mental fortitude.