I glanced quick at the shadow of Harrison behind me. His fingers curled around my shoulder. “Keep movin,” he said, pushing me forward as if he could hear what I was thinking. “Ain't nothin wrong.”
But, truth is, the nearer we got to that doorway, the more I could feel something wrong. In my mind, I saw Reverend Pry and Mr. Keepheart shaking their heads and giving me that sad, sorry look—
“Go on,” Harrison whispered.
My heart pounded as we climbed out of the car. Seemed like there was no ground at all, as if the three of us were just jumping down into darkness.
“That all of you?” A man stepped out of the shadows of the railroad car. He was a white fellow, with hunched-over shoulders and short bowlegs. His voice was strange-sounding. Sharp.
“Yes,” Harrison said.
The man shook his head and spit a stream of tobacco into the darkness. “Bad night to come here to Sandusky. Slave catcher's bloodhounds got loose and killed twenty-four sheep outside of town two nights ago. You hear about that?”
“What?” Ordee Lee stared wide-eyed at the man. “Ain't this the North?”
I shot a quick look at Harrison, not understanding at all how slave catchers and dogs could be after us. Not when we had come all this way. We had taken railroads fast as the wind. How could bloodhounds still be after us here?
The man chuckled real low. “You figured everything in the North was free and clear, huh?” he said, shaking his head back and forth. “Well, now, I'm purely sorry to tell you poor folks that you are in more danger here”—he waved his hand at the darkness—”than probably anywhere else you run from.”
He looked at us. Me, Harrison, and Ordee Lee stood next to the whiskey car, like we had been struck dumb by lightning.
“See,” the white fellow kept on, “the lake's the last place they can pounce on you and take you back to the folks who own you, that's why. And there's always a bunch of man-hunters who watch our boats and make a living doing just that.”
He pushed the door of the whiskey car closed. “Don't know what else woulda killed those poor sheep, if it wasn't some slave catcher's bloodhounds. I ain't seen the bloodhounds myself, that's just what I heard in town,” he said. “But the other boys on the boat told me not to come here tonight. They said I was gonna get myself caught with runaways or torn up by dogs, and I should just leave the colored folks alone.”
The man spit into the darkness. “But I ain't afraid of nothing. That's what I told them. See if OF Bowlegs doesn't smuggle a few coloreds on board in the morning, I said.” He gave a crooked grin. “I already got thirty-one of you folks to my name this year.
“You just follow me to the docks,” he said, waving his arm for us to follow. “Ain't nothing to fear.”
Me, Harrison, and Ordee Lee walked behind the man like three trembly shadows, not saying a word to each other, just hurrying from one stopping place to the next. All around us were rows of dark sheds, and the air smelled strange and heavy with fish.
Ordee Lee stopped suddenly.
“You hear that?” he whispered, staring at us wide-eyed. Me and Harrison didn't wait to see what Ordee Lee was looking at in the darkness. We just jumped into the shadows of one of the buildings and crouched against a wall.
Then the sound started up again. It was a terrible creaking sound. Like a hundred old doors opening and closing. Or the rattling sound of a haunt's old bones.
My neck prickled with gooseflesh.
“Why'd you stop?” The white fellow came over to where we were hiding and looked down at us. “You want to have them bloodhounds find us?” he hissed.
Ordee Lee said he wasn't about to go anywhere with that sound.
“Ain't you never heard wood boats creaking before? That's the sound they make.” The man spat. He took ahold of Ordee Lee's big arm and pointed up at the sky. “We got an hour or two before first cock crow. I can't sneak you on the boats ‘til it's light. You just follow me, like I told you. Don't give me any more reason to stop.”
He hurried down a dirt path between two of the buildings and ducked into an open doorway. “Gonna hide in here,” he whispered.
The building smelled of rotted food. As we squinted into the darkness, I could see there were stacks of wood crates, barrels, piles of stove wood—and some things that moved. All around us, small shadows ran along the walls. My heart thudded.
Rats.
But the man didn't pay any mind to the rats crawling around him. Perching on the top of a barrel, he reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “You never set foot on a big boat before?” he said, taking a long swallow and wiping his hand across his mouth. “You never saw the Mississippi?”
Me and Harrison just stood where we were, not saying a word. Seemed as if I could feel those rats running up and down my skin.
“I come from Kentucky,” Ordee Lee said loudly. “Took a little skiff across the Ohio River. But I didn't like all that water floating around me. No, sir. Long time before Ordee Lee crosses a river like that again, long, long time.” He paced back and forth, making little squares as he walked.
“Well, you better get used to seeing some water again,” the man chuckled. “That lake you are gonna cross could swallow a hundred Ohio Rivers and prob'ly still drink up a few more.” Leaning his head back, he took a loud gulp of whiskey. “When the land disappears, it'll prob'ly look like the At-land-tic Ocean to you.”
Ordee Lee stopped. “What? Where's the land go?” he asked sharp.
“Where do you think?” The man wagged his head back and forth as if Ordee Lee was as thick as turnips. “You leave the land here behind and you don't see any more land until you get to Canada.”
My breath caught in my chest. I remembered how Lilly always said, “When we go on to the Promised Land someday, Samuel, we is gonna leave this old, tough world behind and not see any more land until we get up there in the clouds.”
“How far off is Canaday?” Ordee Lee asked, knotting and unknotting his fingers. “How long we stay on them boats?”
“Be there by evening with a strong wind,” the man said as he took another swallow of whiskey. “Long after nightfall if it's calm.”
“Lord,” I heard Harrison say under his breath. “Let those winds be strong.”
Through the open door of the shed, the sky grew lighter and lighter, like a piece of dark dye cloth being washed. It was getting close to morning. All around us, there was the sound of wagons creaking down the mud roads between the buildings. Barrels rolled past the doorway, and people talked in sharp, northern-sounding voices outside.
But, truth is, the closer we got to the break of day, the more my heart pounded. Trouble, trouble, trouble.
Harrison cleared his throat and pointed at the door. “It time?” he said loudly to the man.
The man rubbed his eyes and pushed his hat back on his head like he had been sleeping. “Well, now, could be. But I done this trick a hundred times, you know,” he said slowly, his words all running together. “All you does is just roll a few of these flour barrels”—he patted the side of the barrel he was sitting on—”to the Otter, the same as the other colored folks loading cargo, and you are as good as free. Nobody is gonna stop you for working on the docks. I done this trick a hundred times. A hundred and one times.” He put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Just keep hid,” he said, grinning at Harrison. “OF Bowlegs will have his little look-around.” Tucking the whiskey bottle in his coat, he staggered slow and swaying through the open door.
After he was gone, Ordee Lee whispered, “You think the three of us gonna be free today, huh? You think we gonna get to Canaday today?” He drummed his fingers on the top of a wood barrel. “You think these barrels gonna get us to FREE-dom? You think that fellow was tellin us the truth?”
“You hush,” Harrison snapped. “ ‘Fore people out there hear you.”
The man stuck his head through the doorway. “Roll those flour barrels right out here,” he said loudly. “Looks fine and clear. Let's load
up the cargo, fellows.”
But I had a strange feeling as Ordee Lee turned two barrels on their sides for us to push toward the door. Me and Harrison set our hands down, side by side, on one barrel. Ordee Lee took the other.
Looking down at our brown hands on those flour barrels, I felt my throat tighten, squeezing tighter and tighter. Hush, a voice whispered in my mind. Hush, someone's coming…
“Don't have all day,” the man said, waving. “Come on.”
Following the man's back, we pushed our barrels out the doorway and down the dusty road to the docks. The smell offish and the sound of the boats creaking in the wind grew stronger. The road was full of people and carts and wagons. Seemed like we were in the middle of a river of moving things.
As our barrels rolled onto the thick wood planks of the docks, my heart jumped. We at the dock already? We this close to freedom after all this time? The barrels rolled hard on the uneven planks. Thunk-thunk-thunk. The sound was loud. Too loud.
I kept my eyes down. Didn't look up at all of the people passing around us. Just their shoes. Fancy cloth shoes. Old patched shoes. Greased work shoes. Boots.
The boots moved in front of us. And stopped.
Ordee Lee's feet stopped.
“Get out your papers,” a hard voice said to us. “Lemme see them.”
Southern-sounding voice, boot-heel hard.
Fast, Ordee Lee's feet turned and spun around. They lifted off the dock like two black birds taking flight, going to freedom all by themselves—
But not fast enough.
Another pair of boots stepped behind us, and white hands reached out and latched hard onto our arms.
If you run, the river man said, they know exactly who you are…
Haste Will Be Your Undoing
We were caught.
As the white hand wrapped around my arm, I felt everything inside me crumble and turn to dust. Only thing left was my skin and my eyes. Everything else gone.
All the way from Kentucky me and Harrison had run and run, with the Lord looking out for us the whole way, seemed like, and all the time, he had known we would be caught on the docks where the boats go to Canada—that's what I kept thinking. He just let us run and run, knowing we would be caught at the very end, standing on the dock to freedom.
Harrison's head dropped to his chest and his shoulders slumped over. I could hear him mumbling and whispering, “Belle …Belle …Belle …Belle,” as they tied his hands together with a piece of rope.
“Cross your arms behind you,” the man said sharp to Ordee Lee.
Listen, Ordee Lee. Listen. Listen.
“I said, ‘Cross them,’ boy.”
There was the sound of a hand cracking across Ordee Lee's face. He crumpled to the wood-plank dock, and I heard the snap of the rope as they knotted his hands behind him.
“Lay down on the dock,” they told me and Harrison. “And keep still.” They tied our feet together with one piece of rope. Same as if they were tying up cordwood.
“Hope you wasn't thinking of going somewhere.” The one man leaned over us and grinned. He had a brown hat pulled low over his forehead and a chin stained yellow with tobacco.
The other man had narrow, close-together eyes. Those eyes stared at us like two pieces of hard flint. “I'm gonna hunt up the constable around here,” he said. “If the darkies don't have free papers, they run off from somewhere, and we'll just hand them over to the jail ‘til we find out where.” He poked his boot toe at Ordee Lee's leg. “You watch, Crane,” he said. “This one'll be worth some money.”
The white birds cried overhead, and the boats creaked and sighed at the docks. People walked past us slow, like we were something to look at. I could hear voices talking all around us. Strange to say, some of the voices sounded sorry. “A pity,” I thought I heard. “What a pity.”
Lying on the dock, I stared up at the gulls, wheeling and circling over our heads. I thought about Lilly and all the trouble she had seen, and Harrison being caught and beaten for running off, and his wife, Belle, being lost forever in a card game. I thought about my momma being caught when she was a baby, and then being sold off and taken away after I was born …
Seemed like all of the blackfolks were standing in a long, long line in my mind. Waiting for me to meet trouble, same as them. Our hard times is almost over, theywhispered, but your hard-times is all ahead of you.
The man who had caught us paced back and forth, and told people to move on and mind their business. “Don't you have nothing better to look at?” he would snap. “Go on with what you were doing.”
Closing my eyes, I pictured me and Harrison turning ourselves into some of the white birds in the sky and flying away to freedom. I pictured the people on the docks gathering around. Everyone watching us lift from the dock and fly away to Canada, just like a pair of white paper birds …
And then, out of the clear blue sky, a small thought came to me.
My eyes flew open. I turned my head to look over at Ordee Lee. He was lying next to me, his whole face twisted up with crying and tears. “Ordee Lee,” I whispered.
The boots shuffled farther off, looking at something, not noticing.
“Ordee Lee!” I hissed.
But Ordee Lee wouldn't answer.
Plan a way out, the river man had said. Haste will be your undoing.
Heels echoed loud on the dock, coming closer. The sharp-eyed man had brought the constable, a big man with black hair and earlocks down to his chin almost. Smelled strong of onions when he leaned toward us.
“Let them sit up,” the constable said, leaning over and frowning at us. “They ain't sheep.” I watched his eyes, the way they looked at me and Harrison and Ordee Lee lying there with our feet tied together and our hands behind us. And I saw something in his eyes. Maybe.
“They can get themselves up.” The man called Crane laughed and spit.
“I ain't movin,” Harrison whispered, turning his head to look away. “Go on and shoot me right here.”
“All three of them are somebody's slaves,” the man with the sharp eyes said loud. “I know three runaway slaves when I see them. Probably one thousand dollars sitting right there.”
I knew dirt when I saw it too. The two men who had caught us were dirt. That's what I said in my mind.
The constable heaved a sigh and tapped one of the loose planks with his boot. There were people circled around us now, I could tell, and they were all quiet. Seemed like even the air was holding its breath, waiting.
“Sure they ain't got free papers put away somewhere?” the constable said slowly, clearing his throat. “You asked them?”
“They got nothing but their black skin,” the man called Crane snorted. “And it ain't free. Anybody with eyes can see that.”
The constable sighed again and looked down at us, frowning. “Well, now,” he said. “Hmm. Well.” I saw the same thing I had seen before in his eyes. A flicker of something.
Look for weakness and plan a way out, the river man had said.
I tried my one thought. Cast it up into the sky. Just to see what would happen. “We got free papers,” I said. “Truth is, we been free more than a year.”
The two men who had caught us laughed loud. Spit and laughed. “Listen to the boy. Listen to him go on.” The people standing around started whispering and buzzing among themselves, sounded like bees. Sounded like a whole nest of bees.
The constable grew more of a frown.
“All right,” he said. “Untie them and let me see the papers he's talking about.”
“Ain't no papers,” the sharp-eyed man snapped.
“Untie them.”
They took their time untying the rope around our feet and pulled us up to sitting, mean as they could. I looked over at Ordee Lee hunched over beside me. He had his eyes closed. Blood and tears were dried all down his cheeks.
“It's in his coat,” I said to the constable. “He keeps our papers folded up in his coat.”
Leaning over, the constable s
earched through Ordee Lee's old coat himself. Pulled out a leaf of tobacco, an apple core, a half-burnt candle from the railroad, and the square of paper.
“This it?”
He held up Ordee Lee's precious paper, and Ordee Lee turned his head and fixed me with a stare mean enough to turn bones to powder. Figured I was bringing more trouble probably.
“That ain't nothin,” Ordee Lee said real low. “Ain't nothin.”
In my mind, I saw Green Murdock holding up those fancy willowware bowls and telling us how he had tricked an old woman into buying them. I thought about the fine smoked ham and the new tow-linen shirt that wasn't new at all.
And I looked straight at that constable and told a lie as smooth as Green Murdock himself. “Yes, sir,” I said loud. “You got our free papers.”
Harrison turned his head and whispered, “Hush, Samuel.”
“You awful smart for being the color you are, boy,” the man with the flint eyes hissed. “I hope you know who you are talking to.” Looking up at him and thinking of Master Hackler, I felt the snake squeeze around my throat.
Clumsy and impatient, the constable tore the paper as he opened it.
“Just tear the whole thing to pieces,” one of the men laughed. “We won't tell a soul.”
Probably no one but Ordee Lee, me, and Harrison saw the three curls of hair slip out of the paper folds and drift away on the wind. Nancy, Isaiah, and Moses. A shiver went clear through me. If anyone found out he had tried to kill a white man because of them, we would all be dead.
The constable held the paper open. Just an old scrap Ordee Lee had stolen from a book or a letter. He glanced down at it and over at me, a flicker in his eyes. The people on the dock moved closer, waiting. The whole line of blackfolks in my mind stood at a hush.
“What does it say?” the sharp-eyed man pushed. “They free or not?”
The constable folded the paper carefully, square by square, and gave it back to me. “What do you think?” he said, keeping his eyes down. “Says they're free.”
Trouble Don't Last Page 16
