Freedom Bound

by Jean Rae Baxter

  Turning her head, she saw that Phoebe was already entering the room. She held Noah by the hand, his grey eyes peeking from around her skirt. Nick stood in the kitchen doorway, watching.

  “Well, Phoebe,” the man said. “I hear that you’re a free woman now.”

  “Yes, sir. I am free.” Phoebe’s manner showed that same dignity Charlotte had noticed at the slave market.

  “But your child is not.” He spoke with the confidence of someone accustomed to having his own way. “The fact is, Phoebe, you’re in possession of stolen property.”

  Phoebe held her ground. “I’m free. My son is free.”

  “Now, Phoebe, you know better than that. You were my property at the time of his birth. That makes him my property.” There was not so much as a glimmer of kindness in his grey eyes. Only steely determination.

  Charlotte spoke up. “This little boy is free. He has lived for a year behind British lines.”

  “That’s right,” Nick added. “He’s entitled to a General Birch certificate.”

  Morley laughed. “Those rules no longer apply. Remember, the British lost the war. They aren’t handing out any more General Birch certificates. I’ve already looked into this. If a runaway slave already holds a valid certificate, the United States of America will recognize his freedom. Wisely or not, the terms of peace make that provision. But I doubt that this child . . .” At that moment he really looked at Noah for the first time. When he saw the eyes that were the colour of his own, he flinched.

  It took a moment for him to recover his self-possession. Then he continued. “I doubt whether a child this young has assisted the British for the required year.”

  Phoebe’s voice was fierce. “You can’t have him.”

  “Mr. Morley, you must leave,” said Charlotte. “If Mrs. Doughty were here, she would not welcome you under her roof.”

  “Then let’s take care of this business before she returns. I have a buyer for the boy, a wealthy planter whose son is one year old. He wishes to purchase a suitable boy to be a lifetime servant for his son. He wants one who’s about the same age, so they can grow up together.”

  “Get out!” Nick strode to the door, raising one closed fist. He looked as if he could, and would, hurl Morley into the street.

  Morley protested. “Sir, it is none of your business what I do with this child. I have suffered a good deal at the hands of the Tories. I was imprisoned in a dungeon. My warehouse was seized. My house was occupied by pen pushers who drank all my wine. It will take months to rebuild my business. Some reparation is due. If I can make a few pounds by selling a piece of my property, that surely is my right.”

  “A human being is not property.” Nick’s voice was cold with contempt.

  Morley blustered. “I had hoped to handle this with no fuss. Since that isn’t possible, I’ll be back tomorrow with a magistrate’s order and a couple of strong men to back it up.” He glared at Phoebe. “Punishment will be severe if you attempt to hide the child.” His lips compressed into an ugly line.

  As he turned to leave, he bumped right into Mrs. Doughty coming through the doorway, followed by Patience, Charity and Joseph.

  “Excuse me,” he said, and kept on going.

  For a long moment no one spoke. Mrs. Doughty broke the silence. “What was Mr. Morley doing here?”

  “He’s going to take my baby and sell him. Mrs. Doughty, please help me!” Dropping to her knees beside Noah, she wrapped her arms around her child and buried her face in his soft neck.

  Charlotte and Nick explained to Mrs. Doughty all that had happened.

  When they finished, Mrs. Doughty said, “I’m not sure what we can do. But one thing is certain: Phoebe and Noah must leave Charleston before morning.”

  Chapter 33

  “WE MUST TAKE them with us to Nova Scotia,” said Charlotte.

  “They can’t come with us,” said Nick. “Phoebe didn’t enroll. Her name isn’t on the passenger list.”

  “There must be a way.”

  “Earlier, I might have been able to do something. But it’s too late. Enrollment closed in mid-August.”

  “But surely, no one would object.”

  Nick shook his head. “There won’t be any exceptions, not even on compassionate grounds. The Savannah evacuation was a madhouse, with Loyalists battling each other to get onto the boats that would carry them out to the ships. Southern Command is determined not to let that happen here. This time, rules will be strictly enforced.” His voice fell. “I’m sorry. It’s beyond my control.”

  “Will thee stand by while this child is taken from his mother and sold?” Mrs. Doughty’s determined blue eyes regarded Nick steadily. “What good are thy principles if thee fails to act upon them?”

  Phoebe was crying and Noah was crying. Patience and Charity did the most sensible thing and took Joseph outside for a ride in the handcart.

  Charlotte waited a moment for Nick to say something. When he did not, she said hesitatingly, “What if . . .?”

  He turned his head toward her. “Yes?”

  “What if . . . we smuggle them on board?” Charlotte pointed to her trunk. “If I take out half my clothes and if Phoebe bends her knees, she’ll fit.”

  “You and I have been given a cabin,” Nick said thoughtfully. “If the trunk is brought to our cabin and not loaded into the hold . . . Yes. That will work.”

  Mrs. Doughty regarded the trunk. “I can ask Friend Levi to bring his brace and bit to bore air holes.”

  Phoebe lifted her face. “You can put me in that trunk, but not Noah.”

  “Of course not,” Charlotte assured her. “He’d cry. Even with you holding him, he’d be terrified.”

  “Then how can you get him onto the ship?” Phoebe asked.

  “In my arms. Look at him and look at me. My hair is black and nearly as curly. His skin is not much darker than mine. Who’s to say he’s not mine if I take him aboard?”

  “He hasn’t been enrolled, either,” Mrs. Doughty pointed out.

  “For a baby, that’s less of a problem,” said Nick. “We’ve been working on the evacuation for months. Since we started enrolling passengers, dozens of women have given birth. Nobody’s going to check the passenger list for a babe in arms.”

  Mrs. Doughty looked skeptical. “Noah’s not a babe in arms. He’s twenty-two months old.”

  “Look at Charlotte. A big strapping girl is bound to have a big strapping baby.”

  If the situation were not so serious, Charlotte might have hit him. Instead, she threw back her head and laughed.

  That broke the tension. Everybody laughed.

  “We’ll wrap Noah in a blanket and I’ll carry him,” said Charlotte. “Maybe no one will notice he’s the wrong size.”

  “What about me?” Phoebe asked. “You can’t keep me in a trunk all the way to Nova Scotia.”

  “We’ll figure it out as we go along,” said Nick. “If you’re discovered after we’re underway, the ship won’t turn back. Phoebe, nobody’s going to throw you overboard. I may find myself in a bit of trouble, but I’ll take that as it comes. We just have to smuggle you aboard and keep you hidden until we’re at sea.”

  “But what will happen to me and Noah when we get to Nova Scotia?”

  “The harbour’s at a town called Halifax,” said Nick. “Charlotte and I will find you and Noah a place to stay.”

  Phoebe lowered her face. “I won’t know anybody there.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Charlotte. “We’ll see that you’re comfortably settled before we go on to the Upper Country.”

  “You won’t be lonely,” said Nick. “Hundreds of holders of General Birch certificates will be evacuated from Charleston to Halifax. You’re almost certain to find people you know. And you’ll make new friends.”

  “Jammy will never be able to find me.”

  “Yes, he will!” Charlotte exclaimed. “When my family fled from the Mohawk Valley, nobody knew where we were going. Not even Nick. But he found me. Knowing Jammy, I
’m sure he can track you down.”

  “It may be a year before the Black Dragoons are evacuated,” said Nick. “So you must be patient. When Jammy’s ship reaches Halifax, he’ll find you.”

  Nick turned to Mrs. Doughty. “What’s Friend Levi’s address? I’ll go now to ask him to bring his brace and bit.”

  “His horse and cart, too,” said Mrs. Doughty. “So he can carry the trunks to the wharf.”

  Everything was done in such a rush that there was little time for embraces and goodbyes. Levi Blount drilled the holes in Charlotte’s trunk and helped Nick load the trunks onto his cart. There was just enough room on the narrow seat for Charlotte to sit beside Friend Levi, with Noah on her lap. Nick walked behind.

  Noah seemed happy to be riding on the cart, pulled by Friend Levi’s bay mare. His mother being in the trunk did not disturb him. He had watched her step into it and lie down on top of Charlotte’s old blue gown.

  “It’s a game like peek-a-boo,” Phoebe had explained. “You won’t see me before we’re on the big boat. And then I’ll pop up to surprise you.”

  By the time they reached the harbour, Noah was asleep.

  Their ship was the Esperanza, tied up at Wharf Eight and ready to board.

  “It’s bigger than the Blossom,” Charlotte said to Nick, “and looks much cleaner.”

  “She’s a new ship, built to carry spices and passengers in the West Indies trade. Britain requisitioned her for evacuating troops and Loyalists. She’s already served in the evacuation of Savannah. In due time, she’ll transport Loyalists and troops from New York City.”

  “There’s even a gangway, so we don’t have to climb a ladder. I was wondering how I’d do that, carrying Noah.”

  “Come.” Nick helped her down from the cart and tucked a blanket around Noah. “Let’s go aboard.”

  A young officer stood at the top of the gangway, holding an open register in his hands. His polished buttons gleamed in the moonlight. He waved to Nick, who waved back. Then Nick and Friend Levi carried first Nick’s trunk and then Charlotte’s onto the deck. Charlotte followed.

  They thanked Friend Levi and said goodbye, wishing him happiness as a married man.

  Under the brim of his black hat, there was a twinkle in his eye. “I have found me a fine wife, and three children ready-made. Who could ask the Lord for a greater blessing?” With that, he took his leave.

  “Glad to see you, Nick,” said the young officer.

  “Glad to be aboard, Harry. Is your regiment stopping in Halifax or going on to Montreal?”

  “Don’t know yet. Waiting for orders. What about you?”

  “I’ve been assigned to Carleton Island to help move Loyalists to the mainland.”

  Charlotte, trying to be inconspicuous, moved into the shadow of a large crate. Her trunk and Nick’s lay on the deck beside her. She hoped Nick and his friend wouldn’t talk too long, because Noah was getting heavier every second.

  “I need these trunks in our cabin,” Nick was saying. “There are papers in them I have to work on during the voyage. I can’t take any chance these trunks will end up in the hold.”

  Glancing toward the trunks, the officer noticed Charlotte.

  “I’ve not been introduced to Mrs. Schyler.”

  “Oh.” Nick beckoned her to approach. “Charlotte, I’d like you to meet Captain Moss. Harry, may I present my wife Charlotte.”

  She bowed as well as she could while holding a twenty-pound toddler in her arms.

  “Honoured to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Schyler.” He turned to Nick. “You never mentioned you and your wife had a baby.”

  “Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind.”

  “That’s just like you!” Captain Moss laughed. “Always with your nose in a book or your head in the clouds. You never notice what’s happening in the real world.”

  “About those trunks . . .” Nick said.

  Captain Moss called to two soldiers who stood at the railing. Taking a quick look at the sheet of paper in his hand, he said. “Men, take these trunks to Cabin 10.”

  “It’s not busy now,” he said to Nick. “Most passengers are already aboard.”

  The west wind carried the sound of St. Michael’s bells to Charlotte’s ears. She stood listening, knowing that she would never again hear their beautiful music upon the night air. Then she and Nick went below.

  Phoebe sat up groggily, one hand pressing the top of her head.

  “How was it?” Charlotte asked.

  “Just fine, until we went on board. After that, whoever was carrying the trunk didn’t know they had a passenger inside. They were shifting me this way and that, and then they tipped me headfirst.” She rubbed the top of her head. “I got a bit of a bump.”

  “That must have been while they were taking the trunk down to the cabin.”

  “I didn’t know what was going on. But as long as I could hear people talking, I wasn’t afraid.”

  Nick kindled a whale oil lamp that was bolted to a little table which in turn was bolted to the floor.

  By its light Charlotte saw that the cabin was small and neat. Two bunks, two chairs, and one table. There was a window with four tiny panes.

  “I like this ship.” Charlotte sniffed. “It smells of spices. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Ginger.”

  Noah was already asleep on the lower bunk, where Charlotte had laid him down. He had not wakened since dozing off in Friend Levi’s cart. Phoebe crawled into the bunk beside him.

  “We all need some rest,” said Nick.

  Charlotte scrambled up the ladder to the top bunk, followed by Nick.

  “This is so much nicer than the Blossom,” she said, snuggling against him. As she listened to the lapping of water against the hull, she felt a peace like a blanket drawn about them. Soon the gentle rocking of the ship lulled them both to sleep.

  When she woke in the morning, a low sun was streaming through the little window of the cabin. Footsteps thumped on the deck planks overhead. She felt the ship surging forward.

  “Wake up!” she nudged Nick. “We’re moving. Let’s go on deck!”

  “You must go alone,” he grunted. “If we’re both on deck at the same time, we have to take Noah with us, and he’s still sleeping.”

  “Phoebe’s here.”

  “Nobody but us knows that. You and I came aboard with a baby. What sort of parents would leave a baby alone in a cabin while they went up on deck?”

  She hadn’t thought about that. But now she did. “Nick, I’m afraid this is going to be a complicated voyage.”

  “For the past four years, my life has been a complicated voyage. Bringing an illegal passenger on board is just one more complication.”

  She kissed him. “Go back to sleep, dearest. Everything’s going to be fine.” She scrambled down the ladder from the bunk.

  As she left the cabin and made her way to the steep stairs that led up to the deck, Charlotte was not sorry to be alone. Her mind was filled with hopes and fears. She needed to be by herself to think.

  Not that she was alone when she reached the deck. Other passengers were clustered in little knots. Men and women. Families. Black people talking with other blacks, white people with other whites. Still separated, although bound together in their fate.

  These were the Loyalists of the Carolinas. She heard their soft southern accents, as well as the unfamiliar sounds of the Gullah tongue spoken by some of the former slaves. Their sad voices mingled with the creaking of masts and spars as the Esperanza, carried by the tide and driven by an offshore wind, crossed the harbour bar.

  Gladness filled her heart at the thought of returning to the Upper Country. But no signs of joy brightened the faces of her fellow passengers. They were leaving forever the land of their birth. Their hearts were in the Carolinas. All that awaited them in the unknown country to the north were forests to be cleared, homes to be built, and the certainty of hardship for the rest of their lives.

  Charlotte felt queasy. It wasn’t seasickness, although she in
tended for a time to pretend it was. She didn’t want to alarm Nick, who would probably treat her like an invalid and make her lie down half the day. Already she was aware every minute of the new life she held within her. Before this voyage ended, she would share her news with Nick. Together they would choose a name for a girl, a name for a boy.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The wording of the Deed of Manumission setting Phoebe free is adapted from a 1798 Deed of Manumission displayed in the Charleston Museum, Charleston, South Carolina. It reads as follows:

  State of South Carolina

  To all to whom these Presents shall come to be seen or made known, I Christopher Rogers of Charleston in the State aforesaid send Greeting. Know ye that I the said Christopher Rogers for and in consideration of the sum of one hundred Pounds Sterling to me in hand well and truly paid at or before the Sealing and Delivery of these Presents and for divers other good causes and considerations me thereunto especially moving, have manumitted, enfranchised and set free, and do by these Presents manumit, enfranchise and set free a certain mulatto man named Jehu Jones of and from all manner of bondage and Slavery whatsoever. To have and to hold such manumission and freedom unto the said Mulatto Man Jehu Jones for ever.

  In Witness whereof I have hereunto set my Hand and Seal the twenty second day of January in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and ninety-eight.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My thanks to Tony Youmans, Director, Old Exchange Building, Charleston, South Carolina, and to Jennifer Scheetz, Archivist with the Charleston Museum, for giving generously of their time to answer my questions and to direct me to other research sources that I would not have discovered without their help; to Frank Rupert UE, descendant of Loyalists who lived through the siege of Fort Ninety-Six and the subsequent flight to Charleston (and who offered me the loan of his extensive personal library on this subject); to my son John Baxter and his wife Anne Haberl for their patience and good humour in sacrificing their vacation in order to push my wheelchair over the brick sidewalks and cobbled street of Old Charleston after an unlucky accident came close to scuppering my research plans; and to my grandson Thomas Baxter for technical assistance. My thanks also to my daughter Alison Baxter Lean for her invaluable criticism; to my friends Susan Evans Shaw, Barbara Ledger, Trudi Down, Alexandra Gall, Linda Helson and Debbie Welland of the Creative Writing Group, University Women’s Club (Hamilton Branch), for their helpful critique of the opening chapters. And finally to Ronald B. Hatch, my publisher, for wanting this book and for always finding a way to be both exacting and encouraging as it developed through various drafts, and to Erinna Gilkison for her insightful editorial comments and practical suggestions.