This Strange New Feeling

by Julius Lester

  A man sitting a few chairs away came over and said mildly, “Come, come, my good fellow. Don’t speak in such a way to a gentleman.”

  “And why not?” the thin man shouted, his tiny eyes bulging. “It makes me itch all over, from head to toe, to get hold of every nigger I see dressed like a white man. That nigger ought to be sold to New Orleans and have the Devil whipped out of him.”

  Ellen rose quickly but calmly. “Please excuse me, gentlemen.” She walked to her cabin, where she fell across the bed, her body trembling, as she bit her lip to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape from her body.

  There was a knock on the cabin door. She sat up, but was afraid to know who was on the other side.

  The knock came again. “Master?”

  “Oh, thank God!” she sobbed, hurrying to unlock the door and admit William. “Thank God!” she repeated, clinging to him.

  “It’s almost over,” William said softly. “It’s almost over.”

  When the boat docked at Washington, they transferred quickly to the train for Baltimore, the last major slave port before they would enter the North.

  It was night when the train arrived in Baltimore. The station was crowded with people arriving and leaving, carrying baskets with brightly wrapped presents.

  It’s Christmas Eve, William remembered, but he did not pause to look at the large Christmas tree in the station, its boughs holding tiny lighted candles. He knew that Ellen would not endure much longer, and he could feel her body trembling as he guided her through the station and onto the train for Philadelphia. There were too many people around to risk whispering to her, but he squeezed her upper arm tightly as he helped her to a seat.

  As he came off the train and made his way to the Negro car, a white-haired man in a gold-braided uniform stopped him. “Where are you going, boy?” he asked sternly.

  “Philadelphia with my master, sir,” William replied, the quiet calm in his voice hiding the rising fear that something was wrong.

  “Where is your master?”

  “In the carriage I just left, sir.” William smiled.

  “You’d better get him out,” the stationmaster said firmly. “And be quick about it! No man can take a slave past Baltimore unless he can prove that he has the right to take him along. Get him off now and bring him to my office.”

  William watched the stationmaster walk into the terminal. He didn’t know what to do. He had never overheard any slave owner in Macon speak of needing proof of slave ownership to go from the South to the North. Maybe he should quietly disappear now. Ellen would be free, at least, and he would take his chances of finding his own way.

  But if he just disappeared, Ellen would never know what had happened to him. He couldn’t do that to her. Slowly he stepped back onto the train and saw Ellen sitting alone at the far end of the coach. She looked up and smiled when she saw him. He managed a weak smile, wondering how he was going to tell her.

  “How are you feeling?” he whispered, leaning over the seat.

  “Much better.” Her smile was radiant. “We did it, William.”

  “Not quite,” he said solemnly. Quickly he told her what had happened.

  “No!” Ellen exclaimed loudly, then lowered her voice. “No, no, no!”

  William feared she was going to dissolve into uncontrollable sobbing as she kept repeating, “No, no, no! No, William! No!”

  They were less than twelve hours from Philadelphia and freedom. They couldn’t have come so close to be stopped now. Could they?

  William grasped her hand. “Let’s go,” he said gently.

  “Go where?” Ellen demanded to know. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s go to the office.”

  She gripped his hand fiercely. “You aren’t going to trick me, are you, and run off or do something foolish? I don’t want freedom without you, William Craft.”

  “No. Let’s go to the office. We’ve come this far. I just can’t believe that we are not meant to go all the way.”

  The stationmaster’s office was crowded with travelers exchanging holiday greetings with the white-haired man seated behind the large desk at the end of the room. Ellen noticed the bottle of liquor on the edge of the desk, and the glasses of amber-colored liquid in the hands of the dozen or so men jammed into the tiny room. She noticed, too, that the sounds of joviality diminished as she and William made their way through the crowd. There was only silence when she and William stopped before the stationmaster.

  “Did you wish to see me, sir?” she asked, her voice tiny and barely audible in her ears.

  “Yes, I did,” the stationmaster said. “It is against the rules of this railroad, sir, to allow any person to take a slave out of Baltimore and into Philadelphia unless he can satisfy us that he has a right to take him along.”

  Ellen looked at the stationmaster, at the white hair and pale blue eyes that looked at her kindly. He was just an old man doing his job, anxious for the train to leave so he could get home to spend Christmas Eve with his family. There wouldn’t be any problem, she was sure.

  “And why is that, sir?” she asked, her voice strong now. “Isn’t the word of a white gentleman worth anything in Baltimore?” she asked indignantly.

  The pale soft eyes of the stationmaster hardened so quickly that Ellen was startled, and when he spoke, his voice was so cold, Ellen could feel the warmth leaving her body. She had made a mistake, a fatal one.

  “Sir, a gentleman would not question the rules of this railroad or the laws of this great city. But if you are so dense that you don’t understand, let me explain. If we allowed any gentleman to take a slave past here into Philadelphia, and should the gentleman not be that slave’s rightful owner, and should the lawful owner come prove that his slave escaped on our railroad, the railroad would have to pay that man what he said his slave was worth. And that money would come out of my pocket! Now do you understand?” he asked with sarcastic finality.

  Ellen felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her. Suddenly there was the sound of a chuckle.

  “Now, now, Arnold,” someone said to the stationmaster. “That’s not the proper Christmas spirit, is it?”

  “Hear, hear,” came another voice. “Arnold, you can plainly see the state of the gentleman’s health. A gentleman in his condition needs his faithful servant.”

  “Furthermore,” came a third voice, “you don’t really think a nigger would try to run away by riding the train, do you?”

  Everyone laughed at such a ridiculous idea.

  “All I know,” countered the stationmaster, “is that if a nigger escapes on one of my trains, the railroad will hold me responsible. A nigger like that one there probably goes for a thousand dollars. And that’s a thousand dollars I don’t have.”

  It was an argument none of the men could refute.

  “Sir,” one of the men said, addressing Ellen, “isn’t there someone in Baltimore who can vouch for you and your slave?”

  “No. I am a stranger passing through to seek medical treatment in Philadelphia.” Ellen looked at the stationmaster, who was pouring himself another drink. “Sir, I bought tickets in Charleston to pass us through to Philadelphia. Therefore you have no right to detain me here. None whatsoever!”

  The words were not out of her mouth before she knew she had made another mistake. But she hadn’t gotten this close to be stopped! The man had to be made to change his mind.

  The stationmaster leaped up from behind the desk. “Right or no right!” he shouted. “I will not let you pass!” His face flushed red, and his arm trembled as he pointed at her and shouted even louder, “I will not let you pass!”

  Everyone in the room seemed frozen. No one moved or spoke or even dared breathe, it seemed. Ellen knew that she was supposed to turn and walk out. She would have had she been able to. But she couldn’t move. To turn and walk out was the end.

  So she stood and stared at the stationmaster. He stared back. Leave, she told herself. Leave. There might be another way
to Philadelphia. Maybe William was right. She could go ahead and, once in Philadelphia, find some means to locate him and help him escape.

  If she didn’t walk out soon, the stationmaster would summon the police to eject her and maybe arrest her even. And that would be the worst thing that could happen. Leave!

  But she could not move. The only sound in the room was the tick-tick of the pendulum of the tall clock behind the stationmaster’s desk.

  The door of the office opened. Certain that the police had been summoned somehow, Ellen turned. But she had scarcely moved before she noticed that it was only the conductor who’d been on the train from Washington to Baltimore.

  He sauntered in, laughing when he saw the bottle sitting on the stationmaster’s desk. “Just the thing I was looking for, Arnold,” he said brightly.

  “Did these two ride in with you from Washington?” the stationmaster asked abruptly, pointing to Ellen and William.

  Someone handed the conductor an empty glass and he poured himself a drink. He turned and looked at Ellen and William.

  “Those two?” he asked, swallowing the drink quickly. He chuckled and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now, that’ll keep me warm for a while.” He set the glass on the desk and, nodding at Ellen and William, said, “Come in from Washington same as I did. Come all the way from Macon, Georgia, believe he said. Going to Philadelphia to see some doctor up there.”

  Just then the bell rang, announcing that it was time for the train to leave. “Well, time for me to go to work,” the conductor said. “Merry Christmas, everyone!”

  “Merry Christmas,” various ones called out, their minds not on Christmas at that moment but the scene in the office.

  As the conductor left, the stationmaster threw up his arms and let them fall to his sides.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said, his voice soft now. He looked at Ellen and shrugged. “I suppose it is all right. Since you are not well, it would be a pity to stop you here.”

  A great cheer went up in the room. “That’s the spirit, Arnold!” “I knew you were a good man!”

  Quickly the office emptied as the men hurried to board the train, many patting Ellen on the shoulder and back as they left.

  “You better hurry,” the stationmaster said to Ellen. “That train isn’t going to wait for you.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ellen said warmly. “You’ll never know how deeply grateful I am.”

  Ellen was the center of much attention on the train. She didn’t know how she managed to smile, laugh, and make conversation. She was empty now, so drained by the terror of the four days minus twelve hours, that she feared she might laugh at some harmless remark and, unable to stop, her laughter would tumble over and down into hysterical sobbing.

  “You look a little pale,” someone observed.

  “I am somewhat weary.”

  “Well, we’ll let you rest now.”

  “You’re very thoughtful.”

  Ellen went almost immediately into a sound sleep and was startled when she heard a voice saying, “Wake up. Wake up.”

  “What is it?” she asked too loudly, afraid that the stationmaster had changed his mind and she was being ordered off the train.

  “You have to get off, sir.”

  She looked into the conductor’s face, panic threatening her sanity. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no,” the conductor said. “We’re at Havre de Grace. We have to ferry across the Susquehanna River. For the safety of the passengers, we ask them to ride on the ferry itself rather than remain in the coaches.”

  It was dark and cold when she stepped outside. A fine mist was falling, which chilled her quickly. She looked around for William, who always came to her whenever the train stopped. Ellen had never needed him as she did now, as the ferry moved into the cold, misty blackness of the river.

  This wasn’t like him. Where was he? She could make out the passengers in the light from the lanterns hanging along the ferry railing. He wasn’t there! William was not there! He had been caught! She knew it!

  She hurried around the ferry until she found the conductor. “Have you seen my servant, sir?”

  The conductor chuckled. “Oh, he’s probably run off and is in Philadelphia by now.”

  Ellen ignored his remark. “Could you find him for me?” she commanded.

  The conductor was indignant. “I’m no slave hunter! If I had my way, every slave in the South would go free tomorrow. You’ll get no help or sympathy from me!”

  When the ferry stopped on the other side of the river, Ellen had not found William. She wondered if she should board the train or stay and see if she could learn what had happened to him.

  She knew, however, that if he had been captured, his only solace would be knowing she was free. Reluctantly she got on the train. She was grateful for the darkness that hid the tears flowing down her face.

  She didn’t know that she had fallen asleep or how long she had been asleep when a voice awakened her. “Master?”

  Her eyes opened quickly to see William bending over her. “Oh, William!” she exclaimed in a hushed whisper. “Where were you? I thought you—”

  He put a finger to her lips to silence her, then smiled sheepishly. “I fell asleep. The conductor didn’t bother to wake me when we came to the ferry. I woke up a few minutes ago and he told me that he’d told you I’d run away.”

  Tears flowed down her face again, but these were of relief. In the darkness she found his hand and squeezed it so tightly that he winced.

  “It won’t be long now,” he told her.

  When he returned to the Negro car, the conductor came in, chuckling. “Your master feel better now?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, let me give you some advice, boy. When you get to Philadelphia, run away and leave that cripple and have your freedom.”

  “No, sir,” William said indifferently. “I can’t do that, sir.”

  “Why not?” the conductor wanted to know, surprised. “Don’t you want to be free?”

  “Massa good to nigger, sir. Massa good massa, him.”

  The conductor was outraged. “Well, of all the dumb things I’ve heard in my life,” he said before storming out of the car.

  William was sorry he could not tell the conductor the truth. He seemed like a good man, but one could never tell.

  “That was good advice he gave you,” William heard a voice say.

  He looked around to see a black man seated across the aisle.

  “Oh?” William said noncommittally, hiding his eagerness to talk to this well-dressed black, who by the erect way he sat showed that he had never lived a day in slavery. “I be better off with massa than free nigger any day,” William said, hoping the man would take the bait.

  The free black needed to hear no more to begin telling William about the black churches, fraternal organizations, businesses, and social life among the blacks of Philadelphia. “Why, there are blacks and whites eager to help someone like yourself escape from slavery.” He told William the name and address of a white man who had helped many runaway slaves.

  William listened intently, remembering everything he heard. When the man finished, his face eagerly awaiting William’s response, William said, “Massa, he good massa to nigger. Me and massa grow up like brothers, me and massa did.”

  The free black got up in disgust. “You’ve got as much sense as a brick.” He moved to the other end of the coach to be as far away from William as possible.

  William regretted that the man would never know the truth, nor how helpful he had been. But they were too close to take any unnecessary risks.

  William drifted off to sleep, repeating the name and address of the white man over and over.

  When the shrill whistle of the train awakened him, William opened his eyes and there, through the window, at the beginning of a day as gray as pewter, he saw the buildings of a large city. Philadelphia!

  The train had scarcely slowed to a stop before he was out of
the coach and hurrying to Ellen. Quickly they found a carriage and were being taken through the streets of the still city.

  William put his arms around Ellen, and she began to cry. It was over, and she could cry now. Her body heaved with the force of the tears, as if the demons of fear and doubt were being torn from her body. She cried and William held her as if she were a child.

  When the carriage stopped at the address, Ellen was so weak that William lifted her from the carriage. Through her tears she smiled, the green spectacles on her nose looking ridiculous now.

  “Merry Christmas, husband,” she said, feeling light in his arms, her arms around his neck.

  Then she took the spectacles from her nose and tossed them high into the air. “Merry Christmas!” she shouted. “Merry Christmas, everybody!”

  And she did not know her laughter from her crying, and the tears on her face shone like a smile.

  Two

  I

  Almost two years had passed.

  Was that a long time? Ellen wondered. On evenings like this, when she sat in her rocking chair, gazing at the flames curling around the logs in the fireplace, slavery seemed like the smoke being drawn up the chimney.

  Then she would glance at William in his rocking chair, his head bowed almost prayerfully, reading a book. The sight of him slowly deciphering the words was still so new that the two years became a moment, and she wanted to touch him to be sure that she was not dreaming him, this house, and herself. Especially herself.

  “William?” she said softly.

  “Hm?”

  “Do you ever miss Macon?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, and it was as if a great physical effort was required to bring himself back from wherever the book had taken him. But when he turned and looked at her, he was smiling. “Only on nights like tonight.”

  “What do you mean?” Ellen asked, concerned.