The lady held the lantern for me to see while I shifted the logs and found a trapdoor underneath them. I pulled the heavy door open and looked down into a dark pit. The woman lowered the lantern into the darkness, and I saw a ladder and some blankets and in the corner, a canteen of water. I scampered down the ladder right quick, calling my thanks, and heard the trapdoor close above me. Several thumps told me that the lady was piling logs back on top of the door to keep it hidden. In the darkness, I pulled a stub of candle from my sack—the Lawd bless and keep my auntie—and lit it with a match. I drank the canteen dry and curled up among the blankets.
I woke up once, some time later, hearing the sound of baying bloodhounds, but they didn’t come near the secret root cellar under the woodpile, and I went back to sleep. The next time I woke, it was because the trapdoor was being pulled open. A young farmer’s face appeared in the square of light above me. When he saw me, his eyes widened in shock. He stared at me as if I were a ghost. Finally, after a few ragged breaths, the farmer said: “Son, how did you get in here?”
I was puzzled. Hadn’t the pretty lady told her husband I was here? I explained at once about running away, and about the bloodhounds and the pretty lady in white who hid me. Another look of shock flickered over the man’s face when I mentioned the woman.
“What’s the matter?” I asked apprehensively. The man shook his head and told me it was safe to come in the house.
He hid me in an upstairs room and brought me some hot food. Then he sat in a chair beside me and showed me a small painting of a pretty golden-haired lady wearing a long, white dress. It was the woman who had hidden me.
“My wife,” the young man said, tears springing to his eyes. “She died six months ago.”
I thought I would die myself, right on the spot, as his words sank into my head. I had been hidden by a ghost! Great Lawd in heaven! A ghost!
“She was the only other person alive who knew about that root cellar,” the young man said at last. “I saw her in a dream last night, and she told me that she’d put something in there for me. That was the reason I opened the trapdoor this morning, because of seeing her face in my dream. I hadn’t been down there for a good six months before then.”
I must have looked as shook up as he was, ’cause the farmer gave me a sip of brandy to steady my nerves and told me to get some sleep. He told me he would hide me under the false seat in his wagon and take me to another safe house after dark. Which was just what he did.
I never did meet up with Moses, but I did make it first to Philadelphia, then up to Rochester, and finally to freedom in Canada. Yes, Lawd! It was hard traveling all by myself. It took me a long time—eighty-nine days—and I got plenty tired of swamps and riverbanks and having nothing to eat but roots and leaves. But at last I was free! I found my parents living in Ontario, and we saved up enough to buy freedom for my auntie and uncle and bring them to Canada too. Hallelujah!
12
The Waves Call
Greenville, Mississippi
The Mississippi River is seething with ghosts of all kinds. Doesn’t matter where you visit on the riverfront, you’re going to find ghosts. There are tales of murdered seamen, river pirates, roustabouts, wharf rats, and even a few old explorers who haunt the shores of the mighty river. But one ghost wasn’t there to scare anybody. He was there to try to save someone: a roustabout named Jakie Walker.
Now Jakie had been working the wharves for nigh on thirty years, and he knew the river pretty well—her secrets, her tricks, and her moods. Jakie was a good roustabout and a fine man. But his one vice was drinking, and it caused a lot of stress on his marriage. Jakie’s wife was a strong-minded woman who didn’t put much store in drinking. She would harp and yell and beat on Jakie whenever he came home drunk. It wasn’t a pretty thing.
Well, one night Jakie went out drinking with his buddies and got himself quite liquored up. It was very late when the party ended, and his friends all headed for home. But Jakie didn’t want to go home just yet. He was worried about what his wife was going to say when he came home drunk again, so he decided to wait until he sobered up a bit before going home. He walked about for a while, finally drifting down to the wharves where he worked.
Jakie sat down on the edge of the docks and listened to the water lapping the shore. It was very quiet and dark by the riverside. A soft breeze was blowing on Jakie’s face. He gazed across the whispering river, feeling at peace with the world. There was a dark place right out in the center that Jakie did not remember seeing before. As he studied the spot in the dim light, it grew darker and began to swirl. The breeze turned cold, and Jakie shivered.
Before his eyes, the darkness took the shape of a man wearing a long black gown that seemed to drag behind the figure into an unfathomable distance. The breeze grew stronger and colder. Jakie sat frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off the figure as it slowly began to glide toward him on top of the water. Jakie wanted to scream, to holler, to run away, but he couldn’t move.
As the figure drew near, Jakie felt an incredible heat burning like a bolt of lightning through the cold breeze. He felt as if his cold body had suddenly caught on fire. The black eyes of the man pierced deep into his soul as if the man was trying to crawl into Jakie’s mind. For a terrible moment, Jakie was sure that the figure was going to drag him down to hell.
Fear loosened Jakie’s tongue, as the hot breath of the ghost blew onto his face. “What do you want, ghost? What do you want?” Jakie yelled. He tried to crawl away from the figure, but his arms and legs wouldn’t move. It felt as if invisible ropes were tying him to the spot.
For a long, long moment, there was silence, except for the whisper of the river. Jakie stared in horror at the ghost. The ghost stared right back at Jakie. Then the ghost opened its arms wide, like a figure on a cross. Jakie thought that the ghost was going to grab him and that he would be buried in the long black robe that stretched into eternity. Jakie moaned in terror. “Don’t touch me,” he whimpered. “I ain’t got nothin’ you want. Nothin’ at all.”
The ghost spoke then in a deep, hellish voice. “The waves call me,” it wailed. “They call me and I must return to them. But I will not move a step from here until I speak to you, Jakie.”
Jakie swallowed. “What you want to speak to me for?” he asked.
“You knew me, Jakie, when I was alive. You knew me, but I will not tell you who I was. My name does not matter. I was drowned in the Mississippi River and now I am a ghost, haunting the waters and banks I once knew.”
The Waves Call
Jakie frantically tried to remember all the men he knew who had drowned in the Mississippi. If he could figure out the name of this ghost, maybe he could send it away. But there were too many names, from roustabouts to river captains. Jakie could not remember them all.
The ghost continued. “I have something to tell you, Jakie. You are doomed to leave this earth soon, just as I did, unless you stop your drinking.”
Jakie was taken aback. He stared at the ghost incredulously. In spite of his terror, Jakie was insulted. This ghost had some nerve coming to him in the middle of the night and trying to rectify his drinking. Didn’t he get enough of that from his wife and the preacher?
As if he could read Jakie’s mind, the ghost said, “I was sent to take you away with me. You are doomed to share my watery grave. The waves are calling for you, as they call to me. But you are a good man, Jakie, aside from your drinking. If you promise to stop drinking, you can avoid my fate. Tell me now, boy. What is your determination in this matter?”
Jakie was really indignant now. But he still felt stuck and unable to move, so he had to stay and answer the ghost. Jakie thought about the ghost’s threat to drown him. Then he contemplated life without liquor. Jakie didn’t have to think long.
“Ghost,” Jakie said. “Drinkin’ is the chief pleasure of my life. I ain’t stoppin’ for no
one.”
The ghost studied him closely. Jakie shuddered a bit. The burning feeling was back, and Jakie was terrified all over again. But Jakie didn’t care. He would not give up drinking just because some ghost showed up to scare him.
“Jakie,” the ghost said in a terrible, deep voice. “I cannot accept that answer.”
Jakie thought fast. He didn’t want to drown. And this ghost seemed awfully serious. If only he could figure out its name. Slyly he asked, “Do you know my wife?”
“I do,” the ghost said ponderously. “And I can understand why you drink. But if you do not promise me you will stop, I must take you with me under the waves.”
Jakie frowned mulishly at the ghost. He ran the names of several drowned roustabouts through his mind. But the ghost spoke like it had book learning, and none of the roustabouts on his list could talk as fancy as this ghost. One of the captains, perhaps? Or a townsman who drowned while out fishing? It must be someone who had lived nearby, since the ghost claimed to know his wife.
“Jakie,” said the ghost. “I think you do not believe me. I think I must show you what fate has in store for you if you continue your drinking.”
As the ghost spoke, it opened its arms again and the waves in the river began to rise. The wind turned into a howling nightmare, swirling around and around until it formed a funnel reaching endlessly up into the cloudy sky. The waves started shrieking like they were demons from hell. They rose higher and higher, swirling under the deadly funnel and reaching out toward Jakie like arms. The waves were calling to Jakie, beckoning him into the depths of the Mississippi River. Jakie shouted out name after name of the men he knew who had drowned, but those waves kept coming for him, and the ghost just opened its arms wider and wider.
Jakie was defeated and he knew it. He didn’t want to die. “I promise you, ghost!” he shouted over the deafening roar of the funnel and the demon-shrieking waves. “I promise you not to drink ever again. Just take away that funnel and them waves.”
Immediately, the funnel and waves disappeared. The river resumed its normal course, and the night became silent and still. The ghost nodded to Jakie and glided back to the center of the river. It sank slowly under the water, and Jakie felt the invisible ropes loosen. Gingerly, Jakie pulled himself up off the dock. He was shaking with terror.
Jakie, completely sobered by his experience, ran home. He was so fearful that the ghost would change its mind and come back that he forgot to be scared of his wife. She was waiting for him by the front door. As Jakie stumbled into the front hall, his wife threw her arms around his neck.
“Jakie,” she screamed. “Jakie, honey I dreamed you was dead. Jakie, I am awful glad to see you.”
“Baby,” Jakie gasped, hugging her back. “I almost was dead. But I’m a new man now.”
Jakie never took another drink of liquor. Instead, he toted his paycheck home every week and spent each evening at home. To his surprise, the troubles with his wife just about disappeared, and Jakie became a happy family man.
13
Blackbeard’s Ghost
Ocracoke Inlet, North Carolina
“Wind’s blowing inland tonight,” Jeff observed casually at the dinner table that evening. Immediately, we all looked at our grandfather. He was sitting calmly at the head of the table, eating his mashed potatoes with a spoon, and ignoring us grandkids.
“No,” Grandma said from her seat at the other end of the table, answering Jeff’s unspoken question. “You are not going to Teach’s Hole tonight. There’s a storm coming and you’ll be swept away and drowned, the lot of you. Then what will I tell your parents when they get home from vacation?”
“I want to see Teach’s light!” shouted my twin brother, Bobby.
I wanted to see the ghost too. A local fisherman had told me about it when we went down to the docks that morning.
“Don’t you want to see Teach’s light, Becky?” Bobby appealed to me from across the table.
“Of course I do.” We both simultaneously turned toward Grandma and said, “Please!” After ten years of being twins, we could read each other perfectly.
Grandpa was shaking his head.
“Not tonight, kids. Your Grandma’s right. There’s a storm coming. I will take you down to Teach’s Hole another night.”
Bobby and Jeff, our older brother, looked as stricken as I felt. But as we continued eating, we could hear thunder coming closer, and the wind picked up and beat against the house.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Grandpa. “Why don’t we light a fire in the fireplace and tell ghost stories? Your grandmother will make popcorn for us.”
I perked up immediately. Ghost stories were perfect for a stormy night. We quickly began clearing the table as Grandma made the popcorn.
“Can we shut off all the lights?” I asked.
“Sure can,” Grandpa said.
“Probably won’t need to,” said Grandma. “The power usually goes out.”
The lights flickered a few times as she spoke. “See what I mean?” she said.
The power did go out a short time later, while Bobby and I were washing the dishes. We had to finish by lamplight. Jeff and Grandpa made the fire, and we settled down next to the crackling flames as the thunder rumbled and the rain beat down on the roof.
“So what ghost story would you like to hear?” Grandpa asked us. As if he didn’t know.
“Tell us about Blackbeard,” Jeff said immediately.
“Tell us about Blackbeard’s ghost,” I corrected him.
“I want to know about Teach’s light,” said Bobby.
“Well now, I think I can cover all that,” Grandpa said with a smile. He passed us the bowl of popcorn and began his story.
“Edward Teach was once an ordinary English privateer, who had served in the Navy during Queen Anne’s War with Spain. But when peace came in 1713, Teach became a pirate.”
“Blackbeard,” Bobby said happily.
“Yes indeed,” Grandpa said. “Edward Teach was a tall man, and he had a very long black beard that covered most of his face and extended down to his waist. He’d tie his beard up in pigtails adorned with black ribbons. He wore a bandolier over his shoulders with three braces of pistols, and sometimes he would hang two slow-burning cannon fuses from his fur cap to wreath his head in black smoke. Occasionally, he’d even set fire to his rum using gunpowder, and he would drink it, flames and all.
“For more than two years, Blackbeard terrorized the sailors of the Atlantic and the Caribbean, ambushing ships and stealing their cargo, killing those who opposed him, often attacking in the dim light of dawn or dusk when his pirate ship was most difficult to see. He would sail under the flag of a country friendly to the nationality of the ship he was attacking, and then hoist his pirate flag at the last moment. When prisoners surrendered willingly, he spared them. When they did not, his magnanimity failed. One man refused to give up a diamond ring he was wearing, and the pirate cut the ring off, finger and all.”
I gave a gasp of fright. For a moment, I could almost see the prisoner’s finger flying through the air, the blood spurting from his hand. Grandpa glanced quickly at me and changed the tone of his story a little.
“Blackbeard had a way with the ladies. They seemed to find him attractive in spite of—or maybe because of—his marauding ways. Over the years, Blackbeard married thirteen different women. No sooner had he left one wife behind to go pirating than he became enamored of another. The only woman who scorned him was the daughter of Governor Eden. Eden was governor of North Carolina in those days, and he got a share of Blackbeard’s plunder in exchange for ignoring the pirate’s illegal activities. But Eden’s daughter did not care for Blackbeard. She was engaged to another man, and spurned Blackbeard’s suit. So Blackbeard hunted down her fiancé, cut off his hand, and threw him into the sea to drown. He then sent a jewel casket to Miss Eden. When she opened
it, she found the severed hand of her dead lover.”
Blackbeard’s Ghost
Bobby’s eyes grew round as he envisioned Miss Eden opening the jeweled box containing the severed hand.
“What happened to her?” Bobby asked.
“She grew ill and died,” Grandpa said gravely.
“Once, Blackbeard blockaded Charleston, South Carolina, with his ships, taking many wealthy citizens hostage until the townspeople met his ransom. Another time, Blackbeard ran aground one of his own ships, the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Some say he did it on purpose because he wanted to break up the pirate fleet and steal the booty for himself.
“Then in November of 1718, Blackbeard retreated to his favorite hideaway off Ocracoke Island, where he hosted a wild pirate party with drinking, dancing, and large bonfires. The party lasted for days, and several North Carolina citizens, tired of the way Governor Eden ignored the pirate, sent word to Governor Alexander Spotswood of Virginia. Governor Spotswood immediately ordered two sloops, commanded by Lieutenant Robert Maynard of the Royal Navy, to go to Ocracoke and capture the pirate.
“On November 21, 1718, Maynard engaged Blackbeard in a terrible battle. One of Maynard’s ships was between Blackbeard and freedom. Blackbeard sailed his ship, the Adventure, in toward shore. It looked like the pirate was going to crash his ship, but at the last second it eased through a narrow channel.
“One of the Navy ships went aground on a sandbar when it tried to pursue the Adventure. Blackbeard fired his cannon at the remaining ship, and many of Maynard’s men were killed. The rest Maynard ordered below the deck under cover of the gun smoke, to fool the pirates into thinking they had won. When the pirates boarded the ship, Maynard and his men attacked. Although outnumbered, the pirates put up a bloody fight. Blackbeard and Maynard came face to face. They both shot at each other. Blackbeard’s shot missed Maynard, but Maynard’s bullet hit the pirate. Blackbeard swung his cutlass and managed to snap off Maynard’s sword blade near the hilt. As Blackbeard prepared to deliver the deathblow, one of Maynard’s men cut Blackbeard’s throat from behind. Blackbeard’s blow missed its mark, barely skinning Maynard’s knuckles. Infuriated, Blackbeard fought on as the blood spouted from his neck. Maynard and his men rushed the pirate. It took a total of five gunshots and about twenty cuts before Blackbeard fell down dead.”
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