by Michael Ross
Pa will have her hide if she’s sneaking around, thought Will. I best warn her and see what’s she’s up to.
He kept walking, faster now to make time, and rounding a corner, almost bumped into his friend Joe, heading to a different part of the college.
“Joe! Where you headed?”
“Supposed to be mathematics—but I’m going over to sign up.”
“Sign up? For what?”
“Haven’t you heard? After John Brown’s slave revolt, the governor is raising a militia, a home guard. To defend the state in case of trouble, white or slave. I figger to join.”
“I could speak to Captain Morgan, if you’d be interested in the Rifles.”
“No, thanks. I think the militia will support the state, neutral for now—but be antislavery. I know my pa has slaves, but even he doesn’t believe keeping them is right. He is giving Josiah his freedom papers this week. I don’t hope to fight, but if it comes to that, I want to be fighting for our homes, our families, and not for rich planters. I know not everyone thinks that way. Did you know my cousin? He’s actually vice president of the United States. He thinks more like you.”
“Whatever you say. Just thought I’d offer. Got time to go hunting this weekend? Before we get snow?”
Joe smiled, “Sure, Will. One last time before Christmas. Meet out on the Paris road, where we saw that big buck?”
“I’ll be there,” said Will, and hurried off to class. After school, Will went over to his job at Hobson’s store. He waited on customers, swept, and unloaded crates in the back to stock shelves. As he finished for the day, Hobson came over. He looked like he had something on his mind.
“Will, I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, Mr. Hobson. Anything wrong?”
“Well, yes. And no. You’ve done a good job here, Will. You work hard. No one can complain about that. It’s just that, well, your drilling with Morgan and the Rifles ... some customers stopped coming in. They say they won’t give their business to slavery sympathizers. They figure if you are with Morgan, and you work here … well, it reflects badly on the store. It cost me business, frankly more than you’re worth. I like you, Will. Times are changing. With this Harper’s Ferry business, things are more divided every day. I have heard rumors about the Presbyterian Church splitting over it. It’s getting so you have to pick a side and if you don’t, people will assume what side you’re on, anyway.”
Will was stunned. He had no idea people would even take notice of him, or whether he was with the Rifles. He just viewed it as a fun learning experience, and a way to pay back Captain Morgan for his generosity.
“So what are you saying, sir?”
“I’m saying I’m going to have to let you go, unless you’re willing to drop the Rifles. I know you have been sick and it seems like a rotten time to tell you, when you’re just getting back on your feet. But while you were out, some customers came back. They weren’t shy about sharing the reason they hadn’t been coming in.”
“But what about my debt, for the uniform materials, the bayonet, the other things? You’ve known all along I was doing this to be with the Rifles.”
“I know, and I feel bad about it. I will just write off the debts—you do not need to pay on them anymore. Consider it a last gift, either way. But I can’t lose more business because of a slavery sympathizer.”
Will felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. A slavery sympathizer? He thought of himself as just a hardworking, ambitious young man. Slowly, Will nodded.
“I understand, sir. Thank you, but I will find a way to pay what I owe. I am sorry to have troubled you, or your business. I made a promise of loyalty to Captain Morgan. He has paid for my school. He’s taught me to ride. That is the greater debt, both in money and in honor. I appreciate the opportunity that you have given me. But I will honor my commitment to Captain Morgan.”
Will hung up his storekeeper apron on its hook and left. It was almost sunset. He walked toward the livery to get the oxen. He felt confused, dejected, and angry, all at the same time. His emotions buzzed like a nest of hornets in his head. What should slavery have to do with him? He did not own slaves, or desire to own one. He was not entirely sure what he thought of the whole issue. Of course he had seen the slave markets, and seen slaves in chains. He had heard stories about cruel treatment. He had heard about the debates between Lincoln and Douglas in Illinois. That was none of his affair. He had all he could do to keep up with his studies, the Rifles, and home life. And now, there was Jenny. He was hitching the oxen and turning his thoughts to that much more pleasant prospect, when a coach went by with a woman in it. She turned her face toward him in the dim light for just an instant, not seeing him. It was Albinia.
✳ ✳ ✳
Luther sat in the darkness and waited. Jemima and the girls lay on pallets, sleeping fitfully. He did not know how long they had been here. All he knew was that periodically the false wall that hid their compartment in the church basement slid aside, admitting the parson with food. He also exchanged their chamber pot. Once or twice, early in their time, his wife came and tended Luther’s head wound with poultices. It had healed. He kept telling them to be patient. Luther was getting nervous, wondering if the man was just waiting for the slave catchers to come. He wondered if they should break out. The dogs would not have their scent now. He got up and began pacing.
He heard sounds outside the door. They had just eaten. It was not time for more food. He grabbed the little stool as a weapon and hid to the left side of the door. If there were slave catchers, he would fight.
The fake wall slid to one side. There was darkness, no light. Luther could barely make out a shape in the doorway. Jemima woke and called out, “Who dere?”
The figure only responded with a shushing noise, moving into the room. Luther hesitated and was almost ready to strike when he heard Albinia speak.
“It’s Albinia. Do not be afraid. I have come to move you. Friends are outside waiting. It’s midnight. You must be absolutely silent. Move normally, do not rush. Attract no attention to yourselves. You must trust me and the others. Ask no questions.”
Luther relaxed, but wanted to protest. A million questions filled his mind as Albinia turned and motioned them to follow. Luther made sure Jemima went last, himself first, in case of any kind of trouble. Jackson warned them not to trust anyone. Yet how could they not follow Albinia, having come this far?
As they stepped out into the starlight, the freezing wind tore through their thin clothing. A large dark buggy with small windows waited, hitched to two Belgian draft horses. Luther heard Albinia urge them inside. “Quickly! There are blankets inside, and I’ll be with you.”
He could see two dark shapes up on the driver’s seat outside the buggy compartment. There was no moon. He could tell nothing about those to whom he was about to entrust their fate. As Luther stepped into the buggy compartment, his foot struck something that rattled and felt like a chain. He almost jumped out again.
“What you do, Miss Albinia? They be chains in here!”
Jemima and the girls shrunk back. Albinia impatiently whispered, “I know! I am not betraying you! I’ll explain, but just get in!”
Luther was terrified but saw no options. He got in the buggy and helped the ladies, including finally Albinia, into the compartment. As they settled in the seats, Albinia shut the door and rapped on the outside. The horses began to pull.
“Stay low. Pull the blinds over the windows,” Albinia said. “The chains will only be used if we’re stopped by a patrol. They will chain me, too, saying I was helping you escape. If it looks like you’re already caught, they’ll leave us alone.”
Jemima trembled and asked, “Where dey takin’ us? Who dat drivin’?”
“It’s better you don’t know who it is. If you get caught, they’ll beat you to make you tell who helped you. I’m willing to take the risk, since you already know me. But there’s no point in putting others in danger. We’re going further north.”
Clara
whimpered, but Olivia declared, “If we caught, I fight till dey kill me.”
“I understand,” said Albinia. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Whatever you do, do not panic. Now let’s be quiet. Try to sleep if you can. Your next stop may not be as comfortable as the last. After this, I won’t be able to be with you, but I won’t lead you to anyone who can’t be trusted. You must believe that. I wouldn’t risk jail and worse myself if that weren’t true.”
Luther spoke once more. “Why you do dis, Miss Albinia? Why you hep us?”
“Because I believe that God wants me to. That He thinks no man has the right to enslave and harm another. Because I think that Jesus loves you as much as He does me.”
Luther shook his head. “I hear white folks say dat, like de parson. But ain’t any ever risk dey neck for me before. You different.”
They sat in silence, listening to the creaking of the coach, the horses hooves, and the irregular bouncing along the road. Luther saw Jemima and the girls lulled back to sleep, but he was determined to stay alert. He still could not understand why Albinia would risk anything for him. Wasn’t she Lucy’s friend?
After what seemed like forever, the coach pulled to a halt. There was a tense silence, and Luther was about to open the door when the coachman tapped three times fast in succession, and then two slow taps. The coach began to move, turning around. Luther wanted to jump, but Albinia grabbed his arm. “Stay put!” she commanded. “It means there’s a patrol. Put these shackles on the girls and your mother, and then yourself. I’ll do my own. Act like you’re terrified, that you’ve been captured. And take this…,” she handed him a knife. “Put it under you, and don’t use it or let it show unless you absolutely must.”
The coach moved slowly back towards the church. In the dark, no one would be able to see the tracks of their turn. In a minute or so, Luther heard voices outside.
“Halt! What’s a coach doin’ sneakin’ around in the night?” asked a rider.
The Irish driver responded, “Sure ‘an we caught ourselves a few blackbirds, tryin’ ta fly north for the winter. We’ve just saved ye’ some trouble. Begorra, an’ we caught their helper as well—white, can ye believe it? We’re headin’ back to Lexington, to the sheriff.”
Another rider laughed. “Well, it’s a fine birdcage, I’ll give you that! But you won’t mind then if we just take a look?”
The coach door opened. Torches illuminated the interior. Luther saw a man with a floppy hat, a scraggly beard, and a pistol in his belt. The man poked his head and torch inside. Clara set up a piteous wail. “Please, massa, please! Dey done caught us, we jus’ vistin’ kin. We ain’t seen our daddy almos’ a year! Mercy!”
Jemima and Olivia took it up, “Mercy, massa!” Luther just gave a terrified glance, and dropped his eyes to the floor, one hand fingering the knife. Olivia buried her head in her arms, showing the shackles on her wrists to the rider outside.
The rider turned his attention to Albinia. “A white woman! In with those slaves! Y’all ought to be ashamed! Don’t you know where you belong?”
Albinia sounded defiant. “I belong in Heaven, with my Savior.” She raised her arms, showing she was chained. “These chains will fall away, by God’s grace.”
“Oho! One of those religious ones. Well, we’ll see if you sing the same tune to the judge. Common, thief!”
The rider on the ground turned back to the coachmen. One of the other riders had never let a shotgun barrel drift away from the driver. “I suppose you’re all right then. Too bad, would have been fun to roast these blackbirds in a pie! Maybe even sample this white little missy!” He leered at Albinia, laughing. Then with a sigh, he shut the coach door.
“All right, on with you then. Don’t think I won’t check the sheriff.” The riders followed the coach for a distance. Luther heard Albinia whisper, “Don’t make a sound. Hopefully they’ll just leave.”
They heard the sound of receding hoofbeats. The coach moved slowly for few minutes, then stopped. Luther heard the coachman thump twice slowly, then three times rapidly.
“All clear,” said Albinia. “We’ll wait just a minute, like we’re resting the horses. Then move on. We won’t make Paris tonight. We’ll have to put you in the emergency place. Whatever you do, stay there. Someone will come for you when it’s safe. Keep the knife, just in case.”
Albinia passed a key to Luther. He unlocked her chains. Then she freed everyone else.
Luther saw resoluteness in Jemima. “Now I know, de good Lawd give us you for an angel,” she said to Albinia. “You could of given us to dem patrollers.”
After half an hour, the coach stopped again. The coachman pounded on the side five times rapidly.
“Time to get out!” said Albinia. “Here is where I leave you. Follow the directions of the coachman. Do not try to find out who they are. You can trust them as you trust me. They will take you to a place of safety. Stay put! Only come out if you hear someone singing, “Steal Away to Jesus,” and five rapid thumps on the door. I know you know that song, Luther. We’re near a creek, the south fork of the Licking River. If your water runs out before someone comes, you can try to refill it, but only if it is night. I’m sorry not to leave you in a safer place, but with the time the patrol took, there’s no choice. You can’t be out in daylight. Now go, and God go with you!”
One by one, Luther and his family got out of the coach. Light was beginning to touch the horizon in the east. They could just make out a creek about forty yards from the road.
A black hooded figure motioned them to follow, and they did. He led them down to the creek, across a big log used as a bridge. Coming to the other side, he seemed to plunge into the underbrush. Clara stumbled, and Luther picked her up. Still speaking not a word, the man motioned them to stop. He stooped and felt around in the mud, coming up with a cleverly hidden rope. Holding up a hand to tell them to stay in place, he walked toward a large oak tree with low branches. He looped the rope around one of the branches, then pulled. Seemingly out of nowhere, a large square platform overgrown with brush lifted, revealing a dry hole, reinforced with timbers, and steps leading down into it. By the growing light, they could barely see rough cots, a bucket of water with a dipper, and a little table with bread and dried meat on it. After they were all in, the man at the top waved, as in farewell. The platform began to close over them, like the lid to a coffin. They were alone, in the dark again.
✳ ✳ ✳
Curious about his invitation did not begin to describe Will’s feelings as he drove the oxen toward Dr. Simpson’s place. He had gotten used to the doctor and Jenny stopping by while he was ill, but now that he was better, those visits had ceased. Then one day after school, he stopped at the post office for the family mail and found a formal invitation. The invitation was for dinner, the following Friday evening, at the Simpson house, North Broadway and Fourth Street. His interest in Jenny, not just her uncle’s horses, had grown greatly in the last few months. Will thought himself far too young to be involved in a serious relationship. The threat of war was changing things, however. He’d heard of young men seventeen and eighteen years old getting married recently. What did Jenny and Dr. Simpson have in mind?
Knocking on the door, Will was admitted by a young white servant maid. Will had never been to the house before and was surprised, since most servants were Negroes. He followed the servant into a drawing room and sat to wait. The surroundings were ornate, reminding him of Captain Morgan’s house. Blue and silver wallpaper surrounded a marble fireplace, with dark mahogany Empire chairs and settee scattered around the room. After a few moments, the white swinging door opened. Dr. and Mrs. Simpson entered, followed by Jenny, looking her best. Dr. Simpson undertook introductions. Mrs. Mary Simpson was a slight woman, with dark blonde hair, small smiling mouth, and brown kind eyes, dressed in a deep green velvet gown with brown side skirts. After brief small talk, the servant announced dinner, and they proceeded to a parlor off the main dining room. A small round table was set for f
our, with Dr. and Mrs. Simpson seated across from each other. Jenny and Will were across from each other also. Dr. Simpson said grace, and the courses began.
“Will,” said Dr. Simpson. “I’ve heard of your desire to study law. Is that still your intention?”
“Yes, sir,” said Will. “I hope to. I have always thought it a fine way to help people. That is why I wanted to go to Transylvania University.”
“An admirable ambition. And I understand from my friend the provost that you are doing well.”
“I try, sir. I believe I will make honor roll this term. Captain Morgan has been kind enough to pay my way. My parents could never afford it. I was working at Hobson’s to help out until just recently.”
“Oh? Nothing to do with your illness, I hope? I could have a word with him again.”
“No, sir. Mr. Hobson said that my participation in the Lexington Rifles was losing him business. People wouldn’t shop there because they thought I must be pro-slavery, and Mr. Hobson too.”
“And are you?”
“No, sir, not exactly anyway. I’ve taken an oath to Captain Morgan, for his help and sponsorship.”
Will saw Jenny looking over at him. Her eyes pleaded, her head tilted, her brow furrowed, entreating him to listen and agree. It was obvious she wanted to speak—she seemed to be holding back a torrent of words.
“Suppose I told you that a friend of mine, a judge, needs a clerk. Someone to look up cases for him, learn to read the law. In time, it could lead to a full position as a lawyer. The position has a salary, of course, enough to cover your studies at the university. You could earn the law degree as well. You might have to live in town. I don’t know that there would be time for farm work, but perhaps enough wages to help your family hire some help. There also would probably not be enough time to participate in the Rifles. What would you say to that?”
Will sat in disbelief. What could he say? “That’s mighty generous, sir. I don’t know what to say.”
Jenny burst in. “Will! Please! This is your chance! You know the Bible says a house divided against itself cannot stand! Abraham Lincoln up in Illinois made a speech about that. He said the country has to become all slave or all free. Everyone says war is coming. That the states are going to split. The country is deeply divided. Will, you don’t want to be on the wrong side!”