by Laurie Myers
“You love to read,” Mrs. McKnight said. She eyed her children. “What is going on?”
Tommy held his breath. At any moment, Annie was going to tell everything. It would pour out, like rain running off the roof.
“Come on, Samson,” Tommy said. “Sit over here by Annie.”
Samson moved to Annie’s side and snuggled in close.
Annie brightened. “I changed my mind. I will read.”
Tommy heaved a sigh of relief.
Annie pranced across the room to the bookshelf. Tommy did not know what caused her to hold her tongue. Perhaps it was the silent prayer he’d said, or maybe just her love of dogs. Whatever the reason, at least now he had more time to think about what to do.
The next day was Sunday. Ever since First Presbyterian Church had been turned into a hospital, the congregation had met at the Baptist church a few blocks away. Tommy decided he would make his decision Sunday morning.
Tommy had not slept well. The weight of the situation was growing heavier. He had heard Henry say, “The heaviest burden in the world is a burden carried alone.” Henry was right.
The Baptist church gave Tommy a peaceful feeling. He sat in the pew between Marion and Annie. Their mother sat by Annie. They were waiting for the service to begin when Mrs. Williams marched up. In one long exhaled breath, she said, “Tomorrow they are bringing in more wounded from Atlanta—hundreds of them.”
“Oh, my,” Mrs. McKnight said.
Mrs. Williams lifted her arms into the air like she was asking the congregation to rise. “Where will they put them? Every hospital is packed.”
She turned to Tommy. “I hear there are some Mississippi boys in the group. Maybe your soldier will finally have some friends.”
Tommy felt squeezed, and it had nothing to do with the crowded pew. Between Mrs. Williams, Annie, and the Mississippi soldiers, Red would likely be discovered, and soon.
Reverend McKnight began the service with a reading from Psalms. Everyone stood. Normally, Tommy would have listened. Today he could not concentrate. Questions exploded in his head like fireworks. Should he tell someone about Red? Should he help Red? Should Red go to prison? The enemy was supposed to go to prison. But Red didn’t seem like the enemy.
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me…,” Reverend McKnight read.
Mercy. That’s what Henry had talked about.
Tommy looked back at the slaves’ section of the church. Henry was sitting on the front row. He gave Tommy a nod.
Everyone sat down.
Did Red deserve mercy? Mercy was not something you deserved. It was a gift.
Reverend McKnight began the morning prayer. “Gracious Father, we enter into your presence…”
What would God want? Tommy thought. God was a God of grace and mercy—he’d heard that all his life. Would God want Red to go to prison, or home to his family?
Marion punched Tommy in the side. The congregation was standing to sing. Tommy stood.
What did God expect him to do? What were those three things from the book of Micah? To do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. Love mercy.
“Streams of merrr-cy, ne-ver ceeea-sing…” The congregation sang, and the words leaped out at Tommy. Streams of mercy, never ceasing. That’s what God wanted. Not a little mercy here and there, but streams of it, running on and on like the Savannah River. Suddenly it was clear what he should do.
Tommy looked at his father high up in the pulpit, singing with passion as he always did. The congregation was singing loudly too, and with joy. Tommy felt relief for the first time in two days.
As soon as church ended, Tommy found Henry.
“I know what you mean about mercy,” Tommy said.
Henry smiled. “What you gonna do?”
Tommy hesitated. His decision was a serious one, and he sensed the importance of secrecy. Henry of all people would understand, and even agree, but Tommy held back. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He added to himself, “If I’m not in jail.”
Tommy and Samson entered the sanctuary by the side door. Red was a few rows over, sitting beside an older man, holding his hand. Red spotted Tommy and slipped away to the side door. They stepped outside onto the stone steps, and Red took a deep breath.
“Fresh air smells good,” he said. Then he saw Tommy’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“There are a lot of soldiers coming in tomorrow, some from Mississippi.”
“I’ll leave tonight. We’re close to South Carolina, aren’t we? I know some people there who’ll help me get north.”
Tommy frowned. “You’ll have to cross the Savannah River to get to South Carolina, and it’s too dangerous to swim.”
“Is there a bridge?”
“Yes, there’s a footbridge, but it’s upriver and they started guarding it a couple of months ago.”
“What about railroad trestles?”
“There are two. They’re covered, so you could cross without being seen, but you have to get to the river first.”
Tommy’s heart beat faster. Red would have to cross every main street in Augusta: Greene Street, Broad Street, and Reynolds Street.
“I’ll take you,” Tommy said.
“No. I don’t want you to get into trouble. It’s enough that you’re not turning me in.”
“You can’t make it by yourself,” Tommy said. “You’ve never been to Augusta before. It’ll be dark. You might run into trouble or get lost.”
“I don’t know…,” Red said.
“I know yards to cut through,” Tommy said, feeling more certain than ever. “I can take you as far as Saint Paul’s Church. It’s right beside the river.”
“I’ll need clothes and food.”
“I can bring them,” Tommy offered.
“Can you meet me at eight?”
“Yes. My parents are going out visiting tonight. They’ll be gone by then.”
“Good. I’ll be waiting.”
A gentle breeze blew by, and for a moment it felt like their problems floated away. Red pulled his commonplace book from his pocket.
“I want to read you two lines from a poem. But first I’ll read you the story of the man in the poem.”
Red found the page he was looking for.
“A man, Jonathan Walker, who lived in Florida, moved his family to Massachusetts so his children would not be raised in the poisonous environment of slavery.”
He emphasized the word “poisonous,” and Tommy wondered if Red thought Augusta was a poisonous environment.
“Mr. Walker returned to Florida for a visit, and some slaves he knew, who had been members of his church, asked if they could go back to Massachusetts with him. He consented, and they left in a sailboat.
“They were two weeks out when a Southern ship caught them. Mr. Walker was imprisoned in a dungeon for a year, and the palm of his right hand was branded SS for slave stealer.”
Tommy turned his own hands over and stared at the palms.
“The poem is called ‘The Branded Hand,’ by John Greenleaf Whittier. These lines are my favorite.
“Then lift that manly right hand,
bold ploughman of the wave!
Its branded palm shall prophesy,
‘Salvation to the Slave!’”
The story was as compelling as the Covenanters.
“Is he alive?” Tommy asked.
“Yes, and he travels around giving speeches and showing off his hand.”
“Lots of famous people come to Augusta on the train. Do you think he might come here?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t think Mr. Walker would be welcomed.” Red lowered his voice. “Someone else is coming with me tonight.”
Tommy felt his pulse quicken.
“Another Yankee?”
He thought back to the soldiers he had seen in the hospital. None of them looked like Yankees, but neither did Red.
“For now, the less you know, the better it is for you. You’ll see tonight.”
Samson sat alert. All day l
ong he had known something was going on, and he had not left Tommy’s side.
Tommy sat on the edge of his bed, staring at a watch he had borrowed from his father’s bedroom. Beside him lay a small sack with the things Red needed for the journey. Tommy reviewed the contents: an old shirt of his father’s from the mending pile and some food, which had not been easy to get.
Old Mettie, who worked for them, guarded the cookhouse closely these days. At supper Tommy had begged for extra biscuits, which he hid in his pockets. Later he managed to get some apples and carrots. At the time, it seemed like a lot. Now, it didn’t look like much.
“It’s five minutes till eight, Samson.”
Samson stood.
Tommy clutched the sack like a security blanket as he tiptoed down the stairs. Samson stayed close at his side. Tommy peeked out the window. The street looked empty. They slipped outside and ducked behind a bush.
The wind blew gently through the trees and sounded like people whispering. Tommy thought of his father and mother, who had left an hour ago. By this time they would be in the Martins’ home. How comforting it would be to sit with them now! Tommy shivered, unsure if it was nervousness or the cool fall air. He pulled Samson’s warm dog body against him.
Tommy turned his attention to two soldiers who stood in front of the church. When they turned away, he and Samson dashed across Telfair and worked their way up McIntosh Street, moving in and out of the shadows. They crossed McIntosh and hurried to the side door of the church.
As quietly as possible, Tommy pushed open the door. The only light inside came from a couple of lanterns, which cast odd shadows around the tall room. Tommy had never seen the sanctuary look so scary. With the low moaning and restless shifting of soldiers, it reminded him of an Edgar Allan Poe story Marion had once read to him.
Red met them at the door, and they slipped outside.
“Here’s the shirt,” Tommy said.
With Tommy’s help, Red quickly slipped it on. They walked to the back of the church to avoid the guards. The Augusta depot looked dark and frightening, stretching off to the right behind the church. Lately, the depot had been a place of constant activity, but tonight the trains stood dark and motionless.
Red stopped and put his finger to his lips. Footsteps. Tommy heard them, too, behind the church. It might be the soldiers from the front or some hospital patients strolling around the back. Neither was good.
Red and Tommy crouched at the corner of the building. They didn’t have time to wait until the footsteps faded away.
Tommy pulled Samson close and whispered softly in his ear, “See if anyone is there.” He gave Samson a slight push, and the dog walked slowly around the corner.
After a minute Samson returned.
“The coast is clear,” Tommy whispered. “If anyone was there, he would have barked.”
Quietly, they made their way along the back of the church to the opposite side. The Medical College building across the street looked quiet.
“Which way?” Red asked.
Tommy pointed across the street to the live oaks, standing strong and tall, like soldiers guarding the way. Tommy and Red dashed to the trees. Then, as normally as possible, they began to walk down Washington Street toward Saint Paul’s Episcopal Church and the Savannah River.
They passed a few strangers along the way. At any moment Tommy expected one of them to yell, “Hey, that boy and his dog are helping a Yankee escape!” Tommy pushed the thought from his head and focused on their goal: the river.
Red walked briskly. Tommy and Samson kept up. Tommy felt more confident.
They were almost at Greene Street when, without warning, a dog leaped out at them. A small fence kept him at bay, but the fierce barking and snarling caused Tommy to stumble and fall. Almost immediately, a woman in her nightdress came to the door of a house.
Red quickly crouched behind the fence by Tommy and Samson. A low growl rumbled in Samson’s throat. Tommy held him close and stroked his neck.
“Stay down,” Tommy whispered to Red. “I know her, and she’s nosy.”
“What in creation is bothering you?” the woman yelled. “Yankees?”
Her dog barked again.
“Well, there aren’t any Yankees around here. I’m the one you better worry about.” With that, the woman went back inside.
Tommy got up, glad he could rise without help. He rubbed his hands against his pants.
“You all right?” Red asked.
“Yes, sir,” Tommy said, hoping he sounded confident.
In the distance a soft whistle blew.
“A train,” Tommy said, “coming from South Carolina.”
“How far?” Red asked.
“I can’t tell, but we better hurry. There’s not enough room on that trestle for you and a train. If you’re on the trestle when the train comes…”
“I understand,” Red said. He rubbed his stump.
They walked quickly past the next houses and were crossing Greene Street when Mr. Barrett rushed around the corner, nearly knocking them over. He held his rifle in both hands like he was hunting.
“Ah, young Tommy,” he said. “I’m looking for Henry. That worthless excuse for a slave is missing.”
“We haven’t seen him,” Tommy said, eyeing the rifle.
“I’m on my way to round up some help,” Mr. Barrett said. Then he noticed Red.
“Tommy, do you have family visiting? I don’t recall your father mentioning it.”
“Pardon me,” Tommy said. “This is my mother’s cousin, Mr. Redmon Porter.”
Red bowed slightly and extended his hand.
Mr. Barrett shook it. “Sir, I am Wallace Barrett. Unfortunately, I must excuse myself. I am in search of a missing slave. And if he’s on the run, he’ll be sorry when I get hold of him.”
Mr. Barrett walked away without so much as a good-bye.
“We must hurry,” Red said.
“But what’s going to happen to Henry?” Tommy asked.
“Henry’s the one we’re meeting,” Red said.
Red explained that this was Henry’s chance for freedom. Mr. Barrett had been watching Henry like a hawk, so Red had told Henry to meet them at Saint Paul’s.
Tommy wanted to be happy for Henry, but he was awash with fear. Mr. Barrett was the meanest, most determined man in town. And he shot off his rifle at the slightest thing, good or bad. With Mr. Barrett roaming around carrying a rifle, none of them were safe.
Tommy and Red hurried on to Ellis Street. They kept their heads down as they crossed. It was good practice for Broad Street, which would be the busiest and most dangerous place for running into people they knew.
“If we go through Mary Ellen’s backyard, we can avoid the crowded part of Broad Street,” Tommy said.
“Which way?”
“Follow me.”
Tommy cut between two houses. He could hear the voices on Broad Street, less than a block away. He wondered if that was the usual amount of noise or if Mr. Barrett was already organizing his hunting party.
“That’s the Wilsons’ house,” Tommy said, hoping to distract himself. “Their cat only has three legs. That’s Mary Ellen’s house. She’s my sister Annie’s friend.”
They slipped along the edge of the yard, then stepped out onto Broad Street. It was bustling with people. The gaslights flickered along the street, making everything appear less sharp. Tommy hoped it might keep people from noticing them. He quickly scanned the crowd and felt relief at all the unfamiliar faces.
Two more blocks and they would be at Saint Paul’s. Red would cross the river and be out of Augusta. Then this would all be over. Tommy hurried across the street. Red and Samson followed. They were continuing quietly through an alleyway to Washington Street when they heard the sound of pounding footsteps behind them.
“In here,” Red said.
They ducked between two houses. It was a tight space. Tommy was close to Red and could smell his shirt. It smelled like Reverend McKnight. Suddenly Tommy lon
ged to be with his father, feeling his strength and confidence.
The footsteps grew closer. This might be it. Someone, maybe Mr. Barrett, had figured it out. Now he was coming for them. That’s when Tommy heard a familiar voice whispering, “Tommy. Tommy, where are you?”
“It’s Annie!” Tommy exclaimed. He emerged from the shadows. “What are you doing here?”
“I went to get Samson to sleep in my bed, and you were both gone. I figured this was what you were up to. I’m not stupid.”
She stared at Red. “You don’t look like a Yankee.”
“Annie!” Tommy said.
“Well, it’s true. He looks quite normal.”
“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?” Tommy asked.
“No. I want him to get back to his little boy. Besides, one Yankee won’t matter.” She smiled at Tommy.
Big Steve began to ring.
“We must go,” Red said.
“Don’t worry,” Annie said. “That’s just Big Steve ringing. I saw Mary Ellen on Broad Street. She said Mr. Barrett is upset because Henry is missing. They’re alerting everyone and starting a search on Reynolds Street.”
Red looked at Tommy. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Yes,” Tommy said. He thought quickly. “Annie, we need your help.”
“Doing what?”
“We need you to distract the men.”
“How?”
“Take Samson with you. Go up Reynolds Street. When you get to the boat docks, tell him to bark. He’ll do it. Keep him barking. When the group asks what’s wrong, tell them you think you saw Henry running toward Telfair Street. That will send them in the opposite direction and give Red a chance to get across the river.”
“I can do it,” Annie said, her face set.
Tommy threw his arms around Annie for a quick hug.
She smiled. “Come on, Samson. We’ve got a job to do.”
“Go, Samson,” Tommy said.
Annie and Samson dashed off.
The train whistle blew again.
“Hurry,” Tommy said.