by Michael Ross
She screamed again, “Lawd have mercy! Take me home! De Lawd, He help me escape, dat who! Don’ burn me no mo’!” Her feet kicked wildly in the air, in pain.
“Maybe I’ll just feed you to my dogs, like that little pickaninny of yours!” He let her feet touch the ground again. “Or maybe I’ll let you go if you tell me. ‘Course, I might get tired and switch to that other one,” he said, gesturing at Olivia. “Jameson told me he don’t much care about what condition she comes back in, gonna sell her south anyway, down to fever country. Might keep you for amusement, though. Or maybe sell you myself, to one of them black slave owners over in Carolina.” The other white men laughed. “Now, let’s try again. Where’s your son Luther, and who helped you?”
The men were in position. Luther had seen enough. He made the sound of the whippoorwill several times. Shots rang out, but were mostly wild. The fat man jumped to the log where the other captives were, using them and the log as a shield. One of the slave catchers dropped, catching a shotgun blast full in the chest. Another looked toward his fallen companion as Luther rushed in, slicing the man’s gun arm with his knife. He heard a pistol ball whistle near, and then the fat man called out. “I got my revolver on the head of a pretty girl here. If she means anything to you, drop your weapons. I can kill her and that woman hanging there before any of you get me.” Luther had his arm raised to deliver a killing blow to the man underneath him. He hesitated, and the man fought back, knocking his hand against a rock, forcing him to drop the knife. “You have two seconds, and then she’s dead.”
A shot rang out from the forest, a scream of pain, and then a voice. “You’ll be shootin’ no one today, you slave catcher vermin!” John Parker, Sam, and five other men strode into the firelight, guns trained. “Drop your weapons, slave catchers, or we’ll shoot the lot of ye. Stand up!”
Luther stood aside. The fat man stood, holding his shoulder wound. A dog tried to charge one of the men and was shot immediately. Sam came over, carrying a hammer. He handed it to Luther.
“I thought you might need dis,” he said. Grabbing the hammer, he went to the fat man.
“Who are you? I want to know your name, you scum!”
“I’m George Alberti,” the fat man said smugly.
“The key. Give me the key, before I bash your skull in,” he said, his voice deadly with rage. He raised the hammer above Alberti’s head, who quickly fished in a pocket and produced a key. Jemima’s feet were on the ground, but the fire still burned above her. Luther put down the hammer and carefully unlocked her shackles, so as not to cause any embers to fall. Then he unlocked Ned and his family, and Olivia. Katy quickly moved to treat Jemima’s burns and gather her discarded dress to cover her. John Parker used their shackles to chain Alberti and the other surviving slaver. Olivia and Ruth took turns embracing Luther. Lying on the ground, Jemima looked at him, her eyes shining in gratitude.
Alberti roared at them. “I’ll see you all in court. You interfere with lawful recovery of property, chaining a white man. You’ll all rot in jail!”
Luther snapped. He ran to the fire, picked out the waiting branding iron, and charged Alberti, yelling “You’ll rot in hell, wid de debble!”
John Parker grabbed Luther just as he was about to brand Alberti’s face.
“No, Luther. That’s not the way. You want to hang or end up back in slavery? We can prosecute him for kidnapping free Negroes. His charges won’t stand. But if you try to take revenge, you and your whole family will suffer.”
Jemima spoke from her haze of pain. “You lissen, Mr. Parker, boy. Revenge is mine, I will repay, says de Lawd. Don’ go tryin’ to do His job.”
Ned spoke, “Some things just cain’t be forgiven.”
Katy tried to calm him, but Ned shook her off. He picked up the discarded hammer, and his muscles rippled in the firelight. He advanced menacingly on Sam, who cowered.
“You! You de cause all dis. I saw you—two, three days ago—talkin’ to a white man. You de one tol’ dem dat Luther is here. You nearly get me an’ my family sold down de river!” Ned raised the hammer as if to strike. Sam put his hands over his head.
“Please, Mr. Smith! I just want Luther out of de way. To court Ruth. I nebber thought the slave catcher hurt any free blacks. Please!”
Luther was stunned. Sam? He betrayed them?
John had loosened his grip on Luther but tightened it again, motioning to one of the other men, who restrained Ned’s arm somewhat. The powerful blacksmith shook with fury.
“If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you or give you to the slave catchers myself! Now—run! Before I change my mind and do something I’ll regret.”
Sam rose, and stumbled off, into the darkness.
✳ ✳ ✳
The next day they held a brief service for Clara, burying her in the colored graveyard. Luther wept and cursed himself for the loss of Clara. How could he have been so stupid as to think anywhere, even in the North, was safe? Ned and family, as well as John Parker and the other rescuers, attended. Alberti and the other slaver were behind bars, for the moment, though Parker doubted they would stay there long. As the service concluded, Ruth came and took Luther aside.
“Say the word and I’ll go with you,” she said. “To Canada, or anywhere.”
Another day, Luther would have jumped for joy. His grief and anger overshadowed him.
“I can’t ask you that. Not now. I … I don’t know what to think, how to feel. I have to see my ma and Olivia safe to Canada. Then I don’t know where I’m going. I do know that I care for you. Very much. But there are things I have to do. I’m going to get Sam and my old master. I have to. Without them, none of this would have happened. Will you wait for me?” he asked pleadingly.
She looked deep into his eyes. “Luther, don’t do this! I don’t want to wait. When I see so much anger, it scares me. Whatever you feel you have to do, listen to your mother. Revenge won’t help. If you feel you have to go, yes, I’ll wait for you. If we move, as Papa says we might, I will leave word where with John Parker. Go with God, Luther.” She reached up, encircled his neck with her arms, and kissed his cheek. She turned away, crying.
John packed Luther, Jemima, and Olivia back into the wagon, concealed under hay, the way they had come months before. They headed north, to Oberlin, a town distinctly unfriendly to slave catchers, a kind of sanctuary. Luther knew this was temporary. After talking with John Parker, they decided they would board a ferry steamer to Port Rowan, in Ontario, Canada, beyond the reach of the slave catchers. John said they might go on to Glen Morris. A woolen factory there often hired escaped slaves as lint pickers. It would mean starting over again. This time, though, they would truly be free.
THE STORM BREAKS
November 1860
The news electrified Lexington. Will was walking toward the livery to get the buggy when he heard it in the streets. Lincoln won! Lincoln was elected president. Will hurried to buy a newspaper from a passing newsboy. Will continued walking to the livery and sat down on a bench in front of it to read. Lincoln won only forty percent of the popular vote but won one hundred eighty electoral votes. Lincoln didn’t carry a single Southern state. Kentucky’s favorite son, John Breckinridge, came second, carrying most of the South, but not his own state. Astonishingly, after defeating Lincoln in the Illinois senate race, Stephen Douglas got only twelve electoral votes, carrying Missouri. There were cries of fraud, as Douglas got almost thirty percent of the popular vote. John Bell, of the new Constitutional Union party, split from the Democrats, carried Tennessee, Kentucky, and Virginia.
It was Wednesday, November 7, 1860. Will knew that the vote yesterday was tense. Breckinridge was so much for slavery that he alienated Kentucky’s neutral and Union voters. Ultimately, Bell’s neutral stance, though he himself was a slave owner, attracted Kentucky slave owners and those like Governor Magoffin, who held neutrality was the best course. Lincoln was not even on the ballot in the Southern states.
Sitting on a bench in front of the
livery, Will scratched his head. He wondered what would happen now. Was there really going to be a war? Already, states were talking about secession. Lincoln’s statements were conciliatory, claiming no need for secession or war. He simply wanted to contain slavery to where it already existed, he said. The Southern press proclaimed him an embarrassment and a racist. There was a cartoon showing Lincoln dancing with a black woman, talk of forced marriage between black and white.
Will shook his head. He still didn’t understand all the fuss. He folded the newspaper, hitched the horse to the buggy, and continued to think while driving. Lincoln didn’t seem to want to change things that much, so why get excited? Why did Jenny think the slavery issue so important? He’d seen the announcement of her engagement to Joe. His heart ached, his mind felt confused. How could she, when so short a time ago she said she cared for him? His father was right: young girls are fickle, he supposed. At least it confirmed his mind—he would throw himself into the Rifles and do the best he could for Captain Morgan. Others in the Rifles, like his friend Archie, were excited about ‘whippin’ the Yanks.”
✳ ✳ ✳
December 1860
Albinia looked out the train window. She had taken time to wrap up her affairs, yet not given anyone warning of her elopement. She told her employer she was leaving for a long holiday with relatives. At the next station, she got off temporarily to mail a letter and use the necessary. The letter would inform Will and her parents that she was marrying David in Baltimore. Her heart was torn between not wanting to hurt her parents, and joy to see David again. She knew Will would never understand—he didn’t see slavery as she did, and he’d chosen Morgan over his love. The miles went by quickly. In three days she alighted the platform at Baltimore’s railway station, to find David waiting for her. It would soon be Christmas, but not like any she had ever known.
“David! David, I’m here!”
“I’m so glad, my love. Finally, I can share with you my life and my heart. I’ve been so worried, with all the troubles. Lincoln’s election set off a powder keg. Did you hear? South Carolina seceded today! Oh, dear Albinia! I wish we had peace to enjoy our first days together. I wish I could give you a church wedding with friends and family. But I’m afraid we must be quickly married before a judge. Do you mind much?”
Albinia bit back her protest. She realized this is how it must be. They chose to elope. They could not expect all the conventional wedding trappings.
“No, David, I don’t mind. As long as I can be with you!”
“Good! I’m sure you’re tired. We’ll stay tonight at the Barnum Hotel. You can rest and freshen up. Tomorrow we can buy you a new dress. Then we’ll see the judge. I’ve a few days off, but we must be in Boston by the New Year. Georgia has announced a five thousand dollar reward for anyone who will kidnap Mr. Garrison and bring him there to stand trial. I cannot leave him for long. But oh how I’ve missed you!”
And right there, in the train station, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Albinia melted into his arms.
The next day they went on a mad round of shopping in downtown Baltimore, and found Albinia a dress that she liked. She actually would have liked to make her own, but there was no time. They appeared at the county courthouse before a magistrate. They filled out the necessary paperwork. Standing together with two witnesses from the court, they exchanged vows and were married.
Leaving the courthouse, David stopped, took both her hands, and said, “I have a surprise for you, my love. We only have a few days, but I have a friend, Horatio Ridout, who has offered us free use of his mansion and grounds, and Christmas with his family. It’s Whitehall in Annapolis, on the bay. Of course, if you’d rather, we could just go straight to a hotel in Boston. What do you say?”
“How generous of your friend to offer. Yes, let’s go there! It would be so much better to spend Christmas with a family than in a hotel. I enjoyed last night at the Barnum, but … I’ll miss my family terribly, and watching Lydia open her stocking. It will be good, being around children.
“Good! It’s settled then. I’ll just send a telegram and we can be there by late tonight. We can walk in the snow, stroll on the beach, and….”
“Yes!” said Albinia, squeezing his hand and blushing.
✳ ✳ ✳
Albinia and David arrived at the stately brick mansion. Albinia could barely imagine any place so grand, with the tall white Corinthian columns. A servant showed them to their rooms—everything was decked out for Christmas
As they entered their suite, Albinia saw that someone had put flowers everywhere, and a small table with two chairs was at the side of the room, complete with champagne and dinner. She was tired from traveling, from the disappointment of the civil ceremony, but now she wanted to make this first night as perfect as possible.
They talked, laughed, and finished the dinner slowly. Albinia was unused to champagne and only sipped a little of it. She felt awkward changing in front of David, but put on clothes more suitable and warm for walking. As the sun set, they walked hand in hand down to the beach.
“I wish we could stay forever,” said Albinia. “Not the grandeur of the house, but just having time, when no one wants anything of us, just to be together. We’ve always been so busy helping slaves escape, working … now for the first time, we have time alone.”
“I wish it too … but duty will call, and we must be in Boston soon. I … I want you to meet my parents. I’m afraid I have another surprise for you … hopefully not unpleasant. My father owns an iron works, making armaments for the military. I wanted you to love me for myself. I should have told you, now that I know you as well as I do, since I know you care little for money. However, we have a lot of it, and you’ll never need to worry about being comfortable—you can use your needle for good purposes, but you needn’t try to help support us. Does it matter very much?”
Albinia took this in a little nonplussed. Why hadn’t he told her? It wasn’t that she minded his being rich, just … she supposed he meant what he said, that he wanted to be sure of her love not for his money but for himself. Still, he could have trusted her. She saw his hopeful look and decided it didn’t matter.
“No, David, of course not—in fact, we can use it to advantage, to help the slaves. Tonight, though, let the rest of the world go on without us—let’s concentrate on each other. After all, I’ve never had a husband before,” she said shyly. “I do want to learn about you. I want to know everything.”
He turned to her, took her hands, and slowly drew her into a kiss, his fingers unpinning her hair, and his arm circling her waist. The sensations made her excited, afraid, confused, and longing all at once.
✳ ✳ ✳
Julia paced back and forth. Earlier that morning, Hiram’s father had a stroke. The doctors were with him now. Hiram was in Pittsburgh, overseeing the purchase and launch of a new steamboat. Kirsten sat in a corner of the hospital waiting room, knitting.
“I wish you would sit down, child,” said Kirsten peevishly. “You make me tired just watching you pace.”
“I don’t see how you can sit there and knit! Your husband could be dying in there!”
“Well, if he is, fretting won’t stop it. Sit down! You’ll wear a hole in the carpet.”
Julia sat in the rather uncomfortable chair.
The doctor emerged, coming over to Kirsten.
“Well?” she demanded imperiously.
“I’m afraid … I’m sorry to inform you. Your husband has passed away. We tried to revive him, but it’s simply no use. My sympathies, Mrs. Johannsen.”
Kirsten folded her knitting into her bag and stood. “Well, that’s it then. I’m officially a widow. I’m sure you’ll see to all the necessary arrangements.”
“Yes, madam. Do you want to see him?”
“No, no, I’ve seen quite enough death in my time to know what it looks like. Come, Julia, we may as well go home.”
Julia could hardly believe her coldhearted attitude. “But we must tell Hiram
! He’ll be worried.”
“All right, we can stop at the telegraph office on the way home.”
“Mrs. Johannsen, didn’t you love your husband? Doesn’t his death mean anything to you?”
“Actually, my dear, I’ve been expecting it for years. He never did take care of himself. Love? I suppose, after a fashion. He was always kind to me, and a good provider. Ours was an arranged marriage, an agreement between our fathers. No one consulted me. I’m sorry to see anyone suffer. But if you expect me to be a grief-stricken widow, you’ll be disappointed.”
“But what will happen?”
“You mean to us? The business? Well, I suppose that all depends on what is in my late husband’s will. We’ll find out soon enough. Fortunately, due to the recent legal changes, women are able to manage their husband’s business if he is away, falls ill, or dies. So I rather expect I will now run the company.”
“I see,” said Julia worriedly. If Kirsten were in charge, what would happen to her? She might be no better than a pauper. In her months in Cincinnati, relations between her and Kirsten had not improved. They stopped at the telegraph office, and Julia sent a short message to Hiram.
January 31, 1861
Hiram, Please come home soon. I’m sorry dearest. Your father had an apoplexy, and died.
Love, Julia
She would not rest until he returned.
✳ ✳ ✳
February 1861, Canada
Luther was bone weary and freezing. He stretched, and shook Jemima and Olivia to waken them. The fire in the stove in their small flat had gone out. The February chill reached in from outside with bony fingers to strangle out the warmth. The sun got out of bed later than they did. They must be at the mill soon. Luther worried a little how his mother and Olivia would survive if he left, but they were safe now from slave catchers, here in Ontario. He must go back. He thought grimly of Sam, Jameson, and other scores to settle. He found one coal still alive in the stove and coaxed it to life with their meager supply of wood and coal.
