“How much are you looking for, sir?”
The Preacher said, “Hold on here, you’ve misjudged me. I don’t deal in human beings.”
“Then what is it you’re proposing?”
“The boy and I would be willing to travel with you for a while if you’re willing to make certain guarantees.”
“Such as?”
“Such as how much we would be paid. Such as what it is we would do in your family. Such as what it is we wouldn’t do.”
Sir Charles blowed out another long puff of cigar smoke at the roof of the tent and said, “Ahh, well, Reverend, what is it you propose doing? I can see that little Ahbo would be able to carry his weight and contribute to the family with his stone throwing, augmented, of course, by several other chores, but I really do not have a need for anyone else. I would, however, handsomely reward you for your transference of guardianship of the boy.”
MaWee’d pulled all the candles off the top of the Sweden jungle board. He said, “Pardon me, boss, you wants me to take this sign ’bout that white boy off of here? We gunn put it back saying this here’s the real MaWee’s jungle, ain’t we?”
The conjurer-man kept his eyes on the Preacher but nodded his head at MaWee.
MaWee pulled off the white sheet that said THE JUNGLE OF SWEDEN!!!
Writ out underneath the sheet in letters di-rect on the board was:
The Jungles of Darkest Africa!!!
Help Madame Sabbar Capture MaWee,
the Chief of the Pickaninnys!!!
All the sudden the Preacher was done talking. He grabbed hold of my collar and we marched out the front of the tent. Afore you could blink we’re walking down the road back to Buxton.
Things happened so quick that I had to ask the Preacher, “Why’d we leave without saying good-bye to no one?”
He said, “It wasn’t what I thought it was.”
“What’d you think it was? Waren’t it just a carnival?”
“Forget this happened. It was a bad idea from the start.”
“What was?”
“Nothing, Elijah. I was simply looking for a way to help the Settlement.”
I tried a couple more times but I waren’t getting no more explaining from the Preacher. It ’peared he didn’t want to talk no more, which I look at as he wanted to do some listening, so I told him all ’bout Sammy and how scared I was ’bout getting floated away and ’bout how Sir Charles paid a hundred American dollars for MaWee. I kept on talking all the way to Buxton but the only subject the Preacher seemed to take any kind of interest in atall was MaWee. He had me tell him ’bout it three times. I asked the Preacher if you were still a slave if you didn’t mind working for someone and didn’t have nowhere else to go.
Only thing he said was, “Yes, you’re still a slave. But you’re worse than a slave. You’re an ignorant slave.”
When we got home, the Preacher waited whilst I climbed in through my bedroom window. Once I got in I waved at him and he waved back and walked away. It waren’t till I was in bed thinking ’bout the most exciting day I’d ever had in my life that it came to me that the Preacher’d headed back down the road to Chatham ’stead of toward his own home. That was just as peculiar as a whole lot of the things the Preacher did that night. I just chalked it up to some more of that growned-up behaviour that don’t make no sense, it don’t make no sense atall.
On Monday morning, me and Cooter joined up in front of the schoolhouse. I was ’bout to explode wanting to tell him some more ’bout the carnival, but afore I could open my mouth he said, “Don’t it seem odd ain’t no one else here? Doggone-it-all, Elijah, the same thing happened to me last month when I lost track of the days and sat out here for a half a hour on Sunday morning wondering where everyone was at. Today is Monday, ain’t it?”
“Yes, don’t you ’member sitting in church all day yesterday?”
“So where’s every …”
We both heard someone say, “Oooh!” and walked ’round back of the school. All the other children were crowded up in a big circle way out in the field. Wouldn’t no one dare fight this close to the school so me and Cooter ran over to see what the commotion was.
I said, “I bet they found another dead body!”
Cooter said, “Uh-uh, Emma Collins is standing there and she’d have run off and told someone first thing. I bet one n’em moth lions from that circus you was telling me ’bout busted loose and they’s holding him down till someone come to get it.”
I looked at Cooter and couldn’t help hoping that thickheadedness ain’t something you can catch like a cold.
When we busted into the circle it waren’t neither a dead body nor a lion. ’Twas a little stranger boy standing there looking like he’s ’bout to cry.
I knowed this boy, but I couldn’t get ahold on from where.
Then it hit me. ’Twas MaWee! Somebody had cut all his wild hair off and put him in some proper clothes.
I said, “You escaped! You’re free!”
’Twaren’t odd for folks that just got freed to look and act confused, but I hadn’t never saw no one that looked and acted like they were mad ’bout coming to live in Buxton afore. And MaWee was good and mad. Why, he was pouting and looking like he had rocks in his jaws and was grumbling so’s everyone was wondering if he was crazy.
Emma Collins asked him, “What? You’re wishing you hadn’t escaped? You’re wishing you were still a slave?”
MaWee rubbed his hand over the top of his head like he was still wondering where all his hair was at.
“I done tolt you I waren’t no slave. And I didn’t do no escaping neither. I gots snatched off by his friend!”
He pointed spot-on at me.
I said, “What?”
“After y’all left, your friend come back and stoled me from Massa Charles.”
I couldn’t help myself, I knowed I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I said, “The Preacher?”
MaWee said, “Preacher? He sure don’t act like no preacher I ever seen.”
Cooter said, “What happened?”
“Soon’s we got done breaking everything down, that friend of his bust in holding on to two guns and set to pistol-whipping Massa Red. Then he grab Massa Charles’ hair like he ’bout to scalp him. He shoves one n’em guns right in Massa Charles’ nose.
“We all thinking it gunn be another stickup and boss is sure afeared of this man and say, ‘Ain’t no need to hurt no one, just take the money.’ But that there boy’s friend …” MaWee pointed right at me. “… say he ain’t looking to rob us and then he point the gun what ain’t jammed up Massa Charles’ nose dead at me! He tell the ’gator man he gots one minute to tie my hands up. All the time he got that pistol up in Massa Charles’ nose so deep, blood running down his face.”
Tears were pouring out of MaWee’s eyes. “Once the ’gator man got me roped good, that preacher tell ’em this here’s Canada and folks is free and he taking me to Buxton and he gunn kill anyone what try to stop him. Then he tell Massa Charles that once we gets to Buxton, y’all’s army gunn make sure don’t no one come and try to get me back. He say he got him the fastest horse in Canada tied out in the woods but it waren’t gonna be no different if he had a old broke-down mule ’cause he ain’t gunn gallop him nor trot him nor rush him atall. He say he ain’t ’bout to run from no one, ’specially not in his own country. Then he tell Massa Charles the way to come if he want to find where y’all live. He tell ’em that the road to Buxton branch off to the right ’bout half a mile down and if they daft ’nough to follow him and wants to meet the Lord that bad, then that the way they gots to turn.”
Everybody was looking shocked at MaWee’s story.
He wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve and said, “Then he pull me outta the tent and tug me off into the woods and put me on top that pretty horse and tie me to the saddle and tie them reins ’round his waist and put one n’em pistols in each his hands and we starts walking right down the middle of the road.
“I just knowed
Massa Charles and them gunn come rescue me and I’m hoping when they kill that man they aims good and they don’t shoot me by mistake.”
MaWee kicked at the ground and said, “Only thing I can figure is they took the wrong branch once they come to where the road split up at. But don’t none y’all be surprise if they come busting in that there schoolhouse and take me back with ’em.”
Emma Collins said, “Why’re you wishing for that? You’re free now.”
MaWee said, “How’s I free when they tolt me I ain’t got no choice but to go to school? How’s I free when they got that Johnny boy and his momma watching over me like a sheriff?”
The bell runged and it came to me that I was gonna have to be careful with MaWee. If Emma Collins or one n’em other girls got wind that I was wandering ’bout past midnight at the carnival they’d get me stewed up in a world of trouble.
As we walked up the steps into the schoolhouse, Mr. Travis said, “Good morning, scholars, strivers, and questers for a better future! Are you ready to learn, are you ready to grow?”
He saw MaWee and said, “Well! Congratulations! They told me you’d be joining us today. Welcome, young man.”
I could tell being free was gonna be a hard row to hoe for MaWee. ’Stead of answering Mr. Travis in the proper way he, bold as anything, said to him, “How many people in y’all’s army anyway?”
Children jumped to the side and cleared out of the way so’s not to interfere with Mr. Travis getting a proper snatch at MaWee. But Mr. Travis surprised us. He didn’t cane MaWee nor scold him nor ’buke him in the least. He gentle laid his hand on MaWee’s head and, without no sting in his voice atall, said, “My name is Mr. Travis. When I call on you to speak you will address me as that or as ‘sir.’ I have a feeling you and I are going to be spending a great deal of time together. Once again, welcome and congratulations.”
MaWee said, “Thank you, sir.” Both me and him kept peeking out the window all through the day waiting for Sir Charles and the rough, red-hair white man to come. But they never did show.
It was early Saturday morning, a week after the carnival, and Pa and Old Flapjack and me and Cooter were down on Mrs. Holton’s land uprooting stumps. Everything was going fine when all the sudden Old Flap gave one n’em snorts that let me know he’d seen something or smelt something that waren’t regular. Deers and other four-leg animals ain’t nothing to him so I knowed this sound was for a stranger. A person stranger.
I kept guiding Old Flap along, tugging his reins as he leaned into the chains that were snatching at the stump, but I cut my eyes ’cross the field to find what it was that got him snorting.
I spotted ’em in the tree line.
Folks that are trying to hide in the woods that ain’t real comforted being there always make the same mistake. If you want to know exactly where they’re at without doing a whole lot of searching, all you gotta do is find the biggest tree or rock around. They always think that behind it is the best place to hide. Whoever these folks were, they’d choosed the biggest maple standing on Mrs. Holton’s land.
I saw two heads peeking out from ’mongst the green behind the maple ’bout fifty yards off. I kept working and whistling Old Flap on, pretending I hadn’t seen nothing atall.
I said, “Pa, Old Flapjack just got wind of some folks in the trees off to the east.”
Pa didn’t quit working nor look ’round nor act like I’d talked to him, he just said, “Is they white?”
“No, sir.”
“How many of ’em is they?”
“All I saw was two, sir. Looks like a man and a boy.”
Pa said, “Cooter, head on back and find where Emma Collins is at. Tell her she needed. Don’t be looking back, and once you’re out of sight, run hard.”
Cooter knowed why Pa wanted Emma so he said, “Yes, sir,” and acted like he was strolling away.
It seems peculiar but we had to act like this so didn’t no one get spooked.
Most times when new-free slaves come to Buxton they get helped here by a Underground Railroad conductor, but every once in the while they find us all on their own. When that happens someone usually spots ’em ’mongst the trees or bushes, stealing looks and studying us hard, not sure if it’s safe to get noticed. Even if they ain’t seeing no white people they still caint bring theirselves to show who they are.
We learnt a long time ago not to make no big commotion when we first see ’em. We learnt that all the running they’d been doing, all the looking over their shoulders and not knowing when they were gonna eat again or where they were gonna sleep or who they could trust made ’em skittish and even dangerous and not likely to take to no one running at ’em. Not even if you were smiling and waving and showing how happy you were that they got through. Afore you’d reach ’em they’d just melt back into the woods and you’d be standing there wondering if you’d really seen anything atall.
If a bunch of us went charging at ’em whooping and raising Cain they might disappear back into the forest for another two, three days. And that was two, three days that they were free but didn’t know it, which Pa says is tragical ’cause you ain’t never gonna know how much time you got here on earth and each day you’re free is precious.
That’s why after we’d tried a slew of other things, we found the best way to welcome new-free folks to the Settlement was to use that crying little brat, Emma Collins.
Cooter waren’t gone for no time atall and came back towing Emma with him. Cradled up in her arm she was holding on to her doll. It waren’t nothing but a old sock that someone had jammed stuffing up inside the toe part and then tied string tight ’round and ’round the neck to turn it into a head. It had two big brown buttons sewed on for eyes and six little white buttons sewed on for teeth. It even had a bunch of braided black yarn sewed on for hair that was supposed to look like plaits. Emma’d gone and put little ribbons on the end of each plait and had made the doll a blue dress and a red apron. Total all them things together and you end up with a frightsome mess that’s likely to give you nightmares. But Emma toted it near everywhere but school.
She said, “Afternoon, Mr. Freeman. Afternoon, Old Flapjack. Afternoon, Elijah.”
That’s one of the main reasons don’t no one like Emma, she thought it was funny to speak to a mule afore she spoke to me. Just like Philip Wise, she ain’t never got over that I was the first child born free in Buxton. Ma and Emma’s ma were in a race to see who was gonna be firstborn and Emma didn’t come out till six days after me. Since me and Ma won the race, Emma’s always let the sin of envy choke her heart.
Pa pulled his hat off and answered her. I pulled a face.
He wiped his forehead and said, “You still seeing ’em, son?”
I patted Old Flapjack’s flank and kept my head pointed at Pa but I turned my eyes back to that big maple. There was still one half of a head peeking at us ’bout three feet off the ground. It was the boy.
“Yes, sir, one of ’em’s still there.”
Pa said, “They’s yon, Emma, by that biggest tree di-rect under the sun.”
Emma looked out of the corner of her eye and said, “I see the tree, Mr. Freeman,” and started off walking slow away from us.
When Mr. Frederick Douglass is speechifying he says that the second hardest step in making yourself free is the first one that you take. He says after you make up your mind and take the first step, most of the rest of ’em come pretty easy. But he says that the most hardest step to take is the very last one. He says that finally crossing over from slavery to freedom is the most horrifyingest, most bravest thing a slave will ever have to do. In my eyes it’s odd that Emma Collins is the one who’s best at carrying folks that last step into being free but, truth told, couldn’t no one else do it near as good as her.
Ma says it’s ’cause Emma’s a lot like me, but she don’t mean that in a good way, ’cause Emma caint chunk stones worth spit nor tend to animals so’s they’re happy like I can. And I ain’t nowhere near as good as her in my studies
and schoolwork. Ma means we’re alike ’cause Emma’s fra-gile too.
But she’s a whole lot more fra-giler than I ever been, and whilst you’d have to study me real hard to see it, with Emma it’s something that’s plain and right out front. Fra-gile-ness is sitting on her bold as one n’em awful flowery church hats Ma and the other women wear on Sunday. But the fra-gile-ness does make it easy to tell that Emma don’t mean no one no harm, and that makes the runaways more comforted once they see her.
Emma Collins didn’t make no beeline for the big maple. She kind of zigged one way then zagged the ’nother, moving slow, but always ending up going in the direction of the tree.
It looked to be a whole lot of lollygagging and a walk that should’ve took ’bout a minute to make ended up taking a whole lot longer, but she knowed what she was doing. She bended over to pull up a yellow flower, acted like she was showing it to that terrorific doll, moved on a bit, squatted down to lift up a rock to see what was underneath, put the doll’s face close to the ground so’s it could get a good look too, moved on some more, twirled and spinned ’round a couple times, moved on a little more, brushed something off the doll’s dress and, afore you could say how she did it, she’d wandered right up next to the big maple.
That was when she finally quit moving and looked dead at the tree. I knowed she was talking gentle to whoever it was that thought hadn’t no one seen ’em.
She was too far off and talked too soft for me to hear but I knowed she was saying, “Hello, my name’s Emma Collins. I’m the first girl who was born free in Buxton, and now you’re free too. We’re very pleased you are going to be our new neighbours. Come, everybody’s waiting to meet you.”
Emma finished her speechifying and reached her right hand out toward the tree.
Didn’t nothing move for the longest time, then, slow as can be, a man came out from behind the maple holding on to his hat. He talked a bit, pulled his hat back on, then dropped on one knee and reached his hand out to Emma.
Emma took ahold of his hand, he stood up, and she commenced walking the man right to us.
Elijah of Buxton Page 11