Billy Boy

by Jean Mary Flahive

  “Testimony?”

  “The Testimony of Peace speaks to our belief that we are against violence of any kind. Friends oppose all wars and participation in military action. It is a belief that guides us in our everyday actions. And I have been waiting here to see this matter as God would see it rather than as human beings would see it.”

  “You askin’ God about me?”

  “I do not ask God; I listen. My truth springs from the leadings of my heart. While I was standing here, beside this grave, awareness filled my soul.”

  Billy glanced at her, trying to read the calmness he saw in Johanna’s face as she raised it to the morning sun.

  “God helped me achieve a sense of clearness,” Johanna said. “It is as if God said to me, ‘Thee must ease the suffering of this young man who is but a victim of this war.’ Thee turned away from darkness and into the light, Billy, and I know now what needs to be done.”

  “You ain’t sore then?”

  “I am at peace with my decision.”

  Billy sighed, but the comfort of Johanna’s arm around his shoulder felt reassuring.

  “Run and tell Elijah to stay in the loft while we walk into town. Thee will be leaving soon, and I will not send Elijah away without a pair of boots. These October days are turning cold.”

  Billy and Johanna walked down the hillside into a small ravine. Stopping beside a clear spring bubbling across a hollow of fine white sand, Johanna told Billy the spring was a small tributary of the Anacostia River. Its crystalline water, she said, gave the name Sandy Spring to the early Quaker settlement.

  “When we get to Stabler’s General Store, thee must speak very little to the proprietor. Mr. Bentley is a kind and decent man and once helped an escaped slave, but Elijah is running with thee, a soldier of war, and that is a different matter. I will let Mr. Bentley think that I am buying boots for thee.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  For the rest of the way Billy and Johanna angled their way in silence up the ravine and onto the gravelly lane that led to the town.

  “It is early yet, so I am hoping there will be no one else about at this hour,” Johanna said as they entered the main street. “In spite of the war, we see few strangers here.”

  As Billy followed Johanna up the steps into Stabler’s, he thought of the general store in Rockville and of pretty blonde Sarah standing in the aisle. But inside Stabler’s he saw only a tall, dark-haired storekeeper who turned and nodded at him as he fanned the flames in a potbellied stove and slammed shut its cast iron door.

  “Good morning, Richard,” Johanna called as she walked briskly across the floor.

  “And a fair morning to thee, Johanna,” Richard Bentley said with a smile. His bushy eyebrows raised in curiosity as he glanced over her shoulder. “Thee has a friend this morning?”

  “This is Billy, a friend of Anna Dickinson’s, from Philadelphia,” she said. “And most in need of a new pair of boots.”

  “A pleasure to meet thee, young man,” Mr. Bentley said, casting a glance at Billy’s boots. Again his eyebrows raised and a slight frown crossed his face. “Hmmm … well …,” he muttered as he turned back to the stove. “I must make the coffee, and then we shall see about new boots. Would thee both like some coffee since thee is about so early?”

  “No, I—” Johanna startled at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. Billy spun around and saw a short, heavyset man with a thick, graying beard walk into the store.

  “Has thee perked the coffee yet, Richard?” asked the bearded man. “A frightfully cold morning. It seems winter may be close upon us. A pleasant morning to thee, Johanna.”

  “Ah, Edward … thee shares a cup of coffee with Richard before thee handles the mail?” she asked, smiling.

  “Aye, it’s coffee and news we share each morning,” said the postmaster. “The telegraph keeps me well informed, and Richard and I discuss the events of this dreadful war.”

  “Thee may grind the beans for me, Edward,” said Richard.

  Glancing curiously at Billy, Edward removed his wool cap, stuffed it into his pocket, and walked over to the stove. Reaching for a square tin container on the shelf, he opened the lid and measured several spoonfuls of beans into the grinder. “Word is that General McClellan may soon find himself out in the cold. It’s rumored that President Lincoln will remove him from command of the Army of the Potomac.”

  Billy’s eyes widened with curiosity.

  Edward carried the ground beans to Richard, who tossed them into the coffeepot and placed it on top of the stove.

  “It is as we suspected, then, my friend,” said Richard. “How could Lincoln not grow impatient with McClellan’s ineptness in pursuing General Lee’s army?” With a wry grin, he glanced at Johanna and Billy. “Imagine two old Quakers so knowledgeable about the strategies of war.”

  “In all but the fighting we are,” said Edward.

  Billy swallowed hard, glanced quickly at Johanna, and turned to the postmaster. “Army’s got a new general?”

  Edward’s eyes narrowed and he hesitated before he spoke. “Aye, lad,” he said slowly as he held his gaze on Billy. “General Ambrose Burnside. I hear that he has not distinguished himself in battle, but it appears the president has no other promising candidate.” He leaned over the stove and warmed his hands. “This new general speaks of a rapid march south to Richmond.”

  “A rapid march?” asked Billy.

  “Indeed, the Union troops are moving out as we speak,” answered Edward. “And Burnside claims his grand divisions will take Fredericksburg by Thanksgiving.”

  “All the troops moving out to—?”

  Billy bit his tongue and glanced at Johanna.

  “Thee certainly brings the news to Sandy Spring, Edward,” Johanna interrupted as she reached for the empty mugs on a small pine-board table.

  “Oh, and that’s not all. Peyton Foster, that ol’ scoundrel from Rockville, came into the post office yesterday.”

  Taking a mug from Johanna’s hand, Edward poured the coffee. “Would thee like a hot cup, Johanna? And thy friend?” Johanna nodded her head, and he handed a steaming mug to Billy.

  “Tell me about Peyton,” said Johanna.

  Edward sipped loudly. “Oh, yes. Peyton says two fugitives are on the run together—a deserter from the army and a runaway slave. Claims they were headed here. Can thee imagine a more unusual pair!”

  Startled, Billy turned quickly to Johanna, spilling some of his coffee across the floor. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Bentley,” Billy stammered. The storekeeper’s eyes lingered on Billy for several moments.

  “It’s no bother, lad,” Richard Bentley spoke in a near whisper. “Thee does not need to worry about a thing.”

  Johanna paced nervously across the floor.

  “Why would the fugitives come to Sandy Spring?” Johanna asked, moving between Billy and the postmaster, her tall frame blocking Edward’s view.

  “Thee knows there is talk that some Friends here help runaway slaves. But I fear these abolitionist groups are becoming more and more militant, and I do not believe that we should become entangled in this growing violence. There are more peaceful means to press for the abolition of slavery that Friends can pursue. And doubtless a Friend would not help a soldier of war.”

  Johanna opened her mouth to speak, but Richard interrupted. “I long for the day, Edward, that thee will come with telegraph in hand declaring that this terrible war is ended,” he said.

  “We must pray it will be so,” Johanna said quietly.

  “Well, I know thee is expecting a telegraph, Johanna, so I will leave and tend to my business. Good day to you all,” Edward said, smiling politely. He put down his coffee mug and left the store.

  Richard Bentley stood silently for several moments, took a long deep breath, and stared at the array of boots stretched across the long table. “What size boot does thee need, lad?”

  “I-I-I—”

  “Thee needs a size ten,” Johanna said quickly. “And I fear we have lost m
uch time already. He will not need to try them on.”

  In spite of Johanna’s urgency, Richard stood before the table for several moments. Finally, he reached for two pairs of brown leather boots and handed them to Billy. Turning to Johanna he said, “If I may assume correctly about this matter, then I understand two pairs of boots are needed.”

  Johanna stared in stunned silence.

  “Billy must no longer wear the ones he has on now, Johanna. The lad’s boots are army issue.”

  Richard reached into a bin and tossed Billy two pairs of socks.

  “Richard …” Johanna started.

  Richard gently placed a finger on her lips. “Thee is a most resolute woman. Thee need only to ask for my assistance and yet thee chooses to turn away.”

  Billy glanced back and forth at Johanna and Mr. Bentley, confused by their stern expressions. “You sore at Miss Johanna?” he asked.

  “No, lad,” Mr. Bentley said, his face breaking into a smile. “Johanna is a most willful woman, and I am merely humbled in her presence.”

  “Thee is a good man, Richard. What do I owe for the boots?”

  “Thee owes me nothing.”

  “Thank you for them boots, Mr. Bentley,” Billy said shyly.

  The storekeeper bowed his head and clasped his hands behind his back. “And a safe journey, I pray.”

  Billy poked his head out over the loft at the sound of the door creaking along its rusty track. Yellow light flickered in the sudden draft, casting wavy shadows against the wall as Johanna entered the shed, the lantern raised above her head.

  “Miss Johanna!” Billy called out in sudden relief.

  “They all gone now?” asked Elijah, creeping on his hands and knees beside Billy and peering down at her.

  “Yes, our meeting for worship is over. Only a few Friends gathered this evening, and Isaiah Brooke, the only one on horseback tonight, tethered his horse to the hitching post out front. It was fortunate that no one required use of the shed. And, I have sweets for thee both.”

  Johanna hung the lantern on a spike protruding from the rafter and reached into the pocket on her apron. “Elizabeth Applewhite made sugar tarts.”

  Excitedly, Billy leaned back and pulled the ladder across the hay, and with Elijah’s help lowered it over the loft until it landed with a heavy thud on the floor.

  “I have much to discuss,” said Johanna as Billy swung his legs onto the ladder and, skipping the last few rungs, leaped onto the floor. Picking up an empty crate, Johanna turned it over, clutched the folds of her dress, and sat down.

  “This be about the Underground Railroad, missus?” asked Elijah as he scrambled down the ladder behind Billy. Billy handed him a tart, all the while licking the sugar off his own.

  “Yesterday when we talked, I explained that the Underground Railroad is only a name given to the escape routes to Canada. And homes that offer food and shelter along the way are called stations.”

  Johanna reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I received this telegraph tonight before our meeting for worship. I’ve been waiting for a reply from my friend Anna Dickinson, a Quaker at one of the stations in Philadelphia. She is willing to help thee,” Johanna said, moving back to the overturned crate. “Anna and I have done this before; we send hidden messages in our telegraphs. I have great trust in her.”

  Johanna fidgeted, stood up, paced a few steps and back again, and sat down on the crate. “This evening, after I read the telegraph, I asked Mr. Bentley for the use of his wagon on the Sixth Day, so that I may take thee both to Ellicotts Mills.”

  Johanna looked directly at Elijah. “Thee will be hidden in the tailboard, under blankets.”

  “Where we goin’, Miss Johanna?” asked Billy.

  “Anna will meet us at the Emory Methodist Church in Ellicotts Mills. From there thee both will take the train with Anna to Baltimore.”

  “This white folks’ train station?” Elijah jumped to his feet. “No, Missus Johanna. Slave catchers be there.”

  “But there is a way to fool the slave catchers, Elijah,” she said. “Hear me out, please.”

  Johanna turned and faced Billy. “Anna is about thy same age. Anna and thee will travel as husband and wife; Elijah will pass as thy slave. There are still many white people, slave owners in Maryland, who bring their slaves with them on the trains—it will not be an uncommon sight. The slave catchers will not stop thee. They linger at stations looking for runaways who have no papers or try to steal rides by hiding under the cars. They will not bother slave owners or question them about thy slaves.”

  “Elijah ain’t got no papers!”

  “Husband and wife?” said Billy, panicked.

  Johanna took a deep breath. “Anna will get papers from the provost marshal or the station master if it becomes necessary. This way, thee both will be able to ride the train to Philadelphia instead of walking, at great risk, over a hundred miles.”

  “Elijah don’t know, Missus, don’t know … This Philadelphia be in Canada? Elijah be free there?”

  “No, Canada is still a long distance from Philadelphia, but there are many people there who can help thee. Anna has friends at the Anti-Slavery Society. Thee is a free man in spirit only now, but soon, thee will be a free man under the law.”

  “Anna’s friends help Billy, suh, also?”

  Billy filled with despair when he saw Johanna shake her head.

  “The people I speak of at the Society help only runaway slaves. But that is why I have asked Anna to help. She is far more able to find a way to get thee home, Billy. Anna will see that thee rides the train north.”

  “But if I’m a husband and all—”

  “No, Billy, I forgot to answer thy question. Anna and thee will not really be married, but papers will say that thee are husband and wife—slave owners—and that Elijah is thy slave. It is the only way for Elijah to ride the train.”

  Billy jumped to his feet and paced rapidly across the floor, dropping his tart in the excitement. “I ain’t never talked much to a lady before. Ain’t knowin’ how to be married.”

  “It is only for a short while—to fool the slave catchers until thee arrives in Philadelphia. Then Anna will take thee both to a safe place where thee will wait until it is time for Elijah to leave for the next station.” Johanna folded her hands on her lap.

  Billy continued to pace, kicking at the scattered wisps of straw on the floor.

  “Is all right, Billy, suh,” said Elijah as he walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Missus Johanna, she tryin’ to help us now.”

  “I ain’t knowin’ how to be married.”

  “Billy, suh, we just gonna pretend. We got to fool other people on the train. Like you fool the white folk in the store.”

  “You mean where I got them ginger candies?”

  “Yes, Billy, suh. Now you fool the people on the train only. They go and think you be married, but you ain’t, no, suh.”

  “And you’ll be with me?”

  “Yes, suh.”

  “All right, then.” Billy sat back down beside Johanna and scanned the floor for the rest of his half-eaten tart.

  Johanna smoothed the folds of her skirt and continued. “There will be two trains. Thee will board a train in Ellicotts Mills—it is a short ride into Baltimore. Anna will know what to do. When thee arrives in Philadelphia, Anna will take thee to the people who will help thee get to Canada.”

  “They white folk?” asked Elijah.

  “They are freemen, colored people. They call themselves the Vigilance Committee. They have offered aid and comfort to escaped slaves for many years.”

  “They nigguh folk like me?” Elijah asked with excitement.

  “Thee must not call thyself by such a name, Elijah. It is used by evil people who do not see thee as equal in the eyes of God. They are colored men who have earned or bought their freedom.”

  “Then Elijah go to Philadelphia, missus. See his people. This a good plan.”

&nbs
p; Johanna stood and lifted the lantern off the spike. “There is still much to work out, but it is late. I will see thee both in the morning.”

  Chapter 17

  The old farm wagon bumped noisily along the dusty turnpike. On the buckboard beside Johanna, Billy was glum. Elijah lay motionless in the tailboard, layers of blankets piled over him. Johanna had given Billy strict orders not to talk to Elijah at all, not even when there was no one around.

  “This is Ashton, but we most often refer to it as Porter’s Corner,” Johanna said.

  Billy nodded but said nothing as he glanced at the approaching crossroads. It was a small settlement with only a general store, a blacksmith, and a wheelwright’s shop. They rode in silence through the open countryside, an endless landscape of apple orchards and brown hillocks speckled with decaying cornstalks.

  Billy was thinking about Harry and Leighton and his other friends. He was glad he had Elijah for a new friend, but he sorely missed his pals from home. That telegraph man at the store said all the troops were on the move south. Some big fighting was in store, for sure. Billy was worried his friends would get hurt by one of those big guns. He wished he had had the chance to say good-bye to them before he cut out, and he hoped they weren’t too sore at him for what he had done, but they probably were. Not wanting to think about that, Billy slipped his haversack off his shoulder and pulled out his knife and a small block of wood he had found in Johanna’s shed. He studied the wood, turning it over and over in his hands, and began to whittle. Flakes of soft pine fell steadily onto his lap.

  Johanna shot a puzzled glance in his direction. “What is thee doing?”

  “Whittlin’ is all,” Billy answered, brushing the chips off his trousers. He couldn’t tell her he was carving the Meeting House. Elijah wanted it to be a surprise when they said their good-byes at the station.