While making progress at a solid pace, the fugitives returned to their former air of determined confidence. Putting distance between themselves and Grossman’s Hollow lessened the mental drain of their awful encounter. When the cover of late evening fell, they set camp amidst a concealed rise of poplars. A well-deserved spot of rest was secured.
By the time a lazy yellow dawn crested the Georgian sky they were already on the move. Surprisingly, there was no evidence of a second team of riders closing in on them. Fast strides were made all morning as they strained to reach the port city. But as midafternoon approached, their pace slackened. At that time Fletcher turned back and came towards them.
“I hope everyone is holding up, because in another couple of hours we will be in Savannah!” Expressions of happiness rushed over every fatigued body. Fletcher continued.
“Upon arrival our plans will still be incomplete. We must act with even more alertness in the city surroundings. Not that we will be traipsing down the main avenue. Our secreted route will take us away from the heart of town. Once there I will give further instructions. Are we all clear? Then let’s carry on.”
Fletcher sensed the eagerness of everyone to press forward. Perhaps they thought reaching Savannah would mean the end of lustful pursuit by bounty hunters. And while that may be true, he knew another set of potential perils lay in wait at the water’s edge in Savannah.
Knowing it was silly to voice these issues, Fletcher stayed silent, mentally preparing for tasks ahead. After all, he wanted his charges to enjoy a brief glimmer of optimism in this desperate scramble.
A few hours later they arrived at a broad expanse of river which cut across their path, halting all further progress. Fletcher stood waiting for them with both forearms crossed. His face was furrowed in contemplation.
“Something’s wrong here Fletcher,” said a confused Clarence. “There ain’t any way we can get across that river without a boat or raft.” All of the escapees bore looks of sheer frustration with this latest obstacle.
“We ain’t getting across that, with all those alligators and things just waiting to tear us apart,” Clarence continued. “Besides, I don’t even know how to swim!”
“Looks that way don’t it?” Fletcher replied. “But remember that we’re going to a port city that happens to be on this very river! The Savannah River is what you see before you. You didn’t think we would be traveling straight into town did you? This will be the longer route, though we will be unseen for the most part. We will follow the water right to the port district, taking cover where we can.
“I already know the building we will be hiding in. I have used it for every escape.” Unknown to the others was who owned that building. He happened to be a successful merchant abolitionist who availed resources to Fletcher whenever possible. Fletcher thought the utmost of Benson Green and his unfailing charity.
On hearing these words the escapees breathed a collective sigh of relief. Not that any one of them doubted the capacity of their legendary leader, though harrowing events at Grossman’s Hollow frayed tender nerves. With no further ado, Fletcher signaled everyone to follow his lead.
Travel became slower with this change in terrain. Underfoot, ground was seriously damp, with tall wild weeds and muck hindering their pace. Regardless, their spirit did not waver as they closed in on the Savannah docklands. Before long, muffled sounds could be heard in the distance. Further on these noises grew louder as nature’s rough yielded to scattered signs of human settlement.
Once again Fletcher returned from his advanced position towards the others. “We have arrived at the city’s edge. It will be too dangerous for us to continue while there is still sunlight. I know an old cabin hidden in some deep brush where we can hole up till nightfall. Keep close and we will make our way there.”
Heightened anticipation rippled throughout the group as they realized their first goal was ever so close. In any event, there would be time to rest while holed up in a tattered brown shed. Once inside Clarence took first watch, while the others snatched precious rest.
Later, as nightfall buried the evening sky in a topcoat of ink, Swamp Man’s Scout heralded the fugitives to attention. “It’s time to move on. Stay close and follow my lead. Welcome to Savannah.”
Nightfall provided good cover to conceal their whereabouts. As the clustering of wooden structures became denser, Fletcher imparted further instructions.
“Does everyone see the large two story blue warehouse?” He pointed directly to the structure. “That is where we will hide.” Fletcher knew where Benson Green hid a spare key for his usage. Once his charges were safely inside, he moved quickly to the most important business thus far.
“Come gather around,” he instructed. “We made it this far by keeping faith in our goal. Just remember that a lot can still go wrong. I now have to make contact with a gentleman whom will help us greatly.
“For the moment, each one of you must stay hidden in this building until we come for you, regardless of time. Understood?” The remaining four nodded their consent. “I shall take leave of you. Be ready at first sight of dawn for our arrival.”
Fletcher disappeared while his last words hung in the stuffy quarters of this large old building. Fortune took it upon himself to reinforce his position as second in command, preparing the others for tomorrow.
“We shall take advantage of this time to get some needed sleep. I will take first watch.” Everyone took him at his word and enjoyed a rare moment of solitude.
Morning’s poking beams of sunlight rustled all to an early rise. It would be hard to contain the brewing anticipation washing over everyone. Contemplative silence continued during consumption of what little food they had. All eyes and ears were concentrated on hearing the return of their leader.
Minutes crept into hours as the fugitives kept their vigil. All the while their thoughts turned increasingly fearful. What if Fletcher were captured? What if the man he was to meet never appeared? And, sakes alive, how much time did they have before being discovered? Each kept their grim thoughts to themselves, not daring to give such ills an audience. They understood the pointless consequence of voicing such concerns aloud.
In the third hour a steady knock was heard on a rear entrance. Fortune came over to answer the door, looking first through a crude peephole. There stood a smiling Fletcher beside a rather refined gentleman dressed in tasteful garments. Both seemed anxious to get inside. Fortune quickly dropped the latch to allow them entrance.
“Good morning Fortune,” sung out a happy Fletcher. “I apologize for the wait, but we had some details to work out. Captain Amos Clark, I would like you to meet Fortune Smith. He is a most capable second in charge.”
Surprisingly to Fortune, the man extended his hand in greeting. Such an event was unheard of in the contemporary Deep South. Recovering from his initial confusion, he met Captain Clark’s hand with a firm shake.
“Glad to have made your acquaintance Fortune,” said the captain. “Fletcher holds you in high regard. Given his good judgment, I am inclined to do the same. Are these people the rest of your party?” Captain Clark gestured to the far corner where the remaining three watched in rapt attention.
“Yes, that’s Clarence, Thomas and Rodney. All good men, ready to do whatever it takes,” answered Fletcher. “I guess it’s time to inform the party of our next moves.” Soon they were all gathered around a crude wooden table.
“I am pleased to welcome my good friend and compatriot Captain Amos Clark. His assistance has been vital to all six of my previous escapes. Now we are partnered a seventh time to complete another run. Captain Clark owns Betty Rose, a large merchant vessel which travels a triangle trade route. Fortunately, fellow seamen don’t know his craft is a means of escape for quite a number of fugitives.”
Fletcher paused before continuing. “I aim to keep this plan very simple. We will be helping Captain Clark to finish loading
his vessel. Usually we time our boarding for escapes to the last possible moment. Though the cargo of goods only arrived at morning to delay our plans. Thus we had to work out another way.
“The moment all cargo is aboard we are down the river to the Atlantic. So let’s make haste with our task and not arouse suspicion. If you run into any troubles locate either me or Captain Clark. Do not lose the fruit of our efforts in the final moments. Am I clear? Then follow Captain Clark to Betty Rose. He will show you where the cargo is waiting for loading. Talk to no one and work quickly!”
Captain Clark led the procession down to Betty Rose. All were confronted with a hive of heightened activity routine to the port district. Strange combinations of exotic smells with arrays of foreign goods added to the intoxicating bustle.
Ships with their crews loaded down under heaving crates spilled out in organized confusion. Seaman, longshoremen, and slaves rolled oak barrels down steep ramps or carried up cumbersome packages. Each precious article was destined to or from a locale far beyond the confines of sunny Savannah. After days upon end of thickets, woods and meadow it was all so invigorating to be amongst this humming torrent.
To Fletcher it was just another stop along their journey, presenting different dangers to overcome. But oh he understood how exciting this new world would be to the virgin eyes of his escapees! Now their visions would be unfettered, with minds unshackled from those stifling plantations. For here in all its ragged glory represented a world outside neutered ambitions; a chance to taste one tiny sliver of true living.
Fortune felt an odd sensation while striding through the to and fro before him. Sudden flashbacks to Africa snapped into his conscious as he tried to recall his last free days before White Rose. He once knew what it meant to be a man of his own destiny. His desire to reclaim that life afforded him strength to see past imminent perils. Then a sharp tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality.
“Fortune, I’m taking Thomas and Rodney to work with me. You and Clarence go further down the side of the ship with Captain Clark. There’s no time to waste.” With that, Swamp Man’s Scout led the two men away. A few moments later they were loading Betty Rose with cargo.
“Here you are Fortune,” motioned the captain. “You and Clarence can put these items on board. When you’re finished we set sail. Don’t worry. My foreman will alert me when all is ready. No need trying to find me.” Captain Amos Clark left the duo to begin their work.
A lazy sun seared into mid-morning radiant heat while fugitives toiled alongside crewmen of Betty Rose. Progress was steady, as barrel and crate were placed into the gaping hold. At their current pace, the foreman could see completion by high noon.
Pausing to wipe beading sweat from his perspiring forehead, Fortune spied a tandem of White dockhands muttering furiously amongst each other. He put it down to petty differences before continuing to load.
Minutes later, as he rolled another barrel up the sturdy plank, one of those same men started pointing at him and Clarence. It took only a few seconds before he came marching over with two other fellows. At that point, an overwhelming feeling of vulnerability filled Fortune.
“Hey boy, look over here!” hollered a nasty voice. “Stop what you’re doing and bring your darkie pal as well.”
Fortune knew exactly who spoke these curt instructions. Slowly he put down the barrel and lifted his head. The pointing dockhand stood arms folded between two growling companions. Their disparaging demeanor gave off an air of despotic supremacy. Fortune walked over to an oblivious Clarence and motioned him to attention. Soon the angry trio came forward.
“I haven’t seen you two in these parts before. And believe me; I know all the darkies that work this dock! So we’re curious. Who are you and who the hell’s your master? Cause there’s talk that more and more runaways are trying to set up a new life down here before moving on.”
Fortune looked past the stranger to see if he could spot the captain, but to no avail. The situation appeared grim, though Fortune had to respond.
“You must be mistaken sir. We’ve been working up and down the coast for months with our master, but we haven’t docked in Savannah for a while.”
“Do you think I’m going to take you at your word?” replied the group’s leader in mock surprise. “Listen fool. I have a feeling today is my lucky payday. And since there’s nobody I consider my equal saying otherwise, you two are coming with us. I can spot a runner a mile away! That’s why they call me Hunter Bob. Ever hear of me boy?”
Clarence kept silent, placing his trust in Fortune to guide a way through the confrontation. He didn’t realize Fortune had heard of Hunter Bob, the legendary bounty man. His reputation as a no nonsense, brutal hand was well known amongst many slaves in Georgia. This unscrupulous character would show no mercy.
“Listen here,” countered Fortune. “Our master is somewhere on the docks. He will…”
Before another word fell from his lips, the three had grabbed him and Clarence in rough arm holds. “Start walking with us now!” barked out Hunter Bob. “I have no more time to waste. There’s money to collect on your hides!”
Clarence and Fortune were forced towards a goods shop where these three huddled moments before. “Perhaps the others will still be able to get away with the ship,” thought Fortune. “For the hour of sacrifice is now upon us.” Hearing vile shrieks of laughter from the thin parched lips of Hunter Bob further dampened his spirits.
“See that shop ahead?” queried Hunter Bob. “There’s a back room in there with a few posts. I’m gonna tie you both up until I find a buyer for your black asses. Just be glad I see a dollar to be had! I’ve been having a bad time lately and could have slit your throats just as easily.”
Approaching ever so closely to the yawning gap of open doorway, Fortune felt more bitter than sad. Once they passed into the shop, there would be no sign of their whereabouts.
It was at that point Fortune remembered Fletcher’s vows to never surrender without fighting. Looking briefly towards Clarence he gave a quick wink to make sure he acknowledged their situation. Before he received a response, a voice in the distance rang out with increasing clarity.
“Hello there up ahead! Can you hear me? Please stop for a moment.” The unfamiliar voice rose above the steady hum of dockland clatter until it came right up behind them. Fortune and Clarence were brought to a stop by their capturers.
“Glad you heard me,” said the smiling, well -dressed stranger. “I’ve been looking for these boys! We haven’t loaded up all our molasses.”
Hunter Bob walked up to the smart gentleman while sporting a disbelieving look. “You saying these are your boys? What proof do you have? Cause their asses belong to me unless you have something that says otherwise.” As soon as those words left his crusty mouth, the gruff hunter’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Richard dear fellow, here you are. Is there a problem here Hunter Bob?” Captain Amos Clark cut a confident, imposing figure as he approached. It appeared enough to counter the heavy aggression of this trio.
“Oh, um, hello there Captain Clark. I honestly didn’t know you were with this man. Thought I had found me some runaways on the lam. You know that’s becoming a big problem hereabouts. And we’re trying to keep the order of things down here.”
“I hear you Hunter Bob. Runaways are bad for business. This gentleman is my able foreman Richard, and those two I bought some time ago.
“Everything’s in order, but you might exercise less haste in the future? I can’t make money while my cargo sits on the docks and I’m searching for my slaves. As for you three, we need to get a move on; we set sail in a couple of hours!”
Richard took Fortune and Clarence back towards Betty Rose. Turning to the three men, Captain Clark put firm hands on his haunches.
“Looks like fine weather for a sail, don’t it? Enjoy the afternoon gentlemen. I have business that requires my attentio
n.”
Hunter Bob cowered low, straining to muster a response. “Once again I give my regrets Captain Clark, though they did look like runaways. I wish the best of tidings to you and your crew.” But Captain Clark had already departed mid-sentence, leaving no audience for groveling. With a quick whirl they melded back into the hazy recesses of dockside commerce.
Walking away, Fortune and Clarence breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Thanks for your help Richard,” offered a grateful Fortune. “They had us in a mighty spot of trouble.”
“All in a day’s work,” reasoned Richard. “Those scoundrels have more than their share of controversies with other folks here. They are not highly thought of in any quarter. Now let’s finish so we can set sail.”
Time passed smoothly in the absence of further incidents. Before long Richard signaled everyone together.
“Have we everyone here? All our cargo is loaded. Captain wants to leave without further delay. That means all on board this instant!”
One could not imagine the sheer exhilaration in the hearts of five amidst many. For in their minds, some small meal of liberty was about to appear, away from the grinding midnight of servitude. And now, as captain prepared to set sail on Betty Rose, they had achieved something truly priceless. Fortune, Clarence, Thomas and Rodney had a future; its ample costs paid in deep wages of tenacious survival.
A short time later proud sails lapped up transparent breezes of billowing wind. The good ship cut these familiar depths of Savannah River in determined plough. Upon her seasoned deck, smiles of joy were tempered while still in sight of the docklands. Experienced crew tended the craft as Captain Clark retired to his quarters below. And all the while time moved ever forward as a flowing river gave way to mighty ocean.
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