“Yes.”
“And he can’t be sure he’s Jake’s father, either, because there’s no Mariah around to say so.”
Martha followed Caleb with her eyes as he paced around the workshop, his enthusiasm multiplying with each sentence. “And, Martha, you don’t know for sure if the slave woman your father buried was even this Mariah. She could’ve been someone else entirely. Maybe Dawes was searching for some other woman. Do you understand what I’m saying, Martha?”
Martha thought long and hard about what she was hearing. Caleb made sense to her. If Dawes really had no legal claim to Jake, why couldn’t her family hire some lawyers, go to Maryland, and bring him back? After all, hadn’t Dawes openly kidnapped a free Northern child?
“You’re so brilliant, Caleb.” She threw her arms around his neck and planted a big kiss on his lips. Then she blushed a bright red.
Still holding on to Caleb, Martha started thinking. Now was the time for her to stop acting like a child. Now was the time for her to become a woman, like the great abolitionists Lucretia Mott and Abby Kelley or, even better, the slave rescuer Harriet Tubman. Yes, now was the time for her to plan, push ahead, and seek information. She had lost Jake. Now, she would find him.
CHAPTER 8
FOR THE next week, Martha concentrated on getting back her strength and resuming her normal routine. But there was no “normal” without Jake. The house was too quiet without his contagious laugh and high-energy antics. Her papa worked in his shop long hours and seemed reluctant to sit at the table or in the parlor with her and her mama. To Martha it seemed as if he felt guilty for not being a responsible head of his family. Her mama drew further into her shell. She cooked and knitted and even conversed a bit, but mostly when Martha sought her out she found her sitting in her rocking chair staring out the window as if waiting for Jake. There was no cheer in the home, just a longing for news of their lost boy.
Martha stayed at home, doing more than her share of the chores. In her spare time, she read any and all abolitionist books and newspapers that came into the house. She no longer lingered over the notices of kidnappings, however. Instead, she read about slave rescues.
“Caleb,” she said one day after a month of interminable waiting, “have you ever heard of the rescues of Shadrach Minkins in Boston and Jerry in Syracuse?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“They were taken under the Fugitive Slave Law, just like Jake. But then mobs of people rescued them and whisked them away to Canada.”
“That’s interesting, Martha. But what does that have to do with Jake? He’s probably already on Dawes’s plantation.”
“Well, I’ve been reading, and there are some brave people going down South to rescue loved ones who were sent there.”
“Truly?” Caleb cut a slice of cheese from their luncheon and offered it to her. As she held it in her hand, she continued. “Of course, slave rescuers can’t reveal any details. No names. No routes.”
He gave Martha a meaningful look. “You mean like the Underground Railroad.”
“Well, more than that. I’ve heard tell that Harriet Tubman has gone to the exact same area of Maryland that Jake might be in and helped bring her family members to freedom. It vexes the authorities that so many slaves are going missing.”
“Sounds dangerous to me.”
“Oh, it is. If they’re caught, they get arrested. The Africs get sold way down South and the whites go to jail for a very long time.”
Caleb cut some bread and offered it to Martha. She shook her head no.
“I wonder, Caleb, if Harriet . . .”
Martha stopped in the middle of her sentence as Adam Burke’s carryall sped up their road.
“I have news of Jake,” he shouted as he jumped down to the ground and ran to the house. Martha and Caleb ran after him.
“Please, tell us, Mr. Burke,” Martha urged. “Where’s Jake? It’s been a month since Robert Dawes took him.”
“I don’t know where he is at this very moment, Martha, but I do have some news.”
Martha’s face fell, but she listened intently as Adam Burke shared his information.
“First, I must tell thee that we have had abolitionists all over Connecticut asking questions about your boy. And then there is this.” He handed a copy of The Liberator to Martha’s papa. Her heart stopped as she peered over his shoulder at the title of the front-page article: “Slave Owner Kidnaps Connecticut Boy.” This was a nightmare come to fruition. Martha’s papa read the short piece aloud:
“On January fifteenth, Robert Dawes, a slave owner from LaGrange, Dorchester County, Maryland, kidnapped seven-and-a-half-year-old Jacob Bartlett after an unsuccessful attempt to claim him under the Fugitive Slave Law. Dawes said the boy was the son of his slave, Mariah, who ran away in the fall of 1846. However, there is no evidence that Mariah came through Connecticut or that she is the mother of young Jacob.
“The Vigilance Committees of Connecticut and the child’s parents are searching frantically for him. Please contact Adam Burke in Liberty Falls, Windham County, Connecticut, if you have any information concerning this tragic situation.”
Martha took the paper from her papa. “May I keep this, Mr. Burke?” she asked.
“Yes, of course, Martha.”
“Thank you. But, please, do you have any more positive news?”
“Yes, I do,” Adam Burke said. “We have two eyewitnesses who claim to have seen Dawes with Jake.”
Martha held her breath as Adam Burke continued.
“The first person to notice something unusual was a woman at an inn south of here in Norwich.”
“When was that?” asked her mama.
“The evening of the kidnapping.”
“Dawes was traveling fast,” her papa noted.
“Yes. The woman said that a phaeton with a tall gentleman and a child stopped by the inn. There were two ruffians with them. The gentleman asked the woman for some bread, meat, and ale, but said he wished to eat in his carriage. The woman noticed that he had a Southern accent.”
Martha sensed Adam Burke’s hesitation to go on. “What is it, Mr. Burke? What’s the matter?”
“Prepare thyselves.”
Everyone in the group took a deep breath as Adam Burke went on. “The woman told her son to go ask her husband to prepare the plate. Meanwhile, the gentleman, let’s say Dawes, descended from the carriage to stretch his legs. When he opened the door, the woman noticed that the little boy inside had a big welt on one side of his face. It was an angry red as if the boy had been struck mighty hard. She also saw a rope tied around his waist and attached to a metal loop on the floor. The child looked angry and sorrowful.”
Martha heard her mama sob and grabbed for her hand. “Oh, my poor child. No one has ever struck him before. He was raised in a gentle home, Adam. No violence.”
“I know, Sarah. I know,” he replied.
“Why didn’t she call for help, Mr. Burke?” asked Martha. “There was obviously something amiss.”
“She did, Martha. She immediately ran into the inn with the intention of sending her son for the local constable, but Dawes, sensing the woman’s alarm, forewent his victuals, hurried to the phaeton, and took off at top speed.”
Silence filled the room.
“Is there any more?” asked her papa.
“Yes. The next time anyone actually saw the party was in New London. One of our associates working on the docks saw the group, well, we assume it was the same group, arrive by the dock where a large sloop awaited. As soon as the crew saw the phaeton arrive, they started raising the sails. A man, a child on a tether, and two rough riders accompanying them quickly boarded the ship, leaving the horses and carriage abandoned on the dock.”
“And?”
“Immediately after, the ship set sail and headed east out of the Long Island Sound toward the ocean.”
“And?”
“And nothing else for now. We have a contact who knows how to reach Harriet Tubman, who’s
just returned from a visit, shall we say, to Dorchester County, where Jake should be by now. Mrs. Tubman says there’s no sign of him.”
Martha pondered this information and then started thinking out loud. “Maybe it just takes a long time to sail to Maryland. Or he’s hiding somewhere with Jake until things quiet down. Or something happened to the ship on its way. Could it be that, Mr. Burke? Could something bad have happened?”
“Don’t think that way, Martha,” her papa urged. “Adam, what’s the plan now?”
“Well, folks, there’s nothing much we can do for now but sit and wait. There’s a contact in Dorchester, in fact, in LaGrange itself, who’s asking questions. She must be very discreet, thee understands, so it may take us a while to learn what’s happened. In the meantime, the abolitionists all through our state are collecting money to offer Dawes for our purchase of Jake.”
Martha was perplexed. “Purchase? How can you purchase a free boy?”
“Thee all must try to understand,” Adam Burke said. “We know that we’ll be offering a bribe, or a ransom, if thee prefers, for the boy. But, remember, Dawes is a slave master. He believes he owns the child. So we’ll simply call it a purchase price.”
Martha persisted. “But isn’t that lying, Mr. Burke? It seems wrong to me to pretend to purchase him. Isn’t that illegal here anyway? Buying a slave, I mean?”
“Martha, thee and thy parents of all people know that sometimes one has to lie or play a game in order to achieve freedom and justice. We shall play the slave owner’s game. Now I must go. I’ll be back as soon as I have more news.”
Two whole months of anguish and torture passed without any word. At times, Martha felt such guilt and frustration that she dreamed of running away to Maryland to find Jake herself. But she had no idea how to do that. She was smart enough to know that she really needed the help of the adults in the abolitionist community to save Jake. One young girl could not take on such a monumental task all by herself, but she was convinced that she could play a pivotal role in the rescue. At long last, April, with its early signs of spring, blossomed with news of Jake as well.
One evening, Adam Burke rushed to Martha’s front door and proclaimed, “Jake’s at Dawes’s LaGrange plantation.”
“Is this the truth? Has anyone actually seen him?” asked Martha, elated that her brother was alive.
“Yes, Martha,” he replied. “Our contact, a Mrs. Perry, met Dawes’s kitchen slave, Lucy, at the market in the town. She’s known Lucy, who was born on the plantation, all her life. She asked her about a new slave child.”
Martha held her breath. “She’s seen Jake?”
“Lucy told Mrs. Perry that Robert Dawes returned to the plantation after having been away for almost three months. She said he looked travel weary, a bit thin, even.”
“He was probably worn out by Jake,” Martha jested in nervous relief. Her mama and papa stared at her in shock.
Adam Burke continued, “She also said that he had a child with him. He looked to be around seven or eight years of age. Looked exactly like her daughter Mariah.”
Martha gasped.
“Dawes told Lucy the child’s name was Jake. Lucy apparently begged him to let her take charge of the boy, and he seemed relieved to comply. Said she should teach him kitchen chores and keep him in her quarters.”
Martha’s mama held a handkerchief to her tearful eyes and asked, “Did this Lucy ask Jake about his mother?”
“She said the child was very quiet.”
“Are you sure it’s Jake?” Martha put in again. She seemed unable to hold her tongue.
“He told her his name was Jake. That he was taken from Connecticut. That his mama was Sarah and his papa Micah. And he demanded that Lucy call a constable to take him home.”
“Ah,” Martha laughed in relief. “That’s Jake.”
Even her mama and papa gave a little smile at her comment.
Adam Burke continued, “He told this Lucy that he knew nothing about anyone named Mariah. Of course, Lucy told Mrs. Perry that she was very worried about her daughter, who had run away about eight years ago. She had hoped she was safe in Canada or at least somewhere in the North, but now she feared that something evil had befallen her. She wants to know about her daughter as much as thee wants to know about Jake.”
“This is so sad, Mr. Burke. Will you offer Mr. Dawes the ransom?” Martha asked.
“We’re trying to arrange this now. I’ve written a letter that will offer him eight hundred dollars for Jake, but I’m waiting for one of our anti-slavery agents to carry it to Philadelphia, where it’ll be carried on further south.”
“Eight hundred dollars,” Martha’s papa mused. “That’s a goodly sum. People have been so kind to us.”
“Yes,” Adam Burke agreed. “Let’s hope that Robert Dawes thinks so, too. He’s a wealthy man, you know. Eight hundred dollars may seem a pittance.”
“Mr. Burke,” Martha added, “can Harriet Tubman help us if Mr. Dawes rejects our offer?”
“Let’s try this approach first. If it doesn’t work, we’ll seek help elsewhere.”
With that, Adam Burke left. Martha was elated by the news. Jake was not only alive, but apparently well. Now it would be a simple task of bribing the greedy slave owner and bringing Jake home. After all, now that he had experienced being with Jake, why would he want to keep him? He could hardly take care of himself, much less do the work of a slave. Maybe her parents and Adam Burke would allow her to be one of the party to go and get him. She was so curious to see what the South and its “peculiar institution” looked like.
Yet another very long but oddly hopeful month passed with no more word. Instead of fretting, however, Martha began planning. She hinted to Caleb that she wanted to go south herself for Jake’s rescue, but he just looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Martha, be serious. You haven’t been any further south than Brooklyn. Do you have any idea how to get to Maryland? Do you even have any money? And what about the impropriety of a girl traveling on her own?”
“But, Caleb, I would just be one of the rescuers, not the only one. Jake would be happy to see me, and I could help manage him.”
“Well, aren’t you the same girl who just a few months ago was afraid of even leaving this farm to go to town or school?”
“That was a different time, and no, I’m not the same girl. I’m different. A lot’s happened in a few months, and I’ve read a lot and learned a lot and planned a lot. I know I have to help Jake. He’s my brother, after all. I neglected him, and I lost him. Guilt changes a person, you know. And besides,” she added, “I was hoping that you might come with me.”
“Are you jesting?” he asked. “Martha, first of all, I can’t leave my family and my job here with your father. They all depend on me for money and help. Second of all, I’m not all that brave. I’m more of a stay-on-the-farm man. And third, I care for you too much to venture off on such a harebrained scheme. Let’s leave Jake’s rescue to those who have some expertise in such matters, shall we?”
Martha was greatly upset by Caleb’s attitude. He sounded like an old man, not a young adventurous one. She had thought he would want to be part of the effort to save her brother from the worst evil of all—slavery. But after his initial anger at Jake’s abduction, he appeared to minimize the seriousness of her brother’s situation and just want to get on with life. She decided that for the present, the best approach was to agree with Caleb lest he mention something to her father.
“I see your point, Caleb. I’m too young and unknowledgeable to think about becoming a slave stealer.”
For the next endless month Martha scoured all the books and newspapers she could find to learn something about Maryland. Maybe with more information, she could change Caleb’s mind.
“Caleb,” she said one Saturday during their usual luncheon together, “did you know that Maryland is actually not that very far south?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it borders Pennsylv
ania, you know.”
“Really.”
“Yes, on the north, and Delaware on the east.”
“Delaware is slave, though, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Martha said, “but it’s small. And right across the Delaware Bay is New Jersey. And that’s free.”
“Martha,” said Caleb.
“I’m just trying to learn about where Jake is,” she hedged, “so that when someone with experience goes to get him, I’ll know where they’re going.”
“Uh-huh.”
In early June, Adam Burke returned to the farm. Martha greeted him eagerly.
“I need to speak to thy parents, and, of course, with thee as well, Martha.” He looked so solemn that Martha immediately had misgivings.
“Please come inside. My mama’s taken to her bed. This situation with Jake has broken her. But I’ll ask her to come downstairs.”
Once again Adam Burke brought the family both bad and hopeful news at the same time. With each word, Martha noted her mother drawing into herself, becoming more remote, sometimes simply staring into space.
“I’ve had a response from Robert Dawes,” he told them. “He’s refused our offer. Says he doesn’t wish to sell the child to us. Says he’s too valuable.”
Martha drew in a deep breath. “What does that mean?”
“It means that he wishes to taunt us. Here, let me read part of the letter to thee. ‘I wish to keep the boy for at least two years while he acclimates to his station in life. Then I may consider selling him. His fair looks and training as a house slave will make him very valuable.’”
Martha could not believe her ears. “He would sell a boy he claims to be his own son?”
“I believe he’s saying this just to exert his authority over us. However, there are a number of slave owners who have sold their Afric children. And then there are some, I’m happy to say, who have actually freed them.”
“But what about a lawyer, Mr. Burke?” asked Martha. “Can’t we retrieve Jake by proving he was born here a free boy?”
“You know, Martha, that Jake’s birth documents were falsely made. There’s actually no proof he was born here. Dawes has shown his own solicitor documents proving ownership of Mariah. Apparently, Jake resembles his grandmother Lucy a great deal, and a Maryland judge will see this as proof of Dawes’s ownership. Also, Dawes does claim paternity, and Maryland accepts his word on that. Custom, you know.”
Martha and the Slave Catchers Page 9