The Freedom Thief

by Mikki Sadil

  He handed it to Bess, and they began their trek through the forest. As they walked, burrs and sharp dried leaves on the forest floor scratched his bare feet, prickly vines curled around his legs, and the chill wind buffeted the travelers as it swirled through the trees. The slight glimmers of dawn light did little to illuminate the way through the thick trees and coarse undergrowth of the forest. Then came the sound of dogs howling.

  Jesse stopped. “Ben, them dogs be after us already?” His voice was shaky.

  “I doubt they’re after us. Even if Pa got woken up by the noise from the tunnel, he would just about be getting dressed and he wouldn’t know we were gone. The hunters are most likely after some other runaways, but we can’t stop here. Bess, do you have any more onions to rub on our feet?”

  Jesse pulled one out of his pocket. Ben cut it into four pieces so they could each rub their feet and legs. His feet were icy and riveted with tiny scrapes and cuts from walking barefoot. The onion burned like a million tiny hornet stings, and for a moment, he couldn’t keep the tears from his eyes. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, but not before Jesse had noticed.

  “Feets hurt, Ben? Too bad they not got tough like ours.” Jesse looked at Ben with no expression on his face, and once again, Ben felt a flash of fear.

  Ben tossed his piece of onion out into the woods. “We need to keep going. Even though those hunters and dogs are probably after somebody else, if they find us instead, they’ll still take us back.”

  Jesse frowned. “I done told you, Bess, I done told you Ben too young to help us. Now we gonna be found by them dogs, they gonna take us back and Massa Tom is gonna whup us and he gonna sell Josiah. It better we go on by ourselves, send Ben back.” Jesse’s voice thundered through the forest stillness.

  Bess said, “Jesse, Ben is tryin’ to help us. We can’t go on by ourselves, we don’t know no more’n he does.”

  Jesse turned away and sat down heavily on the cold ground, covering his face with his hands. Ben sat down beside him, put out his hand and touched Jesse on the arm.

  “Jesse, I’m sorry, honest I am. I promised to get you to freedom, and that’s what I’m going to do. I…” He stopped. “Wait. Listen, do you hear the dogs now?”

  There was no sound anywhere. The forest was quiet. Wherever the dogs had been, the sound of their eerie howling was gone.

  Ben stood. “Okay, I reckon we’re all right for now. They must have gone in a different direction. Let’s get going.”

  It was gradually becoming lighter and it was easier to move through the trees, but daylight meant it was time to find a safe place to bed down. Ben tried to quicken his step, but with low hanging branches slapping them all in the face and thorny brambles pulling at their clothes, walking any faster was impossible.

  Before long, the solid ground gave way, and their feet squished in mud. The forest had given way to a marsh.

  He turned to Bess and Jesse. “I think this marsh may lead us to a swamp, which is good for us. If Pa starts looking for us, or sends out hunters with dogs, the dogs can’t follow our scent…”

  “A swamp?” Jesse’s voice was loud and raw with fear. “I heerd about swamps. They gots black water what rises up at night an’ swallows up people, and them dead trees moves around and makes bridges to keep peoples out, an’…”

  Ben swallowed hard to keep from laughing. “Jesse, Grammy told me all about those old stories, and they’re just superstitions. They’re not real, honest. We won’t go into the swamp unless we have to, but if we hear dogs again, the swamp might be the only way they can’t follow us.”

  Jesse muttered under his breath again, and Ben saw the baleful look he gave him. Ben started to say something, thought better of it, and stepped quickly into the marsh.

  They walked carefully, trying to keep from splashing as they stepped. Occasionally Josiah would giggle as the watery mud squished between his toes, but other than that, they walked on in silence. Dawn gave way to daylight and a weak sunshine that would soon be strong and hot. When the marsh grasses and muddy water ended, Ben stopped and stared in dismay at what lay in front of them.

  Chapter Eight

  The swamp stretched like a long, heavily muscled arm before it disappeared under black-trunked trees covered in lichen. Broken tree limbs mingled with tall, thin weeds and fan-like brush to hide any trail that might once have existed. Brackish waters rippled in places as unseen creatures moved below, and the stench from rotten wood, dead plants, and animals, and the dung of those living was almost overpowering. One minute the silence was thick and heavy, the next it was shattered with the songs and screeches of swamp birds before it became silent again. It oozed out over the countryside as far as Ben could see, and he knew there was no way around it.

  Finally, he said, “All right, we can’t stand here all day. We’ve got to get into the swamp and find a place to hide.”

  Jesse grabbed Bess’s arm and said in a low voice, “We not goin’ in the swamp, bad things there. Ben said we not go, but here we is.”

  Bess patted the hand on her arm. “Jesse, look around. There’s nothin’ to see ’ceptin’ swamp. Don’t rightly see we got any other choice.”

  Ben scanned the trees. He remembered reading about an explorer who used a long straight tree branch to put in front of him as he walked through a swamp. It had saved him several times from falling into quicksand.

  He picked one tree out and with his carving knife quickly cut three long slender branches off. He shucked the small twigs and leaves off each branch like cleaning an ear of corn. When he finished, he had smooth poles almost as long as he was tall. He handed one to Bess and to Jesse.

  “Here, we’ll put these in front of us with each step and that will tell us how deep the water is. Remember, if the pole sinks, stop right where you are and don’t take a step. There might be quicksand there.” He was glad his mother had insisted that the history and geography of Kentucky be part of his home studies. He hoped he could rely on what he had read to keep them all safe in the swamp.

  Jesse jerked the pole angrily. “You goes first, Ben. Anythin’ out there to eat us, he gets you first.”

  Ben grinned, but was careful not to let Jesse see. He pushed the pole in front of him and took a cautious step, then another. After a few feet, he motioned for the others to follow him. They moved slowly, pushing the poles in front of them before they took a step. Josiah clung to his father’s pants, stepping carefully behind him.

  Time seemed to stop. Ben had no idea how far they had gone or how long they had been in the swamp. The scummy water was cold, and occasionally one of them shivered as their clothes had not dried from the clammy heat in the tunnel. At the same time, they were all beginning to sweat again. September meant chilly nights but warm days, and with the sun shining, the swamp was starting to heat up.

  The rotting vegetation that clustered around them slowed their progress, and several times one of them stumbled against slimy rocks hidden beneath the surface. Trees leaned out across the water, and the thin, finger-like branches tried to ensnare them. Then a scream cut through the silence. Ben turned around just as Josiah disappeared beneath the dirty waters.

  Bess began screaming. “Josiah! My baby! Help, Ben, help!”

  Jesse dropped his pole and scrambled futilely around in the water, his big hands slicing through like knives but not finding anything. Ben splashed back as quickly as he could, slipping several times over downed tree limbs.

  “Jesse, what happened, wasn’t Josiah holding on to you?”

  The big man kept flailing around in the water, accomplishing nothing more than creating more sludge coming to the surface. “He hold on but now he’s gone. Where my boy, what happen’ to him?”

  Ben looked down into the waters and realized that Josiah must have stepped into a sink hole. There was nothing for him to do but dive down and see if he could find him. He threw his jacket to Bess. “I’ll find him. Jesse, stop doing that, you’re just stirring the dirt up more.” He took a dee
p breath, said a silent prayer to God, and dove under the stinking waters.

  Below the surface, the waters were even worse. It was dark, murky, with strange little swamp creatures scuttling out of his way. Hidden vines, tall swamp grasses, broken tree limbs floating in the deeper recesses all combined to slow his progress. Ben could barely see in front of him, and he knew his breath would not hold for much longer. Then, lodged up against a submerged group of rocks, he saw Josiah’s body. He reached out, grabbed the boy’s jacket, and scrambled for the surface. A moment later and they were both above the water, but Josiah was not breathing.

  Ben handed the boy’s lifeless body to Jesse. “Come on, we’ve got to find a place to get out of the water and onto solid ground.”

  Jesse threw his pole down, hugged the boy to his chest, and looked about wildly. “I don’t see no ground, Ben, what we do? Can’t let my boy die, Ben, you do somethin’ now.”

  Ben shook his head, still looking for what might be some solid ground. He spotted tall cypress trees clustered together a few yards ahead. The ground around them looked solid enough to stand on. He pointed to them. “Over there. Hurry!”

  Less than a minute later, Jesse laid Josiah down on the muddy ground. Ben knelt and looked at the lifeless little boy. He remembered being very sick with a stomach flu once, and how his whole body had convulsed when he threw up. He tried the only thing he could think of — he pushed as hard as he could on the center of Josiah’s stomach. After three or four pushes, a fountain of black water exploded out of Josiah’s mouth. Ben turned him over, and the boy began vomiting.

  Soon, Josiah was cradled in Bess’s arms. Tears ran down both her face and Jesse’s as they realized their son was alive.

  Exhausted, Ben slid down against the back of one of the cypress trees and closed his eyes. He was soaked, cold, hungry, and totally dispirited. The only thing he knew for sure was that they were lost in the middle of the swamp, and he had no idea what was going to happen to them. The accident with Josiah seemed a very bad omen to him, and he wondered what other terrors lay ahead. Josiah finally quit vomiting and coughing up swamp water and lay listlessly between Bess and Jesse. They were trying to warm him up, but with his clothes soaked it wasn’t doing much good.

  Ben roused himself and looked at the frightened little boy. He forced his body to stand. “Josiah, we need to get your clothes dry somehow.”

  He looked around at the cypress trees and spied one with a long spindly limb hanging a couple of feet from the ground. It had only a few leaves and some small twigs on it.

  “Bess, take Josiah’s shirt, jacket, and overalls off. I’m gonna hang them over that limb and maybe they’ll dry out a little before we start moving again.”

  “But he gonna be cold, how we keep him warm?” Bess’s voice was raw with worry.

  “I know, but it’s the best way. Hold him between you. That will help warm him.”

  Ben shaved the limb free of its leaves and branches, and hung the wrung-out shirt and overalls over it. There was only a slight breeze, but with the sun getting higher and hotter, maybe it would work.

  Bess and Jesse found a cypress tree in a small bit of sunlight that they could lean against with Josiah wedged between to absorb their body heat. Ben found another tree and soon fell asleep.

  A loud splash nearby woke Ben up. A glance at the sky brought the realization that it was afternoon, and they had slept several hours. He wanted to get started again. He took Josiah’s clothes down and found they were almost dry. As he turned to wake everyone, Josiah sat up. “Mama, I’m hungry. We got somethin’ to eat?”

  Bess rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Ben, you think it okay for Josiah to eat somethin’ now?”

  “Yeah, I think so. If he’s hungry, that’s a good sign, huh, Josiah? Oh, and here are your clothes. They’re almost dry.”

  Josiah came over and put his arms around Ben’s waist. “Thank you, Ben, you be savin’ my life.”

  Ben hugged him hard. The young slave who had befriended Ben when he first came to the plantation was as much of a brother to him as his own brothers. “Hey, my friend, I won’t ever let anything happen to you. That’s what friends do, you know, they watch out for each other.”

  Josiah grinned and took his clothes. “Yah, Ben, we watch out for each other, huh.” He turned back to his mother. “Mama, I be powerful hungry.”

  Bess opened Ben’s shirt and handed a biscuit and some ham to everyone. Ben stopped in mid-swallow as he realized that they didn’t have any water. He had not even thought about it when he was rushing to put food into his knapsack.

  He looked around and said, as casually as he could, “I reckon we best keep an ear-out for the sound of running water. A stream will have fresh water, so we can get a drink.” He was relieved when no one said anything about being thirsty.

  When they finished eating, Ben found another tree leaning precariously over the spit and stripped a long branch of its twigs and leaves before he handed it to Jesse. “Here. Try not to drop this one. We may need them all.”

  Jesse frowned as he took the pole. “What you mean, we may need them? What we use them for, ’ceptin’ to poke holes in that dirty water? “

  “I don’t know, Jesse, all I know is these poles are the only weapons we have. What if we come across a…a wild hog or something? I don’t know what kind of wild animals might be in here, so it’s just better that we have these for as long as we’re here, okay?”

  Jesse mumbled, “There’s spirits in this here swamp. Poles don’t keep us safe from spirits what gonna get us if we not careful.”

  “Aw, come on, Jesse. There’s no such thing as spirits.”

  He glared at Ben. “You know nothin’, white boy. Bad spirits come outta two little white girls pickin’ berries. They go deep into the swamp, and they never come out. Now they spirits come flyin’ out with pickin’ baskets and they hit peoples on the head, and they die. You don’t know nothin’.” He was still glaring at Ben when he picked up his pole and stepped back into the murky waters.

  Bess hesitated. She had her arm around Josiah. “Ben, what about my boy? We can’t take no more chances he get hurt or step in ’nother one of them sink holes.”

  Ben nodded and found another slender limb. He slicked the twigs and leaves off, cut the remaining branch to fit Josiah’s size, and handed it to the boy.

  “Take this, Josiah, and follow your pa. You put the pole in front of you before you take a step, you hear? If the pole doesn’t sink, it’s okay to step there. Just follow your pa close, okay?”

  Josiah grinned and his big brown eyes twinkled. “Yah, now I big boy with my own pole. Don’t hafta hold on to Pa no more, huh, Ben?”

  As the afternoon wore on, the air grew hotter and more humid, with steam rising from dead leaves and tree limbs that had lain decaying and undisturbed for years. They were all breathing hard, but at the same time, trying to avoid taking a deep breath that would have left their lungs full of the vaporous odor known as swamp gas. Their feet and legs sank into the thick gooey mud, making a loud sucking noise as they pulled them out. Immediately, the footprints they left behind filled with the dirty water, erasing any trace of their passage. At least that meant no one could follow them through their prints. When Ben licked his dry lips, he almost choked on the rancid taste the stagnant air left on them. They stumbled on, stopping only to rest for a moment while watching a turtle or large lizard slip into the water in front of them.

  When Josiah started coughing again, everyone stopped in mid-stride. Jesse turned back to the others, as Bess put her arms around her son. “Josiah, why you coughin’? You be gonna throw up again?”

  “No, Mama, I be okay. Just got some junk in my throat, it makin’ me cough.”

  Ben said, “I don’t want to stand here in the water too long, but let’s take a short break and make sure Josiah’s okay.”

  They stood quietly, not speaking, waiting for the coughing spell to stop. A disintegrating tree branch fell into the water nearby with a loud CRAC
K, its sound amplified by the silence of the swamp.

  “Ben! What’s that noise? Slave hunters find us?” Jesse’s dark face was mottled with fear.

  “No, that wasn’t a gun shot. See that big branch? It wasn’t there when we stopped. It must have just broken off and that’s what made the noise. But I reckon we’d best be moving on.”

  For once, Bess was reluctant. She was holding Josiah. “I don’t know, Ben. Maybe Josiah not ready to move on. Maybe we stay here awhile.”

  “No, Bess, we can’t.” Ben’s voice was firm; with the sun up, he had a gut feeling it wouldn’t do to linger any longer.

  “I don’t think it’s safe to stay here. We’re out in the open, so we need to find a good place to hide until dark comes.”

  Josiah had stopped coughing. He said, “I better now, Mama. I walk with Ben, okay, Ben?”

  “Sure, we’ll both lead the way. Now, your mama and papa have to follow you, how about that, huh?” Ben grinned, and Josiah laughed in return.

  The quiet was broken by the calls and flapping wings of the birds and Blue Herons which inhabited the swamp. Frogs croaked loudly, resenting the intrusion into their space. Occasionally, a scampering or skittering noise indicated the presence of a swamp rabbit or raccoon. Once Ben frightened an otter; another time Josiah laughed as they passed a beaver building his den. They trudged on through slimy water and the curling mist that rose from swamp flowers, slipping sometimes on the mossy rocks only half-hidden beneath the waters.

  Josiah stumbled over an unseen log, almost hidden beneath the murky water, and his face scrunched up in a mask of fear. Ben grabbed him and hugged him hard.

  “It’s okay, Josiah, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall again. Hey, your ma and pa have almost caught up to us. We gotta move or we won’t be in the lead any more, right?”

  Josiah grinned and gripped his pole harder. “Yah, come on, Ben, you go too slow and I hafta leave you behind!” His eyes twinkled, his fear forgotten.