Slave Girl

by Patricia C. McKissack

  Day or so later

  My head hurts. My arms and legs hurt. Even my teeth hurt. I can’t write any more.

  Early February

  I don’t know what day of the week it is. They tell me I’ve been sick with an awful fever. Aunt Tee and Spicy used teas and salves – but it was Mama’s love that pulled me through.

  Whilst I was in a fever, dreaming, Mama come to me all soft and gentle. “Get well, daughter. Live and grow strong.” Then she told me something that’s really got me studying on the meaning. She say something Rufus used to always say, “To the one God gives much, much is asked in return.” Then I saw Rufus standing with Mama. He say, “You have been given much, Clotee. You can read and write, when others can’t. Now, you must put your learning to good use. Use your learning.”

  Use it to do what?

  Week later

  I’m feeling better every day. Still wobbly. I’m back working in the kitchen and Big House.

  After the dishes were done from the midday meal, I walked to the woods. It’s not nearly as cold as it has been. Most of the snow is melted. I passed the cemetery and spent a minute with Uncle Heb, and I remembered Rufus and Aggie, Wook and Baby Noah who never got a chance to live. Then I moved down toward the river.

  I wrote F-R-E-E-D-O-M in the mud. It still has no picture. Maybe my dream meant that I should run to freedom up in the Philadelphia, the New York or the Boston, and then use my reading and writing to help the abolitionists. Is that what I should do, Mama? How would I run away?

  Monday

  I know it’s Monday because Miz Lilly come to the kitchen to pass out the flour, sugar and meal. She gave Missy a pretty scarf to wear on her head. Then she swished past me with her head in the air. Suddenly I got an understanding. Miz Lilly is like a spoiled, silly girl – playing silly games with people’s lives. She’s like a little girl in a big woman’s body. Pitiful.

  Tuesday

  It’s a winter thaw. Day was almost warm. But Aunt Tee say it’s a fooler. I wandered down to the spot where I had seen Mr Harms talking to the one-eyed man. No reason. Just did.

  I heard the crackle of leaves underfoot. I stopped, stood dead still, listening, waiting – for what I didn’t know.

  “Clotee. Over here. It’s me, Mr Harms.”

  I was sure glad to see Mr Harms and I told him so. He wondered why I had come to that place just then. “I don’t know, sir. I just came.” I’ll always b’lieve Mama guided me there. “I thought you would be in the Boston by now,” I said.

  “No,” he said, laughing. “But this is my last run. My partner and I are too well-known in the Tidewater. I’ll move on after we take the next group out.”

  “Who will be the conductor here at Belmont?” I asked him.

  “We won’t have a conductor here. That’s too bad. Belmont is an important link in the railroad.”

  The abolitionists will find someone, won’t they?

  I pulled myself tall. “Sir, I want to go with you to freedom. I’ll work hard and help the abolitionists in any way I can. Please say I can come.”

  “Clotee, you don’t have to beg. Of course you can come. Be here on the next dark of the moon. Bring fresh water but travel light – bring only what you need. It is a dangerous journey, Clotee. But you are no stranger to danger. You are a remarkable girl, and we abolitionists will be proud to have you in our ranks.”

  Mr Harms hugged me. “Take care, little Clotee. Thank Spicy for what she did. I have a feeling you were in on it, too.” I nodded. “Tell Hince I hold no hard feelings. In his shoes I might have done the same thing.” Then, “If possible, find some way to say thank you to William.”

  Wednesday

  I’ve told Aunt Tee and Spicy about seeing Mr Harms and how he was planning another runaway on the next dark of the moon. But as hard as I try, I can’t get Aunt Tee to go with me. Spicy wants to go, though, because Hince is going to be leaving soon as his papers clear.

  “I’m too old, chile,” say Aunt Tee. “Besides, I can’t leave Uncle Heb. I lived with him. I’ll be buried ’side of him, too. But you go on, honey. Go to that freedom here on earth.”

  Going without Aunt Tee? That would be like losing Mama again.

  Next day

  The Campbelles came to Belmont on their way back to the Deep South. “We’ve come for our property,” said Silas Campbelle.

  “He’s a free man,” said Mas’ Henley.

  I must have polished all the brass off the mas’er’s doorknob trying to hear what was being said.

  “You had no right to sell what didn’t belong to you.”

  “Take me to court,” said Mas’ Henley.

  “We’ll do just that.” said the Campbelles and they stormed out of the house.

  Now what do we do?

  Monday again

  Since Mr Harms got run away, Miz Lilly been trying to teach William so he can get into Overton School. Unteach is better to say. William won’t have none of it. He gets about nicely with two canes. Pretty soon, he’ll be walking without them.

  When William saw me watching from the hallway, he waved. Later, I stopped by his room. He was playing with Shadow.

  “If Mr Harms had had time, he would have said thank you,” I said.

  “I’m sure he would have,” said William.

  I think the message got through.

  Week later

  I write this with a heavy heart. The judge ruled that Hince was not free because he didn’t b’long to Mas’ Henley when he freed him. “The free papers he wrote aine worth a lame horse.”

  The Campbelles are coming to get Hince Monday-week on their way back south. I’ve cried dry. Aunt Tee and Spicy have, too. We got to stop crying and start thinking.

  Monday (I hope)

  Just when you get to thinking that times can’t get no worse, something else happens. The weather’s like that, too – fooled us into believing spring was almost here, but it snowed again today, all day.

  While I was dusting Mas’ Henley’s study, I come across a paper that say he was selling Spicy to a man named Mobile, Alabama. They are coming for her on Tuesday-week.

  Spicy and Hince say they won’t be separated – rather be dead first. Talk like that makes a cold chill go up my back.

  “What we gon’ do?” Spicy asked me, right pitiful-like. “You the one had the idea that saved Mr Harms. Can’t you think of a way to help me and Hince?”

  There are abolitionists and conductors on the underground railroad who want to help us – but we aine got time to wait on them. This time, we got to do it ourselves. We got to make an ’scape plan.

  Saturday

  I was reading Spicy’s Bible when I turned to a page where somebody had written, “My baby girl was born on February 28, 1844.”

  I showed it to Spicy. “Mama must’a wrote that in the Bible,” she say, touching the words with her fingers. “She could read and write like you, Clotee.”

  “Like you, too, Spicy. You done learned how to write your name and lots of words. With a little more practicing you’ll be writing real good.”

  “My mama wanted to name me Rose,” Spicy said.

  I wrote in Spicy’s Bible, Spicy’s real name is Rose.

  “Do you believe that everything in the Bible is true?” I asked. She nodded. “I wrote your real name in your Bible. The name your mama wanted you to be called. ROSE. From now on you are Rose.”

  Shortly after midnight, Sunday morning

  There is a terrible thunderstorm raging outside. We had to call off the run. But we have to go no later than tomorrow.

  Monday

  I put my plan to work at first light. We dressed Spicy as a boy slave. I gave her a bundle. “It’s our quilt,” I told her. “You should keep it.” She didn’t have time to fuss with me about it.

  Hince looks so much like a white man, we dressed him in one of Mas’ Henley old suits I sneaked out of the attic. “I aine never had on a suit of clothes before,” he said. We tucked Spicy’s Bible under his arm. “You lo
ok like a for-real preaching man,” said Aunt Tee, hugging them both and giving them a biscuit and water for a day.

  Time to go. “You know what to do, now?”

  Just as we planned, we slipped down to the barn, Hince mounted Big Can. Being very careful not to make a sound, I eased them through the woods, past the cemetery, toward the river. I had already done my hugging and farewelling, so I just watched them ride downstream along the bank until they was out of sight.

  I slipped back on the other side of the orchards, into the cabin where Aunt Tee and I sat holding each other until dawn. By then I had stopped trembling.

  Tuesday

  Hince and Spicy wasn’t missed until the Campbelles come for Hince on Monday. Mas’ Henley crashed into Aunt Tee’s cabin, wanting us to tell him where Hince and Spicy had gone.

  Aunt Tee stayed calm. “We don’t know a thing ’bout that. We all went to sleep together and when we woke up same as you, they was gone.”

  “I don’t believe a word, you’re saying. I don’t trust any of you,” he shouted and carried on.

  The Campbelles didn’t seem too upset. “We’ll take Canterbury’s Watch, then.” But when they went to get the horse it, too, was gone. Then the Campbelles say that Mas’ Henley was trying to cheat them. They say they was gon’ take him to court.

  Mas’ Henley went to talking fast. “I’ll pay you for your losses,” he said, adding, “and for whatever inconven – (whatever that big word was) I may have caused you.”

  “Cash,” said Silas Campbelle. “No marker.”

  Long ’bout that time, the slavers come for Spicy. “The boy and gal have run away,” Mas’ Henley told them. He had to pay the slavers back their money for Spicy.

  I was beside myself with joy – joy in the morning. Serves him good. William and Miz Lilly came out on the porch. People from the Quarters were also gathering to see what was going on. Miz Lilly swooned, but nobody bothered to catch her when she fainted.

  Mas’ Henley and Waith set out to find Spicy and Hince but they are long gone. I was as happy as Daniel and David all in one.

  Next day

  I studied the sun today. It’s different. I feel that winter is almost over. We will have more cold days, but the bitter times are over. We’ve made it through – in more ways than one.

  Next day

  Mas’ Henley come back after a search saying he had found and killed both Spicy and Hince. He showed no proof. Besides, where was Big Can? If he’d really caught them, he’d have brought back the horse, for sure. I don’t believe him. I won’t believe him. Spicy and Hince made it. If they hadn’t, I’d feel it.

  Day later

  The Dark of the Moon is coming. It will be time for me to make my run to freedom. I should be happy. I’m an abolitionist and I want to end slavery. I can’t do that being a slave on a plantation. Can I?

  Later

  Mr Harms says there’s no conductor on the Underground Railroad here at Belmont. If this station closes, what will happen to the runaways coming through here? Some might get caught. Some might get drowned like Rufus, Aggie, Wook and Baby Noah. But if they had somebody here to help them – to show them the way…

  Later

  This station can’t close.

  Dark of the moon

  A moonless night is scary, ’specially in the woods when it’s cloudy.

  I sang the Underground Railroad song – the one Mr Harms said to signal him with.

  Deep river, Lord. I want to cross over

  Mr Harms met me as planned, rising up out of the darkness like a ghost. I felt better when I saw the runaways huddled together, fearing what was behind, fearing what was in front of them.

  “Spicy and Hince aine going,” I say, telling him how I’d helped them to get away.

  “I’ve heard ’bout their getaway.” Mr Harms already knew about it?

  “Have you heard if they safe?” My heart was pounding from wondering and worrying. I rather know a bad thing than to not know it.

  “Our conductors tell me Spicy and Hince are in northern waters on their way to Canada. Where’d you come up with such a good idea?” he asked, smiling.

  It seemed easy enough to me. Hince passed as a white man, travelling with his slave. When they got to Richmond, Hince sold Canterbury’s Watch – to a kind man who will give Can a good home. I had made out the papers to show the horse had been sold to Hince Henley, a cousin of Mas’ Henley’s. I’d copied his signature, too.

  Hince used the money to buy tickets on the first steamship heading north, just like I told him.

  “Some of our people who were on the boat said Hince had won a large amount of money gambling with a group of wealthy young men who found him quite charming.” I can just see him now, teasing, smiling. They never suspected he was a runaway slave.

  “Now it’s time to get you out of here, Clotee,” said Mr Harms.

  “Have you found a person to be the conductor here at Belmont?”

  “No we haven’t.”

  “I’m not going with you, now. I want to stay here and be a conductor on the Underground Railroad at this station.”

  Next night

  I didn’t sleep last night and when I did it was fitful. Had I done the right thing? I kept seeing Mama’s face. She was smiling and that made me feel better.

  Mr Harms made me promise to meet him at the river again tonight. I did.

  “It is too dangerous for you to be a conductor,” said Mr Harms. “You’re just a child.”

  “I’m young, sir, all due respect, but I’m not a child,” I told him. “I’m an abolitionist. And I’m needed. Anyway, it was my idea that saved you from the sheriff. It was my plan that got Spicy and Hince away. I can do it.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt that you’re up to the job,” said Mr Harms. “You are a remarkable young lady, and I’m proud of you. But don’t you want to be free?”

  I had talked this over with myself long and hard, so I knew what I felt. “Yes sir, I want to be free. But most of all I want slavery to end for everybody. I read in one of your papers that it’s not right for anybody to be slaves. So, that’s why I want to stay – to make an end to slavery.”

  Mr Harms looked surprised and pleased. “You have a better understanding of freedom than most people do,” said Mr Harms. It was my time to look surprised. “Freedom is about making choices and learning from them,” he said. “You’ve made the choice to stay here. The conductor’s job is yours as long as you want it. But remember,” he added, “the first sign of trouble you must get out of here. Promise?” I promised.

  April 1860

  I haven’t written in a long time … one month, maybe. Since I’m not in the Big House, it’s hard for me to get paper to add to my diary. But I can scratch in the dirt, and I do. Practising and teaching others.

  William is going off to school in Missouri, and Miz Lilly is trying to die, because it aine Overton. I got a feeling that boy was really ’fected by Mr Harms, more than anybody will ever know – other than me. Who knows, William might end up being an abolitionist. Now wouldn’t that take the cake?

  Mas’ Henley finally got tired of eating Eva Mae’s bad cooking. He sent her back to the fields, then brought in a new cook from New Orleans. Uses lots of peppers. Nobody will ever be as good as Aunt Tee at cooking fried chicken and whipped potatoes. And he knows it.

  Miz Lilly has made Missy her pet. Missy don’t speak and never comes to the Quarters not even to see her mama. Missy wears all kinds of pretty dresses but she can’t be too happy – not living under Miz Lilly day after day.

  Aunt Tee is busy all the time – picking wild greens, making potions, birthing babies – and helping me make plans for runaways. A group will be passing through Belmont in a few days.

  Full moon, April, 1860

  Aunt Tee sang the signal –

  Swing low, sweet chariot,

  Coming for to carry me home

  A group of three runaways found their way to the Belmont station tonight. One of them was a girl
about ten. She was so scared. I pressed Little Bit in her hand. “She will keep you company,” I said. The girl managed a weak smile. I had their passes written. Aunt Tee had their food and water ready.

  Soon, a man dressed in black rowed up to the bank, making not a splash with his oars. “Come quickly.” He was my partner, but we’d never talked or seen each other. Safer that way. He sounded like a foreigner. “See you next time,” he said. I never saw his face. Quickly and quietly the runaways got in the boat and rowed away. I don’t think I took a breath until they were out of sight.

  Sitting here next to Aunt Tee in the cabin I feel good about staying for now. One day I’ll see the Philadelphia, the New York and the Boston. Maybe I’ll make my own run for freedom next year – or maybe the next. Until then I have plenty of work to do.

  Next day

  I have just enough paper and berry ink to write one more time.

  The morning bell will ring soon and I’ll have to go to the fields. There’s time to write a few words. I have decided to begin with F-R-E-E-D-O-M. Freedom. I let the memory pictures take shape in my mind. Mr Harms is safe and able to go on with his work. Hince and Spicy are free and together. I remembered the little girl I’d helped the night before and I smiled. My doll Little Bit would be free before me. Freedom. I remembered what Mr Harms had said about choices. I looked at the letters more closely. For the first time freedom showed me a clear picture.

  A picture of me.

  Into March

  We are turning the ground for the new crop – back-breaking work. I’m not as afraid as I once was. I don’t let my fear stop me from my work. I’ve started teaching a few trusted slaves to write. It’s scary, because I know if they are ever really put to a hard test, they will probably turn me in. But I can’t worry about that now. If I don’t teach them, who will?