Billy Boy

by Jean Mary Flahive

  Anna tugged on his arm. “We will go in this coach. It is not yet full.”

  Billy looked over his shoulder. “That marshal’s coming this way, Miss Anna.”

  She pulled him close. “He is only looking about at the passengers. But thee must let me do the talking.”

  “Good evening,” the provost marshal said as he tipped his hat to Anna and glanced at Billy.

  “And a pleasant evening to you, sir.” Anna’s face broke into a wide smile.

  “You folks from around here?”

  “About a day’s ride,” Anna said quickly. “We’re on our way to Philadelphia to visit my mother.”

  The provost marshal gave Billy a long appraising stare before he turned and looked over Billy’s shoulder. “That your slave?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Own a big farm, young man?” he asked.

  “Reckon.”

  “Where?”

  “Uh, Porter’s Corner.”

  “Hardly a day’s ride,” he said, looking perplexed.

  “If you will excuse us, sir, we do need to hurry and find seats together—I’m sure you understand,” Anna said.

  The provost marshal shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll not delay you. A pleasant journey.”

  “Hurry along with the trunk, Daniel!” Anna called, rushing Billy up the platform steps and into the car.

  Elijah’s new shirt was soaked with sweat, and felt sticky and cold against his back. Shifting the weight of the trunk across his shoulders, he stole a glance at the white man in the blue uniform. He had to pass in front of him to get to the train. Nerves raw, he lowered his head and started by. Almost there. Put the trunk on the train. Up these steps now. He placed his foot on the metal step. One more … almost there.

  Smoke billowed and steam hissed down the platform. A shrill whistle pierced Elijah’s ears, startling him. He fell against the car, knocking the trunk from his shoulder. The trunk thumped noisily onto the plaza, bounced, and landed on its side at the provost marshal’s feet.

  Elijah’s eyes swept the platform. White folk all turned to look at him. His temples throbbed. Confusion pulsed through his head. Elijah be whupped now. Yes, suh! Be whupped good. He spun around and turned away from the trunk, the voices in his head screaming to run. He pushed himself away from the car.

  Suddenly Billy was beside him, grabbing his arm, pulling him up the platform steps, and into the car. Elijah stumbled on the steps, got back on his feet, and in seconds was inside. Then Miss Anna was in front of him, taking his arm, guiding him onto a hard bench. He moved into the seat, turned, and looked for Billy. He was nowhere to be seen.

  Elijah jumped to his feet. “Billy, suh!”

  “Sit back down, Daniel!” Anna hissed. Elijah glanced out the window across the aisle. Where was Billy?

  The train lurched forward.

  We goin’! Elijah don’t go without Billy, suh! He leaped again from his seat. Anna moved quickly in front of him, blocking the aisle and his view of the plaza. The train screeched over the rails. Elijah’s heart beat rapidly against his chest. Then Elijah saw him.

  Sweat dripped down Billy’s brow as he landed inside, the trunk banging against the seats jerking him sideways. Gasping for breath, he stumbled down the aisle and lowered the trunk onto the floor beside Elijah. Relief washed across Elijah’s face.

  Anna pushed Billy into the empty seat across the aisle and settled in beside him.

  “Thee did well, Billy,” Anna whispered. She leaned over and peered out the window. Billy looked out onto the plaza. The provost marshal was walking beside the car. Anna had spotted him, too.

  “Can’t this train move any faster?” Anna whispered through gritted teeth.

  As Billy watched, a wiry man pushed through the crowd on the platform, grabbed the provost marshal by his sleeve, and pointed his finger wildly at their window. His face, scarred with pockmarks, was familiar. It was one of them fellas from Rockville who chased them into the barn!

  The train whistled its exit. Billy pressed his face against the window, steam and smoke partially clouding his view. His heavy breathing fogged the inside pane. Using his shirtsleeve, Billy frantically rubbed the glass and peered through the opening. He saw the provost marshal reach into his breast pocket and yank out a piece of paper, reading it out loud. The man from Rockville nodded his head.

  “Dear God!” Anna whispered under her breath. “Who is that man with him?” Anna turned to Billy. “What can this be?”

  “Daniel a good boy, missus,” Elijah cried out. “Daniel don’t want no whuppin’.”

  Billy and Anna spun around in their seats. Stern-faced passengers stared coldly at them. Anna shuddered and leaned across the aisle. “Hush, Daniel, I am not angry,” she whispered. Turning her back to the passengers, she handed Elijah the cloth-wrapped pie. “Eat this warm pie and try to rest.”

  Then, smoothing the folds of her skirt and adjusting her hat, she nodded at the glaring faces. “Thee must try not to look worried, Billy,” she said as she leaned her back into the seat. “That man with the provost marshal—perhaps it had nothing to do with us.”

  In a trembling voice Billy told Anna about the pock-faced man. She listened, cinnamon eyes never wavering from his. When he finished, Anna placed her gloved hand on Billy’s arm. Her voice was calm. “Baltimore is a large city, and the train stations are most always very busy. If need be, we can lose ourselves easily in the crowd. Do not be afraid,” she said. “I wish to sit quietly now and wait upon the Lord.”

  She handed Billy a meat pie and then bowed her head.

  It was easy to believe her, Billy thought. The whole time he was talking, Anna never once looked scared. Maybe things were going to be all right. He glanced across the aisle. Elijah was picking at the morsels of his pie. Billy eagerly reached for his own.

  Chapter 19

  “We’re coming into Baltimore—Camden Station. But we do not get off here,” Anna said. “We’ll be changing railroads for Philadelphia. Our car will be pulled by horses along the rail lines to the other station on President Street,” she explained.

  Billy looked confused. “Horses?”

  Anna smiled. “I know it sounds strange, but the steam engine is too noisy to operate within the city—it scares other animals. And the embers from the locomotive can set off fires, so the car is pulled by horses.” She leaned over in the seat and gazed out the car window.

  “There are no civilian guards waiting to meet this train,” she said with relief in her voice. “I hope we will move quickly to the other station. The railroads are under military control now, and with so many unscheduled stops for troops and supplies, there’s no way of knowing if a train will leave at its posted schedule.”

  Billy pressed his face against the glass, cupping his hands around his eyes. Under the gaslights’ yellow glow, rows of Union soldiers sat on the platform floor, their backs slumped against the station wall. Knapsacks and muskets lay at their feet. A heavyset soldier with curly brown hair passed in front of the other men. Then he stopped and, opening his knapsack, pulled out a piece of hardtack. For a fleeting moment the soldier reminded Billy of Leighton. A sharp pain stabbed Billy’s heart.

  “I see the station’s provost marshal—he’s hurrying down the platform,” Anna said. “Wait; he is walking to the locomotive on the other rail.”

  Billy shifted his gaze, following the direction of her finger as she tapped on the window. The provost marshal stopped beside the engine car on the opposite track, shaking his head, his hands resting on his hips. On the top of the car, men hunched over the brake wheel. Billy watched as the provost marshal cupped his hands and shouted. Seconds later, a workman looked over the roof of the car, climbed down the ladder, and walked toward him, wiping a blackened hand across his brow.

  “That must be the engineer,” said Anna.

  “Provost marshal’s sore at him, I’m thinkin’,” Billy said quietly. The engineer shook his head back and forth, his hands moving wildly as he shouted back at
the officer. The provost marshal pointed to the soldiers packed along the plaza. Then he pulled something out of his jacket—a pocket watch—and in a mocking gesture held it in front of the engineer’s face.

  The car jerked forward.

  Billy fell backward onto the seat. Anna laughed.

  “Why you laughin’, Miss Anna?” he asked, a hurtful look on his face.

  “I’m happy, Billy! We’re on our way to the other station, and we didn’t have to deal with that provost marshal. It seems he is much too busy trying to get the troops out of his station.”

  Billy watched the lights of the city grow dim as horses ploddingly pulled the train to the next station. The car was not nearly as crowded as it had been, and behind him a young couple seemed unconcerned about the slave sitting across the aisle. Shortly after arriving at the station, and after a few more passengers came on board, the car was hooked back up to an engine, and the train moved off. Anna opened her handbag and pulled out a small green book.

  “You gonna read, Miss Anna?” Billy asked.

  “Would thee like to look at this book?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am.” Embarrassed, he turned his face back to the window.

  “It’s the prose works of John Greenleaf Whittier, a Quaker abolitionist from Boston.” Anna touched Billy’s hand. “Would thee like me to read to thee?”

  He nodded shyly and watched as she turned to a page marked with a ribbon.

  “I was reading a poem called ‘Yankee Girl.’ It is about a young girl and a southern master. Here is the last verse:

  “Full low at thy bidding thy negroes may kneel,

  With the iron of bondage on spirit and heel;

  Yet know that the Yankee girl sooner would be

  In fetters with them, than in freedom with thee!”

  Billy was silent. How could he tell Miss Anna that he didn’t understand the poem? After a long pause, he said, “Them words is real nice.”

  “It is also what I feel in my heart.”

  “You thinkin’ things is all right now, Miss Anna?”

  “Evil lurks in every corner, Billy. Even though we have been safe thus far, I will remain ever vigilant when we arrive in Philadelphia. It is a lesson Mr. Whittier speaks about in his book, The Little Pilgrim, when as a young boy he hooks a fish only to lose his prize in the middle of the stream. His uncle warns the young Whittier to ‘never brag of catching a fish until he is on dry ground.’ ”

  “Elijah caught us some fish in Goose Creek when we was hidin’ and all. Speared ’em good. Then tossed them fishes right on the dry ground—”

  “Remember, Billy, no talk about Elijah.” She turned back to her little book.

  Billy waited for Anna to read out loud again, but she remained silent. He leaned his head against the glass and looked back across the aisle. Elijah was sitting silently, looking out the window, trying not to call any attention to himself. Billy thought about whittling and then remembered he had no wood. Leaning back against the window, he closed his eyes.

  When he awoke, endless rows of gaslights were flashing past his window. He tugged gently on Anna’s arm. “Miss Anna,” he whispered, reluctant to disturb her sleep. “Miss Anna,” he whispered again. “Train’s coming into Philadelphia, I’m thinkin’.” He tugged a little harder.

  Anna opened her eyes, sat up straighter, and looked out.

  She turned and glanced at Elijah, all the while hastily refastening her hair into a bun. She whispered to him, “When we arrive at the station I will hire a carriage so we can go directly to the Anti-Slavery Society office. I know the hour is late, but Mr. Still is expecting us. Thee will stay with Mr. Still. Billy and I will go to my mother’s home for the night.”

  “Ain’t I gonna see Elijah no more?”

  “It’s Daniel, Billy,” Anna reminded him. Billy winced.

  “We will return tomorrow afternoon. I suspect the Vigilance Committee will want to interview Elijah as soon as possible.”

  The brakes screeched as the train slowed its approach into the station. Anna stood, straightening her dress. “This is the Southern and Western Station—on the corner of Broad and Prime streets. It’s old, far from the taverns and hotels.”

  The train lurched forward and came to a jolting stop. The car bustled as passengers stretched their limbs and gathered their baggage, moving hurriedly into the now-crowded center aisle. A station attendant opened the car door and set the platform steps in place. A dry, cold wind off the river drifted across the rail yard, finding its way into the stuffy car. Anna moved quickly to the front, poked her head out the door, and scanned the gaslit plaza. Cautiously she stepped out.

  “The provost marshal for this station is standing outside on the plaza,” she whispered to Billy as he moved in behind her. “He seems to be studying the people leaving the cars.” Anna stepped back, pressing her body against the nearest bench, allowing the crush of passengers to pass in front of her. When the car was nearly empty, Anna moved to the steps, motioning Billy and Elijah to follow.

  The crowd thinned as people rushed to trolley cars and horse-drawn carriages waiting on the street. Billy spotted the provost marshal pacing the plaza, intently watching the last handful of passengers milling near the train. Grateful for the gaslights’ dim glow, Billy hurried beside Anna. Behind him, Elijah burrowed his face against the trunk carried on his shoulders.

  A voice shouted. “Hold on just a minute, over there!”

  Billy stopped suddenly, his heart thudding against his chest. From the corner of his eye, he saw the provost marshal staring in his direction. “Miss Anna …”

  “We must not act in haste,” she whispered. She turned and nodded her head at the provost marshal, tucking her arm around Billy in a casual gesture, and kept walking.

  “Miss Anna,” Billy said, barely able to choke out the words, “he’s coming our way.”

  “I said hold on!” the provost marshal shouted. Suddenly, he was rushing toward them. “Langford! Burns! It’s them all right—they match the description the provost marshal in Endicott Mills telegraphed to us. Over here!”

  “Dear God! They are looking for thee, Billy!” Anna’s face paled in the yellow light. “Thee must run! Run to the river and hide there!”

  “Miss Anna!”

  Anna yanked her arm away from the crook of Billy’s elbow and gave him a shove. “Go! There is no time! Remember what I told thee. Elijah, run!”

  The trunk toppled from Elijah’s shoulders.

  “What the bejesus!” The provost marshal stopped suddenly, spun around, and shouted over his shoulder. “Langford! Burns! They’re on the run!”

  Startled travelers scurried out of their way as Billy and Elijah sprinted down the length of the platform. Billy leaped over a trunk, nearly stumbled, caught his balance, and ran out onto the gravel beside the tracks. Elijah ran past him and, turning away from the rails, disappeared between the cars.

  “Billy, suh! Come!” He caught up with Elijah and they scrambled onto the far rails and ran into the starless night just as two guards wielding guns ran out of the station.

  “The river, Elijah!” Billy screamed. “Miss Anna said run to the river!”

  Behind them, shots fired in the darkness.

  Billy followed as Elijah leaped over the tracks and crashed into dense thicket. He heard the guards scrambling noisily over the couplings, then the crush of their boots smashing through the bushes. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, Billy lost his footing and fell, his knee landing on a rock. Pain shot through him, and he rolled over onto his back, his hand clutching his knee. “Elijah!”

  They could hear the rasp of heavy breathing as Elijah reached down and pulled Billy to his feet, urging him forward. The pain when Billy’s foot touched the ground was excruciating, and he cried out. “Can’t bend my knee!”

  The shouts and stomping boots were getting closer.

  “Billy, suh, get down on your belly and don’t make no sound,” Elijah whispered as he crouched down on his knees. Sudden
ly all went quiet. They could still hear the guards breathing, only inches away. Silently, Elijah’s fingers fanned the ground. He clawed a stone from the soil, pulled back his arm, and heaved it toward the tracks.

  Glass shattered.

  Boots scraped in front of Elijah.

  “They’re back at the train! Broke a window!”

  Dirt sprayed Elijah’s face as the guard retreated.

  “You step light as a feather now, Billy, suh,” Elijah whispered as he pulled Billy to his feet. He wrapped Billy’s arm around his shoulder and moved into the cover of the trees. Pine needles cushioned their steps as they darted around the trunks, hiding, listening for returning footsteps in the pitch black. Every few seconds Elijah stopped to listen.

  In a short distance they emerged onto a wide stretch of tangled brush and cattails. Their boots sank in the soft earth. Elijah pushed ahead of Billy, staying low, motioning for him to follow as they worked their way cautiously through the thicket, ever listening.

  The underbrush opened to a muddied riverbank rife with litter. Squealing rats scattered through the rotting garbage, trash, and broken glass. The air was foul. Billy placed a hand over his nose.

  “Billy, suh, we stay here for a time.” Elijah helped Billy settle onto the ground, pushing away the litter, tossing handfuls of sand over the stinking debris around them. It was eerily quiet as Billy and Elijah sat and stared at the Schuylkill River. A lone steamer, a side-wheeler, floated by, the ship’s lanterns fluttering in the cold wind. In the near distance, a steam locomotive whistled.

  “Elijah ain’t never gon’ ride no train again, no suh,” he said in a half-whisper. He leaned back on his elbows. “Billy, suh, you take good care of Elijah on the train.”

  “Weren’t nuthin’,” Billy said, rubbing the swelling on his knee.

  “You done good, Billy, suh.” Elijah slapped him lightly on the back. He stood and kicked the sand with his boots, finally bending over and picking up a long, thick stick. Breaking the stick’s jagged ends, he handed it to Billy. “Stick help you walk. We move on now.”