by Jerri Hines
“Nothing holds meaning at the moment. I am a gentleman and will accept my fate, but don’t expect me to embrace it.”
“You are so much like your father. Men do not express their feelings as we women do, but you must know that your father loved your mother very much. Her death wounded him gravely,” she went on. “When I met Jonathan, he was confused. He wanted you by his side…you were a part of her…a part of himself. He needed you to remind him of his love. I sent him to retrieve you because we all need to be reminded that we are loved. Bitterness will tear at your soul.”
Her words weighed heavy on his heart. He could not explain what he himself did not understand. How at times, minutes seem like hours and hours an eternity away from her.
A gust of a chilling wind reminded him that he was not in Charleston. The autumn evening was upon him, cool nights and the smell of fire from the chimneys.
He reined in his horse in front on Rosemount. Standing in the front entrance, was a tall, handsome middle-aged man. His black hair speckled with gray had been slicked back from his face, and side-whiskers accentuated his prominent profile.
Cullen nodded in acknowledgment. “Good evening, Father.”
* * * *
The dull ache brewed in his head, progressed to a constant throbbing as Cullen followed his father down the basement steps. He felt betrayed. His anger directed at his father, the man he had trusted and handed over control of his estate without a second thought. He now understood his grandmother’s reason for leaving the estate in his hands.
After dinner, Mitchell and McFadden departed back to Philadelphia. Neither discussed the purpose to their visit during the meal. The conversation consisted of the tension building in the South, not the matter at hand. No, his father waited until their guests left, but Cullen saw it in their eyes. They both knew what he was about to be told.
In the library, Cullen gave his father his undivided attention. A million thoughts ran rampant in his mind while his father talked. He said little throughout the discussion, but every word suffused through him.
Cullen walked behind his father on the winding staircase. His eyes struggled to conform to the dimming light. He had not used these stairs before. The secret staircase lay behind the bookcase across from the fireplace in the library. So many secrets…
The largest loomed before him. His father, Jonathan T. Smythe, the respected member of Philadelphia Society was an associate of the Underground Railroad and had been since before Cullen was born.
* * * *
The basement to Rosemount was dry with a high ceiling, making for substantial headroom. Perfect for storage and hiding runaway slaves. The whole of the area had been converted into a shelter for the passing fugitives.
In the far corner, a row of cots lined the side of the wall. A brick fireplace burned to the right of Cullen, vented into the existing chimney on the upper floor. A dining table was also within the large room. At the moment, it held a single occupant, a well-dressed black man.
He wore a black suit with a high collar white shirt and a black bowtie of velvet. His shoes were laced with a broad heel. A dark hat lay to his side. The moment Cullen appeared, the distinguished man stood.
“Cullen,” Jonathan Smythe said. “This is my friend, Mr. William Still. When McFadden followed Andrew and discovered our little hideaway, William offered to talk to you to help you understand what we do and why.”
“Your father informs me that you have only just resigned from the Navy,” Still said solemnly. “It is a comfort to Jonathan to know you are home.”
Cullen had already realized by the looks exchange between the two men that each held the other in esteem. A sudden resentment surged through him with the knowledge that this Still seemed to know his father better than he did, but perhaps he didn’t know his father at all.
Observing the black gentleman, Cullen surmised that the man was older than himself. He estimated the man to be in his mid-to-late thirties, intelligent with a mild, confident manner. There wasn’t a fanatic feel to his tone or mannerism. No, the man carried himself with a quiet dignity that came from living a life with purpose.
A frown crossed Cullen’s face and shrugged. “It seems obvious that you both are intertwined in the Underground Railroad together. While I sympathize, don’t expect my support. It’s against the law.”
Still sat back and nodded. The man needed no reminder of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 or the notorious slave catchers that hunted down slaves that escaped. The law imposed stiff penalties including high fines and imprisonment for help given to any runaway.
Furthermore, society frowned heavily on abolitionists. The Underground Railroad had been the epitome of secrecy well needed to be successful.
“Cullen,” Jonathan said. “Don’t be under the illusion that I’m apologizing for my actions. It was necessary. When you were younger, I kept it from you for your own protection.”
“Now it would seem it would be so you can keep financing your little venture.”
The harsh words cut through the thick tension. An awkward silence ensued. Cullen shook his head. There was no reason to stay in this room. He turned to leave.
“I want you to understand. That is all I’m asking.”
Cullen stopped and looked back at his father. “I believe I understand well enough.”
“Please sit,” Still requested, calling attention back to himself. “I ask you to listen to my story. I understand your anger for I have my own. But your father does not deserve your animosity.”
“I do not need to be told how to feel,” Cullen shot back his growing rage at the man.
“It is not my intention,” Still said. “Your reputation for being a fair and honest man has preceded you. I know what you did for Heyward and his wife, Gillie.”
“It was not I,” Cullen snapped. He wanted to say it was Josephine who had risked her welfare, but instead he said, “Brantley Wright saw to his freedom, as well as the girl.”
“You saved him,” Still said simply. “It showed you looked at him not as an object but a human being.”
Cullen made no response. Still continued. “My parents were born slaves, but yearned to be free. My father bought his freedom by hard work. My mother didn’t have that opportunity. Instead, she fled with her four children only to be caught and brought back. She was not content. She escaped again. This time she was successful, but it came at a price. She had to leave two of my brothers behind who had been sold to slave owners in Mississippi. It tore at her heart. It is the reason I do what I do.
“Her sacrifice gave me the chance to make something of myself. I swore it would not be wasted. I have devoted my life to helping those kept in bondage.”
Still rose and walked over to his father’s side. He clasped the back of Jonathan’s shoulder. “This is a good man.” He took a deep breath as if affected by his own words. “I have been fortunate to have become a successful business man. It gave me the opportunity to help the Underground Railroad more efficiently. It is how I met your father.
“I could stand here and tell you story after story of the brave people who have helped those in bondage. I can tell you the tales of those that have escaped—hiding in crates and ships for days on end without food and water. Crawling through briar patches, cut and wounded, risking their lives to gain freedom. But I know I don’t have to tell you for you know the hardships.
“What you need to hear is only this. Jonathan Smythe has done what his heart has called him to do. Do not let your wounded pride come between your father and yourself.”
Still picked up his hat. “It has been a pleasure to meet you. I hope it will not be the last we will see of each other. I bide you good night.”
He said nothing else but left Cullen alone with his father.
* * * *
A long silence followed between father and son. Cullen contemplated the man who had rejected society’s stance of turning a blind eye to the horrific institution of slavery. Deep within him, he comprehended the streng
th and courage it took his father to do as he had done, but his father had kept it secret from him. His own father did not trust him!
In his youth, good and evil was as clear as night and day. Now, it seemed to have merged into a dull gray.
“I never meant for you to find out this way. For that I am truly sorry,” Jonathan broke the silence. “I should have told you immediately upon your return.”
Cullen stood indignantly looking at his father. Unsmiling, he said, “Grandmother found out. That is the real reason she left her estate to me and excluded you.”
“Your Grandmother felt I was going to bring shame upon the family. Already your mother had left me. She felt I had dishonored our family.”
Suddenly a realization suffused throughout Cullen. His body tensed. “Good Lord!” he cried. “Mother knew!”
“It was the contention in our marriage,” Jonathan acknowledged, pain in his eyes clearly visible. “I cannot deny that the fault lies with me. Guilt has gnawed at me since your mother left me.”
Loyalty toward his mother surged through him. It was not only him his father had betrayed. “How could you, Father? How could you?”
There had been so many years lost to them in his youth. Cullen had thought the two had mended that bridge, but he had only realized that the gulf was too wide.
Jonathan moved across the room to the table and sat. For a moment, he leaned his head into hands. After a time, he looked back up at his son. In the dim light, the basement offered, Cullen saw water well in his father’s eyes. Emotions overwhelmed the man. He had never seen his father cry.
“Dolly was my weakness,” Jonathan said in a softened tone. “I should have never married her. Looking back now, I see that, but at the time, I couldn’t live without her. I deceived her and in the end, lost her.”
Cullen watched his father take a deep breath in as if contemplating his next words carefully. His father pursed his lips and slowly began his tale.
“When I was young, I was bold and adventurous in my efforts to make a fortune. I was determined to show Mother that I could make it on my own. By the time I was twenty, my venture into shipping had been fruitful. I had arranged a triangular trade arrangement through South America and China. I bought the cotton and had it shipped.
“It was on one of my voyages when I laid anchor at St. Augustine along the northern coast of Florida. During the layover, one of my men, Al Renaud from the area, invited me to go on an alligator hunt. Late that night, Al took us into the marshes. As we made our way along the water’s edge, we heard a baby cry. Worried because we were in the middle of a swamp infested with alligators and snakes, we rushed to the cry. A full moon illuminated the sight that would be etched into my memory forever.
“Across the inlet, a black baby was tied up with a rope around its neck and its torso screaming and thrashing in the water. Before I could make a move, a gigantic alligator lunged out of the water and clamped down on the child. Immediately, men emerged from the overgrowth and roped in the alligator, killing it. Al grasped hold of me and refused to let me interfere. There was nothing we could have done at that point.
“It was a group of alligator hunters using black slave infants as alligator bait. I was aghast and appalled. Al explained that he had heard rumors of hunters that stole slave babies to use them as bait. We reported it, but nothing was done except notify the plantation owners to be aware that men were stealing black babies, only to protect their property. Property!
“Babies! They were killing babies! Thinking no more of it than if they were a chicken or rodent!” Jonathan paused and collected himself. “It was then I did my own soul searching. I had as most turned a blind eye to slavery. It did not affect me personally. After witnessing the barbaric act, I swore I would be silent no move, not so much with my words as actions. I gave up my own ambitions and went to work for the family business. Smythe and Company. It made Mother happy, at least for a time.
“I’m no politician. I could not change the laws, but I had the means to help. In the beginning, Al and I helped smuggle escaped slaves onto our ships. It was dangerous, too many eyes in a contained area. Eventually, we found others like us and became associated with the Underground Railroad. On my trips, South, I helped arrange safe houses and routes for the fugitive slaves to take.”
“You met Mother on one of those trips?”
Jonathan nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “She had no knowledge of my actions until after she came North with me. To be honest, I never intended to tell her. She was Southern and held her father in high regard. She was a gentle soul but believed as her father taught her that the slaves were better off as they were. She thought they couldn’t take care of themselves without guidance. The night she discovered my deceit cost me dearly. It cost me her love, my mother’s and you.”
“Yet, you have not stopped.”
“Nor will I.”
Cullen rubbed his forehead, trying hard to comprehend all his father was telling him. Thoughtfully, he said, “You use the railroad here at Fairmount to help I would imagine. Curved the line to slow it at a certain point so the escapees can jump off, where they are collected and taken to Rosemount.”
“If you want, I will give you all the details of the operation,” his father said. “I don’t want you to be angry.”
“I am angry, Father,” Cullen lashed out. “How could you? How could you not tell me— your own son! You let me discover this on my own and expect me to be fine with it! You keep it from me, yet Andrew must know everything.”
“Andrew became a necessity,” Jonathan said. “I told you I never meant for you to find out this way.”
“Or at all!”
“Perhaps the thought crossed my mind,” his father acknowledged. “I know how close you are to your Southern family. Andrew…Andrew had his own reasons for doing what he has done. I did not recruit him. He came north to medical school searching for a way to help. He…held suspicions.”
“Suspicions?” Cullen looked at his father, confused. Then slowly once more he grasped his meaning. No, his father would not have had the nerve. “Magnolia Bluff! You run the Underground Railroad through Magnolia Bluff?”
Cullen listened in complete disbelief. His father held nothing back, telling of the integral parts of a well thought out system.
“You have to know that we abhor violence. Our actions are only to withdraw slaves that desire to be free, not to instigate a rebellion against their owners. It is a dangerous path for them to take. The dangers are made quite clear.”
With a stubborn frown on his face, Cullen folded his arms and stood in a defiant manner. “You let Mother return to Magnolia Bluff and kept…”
Jonathan shook his head quite vigorously. “It was not like that. Dolly knew. I told her as I am telling you. She never said a word.”
Being so young when his mother died, Cullen remembered nothing that would have contradicted his father’s account. But why had he kept this information from him?
“I know this is a lot for you. I don’t expect you to forgive me yet, but in time, I hope you will understand.”
Cullen’s brows drew together in irritation. “I fear that my temper will allow only my ire at the moment. That you help slaves escape is not the issue as much as you did not trust me…even after I saw to Heyward’s safety. You must have realized my position.”
“I fear that was my doing, Cullen. I advised Uncle Jonathan to wait.”
Cullen turned to face his cousin. Andrew walked around the table and settled a chilly stare upon his cousin.
“Come, Cullen, do not begin to tell me that you are annoyed with me? It was you that had me followed.”
“With reason,” Cullen replied icily. “You are an engaged man flaunting another woman around Philadelphia.”
“It is what I thought,” Andrew sneered. “Then this matter can be cleared up promptly. Miss Kathleen Halcoyne is a friend. Lest I remind you, it is not your concern, and neither is Josephine Wright. She is my fiancée.”
&nbs
p; “I will not have you…”
“That is where you are wrong,” Andrew retorted. “You have no say in anything associated with Jo. I would strongly advise you to leave her well alone. Do I make myself clear?”
Anger gripped Cullen tightly. Fury choked in his throat, making it impossible to respond. It took all his willpower to overpower the urge to punch the snide look off of Andrew’s face. He looked over at his father, then back at Andrew.
“It will not be a concern any longer,” Cullen stated, turned abruptly and walked out of the basement and up the stairs. He asked only for his horse and rode back to Philadelphia.
Chapter Three
By late fall, Josephine had returned to Magnolia Bluff. It was different this time. She was welcomed into the house as its future mistress. The knowledge did little to alleviate the gloom that enveloped her spirit.
The oppressive heat of the late summer had broken, replaced with much cooler weather. With the coming of the shorter days, a gray dampness invaded the plantation. The fields had been harvested, lending the time for other activities to be enjoyed by the men of the family. Hunting and fishing became a daily occurrence.
Papa enjoyed the time outdoors and had regularly participated, but these daily undertakings had taken a toll on his well-being. He began to go less frequent. The decline in Papa’s health had become more apparent.
Jo worried about him. In all her life, she had never known him to be anything other than the imposing, yet charming figure of a man he presented to the world. His dominant personality had never been questioned. Now, he had begun to question himself. That alone scared Jo.
Away from the bustle of Charleston gave Jo time to contemplate the changes in her live in a relatively short time. She had come to the conclusion she needed to immerse herself into the affairs of the estate.
Andrew’s mother offered to show her around, not only the house but the whole of the plantation. Jo learned quickly there was more to running the plantation than maintaining the household.