Point of No Return

by Paul McCusker

  “And?”

  I thought again. “The marks on their wings…”

  “Very good. And what else?”

  My mind was blank, so I guessed. “The color of their beaks?”

  Uncle Andrew shook his head. “I suppose the shape of their beaks might be helpful, even the color. But you guessed the wrong end. The correct answer is: the marks on their outer tail feathers.”

  I frowned. “Oh, yeah.”

  We reached the edge of some woods and Uncle Andrew stopped. He pointed to a cavity in a nearby tree. “There.”

  I looked up but didn’t see what he was pointing at.

  “See? The Eastern Bluebird.”

  My eyes finally fixed on a bright-blue bird with an orangey chest sitting on a branch. Another bird just like it flew in from the field and landed on the branch. The high-pitched chirps from the tree said that it was a mom and dad watching over a nest.

  “Do you want to draw them?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve sketched some of them from a previous trip. But I wanted you to see them for yourself. That way, if anyone asks, you can say what kind of bird you saw and give a reasonable description.”

  “Eastern Bluebird,” I repeated.

  “Come along,” he said and continued into the woods.

  “Where are we going?”

  Uncle Andrew spoke softly. “These woods circle Mason’s plantation. I want to stroll around the perimeter, then ‘accidentally’ come upon the fields where the slaves will be working. Lord willing, I’ll have a chance to talk to them.”

  We walked through the woods and every once in a while Uncle Andrew would stop to sketch on his pad, or he’d point out different birds to me. Eventually we got to the edge of a field. In the distance, we could see a group of slaves clearing the field. An overseer sat nearby and barked orders at them.

  “Set up my easel here,” Uncle Andrew said. “I’ll go have a word with the overseer, so he won’t chase us off.”

  I nodded and started to unpack the bag while he strode across the field in large steps. I had just set up the wooden legs of the easel when I heard the clanging of several bells. At first I thought it might be the cook signaling everyone that it was time for lunch and didn’t pay attention. But the clanging came closer and closer, so I looked up. Three slaves were carrying a huge log away from the field and toward the woods. Two of the slaves looked the way the slaves normally looked, but the third had something on his head that looked like a large helmet. As they walked past with the log, I got a better look and noticed that the thing wasn’t a helmet as much as a kind of cage. It had a circle of iron around the top of the slave’s head, with several rods fixed to it that stretched down to another circle of iron that fit around the slave’s neck. It was fastened shut by a large padlock at the throat. There were big bells hanging from the rods that knocked around to make the clanging I heard.

  I know my mouth fell open. The cage-helmet looked incredibly heavy, and I couldn’t imagine how the slave was able to walk at all, let alone carry a log. The slave turned to me as they walked by and I recognized him right away. It was Clarence, Eveline’s father!

  I wanted to shout, but Uncle Andrew’s hand was on my shoulder. “I know,” he said quietly. “Don’t do anything that will draw attention to our knowledge.”

  I got busy with the easel again. “What was that thing on his head?”

  “It’s a way to punish slaves who’ve run away. They have to wear them day and night.”

  “It looks awful.”

  Uncle Andrew nodded. “It’s worse than awful. With one of those contraptions on your head, you can barely stoop to work without straining all the muscles in your neck and shoulders. You can’t put your head down to sleep; you have to crouch all night. But it serves its purpose. You can’t run away without everyone hearing you.” Uncle Andrew rubbed at his face, and I realized he was trying to get rid of the tears in his eyes.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “It’s imperative we don’t let on that we know Clarence.”

  “Okay.”

  Uncle Andrew rubbed his chin. “I think I have an idea.”

  Clarence and the two slaves threw the log into the woods, then came past us again. Uncle Andrew called out as he ran to them. The slaves looked stricken that this strange white man would approach like that. If Clarence recognized Uncle Andrew, he didn’t let on.

  “Pardon me,” Uncle Andrew said, “but I’m doing some research on birds in this area.”

  The slaves shuffled their feet and looked anxiously toward the overseer, who now stood up and watched the scene from across the field.

  “I believe one of you is named Clarence.”

  Clarence spoke reluctantly. “That’s me, sir.”

  “I’ve been told that that you know a thing or two about birds. Is that true?”

  “Well, sir…” Clarence spoke slowly as if he wasn’t sure what the right answer was. “I know a thing or two about birds. Yes, sir.”

  “Hey!” the overseer shouted as he came closer.

  “I may need some help with my research,” Uncle Andrew said to Clarence.

  The overseer was only a few yards away. “What’s going on here? You three—get back to work!”

  “Yes, sir,” the slaves said and rushed away. Clarence staggered behind with the bells on his helmet ringing and clanging.

  “You can look at birds all you want, but stay away from the slaves,” the overseer said. “Distracts them from their work.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. It wasn’t my intention to stir up trouble. But I’d like to talk to Mr. Mason about the one in the helmet.”

  “Why? What’d he do wrong?”

  “Not a thing. I believe he may be of some assistance to us.”

  “Not that one. You can believe me.”

  “Jack, pack up our things. Let’s go to the mansion and have a word with Mr. Mason.”

  The servant showed us in to the study, where Mr. Mason was seated at the desk. He rose to greet us. “How was the bird-watching today?” he asked.

  “Slightly disappointing,” Uncle Andrew answered. “We’re having trouble tracking the little devils.”

  “I was certain that a man of your expertise would have no trouble finding the birds he wanted.”

  Uncle Andrew bowed modestly. “You esteem me too highly. I’m a rank amateur. However, there is someone in your service who may be of great help to me.”

  “Is there? Who?”

  “One of your slaves.”

  “I’m astounded,” Mr. Mason said. “I’m not aware that any of my slaves would have a special knowledge of birds.”

  “It’s obviously a knowledge from experience, rather than books—of working the land and knowing the birds of the area as a result.”

  Mr. Mason shrugged. “Well, sir, if you want to borrow one of my slaves for a day’s expedition, I don’t mind. Which one is he?”

  “The one with the unusual contraption on his head,” Uncle Andrew said.

  “Contraption?”

  Uncle Andrew explained, “It looked like a cage with bells on it. Makes an infernal noise, I confess.”

  Mr. Mason thought for a moment, then realized whom Uncle Andrew meant. “You’re talking about one of my new slaves. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not sure it would be prudent to let him wander the countryside with you.”

  “I agree, sir,” Uncle Andrew said carefully. “Particularly with that commotion on his head. I don’t think the birds would stay still with him banging and clamoring like he does.”

  Mr. Mason frowned. “Do you know why that boy is wearing that hat with the bells? It’s because he runs away. I bought him from Ramsay because Ramsay was tired of dealing with him. I apologize, but if I take off the helmet, there’ll be no stopping him from running away again.”

  “What if I were to promise that he wouldn’t? What if I took full responsibility for him while he’s with me?” Uncle Andrew locked his gaze on Mason and waited patiently for an answer.
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  Mr. Mason thought about it for a few minutes, then shook his head. “I don’t believe that would be a good idea. Not without the helmet.”

  “Perhaps we could take him with the helmet and the key to the padlock. If the bells scare off the birds, we can remove the helmet. If not, we’ll leave it on.”

  It was a reasonable offer Mr. Mason couldn’t refuse without looking like he didn’t trust us. “If you’ll take responsibility for him and use discretion in your choice, then how can I protest? When would you like to take him?”

  “Tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”

  Later, as we walked to the carriage, I had to ask Uncle Andrew: “Does Clarence really know about birds, or did you make it up?”

  Uncle Andrew didn’t smile, but there was laughter in his voice. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. I suspect he knows as much about birds as you do.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jack tells about a plan.

  “I DON’T LIKE IT. I don’t like it one bit,” the overseer—a man named Hickocks—complained as he gave us the key to Clarence’s padlock.

  “You worry too much,” Mr. Mason said.

  “You pay me to worry too much,” Hickocks replied gruffly. “This buck’ll run the first chance he gets.”

  “And I’ll take responsibility for it if he does,” Uncle Andrew said. “Unless you don’t consider me a man of my word.”

  It was a challenge and Hickocks seemed to know it. With muttered curses he turned and walked off to a group of slaves who were waiting for him. “What are you standing around for, you good-for-nothings!” he shouted at them. He gestured for Clarence to join us.

  “Hickocks is a little protective of our property,” Mr. Mason said apologetically.

  At the word property I looked hard at Mr. Mason. I wanted to say, “What do you mean by calling them property? They’re not your property. They don’t belong to anybody. And you have no right to think so.” The words were right on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back.

  Clarence walked up to us with the bells on his hat banging away.

  “Our guest seems to think you know a thing or two about birds,” Mr. Mason told him.

  Clarence wouldn’t look Mr. Mason in the eye, but gave him a slight nod. “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Mason held up a finger. “I’m entrusting you to Mr. Jamison. If you try to run away, not only will I be sorely put out, but so will Mr. Jamison. Between the two of us, I reckon we’ll catch you and hang you in a most painful way. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good bird-hunting, then,” Mr. Mason said.

  We thanked him for his kindness and strolled with Clarence across the field and into the nearest patch of woods. Clarence did his best to keep his head still so the bells wouldn’t clang, but it was no use. It sounded like a herd of cows with bells around their necks was on a stampede.

  “We’ll have to walk far enough away so they can’t hear the bells,” Uncle Andrew said.

  Mr. Mason owned a lot of land, so we made it pretty far before Uncle Andrew stopped and faced Clarence directly. “We’ll never find any birds like this,” he said.

  “Are we really looking for birds, sir?” Clarence asked.

  “Only the kind to set free,” Uncle Andrew replied, then produced the key to the helmet. “Is it safe?”

  “We should be clear from the farm,” Clarence said.

  “I’ve been watching behind us to make sure no one was following,” I said, proud of myself for thinking to do it.

  “Good lad,” Uncle Andrew said, then grabbed the padlock at the base of the helmet. “Let’s get that thing off your head.”

  “Are you sure, sir? I mean, this whole thing seems risky to me,” Clarence said, with a worried sound in his voice.

  Uncle Andrew nodded. “I’m sure.”

  The lock was a little rusty, and it took a minute or two to get the key moving inside of it. I was afraid that Hickocks gave us the wrong key. (I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that.) Finally, something clicked and the lock came loose. We helped Clarence take the helmet off. Clarence immediately moved his head to the left, then to the right, then rolled it around and around on his shoulders. Each movement made him groan with pain.

  With a victorious shout, Uncle Andrew and I threw the helmet into a pile of leaves.

  “Cover it up, Jack,” Uncle Andrew said.

  I grabbed leaves and started to bury the ugly thing.

  “What are you doing? I have to take it back!” Clarence said.

  Uncle Andrew brushed his hands off. “I promised to bring you back, not that inhumane piece of iron.”

  Clarence reached out to Uncle Andrew. “Look, Reverend, forget about me. But I beg you to go to Colonel Ross’s house and get my little girl. That’s where she is. Your friend, too. It’s only six miles away. Jake told me—he goes there on errands. He saw them with his own eyes.”

  “I won’t forget about you, Clarence,” Uncle Andrew said firmly. “If all goes according to plan, tomorrow night we’ll all leave together.”

  “Tomorrow night? But how?”

  “Yeah—goes according to what plan?” I asked.

  Uncle Andrew smiled. “The plan I’m making up as we go along.”

  “Oh, Lord have mercy,” Clarence said.

  “I’m quite in earnest, Clarence. Without that helmet, do you think you can escape tomorrow night?”

  Clarence gave the question some thought and then nodded his head. “If they don’t put me in another helmet, I think I know a way out.”

  “Then we’ll pray they won’t have another helmet to put you in. One way or another, we’ll know when we go back,” Uncle Andrew said. “Now, let’s go look at some birds.”

  We walked through the woods and fields of Mr. Mason’s land, and I was surprised to find that Clarence really did know a lot about the birds we found. He even taught Uncle Andrew a couple of things. I tried to take notes about the birds so I could answer intelligently if anyone asked me. Eventually, I gave up. Once we got beyond blackbirds, sparrows, and mockingbirds, the names got too hard. They were called things like phoebe and nuthatch and waxwing and titmouse. Even now I’m not sure I’m getting them right.

  When it was time to go back to the plantation, Uncle Andrew reminded Clarence about running away the next night, then said: “Whatever happens, let’s decide now that our rendezvous point will be north—at the Hollow Tree by Griffith’s Creek. A friend told me about it. It’s about 20 miles. Do you know where that is?”

  “I reckon if I head north along Griffith’s Creek, I’ll find it,” Clarence answered.

  “Good man. So, by the grace of God, we’ll be on our way within the next 48 hours. Can you hold on until then?”

  Clarence said, “I’ll try. I’ve waited this long. I think I can wait another 48 hours. Just so you promise we won’t go without my little girl. ’Cause I won’t.”

  “I promise.”

  Clarence suddenly stopped and grabbed Uncle Andrew’s hand. “Thank you, sir,” he said with tears in his eyes.

  Uncle Andrew gazed into his face, then simply said, “You’re welcome.”

  Back at the plantation, Hickocks started sputtering and went red-faced with the news that we didn’t have the helmet. “You said you lost it?”

  “Yes,” Uncle Andrew answered. “I’m so sorry. It was scaring the birds, so we took it off in the woods and moved on. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember where we put it. Neither could Jack or your slave.”

  Hickocks took a deep breath as he looked at us warily. “I have no doubt that they couldn’t! The Master’ll be upset.”

  “I’ll be happy to make full restitution for the item,” Uncle Andrew said.

  Hickocks glared at him. “Full restitution? You think you can just walk into a store and buy one of those things? I made it myself. It was the only one we have.”

  I was relieved to hear the news. That would make our escape plan a little easier.<
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  “Please, just name the price and I’ll pay it,” Uncle Andrew said in a voice that was full of mock regret.

  “It’s not for me to say,” Hickocks snapped. “Take it up with Mr. Mason.”

  “I will. Wait here, Jack.” Uncle Andrew strolled off toward the house.

  Hickocks eyed me, then Clarence. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.”

  “Up to, sir?” I asked.

  “I won’t be made a fool,” he said, then looked steely-eyed at Clarence. “Listen to me, boy. If you run away again, you better make sure you’re never found—’cause I’ll kill you if I catch you. You hear me? I’ll kill you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Clarence said.

  It scared me to hear Hickocks talk like that and I was glad to hear Uncle Andrew and Mr. Mason return. Uncle Andrew must’ve charmed Mr. Mason again, because Mr. Mason didn’t seem bothered about losing the helmet and insisted that his driver take us back to town.

  At the carriage, Uncle Andrew told Mr. Mason that this was good-bye.

  Mr. Mason was surprised. “I’m sorry to see you go so soon,” he said sincerely.

  “We won’t be too far away,” Uncle Andrew replied. “I want to go to Colonel Ross’s plantation first thing in the morning. I was told that he has several species of woodpeckers on his property.”

  “Does he? How unusual. Several species? How marvelous for him. I never heard that.”

  “Perhaps I’ve got it wrong, but it will be worth investigating.”

  They shook hands, and then Mr. Mason signaled the driver to go. I glanced back and it looked as if Mr. Mason was still pondering how Colonel Ross was lucky enough to have so many woodpeckers to look at.

  I quietly asked Uncle Andrew about the lies he kept telling.

  He looked at me as if I’d shocked him. “Lies?” he replied.

  “You said you heard that Colonel Ross has woodpeckers. You didn’t really hear that, did you?”

  “I said I might have heard wrong,” he explained.

  “You know what I mean,” I persisted. “You also said we lost the helmet. Isn’t it wrong to lie like that?”