Copper Sun
Page 15
“Has anybody ever succeeded?” Polly asked.
“Yes, chile. Far as I knows. They mighta got killed on their journey, but they never came back here, so in my mind, they got to the North safely.”
“What is North?” Amari wanted to know.
“North is where freedom lives, chile. They got slaves there, too, but I’ve heard tell of black folk livin’ up North with jobs they gets paid for and houses that belong to them, and don’t nobody own them at all!”
“So why don’t more slaves run away?” Polly asked.
“It’s hard to hide when yo’ skin is black and everybody else got white skin,” Teenie explained. “Now you, chile, could run off and fit right in. You could leave Myna and my Tidbit here and have you a chance to be free.”
“I’d never leave them!” Polly blurted before she could even think about it. Yet, once she said it, she knew it was true.
“Easy to say while we’s all locked up,” Teenie commented quietly.
“Do they chase runaway indentured servants as well?” Polly asked her.
“Couple of years back, Massa had a ’dentured boy who run off. Massa brung him back after a few days, and he put a iron collar round the boy’s neck so folks would know he was a runaway and not free to be on the roads.”
“Where this boy now?” Amari asked quietly, touching her neck, which still held the scars from her own iron chains.
“He drowned that summer—I believe he let that iron collar just take him on down,” Teenie told her.
“North,” Polly mused. “We could all be free.” She wondered what freedom would mean to Amari, who could never get back to what she had lost.
“Shhh, what that noise?” Amari suddenly whispered. They all heard it—a faint scratching on the back wall of the smokehouse. They all moved quietly to the back of the small room.
They heard the scratching again, then Cato’s whispered voice. “Y’all all right?” Polly smiled as she heard him clear his throat and cough.
“If they catch you here, they kill you for shure,” Teenie whispered to Cato.
“If they kill me, at least I be free at last. I ain’t worried ’bout it.” Cato laughed quietly. His voice got serious then. “Teenie, you got to let the boy go with them purty lil gals. Yo’ boy got a chance to be free.”
“How you figger?” Teenie asked, skepticism in her voice.
“Doc Hoskins don’t believe in no slavery.”
“How you knows this?” Teenie asked suspiciously.
“How many times I gotta tell you that I just knows stuff? Lissen, Doc Hoskins ain’t got it in him to sell nobody.”
“But Clay is going with us!” Polly exclaimed. “I think it would give him pleasure to see us sold.”
Teenie shifted her weight and handed Tidbit to Amari. “Hold him for a hot minute, chile. I got an idea.” To Cato she whispered, “Go to my kitchen. Look out back under that big rock by the persimmon tree. You’ll find a rag with a passel of seeds in it. Put just two seeds in Massa Clay’s midnight wine.” She was silent a moment. “Maybe three.”
Polly heard Cato grunt. “I hear you. You jest leave Clay up to ol’ Cato. Last I heard, he was down in the quarters beatin’ the sweet Jesus outta Sara Jane. I best hurry if I’m to fix him his usual bedtime glass o’ wine. Get the boy ready, Teenie,” he told her.
“I ain’t partin’ with my baby!” Teenie said emphatically.
“You wants that boy to be a slave like you? You wants to see him be gator bait again?”
Teenie groaned. Polly could almost touch the anguish in her voice. “I wants a better life for him, that’s for shure.”
“You gotta trust these gals and trust the good Lord and trust the spirits of hope,” Cato said philosophically, still whispering through the wall. “You gotta let him go. You gotta give the boy the chance to be free.”
“Cato,” Teenie called out in a strained voice.
“I be here,” Cato replied.
“Be real careful with them seeds. I’m gonna need a big pile of ’em soon. Yassuh, Massa Derby gonna have himself a right good meal pretty soon. I got a mind to fix him a stew he ain’t never gonna forget—ain’t ever gonna remember.”
Polly wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but Cato whispered in reply. “I hears you.”
Teenie took the sleeping child from Amari and held him closely.
Polly still could not see how leaving with the doctor in the morning, heading to the slave market, would lead to a chance for freedom.
Amari asked through the wall, “Where be North, Cato? Where is free?”
Cato answered clearly. “Do not go north. That’s where they be lookin’ for you.”
“That makes no sense,” Polly interjected. “What do you mean, don’t go north? If we go south, we get deeper and deeper into slave territory. Our only chance for freedom must be in the North!” Surely he could see that.
Cato repeated, “Do not go north. Tracker dogs search the roads headin’ north. Runaway papers be posted in the North.” He coughed again.
“Where we go?” Amari asked.
“Head south. Find a place called Fort Mose. It be in Spanish Florida. I hear tell it be a place of golden streets and fine wine. Spaniard folk run it, and any slave who get there be set free!”
“’Dentured gals, too?” Amari asked.
“The ways I hears it, the folks at Fort Mose got open arms to slaves, ’dentured folk, even Injuns!” Cato told them.
“It sounds too good to be true,” Polly commented.
“Ain’t nothing gooder than freedom,” Cato replied, almost too softly to be heard.
“Much danger?” Amari asked.
“Yes, chile, much danger. Swamps and alligators and bears and bugs to start, plus not knowin’ how to get there, plus the fear. It be a long, hard trip.”
“How we not get lost?” Amari asked, her voice trembling.
“Follow the river south, then leave it. All rivers run to sea, and you must travel by land. Stay way inland from the ocean. Else you have too many rivers to cross. That’s all I knows to tell you. When you find them streets of gold, think of ol’ Cato.” His footsteps and his cough disappeared into the night.
Polly leaned against the wall, trying to think. None of this makes any sense. Trying to escape by running south? Rivers? Bears? Swamps? Impossible! She wished desperately that she could ask her mother for advice or just curl up in her arms and not have to worry about difficult decisions.
But she sat on the dirt floor of a smokehouse, surrounded by the dried carcasses of two pigs, a cow, and a deer, feeling scared and powerless. She glanced at Amari, a girl who just a few months ago had seemed dirty and disgusting. Now they were caught up together in a situation that was so awful, she had to grab her head to erase the bloody images from her mind. Mr. Derby murdered a baby! What kind of man could do such a thing?
Polly watched as Amari, wrapped in her own private thoughts, finally slept. Teenie cradled her son, whispering to him, singing to him, telling him stories. She heard Teenie murmur over and over, “Long as you remember, chile, nothin’ ain’t really ever gone.”
Polly thought with compassion of Teenie’s sorrow and the anguish Mrs. Derby must be enduring right now—it was enough to drive someone mad. She wondered what the morning would bring.
30. TIDBIT’S FAREWELL
POLLY SHOOK HERSELF AWAKE AS SHE HEARD voices outside the smokehouse. Sunlight filtered through the slats of the wooden structure.
“Isabelle will recover quickly from the trauma of having a stillborn baby,” she heard Mr. Derby say. “Already she speaks of us having another child.”
The doctor’s voice sounded unconvinced. “Yes, of course. Make sure she gets plenty of rest.”
“I intend to keep a close eye on her,” Mr. Derby replied, his voice laced with barbs.
Polly poked Amari, who was still asleep on Teenie’s shoulder. Startled, Amari looked around in fear. Teenie, who perhaps had not slept at all, was whispering to Tidbit.
“Yes’m,” the boy replied, sounding as if he wasn’t sure why his mother was telling him all this now.
“You remember the drums that talked like thunder? And the sun that shone like copper over the valley? You remember what I tolt you ’bout my mama and how she grabbed a piece of her own mother to take with her?” Polly heard Teenie saying.
“Yes, Mama, I remembers,” Tidbit said, a whispering dread in his voice.
“You takes this piece of cloth, you hear, boy? Keep it safe, ’cause all my memories be tucked in it. You promise me you will never forget?” she asked him plaintively as she hugged him close to her. Polly watched her tie a leather string around the boy’s neck. A tiny leather pouch hung from it. Teenie tucked a colored piece of fabric into the packet and closed it tightly with a drawstring.
“I remembers it all, Mama,” Tidbit said, his voice sounding truly frightened now.
“You gonna grow to be a man—a free man.”
“I don’t wanna be no man,” Tidbit protested. “I just wants to be yo’ lil boy.”
“You gonna always be my baby boy,” Teenie said, though her voice was thick with grief. “Always.”
Polly thought back painfully to the night her mother died, how she had whispered to Polly with her last bit of strength, “You make yourself a lady, you hear, my darling? I will always be with you.” Polly knew that Teenie’s heart felt as if it were being slashed into pieces.
“You goin’ with us, Mama?” the child asked.
“I’ll be along directly,” Teenie lied. “You stay close to Myna and Polly till I gits there, you hear?” The boy agreed quietly, but he seemed to sense that something was wrong because he started crying. “You mind them and do what they says, you hear?”
“Yes’m,” Tidbit replied in a small voice.
They all heard the lock removed, and the bright sun shone in like a harsh surprise after the darkness of the smokehouse all night. Mr. Derby stood outside the door and called to them, “Come on out of there now. You have a long journey ahead of you, and, Teenie, I expect to have breakfast on the table in half an hour!”
“Yes, suh,” she replied sullenly as she emerged from the small room. Teenie squeezed Tidbit’s small hand tightly into hers. Amari and Polly came out next, blinking in the bright sunlight. When Amari reached for Polly’s hand, Polly took it.
The wagon stood hitched and ready. Dr. Hoskins sat on the seat, looking straight ahead, not at the hapless group standing near the wagon. Clay was nowhere to be seen.
“My son is ill,” Mr. Derby said to the doctor, “so I’ll entrust to you the transactions for the sale of these three.” The doctor nodded silently.
Polly and Amari exchanged looks. Evidently, Teenie’s seeds had been effective.
“Would you like me to check young Clay before I leave?” Dr. Hoskins asked halfheartedly.
“No, I believe he simply drank too much wine. He will sleep it off.”
Dr. Hoskins looked relieved. “I will make sure your money from the sale of these three is safely delivered to you by a courier from Charles Town. He will return with your wagon.”
“It’s good riddance to the lot of them,” Mr. Derby replied, a look of disgust on his face. To the frightened group in front of him he yelled, “Get in the wagon—and be quick about it!”
Polly climbed in first. “Yes, sir,” she whispered. It was the same wagon that she and Amari had arrived in. Amari climbed in behind her.
“Myna, take this child,” Mr. Derby commanded. He grabbed Tidbit from Teenie and slung the boy onto the wagon behind Amari.
Teenie exploded in grief. “Don’t take my baby! He my onliest child! Oh, Lawd, please don’t take my baby from me!” Tidbit, seeing his mother so upset, began to wail, reaching for her and trying to squirm out of Amari’s arms. Hushpuppy barked frantically, adding to the uproar.
Mr. Derby, his face red, slashed at the dog with his whip. It ran yelping toward the rice fields. Mr. Derby then stung Teenie with the whip as well. “Get to your kitchen and to your duties. You have no more business here!” He pushed her in the direction of the kitchen, but she continued to scream in protest, inconsolable.
Polly huddled in the wagon, wishing she knew a way to vent the anger that she needed to expel. But she was as helpless as the others.
“I believe it best if I leave quickly,” Dr. Hoskins said over the noise.
“I agree,” Mr. Derby replied. He smacked the horse on the rump. It whinnied, then began to amble on its way. The doctor directed the wagon toward the road. Tidbit shrieked as he realized that he was really being taken away from his mother. Teenie fell to the ground, yelling her grief to the sky. Mr. Derby whipped her again and pulled her to her feet. He half dragged, half walked her back to the kitchen. Hushpuppy continued to bark frantically in the distance.
“Mama!” Tidbit screamed hysterically. “Mama!”
They turned past a bend in the road, and although she could still hear Teenie’s anguished cries, Polly could see her no more. Amari held Tidbit, trying to soothe him, but Polly knew that nothing she could say or do would make the child feel better.
PART SEVEN
AMARI
31. THE DOCTOR’S CHOICE
THE WAGON LUMBERED SLOWLY DOWN THE ROAD. Most of the leaves of the trees, Amari noticed, were turning golden and copper with rusty hues. The sun shone brightly over, the wind blew gently from the east, but a storm of turmoil hovered over the small wagon in which they rode. Polly sat with her arms wrapped tightly around her body. Tidbit still cried for his mother, burying himself in Amari’s arms. Amari, feeling bereft and empty inside, held the child and stared at the thick woods on either side of the road.
I’m to be sold once more? Is this the way it will be forever? To be passed from one owner to another like a cow? Afi had constantly talked about her bright spirit and her future. But Amari could see nothing but the darkness; she found she did not have Afi’s strength.
After an hour or so Dr. Hoskins, who so far had said nothing at all to the passengers in the back of the wagon, slowly pulled over to the side of the road. The horse snorted and grabbed mouthfuls of soft grass.
The doctor was silent for a moment, then he turned around to look at his three passengers. He took a deep breath, then said quietly, “I am ashamed to be a human being this morning. I witnessed not just murder last night, but violence and cruelty and vicious hatred. By saying nothing, I feel I am as responsible as my so-called friend who pulled the trigger.”
Amari and Polly exchanged stunned looks.
Dr. Hoskins continued. “I am just one man. I don’t know how to fight everything that is happening around me. I don’t understand how one man can own another. And I don’t know how to stop it.” He looked around at the deep woods and the darkness within them. “But I can help the three of you.”
“How, sir?” Polly asked immediately.
“I plan to give you at least a fighting chance.” He kept looking around him, as if someone would come down the road and discover what he was doing. “I have a little money and some food that Lena made up for our journey this morning.” He pointed to a small bundle beneath the seat of the wagon.
“You not take us to town to be sold?” Amari asked, her voice hopeful.
“No, child. I’m not.”
“What do we do, sir?” Polly asked.
“The Ashley River runs parallel to this road,” he said, pointing to the west. “Find the river and follow it north. You will have to stay hidden during the day and travel only at night. Can you do that?”
“Oh, yes, sir!” Polly replied with enthusiasm.
“You’ll have at least a day before they discover you’re missing. I’ll wait until tomorrow evening before I will be forced to report your ‘escape’ to Mr. Derby. If I could come up with the money to pay the purchase price for the three of y
ou, I’d do it gladly,” he said, “but unfortunately, I have no such means. All I can give you is time.”
Amari frowned as she tried to make sense of the doctor’s words. He spoke very fast, and she had to take her time to make sure she understood.
“How we gonna ’scape?” she asked, still unsure of the doctor’s plan.
“I am setting you free,” the doctor replied.
“We be free?” Amari asked, hardly daring to believe it. The word itself stunned her.
The doctor replied, “Well, I’m going to try to give you one small chance to be free. It’s up to you and to the spirits of hope and possibility.”
That much of the conversation Amari understood clearly. She thought of Afi and her unfailing faith in the future.
“We are so grateful for this opportunity, sir,” Polly said, her voice breaking. “You are saving our lives!”
“This could just as easily destroy your lives,” he warned. “There will be patrols out and documents posted for your arrest and dogs following your trail.”
“How do we hide from dogs?” Amari asked.
“You can’t. Dogs are trained to trace your smell and attack you when they find you. I’m not going to try to sugarcoat the danger.”
“What happen to you when Massa Derby know you help us?” Amari asked.
“Me? I’ll tell him we were attacked by highwaymen. I’ll fake an injury to make it seem real. Don’t worry about me—I’ll be fine.” Amari stared intently at the kindly, silver-haired doctor; she never would have imagined a white man willing to help her.
“You gonna tell Teenie her chile not get sold?” Amari asked as she held Tidbit’s hand.
“Of course. But it won’t be soon,” he warned. Amari breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t bear to think of Teenie’s misery.
The doctor looked sadly at the three young people in the wagon. “You’re just children,” he mused, shaking his head. He reached under the seat and pulled out an old feed sack. From it he took a small bundle of food, a couple of coins, and a flintlock musket. Amari gasped at the sight of the gun.