"Sounds like a fool plan," muttered Tom, but Sissy stepped up to George and loudly asked, "What's my new name? Where're my papers, so I can get studying 'em right off?"
George pulled forth a paper from his pouch, declaring Sissy, "Miss Mary Eloise Smith."
"Why, what a fine name," said Daisy.
"Mary Eloise Smith," repeated Sissy. "Sounds like... like a queen."
"Got a mighty fine sound to it," agreed Ichabod.
"What's your freeman's name, George?" asked Sissy.
"George Henry Hillock."
Everyone laughed now. "I be the Third," said Tom. "Why, because my pappy had the same name, and his pappy before him."
Ichabod waved a hand and shouted them down, saying, "Now listen here! George can read, I can read some, anyone else here who can read raise your hand, even if it's only a little."
Of the fifty or so people assembled two hands timidly rose.
"All right," said Ichabod, "then we have to work hard to teach the others what their freedom papers say. Rest of you, you have to learn your new names like you wore them your whole life."
"So we sit it out here for the night," said George, "until nightfall tomorrow."
"And until you all learn who you is!" added Daisy.
"Can't never use your slave name even inside your head, ever again," added Ichabod.
George finished with, "Any lawman we run up on, he is going to want to know who you are, now! Not who you once were!"
Another hour of moving northward on the mighty river and suddenly someone from onshore shouted, "Hello on the boat! Can we come aboard? Out of the storm?"
Everyone froze. "My Lord, it's over before it's begun," whispered Daisy.
Everyone looked to George to do something, and when Grady lifted a gun, George held up a firm hand, calmly staring at Grady but talking to Daniel. "Daniel, you're the master of this here keelboat for now. so go out and greet our guests."
"What do I say, George?"
"Just open the door a peek and tell 'em you're all full up, tell 'em you got the smallpox aboard, anything to keep their feet onshore."
"Shelter for the night! We saw your lights!" cried out the man from shore. "Just me and my boys!"
Daniel went shakily to the door and peered out into the gloom. He saw a man in a rain slicker, with several younger men standing around him. Each of them was dressed in a long raincoat. All were white, tall and looked serious.
Daniel whispered back to George, "There's four whites, all with long guns and dogs."
"Runaway catchers," moaned Ichabod.
"Colfax is the name! Isacc Colfax and sons!" shouted the older man.
"Tell them we’re putting in for shore and they’re welcome to come aboard, Daniel," ordered George, lowering his weapon and smiling.
"What?"
Grady and Tom glared at George.
"Just allow them inside. Everyone stay calm. I know these men," said George.
Daniel, with the help of two others, brought the keel boat to shore. Daniel shouted over the pounding storm, "You're welcome to come inside for a spell, warm yourself by the fire." He then stepped back and swung the door wide, the warm light creating a path for the strangers. The men stepped through the cabin door one at a time, each ducking the overhead beam. As soon as all four were inside, staring at the collection of black people, Grady jabbed a gun into the leader's'cheek and said, "Welcome aboard, you lowlife bounty hunters."
"We can use their clothes," said Tom.
George held his hands up, having put his rifle aside. "Grady, no need for the gun, and Tom, no man here could fill Mr. John Fairfield's shoes, so we won't even try."
"George!" shouted Fairfield. "We come a long piece to find you!"
"This here boat is a fine place for reunions," said Daisy, her contagious smile lighting the room.
SIXTEEN
PUSHING NORTH TOWARD FREEDOM
Ichabod stepped around George and took Fairfield's hand, pumping it wildly. "We heard tell a lot about you from George."
Daisy stepped closer and hugged Fairfield, introducing herself as George's mother. "I owe you so much, me an my boy," she said softly.
Sissy brought in some steaming stew for the Underground Railroad men. "Y'all just come sit by the fire and dry your clothes," she suggested.
Ichabod and George sat with the Fairfield men before the blazing fire. "Lord works in mysterious ways, mysterious ways," said Ichabod, looking into the flame.
"How'd you find me?" asked George.
"Not sure," said Fairfield, "but my boys and me have been everywhere you've been, George. Got your scent at Colonel Halverston's, went on to Blainys, and since we missed you there, we turned back for the river, on our way back to our boat, but the storm took her, and we just stumbled onto your light."
"Heard tales of a crazy black bounty hunter and his dog, running runaways," said one of Fairfield's sons, and they all laughed. "Where'd you get a half-baked notion like that, George?"
"It seemed a smart idea at the time, and it got me pretty far."
Mr. Fairfield was stern now. "You should've confided in me before running off, George."
"He's always had a problem with that, my boy has," said Daisy.
"So I see," replied Fairfield. "But this stunt, George, jeopardizes all that my boys and I have worked for for years. You know everything about our operation, every station house, every line, every signal, the cargo, freight and packages stopping and going along the way. Someone in law enforcement catches you and beats that kind of information from you, my boys and me will rot in prison somewhere."
"You needn't have worried. I would never tell no one about you, Mr. Fairfield."
"Really? And I suppose all these good people read about me in the Missouri Democrat?" He waved a hand to include everyone listening in. "They all knew my name as soon as you pronounced it, George."
"These my family, Mr. Fairfield. Every one of them is sworn to keep your secrets."
"I hope you're right. George."
"Nobody could ever make me tell about you and your road, Mr. John," said Sissy, ladling him more stew. "They'd have to cut my heart out before I'd tell."
"That goes double for me," said Ichabod.
Fairfield and his grown sons smiled and nodded at the enthusiasm for keeping their secrets, but they were also aware of the more sullen member of the group.
"Well, folks, " began Fairfiled, "I look around me, and 1 see near fifty people who know what I stand for and precisely who I am. I have to tell you, it's the first time I've ever revealed myself in Missouri an honest man with no disguise. It feels good. I'm glad you all know how important our work is, and that it must remain secret, so long as the laws stand as they are."
"But pa," said one of his sons, "look here what George has accomplished. It takes years of planning to get a group this size out of bondage. Now here we have fifty people who need our help."
"We haven't ever tried to run out more than five or six at a time, at most," added a second son.
"The Mississippi River is the most traveled path in these here United States." said Fairfield. "It'd never work, boys."
George lifted his buckskin pouch. "I made out papers for fifty, Mr. Fairfield. I come first and foremost for my momma, but I knew there'd be more willing to come out."
"Fifty sets of papers? All up to your usual standards, George? You must have been planning this for a year."
"And then some. And as far as giving away your secrets or being a liability to the Underground Railroad, I ain't talked to no white man 'cept for Colonel Halverston."
Fairfield turned on Daniel and asked, "What's he, if he's not white."
Daisy defended Daniel immediately, "He's different."
"We'd all be on the auction block in St. Louis by now if it hadn't been for Daniel," said George.
"He helped in our escape," added Ichabod. "You can trust Daniel."
Grady gruffly said, "That's right. Risked his own white skin for all 'un us."
> Grady's men cheered and nodded their agreement.
"St. Louis, huh?" asked Fairfield.
"Auction block, huh?' asked his elder son.
Fairfield's set eyes and square jaw softened now. "How'd you come to get all these people free, Daniel? A whole boatload of former slaves? How many lawmen do you people have after you, George? And why the devil are you sitting up under these trees as such easy targets? Not so I could find you? Why aren't you all pushing for north?"
"North!" shouted Grady, "sounds like a real place to me for first time in my life."
"North," repeated Tom, his eyes glistening with thoughts of freedom.
"North, North," the group began to chant. George jumped on a chair and shouted everyone down. "Not before you all learn your lines!"
That quieted everyone down in agreement.
"Storming out over the big muddy anyhow," soothed Ichabod.
As the night and the flat boat continued on, George and Ichabod recounted the story from the time Daniel first met George, and they explained their plan to the Fairfields.
All night and half of the next day, the slaves studied their new identities with the four Fairfield men now helping them out with reading and memorization work. By late afternoon, the sky turned black as night and the rain raged again.
The keelboat took advantage of the bad weather and fewer people being on the river. She moved northward.
SEVENTEEN
THE ROAD IS THE WAR
The men took turns at the keels. When the current and the storm made forward movement impossible, they moved closer to shore. Now men were pulling at overhead tree limbs to move the boat along the next foot. At least here, the water wasn't so angry.
George. Fairfield, his oldest son, Ichabod, Grady, Tom, Daisy and Sissy sat worrying o^er how they meant to get past Hannibal. "Maybe we ought to split into smaller groups," Fairfield was saying, "some taking to ground, others staying afloat."
The idea was met with a chorus of nays. No one wanted to split up. Then Grady said. "If it makes everyone else safer, then me and Tom and some of the boys, we can go our own way."
"No, we run this out together!" George stood, adamant.
"Be reasonable, George. Anyone get a look inside here, see this many black people assembled, what're they going to think?"
"I don't know, maybe they'll think we're all on some excursion."
This made several break into laughter. "Yeah, Charles Wileford the Third is cruisin' the river," said Tom. "What's so strange 'bout that?"
"You Blainy slaves got some good clothes on your backs," said Grady, "but us Grimes men, freedom papers or not, we don't stand a chance. We are still looking like slaves."
"How many sets of clothing do we need here, George?" asked Fairfield.
"Maybe as many as forty."
"If we had the material, we could make 'em," said Sissy.
"Even if we had the material. Sissy, we ain't got the time," Daisy softly corrected her. George squeezed Sissy's hand in his. The two had become sweet on each other.
"It's a kind thought. Sissy," George said to her.
"Sarah, my real name's Sarah," she corrected him.
"No, no it can't be. It's Mary Eloise Smith. Get that firm in your head, Mary Eloise."
Daniel could stand no more of the worrisome problems facing them, so he stepped out on deck to enjoy the storm. As soon as he did, he saw a light in the distance, way out across the river. The light blinked on and off, far to the north, but it appeared to be coming right for them. Several of the keelboat men on deck were pointing now, some making out the outline of a steamboat. "Steamer!" shouted one.
"Appears to be in trouble!" shouted another.
Daniel ducked back inside and shouted to George and the others, "A steamboat's heading for us! Coming up north way!"
All the men raced outside and stood silently on deck in the storm, watching the approaching light. The steamer's light reflected off the mist and a growing fog, making it appear larger and closer than it was.
"It's a steamer all right," said George.
Mr. Fairfield asked his eldest son, Robert, to have a look. The young man climbed onto the roof of the flatboat and stared out over the water. "She's a beaut, pa, a side paddle-wheeler! Heading right for us, but she's half-sunk! Must've hit a bad spot in the storm and got heaved to. She may be underwater by time she reaches us."
"Seeing anyone on board?" asked Fairfield.
"No, pa, she look's deserted."
"Keep your eyes on her son." Turning to Ichabod, Fairfield said, "You must've done some powerful praying, Mr. Ichabod. If that's a downed steamer, there'll be leftover trunks and bags filled with clothing on board."
George stared at Fairfield. "Tom, Grady and me, we'll go"
"Boarding a moving steamboat caught in the current can be tricky, George, and if you're going to get in and out with enough to make it worth your while, you'll need plenty of hands. Six, maybe seven at least," replied Fairfield.
"I won't endanger your sons, Mr. Fairfield, not any more than I already have."
The younger son, Jason, perhaps twenty, stepped up to his father and George. He said firmly, "I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and I'm going aboard her."
Fairfield’s eldest son, Robert, hopped down from the roof and said, "She's completely abandoned, pa, but water's dragging her down fast. Count me in."
His third son, William, volunteered as well, and Fairfield said, "My sons speak for themselves."
Daniel stepped up to the men and pointed to a small rowboat tied to the back of the flatboat "I can handle the oars on that boat if Grady and Tom will get it into the water."
Grady and Tom got the boat into the water, and Fairfiled placed his hand on Daniel's shoulder, asking, "Think you can keep the boat in tight, son? The water's mean and choppy, and the steamer'll be beating you off. It'll be a wild ride."
"I can do it. I've had lots of experience holding a boat."
"We've got plenty of men can handle the boat," said George, not wanting to place Daniel in such danger.
"None of them can swim. Leastways George, if I fall over the side, I got a chance."
Ichabod said, "George, the boy's right. They still don't give slaves swimming lessons."
George nodded slowly and agreed to Daniel's piloting the boat.
Daniel looked up again to see that the steamer, closer now, looked like a floating palace, as if Colonel Halverston's mansion had been thrown into the river. But it listed to one side.
Still on the keel boat and safely inside the cabin, well lit now by a warm fire, Mr. Fairfield commanded everyone’s attention. "Men," said Fairfield, "we have to be careful out there, and keep it simple. Get on, find any trunks you can and get off. You won't have but a blink of time before that old girl is under the Mississippi."
Everyone going climbed down off the keel boat and into the rowboat. Daniel took one oar, Robert Fairfield took the other, for the time being.
The rain came down in slanting, stinging pellets. The river swelled over the sides of the little boat, and the water was cold as it filled the boat to their ankles.
The light of the crippled steamboat coming at them over the black river proved fearsome. Boarding a steamer in mid-river, one in control and operating, was difficult and risky even by daylight. Boarding one out of control and only half above water from a small craft could be disastrous.
George shouted over the storm, "Pull that'a way!"
Daniel fought the left oar and Robert the right. Their rowing proved accurate, strong and trained, and they fell into sync with one another. The fear in the others calmed as they watched Daniel and Robert cut a clean course right for the steamer. Whenever the boat twirled around with the powerful current, Daniel expertly worked his oar or Robert worked his to right it. If the spin was too strong, they lifted both oars clear out of the water, allowed the river its way with the boat, and after the boat righted itself, they continued.
"Where'd you learn how to handle an o
ar like that?" asked George of Daniel.
"Whenever I could," Daniel began as he rowed, "I'd get me down to the wharf at Hannibal. There was an old feller there who hired out boats for people to go across the river. He paid me to take folks out, and once or twice 1 got caught up in bad weather. Don't take a strong man, just a good notion about right and left, and how oars best work in the water. I admit, my arms are tuckered out some!"
"How we going to board that steamer?" asked Grady.
The steamboat loomed up large behind Daniel now, and looking over his shoulder, he watched the lights grow sharper. He could see the huge smoke stack and side-wheel. The poor listing ship looked like a wounded white whale.
Tom and the others were bailing water from the bottom of the rowboat. George studied the steamboat from all angles as he would any problem. Finally, he said, "The wheel, Daniel! Head for the paddle-wheel. There's a ladder alongside it, and it'll place us dead center of the steamboat when we board. We can fan out from there."
As the steamer came near, Daniel and Robert rowed in easier. Grady stood now at the prow of their small boat and almost fell overboard, but he righted himself and let fly the rope like a cowboy. The rope missed its target, but a second attempt caught hold. The men cheered.
For a moment, they felt the steamboat's pull, but Grady held firm to the rope, and he and the others began to tug and pull the small boat tight into the monster steamboat's paddle-wheel. They came to rest at the ladder.
"Can you see her letters?" asked Daniel.
"W-A-L-T-E-R," read young Robert Fairfield aloud as Grady tied off the rope.
"Why, she's the Sir Walter Scott," said Daniel, sad at having learned the fate of the gilded, proud steamer.
"You know of her?" asked George.
"She put in at Hannibal all the time," he replied. "She was a beauty, she was. So proud and piping with organ music all the time. Playing "Dixie" all the time real loud whenever she made her way into Hannibal. She was getting old, her paint peeling about the edges, and her black iron rusting, but she was big."
Daniel Webster Jackson & The Wrongway Railroad Page 12
