“Yes, Reverend Thompson. Just thinking and remembering.”
“I understand. Do you want to tell me about it?”
For a few moments, a comfortable silence filled the room. Then Martha began talking, and once she started, she could not stop. Words tumbled from her mouth as she reconstructed her past. She told the reverend about how Jake had entered her life almost eight years ago. His birth. How she took care of him. The slave catchers always, always coming to look for him. The abominable Fugitive Slave Law. Dawes kidnapping Jake. Her mama’s breakdown. The revelation of her race. Her papa. Caleb. Becky. And the rescue on the Underground Railroad.
When she finished, Reverend Thompson took her shaking hands into his large warm ones and squeezed them gently. “You’ve been through a great deal, child,” he said.
“Yes, I have,” she replied. She wanted to tell him more and to ask him questions about how to live in a country that was unkind to people who were not white. And about Jake, who still believed he was a white child who had been abducted into slavery. She truly believed that the sooner he knew about his own identity, the better. That his natural mother was the runaway slave Mariah, and his father, Robert Dawes. And she had to tell him about herself as well. There must be no more lies. Lies had hurt them both, and they could only find their place in the world if they always knew the truth.
“Can I see Jake now?” she pleaded.
“I think it’s good that we spoke beforehand. There’s just one more thing, though.”
Martha shifted in her seat and prepared to stand up.
“I’m very anxious to see him. He really needs me.”
“Yes, he does. But he’s a strong little boy and is in fine hands. My wife is very good with children. We had six of our own,” he added, “but we lost each one to slavery.”
Martha felt her face turn red with shame and embarrassment, but the reverend’s kind face put her at ease.
“Now,” he said, patting her arm. “That one more thing I mentioned . . .”
“What is it?”
“You and Jake cannot return home until it’s safe.”
“How long will that be?”
“Maybe a couple of months. Think of this as a summer visit with friends. Can you do that?”
Martha bit her lip and mustered up her courage.
“I’ll try. But I worry about my mama and papa.”
“I understand, but you need to remain hopeful so that Jake feels safe and is not frightened. He’s been through enough for such a young and innocent child.”
Martha lowered her head and stared at her hands, which had begun shaking again. The future looked so scary that great big tears once again fell from her eyes. She took her handkerchief with the embroidered red rose and wiped them away.
“I’m sorry, Reverend,” she managed to whisper.
He gently patted her on the shoulder. “No need to apologize, Martha. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, but you’re safe now and among friends.”
Martha nodded and produced a small smile. “But I’m frightened and homesick. And where will Jake and I stay meanwhile?”
The reverend gave her his wonderfully big smile. “My wife and I hope you’ll want to stay with us. We enjoy having young ones with us whenever we get the chance.”
As Martha absorbed the reverend’s words, a small head peeked into the room.
“Mattie!” Jake ran to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Are you better?”
She was so happy to see him that her eyes again welled up as she grabbed him and hugged him tightly for a good long time.
“I’ll leave you two alone now,” Reverend Thompson said as he raised himself from the chair and left the room, being careful to close the door behind him.
“I’m fine, Jakey. How are you?” Martha tickled him under his armpits to see him smile.
“I’m good. See? I have boys’ clothes back. And I’m nice and clean. And I helped Aunt Fanny cook hotcakes. I saved you some on the stove.”
“That’s good. I can’t wait to taste them.”
“Mattie. I like it here. But when can we go home?”
“Soon, I hope, but for now, we’ll stay here. Mr. Dawes is still wanting to take you, I’m afraid. And he’s real angry with me, too. Reverend Thompson asked if we’d like to spend the summer here with him and Mrs. Thompson. What do you think?”
“I guess we could. But just for a visit, right?”
“Right.”
Martha and Jake gazed at each other, deep love and understanding passing between them. Then, Jake lowered his voice. “Are we safe here, Mattie?”
“Yes, Jake, we are.”
“He can’t take us away from here?”
“No, he can’t.”
Jake balled up his fists like a bare-knuckle prizefighter. “Even if he tried, I’d fight him off like on the train.”
Martha laughed. “Yes, indeed, you would.”
Jake wrapped his arms once again around Martha’s neck and leaned his cheek next to her ear. Then he said something she never thought she would hear from him.
“I love you, Mattie.”
And she responded with something she never thought she would say to him.
“I love you, too, Jake.”
After another long hug, Martha sat Jake down next to her. Now was the time to begin ridding themselves of the lies. “I have to tell you something, Jake. Something about yourself.”
“You mean that I’m an Afric person? And that my first mama was Mariah and my first papa was that mean Mr. Dawes?”
Martha was shocked. “How did you know?”
“Granma Lucy told me. I didn’t believe her for a long time. But now I do. It’s nice, isn’t it, Mattie? Being black and white?”
Martha laughed. “Well, I suppose it is. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m two colors, too. Maybe even more.”
“You are? How did that happen?”
Martha told Jake her story. As he listened, he sucked his lips and shook his head from side to side. By the end, his eyes had grown as big as stars.
“But, you know, Jake. I think I’ve learned a lot about people on our journey. There are good people, not-so-good people, not-so-bad people, and bad people. I’ve come to think that what people look like really doesn’t matter. As long as there are wonderful people like the ones who helped us out.”
Jake nodded his head like he always did when he knew Martha was telling him something important. He did not really understand it all but he would think about it very hard. Finally, after several moments of silence, he patted her on the arm.
“I’m sorry you don’t know who they are, though. Your mama and papa, I mean.”
“My mama and papa are Sarah and Micah, the same as yours, Jake. They have always been our real mama and papa.”
Jake nodded as Martha added, “Now, I’m famished. Where are those hotcakes you promised me?”
June turned into July and then August. Martha’s papa sent short letters via the Underground Railroad, but to be safe he did not reveal any details. In the meantime, Martha and Jake’s newly claimed Aunt Fanny and Uncle Abijah filled their lives with happiness and adventure. Aunt Fanny taught Jake about food. Every day she took him to the marketplace or a local farm, where she helped him pick out new foods to taste. Together, they cooked every meal eaten in the house.
Martha spent her days with Uncle Abijah who, besides being a reverend, was something of a doctor. Martha went with him from house to house, learning how to cure illnesses and tend to injuries. She loved the work and thought she might like to become a doctor one day. She had read in The Liberator about Elizabeth Blackwell being the first woman back home to go to medical school, and the story gave Martha wonderful dreams of helping runaway slaves and poor people recover from illnesses and injuries. Maybe she would be the one to save another poor girl like Mariah from dying while giving birth to a freeborn child.
At the end of September, Aunt Fanny brought Martha a
nd Jake a letter from the post office.
“See, dear ones,” she said, “it’s addressed to Martha and Jake Bartlett at our address.”
Martha stared at their names.
“And,” Aunt Fanny added, “there is a return address up here for Micah Bartlett in Liberty Falls, Connecticut.”
Martha’s face lit up. “Do you think this means what I think it does, Aunt Fanny? That it’s safe back home?”
“It could be. Why don’t you open it?”
Martha held the envelope for a brief moment, then tore it open and began reading.
“Read it aloud, Mattie,” Jake demanded.
“Of course, Jake. Sorry.”
“My dearest children,” she began. “I have very big and wonderful news.” Martha paused, her eyes poring over the words.
Jake leaned over her arm. “Go on, Mattie. Don’t stop.”
“Those abominable slave catchers, Will and Tom, have been arrested in Pomfret for kidnapping a free colored boy. It appears they got so frustrated by not finding you that they decided to make a little money by selling another poor soul into slavery. They snatched the boy just before he reached his school one morning. But, fortunately, he had forgotten his luncheon and his papa was on horseback to bring it to him. While he and his papa were fighting off the evil men, the Pomfret townspeople heard the ruckus and promptly rescued the boy and called the constable to arrest Will and Tom.”
“Those wicked men,” said Uncle Abijah, who had come in to hear the news.
Martha cleared her throat.
“They are in the Brooklyn jail awaiting trial, but there is no doubt that they will be sent to prison for a very long time.
“Adam Burke told me that they had appealed to Robert Dawes for help, but he sent a most surprising letter to the court saying he does not condone the abduction of free children and that the court should do with Will and Tom as they see fit.”
Martha looked up in surprise. “That’s most odd, don’t you think?”
“Mattie.” Jake shook her arm. “Go. On.”
Martha scanned the letter quickly. “Ah. This explains it. Listen, Jake. ‘Adam Burke found out from Harriet Tubman that the truth is the other white plantation owners were so angry with Dawes for setting fire to Lorraine Perry’s home and, hence, the rest of the town that they pressured him to forget about his search for you. They want peace, not the threat of slave revolts.’”
“I’m sad about the fire,” said Jake, “but I’m glad Mr. Dawes’s friends have stopped him from scaring us.”
Martha broke into a wide smile as she read on: “So I write with great joy to say that it is once again safe for you in Liberty Falls. I will hurry to finish bringing in the harvest this week and then leave for Canada to bring you home. Caleb offered to go in my place, but this is one journey I wish to make myself. He can tend to the shop for a short while, and Aunt Edith will come to stay with your mama.
“I am eager to see you and hold you both in my arms. Expect me to arrive in a week or two.”
Martha folded the letter and looked at Jake. “It’s signed, ‘Your loving father, Micah Bartlett.’”
Jake turned to his new aunt and uncle.
“Mattie,” he said, “can Aunt Fanny and Uncle Abijah come with us?”
“Jake,” Uncle Abijah said, “that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to us. But Aramintaville is our home, just like Liberty Falls is yours, and we have important work to do here. Besides, remember, we are runaway slaves. Here we are free. There we’d be in great danger.”
Jake nodded, his face reflecting his newfound understanding of his world. Then, as quickly as his frown had appeared, it vanished, leaving a beautiful smile in its place.
“Can we come and visit you next summer?” he asked.
“Yes, indeed,” Aunt Fanny answered. “We would like that very, very much. That is, if your mama and papa agree.”
Two weeks later as Martha and Jake stood outside enjoying the last of the autumn warmth, they spotted a familiar figure walking up the street with a satchel in one hand.
“Papa!” Jake shouted. “Mattie, there’s Papa.”
Within the blink of an eye, he took off, running as fast as his almost-eight-year-old legs could carry him. Martha followed, nearly tripping over her skirt in her rush to reach him.
“Papa, Papa,” she sobbed as she felt his arms enfold her. There they stood—Martha, Jake, and their papa—hugging and hugging. Martha could not tell if her face was wet from tears or kisses.
Once all the hugging and kissing were done, Martha forced out a sentence she could not hold back.
“Papa, you didn’t mention Mama in your letters. How is she?”
“I am hopeful for her, Mahthah. Before I left home, I sat with her and told her about the slave catchers and Robert Dawes and said that I was coming to bring you home. For the first time in many months, she smiled that lovely smile of hers and said, ‘Thank thee, Micah. Thank thee for bringing my babies home.’ She will be waiting to embrace you.”
“And what about Granma Lucy?” asked Jake.
“And Mrs. Perry,” added Martha.
“I don’t know,” their papa replied. “Lucy is most likely still on the plantation. No one has heard from Mrs. Perry. Some say she fled town. Others that she perished in the fire.”
There was silence for several seconds. Then Martha said, “And Papa, no more lies?”
“Never, Mahthah. I promise. No more lies.”
Martha grinned and, with one arm looped through her papa’s arm and the other holding Jake close, she led them to the house to meet a welcoming Aunt Fanny and Uncle Abijah.
Letter to the Reader
Dear Reader,
Martha and the Slave Catchers takes place during a time of turmoil in US history. The country was torn between two opposing sentiments: pro-slavery and anti-slavery. Tensions that were building during the 1830s and 1840s became worse with the passage of the Compromise of 1850, which incorporated a new version of the Fugitive Slave Law. From that point on, people living in free states were forced by law to participate in the capture and return of runaway slaves. As a result, the Underground Railroad and local Vigilance Committees worked all the harder to help fugitives reach a safe haven. No longer could those fugitives rely on the security of Northern states. Their freedom was not granted unless they reached Canada.
Since the beginning of the slave trade in the US, more than 100,000 enslaved people made attempts to free themselves. The majority of those were young, strong men who traveled alone. But there were also small groups and even families who made the run for freedom. If captured and returned, they faced torture, maiming, and possible death. In Martha’s story, we learn about Jake’s biological mother, Mariah, and her desperate attempt to free herself and her unborn child from the grip of Robert Dawes. Mariah arrived at Martha’s aunt and uncle’s home alone. How did she get there? Did she travel by herself? Did she have a guide? We never learn about her experience because she died before saying even one word about it.
Those fugitives who traveled through Philadelphia often met with the great abolitionist William Still, who recorded their experiences. They were not made public until 1872, when the stories could be safely told. You can find the book online at no cost. Look for The Underground Railroad: A Record of Facts, Authentic Narrative, Letters, &c., Narrating the Hardships, Hair-breadth Escapes and Death Struggles of the Slaves in their efforts of Freedom, as Related by Themselves and Others, or Witnessed by the Author. You will be amazed by the number of people who risked their lives on their journey to freedom.
The story of the Underground Railroad is an exciting one. My favorite book on the topic is Fergus M. Bordewich’s Bound for Canaan: The Epic Story of the Underground Railroad, America’s First Civil Rights Movement (2005). It gives a thorough view of the network of safe houses and routes that fugitives might have used to reach freedom up North. For Martha’s story, I decided to center on the location and routes primarily used by Harriet Tubman
, a woman I am sure that you have heard about in your classes or in books, movies, or TV shows. For solid information on Tubman’s life and trips to Maryland to help free others, I relied on Kate Clifford Larson’s Bound for the Promised Land: Harriet Tubman, Portrait of an American Hero (2004). It is a wonderful book. Both of these books on the Underground Railroad were written for adults, but I am sure that you would find the stories in them very exciting, clear, and readable.
For me, Martha and Jake are very much like the real people I wrote about in my adult book, Growing Up Abolitionist: The Story of the Garrison Children (2002). You see, I was very curious to know how people involved in the anti-slavery movement raised their children, so I spent ten years researching and writing about the family of William Lloyd Garrison, the anti-slavery leader responsible for the publication of the weekly newspaper The Liberator. I read thousands of personal letters from every member of the family, written to each other and to hundreds of other anti-slavery activists. I learned a great deal about how the parents taught their children to become the next generation of anti-slavery activists if slavery did not end in their own lifetimes.
Many of the details of Martha and Jake’s lives are the same as those of real white and black abolitionist children in the 1800s, especially those who helped runaway slaves through the work of the Underground Railroad. Their home lives, the secrets they kept and, sometimes, the lies they heard and told, and their education through magazines, newspapers, and children’s books were part of their childhood experiences. Their parents were their heroes, as were such great leaders as Harriet Tubman, who plays a key role in Martha and Jake’s story. Abolitionist children were very aware of the dangers their role models faced to fight against slavery.
And as you saw in Martha and Jake’s story, the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850, in particular, affected their safety and well-being. Martha, like many real abolitionist children, knew about the kidnapping of Northern children by slave catchers seeking to make an easy dollar from rewards for returning fugitives to slavery. Of course, it was easy for a slave owner to claim a person was a runaway if an individual even slightly resembled one of their former “possessions.” So these slave catchers (or slave hunters as they were also called) snatched free children just walking along the road on their way to school or running an errand. It became dangerous for children of color to be out on their own. The examples I use in Martha’s reading of the newspapers came from a booklet published by the American Anti-Slavery Society in 1856 called Anti-Slavery Tracts, No. 18. The Fugitive Slave Law and Its Victims. These were all real stories about real people, many of them children. I changed the dates of two of the stories to fit into my narrative, but the tales are still true. You can find this document free online if you want to read it for yourself.
Martha and the Slave Catchers Page 18