by Lynn Austin
The officer peered behind Grady to look. “He’s telling the truth. I saw a slave at an abolition meeting back home who had been whipped for trying to escape. His back looked just like that.” He called to the Negro soldier again, and he came over to look, too.
“Yes, sir, that’s just what some massas like to do to us.”
The soldier who had captured Grady finally lowered his gun. “Sorry, friend. No hard feelings?” He extended his hand for Grady to shake. Grady stared at it, his own hands still raised in the air. No white man had ever offered to shake hands with him as an equal before. But the gun was lowered. They weren’t going to kill him. He gripped the soldier’s hand in his own clammy palm.
The captain thumped Grady’s shoulder. “You’re free, son.”
Grady heard the words, understood what they meant, but he couldn’t comprehend them. He took off his hat and wiped his sweating brow with his sleeve.
“Are there any others with you?” the Captain asked.
Grady struggled to think clearly as a floodtide of emotions washed over him. “Um … yeah. About a hundred of us escaped from Massa Fuller’s plantation. B-but we went our separate ways yesterday.”
Anna. He had left Anna behind. She would be free right now if only she had come with him. They would both be free.
“Come on over here and join your brothers,” the Negro soldier said. The other Negroes beckoned to him, welcoming him. One of them held out a canteen of water to him.
“I-I can’t believe I made it,” Grady murmured. He accepted the canteen and tilted his head back to take a long drink, hoping to hide the tears that had sprung to his eyes. But when he lowered the canteen again, the man who had given it to him had tears in his eyes, too.
“You don’t have to be ashamed,” he said. “We all know exactly how you feel. My name’s Joseph. What’s yours?”
“Grady.”
“Well, Grady, you can start praising the Lord right now, because you ain’t never gonna be a slave again.”
Grady closed his eyes and allowed his silent tears to fall. He had nothing in the world except his freedom, and that was enough.
* * *
All that glorious day, his first day of freedom, Grady had to remind himself over and over again, I’m free! I’m a free man! I’m not a slave anymore! He could scarcely believe it was true. If only Anna had come with him. And Delia. If only they could feel the way he felt right now.
Grady followed the band of Union soldiers as they scoured the woods for more runaways, and by some miracle they found thirtyseven other slaves from Massa Fuller’s plantation and led them all through the woods to the landing site. Another squadron of soldiers arrived a few hours later with twenty-three more rescued slaves. Then to Grady’s astonishment, he suddenly recognized one of the Negro soldiers in the second squadron. The big man was several years older than when Grady had seen him last, but the tension and anger on his dark face looked exactly as they had years ago.
“Amos!” Grady called out to him.
The big man looked up, puzzled, then slowly walked toward Grady. He carried his rifle with both hands, his finger on the trigger. “Do I know you?”
Grady quickly removed his hat, suddenly remembering that he still wore white men’s clothes. No wonder Amos looked him over with distrust and suspicion. “Yeah, Amos. It’s been nine years and I guess I’ve grown some since you saw me last. But we was in the slave pen together in Richmond. You looked out for me. We both got sold on the auction block to that slave trader.”
Amos’ face relaxed, coming as close to a smile as Grady had ever seen. “Right, I remember now. You was just a boy… . Now look at you! I thought you was some rich white man.”
“I stole these clothes from my massa when I run off,” Grady said with a grin. “But here you are with a gun and everything. How’d you get to be a soldier?”
“The Yankees come to our plantation near Savannah and set us all free,” Amos replied. “They talked me into joining Hunter’s regiment and gave me a gun. I finally got a chance to kill some white men, just like I said I would. Why don’t you join us?”
“And take orders from them?” Grady asked, gesturing to the white soldiers. “No, sir! I ain’t ever doing what any white man says again.”
“Not even for the chance to kill a few of them? Help set our people free?”
“Oh, I still plan on killing plenty of white men,” Grady said. “But I ain’t taking orders anymore or being a servant to nobody. Besides, I don’t need their permission if I want to kill somebody.”
“Suit yourself,” Amos said with a shrug. “They always willing to sign you up if you’re changing your mind.”
An officer shouted for the soldiers to begin lining up. They were about to board the boats. They told the rescued slaves to crowd in wherever they could.
“Where you headed?” Amos asked as he prepared to leave. Grady considered the question for the first time.
“Um … I don’t know. Where’s this boat going?”
“Beaufort. We’re camped near there,” Amos replied.
“Then I guess that’s where I’m going, too.”
Amos nodded. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
The ship with Grady on board arrived in Beaufort late that afternoon. He walked around town in a daze, barely recognizing the place. Supply boats and warships bristling with cannons filled the harbor. White men in uniforms swarmed everywhere, and the Stars and Stripes flew from every flagpole and church steeple. Soldiers tramped in and out of the finest houses along Bay and Craven Streets as if they owned them, using them as their headquarters or to house officers or store army supplies. Even the pretty white church that Massa Fuller used to attend had been turned into an army hospital. Vandals had pillaged and ransacked many of the homes, tearing down fences and outbuildings, chopping down trees. In one short year, the quiet beauty of pre-war Beaufort had vanished.
But Grady was free. He could stroll down the sidewalk heading anywhere he wanted, anytime he wanted, and nobody could stop him or shove him into the gutter. Dressed in Massa’s clothes, Grady was treated just like a white man in downtown Beaufort, although he saw many former slaves on the docks and in the streets who were being mistreated by the Yankees. Even so, he made up his mind not to pretend he was white. He was a Negro and proud of it.
As night fell and the sky began growing dark, Grady’s stomach rumbled with hunger. He had eaten the last of his food onboard the ship that afternoon, and now he was starved. He had no money, no friends, nowhere to sleep that night. Unsure what to do or where else to go, he walked the familiar route to Massa Fuller’s town house, circling around, by habit, to the rear carriage gate in the backyard. The washhouse and slaves’ quarters appeared deserted. He crossed the yard to the abandoned stables and ran up the stairs two at a time to the room he’d shared with Anna. He found it just as they had left it when they’d been forced to flee.
Grady hurried downstairs again, and was heading over to the kitchen to scrounge for food when he noticed smoke rising from the town-house chimney. He halted. As he stood staring at the back door, wondering what to do, it suddenly opened and Jim walked through it. Grady was astonished to see that the former slave wore one of Massa Fuller’s jackets and was smoking one of his cigars. Jim glared at him with suspicion for a long moment before Grady thought to remove his hat.
“Hey, Jim. It’s me—Grady,” he called.
“Grady? I almost didn’t recognize you. What’re you doing here?”
“I run off from Massa’s plantation a few days ago. Didn’t know where else to go, so I came here.”
Jim grinned, the cigar clamped between his teeth. “So you’re a free man now, eh? Just like us. Ain’t it great? Come on inside. Minnie will be tickled to see you.”
“Come in … into the house?” Grady stammered. He had never been allowed inside before, but Jim held the door open wide for him.
“Sure. Who’s gonna stop you? Massa Fuller ain’t coming back with all these Yankee
s hanging around town, that’s for sure. Me and Minnie got the whole place all to ourselves.”
Grady followed Jim inside the Big House for the first time in his life, astounded by what he saw. Beautiful furniture and carpets and household goods filled room after room, making the town house even more lavish than the fancy hotels where Massa Coop used to stay. Minnie was nearly unrecognizable in a white lady’s dress made of shiny, rose-colored material and lots of lace. She even wore one of those things beneath her skirt that made it stick out like a bell. Like Jim, she was wearing her former owners’ clothing—but then, so was Grady.
Minnie had set the dining room table with bowls and tableware for the two of them. A delicious-smelling pot of stew and dumplings waited in the middle of it. “Want some dinner?” she asked. “We was just sitting down to eat when Jim thought he saw somebody snooping around out back.”
“Yeah, thanks—if you got enough, that is.”
“We can make do.” She pulled another shiny white bowl and some silverware from a dining room cabinet and set a place for Grady at the table. He hesitated, then finally sat down at his master’s polished dining room table, certain that he was dreaming. He had to keep telling himself that there was no reason to be nervous, nobody was going to burst through the door and punish him for sitting at a white man’s table. These were his friends, Minnie and Jim. Massa Fuller was gone, and Grady was free.
“Where’s your pretty little wife?” Minnie asked.
Grady had to draw a deep breath before he could answer. It pained him to recall that Anna truly was his wife in every way. He loved her. But at the moment, he had no idea where she was.“She … um … she couldn’t come with me.” He was relieved when Minnie let it go at that.
“What’re your plans now that you’re free?” Jim asked.
“I ain’t really made any, yet,” Grady said with a sigh. “I been planning how to escape for so long that I ain’t thought about what comes afterwards.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay here with us,” Minnie said, “even though we ain’t got a lot. We been eating from Massa’s cupboards, but the food won’t be lasting forever.”
“It’s different being free,” Jim added. “Ain’t no massa giving us things no more. Folks like us gonna have to make a living now, if we want to eat.”
“How you been doing that?” Grady asked.
“Well, Minnie’s washing clothes for the white soldiers, and I been earning money at the docks, unloading freight. We was amongst the lucky ones who got jobs right away because we was living here when the Yankees first come. But it’s getting harder and harder to find work these days. I hear that more than ten thousand slaves was set free—just on the Sea Island plantations alone. Yes, sir, there’s plenty more folks looking for work than there’s work to do.”
“You could try one of the plantations,” Minnie said. “I hear the army’s letting slaves take over their masters’ cotton crops and promising to pay them wages when it’s sold.”
“I ain’t picking cotton,” Grady said, “and I ain’t working for 277 white men no more.”
“It’s gonna be awful hard to make a living, then,” Jim said gravely. “If I was as young as you, I’d join the army. They got Negro soldiers now.”
“Yeah, I know. Some of them was the ones that found me.” They ate in silence for a while before Grady asked, “How’d you end up back in Beaufort? Last I heard you and Martin had escaped after heading out to the fort with Massa Fuller.”
Jim lifted his bowl to slurp the last of his stew, then handed it to Minnie for a refill. “There was too many Yankees for Massa and the others to fight off. We helped ferry them all out of there when they had to give up the fort—and I saw a lot of dead and wounded men that day, I can tell you. But as soon as I got the chance, me and a few others just took off and hid in the woods during all the ruckus. The town was deserted by the time I come back here for Minnie. Yankees moved in a few days later.”
“What happened to Martin?”
“I don’t know,” Jim said with a shrug. “Last I saw him, he was helping Massa and the others at the fort. Ain’t seen him or Massa since.”
“You look all tuckered out, Grady,” Minnie said when the meal was finished. “You should have yourself a good night’s sleep before you go deciding anything. Why don’t you let Jim show you upstairs where we been sleeping?”
It took Grady a moment to realize that she was inviting him to sleep upstairs in the town house, not up above the stable where he used to sleep. He didn’t move, unable to picture himself doing it. Sitting inside the house at Massa’s dinner table had been a huge step for him; sleeping in Massa’s bedrooms would be even bigger. “I think I’m tired enough to sleep just about anywhere,” he finally said. “Even standing up.”
They talked a little while longer before Jim finally convinced Grady to follow him upstairs. He led him to an enormous room with a four-poster bed draped with curtains. The mattress, which was made of feathers and piled high with pillows and blankets, looked so soft and deep that Grady wondered if he’d sink down and suffocate in all that luxury. He suddenly thought of Anna, remembering their only night together and the way she had felt in his arms. How wonderful it would be to sleep beside his wife in this big, soft bed. He longed to see her wearing Missus Fuller’s fancy clothes, like Minnie did, and living here in the town house.
“Ain’t that bed something?” Jim asked, interrupting his thoughts. “White folks have it pretty good, don’t they?”
“Yeah. They sure do.” Grady was so angry he couldn’t think of anything else to say. While he’d been sleeping on cornshucks all these years, in smelly stables and drafty cabins, the white folks had slept in rooms like this one. He’d never been inside Massa Coop’s house in New Orleans or Massa Fletcher’s house in Richmond, but they probably looked much the same as this.
“Build yourself a little fire in the fireplace, if you want,” Jim said. “There’s plenty of wood. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Grady stood for a long moment, surveying his new room. If only Anna had come with him. They could sleep here together tonight—in freedom. But she had chosen to go with Missy Claire instead of him. It angered him to realize that she hadn’t been torn away from him against her will, the way all the other people in his life had been. The choice had been hers to make. Grady made up his mind in that moment to forget her. She wasn’t his wife, Anna, anymore. She was Kitty—a white woman’s slave.
As he finally undressed for the night, Grady suddenly knew what he wanted to do with his newfound freedom. He would make his way back home to Richmond. He could do that now, couldn’t he? As a free man, dressed in white men’s clothes, he could board a passenger ship and sail up the coast, just like Massa Coop used to do. Once he reached Richmond, Grady would help his mama and the others escape.
But first he would need to earn boat fare. Grady had no idea how much it would cost or how he would earn it. The only money he’d ever held in his hands was the loose change Massa had given him to buy drawing paper for Anna. Those coins had seemed like a lot of money as they’d jangled heavily in Grady’s pocket. He’d been very surprised when the store clerk made him hand them all over just to buy a pile of paper.
Grady climbed into the feather bed, too tired to make any more plans. For the first time in his life, softness and warmth enveloped him as he drifted off to sleep. But anger battled his exhaustion throughout the long, restless night.
* * *
“Do you know where that regiment of slave soldiers might be camping out?” Grady asked Jim the next day at breakfast.
“I hear they’re a little ways outside Beaufort, on the grounds of Old Fort Plantation. Know where that is?”
“Yeah, I drove Massa Fuller there a couple times.”
“You planning on joining up?” Minnie asked as she handed Grady a plate of biscuits.
“No. Just going to see an old friend.”
The warm sun shone brightly as he set off to find Amos. Why couldn�
�t the weather have been this fine on the day Grady and the others had escaped? Seemed like God was always on the white men’s side.
It took Grady an hour to walk the three miles to Old Fort Plantation, perched on a small spit of land along the Beaufort River. The Big House stood at the end of a long, tree-shaded avenue, looking tattered and war-torn since the last time he’d visited with Massa Fuller. Off in the woods, the neat encampment of white canvas tents appeared deserted, but Grady quickly spotted the men marching up and down an empty field in neat columns and rows. With their crisp, orderly movements, the Negroes looked just as fine as Massa Fuller’s white soldiers had looked when they’d drilled on the Green out at the Point last year.
Grady sat down to watch them, still amazed to see slaves in uniforms, carrying guns. The field slaves he’d worked with on the plantation used to shuffle to work on slow, dragging feet, their shoulders slumped, their spirits beaten down. He’d never seen Negroes like these men—their chins raised in pride, their shoulders squared, their feet lifted high as they marched in step with shouldered rifles. But the man shouting all the orders was a white man, and that spoiled everything for Grady.
The soldiers finally paused for a break around noon, and he found Amos. He was the biggest man in the troop and easy to spot. Grady accompanied him to the mess tent and waited beside him while Amos stood in line with the other soldiers. An atmosphere of contentment seemed to fill the camp, and the men laughed and joked with each other as they lined up for their food.
“Seems like you have it pretty good around here,” Grady said.
“Yeah, most of us was field slaves before. We’re getting plenty of food now, and warm blankets and clothes, too.” He gestured to his new uniform.
“I need to ask you something,” Grady said. “You’re from Richmond, ain’t you?”
“Yeah, I was born there,” Amos replied. “Left my wife and five kids behind when I was sold.”
“I want to go back and find my own family,” Grady told him, “but I ain’t sure how to do it. You know how much it costs for a ticket on a boat? Or how to get a job on one that’s heading there?”
