Flash For Freedom! fp-3

by George MacDonald Fraser

  It was so cool and measured and unanswerable that I could have wept with relief to hear him — but I didn't know much about slave-catchers. Buck just grunted and sneered at him.

  "Oh, yeah, I know about the courts! I guess I do — I bin to court before —"

  "I'll believe that," says Lincoln.

  "Yeah? You're a mighty fancy goddam legal beanpole, ain't you though? Well, I'll tell you suthin', mister — I know about courts an' writs an' all, an' there ain't one o' them worth a lick in hell to me! I'm here — them dam' runaways is here — an' if I take 'em away nice an' quiet, we don' have to trouble with no courts nor nuthin'. An' afterwards — well, I reckon I'll answer right smart for any incon-venience caused here tonight. But I ain't bein' fobbed by smart talk — they're comin' with me!"

  And he pushed the barrel of his piece forward just a trifle.

  "You'll just take them," says Lincoln. "By force. Is that so?"

  "You bet it's so! I reckon the courts won't worry me none, neither! We'll have done justice, see?"

  I quailed to listen to him. God, I thought, we're finished; he had the force behind him. If he wanted to march in and drag us out bodily, the law would support him in the end. There would be protests, no doubt, and some local public outcry, but what good would that be to us, once they had us south of the river again? I heard Cassy moan, and I sank down, done up and despairing, beside the newell. And then Lincoln laughed, shaking his head.

  "So that's your case is it, Mr — ?"

  "Buck Robinson's my —"

  "Buck will do. That's your style, is it, Buck? Brute force and talk about it afterwards. Well, it has its logic, I suppose — but, d'ye know, Buck, I don't like it. No, sir. That's not how we do things where I come from —"

  "I don't give a damn how you do things where you come from, Mr Smart," Buck spat out. "Get out of my way."

  "I see," says Lincoln, not moving. "Well, I've put my case to you, in fair terms, and you've answered it — admirably, after your own lights. And since you won't listen to reason, and believe that might is right — well, I'll just have to talk in your terms, won't I? So —"

  "You hold your gab and stand aside, mister," shouts Buck. "Now, I'm warnin' you fair!"

  "And I'm warning you, Buck!" Lincoln's voice was suddenly sharp. "Oh, I know you, I reckon. You're a real hard-barked Kentucky boy, own brother to the small-pox, weaned on snake juice and grizzly hide, aren't you? You've killed more niggers than the dysentery, and your grandma can lick any white man in Tennessee. You talk big, step high, and do what you please, and if any 'legal beanpole' in a store suit gets in your way you'll cut him right down to size, won't you just? He's not a practical man, is he? But you are, Buck — when you've got your gang at your back! Yes, sir, you're a practical man, all right."

  Buck was mouthing at him, red-faced and furious, but Lincoln went on in the same hard voice.

  "So am I, Buck. And more — for the benefit of any shirt-tail chawbacon with a big mouth, I'm a who's-yar boy from Indiana myself, and I've put down better men than you just by spitting teeth at them.40 If you doubt it, come ahead! You want these people-you're going to take them?" He gestured towards Cassy. "All right, Buck — you try it. Just — try it."

  The rest of the world decided that Abraham Lincoln was a great orator after his speech at Gettysburg. I realised it much earlier, when I heard him laying it over that gun-carrying bearded ruffian who was breathing brimstone at him. I couldn't see Lincoln's face, but I'll never forget that big gangling body in the long coat that didn't quite fit, towering in the centre of the hall, with the big hands motionless at his sides. God knows how he had the nerve, with six armed men in front of him. But when I think back to it, and hear that hard, rasping drawl sounding in my memory, and remember the force in those eyes, I wonder how Buck had the nerve to stand up in front of him, either. He did, though, for about half a minute, glaring from Lincoln to Cassy to me and back to Lincoln again. Twice he was going to speak, and twice thought better of it; he was a brawny, violent man with a gun in his hands, but speaking objectively at a safe distance now, he has my sympathy. As a fellow bully and coward, I can say that Buck bebayed precisely as I should have done in his place. He glared and breathed hard, but that was his limit. And then through the open door came the distant sound of raised voices, and a hurrying of many feet on the road.

  "I doubt if that's the Kentucky militia," says Lincoln. "Better be going, Buck."

  Buck stood livid, still hesitating; then with a curse he swung about and stumped to the door. He turned again there, dark with passion, and pointed a shaking finger.

  "I'll be back!" says he. "Don't you doubt it, mister — I'll be back, an' I'll have the law with me! We'll see about this, by thunder! I'll get the law!"

  They clattered down the steps, Buck swearing at the others, and as the door closed and the exclamations started flying, Lincoln turned and looked down at me. His forehead was just a little damp.

  "The ancients, in their wisdom, made a great study of rhetoric," says he. "But I wonder did they ever envisage Buck Robinson? Yes, they probably did." He pursed his lips. "He's a big fellow, though — likely big fellow, he is. I — I think I'd sooner see Cicero square up to him behind the barn than me. Yes, I rather think I would." He adjusted his coat and cracked his knuckles. "And now, Mr Comber — ?"

  13

  I've been wounded several times, all of them damned painful, but you may take my word for it that a ball in the bum is the worst. By the time that ham-fisted sawbones had hauled it out I was weak and weeping, and my immediate recuperation wasn't eased by the fact that Judge Payne and Lincoln agreed that Cassy and I must be spirited out of the house without delay, in case Buck and his friends returned with an officer and a warrant. With two men to support me and my buttocks in a sling I was helped about half a mile to another establishment, where I gathered the folk were red-hot abolitionists, and put to bed face down.

  Of course I had already given a rough account of what had happened, in answer to the questions they fired at me after Buck had gone. The Judge wasn't concerned with anything but the events of the last few hours, and was full of praise for my daring and endurance, while his wife, the ugly little woman, and the other females made much of Cassy, and called her a poor dear, and clucked over her cuts and bruises. They were all stout antislavers, of course, as I'd guessed they would he, and would you believe it, while that blasted doctor was probing and muttering over my bottom, the women downstairs actually sang "Now Israel may say and that truly", with harmonium accompaniment. This to celebrate what Judge Payne called our deliverance, and the others cried "Amen", and were furious in their wrath against these vile slave-traffickers who hounded poor innocents with dogs and guns — "and she such a sweet and refined young thing — oh, my land, the pity of her poor bruised limbs." You ought to see her with a knife sometime, thinks I, or stripping for the buyers. And for me they had nothing but blessings and commiseration for my torn arse, which the Judge called an honourable scar, taken in the defence of liberty. Lincoln stood in the background, watching under his brows.

  But when they had taken us to the new house, and I had been tucked up in bed, he came along, very patient, and begged our hosts for a little time alone with me.

  "I'm afraid the good people of Portsmouth will have to do without me this evening," says he. "They might find my presence in public somewhat embarrassing. Anyway, one successful speech in a day is quite enough." So they left us, and he sat down beside the bed, with his tall hat between his feet.

  "Now, sir," says he, pointing that formidable head of his at me, "may I hear from you at some length? I last parted from a respectable British naval officer in Washington; tonight I meet a wounded fugitive running an escaped slave across the Ohio. I'm not only curious, you understand — I'm also a legislator of my country,41 a maker and guardian of its laws which, on your behalf, I suspect I have broken fairly comprehensively this night. I feel I'm entitled to an explanation. Pray begin, Mr Comber."

&n
bsp; So I did. There was no point in lying, much; I hadn't time for invention, anyway, and he would have seen through it. So from New Orleans on I told him the truth — Crixus, my escape with Randolph, what happened on the steamboat, the Mandevilles, the slave cart and Cassy, Memphis, and our eventual flight. I kept out the spicy bits, of course, and Mandeville's barbarous treatment of me I explained by pretending that Omohundro had turned up at Greystones with searchers and identified me — that was how they treated underground railroad men in the south, I said. He listened attentively, saying nothing, the bright eyes never leaving my face. When I had finished he sat silent a long while, studying. Then he said:

  "Well," and then a long pause. "That's quite a story." Another pause. "Yes, sir, that is quite a story." He coughed. "Haven't heard anything to touch it since last time I was in the Liberal Club. There's — nothing you wish to add to it — at all? No detail you may have, uh, overlooked?"

  "That is all, sir," says I wondering.

  "I see. I see. No, no, I just thought — oh, a balloon flight over Arkansas, or perhaps an encounter with pirates and alligators in the bayous of Louisiana — you know —"

  I demanded, did he not believe me?

  "On the contrary, I don't doubt it for a moment — more or less, anyway. No, I believe you, sir — my expressions of astonishment are really a tribute to you. In America, as in most other places, it's only the truth that we find hard to believe. No — it's not what you've told me, but what you haven't told me that I find downright fascinating. However, I shan't press you. I would hate to force you off the path of veracity —"

  "If you doubt me," says I stiffly, "you may ask the girl Cassy."

  "I already have, and she confirms a great part of your story. Remarkable young woman, that; she has much character." He cracked his knuckles thoughtfully. "Very beautiful, too; very beautiful. Had you noticed? Yes, I guess the Queen of Sheba must have looked something — 'black but comely', wasn't it? However — I was also going to add that your narrative of Randolph fits very well with what I read in the papers about his escape from the steamboat —"

  "His escape?"

  "Oh, yes, indeed. He turned up, in Vermont of all places, about two weeks ago, and is now in Canada, I understand. The liberal sheets were full of his exploits." He smiled. "I don't hold it against you that there was no mention of you in his very full relation. No mention of anyone, much, except George Randolph. But from all I've heard of him, that is consistent. Extraordinary fellow, he must be. He should be grateful to you, though — up to a point, at least."

  "I doubt it," says I.

  "Is that so? Well, well, I've no doubt you've noticed that even when gratitude costs nothing, folks are often reluctant to show it. They'll even pay hard money to avoid giving it where it's due. Strange, but human, I suppose." He was silent a moment. "You're sure there's nothing further you wish to tell me, Mr Comber?"

  "Why, no, sir," says I. "I can think of nothing —"

  "I doubt that very much," says he, drily. "I really and truly do — you've never seen the day when you couldn't think of something. But do you know what I think, Mr Comber — speaking plain, as man to man? I look at you, fine bluff British figurehead, well-spoken, easy, frank, splendid whiskers — and I can't help remembering the story they tell in Illinois about the honest Southern gentleman — you ever hear that one?" I said I hadn't.

  "Well, what they say about the honest Southern gentleman — he never stole the Mississippi river. No, don't take any offence. It's as I said in Washington — I don't know about you, except what my slight knowledge of humanity tells me, which is that you're a rascal. But again, I don't know. The trouble with people like you — and me, I guess — is that nobody ever finds us out. Just as well, maybe. But it lays a burden on us — we don't meet with regular punishments and penalties for our misdeeds, which will make it all the harder for us to achieve salvation in the long run." He frowned at the carpet. "Anyway, I'm a lawyer, not a judge.! don't really believe that I want to know all about you. It's enough for me that you brought that girl across the Ohio river today. I don't know why, for what reason, or out of what strange chance. It's sufficient that she's here, and will never wear chains again."

  Well, since that was what counted most with him, I was all for it; his talk about suspecting me for a rascal had been downright unnerving. It seemed a good time to butter him a bit.

  "Sir," says I eagerly, "all my efforts on that poor unfortunate girl's behalf, the hardships of the flight, the desperate stratagems to which I was forced, the wound taken in her defence — wound, did I say? Scratch, rather — why, all these things would have been without avail had you not championed us in our hour of direst need. That, sir, was the act of a Christian hero, of a sublime spirit, if I may say so."

  He stood looking at me, with his head cocked on one side.

  "I must have been mad," says he. "Mind you, I quite enjoyed it there, for a moment —" he laughed uncertainly — "at least, now that it's over, I think I did. Do you realise what I allowed myself to do? You, sir, are in a way to being as highly successful a slave stealer as ever I heard of — at least, Arnold Fitzroy Prescott or whatever his name is — he's one. He's also an accessory to two murders — that's what they'd call it, although I'd say it was moral self-defence, myself. But a Southern jury certainly wouldn't agree. In the eyes of the law you're a deep-dyed criminal, Mr Comber — and I, the junior Congressman from Illinois, a pillar of the community, a trusted legislator, a former holder of the United States commission, a God-fearing, respected citizen — it's all there in my election address, and the people believed it, so it must be true — I allowed myself, in a moment of derangement, moved by pity for that girl Cassy's distress — I allowed myself, sir, to aid and abet you. God knows what the penalty is in Ohio for harbouring runaway slaves, assisting slave-stealers, resisting a warranted slave-catcher, and offering to disturb the peace by assault and battery, but whatever it is, I'm not in a hurry to answer for it, I can tell you."

  He scratched his head ruefully and began to fidget about the room, twitching at the curtains and tapping the furniture with his foot, his head sunk on his chest.

  "Not that I regret it, you understand. I'ld do it again, and again, and again, in spite of the law. Fine thing for a lawyer — humph! But there's a higher thing than the law, and it belongs in the conscience, and it says that evils such as slavery must be fought until the dragon is dead. And in that cause I hope I'll never stand back." He stopped, frowning. "Also, if there's one thing can get my dander good and high, it's a big mouthed Kentuckian hill rooster with his belly over his britches and a sass-me-and-see-what-happens look in his eye. Yes, sir, big-chested bravos like our friend Buck Robinson seem to bring out the worst in me. Still — I don't imagine we'll hear much more from his direction, and if we do, Judge Payne is fortunately a man of considerable influence — or Mrs Payne is, I'm never sure which — and by the time the good judge has come out from under the bedclothes and scrambled into his dignity again, I don't think I'll have much to fret over. Anyway, I can look after myself and lose no sleep. But you, Mr Comber, would be better a long way from here, and as quickly as may he."

  Now he was talking most excellent sense; I twisted round from my prone position to cry agreement, and gave my backside a nasty twinge.

  "Indeed, sir," says I. "The sooner I can reach England —"

  "I wasn't thinking of quite so far as that; not just yet awhile. I know you're all on fire to get home, which is why you say you slipped away in New Orleans in the first place. Pity you allowed yourself to be … uh … distracted along the way. However, since you did, and have broken federal laws in the process, it puts a different complexion on things. For me, you could go home now, but it's not that simple. The way I see it, my government — my country — needs you; they still want you down in New Orleans to give evidence against the crew of — the BaIlioI College, wasn't it? Your testimony, as I understand it, can put those gentlemen where they belong —"

  "But,
Mr Lincoln, there is evidence enough against them without me," I cried, all a-sweat again.

  "Well, perhaps there may be, but a little more won't hurt, if it makes certain of them. After all, that was why you sailed with them, why you risked your hide as an agent, wasn't it?" He was smiling down at me. "To bring them to book, to strike another blow against the slave trade?"

  "Oh, of course, to be sure, but … well … er …"

  "You're perhaps reluctant to go back to New Orleans because you feel it may be unsafe for you, after … recent events?."

  "Exactly! You're absolutely right, sir …"

  "Have no fear of that," says he. "No one is going to connect the eminently respectable Lieutenant Comber, R.N., with all those goings on far away up the river. That was the work of some scoundrel called Arnold FitzPrescott or Prescott FitzArnold or someone. And if anyone did connect them, I can assure you there would be no lack of influence working on your behalf to keep you out of trouble — there are enough sympathetic ears in high places in the federal government to see to that at need. Provided, of course, that you are doing your duty by that same government — and, incidentally, by your own."

  By George, this was desperate; I had to talk him out of it somehow, without raising more suspicions of me than he had already.

  "Even so, Mr Lincoln, I'm sure it would be best if I could proceed home directly. The case against the Balliol College can surely be proved without my help."

  "Well, I daresay, but that's not the point any longer. This is quite a delicate situation, you know. See here: I've stood up for you tonight — and for that girl — helped you both to break my country's laws, and broken 'em myself, in a just, fine cause which I believe to be in my country's true interest. And if it ever got out — which I pray to the Lord it won't — there is enough antislavery sentiment in our federal government to ensure that it would all be winked at, and no more said. But they're not going to wink if I, a Congressman, help a witness in an important case to avoid his duty. That's why I'm bound to send you back to Orleans. Believe me, you have nothing to fear there — you can say your piece in the witness box, and then go home as fast as my distant influence and that of grateful friends will send you."