The Watchman's Grace

by Craig Johnson

  Darlene was furious with his accusing manner. “You have the nerve to put charges against me after being caught forcing yourself on poor Maria? Leave my presence this instant you rotten fool! When you have a mind for becoming a real man instead of the imposter you portray we will discuss things. This is a very fine line you are walking. Make sure you’re on the right side of it!”

  Swiftly she left Harriston’s presence, leaving him to stew in a cauldron of rage, hesitation and fear. If only she had let him finish his undertaking, he could have eliminated this threat to good order at White Rose. Now, not only was he spared, though it was painfully clear Darlene’s support would not allow such a base end to Fortune Smith.

  Turning away, he headed back towards the main study to have a stiff shot of whisky. There, he would calm his nerves while planning ahead. For now he realized more challenges lay on the horizon at White Rose Plantation.

  A few weeks after his horrible ordeal, Fortune went about daily tasks with little incident. As for Mister Whip, he had been away from White Rose attending business in several surrounding counties. One could feel the suffocating mass of constant tension melt away in his absence.

  Darlene Smith headed the plantation whenever her husband was away. And although she was not without the basic prejudices of her contemporaries, she possessed a more charitable nature. Fortune knew it was her intervention which saved his life, so he held her in favorable regard. As with everything in the complex fabric of plantation life, nothing was as it appeared.

  In the aftermath, Fortune’s mind constantly returned to the topic of escape. He held dear those precious words from Ginger, but heard nothing since his recovery that Sunday. Therefore, Fortune’s concerns mounted while combating unease with his precarious position.

  Fortune knew Ginger was highly respected as a person of her word. But how could she accomplish this plan? What means did she possess to get through the heavy oppression of White Rose? And where did liberty have a home for him? Surely nowhere in the Deep South of America! Despite maintaining a calm exterior, Fortune felt unsettled within.

  Today, as he did every Tuesday evening, Fortune delivered a special mixture of oats and roughage to Mister Whip’s favorite horse Maple. Mister Whip was insistent that this feed, which only he prepared, be given to Maple once a week.

  While approaching his destination, the sun’s radiant globe was rolling down to a western comfort of resting skyline. On reaching Maple’s stall, Fortune bent down to place the mixture in her feeding trough. Suddenly, a low-pitched male voice called out his name.

  “Fortune, is that you near the horse?”

  A startled Fortune replied. “Yes it is. Who is that speaking?”

  “You need not worry Fortune. I have but one question to ask you, and mark my words well. Are you ready to drink from the sweet chalice of freedom regardless of what it will ask of you?”

  Instantly Fortune’s sharp memory flashed back to those same words from Ginger weeks ago. “Yes, I am ready,” he responded confidently.

  “That is good to hear! From now on you must be alert to the messages which will guide you to freedom. You need not seek us out. When the time comes we will seek you out if there is something to tell. For now remember to meet Ginger Thursday evening at first nightfall in her quarters. I need not remind you to always be alone, and make sure you are not followed. Do you understand Fortune?”

  He drank in each word like a parched man dying of thirst. “I understand, and thank you for the instructions.” As soon as he responded, a slight rustling in the near distance signaled he was alone again with Maple.

  Weighty anticipation infused each passing hour leading to Fortune’s next meeting with Ginger. Yet heady excitement was tempered by the awesome truth of possible perils ahead. Despite the supreme adventure in which he now played actor, any hint of change would catch unwanted attention.

  At White Rose, eyes were always watching for perceived transgressors. It would take little for bloodthirsty overseers to see a way to satisfy their craven desire to punish. Even certain servants, desperate to curry favor with their master, would think nothing of betrayal for petty gain. Victory would only be achieved through stealth, diligence and silence. Not an ounce less would be demanded for this endeavor.

  Thursday heralded the next step in Fortune’s blossoming quest for liberty. He waited in anxious anticipation of the evening, though on the outside appeared the same work-a-day machine overseers expected. As the glowing rays of Georgian sun went into a slipcover of soft nightfall, Fortune readied for his rendezvous.

  At this time of day, most plantation workers stole precious hours with loved ones. But there were also solitary numbers without the luxury of familial company. Broken away time ago from wives, husbands and siblings, they reflected on the fate of their departed. And each day they recalled the impartial thump of an auctioneer’s gavel which separated their heart from the whole of a family.

  Fortune’s own desire to be reunited with his homeland made this meeting ever so vital. He could have no miscues if this possibility were to become an eventuality. Therefore, tonight’s visit would be conducted in stealth on the perimeter’s dark fringes. And when he finally reached Ginger’s abode, there was much haste to usher him inside.

  “Hello Ginger’” sang out an excited Fortune.

  “It’s so good to see you again my son. Did you make sure you were not followed?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Well sit down. Let me prepare a little food for your hunger bug.” Ginger motioned him towards a wooden stool and warmed a stew on her cooking pot.

  “I had to use some explaining to get you on this journey,” Ginger continued as she turned back to face Fortune. “They’ve been preparing for a few meetings, though the timing has not yet shown itself. I said you’re a fast learner, so they’re making an exception for you. Is that a problem Fortune?”

  Though he was still in the dark as to any details, time was fleeting. Any day Mister Whip could turn his outbursts of sudden violence into murder.

  “I’ve never been so sure about anything. How do we do this?”

  Ginger placed a steaming bowl of hearty broth on a table in front of his stool. “Well there’s a lot to go over. I’ll start with meeting times. When a meeting time is made you will be told by someone beforehand. Never try to see who is giving you the news ‘cause you’ll put everyone in danger. Carry out your chores up to the day you leave with no changes. Do not raise any eyebrows for any reason. Surprise is success ‘cause it gives you time to make distance.” Ginger continued at length about the actions required of any potential escapee.

  “Did you catch everything I said?” inquired Ginger, pausing to let everything sink in. “If not, let me know right now. I put days of meetings into what I just said to catch you up with the rest of them. So it’s not an issue if you need me repeating something.”

  “You were as clear as a Sunday church bell.”

  Ginger let a slight smile curl her lips. “Then I’m done with you now. But there’s one more thing you’ve got to remember as surely as your name. It will be the difference between life and death on the run.”

  Fortune’s ears strained to hear what Ginger was about to say. “What is that?”

  Ginger leaned beside Fortune’s right ear for effect. “When you hear the words HICKORY FIRE IS BURNING you must fight! Heaven forbid you run into bounty hunters or the like. So if you hear your leader say those words you must take on whomever!

  “Remember, there will be no safe return if you are captured. And the way this train runs there is only one destination. Better to die fighting a free man than burned as a slave. Do you understand me?”

  A mortal chill raced up Fortune’s spine. All manner of hope lay in one good chance, nay opportunity. Turning back was not an option.

  “I stand before you as a man who once held the responsibility of many destinies
in my homeland. I feel this escape may put me in such a position again. I am grateful for all that you are doing. And may your memory in my destiny never be lost.” Fortune embraced Ginger in his sheltering arms, lightly sweeping her tearing check with a thankful kiss.

  Composing herself, Ginger continued. “There is more to the reason I’m helping you Fortune. I was not always the weathered old lady you see now. As strange as it may be in our wretched ordeal, I once found love here.

  “Yes, he was as headstrong as you, probably more! But his heart was as big as the ocean we came across, while his spirit for justice touched the blue sky. He was a true leader, the kind that make’s masters shrink in the presence of their manliness!

  “One day he was working in the fields when everyone heard a fit of screaming coming from Trader’s Creek over by the main section. None of the pickers would lift a head, but he was a just man! He sprang up to help whoever it was; in this case a distressed young thing. Thank goodness he rescued her with no time to spare!

  “Jesse was a hero. But his overseer was angry enough to give him ten lashes on the spot before reporting him to Master Smith. And that beast, that murderer, hanged my dear Jesse for insurrection! I’ve never been near Trader’s Creek since. How can I ever forget that water gives us life as surely as it takes it away? I just hope it gives you joy Fortune, and never drowns your dreams in misery!”

  Fortune moved silently to Ginger and gave her a warming embrace. No words were spoken during such heartfelt sympathy. Soon they came apart as Ginger wiped away a streaking tear.

  “Thank you Fortune. I will do everything and anything to help achieve some measure of justice! The Man up above asks no less of any of us on His earth. Those that find no such fervor within their soul cannot expect the same from Him! That’s how I survive each day Fortune. And that is why you are here tonight. Now let me tell you some more about the journey.”

  She gave Fortune a summation of all the information the other would be escapees had covered. An advantage of their native continent was a base in oral tradition, so words were readily absorbed and understood. Coming to the end of her instruction, Ginger spoke the following in an emphatic tone.

  “There will be a meeting two weeks from today down in the big swamp called Bitter Man. You know where the far north east corner of White Rose is? Do you know the place I am talking about?”

  Fortune nodded in acknowledgement. Ginger carried on.

  “Do not go there until nighttime hides your movements. The fewer eyes the better so they meet around midnight. Always make sure no one knows you’re going out anywhere. I don’t care if it’s your wife! This plantation has eyes and ears that look right but know no loyalty. Telling people risks the lives of everyone at Bitter Man. Am I making myself straight with you?”

  Fortune knew it would be quite the selfish scoundrel who could not comprehend the gravity of her words. To be sure, life and death was a daily theme at White Rose. But to be party to an escape plan was certain death for all involved. All it took was one happenstance indiscretion to place everyone in peril.

  “I heard every word you said, and offer the deepest gratitude I can muster. You saved my body from a vile ending on dirty ground. And now you are trying to save my future in some distant promised land. I’m leaving White Rose, Ginger, regardless of what happens. I can only hope it’s on this side of Heaven.”

  Ginger strode towards Fortune with arms outstretched. Immediately he rose to approach her harbor of a welcoming embrace. Together they symbolized a union of old aspirations with eternal hope for better tidings. An opportunity for a new beginning was accepted in the confines of Ginger’s dirt floor plantation abode.

  “If you remain true, I heard tell of things called benevolent societies that could take you back to Africa at no expense. From there you can track your way home and seize your former glory son!

  “Oh yes, when you go to Bitter Man say: “I come to seek the knowledge of my fellow man. And may it bring me peace for all time.” Then they will know you are good people. Now go back to your place. And put this meeting out of mind until the time comes. You’ve got to look like everything is the same! Good night Fortune.”

  Tonight everything had changed under a lazy slip of Georgian moonlight. Truth was, unless his brutal enslaver truly converted to his God’s written words, there would be no hope for Fortune in Georgia. Fortune could see a future coming when the pale man’s hypocrisy would engulf their country in chaos. But he did not have time to see his prediction proven right. Fortune Smith had made a decision to be free once again.

  Chapter Three

  THERE MUST BE A BETTER PLACE FOR US

  To grasp a hold of an ideal so dear we must conquer fear

  Fortune kept everything he heard last evening close to heart though shielded from mind. It was only in this fashion he would be able to function normally. He was fully aware the slightest of slips could attract unwanted attention. So in the role of dedicated servant Fortune remained for the next two weeks.

  These intervening days prodded along in an unending flow of numbing, solitary repetition. The lulling stupor of thankless tasks was only met with a restraint of corporal punishment. Would it not be too much of a supposition to state that one would trade a year of servitude for just one day in a freedman’s life? By the time Thursday morning arrived, Fortune could hardly have lasted one more day.

  With his next meeting just hours away, Fortune’s subconscious determined a manner of direction to the pending rendezvous. Though he had visited the area a number of times, it would be a different matter entirely to find it amidst midnight. Nevertheless, Fortune realized obstacles would be a constant from this moment forward, with steep efforts required at every stage.

  As the hours sped ahead, Fortune continued his tasks in an ambivalent fashion. Soon, a burning globe of fire slowly descended on the western horizon. While another routine migration of field hands from the cotton fields had begun, Fortune was still hard at labor till all was complete. Only upon finishing the last of his duties did he retire to his quarters.

  Now he could ready himself for adventure. When he placed a trusty wooden handled pocket knife into his trousers, all was set for departure. Fortune afforded enough time to make Bitter Man for midnight while taking a circuitous path. He was committed to avoiding detection, but not at the expense of punctuality.

  A nighttime breeze tapped ever so gently across Fortune’s face while he surveyed the scene outside his cabin. Luckily, there appeared not one hint of activity. Moving quickly, Fortune went into the shadowy fringes to begin his trek.

  He advanced cautiously on soft ground, avoiding the brittle snap of twigs and dead branches. After a little while he eased up on his attentiveness, as the way ahead appeared without pending danger. But before long his senses were brought to high alert. Just ahead, Fortune spied a shadow break from the canopy of stillness.

  “Who is it?” thought Fortune after a second movement confirmed one human silhouette. “Perhaps someone on a quiet evening walk?” As Fortune continued to watch, a sickening feeling crept over him. Fifty feet ahead lay a fork in the path. If the figure turned left they were headed away from Bitter Man. A right turn would mean Fortune had company, since there was no other destination on that fork of trail.

  Fortune kept cover while straining to see which way the shadow traveled. Moments seemed an eternity as this figure desired to escape detection themselves. Then, just as the critical juncture approached, a quick bolt to the right fork raced Fortune’s heart. The agile shadow was heading towards Bitter Man.

  Many thoughts assaulted Fortune’s mind. After a brief assessment of his racing conscious he arrived at two hasty conclusions. His initial reaction was the person ahead was going to Bitter Man like himself to take part in this meeting. Though on further review there was a second possibility. Perhaps here was someone sent to spy on events and report back to Mister Whip?

 
Fate lay in the balance as this unknown figure approached Bitter Man. Fortune kept them in his sight to watch what would unfold.

  It was not long before the fetid smell of Bitter Man overpowered one’s nostrils with stenches of dank water and dripping ferns. Such a place conspired to keep old secrets unsolved. As the midnight hour approached, the figure ahead breached its cover, walking the remaining distance in plain sight. An easing breeze of cool relief rippled furrowed sweat on Fortune’s brow. Surely an unexpected onlooker would not betray their presence in such a fashion?

  Further into these swallowing folds of swamp the figure came to a stop. They appeared to be accepted by others in a loose gathering. Keeping to his cover, Fortune strained his ears to ascertain the identity of all assembled.

  Drawing closer, he could only make out hushed tones. These people must have known their voices could carry far in still night air. Finally deciding to join the assembled, Fortune broke from sheltering confines. While walking, he remembered Ginger’s greeting for identifying himself to other would-be escapees.

  “I come to seek the knowledge of my fellow man” spoke Fortune as he approached the gathering. “And may it bring me peace for all time.”

  Immediately a man of medium height yet strong build approached him with an outstretched right hand. “Welcome Fortune. You are punctual, which will serve you well. My name is Fletcher, and we are all gathered tonight for bringing peace and freedom to each of our lives.”

  Fortune took his firm hand in turn and shook a confident greeting. It was very strange indeed how Fortune instinctively trusted this stranger. Though in plantation life it was this sixth sense which many workers relied on to survive. So at that moment Fortune became party to their clandestine activities. The fraternity then renewed acquaintances amongst themselves.