“Don’t worry so much, Mahthah. I’m sure things will improve now that he’s in school,” her papa assured her. “Soon these fits of disobedience will subside and he’ll take off and start to understand. After all, he’s had a difficult start to his life, and maybe all of our watching him so closely has somehow prevented him from maturing.”
“I don’t agree,” she complained. “He’s had the same upbringing as me. And when he misbehaves, I’m the one who’s called upon to quiet him and get him to sit still. Then I can’t concentrate on my own studies, which I love so much.”
“Please, Martha,” her mama said. “Be patient with our boy. I’ll talk with him and help him with his lessons at home so thee can do thy studying.”
Martha was unsure of her mama’s offer. She knew her attempt to help Jake would not last for long. And she was right. Jake continued to misbehave at home, in school, and on the village green, and her mama continued to grow more unsteady until she was of no real practical help to Martha. Her papa could control Jake, but he was too busy to stop work to discipline him on a regular basis. Only when Caleb sat him down and talked with him or told him a story would Jake retain a little bit of self-control.
“Jake,” Caleb said one day when he came to walk him and Martha home from school. “Were you a good boy today?”
“No,” Jake laughed. “I dropped my slate and it broke, so Miss Osgood made me stand in the corner. I did that, but when she wasn’t looking at me, I turned around and made faces so the other children would laugh.”
Martha frowned.
“Jake,” responded Caleb. “Be a good boy in school. If you aren’t, I won’t be able to play with you after my work is done.”
“Why not?”
“Because your mama and papa will be angry at you and won’t allow you to play.”
“They won’t be angry. They are never angry. Only Mattie gets angry.”
“But Jake, you don’t want me to be angry with you, do you?” asked Caleb.
“No. Never. I love you, Caleb.”
“Then be good.”
Martha felt truly grateful for Caleb’s attempts to help her with Jake. And to his credit, Jake tried, but he was never able to be as good as most children in the school. Caleb would not speak to him on days when Martha told him Jake had misbehaved. Like the time Jake put a frog under Miss Osgood’s book, which jumped at her when she picked it up. Or when he tied Jane Appleton’s shoestrings together so that when she got up to walk, she fell flat on her face. The class roared with laughter while poor Jane could only rub her sore nose for the rest of the day. Martha truly believed that Jake would never be able to be schooled and that was what made him misbehave. She felt sorry for him, but sometimes, she felt sorrier for herself.
Miss Osgood tried to help by visiting Martha’s mama and papa, but her papa stuck to his usual response. “I’m sure Jake will grow out of it. I’m positive he won’t be playing such pranks when he’s a grown man. In the meantime, we’ll do our best to help him with his lessons.”
Martha simply believed her parents preferred to lie, this time to themselves. In the meantime, her own concern over Jake forced her to continue to search for clippings about kidnappings. She was unable to stop herself even though the notices upset her. In October 1852, John Henry Wilson was taken from Pennsylvania, and not found, and in July 1853, a girl of just four or five was kidnapped from Providence, Rhode Island. Martha felt certain that the kidnappers were coming closer.
Then that fall, a notice was posted on buildings and fence posts all over Liberty Falls.
$200 REWARD
FOR INFORMATION
ABOUT A RUNAWAY SLAVE.
YOUNG, BEAUTIFUL WOMAN
IN HER EARLY TWENTIES.
ANSWERS TO THE NAME MARIAH.
VERY LIGHT SKIN AND
LONG WAVY BLACK HAIR.
OF THIN STATURE.
ABOUT FIVE FEET SEVEN INCHES.
ALMOND-SHAPED HAZEL EYES.
WITH CHILD WHEN LAST SEEN.
CHILD WOULD NOW BE
SEVEN YEARS OLD.
$200 FOR ANY INFORMATION
LEADING TO HER RECOVERY
AND $100 MORE FOR THE CHILD.
CONTACT ROBERT DAWES AT
LAGRANGE PLANTATION,
DORCHESTER COUNTY, MARYLAND.
DATED: NOVEMBER 24, 1853.
Martha and her parents were stunned. Never before had anyone tried to find Jake and his mother in such an aggressive manner. The slave catchers that had come through town about once a year were no doubt the hirelings of this man, Robert Dawes. After all, Martha had once heard them use Dawes’s name. But they had been all bluster and not at all effective in their quest. So, why now? Had someone or something led him to believe that his runaway slave was still alive and in the United States, not dead or safely in Canada? Whatever his reasons, this notice gave Martha terrifying nightmares.
One evening, her papa took her aside.
“Dear Mahthah,” he said, “you must not allow this notice to take over your life. Just as in the past, the slave catchers or this Robert Dawes himself will find nothing and disappear.”
“But, Papa,” Martha sobbed, “the description is exactly Jake. The almond-shaped hazel eyes. The fair skin. The age. And now we have a name for his mama . . . Mariah. Such a pretty name.”
“That description could fit a number of runaways. It’ll lead to nothing.”
“And Jake,” Martha added, “does many bad things to draw attention to himself.”
“If he was quiet and sullen,” her papa noted, “he might make himself even more conspicuous.”
While Martha mulled this over, her papa pressed on.
“Mahthah, you must act as if nothing has changed. Calm down. And do nothing different.”
“But I’m frightened, Papa. I want only to stay home and not venture out.”
“No. I’ll see you and Jake safely to school and then back home. Or I’ll send Caleb. Just as we do now. Understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“In the meantime, try to do something you enjoy and do not read any more of my newspapers.”
Martha was surprised that he had noticed her clandestine activity. “Yes, Papa.”
But Martha still had one copy of The National Anti-Slavery Standard reporting the kidnapping of a fourteen-year-old white girl, a girl just like her. Only in the nick of time was the error found, the girl released, and the abductors arrested. And then another snatching, this time of Jack, a nine-year-old black boy taken from Boston to Selma, Alabama, into slavery. She could not help but notice the similarity. Jack. Jake. One letter. Just one little letter.
CHAPTER 6
NOVEMBER WAS fraught with worry, but December held promise because it was the month of the Liberty Falls annual Anti-Slavery Fair. Martha loved everything about this annual fund-raising tradition, especially since girls and boys her age indulged themselves in a bit of flirting and even courting. A few days before the grand event, Martha carefully passed a note to Becky during school. “Can’t wait to see you at the fair this weekend. Your folks will let you go, won’t they?”
Becky wrote back. “Yeah, because it’s in our church. Maybe I’ll meet a nice boy there.”
Martha could not help giggling. She and Becky were both thirteen now and courting was just beginning for them. She answered, “Will Caleb be there?”
“Oh, yes. He’s my official chaperone.”
“Martha. Becky,” came the stern voice of Miss Osgood, who suddenly towered over them, “may I have the note please.”
Martha handed it over as Miss Osgood added, “One more time and you’ll be staying after school to clean the slates and sweep the floors.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Martha replied, giving Becky a secret smile before returning to her math problems. How could she not smile with the fair just a few days away?
The evening of the event, Martha put on the new green and red plaid wool dress that her aunt Edith had made for her. Her mama added a pretty
white crocheted lace collar, which Martha thought made the dress even fancier. Just as she started brushing out her long, straight black hair, her mama, a big smile splashed across her face, came to her door.
“Thee looks lovely, Martha,” she said. “Shall I help to fix thy hair?”
Martha was thrilled to see her mama looking so happy. “Oh, yes, Mama. I love it when you brush my hair.”
“It looks so nice hanging loose down thy back. Shall we leave it unplaited and just tie it with this?” She then produced a width of green and red striped ribbon, the most luxuriant Martha had ever seen.
Martha beamed as she ran her fingers along the satiny fabric. “Thank you so much, Mama. It’s beautiful.”
“Thee is a great help to me, Martha, and I love thee more than I can say. Tonight, do not worry. Thy papa and I shall tend to Jake.”
As Martha enjoyed the feel of the brush in her mama’s hands, she said, “Becky always teases me about my plaits. She says they are so long that they make me look like an Indian.”
Martha felt her mama pause, then begin brushing again. “Well, Becky Franklin does not know everything. Thy hair is like that of many other girls.”
“But I always wondered, Mama, how come you have your blonde hair and Papa his bright blue eyes, and I have black hair and brown eyes?”
“I’m sure that somewhere back in time, someone in our family had these same traits,” her mama replied as she tied the ribbon. “Thee is ready. Let us find Jake and thy papa and be on our way.”
Within minutes, they were all gathered near the door. Martha wrapped her warm woolen shawl around her shoulders and then grabbed two heavy quilts for her and Jake to snuggle under during the cold ride into town. As the buckboard slipped and slid its way over the icy roads, she and Jake sang the simple songs she had taught him, especially his current favorite, “Long, Long Ago.”
Within minutes, it seemed, they were in the warm, cheerful church basement with friends and neighbors talking and laughing together among the colorful booths displaying handmade goods for sale. The sweet smell of apple cider and fresh-baked maple doughnuts made Martha’s mouth water, and she longed to eat one of the sweet cakes. Maybe two. Perhaps three.
The first person she spied was her aunt Edith, who promptly took her aside.
“Here, my beautiful niece, is a little gift to help you enjoy the fair.”
Martha accepted the small handmade crocheted purse that matched the collar of her dress. Inside were several coins.
“Oh, Aunt Edith. Thank you so much.”
“Your mama looks so cheerful tonight, Martha. I’m glad. Now, you go and have fun. I’ll help with Jake.”
Martha opened her mouth to speak, but Aunt Edith cut her off. “Go. I see your friends looking for you.”
Martha gave Aunt Edith a hug and turned to see Becky and Caleb wending their way through the crowd toward her. They were grinning from ear to ear.
“Martha,” Caleb and Becky said in one voice, “come on. There’s lots to do.”
“Can I, Mama?” she asked.
“Of course, child. Thee have a pleasant time.”
Released of all responsibility, Martha happily hurried off, pulling Becky by the hand.
“First stop. Maple doughnuts. Second. Cider.”
“Absolutely,” Becky responded.
Once Martha, Becky, and Caleb had each chomped down three sweet treats, Martha looked around at the booths. What could she buy with her shiny new coins?
“I want to purchase some gifts,” she said excitedly. “First, for my papa.”
Caleb pointed to a booth selling pen wipers for blotting excess ink off a piece of paper. Each had an inscription. “How about one of these? You can choose between ‘Wipe Out the Blot of Slavery,’ or ‘Plead the Cause with Thy Pen.’”
“I think the blot message is stronger.”
After Martha handed over her three pence for the wiper, she grabbed Becky’s hand to show her a handmade wooden needle holder.
“Look at these, Becky. Do you think my mama would like one?”
“I sure do,” Becky said. “I know mine would. If I had the money, I’d buy one myself.”
Martha took a few of the remaining coins from her purse and offered them to her best friend.
“No, Martha. Thanks, but you buy it. I’m knitting my mama a warm shawl anyway.”
Martha then bought the needle holder, which came with a message written on a small sheet of paper: “May the use of our needles stick the consciences of slave holders.”
“Now for Jake,” she said. “I know exactly what I want. When I was little, Mama and Papa gave me The Anti-Slavery Alphabet. I loved the book, but one day I dropped it in the mud and that was that.”
“I remember that book,” said Caleb. “I used to read it each year during the fair. It was pretty serious. Do you think Jake would like it?”
“The sentences are short and the drawings of the letters eye-catching, so maybe he would. I’m trying anything I can think of to help him to read.”
Sure enough, the small book was prominently displayed on the literature table.
After paying for it, Martha turned back to join her friends. But Becky was not there.
“She went bouncing off with Mark Griffen,” grinned Caleb. “Said she’d see us later.”
Martha blushed as Caleb took her hand. “Let’s go somewhere private to talk.” Her heart pounded as he led her to a side room next to where the coats were stored. It was dimly lit, quiet, and cozy feeling, and most noticeably, no one was anywhere near it. Martha was unsure about being with Caleb away from her mama and papa’s eyes. They might disapprove and reprimand her for it, but she could not resist her urge to be alone with him.
“Martha,” he began in a shy voice while he toyed with her fingers, “I know we’re young. But I’m almost seventeen now and I think I can see what my future will be like. I’m hoping in a year or two we might court and think about being together.”
Martha choked out, “Me too, Caleb.”
“I bought you a little present to mark the start of our private pledge.” And with that he gave her a small package. Martha looked down so Caleb would not see her red face as she carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing a beautiful handmade white silk handkerchief embroidered with a red rose. Immediately, she unfolded the soft fabric and rubbed it against her cheek.
Caleb smiled, moved closer, took Martha’s face into his hands, and kissed her very lightly on the forehead, then the lips. She relaxed as her body tingled with pleasurable feelings she had never experienced before. Her first kiss. It was really, really nice, but embarrassing for some reason. Flustered, she took a very small step backward and said, “We’d better return to the fair before my papa comes looking for us.”
Caleb nodded, took her hand, and together they left the peaceful room for the clamor and brightly lit lanterns of the main hall. Martha had never felt so happy and calm in her life. She gently squeezed Caleb’s fingers before releasing them and moving a short distance away from him, as was proper.
Immediately, however, Martha could tell that something was amiss. Her papa and mama were having an animated conversation with Adam Burke, and as soon as her papa saw her, he rushed to her side. Taking no notice of her flushed face, he quickly said, “Excuse me, Caleb, but I need to have a word with Mahthah.”
“Yes, sir. Is anything wrong?”
“It’s nothing for you to fret over. Please, excuse us.”
Taking Martha aside, he whispered close to her ear, “The slave catchers and a strange man in a rich-looking carriage have been seen in town asking questions. It’s said to be Robert Dawes. Jonah, Edith, and Ned are leaving now and taking Jake home with them ’til it’s safe for him to return. Your mama and I will see them off and then I’ll come back for you. Please be ready to leave.”
Giving her a reassuring pat on the back, her papa hurried off with her mama and Jake. Martha stood watching, her body trembling with fear. Caleb came up next to her and
felt her shaking.
“What is it, Martha?” He paused, but she kept her silence. “Tell me. You can trust me with anything.”
Martha led him back to the private room where they had so recently expressed their growing attachment to each other. She knew she should not reveal her family’s secret. Yet she could no longer hold it in. Checking that no one else was nearby, Martha carefully closed the door and, in the quietest voice she could muster, told him Jake’s story. To her great distress, Caleb showed no sign of surprise.
“Becky always thought there was something unusual in Jake’s looks,” he said, “and how you all have been so protective of him, especially when those slave catchers affronted you. It makes sense now.”
Instantly, Martha grew anxious. How many other people in town guessed Jake’s story? Had she somehow betrayed him? Had she just betrayed him again?
“Please, Caleb. Don’t say anything, not even to Becky.”
“I won’t, Martha. I promise.” He took her hand and squeezed it gently.
Reluctantly, Martha pulled her hand away, went next door to the coat room to retrieve her shawl, and left to meet her parents, who were waving farewell to Jake. As she looked back, she saw Caleb standing by the church door, his head hung low in deep concentration.
When the family’s buckboard reached the snow-covered road to their farm, Martha spotted a black phaeton sitting outside their house. Its large, thin iron wheels and leather seats and carriage top reflected the apparent wealth of its owner. Flanking it were two men standing beside their horses. Martha recognized them immediately from their stances and the sneers on their travel-worn faces. They were Will and Tom, the slave catchers. She took in a deep breath as her papa maneuvered the buckboard to rest in front of the phaeton.
Robert Dawes unfolded himself from the cramped seat and stood next to the carriage. Martha stared at him with fascination. She had never seen a Southern gentleman before, and this one, although tired looking, was obviously well tended. He was about the same age and height as her father, she guessed, with fine features—a chiseled nose and sharp chin and a shock of black curly hair that dipped onto his forehead. He wore a brown wool chesterfield with a velvet collar, and on his head sat a stovepipe hat. His hands and feet were covered in soft brown leather. He was just like a picture from one of Martha’s books about the evils of slavery. Handsome, sleek, and untrustworthy. Martha strained to make out the words he spoke in a soft, musical-sounding accent. “Are you Micah Bartlett?”
Martha and the Slave Catchers Page 6