“Thirty-two seconds,” Venable said. He whistled softly.
“May I show you one thing more?” Rhoodie said. Without waiting for a reply, he loosened the catch that held the magazine in place below the rifle, stuck the curved metal container into a coat pocket. Then he pulled another one out of his haversack and clicked it into position. The operation took only a moment to complete.
“Another thirty shots?” Lee asked.
“Another thirty shots,” Rhoodie agreed. He drew back the shiny handle with the snick Lee had heard before. “Now I am ready to fire again. But what if the Americans—”
“We are Americans, sir,” Lee broke in.
“Sorry. The Yankees, I mean. What if the Yankees are too close for aimed fire?” Below the handle was a small metal lever. Rhoodie clicked it down so that, instead of being parallel to the handle’s track, its front end pointed more nearly toward the ground. He turned away from Lee and his staff officers. “This is what.”
The rifle roared. Flame spurted from its muzzle. Cartridges flew out of it in a glittering stream. The silence that followed the shooting came hard and abrupt as a blow. Into it, Lee asked, “Major Venable, did you time that?”
“Uh, no, sir,” Venable said, “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Never mind, It was quite rapid enough.”
Rhoodie said, “Except at close range or into big crowds, full automatic fire isn’t nearly as effective or accurate as single shots. The weapon pulls up and to the right.”
“Full automatic fire.” Lee tasted the words. “How does this repeater operate, if I may ask, sir? I have seen, for example, the Spencer repeating carbines the enemy cavalrymen employ, with a lever action to advance each successive bullet. But you worked no lever, save to chamber your first round. The rifle simply fired, again and again.”
“When the charge in a round explodes, it makes a gas that rapidly expands and pushes the bullet out of the muzzle. Do you follow me?”
“Certainly, sir. If I may remind you, I was an engineer.” Lee felt irked at being asked so elementary a question.
“That’s right. So you were.” Rhoodie spoke as if reminding himself. He went on, “My weapon taps some of the gas and uses it to move the bolt back so the magazine spring can lift another round into the chamber. Then the cycle repeats itself until the magazine has no more ammunition left in it.”
“Most ingenious.” Lee plucked at his beard, not wanting to go on. Southern inventors had come up with a great many clever ideas during the war, only to have them prove stillborn because of the Confederacy’s feeble manufacturing capacity. Nevertheless, the question had to be asked: “With how many of these repeaters could you supply me?”
Rhoodie smiled broadly. “How many would you like?”
“I would like as many as you can furnish,” Lee said. “The use to which I might put them, however, would depend on the number available. If you can provide me with, say, a hundred, I might furnish them to horse artillery batteries, so they might protect themselves against attacks by the enemy infantry. If, on the other hand, you are fortunate enough to possess five hundred or so—and the requisite ammunition—I would consider outfitting a cavalry regiment with them. It would be pleasant to have our horsemen able to match the firepower those people are able to bring to bear, rather than opposing them with pistols and shotguns.”
Andries Rhoodie’s smile grew wider still, yet it was not the smile of someone sharing something pleasant with friends. Lee was reminded instead of the professional grimace of a stage magician about to produce two doves from inside his hat. Rhoodie said,” And suppose, General Lee, suppose I am able to get you a hundred thousand of these rifles, with their ammunition? How would you—how would the Confederacy—use them?”
“A hundred thousand?” Lee kept his voice low and steady, but only with a distinct effort. Rather than pulling two doves out of his hat, the big stranger had turned loose a whole flock. “Sir, that is not a piker’s offer.”
“Nor a likely one, if you will forgive my saying so,” Charles Marshall said. “That is nearly as many weapons as we have been able to realize from all of Europe in three years of war. I suppose you will deliver the first shipment by the next northbound train?” Irony flavored every word.
Rhoodie took no notice of it. “Close enough,” he said coolly. “My comrades and I have spent some time getting ready for this day. General Lee, you will be sending General Hoke’s brigade down to North Carolina over the next couple of nights—am I right?”
“Yes, that is so,” Lee said without much thought. Then all at once he swung the full weight of his attention to Rhoodie. “But how do you know of it, sir? I wrote those orders just today, and was in the process of informing President Davis of them when interrupted by you and your repeater. So how can you have learned of my plans for General Hoke’s movements?”
“My comrades and I are well informed in any area we choose,” Rhoodie answered. He was easy, even amused; Lee abstractly admired that; he knew his own presence overawed most men. The stranger went on, “We do not aim to harm you or your army or the Confederacy in any way, General. Please believe me when I say that. No less than you, we aim to see the South free and independent.”
“That all sounds very fine, but you did not answer the general’s question,” Marshall said. He ran a hand through his slick, dark blond hair as he took a step toward Rhoodie. “How did you learn of General Hoke’s movements?”
“I knew. That’s enough.” The stranger did not back down. “If you order the northbound train’s engineer to stop at Rivington, General Lee, we’ll put aboard the first shipment of rifles and ammunition. That would be, hmm, about twenty-five-hundred weapons, with several magazines’ worth of rounds for each. We can supply as many again the night after that, until your army is fully equipped with new pieces.”
“A hundred thousand rifles would oversupply the Army of Northern Virginia,” Lee said.
“The Confederacy has more armies than yours. Don’t you think General Johnston will be able to use some when General Sherman brings the whole Military Division of the Mississippi down against him come spring?”
“General Grant commands the Military Division of the Mississippi,” Walter Taylor said: “all the Federal troops between the Alleghenies and the river.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, so he does, for now. My mistake,” Rhoodie said. He turned back to Lee, this time with a hunter’s intent expression on his face. “And don’t you think, General, that Nathan Bedford Forrest’s troopers would enjoy being able to outshoot the Federals as well as outride and outfight them?”
“What I think, sir, is that you are building mighty castles in the air on the strength of a single rifle,” Lee answered. He did not care for the way Andries Rhoodie looked at him, did not care for the arrogant way the man spoke, did not care for anything about him…except for his rifle. If one Southern man could deliver the fire of five or ten Unionists, the odds against which Confederate armies had to fight in every engagement might all at once be set at naught.
Rhoodie still studied him. Lee felt his cheeks go hot, even on this icy winter’s day, for he knew the stranger could see he was tempted. The book of Matthew came into his mind: Again the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; And saith unto him, All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.
But Rhoodie did not ask for worship, and he was no devil, only a big, tough man, who was not too tough to wear a cap with flaps to keep his ears warm. For all that Lee had not taken to him, he spoke like a reasonable man, and now said, reasonably, “General, I will stay here and guarantee with my person that what I say is true. Give the order for the train to stop and pick up the rifles and ammunition. If they do not come as I say they will, why, you can do whatever you please with me. Where is your risk in that?”