by Carter, Noni
“C’mon, we gotta keep movin’!” I said, standing quickly and walking over to Tucker. There was no room in my spirit to hear any disheartening words. “Hope we don’t hafta stop agin till we get to that riva,” I added as the two of them fell into step close behind me. A silent prayer escaped my lips. We were going to make it.
We had to stop again, despite our desire to reach our destination as quickly as we could. It took us another day’s worth of rest before we reached the river. By the middle of the night, we were out of sight of each other. We each had our own pace, and our own method of slipping into the darkness when we heard any sounds of danger. Because of this, and in order to move as quickly as possible, we planned to find each other at the river if we did happen to become separated.
At long last, the river came into my view. It was still far off in the distance, but near enough that I felt relief—a relief that was very short-lived.
I jumped in fright, almost tripping over my own feet as I heard the sound I had anticipated but dreaded at the same time, the sound I had prayed we would not hear.
The dogs!
Before I could catch myself, I had fallen to the ground, reopening the wound Masta Jeffrey had given me under my left eye. The ground seemed to rumble beneath my fall, as if trying to lead the dogs right to the spot where I lay. I tried to scramble up, but I tripped and fell again in my panic.
One second . . . two seconds . . . it’s almost over. They’re coming to get me. . . .
Someone, either Daniel or Tucker, pulled me up and pushed me onward. I couldn’t tell who it was, but I could feel the terror in his trembling hands, before he disappeared into the woods.
My heart raced as I began to run even before I was steady on my feet. Before I knew it, I bounded faster than I ever thought possible, leaping over roots and dodging branches. I could get away—I would get away. As my legs ran, I looked around for Daniel and Tucker, but I saw no one. I was alone.
Get to the river.
My thoughts spun faster in my mind.
Get to the . . .
A single dog had barked once more, as if it wasn’t quite sure whether or not it had found our trail. But the noise was terrifying.
I stumbled but then scrambled on my knees until I could get my footing again. Branches ripped at my clothes and skin like overgrown thorns reaching to stab the life out of me. But I didn’t feel them.
One dog began to whine and was joined by another. They were getting closer.
Then I came upon the river so suddenly that I would’ve splashed right into it if not for the large tree there to stop me. The tall tree loomed over me with its outstretched branches, welcoming me like the arms of a protector. It roots stretched down into the dark river.
An ancestor.
Mary had told me that whenever a person was in grave danger, an ancestor was always there to help, you just had to find them.
I heard horses in the distance, a sound that shook me inside as I stood on the embankment, leaning against the tree. I steadied my breathing as I pulled off my shoes and hat and stuffed them into my sack. Stealing glances behind me, I buried the sack loosely beneath the muddy sticks and leaves piled near the part of the tree trunk that sat outside of the water, so that I could retrieve it quickly when I needed to.
The trunk was too wide for me to grasp, so I lowered myself down into the water by holding onto a thick limb. The river was so cold! Small chill bumps ran up and down my arms, but fear of what lay behind pushed me farther down into the water. I frowned, my free arm reaching farther down to find a lower branch. Just as I heard another bloodcurdling bark, my arm smacked against the branch I needed. I grasped it with both hands and lowered myself further. The water rose to my chin.
I searched in vain for the skiff that should have been waiting there for us. Even though the moon hid behind the clouds, enough light peeked through for me to search the dark banks of the river. The skiff was nowhere in sight.
Now what?
One of John’s warnings flitted past my mind.
“If you eva gotta cross deep waters, make sho’ you shed yo’ clothes.”
“Why?”
“It’s wintatime, Sarah, an’ them rivers hold all the cold you could imagine.”
Another shiver ran up and down my body. In my haste, I had forgotten to strip my clothes from my back, and I had nothing else to dress myself in. They clung to me as I struggled to stay warm and alert.
I waited. Time ticked very slowly as I listened to the barking of the dogs. My heart was beating so loudly, I knew the dogs would find me for sure! They seemed to get closer with every breath I took, so I made every single breath a prayer to God to keep me hidden. I could’ve easily slipped into the peace and quiet of the river forever. . . .
Suddenly, their barks turned into angry growls. My heart quickened, but I knew they could not have seen me. They were far from where I stood in the water. But had they found Tucker? Or . . . or my brother?
Holding my breath, I turned my head and peered around the tree, but I could see nothing in the night. What I heard, however, stilled my heart.
The night carried to my ears a loud grunt, almost a yell. One of the dogs yelped loudly in response. I listened closely to the broken shouts of the voices in the distance.
“. . . got somethin’ . . . Let’s go!” The sound of the galloping horses came hauntingly nearer.
“. . . stabbed my goddamn dog, one of ’em did. Find ’im!” The drawl came from a commanding voice. I couldn’t tell how many others were with him, scurrying around in the shadows. I inched as low as I could and peered around once again. Still I could see nothing. I was frozen with fear. Then a thought sprang to my mind.
Sarah, get across the river.
I ignored the impulse. I had to know if whoever had stabbed the dog had been found, or if he had safely hidden himself away. My answer came almost immediately.
“There one goes! You seen ’im? Stop!” I couldn’t make out the rest of his words; they were lost to the night. But whoever had been discovered surely wouldn’t turn himself in that easily. More shouts echoed into the night. I shivered in the water as the woods grew still again.
Suddenly, there was a loud rustling followed by two gunshots. A shout bit through the air. A scream almost emerged from my lips. My heart squeezed tighter than my grasp on the branch.
I could hear them questioning the fallen man, his shot body most likely at the mercy of the whip.
“. . . you headed, boy?” a new voice echoed through the air. I knew right away it was Masta Jeffrey. His presence chilled my bones more than the cold water did. Why was he out here? Mastas didn’t usually chase runaways themselves.
I strained my ears against the yells that reverberated through the woods, but my heart refused to identify the person who had been captured. Another question from the slave catchers rang through the air. I shuddered, anticipating the worst.
What if he is conscious and he reveals our plans and our route of escape? What if they catch me next?
But only silence followed the questions that I could no longer make out. Whoever it was, he was not answering. Whether it was a conscious choice to remain silent, I could not tell. I wanted my spirit to relieve me of the sound of dying moans, to rid me of the images in my mind of dripping blood and hounds’ teeth ripping through soft skin, tearing hopes and dreams apart. But instead, my spirit again whispered, Sarah, get across the river.
I looked out over the river, hot tears springing steadily from my eyes, and tried to steady my mind so that I could think.
“Swim,” I mumbled softly, needing to hear my own voice. “Swim across.” I could’ve stayed. I could’ve hidden and prayed for God to cover me with his big wings. But I was far enough from them to make it across without being detected, and my spirit was urging me to cross.
I shut my eyes and took a few breaths to try to focus. But as soon as I did, the image of a mutilated body ran across my mind. I almost spilled the contents of my stomach.
Who is it that lies sprawled on the ground? Who?
I shook the question away and pulled myself up to stand on an underwater stump. Easing the sack from under the brush, I tied it tightly across my back and shoulder. I was supposed to keep my belongings dry, but I had no choice but to carry it through the water with me.
I fought my way across the strong river, which had to be as deep as at least two of me. The temperature of the water seemed to have dropped dramatically since I had first entered. I moved farther along, my arms and legs working with each other. Using what I had taught myself back at the plantation, I kicked and pulled and kicked and pulled myself through the water. At times, water filled my mouth so that I felt I would drown. But I fought my way back up, back to the air, all the way to the other side. It didn’t take as long as I had expected, though crossing on a skiff would have allowed me to keep myself and my belongings dry.
After finding a spot to shield myself, I collapsed on the other side of the river, exhausted and cold. My body tingled, but I knew that if I stopped there, I still risked of being caught. I rubbed my palms together and lifted my body slowly off the ground.
Walking on, I searched desperately for a place I could hide and rest, but after walking for some time, I fell back to the ground, forlorn and shivering. My legs felt like iron rods—I had to stop. A small barn lay ahead. I crept up to it.
There was no movement inside or out, and the door hung loosely on its hinges. Inside, I saw empty stalls, empty feeding rooms, and piles of hay. Thrown in the corner were three large horse blankets. Whoever the barn belonged to had either been gone a long time or abandoned the place entirely. I needed a place to rest, and that’s the only warning my body followed.
I crept into the smallest, darkest room and buried myself beneath one of the blankets, surrounding my hiding place with hay. Only then did I notice that my cold, wet clothes still clung to me. As my heartbeat returned slowly to normal, I stripped the clothes from my body, wrung them out, and struggled my way back into them. Pulling the blanket tightly over my shoulders again, I curled myself up in a ball, like a child.
Rocking back and forth, I tried to empty my mind. But I couldn’t. Before I could stop myself, the smell from the horse blanket nauseating me, I vomited.
I shook harder, wanting to cry out loud to rid my mind of the capture. Who was it that lay dying in woods? Had he really been by my side just yesterday? I closed my eyes, and when I did, I dreamed of ropes of blood grasping my ankles, grabbing my heart, reaching for my neck . . .
I awoke suddenly, trembling even harder, my eyes swollen from the tears.
Where am I?
I noticed sunlight bleeding through the walls of the barn as I came to my senses. I felt warmer on the outside, but inside, I still didn’t feel quite right. I lifted myself gravely, then gasped when I saw two large eyes staring at me. I had concealed myself well, even though I’d been in a terrible state. Only eyes searching for a hideout could have found me—or the observant eyes of a small child.
The little black boy didn’t move or jump, even when he noticed me staring back. I was unsure of what to do. I looked from his eyes to his little hands, which clung to a jug. I rose, unsteadily, from my hiding place.
“You tell somebody ’bout me?” I asked the boy with a frown and with a harshness I hadn’t meant to let escape my mouth. He still stared back at me, his face unchanged.
“Mama say take this to you, an’ don’t tell nobody I done seen you.” He eyed me carefully, not budging until I had reached out after a long moment’s worth of considering and grabbed the jug. As soon as I took it, however, he turned and ran to the door, his bare feet thudding softly against the ground. But then he whirled around and ran back over to me.
“She also say if she was gonna sneak to the barn like she does sometimes an’ fix me some of that dried-fruit pie I like, but ain’ s’pose ta have, she wouldn’t do it tamarra night. She tole me she won’t come here then ’cause them horses be back by then.” I nodded slowly, my mouth slightly open, as the little boy crouched down near a large crack in the side of the barn and squeezed his small body through.
Sinking back into my perch, I tried to reason out whether or not to stay, whether or not I was in danger. Bringing the jug to my lips, I let the warm, sweet milk trickle down my thirsty throat and over my cracked lips. I emptied the jug halfway and buried myself beneath the blanket to do some more thinking, but drowsiness grabbed me, and my eyes were soon closed again. Once sleep came over me once more, the whispers began.
Don’t cry for me, Sarah. When you reach freedom, I reach freedom, too, and so do all of us in bondage.
I awoke with a start, peeking out to see who had said those words to me. I longed for the ghost to reveal himself, but he didn’t.
That’s what exhaustion does to you, Sarah, I thought to myself, closing my eyes again.
I’m alone, aren’t I? I thought, but I allowed my mind to share with me the comforting words I longed to hear.
No, I’m here. Mary’s soft voice rippled through my mind.
I’m here too! It was John.
Shh, my child. It was Mathee, Mama.
This time, sleep came full and hard, and in my dreams, the ropes of blood began releasing their hold on me, laying out a path to freedom. At the end of that path stood John, arms open wide.
CHAPTER
21
I SLEPT FOR ALMOST TWO DAYS. I WOKE UP SEVERAL TIMES TO find small plates of food and jugs of liquid stashed by my side. As soon as the light streaming through the barn walls began dying down that third night, I stole away from the safety of the barn. After running for about a mile, I kneeled and emptied out my sack while there was still a little bit of light in the sky. I noticed a good-size rip near the bottom of the sack. Anything could have fallen out! But I hadn’t the time right then to examine my belongings, the small bundle of which I pushed back into the bag. Instead I inspected my clothes and food supply. The dried meat Mary had packed was almost gone. The half piece of corn cake was spoiled. I tossed it away. All that remained was my small pack of nuts and dried fruit, and a gourd and a half of water. One of the three small gourds I had was cracked beyond repair. The clothes were still decent, however. I had a second pair of yarn socks, my hat and shoes, which I had let dry out in the barn, and another pair of pants. I tied the pants around the rip in the sack and pulled it all around my body once more.
I recalled Daniel’s words as I ran on.
“Look fo’ the biggest star in the sky when you’se lookin’ to go north. Or when it’s cloudy an’ you in the forests, figure which side the moss grows. Most times, it grows on the north side of trees.”
“All right.”
“You can build a fire?”
“Sure! Mary taught me long time ago.”
“Good. When you run outta food, gotta use what you got round you fo’ eatin’. Fish in the waters, ducks, wild fruits—whateva you can get. May even have to steal a hog or two.” I nodded at him.
“All right. How long it gonna take, Daniel?”
“Could take us a short time or a long time. Mattas what we run into an’ how good we follow that path north. Now, there’s folks an’ places that may help us out on the way. Gotta know what to look fo’. Folks I talk to—folks who help us escape, Sarah—they say when we pass on by a house gonna do us some good, there always somethin’ there that show us they safe folks.”
“Somethin’ there like what?”
“Couldn’t say. But they tell me we’ll sho’ ’nuf know. But we gotta keep our eyes open. Might run right by them or miss them all if we ain’t lucky. If that happens, we gonna hafta run most all the way.”
“Wish you was here, Daniel,” I whispered into the night as I let the lonely feeling inside me help carry me faster through the night.
I learned some things I never knew how to do before, running on my own. When I heard wild snarls echo through the woods enough times, I decided to take the time to learn how to climb quickly up a tree. I tu
mbled down the first few tries and fell hard to the earth. But the bruises hardened over. I practiced until I got good at it, then utilized this to keep myself safe.
I also had to teach myself to safely get a contained fire going. It was easy for people to spot fires, though, so I’d hide while it burned down to the last embers, then sneak back to the spot to roast whatever meat I had on a spit. But gathering food was a lot harder than I had hoped. Daniel had told me that he, Tucker, and I would catch and kill some of the small animals we ran into on the way—that’s what runaways most often did. But being as neither of them was with me, catching the animals was quite difficult. I would get lucky sometimes and find rabbits or other small animals already dying or freshly dead. But that wasn’t very often. Mostly I just depended on the berries and other fruits I picked along the way. After eight nights of running, the food Mary had provided me with and that I had collected with Tucker and Daniel began to run very low.
But I ran onward.
I was alone, and I was diving into a world beyond reason. I had been searching homes that I passed for hints or signs that would convince me I had found safety. But nothing seemed safe enough, and as desperate and tired as I felt sometimes, my mind would whisper small messages, reminding me that nothing, absolutely nothing mattered more than survival.
At night, I took to clutching large sticks or rocks and knew that if the worst came to be, I would not be afraid to use them. I began to wonder how much easier my journey would be if I had a gun. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to spend hours chasing food I knew I would not get my hands on. And perhaps the whispers of the night wouldn’t scare me so much.
The solitude tore at me. I longed for a hand to hold, and some days I sat shivering with fear, afraid to move on. I longed for words of assurance from Mary, good advice from John, and the knowledge that neither Daniel nor Tucker had been killed. But none of that came. There was no one but me scraping my way through what seemed menacing country.
It didn’t take long for my supply of meat to run out. I tried to continue running, in hopes of getting lucky and finding something edible that would fill my empty belly, at least enough to give me the stamina I needed. But a growling, constantly hungry stomach made me weak. I caught nothing, and the fruit I found was not enough. I was desperate, and knew I had to risk danger to save myself from starving.