Rebel in Time

'Coming from a Scotchman — high praise indeed. And your arrival is a fortunate one. I have a question about some of the machinery that I am sure you can help me with. I must write to your father and you can tell me what to say.'

'I'm no engineer, my father saw to it that I escaped the reek of the works and had a proper gentleman's education.'

'Damn the gentleman! You grew up around those machines and you know as much about them as any man.'

'True — but don't tell father — or he'll resent every farthing spent on my school fees.'

'Finish that drink and we'll go over to the factory and I'll show you the problem. Okay?'

'Yes, agreed, as long as we can return to the rest of this bottle.'

Okay. That's where I had heard that strange term before. Right here, from the colonel's own lips. The same word that Troy had used. What was the bond between this man of such high station and the black man who had sought him out? I itched to know — yet dare not ask either of them.

The colonel was quite proud of his manufactory, for in a year's time he had built it up into quite a going concern. The problem he wished to discuss concerned one of his drill presses. He pointed it out to me, shouting above the roar of the leather belts whining about their pulleys above our heads.

'Broken in half, see it, the large supporting arm. Dumb nigger let it drop when we were moving it. I took a yard of hide off his back, but that won't fix the damage. Can I get a replacement — or must I return the entire drill press?'

I bent stiffly and ran my fingers over the frame. 'See here, this number, cast right into the metal? That's the identification of the wooden mould that this was made from. All you have to do is write to father, describe what happened, and give this number. They'll make a new sand mould, cast the part and ship it to you. One of your fitters can tap out the old sleeve here, then drill the new arm out to receive it. There will be no trouble putting it right again.'

I kept my eyes open as we finished the tour, but the only thing at all out of the ordinary that I could discover was a locked and barred storeroom. Since the colonel had been boring me with exact details of everything else we had seen I felt that it was not out of order to question him about this. His manner was so offhand that I was sure he was lying.

'Secrets, Robbie, industrial secrets. I am working on an improvement upon Whitney's cotton gin that will make my fortune one day. But none shall see it until it is perfected. Now let's get back to that whisky.'

I made my apologies as soon as I could after lunch, pleading an aching leg, which was certainly the truth. Troy brought the buggy around and helped me up into it, biting his lips shut, forcing himself to remain quiet until we were well out of sight of the house before speaking.

'He's the one, the Colonel Wesley McCulloch that I'm looking for!'

'He appeared to recognize you too, or at least he was interested in your identity. He accepted my explanation, never mentioned it again. Just said something about all of your race each resembling the other.'

'He would, wouldn't he, the son-of-a-bitch. Another thing that I can tell you, he's not very loved by his servants. They were almost too frightened to talk to me about him. One old man finally did. Seems that McCulloch beat one of his slaves to death a few months ago. I believe it. He must be in hog heaven, Massah McCulloch.' As he said this, Troy spat with hatred into the dusty street. 'Servants also said that you went to his factory with him. What did you see there?'

He was too casual with the question; there was something else about McCulloch that he wanted badly to know. I pretended innocence.

'Just one more dreary plant. I've been standing up too much. I'm looking forward with great anticipation to stretching out and putting this leg up on a cushion.'

'Were they making anything in particular? I mean anything unusual?'

'Unusual in what way?' When he failed to answer at once I decided that the time had come to put the question to him. 'I have a feeling that there are a number of items that you have neglected to tell me about. Isn't it time that you took me into your confidence? Or do you mistrust me?'

He shook his head solemnly. 'No, Robbie, I have all the trust in the world in you. But there are some things that I just can't explain. You'll just have to take my word for that. But I can tell you that our friend the colonel is up to no good. It has something to do with weapons. Were they manufacturing anything like that in his factory?'

'Emphatically no. Of that I can be certain. Mr Remington's rifle barrel drill is an object I would recognize at once. And they certainly weren't casting cannon.'

'There are different kinds of weapons. I have reason to suspect that McCulloch might be involved in the manufacture of a new kind of gun. One that might be assembled out of very commonplace steel parts. Was there anything like that?'