by Marian Wells
It was late afternoon when Alex docked the Awl for the night. He came down to the cabin with a grin. “By late tomorrow night we’ll be finished with our roaming.”
“Wonderful!” Crystal sighed. “I was beginning to think it would never end. How I look forward to a normal life—for a time,” she added hastily.
Alex looked at Olivia. She continued to stir the contents of the kettle. Without pausing she said, “What is normal? Crystal, it seems we’ve lost sight of that.”
“True,” Crystal murmured. “Not a one of us has had a normal life for over a year now.”
Bertie lifted her face and turned toward each one in the cabin. She seemed puzzled. Alex asked, “You’re wondering about us?”
“No,” she said, “I thought of myself and wondered about normal. Guess I don’t know what it is.”
When the evening meal was over, and after Alex had read scripture, he closed his Bible, realizing it needed to go in his pack. The thought swept over him with a sad sense of finality.
Olivia was washing the table. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Olivia, Crystal, I need to talk to you. And Bertie, you too. Please come to the pilothouse as soon as you finish.”
Seeing the expression on Olivia’s face, he added, “I want to see you now.”
She followed him up the stairs. Alex closed the door and leaned against it. In a voice high with tension, she asked, “You are forcing me to stay here?” Realizing his position, Alex stepped away from the door, saying quickly, “No, my dear, not at all. I’m thinking about what should be said.” He went to the bench, adding, “Come sit here and I’ll tell you.”
Taking her place beside him, stiffly she said, “It will do nothing for our relationship to have you coax.”
“Olivia, I’ve no intention of ever addressing the subject again. Now listen, the others will be here—”
Bertie and Crystal came into the pilothouse. With a sigh he stood up, took a deep breath and began. “Thank you. It seemed best to be away from the others. I don’t wish to alarm them unduly. Now, this is the plan. I want to arrive at the Coopers’ wharf tomorrow late in the evening. It will be dark.”
He paused, adding reluctantly, “I must tell you, there have been several things that have happened in the past month which have made me uneasy. I don’t want to alarm you in any way, but there’s a possibility we are being watched. If my suspicions are correct, the slaves are in danger of being apprehended also.”
“Also?” Olivia questioned.
“Of course, I’m their target; after me they’ll go for the slaves. Caleb, Matthew, and I have discussed the problem and the best solution seems to be for the boat to arrive after dark. Caleb will drop me off, then slowly travel on. If I make it to the house without being detained, we’ll place a light in the attic. Caleb plans to stop just around the next bend. From the pilothouse he’ll have a good view of the Coopers’ attic window. When Caleb is certain everything is under control, he will bring the boat back to the wharf.” He shrugged. “That’s all there is to it. But I felt you should know before we arrive.” He paused, then went on in a rush. “If by chance I am taken, it will be up to the rest of you to take the slaves on to the next station. I’ve given Caleb the names and locations of other groups who will see the people make it into Canada.”
Alex got to his feet and grinned at the women. “That’s it. Hopefully we’ll not have an opportunity to use the plan, but it seemed best to be prepared.”
The women filed out of the pilothouse; only Bertie looked at him with fearful eyes.
That night, Olivia lay staring wide-eyed at the pale oval of light coming through the porthole. Where there should have been a heart was only a numb, tender spot. She considered all the brave words she had said to herself during the past week. Even the decision she had made to return home. How could I have thought I had a choice? Obedience is either obedience or disobedience. Is it possible for a child of God to disobey and still belong? Her mind shied away from the thought. But there’s Alex. It is unfortunate he doesn’t have someone to love him.
Near morning she realized she did have a choice. Whether or not she obeyed was a decision to be made. And as for Alex, it was impossible to resolve that pain. More was involved than just simply loving a man. Loving Alex carried no possibility of compromise, either on his part or hers. “It is impossible for Alex to walk back into the old life, and I won’t walk into his new life.”
She closed her eyes and dreamed back the childhood pictures of home and family, knowing she could not surrender them. Turning away from the light coming through the porthole, she felt a pang of loss. “Is there a deeper element to life, one I don’t understand?” She had a feeling something was slipping away from her, and she knew it by the unmistakable sense of loss.
Still wakeful, she tossed on the bunk and finally sat up. “There is something I must do,” she decided. “And it isn’t so much related to God as simply that Alex is a friend. Tonight I must follow him when he leaves the boat, not because I care about him, but simply because he is a friend worthy of help.” She returned to her bunk and slept.
During the day, Alex seemed as cheerful and pleasant as a youth on a fishing trip. Olivia packed her bag, and Crystal’s eyes widened. “But Crystal,” she explained, “he doesn’t expect the worst; why should I? You will be the one caught without her nightie and toothbrush.”
The afternoon and early evening lolled away with dreaming indifference, as passengers and crew took their leisure in the shade of the main deck. Only Olivia noticed the preoccupation of Caleb and Alex. As they dashed around, she guessed their activity in the pilothouse was related to the telescope she saw trained on the forest that surrounded them.
That evening their meal was light and hasty as they prepared to get underway. When the first stars came out, the Awl moved back into the channel and chugged slowly up the Ohio.
The children were put to bed and the decks deserted. The hours passed in silence. Not one light graced the boat when Olivia felt her way down to the main deck. Moving quietly to avoid disturbing the roustabouts, she stashed her bag behind the stairs and sat down on the coil of rope.
She slept, but when she awakened, it was without a sense of time. At first she thought there was only silence, and then she became aware of the quiet, rhythmic motion of the roustabouts as they stoked the furnace. Another sound was added, and after listening intently, she knew it was Alex.
Her heart began its slow, heavy thumping. The time had come. Now, with every sense alert, she watched the cluster of houses and dark shadowed barns. As they passed on, the scene was replaced with towering trees sweeping down to the bank.
Alex moved to stand in the shadows, and she could tell he was watching the shoreline. She saw him lean over the railing. Quickly he stepped to the engine house. She heard the slowing of the engine and the paddles. With her heart in her throat, she gathered her bag and waited in the shadows.
Now the boat was scarcely moving; the swish of paddles could have been a school of fish. She saw a shadow merge with Alex’s, heard a voice. A roustabout leaped to the wharf and held the boat close. Taking a step forward, she watched the place Alex stood. When he moved, she followed. He turned. “You!” Slipping her arm through his, she tugged him into the path.
The boat moved on, nearly imperceptible in the dark. Olivia trembled against Alex as they started up the hill. They were nearly away from the stand of young hickory when they heard the shout. “Alexander Duncan!”
She felt the tremor go through him. “Right here. What do you want?” From all sides the men came out of the bushes. Alex thrust her away from him. “Run!”
Powerless to move, she watched. With his arms flailing he met the crowd. For a moment he stood. In the dim light she saw the heavy stick rise and fall. She watched him tumble to the ground and hard, cold anger swept through her. Charging, swinging the bag, she screamed, “Beasts! You’ll kill him.” And when the crowd gave, Olivia threw her head back and screamed.
Amid
lights, lanterns, torches, and people, Amos Cooper, who came running from his house, appeared beside her. “Give way!” he roared. “What is the meaning of this, attacking a defenseless woman?”
The torch revealed the face of the town constable. Amos faced him. “McInn,” he shouted, “what is an honest man doing sneaking through my pasture in these wee hours?”
The man stepped forward, “An honest day’s work, Sir. These men have been charged with the task of arresting Alexander Duncan.”
Olivia gasped and stepped forward. “Outrageous! You beat a man senseless and then call it arrest?”
“We’re not about to let him escape. Ma’am, he is being charged with the illegal exportation of slaves. Under the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 he is guilty of theft, seduction—”
There was a moan from the figure on the ground and Olivia whirled away from the constable. Alex sat up. Holding his hands to his bleeding head, he tried to rise. Two men dragged him upright. “Duncan, you’ll have to come with us, either peaceably or in bonds.”
To Olivia the scene ceased being a dream when she heard Amos’ weary voice. “Where are you taking him?”
“For now, to the county seat. He will be arraigned there.”
One of the men holding Alex said, “Might be, if you want to tell us now where to find the slaves you carried out of Mississippi, might be, it will go easier with you.”
“Paddyrollers!” Olivia hissed. The man turned quickly and Alex raised his head. She went to him, “You can’t take him like this; he needs a doctor’s care.”
“He’ll get it in jail.” The man nudged Alex with the club he held.
Amos’ hand was strong on hers, “Come, child. There’s nothing more we can do.”
The crowd around Alex moved off, and Olivia wearily stooped to pick up his bag. “Oh, Amos, he’s terribly injured.”
“I don’t think a big strong lad like that will be hurt badly. Tomorrow we will get in the wagon and go see him. It’s only fifteen miles.” His hand was gentle on her arm, as he led her to the house and Sadie.
By the time she reached the house, the scene beside the path seemed like a bad dream. But that impression disappeared when Olivia saw Alex’s blood on her hands.
“Thee has been hurt, too?” Olivia shook her head and tried to find the words to explain.
Amelia drifted close, offering a glass holding a bitter drink.
****
In the morning, Amos, Sadie, and Amelia sat around Olivia, patting her shoulder and listening to the story. She kept pushing at tears with a trembling hand. “I don’t know why I am acting like such a baby.”
“Well, thee’ll just have to get thy gumption in gear and eat thy breakfast if thee wants to go with me,” Amos rumbled. “I aim to be on my way before noon. Ladies, pull yourselves together and do some praying. We’ll get that young fellow out of there in no time.”
“They may seize the boat and find the slaves,” Amelia said slowly. “Those poor people will have to face being returned to their masters.” She paused. “That seems worse than Alex’s injuries.” She looked at Olivia and touched her hand. “Now, eat your breakfast so we can leave.”
When they reached the jail at Hadenport, the jailer looked at the women. “Only one of you can go in, and I ’spect it oughta be the mister.” Amos nodded and went on in.
Olivia paced the floor while the others sat quietly on the splintery benches. Amos returned quickly and rushed them outside.
He nodded toward Olivia. “He’s going to be fine. It wasn’t a bad wound. He’s fearfully worried about those people, and I’ll have to search around a bit, see if they need help. They arraigned him under the Act, charging that he’s guilty of refusing to support and uphold the law. Unless someone can help him, it looks like six months in prison and up to one thousand dollars fine for every slave he’s stolen.”
“Stolen!” Olivia gasped. “That makes him sound like a common criminal.”
Grimly Amos said, “We need to go home and get a prayer meeting started. Praying for those people to make it to the Promised Land does two things—makes them safe, and Alex too.”
Chapter 40
Leaving the jail, Amos drove directly home. They stopped only long enough to drop Olivia at the front door. Sadie said, “We’re going to the meeting house.” Her lips were a firm line and her eyes snapped as she added, “This is one the enemy isn’t going to get. Do as intended, Olivia, while we organize prayer for them all.”
Olivia went inside and began rummaging through Matthew’s clothes until she found dungarees and a faded blue shirt. Quickly she changed. Pinning her hair on top of her head, she said to Amelia who had been watching her, “I need a hat to cover this.”
“There’s Amos’ old straw hat; will that do? What about shoes?”
“I think Sadie’s old boots will work.” Olivia looked at the mirrored image that closely resembled a young boy.
She followed Amelia downstairs. “I prefer bareback; that will fit the image better, don’t you think?”
Amelia nodded. Narrowing her eyes she looked at Olivia saying, “You’re taking this pretty hard.”
“We’ve worked hard to bring the people this far.”
“I’m talking about Alex. Olivia, it’s obvious you love him.”
“And it’s obvious you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Olivia muttered. “Alex is a friend. I intend to return home as soon as the problem is handled.”
“Like you did last time?” Amelia grinned as she shoved the packet of bread and cheese into her hand. “Want a bottle of water?” Olivia nodded and Amelia continued, “I suppose you’re not interested in taking advice from the likes of me, but don’t make a mistake. I did. Sometimes you can’t retrace your steps.”
Avoiding Amelia’s eyes, Olivia slowly pulled on the straw hat and picked up the bottle of water. “I’ll ride as far as I can today. According to Amos’ map, I should be able to contact two stations. What I find will determine whether I go on.”
Olivia put the bridle on the young mare in the pasture, and led her to the fence. Crawling on her back, she chuckled, “It’s a good thing I grew up on horses.” She patted the mare’s neck.
The July sun scorched through Matthew’s thin cotton shirt as she left the pasture. Olivia pulled the shirttails free and settled the hat firmly on her head. “There. I look like a youth more intent on fishing than hunting,” she murmured.
Just ahead the road curved into the forest and she welcomed the shade as she urged the horse into a lope.
The first station was at the northernmost curve of the Ohio. Olivia studied the paper she held in her hands. “Jasper is their name. Go straight north of the Duggle wharf. Stone house. There’s a red barn with an open hayloft window. The safe flag is hay visible in the window.”
The slanting afternoon sun had tempered the blast of heat, and the sun was on her back as she rode up the lane. She found the house and the barn. The window above the barn door was empty. Trying to appear at ease, she tucked her shirt back into the trousers and straightened her hat, and then walked to the house.
The woman who appeared in the doorway eyed her with suspicion. “I know nothing about a steamboat called the Golden Awl, nor a man by the name of Matthew Thomas.” Her face softened slightly as she looked at Olivia. “Want to come have a glass of buttermilk?”
Olivia said, “I would appreciate it very much. I’ll need to ride on.”
While she sat at the table and sipped the buttermilk, the woman said, “We haven’t had visitors for quite some time.” The sharp eyes conveyed the message, and Olivia nodded.
She finished the buttermilk and stood up. “I must go. Thank you.”
According to the map she carried, the next station was far north and east of the rounding curve of the Ohio. For some time Olivia contemplated the significance of its position and then touched the point on the map showing the southernmost station, south of Pittsburgh. While the horse moved restlessly under her, she mused, “It isn’t l
ogical to consider them traveling south, away from Canada. I’ll head for this northern station.”
The sun was setting when Olivia arrived at the tiny farmhouse with the big stone barn. She eyed the barn and smiled; it seemed a likely place to house slaves.
As soon as they opened the door to her, the elderly couple led her to the supper table. Olivia hesitated, shrugged, and pulled off the hat. The man’s eyes twinkled. “Thought for certain you were a boy. I’m Jake Warner, and this is Isabel. Why are you out wandering around by yourself?”
His gentle question had Olivia blinking back tears in her eyes. Isabel said, “You’re tired. Sit here, have your supper, and then tell us about it.”
As soon as they finished eating, Olivia explained her journey. Jake shook his head. “There’s not been a bunch through here for a month. Seems likely to me that they’ve headed north before now. People don’t linger long on these trails.
“Likely you’ve missed them. Now, about that steamboat.” He stopped and rubbed his forehead, looked up, and said, “I don’t know where you’d hide a steamboat in these parts. There’s not a waterway connecting with the Ohio that would take a steamboat, even in flood stage. About all I can do is be alert to news drifting this way. Is there a message for them?”
She hesitated, but desperation forced her to say, “Tell them Alex has been arrested. He’s been charged with refusing to cooperate with the terms of the Fugitive Slave Act.”
Jake shook his head. “That’s bad. They’ll have a case against him if they find the slaves. Guess about all we can do right now is pray. Now you come get a good night’s sleep.”
Early the next morning Olivia turned the mare homeward. Her heart was heavy as she thanked the Warners for their hospitality. Jake’s eyes were filled with sympathy as he said, “At our age it seems all we can do is pray and keep an open door.”
Looking into his face, she said, “You’ll never know how important that is.”
