“Your slave has a history of running away?” the judge asked.
Mr. Mason nodded. “Yes, sir. When he was owned by Mr. Ramsay, he ran away to the North, and was captured and returned.”
“And by what means did you secure him?”
“A head ornament with bells on it,” Mr. Mason replied.
The judge turned to Uncle Andrew. “Why did you want the head gear removed?”
“The bells made an awful noise, which I was certain would scare away the birds I had hoped to study,” Uncle Andrew replied.
The judge made a note of it, then waved at Mr. Mason to go on.
“He promised to take full responsibility if anything happened. They returned that afternoon without the head ornament. Mr. Jamison claimed that they had taken it off and forgotten where they left it. I realize now that it was merely a ploy to assist my slave’s escape.”
“Why do you believe it was a ploy?” the judge asked.
“Because my overseer later used his tracking dogs to find the head ornament. It had been clumsily stashed beneath a pile of leaves in the woods.”
“Clumsily stashed?” the judge inquired.
“If they had simply forgotten it, then it would have been sitting next to a tree or on a log. But to be pushed under a pile of leaves makes me believe it had been intentionally hidden. Who but my slave, Mr. Jamison, or his young assistant would have done it?”
The judge conceded the point. “Any response, Mr. Jamison?”
Uncle Andrew shook his head. “Your Honor, I would have to be a clairvoyant to know how the helmet wound up under the leaves. We had misplaced it and, after searching and failing to find it, we returned to Mr. Mason’s plantation. I offered to pay for the item, but he declined.”
“Is that true?” the judge asked Mr. Mason.
Mr. Mason was momentarily flustered. “Yes, it’s true. He cleverly offered. As a Southern gentleman, I refused his money out of courtesy. I have no doubt that as an abolitionist he has the financial backing of wealthy Northerners to pay for incidentals like that helmet. Unfortunately, it was the only one of its kind in this district. My overseer constructed it himself.”
The judge scratched his temple. “Let me understand, then, that Mr. Jamison returned your slave to you, but without the helmet.”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Mason answered.
“Then what happened?”
“As I said, the next day, my overseer took his tracking dogs into the woods and found the helmet. He returned to the plantation, whereupon he attempted to place it back on the head of my slave. But my slave refused, attacked my overseer, and ran away.”
The judge thought for a moment, then said to Uncle Andrew, “Your response?”
Uncle Andrew stood up. “Your Honor, I’m a stranger in these parts and must submit myself to the mercy of the court. The evidence against me is circumstantial at best. I admit to borrowing Mr. Mason’s slave and removing the helmet for the reason I had stated, but I see no proof that I enticed the slave to run away. That he did so was unfortunate for Mr. Mason and his overseer, but I cannot connect the event to anything I did. Surely you must be wondering the same thing, Your Honor.”
The judge agreed. “Mr. Mason, if you are to make a case against Mr. Jamison, then you must have more evidence to prove that he was an abolitionist who enticed your slave.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn’t imagine that Mr. Mason could come up with anything else. I breathed too soon.
“I have other suspicious elements, Your Honor,” Mr. Mason said.
“Speak, then.”
“I recall that when Mr. Jamison first arrived at my residence, he said nothing about a slave of mine knowing much about birds. But after seeing Clarence in the field, he returned to say that he needed Clarence’s assistance the following day. How did Mr. Jamison come by this knowledge that Clarence was experienced with birds?”
The judge tilted his head to Uncle Andrew. “Mr. Jamison?”
Uncle Andrew frowned. “I’m sorry, Your Honor, but my travels put me in contact with a large number of people, slaves included. I cannot recall where I was told that Clarence knew about birds.”
There was a murmur through the crowd that told me that this wasn’t a good answer.
“Perhaps you heard it from the slave auctioneer,” Mr. Mason offered.
“I beg your pardon?”
Mr. Mason looked to the judge. “Your Honor, I have here a witness who will testify that Mr. Jamison had inquired about Clarence and two other slaves prior to setting foot on my property. Perhaps this gentleman told him about Clarence’s knowledge of birds.”
“Bring him forward,” the judge said.
A large bearded man came up to the witness box, gave his oath to tell the truth, then sat down. I recognized him as the slave auctioneer that Uncle Andrew and I spoke to when we first got to Huntsville. He was named Peter Fields.
“Did Mr. Jamison approach you after the last slave auction?” Mr. Mason asked the man.
“He did indeed,” Fields answered. “He wanted to know about the slave you keep calling Clarence—the one I sold to you, Mr. Mason. He also asked about Clarence’s daughter and another boy that I sold to Colonel Ross.”
“Were you aware that Clarence was an expert in birds?” Mr. Mason asked.
“No.”
Mr. Mason directed his comments to the judge. “Is this mere coincidence, then, that Mr. Jamison came to my plantation and then went to the Colonel’s? I believe he was trying to find Clarence with the intent of luring him away. Perhaps he had the same intent with Clarence’s daughter and the other slave.”
“That’s merely conjecture, Your Honor,” Uncle Andrew said. “I told Mr. Mason that I was going to Colonel Ross’s—”
Mr. Mason cut in: “Because you had heard that the Colonel had several rare birds there. Again, I must ask, who told you that the Colonel had such birds? I’ve spoken with the Colonel, and he was not aware of having rare birds on his property.”
Uncle Andrew stood up again. “I must say once more that I can’t remember who told me about the Colonel’s rare birds.”
The crowd muttered to themselves, and I know I heard one or two voices say that the abolitionist should be punished. I felt frozen with fear about what would happen.
“How convenient,” Mr. Mason snarled. “I’d like to ask Colonel Ross to please come into the courtroom, along with my other witness.”
A bailiff called out the door for Colonel Ross. He entered and had Matt and Eveline with him, dressed smartly as attendants for the occasion, and the field slave named Washington.
On the stand, Colonel Ross admitted that he could not positively say that Mr. Jamison was an abolitionist—only that he was a man who was not sympathetic to slavery.
“Are there any rare birds on your property, Colonel?” Mr. Mason asked.
“None that I know of,” he replied. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember Mr. Jamison saying anything about rare birds either.”
The crowd mumbled once more and I began to sweat. This wasn’t looking good at all.
“You lent him one of your slaves, didn’t you, Colonel?” the judge asked.
The Colonel said that he did. “I brought the slave with me to testify.”
“So the slave is still here—he didn’t run away?” Uncle Andrew asked. “I must be a poor abolitionist, then.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
“Bring the slave to the witness stand,” the judge said.
Washington took the stand and, after he’d been sworn in, was asked by Mr. Mason if he had talked to Mr. Jamison about anything in particular during their afternoon looking for birds.
“Yes, sir,” Washington replied as he fixed his eyes on the hat in his lap.
“What did you talk about?” Mr. Mason asked.
“Me and Master Andrew talked about the Underground Railroad. I don’t know why but he started telling me about it.”
“That’s a lie!” I shouted, then
immediately regretted it when all eyes fell on me.
“Is there something you want to say, young man?” the judge asked me.
“No, sir,” I said and sunk down in my seat.
Uncle Andrew patted my arm. “Your Honor, I believe this slave is confused. Our conversation was the other way around. He asked me about the Underground Railroad and I told him as much as I knew— which, in fact, was nothing.”
Washington shook his head slowly.
The judge leveled a gaze at Mr. Mason. “Sir, I will not have a contest of the truth between a free white man and a slave. I believe I’ll disregard this portion of your case.”
Mr. Mason nodded and the crowd seemed to agree.
“Do you have anything else?” the judge asked.
Mr. Mason said, “No, Your Honor. I think what I’ve presented speaks for itself. This gentleman has concocted a series of untruths for some diabolical purpose—and since my slave has run away, I can only conclude that he enticed him to do so. I demand that this court punish him as a Negro thief, if not as a scheming abolitionist.”
The crowd shouted their agreement.
After the judge quieted them down, he pointed at Uncle Andrew. “Rise, sir, and give your defense before I render a judgment.”
Uncle Andrew stood up again. I held my breath. Whatever he was going to say had better be really good.
“Your Honor,” he said respectfully, “the evidence is circumstantial and, if one were to interpret it as diabolical, one could do so. However, there was nothing diabolical in my activities. I can only submit myself to the mercy of the court and hope that you will see that I am an innocent man.”
The crowd called out for the liar to be hanged. Uncle Andrew sat down and leaned over to me. “If he finds me guilty, run for your life.”
The judge cleared his throat and spoke carefully. “I wish I could believe in your innocence, Mr. Jamison. But the evidence speaks otherwise. If your intent was not to promote the abolitionist cause or give assistance to the slave’s escape, then please tell me your true purpose here. Everything indicates that it was not to study birds.”
A pause fell on the crowd as they strained to hear Uncle Andrew’s reply. But he didn’t have a chance to give one. A commotion erupted in the back of the courtroom. I turned around to see what was going on and nearly fell out of my chair with surprise.
Clarence walked into the room.
CHAPTER TEN
Matt tells about the surprise witness.
AT THE BACK OF THE COURTROOM, I stood with my eyes wide open and my mouth hanging down. Clarence waited by the door for a moment, looking unsure about what to do. Then he saw Mr. Mason and rushed forward. The crowd parted for him and gaped in wonder as he fell at Mr. Mason’s feet and said over and over, “I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry I ran away.”
The judge called for order in the court and insisted that Clarence take the stand and tell us what he was doing there. Looking tired and confused, Clarence agreed and sat down in the witness chair.
“All right, boy, tell us where you’ve been,” the judge said.
“Well, sir, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”
The judge snapped impatiently, “You’re sorry—that much we understand. Now tell us the rest.”
Clarence swallowed hard, then began: “It’s all my fault, sir. After Master Andrew here took off that terrible big head ornament with the bells—so we could look for birds like he wanted—I promised myself I never wanted that thing put back on my head. You don’t know what it’s like, sir, unless you had it on yourself. It must weigh almost 15 pounds, and my suffering was great. Not only did it make my head and neck ache something awful, but you can’t even lie down to sleep. No, sir, I had to sleep crouching down like some kinda animal. And after it came off, I thought to myself that I was never gonna let it be put on again. Never again…” Clarence put his head down and started to cry.
Now, I have to say right here that I had talked to Clarence enough to know that he was a pretty smart man. But the Clarence who spoke in that courtroom wasn’t anything at all like the person I knew. His voice was thick and shaky, and after a minute, it dawned on me that he was playing the part of the “dumb slave.”
“Get control of yourself, boy!” Mr. Mason growled. “Tell us what happened!”
Clarence wiped his nose with the side of his sleeve. “I tried to hide that hideous helmet in the woods. But later on, when Master Hickocks showed up with it, I was afraid. I knew he was going to put it back on my head, and it was more than I could stand. As he came near me, I felt a horrible, horrible panic deep inside my soul and it was like I was taken over by a wild animal. That’s what it was like, sir. I turned into a wild animal and knocked poor Master Hickocks down and ran for the woods. I didn’t know what came over me, ’cept I couldn’t bear the thought of carrying that contraption on my head again.”
The crowd started mumbling to themselves. I couldn’t figure out if they were sympathetic to Clarence’s story or not.
“I hid in the woods until my senses came back to me,” Clarence explained. “And I thought that I had to go back, ’cause I didn’t wanna be a runaway anymore. Mr. Mason’s is a good place to work—”
With that, Mr. Mason sat up in his chair and nodded.
“—so I thought that I would just turn around and go back. I’d beg for mercy and pray for forgiveness. That’s what I was gonna do, too, but then I fell in a hole in the woods and hurt my ankle. The pain was so bad I couldn’t move, so I just waited in the woods until I could walk again.”
“Why did you come to this court?” the judge asked. “Why didn’t you go back to the plantation?”
“I was going to, but on the road I heard it told that poor Master Andrew had been accused of helping me to run away. I felt awful, terrible. So I said to myself that I would come straight here so Master Andrew wouldn’t be punished because of me. Here I am, Mr. Mason, and I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry right down to my bones. I won’t ever do anything like it again. You can even put the bells back on my head. That’s how bad I feel.”
Mr. Mason waved his hand at Clarence as if to say that all was forgiven and he wouldn’t put the helmet back on.
“Mr. Jamison,” the judge said, “considering this evidence, I order that you be released at once and please accept this court’s apology for any inconvenience or slight of your character this case has caused.”
Reverend Andrew stood up. “Thank you, Your Honor. I am grateful for your time and the fair manner in which you conducted this investigation.”
“Case dismissed!” the judge shouted.
It’s hard to describe the chaos of the courtroom then. The place erupted. Everyone crowded forward to shake Reverend Andrew’s hand or commend Mr. Mason for getting his slave back. A lot of things happened at once. Everyone seemed amazed that it turned out the way it did. I glanced over at Jack, but I didn’t dare yell or wave. Eveline and I had to stay still at Colonel Ross’s side with serious expressions on our faces. I was pretty sure, though, that Eveline was bursting to see her dad.
Mr. Mason was all smiles again and shook Reverend Andrew’s hand. “Mr. Jamison, I’m sorry for misjudging you. I should have respected my first impression that you were a true gentleman.”
“Think nothing of it, Mr. Mason,” Reverend Andrew said.
“There must be something I can do to make it up to you,” Mr. Mason said. “Will you dine with me this evening? Allow me hours of contrition for what I’ve done.”
“I will be happy to dine with you, sir, but I ask one other favor.”
“Name it,” Mr. Mason said.
“I beg you not to punish Clarence for what he’s done. He admits he was a fool and behaved abominably against you and your overseer. But, for my sake, please do not punish him.”
Mr. Mason looked as if he might not agree, then nodded yes. “I won’t punish him.”
Reverend Andrew shook Clarence’s hand and they swapped an expression that made me realize how brave Clarence was to
come back like he did. He risked his life for Reverend Andrew—and Jack. It’d be easy enough for Mr. Mason to go back on his word and punish Clarence hard for what he’d done. And I had no doubt that Mr. Hickocks, the overseer, would want a hand in that.
Somewhere in the confusion, Reverend Andrew leaned down and said something to Jack. Jack looked up at me as if he wanted to say something, but Colonel Ross signaled for us to follow him out of the courtroom. “Come on,” he growled.
I reluctantly obeyed and slowly followed. I didn’t want the Colonel to have the satisfaction of seeing I still hurt. When we got out to his carriage, another man shouted at the Colonel, and they walked off together to talk. Eveline and I waited. I knew what she was thinking: She wanted to run to her father. I figured it was all she could do to stand still and just wait the way she was supposed to.
Jack suddenly came rushing through the front door of the court building, then saw us and tried to act casual. I looked around to make sure we weren’t being watched, then wiggled a finger for him to come over.
“That was a close call,” he said.
“I was sweating bullets,” I said. My eyes locked on Eveline’s and for the first time I noticed she’d been crying.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
“I wanted to be with my daddy,” she said.
Jack double-checked to make sure no one was listening, then said quietly, “Maybe you can be with him tonight.”
Her face lit up.
“What’s the plan?” I asked.
Jack shrugged. “I don’t know, but Uncle Andrew said to be ready tonight. Can you make it?”
I stood up straight as if to show him that my back wasn’t bothering me. “I’ll make it. I’m all better.”
He looked at me as if he didn’t believe me.
Jonah suddenly rounded the corner of the carriage and frowned when he saw Jack. “Scoot, boy,” he said. “You’re nothing but trouble around here. Go about your business.”
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