“We keep movin’.” Julilly broke the silence among them. “We keep bein’ lifted up and put on board. Massa Ross started it way back there in Mississippi.”
“Bless you, my children.” Aunt Katie’s eyes were misty with tears. “I wish you could stay longer with me but there isn’t time.”
She took them to a small room with basins of hot water, bars of soap, and thick white towels. She instructed them to wash and to put all their dirty clothes into a basket.
“The sewing circle of our Quaker Meeting makes large supplies of clothes for all of you who stop at the Coffin ‘depot.’”
Aunt Katie laughed. New clothes for Julilly and Liza were taken from a closet. “I think we’ll keep you dressed as boys since the everlasting slave hunters are looking for two girls. I’ll give you each a heavy sweater. You’ll need them for the coming winter.”
Julilly held the new clothes in her hands. The sweaters were knitted with warm yarn. They were the colour of the blue wisteria that hung lush and fragrant over Massa Riley’s summer house in Mississippi. The yarn felt springy and was not worn smooth. She could hardly believe that when she was clean she was going to wear this beautiful sweater.
Liza grinned. “In such fine feathers, Lester and Adam will think we is Queen Victoria herself when we step on the land of Canada.”
Liza gave Julilly a radiant smile. Julilly stared at her. Where was the old Liza? Where was bent, sullen, angry Liza now?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IN THEIR NEW SWEATERS with knitted caps that matched, Julilly and Liza were put inside a black, horse-drawn carriage which had been waiting on the street before the large Coffin home. Black curtains hung about its windows as though a death were being hidden someplace inside.
Aunt Katie clasped both girls in her arms. Levi Coffin searched their faces. His blue eyes glowed, warm and steady as the light from a pine-knot ember.
“God bless you both,” he said, and closed the carriage door.
The girls were alone inside. Perhaps the other slaves had gone ahead or were waiting in another hiding place.
Julilly and Liza sat close together—looking like strangers to each other even in the closeted light. Julilly had never felt the warmth of new clothes. They hugged against her. It was pleasant and she smiled. She and Liza didn’t look like slaves now. Would anyone know them, even if the door were flung wide open and mean old Sims stood scowling right before them?
Rain pattered against the carriage top. The wheels sloshed through puddles, but the rain was welcome. It was a curtain of protection.
“I feels safe and strong again, Julilly.” Liza hummed the words. “And I feels like a fine, cleaned-up lady.”
Julilly squeezed her hand. The carriage jolted steadily through the streets and the girls jolted with it side by side.
It was a short trip, for the driver could be heard calling to his horse, and the carriage began to skid as he pulled in the reins.
They heard what must be their driver talking to another man.
“A friend with friends,” he said.
“And what do you want sent by freight?” another man asked.
“Two packages of dry goods,” was the answer. “Drive to the end of the train station and we’ll load them into the last freight car.”
The carriage began jogging again. When it stopped, the blurred figure of a man opened the carriage door. He was stocky with large, strong arms.
“You must each crawl inside one of these sacks,” he said gently, tossing two gunny sacks into the carriage and then closing the door.
But he continued speaking. “You can breathe through the sacks and stretch around a bit when we put you in the freight car. Hang limp when we carry you.”
The girls stepped inside the sacks and began pulling them over their bodies and then over their heads. Outside they could hear the hissing steam of the train engine and the bang and shove of heavy freight cars.
“I don’t like bein’ tied up in a sack, Julilly.” Liza scowled and there was a look of terror in her eyes. But she pulled the harsh cloth over her head and sat waiting in the carriage seat. Julilly did the same.
The driver opened the door and crawled inside. He tied each sack tightly at the top. Then he picked up Liza and handed her to his waiting helper outside.
“Make yourself as small as possible,” he told Julilly, “and I will carry you over my shoulder.”
Julilly knew if she stretched out she would be twice as long as Liza. She huddled together as best she could.
A swirling sound of people and train noises, together with the drip of steady rain, surrounded Julilly. She felt the arms of the driver tighten about her.
A voice cried out above the confusion:
“Search all those cars for runaway slaves.”
Julilly’s heart pounded. She was glad for the sack and glad for the protecting arms around her.
“Two packages of dry goods go in this car,” she heard another voice call.
She was lifted into the car and carried far back into what must have been a dark corner. She was placed next to the sack that was Liza.
“Don’t move and don’t talk until the train starts,” the driver said softly. “You’re going to Cleveland. A friend of the Underground Railway will meet you there. It’s best you stay in the sacks until you reach your destination. But I’ll loosen the top so you can stick your heads out for the trip.”
He pulled the cloth down from the girls’ heads, but it was so dark they could barely see each other. The car began to move and the man left quickly.
There was a screech and the banging of a door. Wheels creaked and rolled beneath them. The car jerked and the girls fell against each other. A bell clanged. The train was frightening with its strange urgency. The wheels turned fast and then faster, clicking over the long, silver track. Julilly pictured it in her mind. It would look like the track they had walked along in the state of Kentucky. The sound and speed of the wheels began humming inside Julilly’s head. She felt dizzy. Liza groaned each time the big empty freight car rattled and jerked.
Julilly grew thirsty. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt thick. She began to think about the rain outside and how she wanted it to pound through the car and wash down over her. She leaned against Liza.
“Julilly,” Liza mumbled, “I think my own bones has come loose, and is rattlin’ around in this sack.”
Julilly had no answer. The train rattled on and on. It was going on for ever, she began to think, and with all this speed it might fly right off the tracks. Julilly forgot about a destination and that sometime the train would have to stop.
She dozed off to sleep for a time, and was surprised when their freight car banged into the car ahead of them and the rhythm of the wheels became slower and slower and then stopped.
“Liza!” Julilly cried out in alarm, feeling her friend’s body slumped against her legs.
“I’m not dead,” Liza groaned. “I just can’t sit up.”
In the middle of the car a light appeared. The door of their car slowly opened and a wild whip of cold fresh air blew in around them.
“I am seeking two parcels of dry goods shipped to me from Cincinnati,” a familiar voice called out. “I will take care of their transfer aboard the schooner Mayflower personally.”
Julilly remembered. The voice belonged to Massa Ross from Canada! He must have escaped from jail. He had come, as he promised, to take them into the land of freedom.
“Ah, here they are!” he cried. He leaned over the girls without speaking and quickly tied the sacks over their heads. Then he picked up a girl in each strong arm and strode from the car. Within minutes he lifted them into a carriage with heavy drawn curtains. He untied the sacks at once and pulled the girls free from them.
Liza fell onto the floor. She was too twisted and bent to sit on the seat. Julilly stooped to lift her and came face to face with Massa Ross. But was it Massa Ross? He had no beard; his hair was dark red but shorter; his chest and stomach were puffed
out round and full as before, but the clothes that covered them were plain. The ruffled shirt was gone.
He rubbed his smooth chin and his eyes crinkled with laughter.
“Julilly and Liza.” His voice was muffled but still lofty as though he might be preaching a sermon. “Praise God that you have overcome innumerable hardships and are now on the very brink of freedom.”
“A drink, Massa Ross.” Julilly could barely manage the words. Her mouth had the dryness of dust on the Mississippi road to the cotton fields.
“My dear children.” The large man heaved himself down to a bag at his feet. He pulled out a bottle and unscrewed a cap. Water gurgled into a cup.
“Liza first,” Julilly said.
Mr. Ross held Liza upright and lifted the cup to her lips.
“Drink slowly, child,” he said. “When your body has been drained of moisture, it cannot stand the shock of unlimited amounts.”
Soon the cup came to Julilly. The moisture cooled her lips. She held the liquid in her mouth. It trickled down her throat and she swallowed twice, greedily.
“There will be more when you board the Mayflower.” Mr. Ross bent down and returned the bottle to the leather bag.
Now that her mind was released from the dreadful thirst, Julilly realized that the carriage was moving. She could see only the outlines of Mr. Ross’ face in the seat opposite her and Liza. Liza clutched the seat with both hands, struggling painfully to straighten her back.
“Freedom ain’t easy, Massa Ross.” Liza sounded again like the sullen, angry girl of the long-ago slave cabin on the Riley plantation. “Even you got put in jail, and your face don’t look so well.”
Mr. Ross was weary. He leaned his head back against the carriage seat.
“They had to release me when the slave whose disappearance caused my trial returned. He came into the courtroom just when I was about to be condemned.”
Mr. Ross spoke again, but quieter this time:
“Injustice is the weapon of evil men. But there are always brave and noble souls who proceed on the course of right and are impervious to the consequences. I feel rewarded for all my efforts, just to free the two of you.”
Julilly was pleased with the ring of his words. Whatever Massa Ross was saying, it helped her lift her head and straighten her back and think of Mammy Sally, who never bent low to anyone.
Julilly thought back to the hot day in the cotton fields, when Massa Ross marched down the rows and chose Lester and then Adam to be his guides. Lester and Adam! Why hadn’t she and Liza asked about them right away. Massa Ross would know where they were.
“Massa Ross,” Julilly blurted out in a jumble of fear and hope, “did Lester and Adam get to Canada?”
Mr. Ross leaned forward slowly.
“They reached Canada, all right,” he said. “They both knew freedom.”
He paused. “Lester has a job in the town of St. Catharines. He wants both of you to come there…Adam died.”
There was a shocked moment of silence.
Kind, gentle Adam. Julilly felt the dryness again in her throat, but this time there was throbbing pain. Liza bent forward, straining her crippled back. Her eyes filled with tears, which ran freely over her scarred black cheeks.
“How did he die, Massa Ross?” she asked.
Mr. Ross’ shoulders slumped. “It was the chains.” His voice was husky. “They were too tight and cut through the flesh. When we filed them off, there was blood poisoning. Adam lived in Canada only one day. We buried him under a tall pine tree.”
There was nothing more to say. The evil chains. Julilly felt herself wanting to pry them apart for ever— to strain every muscle in her body to pull every chain loose from the legs, and arms, and necks of every slave.
The carriage stopped and Julilly wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her newly-knitted sweater. Before she heard about Adam, Julilly was going to ask Massa Ross if he had seen a tall, black-skinned woman with a proud walk who went by the name of Mammy Sally. Now she was afraid to know.
The carriage jolted. The door opened and the girls with Mr. Ross stepped into a dusky, lead-grey street. It was evening. To be safe, they pulled their new hats far down over the blackness of their faces. They tucked their hands under the warmth of the wisteria-blue sweaters.
Before them was a vast, grey stretch of water. It didn’t have the sound of the rolling Mississippi. The water heaved and pushed toward the shore and then splashed in one long row of waves. Great hulks of boats, anchored along its sides, rocked with the rhythm of the moving water. On one of the largest, the sails were being pulled aloft.
“That one is the Mayflower—the Abolition Boat,” Mr. Ross said. “It will take you across Lake Erie to Canada under its waving sails.”
“Then you aren’t comin’ with us?” Julilly faced him soberly.
Mr. Ross heaved his great shoulders and breathed long and full into the vastness of his chest.
“I must return again to the South and free more of your people,” he said. He picked up the skimpy bundles from the carriage floor and walked toward the boat.
“Keep your caps pulled down and don’t raise your heads to look at anyone,” Mr. Ross turned and whispered to the girls. “With those new clothes a passer-by would think you were my children. It’s fortunate the day is grey and cloudy.”
It was only a few steps to the boat and at once Mr. Ross began shaking the hand of a man he called “the Captain.” Mr. Ross didn’t raise his voice with his usual flourish but spoke quietly.
“A friend with friends,” he said at first. The magic password of the Underground Railroad. Julilly felt warm and excited each time she heard it.
“These are my children,” Mr. Ross continued. “Take them safely to Fort Malden.”
The captain was a jolly man with a hat cocked to one side of his head.
“Aye, that I will.” He hung onto each word with peals of laughter. “Come with me, lads, to your bunks below.”
Mr. Ross patted each girl gently on the shoulder and bade them good-bye. He disappeared into the grey evening dusk. Julilly and Liza wanted to call out to thank this big, kind man. But both of them knew the need for silence. It would be dangerous, too, for them and for Mr. Ross if they lifted their heads and showed their black faces.
The girls walked aboard the Mayflower with the Captain. Julilly felt the boat must be breathing and that she was walking over its body. It went up and down with each rise and fall of the waves beneath it. They followed the Captain down a narrow flight of stairs and then walked along a corridor with tiny doors on either side. At one of them they stopped. The Captain opened the door to a little room. It was hardly big enough for the three of them to stand inside. Two beds seemed to hang on the side of the wall and a small round window looked out on the water.
“I know ye are lassies,” the Captain laughed again, “but for this trip ye will be laddies to me and me mates.”
He showed the girls how to lock their door and warned them to open it only when they heard three knocks and then the words “a friend with friends.” He would bring them food and water ast once. Then they were to crawl into their beds and sleep with all their clothing on.
“If all goes well”—the Captain smiled broadly beneath his thick black moustache—“we will reach the banks of Canada in the early morning light.” The r’s in his speech trilled together like the song of a bird, Julilly thought. She would have no trouble recognizing his voice behind a door that was closed.
The Captain bent down and walked out of the little door. The girls locked it behind them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THERE WAS BARELY TIME for Julilly and Liza to look about the cabin, when three raps were heard on the door, and the Captain’s voice whispered, “A friend with friends. Open the door, lassies, there’s trouble aboard.”
Julilly turned the lock. The Captain’s face puffed with anger.
“I’ve had word there’s a slave hunter and sheriff coming aboard, with a warrant to sear
ch the schooner before we set sail.” He peered closely at the girls.
“I’ve a notion that ye’re the lassies they’re making all the stir about.”
He picked up their bundles and hurried them out of the door. They ran down the narrow corridor and up the winding stairs. It was nearly dark on the open deck. Firefly-looking lanterns bobbed here and there. The wind was full of the smell of fish, and it was cold.
The girls ran with the Captain across the deck to the far side of the schooner where a little life-boat, covered with canvas, hung against the side. The Captain pulled back the canvas and helped Julilly and Liza inside.
“Ye’ll find blankets, water, and a bite of food in there. Take care and pray that the Good Lord will protect ye.” He pulled down the canvas and left them alone.
The girls shivered. They felt about for the blankets and crawled under them, partly for warmth and partly for protection.
“We’re gonna jump into the water,” Julilly said solemnly, “if that sheriff comes near this little boat and takes the canvas off the top.”
Liza clutched Julilly’s shoulder.
“We’re never goin’ back to bein’ slaves again.”
It was a pledge between them. They were near the end of their journey. Massa Ross had said that Canada and freedom were on the other side of Lake Erie. There was no more walking through the woods, or climbing mountains, or hiding in wet swamp water.
“After all our trials, Liza,” Julilly said slowly, “anythin’ is better than goin’ back to slavery.”
There was a small opening between the canvas and the top of their little boat, and the girls found that by looking through it they could see onto the deck.
Underground to Canada Page 10