“Yes, suh. Last time only. Buckra tell Mastuh, and they take me to the curin’ barn. Buckra strip me naked and tie rope around my wrists and hoist me up off the floor. Feet almost clear the floor. Whupped me good while I be hangin’ from the rope. Then Mastuh tell Buckra to pour some rum he drinkin’ over my back and cob me good.”
“Tell us about the cobbing.”
Elijah looked directly at the committee members. “With a corncob. Buckra pour liquor and make Elijah’s back feel on fire. Then he scrape that husk all up and down Elijah’s back. After a time, Elijah pass out.”
One of the committee members mumbled under his breath. “How in the name of God …”
Still stood up from the table, paced the floor, turned back and paced again. Then he approached Elijah. Bending down on his knees, Still said, “Elijah I want to see what this evil man did to your back. Will you show it to me?”
Elijah shook his head. “No, suh. Ain’t no one gon’ see this back again.”
Still placed his hand on Elijah’s knees. “This committee has seen the scars of many slaves—slaves who have been badly beaten.”
Elijah motioned for Still to come closer. “Why Elijah got to take off his shirt? Maybe white folk here tell Mastuh Fowler,” he whispered.
“Oh, Elijah, you have my promise that no one here will tell Mr. Fowler anything. We are here to help you. You must believe me and trust us.”
Elijah looked straight at Still for a long moment.
“All right then.” He nodded.
“You have suffered greatly, Elijah,” Still said as he stood. “It is a testimony to others to continue the fight for our freedom.”
Elijah nodded and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Slipping it off his shoulders, he tucked it against his waist. William Still placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. Elijah felt Still’s fingers running over the jagged scars that began at the top of his neck and disappeared below his waist. He winced when Still’s hand ran across his lower back. Ol’ Joe had said there was barely enough flesh left there to reach the other side. For a long while, Ol’ Joe had worried that the battered skin would never heal.
Placing his hands on Elijah’s shirt, Still pulled it up over his shoulders. He walked to the hearth and stared at the flames. Finally, he turned away from the fire.
“Elijah,” Still said, “you said it was the last time—is that when you decided to run?”
“After the cobbin’, Buckra say Mastuh sell Elijah on the auction block. But Ol’ Joe, he tell Elijah to run. He fear Elijah die like his son. He say ain’t no white folk gon’ buy Elijah with this back.”
Still walked slowly back to the table. “So you ran like Ol’ Joe told you to, in order to save your life?”
“Yes, suh. Then Mastuh send the slave catchers after me.” Elijah started to shake.
Still placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“And where did you plan to run to?”
“Ol’ Joe say go west and run the rails north. He say go to Sandy Spring ’cause the Underground Railroad take me to Canada.”
“Quite a story, Elijah,” Still said. “Son we’re nearly finished here. I have just a few more questions. Questions we ask all of the runaway slaves we interview. Elijah, suppose your master was to appear before you and offer you the choice of returning to slavery or death on the spot. Which would be your choice?”
Elijah stared at William Still and the committee members. Without blinking his eyes, he spoke in a hushed tone. “Elijah cross the waters before he go back, Mistah Still.”
“I understand,” said Still.
“Even if it were with Master Ramsey?” asked Coates.
“Elijah ain’t gon’ be no slave again and be sold to ’nuther bad mastuh,” he said angrily. “Mastuh Ramsey, he a good mastuh, but Elijah don’ want to go back.”
Still’s eyes flashed. “There is no such thing as a good master or a bad one, Elijah. Because freedom does not exist under either.”
“Elijah be free now, Mistah Still?”
“Tell me, what does freedom mean to you?” Still reached for his pen.
Elijah squirmed. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question. The only life he had ever known was under watchful eyes while he worked in the fields. And Pappy, well, he’d worked in the same fields his whole life, too, and he’d probably die in them, like Mama. Some slaves, like the ones who worked in Mastuh’s house, had better food to eat, and some even learned to read and write, but they still weren’t free. Elijah fidgeted in his chair and stared at the floor. Then he remembered something Billy once asked him—early on, at the creek.
“Mistah Still? Elijah think he know what freedom be,” he said finally.
“And what is that?”
“My friend Billy, suh, well, one time he ask Elijah if he ever been fishin’. Maybe freedom mean Elijah can go fishin’ when he want.”
“Yes, Elijah. Sometimes freedom is as simple as going fishing.” He looked at him and smiled.
Still glanced at the other committee members. “Does anyone have any further questions?”
“If I may digress for a moment—about his first master,” said Coates. “Did you go to church at Master Ramsey’s?”
“Nigguhs only go to the preachin’ place, suh, under the tree. Preacher, he come on Sunday.” He heard his name whispered across the floor, turned quickly, and looked at Billy.
“You ain’t supposed to say that word,” Billy said.
“Elijah mean coloreds.”
“Did you feel that the preaching you heard was the true word of God?” Coates continued.
“Oh yes, suh.”
“Even with all the suffering you endured at the hands of the overseer, Elijah?” asked Depee. “You still believe the Lord takes care of you?”
“Preacher tell us nig—coloreds—Lord gonna help us. Just like he done when he bring Billy, suh, so Elijah don’t die by the creek. Then he bring Billy, suh, and me to Missus Johanna and Missus Anna. They take care of us. Preacher say wicked folk spread out on the earth like branches on an oak tree. But the wicked gonna perish, he say. Then all little folk is gonna see the blessin’s of the Lord. Preacher say we got to believe. So Elijah believe—yes, suh, even when the whuppin’s come, Elijah believe.”
“Amen to that, Elijah” said Still. “Nathaniel, I think we are finished with the interview. Perhaps you can explain to Elijah what happens next.”
Nathaniel Depee nodded, cleared his throat, and talked about the general route on the Underground Railroad that would take Elijah through northern Pennsylvania, New York, and on to Canada. “If your father ever escapes, Elijah, or if we can learn some word of him, we will pass that on to you. That’s one of the reasons we want to know so much about you, and know where you will be living.”
Elijah rubbed his sweaty palms across his pant legs. “Can Elijah go see Billy, suh, in Maine?”
“Let’s see how this war evolves, Elijah,” Depee answered. “For now your freedom requires you to go to Canada. You will be leaving tomorrow.” Nathaniel Depee glanced around the long table. “It’s late in the evening and time for us to close.”
Gathering his notes, Still said, “Gentlemen, it may be that Elijah, as one of the few field hands we have interviewed, is less articulate than the house slaves we have interviewed, but I will be the first to say that he speaks within the soul of every man.” He closed the leather journal and smiled. “God willing, Elijah, you will be in Canada in less than a week’s time.”
“What gonna happen to Billy, suh, Mistah Still?”
“I have thought of a plan for Billy,” said Anna as she approached the table, hands clutching her handkerchief. “I will talk to him about it this evening.”
“Elijah,” Still said, “when you are settled in Canada, I hope you will go to school, learn to read and write, and succeed from this day forward. Perhaps you might even end up a preacher.” He led him across the worn floorboards.
“Elijah gonna write his name, Mistah Still, and learn to read. Then Elija
h teach Billy, suh, too,” he said, his spirits lighter.
Chapter 22
Cold water spewed from the kitchen pump, spilling over Billy’s head as he leaned over the sink. Goose bumps rose on his skin when Anna dipped the bar of soap under the flow and then dug her fingers into his scalp, rubbing the soap into a frothy lather. Despite the fact that his head bobbed up and down from the push of her busy hands, and the soapy water dribbled into his nose and down the back of his neck, Anna’s fingers soothed Billy’s nerves, which were spinning like a whirligig.
Anna pumped the handle several more times, one hand tickling water and soap from his ears before the frigid water numbed his scalp. Relief washed over him when Anna splashed a kettle of warm water over his hair until it squeaked clean. His scalp was tingling as she wrapped the towel around his head, covering his face as she rubbed the towel back and forth in furious motion. He stumbled blindly as she backed him onto the stool, cheerfully giving him directions. Then she brushed and smoothed the dampened hair away from his face, and pouring more water into a pitcher, sent him to his room to finish washing. Clean clothes, she said, were laid out across the rocker.
Billy put on the homespun white shirt and black pants and attached a pair of suspenders to his waist before he pushed his arms through the sleeves of a long black coat. He stared at his reflection in the beveled mirror on the dresser and, smoothing back his shiny hair, placed the black broad-brim hat on his head. The clothes hung loosely on him; his face looked pale and gaunt against the darkness of his clothes.
He smoothed the wrinkles in the flannel sheets, pulled the pale green quilt over the single bed, and then picked the pillow up off the floor, stuffing it into the lacy cover slip leaning against the headboard. He scooped up his canteen and haversack from the top of the blanket chest and flung them over his shoulder. Using the heel of his boot, he straightened the rag rugs scattered across the floor, tucked his soiled clothes under his arm, and took one last glance around the room before he closed the door behind him.
Billy opened the French doors into the parlor and stood quietly in the entryway watching Anna tie back the muslin curtains. He thought it a beautiful room even though there wasn’t much furniture, the largest piece a grandfather clock in the corner. Dark cherry wainscoting rose from oak floorboards, scrubbed worn and pale. A rocker sat near the hearth, and a pine drop-leaf table decorated with a small lace doily stood against the far wall. Billy stepped forward.
Anna turned at the sound of his footsteps. “Thee is handsome in a gentleman’s suit!”
“Feel a might strange in these clothes,” Billy said.
“Well, thee now looks like a Quaker. But Billy, thee must wear the coat over the canteen and haversack.”
She waited as Billy shed his army issues, took off his coat, and looped the canteen and haversack straps over his neck. Then he put the coat back on. “The provost marshal will not so much as glance at thee now. With God’s will, thee will have an uneventful journey from this day forward.”
She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, crossed her arms across her chest, and paced back and forth in front of the fire. “I think we should go over the trip one more time. Thee will be taking the Philadelphia and Trenton Railroad as far as New York. And since there is no rail between New York and Boston, thee must take the steamship to Fall River, Massachusetts, to catch another train to Boston.” She hesitated, her glance meeting him squarely in the eyes. “Does thee remember the name of that train?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, frustrated. “You sore at me?”
“No, Billy, I’m not angry with thee, but I see I will need to write these things down. Thee will be able to ask someone kindly looking to read them for you if you forget. It is the Old Colony Railroad that runs right into Boston. Thee will change trains one more time, to the railroad that takes thee to Somersworth, New Hampshire.”
Billy brightened. “Berwick’s just across the river, like I was telling you. Me and my friends took the train out of Somersworth when we enlisted.”
He followed Anna into the kitchen, clothes bundled under his arm until she reached for them and tossed them into an empty hogshead in the corner. “I ain’t likin’ these good-byes,” he said, slumping against the wall, hands in his pockets.
The thought of facing the rest of his way home without Elijah frightened Billy, and he remained sullen throughout the morning and the long carriage ride across the city. Only when the horses pulled to a stop in front of the Anti-Slavery Society office did his mood brighten as he charged up the narrow staircase two steps at a time to William Still’s office. Elijah stood at the top of the dimly lit stairwell to greet him.
“Billy, suh, you some fine-lookin’ white folk this morning!” Elijah said, chuckling.
“Miss Anna went and washed my hair.” Billy yanked off the wide-brimmed hat and glanced over his shoulder. Anna was halfway up the stairs; her bonneted head bowed as she raised her skirt, carefully maneuvering the narrow steps. Billy whispered. “Miss Anna and me’s still married, seems like.”
“Billy!” William Still stepped into the hallway with a surprised, appraising glance. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You look dapper in Quaker dress.”
Billy wondered if Mr. Still had heard him talking about Anna; he pinched his lips in embarrassment and then turned his head and glanced down the stairwell. “Miss Anna’s comin’ along, Mr. Still.” Billy rushed to the top of the landing and waited for Anna. Once she’d joined him, they followed William Still and Elijah into the office.
“Miss Anna says I got to carry me a Bible, even if I can’t read,” Billy said to no one in particular. “Needin’ to fool the provost marshal when I take the train to New York.”
Anna smiled. “His clothes already served him well at the station this morning when we purchased his ticket,” she said. “The provost marshal walked by and never gave him a glance.”
“That is good news,” Still said with a quick look at his pocket watch. “Well, Elijah will be on his way by sundown, so it seems you lads are on your final journeys. We need to be across town shortly, so I’m afraid you two don’t have much time together. Perhaps, Anna, you and I could go downstairs for a short while.”
Still walked across the floor and reached for his coat, turning to face Billy and Elijah. “I’m sorry your time together has been shortened.” With a nod to Anna, Still led her out of his office, closing the door behind him.
Billy looked around the room, spotted a bench, and sat down. Staring at the floor, he twirled the wide-brimmed hat in his fingers. His initial excitement upon seeing Elijah faded with the reality of their parting.
Standing behind Mr. Still’s desk, Elijah ran a finger back and forth along its edge.
“You goin’ to school in Canada?” Billy finally asked, breaking the silence. His stomach churned with anxiety.
“Mistah Still say Elijah work and go to school. He say they lots of colored folk in Canada.” Elijah didn’t return his glance. “What you gonna be doin’, Billy, suh?”
“Don’t rightly know. Just stay on the farm, I reckon, unless the army finds me,” he said. He paused and watched quietly for several moments as Elijah began pacing across the floor, stopped, turned and paced again, his hand rubbing his chin.
“Billy, suh, Maine got them provost marshals?”
“Well, there’s lots of army folks there.”
“They any colored folk in Maine?”
“I ain’t never seen colored folks in Berwick. Thing is, I stay on the farm most times.”
“They slave catchers there?”
“On the farm?”
“No, Billy, suh. In Maine.”
“Naw, ain’t never heard of no slave catchers.” He crinkled his brow as he watched Elijah pace across the floor again. Finally Elijah turned and faced him.
“How Elijah gonna find this farm?”
“You comin’?” Billy let out a whoop, tossed the hat in the air, and yelped again as it fell to the floor.
“Yes,
suh. Elijah come by summertime.”
It was all Billy needed to hear. For several minutes he talked animatedly about the farm, his folks, and Jamie. “Then just before you cross the Little River, there’s a lane gonna take you right to the farm.” He hesitated, glanced at Elijah, and drew a big sigh. “Seems like a long time from now, summer and all. And you bein’ so far away.”
“Maybe not so far.” Elijah raised his face to the ceiling, his eyes closed. “When night come, North Star be right up over both our heads.”
“Ain’t both of us seein’ the North Star—you bein’ so far away in Canada and all.”
“Billy, suh, we both be under the same ol’ sky—moon and stars, they all the same up there.” Opening his eyes, he lowered his head and stared at Billy. “And every time Elijah stand under that star, he be thinkin’ about Billy, suh.”
“And I’m gonna lie me right down in the pasture and look at the star, too. And I’ll know you’re right there—just like we was talkin’ and all.” Billy crossed his arms over his chest, scrunching his nose. Another thought crossed his mind. “I been wantin’ to whittle something for you,” he said. “Come summertime, I’ll have it ready. What you wantin’ me to whittle?”
“You whittle Elijah a fish. Then Elijah think ’bout the creek.”
“All right.” Suddenly Billy jumped to his feet, uncrossed his arms, and sliced them wildly through the air in a wide arc. “And I’m gonna whittle me a spear right through the fish!”
“That right, Billy, suh. That the only fishin’ Elijah know.”
Billy froze in place. His excitement evaporated. “What if the army shoots me like Leighton says?”
“Billy, suh,” Elijah said shaking his head, “it be like the army shootin’ Elijah too—right in the heart. That where Elijah carry you, Billy, suh, right here—the thought of you, I means.” Elijah poked a finger to his chest. “Just like Elijah carry his mama and pappy.”
Billy reached down and picked his hat off the floor. “I’m wantin’ you to make a promise.”
“What promise you want?”
“If they shoot me—I’m wantin’ you to take care of my little brother. Like you was in my place.”
Billy Boy Page 17
