The Carter Journals

Home > Other > The Carter Journals > Page 12
The Carter Journals Page 12

by Shane Phipps


  Cody wasn’t sure, but he replied as confidently as he could. “Y-yes. I’ve watched Pa do it hundreds of times.”

  “He left a note with instructions in your pocket, just in case,” said Mary, smiling at him. “I have a batch of pies coolin’ in the house. I best go fetch them and see if any of the passengers want to buy some.”

  As Mary turned toward the house, Cody reached into his pocket, found the instructions, and began to study them. When he was confident he understood the process, he looked up the canal and saw a long, narrow craft creeping along at a slow but steady pace. The boat was being pulled on a towrope by two horses that walked along the path paralleling the canal. He could see a few crates stacked on the deck of the boat and several people sitting on benches. He walked down to the lower gates of the lock and studied the mechanism, considering the instructions David’s father had written. What had looked like a stair step in the canal was exactly that. The water level in the chamber could be raised or lowered to match the level of the canal. When the water level was even with the canal, the boat would pull into the chamber, and one set of gates would close behind it. Depending on the boat’s direction of travel, the water then would be let out either into or out of the chamber. The boat would move with the water level until it was even with the level of the next section of the canal. It was a simple but ingenious device that allowed boats to go up and down hills.

  Cody began to swing the gates closed. It was hard work, but he managed it. The gates fit together very snugly and effectively stopped almost all of the flow of water from escaping. Then he walked back and opened the little gates that blocked off the side channel and allowed water to flow into the rising waters behind the closed gates. Cody stood and watched the large chamber between the lock gates slowly fill with water. By the time the boat arrived, the water in the lock chamber was already at the top level of the canal. Cody closed the little gate that allowed the side channel water in, stopping any more water from entering. He watched as the boat operator maneuvered the craft into the chamber. When the boat was fully inside the lock chamber, Cody closed the upper gates behind it. Some of the passengers then got off the boat to stretch their legs and make use of the nearby outhouse. Meanwhile, Cody went to the lower set of gates and began to crack them open to allow some of the water in the chamber to slowly escape. The boat began to descend with the water level. It took about ten minutes for the boat to reach the lower level of the canal, and then Cody opened the lower gates all the way. The passengers began to reboard the boat. Cody noticed that three of them were carrying fresh pies they had purchased from Mary during their brief stop. Once all the passengers were back in their seats, the boat operator called for the horses to begin pulling again, and the boat slowly headed off to finish the last leg of the trip to Brookville.

  The Whitewater Canal, which flows through Metamora in Franklin County, is located in the eastern section of Indiana and runs northwest into the central part of the state. This map also shows the route of the Wabash and Erie Canal as well as the proposed routes of canals never completed. (Map Collection, DC035, Indiana Historical Society)

  Once the boat had left the lock, Cody went into the little house. “I see you sold some pies,” he said to Mary.

  “Yes, I only have two left. I’ll send one with you to the dance tonight if you want,” Mary replied. “Don’t forget to write in the tender’s log.”

  Cody looked around the room and noticed a little table just inside the door with a logbook sitting open upon it. Each entry in the book contained the name of the boat, the number of passengers, a description of the cargo, the time it arrived, and where it was going from there. He entered the information about the boat that had just passed through, then paused as Mary’s words sunk in.

  “The dance tonight?” Cody repeated.

  “I can’t believe you’d forget,” Mary said teasingly. “It starts at six. But I’d clean up before you go.” She gestured toward a small bedroom that opened off the main room of the house.

  Cody entered the bedroom and found a suitable outfit in a dresser. He combed through his hair before returning to the main room.

  “You look nice, dear,” said Mary. “Such a handsome young man! Here is an apple pie to take with you.”

  “Thanks,” Cody replied.

  “Have fun, and don’t go breakin’ too many hearts,” Mary said.

  Cody felt himself blush with embarrassment at her teasing. “Don’t worry,” he said, as he grabbed the pie and headed out the door.

  Cody decided to head toward the houses and buildings he had seen in the distance when he first arrived. The route took him along the same path that the horses had walked when they pulled the boat toward him on the canal. As he neared the little town, he saw a sign that read Metamora, Indiana. He walked on into the village. The canal went right through the middle of the town. There was a row of businesses on each side of the canal. Cody walked by a mercantile, a blacksmith, a hotel, a gristmill, a cobbler shop, a doctor’s office, and several other little shops. A couple of streets were lined with houses, and a church sat at the end of one street. Ahead, outside a large building near the end of the main street, several young adults and teens mingled. They all seemed to be dressed in their Sunday-best clothing. Two teenage boys who were congregating near the front steps of the building greeted Cody as he came close to the building.

  “Hello there, David,” said a red-haired, freckle-faced young man.

  “Howdy,” Cody replied. “How is everything?”

  “Pa has me workin’ like a dog,” he replied. “Ben here has it made as usual,” he said, pointing to the tall, lanky blonde boy to his left. “He just goes fishin’ every blessed day while his daddy runs the store.”

  “That would be nice, Joe, if it were true,” said Ben, laughing. “Hey, Dave, did you hear about the new family that moved to town this week?”

  Cody shook his head. “I’ve been busy.”

  “I hear tell they come from Pennsylvania. They came down the Ohio River to Cincinnati and then came over here to settle. I don’t know too much about ’em except that they have a daughter that is our age. I saw her, and she is all kinds of pretty. All the fellers are gonna be lined up askin’ her to dance tonight, that’s for sure,” answered Ben.

  “If she shows up, that is,” offered Joe.

  Just then, the doors to the building opened and a man came out and announced that it was time to come in for the dance. Cody walked in with the rest of the assembled crowd. He placed the apple pie on a table next to other items people had brought. He then selected one of the many wooden chairs that lined the outer walls of the large and open room and sat down to watch. People were still filing into the building two and three at a time. Their footsteps made loud clomping sounds on the hardwood floor and echoed around the room, and the floor made creaking sounds in some spots. The muffled sounds of a dozen different conversations began to fill the air. In one corner of the room, Cody noticed three young men tuning their instruments: a guitar, a mandolin, and a fiddle.

  Most of the early arrivals at the dance had been teenage boys and young men. Cody was beginning to wonder what kind of dance this was going to be when some of the first girls began to arrive. All the young men stopped their conversations and watched the parade of girls commence. The young women were all wearing what must have been their best and brightest formal dresses. Their locks were curled and pulled up high on their heads. It was a festive scene.

  Cody noticed that, for the most part, the girls sat on one side of the room and the boys sat on the other. There were a few couples here and there that seemed to be steady boyfriend and girlfriend, but the singles weren’t yet mingling. There were a lot of stolen glances across the room between groups of boys and girls, though. Groups of boys could be seen leaning into little circles and whispering. Groups of girls could be heard breaking out into demure little giggles. It was an atmosphere to which Cody could relate. Teenage dances hadn’t really changed that much over all these years
.

  Then she arrived. All the heads in the room seemed to turn in unison to look at the new girl in town as she entered the room. Cody was smitten the moment he first looked at her. The girl looked to be about sixteen years old. She wore a dark blue dress and had sandy blonde hair. Her facial features were strikingly beautiful, set off by the most intensely piercing pair of hazel eyes Cody had ever seen. Within a moment after she arrived, both camps in the room were buzzing in little groups of conversation again. Cody could sense some envy coming from the groups of girls, and he knew for sure what the boys were saying—he was thinking the same things. Cody began to wonder whether he would be able to work up the nerve to talk to the new girl. He knew that if it were purely up to him, he would probably sit and be a wallflower, too shy to approach her. He had always been shy in situations like this. But perhaps David was more of the outgoing type.

  Soon the room was pretty well filled to capacity. Cody guessed that there were forty or fifty people. Boys seemed to outnumber the girls, though, and it was clear that if any boy was going to catch the attention of a girl, he would have to be aggressive. Sure enough, as the musicians began to strike up the first tune, some boys sprang into action. Cody hesitated, then made a bold decision to follow suit. Why not? he thought. He made a beeline straight for the new girl. He felt a whirlwind of excitement and fear—this was not something he was used to doing.

  Just before Cody reached the girl, he felt the familiar swimming sensation that always preceded his exit from a journal. When he opened his eyes, he was sitting back in his bedroom.

  He felt a mixture of relief and regret at having left the journal at the moment he did. He was relieved a bit because he was pretty nearly terrified at approaching the pretty girl, having no idea what he was about to say, yet he couldn’t help feeling excited to go back and find out. He had a feeling it wouldn’t take long for him to go back into this journal.

  Chapter 15

  Although he wasn’t in the mood to waste time, Cody took a snack break. He felt the tingling sensations of the teenage crush, though he didn’t even know the new girl’s name yet! Still, he needed to know more about Metamora and the canal. Turning to his computer, he did an Internet search on the subject. He soon learned that the canal route ran from around Cambridge City in the northeast down to the Ohio River at Lawrenceburg in the southeast. It was built in stages because the state ran out of money in 1839, when the canal only stretched from Lawrenceburg to Brookville. The canal was extended a little at a time over the next few years, with the hope of tying the canal in with the whole Erie Canal system. The shallowness of the Whitewater River meant that most boat travel was prohibited, so the canal was an important alternative for cargo and passenger traffic. However, the growth of the railroad across the state in the 1840s and 1850s meant the canal was soon obsolete.

  Learning that, Cody wondered just how long David and his father could have been in business as lock tenders. Maybe there was more in the journal. Gulping down his soda, he rushed back to his desk and found his place in the journal.

  As I approached the girl, I found myself looking into the most stunning pair of eyes I had ever seen. I am normally not shy around girls, but I was struggling to find the words I needed to speak. I felt the sweat beginning to soak through my shirt.…

  As he read these words, Cody again felt himself being transported through the dark spinning tunnel into the journal. When he opened his eyes, he was gazing into the eyes of the new girl. They were hazel with little flecks of light brown. They seemed to burn right through to Cody’s brain, and he feared that it would turn him into a babbling idiot.

  “M-m-my name is David Carter. I am very pleased to meet you,” Cody said awkwardly, extending his right hand.

  The girl did a slight curtsy and gently placed her hand in his. “My name is Emily Morris. I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said.

  Cody had always hated dancing, but he didn’t have much choice here. Emily seemed to be waiting for him to do or say something. “Would you like to dance?” Cody asked.

  “It would be my pleasure,” answered Emily.

  The pair took to the dance floor. The only type of dancing he had ever tried was a couple of slow dances at school, which were little more than a boy and a girl standing face to face at an awkwardly close distance with their hands around each others’ waists, swaying slowly back and forth in one place. This, on the other hand, was real dancing, but Cody managed not to make too many mistakes as he led Emily around the floor.

  “I am told your family just moved here from Pennsylvania,” Cody said.

  “That’s right,” answered Emily. “We come from around Pittsburgh.”

  “What brings you to Metamora?” he asked.

  Emily paused awkwardly for a second before answering. “My father’s work.” She quickly changed the subject. “Where does your family live, and what do you do?”

  Cody couldn’t help but notice that his question had made Emily uncomfortable.

  “We live a little ways out of town right along the canal. My dad’s a lock tender there.”

  “That sounds interesting,” said Emily. “Do a lot of passengers use the canal coming up from the Ohio River?”

  Cody was glad he had done his research. “Yes, we get mostly small cargo boats, but there are always a few passengers that come through every day,” he said. “My mother sells quite a few baked goods to the passengers when they stop at the lock.”

  Cody sensed that Emily had asked that question for a specific purpose, but she didn’t follow up on it. He wondered why she had changed the subject so quickly when the topic of her father’s work had come up.

  “It’s a little hot in here. I could use a glass of punch and some fresh air,” Emily said.

  Cody was relieved to stop dancing, and he took her hint. “Well, let’s go get some refreshments.”

  The two headed for the table with the food and punch bowl. They each got a glass of punch and then headed outside.

  “Could you show me the lock your father tends?” Emily asked. “I’d like to know more about it.”

  “Sure,” Cody replied, a bit surprised. The pair began to walk the short distance to the Carter home.

  They walked together in silence for a few moments before Emily spoke. “So tell me, where did your family come from before you landed here in Indiana?”

  Again, Cody sensed that there was an ulterior motive behind this question. There was something about the way she was asking—it was as if Emily was feeling him out—searching for something. He couldn’t be sure, but he got the distinct impression that he was being interviewed. He was glad he remembered the facts about the family that David had mentioned in the journal.

  “We came from Kentucky,” answered Cody, “but we moved up here in 1836 when work on the canal started. My pa got hired as a canal worker.”

  “So you’re a southern boy, eh?” Emily said.

  “I guess so, by birth anyhow,” Cody answered.

  “Did your family own slaves in Kentucky?” asked Emily.

  Cody paused. He wasn’t sure. He remembered that Edward Carter Sr. had mentioned that his father had owned slaves in North Carolina, but had David’s family in Kentucky? He decided to play it safe. “Well, I don’t remember much about living in Kentucky. I was just about six years old when we moved to Indiana.”

  “I have seen a lot of slaves,” said Emily. “Runaway slaves, that is. A lot of them come through Pittsburgh on their way north. Some folks there help hide them on their way through.”

  Cody knew she was referring to the Underground Railroad, a network of people who worked together to help escaped slaves reach freedom in the north. He also knew not everyone agreed with its goals. “Yes, I have heard of that,” he replied. “It has a lot of folks talking. Some say it’s great what the abolitionists are doing, and some say they ought to be rounded up and thrown in jail.”

  This map shows three main routes of the Underground Railroad in Indiana. The eastern r
oute travels through Franklin County, near Metamora along the Whitewater Canal. (Wilbur Siebert, The Underground Railroad from Slavery to Freedom [New York: Macmillan, 1898], 138.)

  “What do you say about it, David?” Emily asked.

  Again, Cody hesitated. What would David have said? “I don’t know what to think about it,” he replied slowly. “I can see both sides. The southern farmers lose an awful lot of money when slaves run away. I can see why they wanted a fugitive slave law to force folks to help return their slaves, but then again, maybe slavery ought to be a thing of the past. I know if I was a slave who was on the run, I would sure appreciate the kindness of strangers to help me along my way.”

  This is the first page of letter written circa 1862 by Mary Elizabeth Clark of Henry County, Kentucky, to her sister, Emily Ross, of Howard County, Indiana. In the letter, Mary Elizabeth appears to respond to her sister’s pro-abolition views by stating her own belief that slaves should not be equal to white citizens. She also states that the war is a states’ rights issue, and the people of Indiana do not have the right to tell the people of Kentucky what they can do with their property. (Civil War Materials, DC008, Indiana Historical Society)

  There was a long pause. Then Emily spoke. “David, can you keep a secret?”

  “Sure,” replied Cody. He realized that he would have said yes to any request Emily made. How could anyone say no to her?

  “I’m happy to hear you say that you understand why people would break the law to help slaves,” Emily began. “David, when I told you earlier that my father’s work brought us to Indiana, I didn’t tell you what kind of work he did. I have to be very careful what I say because he is an abolitionist—and so am I. It’s very important that this information remains a secret. Some who would hear it would immediately turn us in. But I liked you and trusted you from the minute you walked up to me at the dance. Something just told me that you could be trusted with my secret.”

 

‹ Prev