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234 •LINCOLN THE UNKNOWNbox, over <strong>the</strong> side of <strong>the</strong> ship and down into <strong>the</strong> skiff; next,<strong>the</strong>y lowered a huge ball and heavy chain; <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong>y climbedin <strong>the</strong>mselves, shoved off, and drifted downstream.The curious crowd on <strong>the</strong> shore did precisely what <strong>the</strong> detectiveshad expected <strong>the</strong>m to do: <strong>the</strong>y raced along <strong>the</strong> bank,shoving, splashing, talking excitedly, determined to watch <strong>the</strong>funeral ship and see where <strong>the</strong> body was sunk.For two miles <strong>the</strong>y kept even with <strong>the</strong> drifting detectives.Then darkness crept up <strong>the</strong> river, clouds blotted out <strong>the</strong> moonand <strong>the</strong> stars, and even <strong>the</strong> sharpest eyes could no longer makeout <strong>the</strong> tiny skiff in midstream.By <strong>the</strong> time <strong>the</strong> detectives reached Geeseborough Point, oneof <strong>the</strong> loneliest spots on <strong>the</strong> Potomac, Colonel Baker was surethat <strong>the</strong>y were completely hidden from view; so he headed <strong>the</strong>skiff into <strong>the</strong> great swamp that begins <strong>the</strong>re—a malodorousspot, rank with rushes and slough weeds, a burial-ground where<strong>the</strong> army cast its condemned horses and dead mules.Here, in this eerie morass, <strong>the</strong> two detectives waited for hours,listening to find out if <strong>the</strong>y had been followed; but <strong>the</strong> onlysounds <strong>the</strong>y could hear were <strong>the</strong> cry of bullfrogs and <strong>the</strong> rippleof <strong>the</strong> water among <strong>the</strong> sedges.Midnight came; and, with breathless quiet and <strong>the</strong> utmostcaution, <strong>the</strong> two men rowed stealthily back up-stream, fearingto whisper, and dreading even <strong>the</strong> lisping of <strong>the</strong> oars and <strong>the</strong>lapping of <strong>the</strong> water at <strong>the</strong> gunwales.They finally reached <strong>the</strong> walls of <strong>the</strong> old penitentiary, rowedto a spot where a hole had been chopped in <strong>the</strong> solid masonrynear <strong>the</strong> water's edge to let <strong>the</strong>m in. Giving <strong>the</strong> countersign to<strong>the</strong> officer who challenged <strong>the</strong>m, <strong>the</strong>y handed over a white pinecasket with <strong>the</strong> name "John Wilkes Booth" printed on <strong>the</strong> lid;and, half an hour later, it was buried in a shallow hole in <strong>the</strong>southwest corner of a large room in <strong>the</strong> government arsenalwhere ammunition was stored. The top of <strong>the</strong> grave was carefullysmoo<strong>the</strong>d over, so that it looked like <strong>the</strong> rest of <strong>the</strong> dirtfloor.By sunrise <strong>the</strong> next morning excited men with grapplinghookswere dragging <strong>the</strong> Potomac, and raking and proddingamong <strong>the</strong> carcasses of dead mules in <strong>the</strong> great swamp behindGeeseborough Point.All over <strong>the</strong> nation millions were asking what had been donewith Booth's body. Only eight men knew <strong>the</strong> answer—eightloyal men who were sworn never to disclose <strong>the</strong> secret.