The Freedom Thief

by Mikki Sadil

  From then on, Ben tried to keep him from thinking about his fall into the sinkhole. He pointed out pretty swamp flowers, bees buzzing around their hive high in a cypress tree, and made up quick short stories about strange little creatures that lived beneath the swamp whenever they saw bubbles rising up from the water. When the putrid smells rising from the waters fought with the delicate fragrance of blooming swamp flowers made their noses twitch and sneeze, Ben had a story ready about the little swamp fairy that teased their noses.

  While the two boys kept up a continuous conversation, Bess and Jesse slogged on through the muddy waters without speaking, until Ben stopped.

  “Listen! Do you hear that?”

  From behind them came the faint sound of dogs baying and snarling. The hunters were on the move.

  Chapter Nine

  Jesse’s fear showed in his face. “We got to hurry! Them dogs is on our trail again.” He pushed ahead of Ben and Josiah, splashing through the water, unmindful of the noise he made.

  “Jesse, stop! I don’t know where the dogs are, but they can’t follow our scent through the swamp. The only way they can get to us is to follow our sounds, so we’ve got to be quiet.”

  Jesse stopped and turned around. “If you not takin’ us in this here swamp, we not have to be quiet. Dogs gonna get us for sure.”

  Ben looked at him. “We’ll be all right, Jesse. We can hurry but we need to move as quietly as we can.”

  They were deep into the swamp now, and it seemed as though the stinking waters were all that existed in this part of the world. There were many times when a sudden burst of air bubbles, signaling the settling of a submerged tree limb, popped up and startled them. At one point, Josiah stopped abruptly. In front of him and Ben was a piece of rusted iron, twisted roughly into the shape of a cross. It was leaning precariously against a tree, but the human skull sitting on top was the most frightening aspect.

  Bess and Jesse caught up to them, and Bess said, “Ben, you think that be somebody what died in this here swamp?”

  “Could have been. But that’s not happening to us, so come on, let’s keep going.”

  They kept on sloshing their way through, and with no sense of time, Ben wondered if they were going to be in this swamp forever. Daylight left the sky, and the shadows grew longer and more ominous. An eerie glow emanated from the waters, which Ben sincerely hoped was created from nothing more than the last remnants of sunlight seeping through the trees. From time to time, the sound of dogs came to them over the water, but they couldn’t tell if they were getting closer or going farther away. They were too exhausted to speak, and after what seemed an eternity, the steamy waters trickled out onto solid ground. The swamp had ended in another deep forest, but the little group was too weary to even notice until Ben stopped. “Listen, do you hear that? It sounds like running water. We’re in a forest now, so this could be a fresh water stream.”

  Jesse dropped his pole. “That be the river?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it might just be a fast running stream. Come on, we all need a drink of water.”

  Jesse scowled. “I think we not ever gets to the river.”

  Ben decided it would be best not to argue with the big man and headed in the direction of the water sounds. He heard Jesse muttering behind him and Bess whispering back.

  “Hey, Ben, we be okay now? We outta the swamp so I can puts my pole down?”

  “Yeah, Josiah, I think so. See, this is pretty solid ground now. Look, I can jump up and down and not fall in!” Ben demonstrated with a couple of jumps and had Josiah laughing at his antics.

  They reached the stream where the water was cold and sweet. Ben knelt with the rest of his party, cupped his hands, and drank as much as he could. Bess opened Ben’s shirt again and pulled out the apples, a few biscuits, and what was left of the ham. Ben ate his share of the food before he tore the shirt into strips.

  “What for you doing that, Ben?” Josiah’s eyes were bright with curiosity.

  “I’m going to bury a couple of strips here, and then I’m going to walk around in a circle and bury the rest of them. If the dogs get here, they’ll be confused and won’t know which way we went.” He didn’t really think it would confuse the dogs too much, but it was the best he could do.

  They took another drink and followed the stream for a short distance. Now that Josiah didn’t have his pole to lean on, his leg began to hurt. When he started making little sounds of pain and trying to stifle them, Ben knew it was time to find a place to rest. He led them into the underbrush in a particularly dense area and soon the exhausted group fell asleep.

  When Ben woke up, moonlight was shimmering through the trees. He heard dogs barking, so the hunters were coming through the swamp. He shook Jesse awake but put a finger to his lips and whispered, “We gotta be quiet, the hunters are close by. Let’s get to the stream and follow it. Even if the dogs get this far, they’ll lose our scent through water. Let’s go.”

  When they reached the stream, Ben stepped into the cold water with the others behind him. The sound of the dogs faded once again, and Ben drew in a deep breath, catching a whiff of smoke. He looked around at Bess and Jesse, but they were focused on helping Josiah navigate the swiftly-running water. He decided not to say anything about the smoke.

  The moon rose, and now there was enough light in the forest for the trees to cast their shadow. Bess caught up to him and said, “That moon be bright, Ben. Maybe we should stop and hide so the hunters won’t see us?”

  “I reckon we should keep on walking. If the hunters were close, the dogs would be louder, and besides, it’s easier to get into the shadows now than it would be in daylight.”

  She fell back with Jesse again, but Ben knew she was concerned. When his bare feet and legs numbed from the cold stream, Ben crossed to the other side and led them into the thick underbrush of the forest. At times, Ben needed to cut heavy vines and twisting weeds out of the way. Jesse tried to step in the footprints that Ben left, so walking was a little easier for Bess and Josiah. Occasionally, Ben heard Josiah cry out, and he knew Josiah’s leg was hurting. Nevertheless, Josiah refused to be carried.

  As the moon faded, taking what little light it shed between the trees, Ben started looking for a place to hide during the day. The wind was coming up, and with their clothes still damp from sweat and the humidity in the swamp, and feet and legs cold from the stream, all of them were shivering.

  Ben stopped. “Look over there,” he whispered, as he pointed to something in the distance. “Doesn’t that look like it’s a clearing of some kind? Maybe we should check it out.”

  Jesse said, “Maybe we’s stay here, you go check it out.”

  Ben sighed. Jesse still didn’t trust him completely. “Better sure than sorry, I guess, Jesse. You stay here, and I’ll go see what it is.”

  He waited until they had hidden before he moved forward until he reached the edge of the clearing. There were no indications of people having been there, or a path leading away. There was nothing but a small circle cleared out of the forest. He turned to go, when a voice said, “Stop! Don’t move.” With the voice came the sound of a rifle being cocked.

  Ben froze. His heart dropped into his boots, and he began to tremble. How could the slave hunters have gotten so far ahead of us?

  There were footsteps behind him, as the same gruff voice said, “Turn around. Slow like. You run, things go bad for you.”

  He turned slowly, and looked into the faces of three very large black men. In the dim light provided by the fading moon, he could see they were all dressed in coveralls and heavy jackets. One had a turban wrapped around his head, from which escaped a few strands of kinky hair. The other two wore knitted caps, with mufflers wrapped around their necks and faces so that only their eyes were visible. The man with the turban held the rifle. He spoke again. “You, white boy, what you do here in this forest? Why you not in your warm bed, anyhow? Where you come from?”

  The other two men crowded in closer until B
en could breathe in the stench of their unwashed bodies as well as the odor of tobacco and whiskey. His heart stopped for a moment as he realized these men could be rogue runaways. If so, he had no chance of escape.

  Turban Man poked Ben in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. “Hurry up, boy, we not got all night. You tell us what you doin’ here.”

  Ben’s heart pounded. Icy droplets of sweat sprang out on his forehead, and his throat became so dry he couldn’t speak.

  Turban Man prodded him again, harder this time. “You gots to I count five to tell us what you doin’ here. At five, this here gun goin’ off.”

  The other two men guffawed and jeered at Turban Man. “Yah, he count all the way to five, can’t count no higher!”

  Ben swallowed hard, and tried again. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I need some help for…” His voice was thin and raspy.

  Turban Man jeered, “White boy need help? You be lyin’, boy. White folks don’t need no help in this here forest. White folks don’t never come to this here forest. I thinks you be hornswogglin’ me, white boy.”

  Ben’s voice was stronger now. “No, listen, I’m from a plantation on the other side of the swamp. I’m helping… I mean, my friends and I are lost. We’re not sure where we are. Can you help?” He had second thoughts about telling these men that he was helping slaves escape. He had no idea who they were or what they might have in mind.

  Turban Man roared with laughter. He turned to his friends. “White boy here lost, needs help from us’uns. That funny, huh?” The other two started laughing, but Ben was tired, totally frustrated, and suddenly he didn’t care if these men were rogues or not.

  Without thinking, he hit Turban Man on the arm. “Stop laughing at me! I’m not lying. I have three friends hiding in the woods. Are you going to help us or just stand here and laugh?”

  The men stopped laughing, and Turban Man frowned. He thrust the rifle into Ben’s stomach again. “Somethin’ not sound right, white boy. You think ’cause we be free coloreds you can bamboozle us? You do that, boy, you don’t see the sun come up.”

  Ben’s stomach shrunk into a wizened ball where the gun had jabbed him, and his bravado deserted him. He decided he’d better tell them the truth.

  “Come with me and I’ll show you. My friends are slaves from my pa’s plantation, and I’m helping them to escape. But we’re lost and we need help before the hunters’ dogs take up our smell.”

  The three men stared at Ben. Turban Man said, “Okay, I go with you to find these slaves. Better be there, boy, you hear me?”

  Ben led the way back through the slight path he had made. When Jesse saw him coming, he stood and smiled. “Bess, we’s got comp’ny. Our own kind.”

  Turban Man held out a hand for Jesse to shake. He looked down at Bess and Josiah. “So, this white boy tellin’ the truth? He helpin’ you escape?”

  Jesse said, “Yeh, he got us this far, but dogs and hunters on our trail. You know some place we can hide?”

  The man with the turban smiled broadly. “Yas, we gots a safe house for you. Come, we need to hurry, sun be up afore long.”

  Turban Man, whose name was Obediah, and his two friends Nimrod and Cuffy, took Ben and the others to a house the three shared with their wives and children. It was large but dingy inside, with rough-hewn walls that had never seen paint or wallpaper. The furniture was old, shabby, and sagging. Splintered boards covered a broken window in an attempt to keep out the wind and rain. Even so, with an inviting aroma of soup cooking in the kitchen, the whole house seemed warm and comfortable. Ben felt safe here.

  Obediah led the way through the house to a windowless bedroom that contained nothing but quilts and blankets piled haphazardly on several cots.

  “You sleep here. Later, we talk about what you to do.” He smiled and closed the door.

  Ben and his friends were exhausted, and it only took moments for them all to be deep into sleep.

  Several hours later, the feeling of safety disappeared when loud shouting and a pounding on the outside door awakened Ben. Gunshots followed.

  Chapter Ten

  Nimrod came into the room with his finger to his lips. “Hush now. You be very quiet, hunters and dogs at front door. Wife come in and tell you what to do soon.”

  Ben whispered, “I heard gunshots. What’s going on?”

  “No worries. Hunters showing off, hope to scare us. Stay here.” Nimrod left, quietly closing the door behind him.

  The noise of many people walking around inside the house laughing and talking kept getting louder. Shortly after Nimrod spoke to them, the door opened, and a young woman slipped in with pants, shirts, and heavy knit caps which she handed to Ben.

  “Here, you men change into these. Quickly, now! They goes on over your clothes, ’cause we needs them back.” She spoke very quietly.

  As Ben and Jesse were putting the clothes on, Ben said, “Can you tell us what’s happening outside? Are the hunters still there?”

  “Yes, but no worry. Our friends come in, sit down, play games, eat, and go out. They do this for many long hours when hunters are here. The hunters aren’t after anybody for certain, they’s just here to look, see if somebody’s look suspicious, that’s all. You go out one at a time, walk ’round with friends, leave with friends. Friends show you where to go. Hunters don’t know you’re not one of us, so they don’t follow you.”

  The girl put a wooden bowl down on the bed. Ben stared at the nasty looking mash of something black and smelling like garlic. He wrinkled his nose. “What is that?”

  She took his hand and pulled him to the bed. “You sit. This bowl full of ashes and garlic juice. I rub it all over your face, you now black boy.”

  Ben groaned. “Oh, that smells awful. Do I have to?”

  She put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Hey, white boy, you want to get out of here without them dogs findin’ you? This stuff turn your face black, and stink keep dogs away. Pull hat down, pull muffler up, nobody knows you a white boy.”

  Ben sighed, and sat quietly. The girl gently rubbed the ashes all over his face, ears and neck. When she was through, she stood back and surveyed him. “Yah, that be pretty good. Only red hair say you be a white boy. We push the hat down far, pull muffler up to your eyes, no one knows. But you don’t look at nobody straight on or your light colored eyes tell the truth.”

  Ben’s heart pounded. He knew if the hunters got a glimpse of his hair or green eyes it would be over for all of them. He put his heavy jacket on over the ragged pants the woman had brought, wrapped the muffler so high he could barely see over it, and pulled the cap down over his curly hair as far as he could. He turned the jacket collar up over the edge of the muffler and pulled on his gloves.

  Bess looked at him and smiled. “It’s okay, Ben. Nobody can tell you not one of us.”

  Ben hesitated, before asking the girl, “Uh, the hunters…do you know if they’re looking for us?”

  She shook her head. “The hunters come here all the time, always lookin’ ’cause they know we be freed colored folks. But they never find nobody to take back. No worries, white boy, you be fine.”

  The girl led him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. A long wide table held platters of roasted pig, cornbread, apples, and sweet biscuits surrounded by jars of jam. A huge pot of the soup Ben had smelled earlier sat in the middle of the feast. The spicy smell of pork filled Ben’s nostrils and made his stomach protest in hunger. She held his hand and led him out to the large parlor, which was so crowded with people milling about, smoking and eating the food from the kitchen that he didn’t see how even one more would fit. Some of the men cracked jokes and laughed loudly, as others gathered around small tables, playing cards, checkers, or chess. In one corner, several small children attempted to dance a jig to the screechy music that came from the fiddle another man was playing.

  Women clustered in groups, talking and eating. More children were running around, playing some kind of tag game, and Ben had never seen so many colored
people in one place in his life.

  The girl gave him a push, and he became part of the crowd in the middle of the room. Smoke from corncob pipes turned the air blue, and the odor of so many bodies in one small space made Ben sneeze. Someone slipped some apples into his jacket pocket, and someone else handed him a thick slab of cornbread wrapped in brown paper. He felt a small hand slip a heavy packet into the other pocket. A large arm went around his shoulders, another was around his waist and in a few seconds he was outside the house and surrounded by a swarm of almost identically dressed bodies.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see several hunters standing around, looks of disgust on their faces. The hounds were all lying down, dispiritedly watching the crowd of people going into the house and coming out. The coloreds were all laughing and talking loudly, walking in pairs or groups of three or four with their arms around one another’s waist or shoulders. The women wore ankle-length skirts with long sleeved blouses, heavy jackets, and large hand knit scarves over their heads and around their shoulders. The men were also dressed alike, in ragged pants, heavy homespun shirts, and bulky jackets. They all wore floppy hats and mufflers up to their eyes. It was impossible to single any one person out. Ben dropped his head even farther and allowed himself to be carried forward.

  A short time later, everyone stopped, the arms dropped away from his. Obediah said, “You be safe here. Your friends come later, one by one. We need clothes back to give to other someones when they come.”

  Ben took the clothes off and handed them to Obediah.

  “Thank you for all this. What happens now? Can someone show us the way to the river?”

  “No, we all got to stay here, you’s not the only ones we help. Go north through the woods, you come to a road that takes you to a town. Lotsa Quakers there, they help you more. You be careful, white boy. Remember big star near the moon is North Star, so you follow that.”