Treasure in a Tin Box (Wall of Silence Book 1)

by Dorey Whittaker

  Ms. Victoria stayed to her room most of the time. Not even her grandchild could get a rise out of her. Many a day, she would call for Momma and ask her to sit with her in her bedroom, and she would talk about their time as children together. Of course, her memories were quite different from those of our Momma’s, but talking about those days brought comfort to her, so Momma smiled and nodded, “Yes,” to all of Ms. Victoria’s questions.

  Once or twice, we were awakened to Ms. Victoria’s wandering around in the kitchen. Momma would talk gently to her and get her back to bed, but we all knew she was beginning to lose her proper mind. She always recognized Momma, but at times, she did not even recognize her own daughter. Fearing she might do something awful like setting the house on fire, Momma took the mat off one of the beds upstairs and would place it in front of the bedroom door and sleep there. At least everyone else in the house would finally get some sleep.

  Late in the fall of 1863, Ms. Elizabeth got word that her father had been injured and was recuperating in a field hospital somewhere in South Carolina. Knowing her momma would not survive this news, she ordered all of us to keep quiet. Two months later, she got word that her own husband had been wounded and had lost a leg, but he would survive if they could keep infection from taking over. She did not handle this news well at all. Ruby tried to keep the children out of the house so they would not hear their mother’s screaming tantrums about having a one-legged husband. She was not yet twenty-five, and she felt her life was now over. None of us heard a word from her about how her poor husband must be feeling; it was all about her and how the children needed to be spared. Hopefully, as time passed, maybe she would come to her senses and curb her tongue in front of her children.

  By the spring of 1864, the war had been going on for three long years. Everyone was getting tired of meatless stew, no butter, no bread, no coffee; it had been a long three years. We began hearing from people who were traveling the road that Sherman’s Army was heading for Atlanta, and the soldiers were burning everything in their path. Black, white, young and old—no one was safe. At this precarious time, Brother Samuel came up with his plan.

  One night Samuel woke Sissy and me in the middle of the night. I opened our window and Samuel said, “Don’t wake up Momma. Get dressed and meet me in the canning shed. We need to talk.”

  Sissy and I hurried, being careful not to make any noise. Daring not to walk through the kitchen, we carefully climbed out of the window and made our way to the canning shed. Sister and I were both excited and scared as we climbed out of our bedroom window and headed toward the shed. We had never been outside after dark without Momma, and if she caught us, she would tan our hide.

  Brother was there waiting for us. Once the door was closed, he began. “You cannot tell any of what I am going to say to Momma. When we are ready to carry out my plan, we will tell her—not until. We all know what is coming. General Sherman’s Army is only a few months away. They are burning everything, and no one is safe. We cannot stay here. I think my plan can work, but only if we are very careful.”

  That night, Brother told about Old Matthew, one of the slaves who worked with Brother Samuel back when Master Stewart still managed the plantation. They were working the land way out beyond the far orchard and sometimes, he and Brother would slip away to wander around the rock outcroppings and gullies, looking for fresh water or a stray rabbit. In the deepest gully, they came across a cavern. The opening was so covered in brush, Brother said they almost walked right by it. They decided to go in and look around. They walked very carefully, fearing the floor might open up and swallow them alive. They hugged the wall as they made their way to the back of the cavern. They found the cave was dry, clean, and cool.

  Brother said they explored the cavern several times the summer he was twelve. They worked fast collecting the ripe fruit, hoping desperately the Master would leave them alone again. Old Matthew had this strange look on his face as he took the wooden box of plums over to the wagon and stacked it carefully. Once the box was in place, he walked back to Brother as if he did not have a care in the world. They continued gathering plums, hoping Master Stewart would tire of sitting atop his horse in the hot Georgia sun. Sure enough, he turned the horse around two times as he tried to decide if it was wise to head back to the main house for lunch. After yelling at the slaves to take a short break, off he headed for the cool of his house and a bite to eat.

  Old Matthew and Brother waited until all the others were resting near the buckets of water. When they were sure none of them were looking around, they grabbed a handful of plums and took off for their cavern. Brother said they ate their fill and took a short nap in the coolness of the cavern. They did this several times, always making sure they wiped away their tracks with a broken bush limb so no one would find their cavern.

  After a few days they decided if there was one cavern, maybe there were others, so they began looking. Sure enough, they found two more. The second cavern turned out to be like the first. Eventually, they found a third opening in the outcroppings. When they entered, Brother said they could tell it was not a dry cavern because they could smell the water. As they carefully made their way into the darkness, clinging to the walls and watching where they put their feet, they found cold, fresh water in the very back of this deep cavern. Old Matthew swore Brother to keep their find a secret. They were sure Master Stewart did not know about these caverns. Brother said that Matthew got down on his belly and drank his fill of the cold, fresh water. He rolled over, smiled and declared, “While you and me is in this cavern, Samuel, we be free men. Us owns this place. It belongs to us. Out there, us be slaves, but in here us be the masters. Don’t never tell nobody bout this place. As long as us is the only ones knows, it belongs to us.”

  Brother told us that a few months later old Matthew got a sore on his leg that would not heal. A few days later, he was dead. That night in the shed, Brother said, “I am the only one who knows about those caverns. I think we can hide out there for months without getting caught. The four of us cannot make it all the way North without getting caught. I can haul supplies out there every night until we think we have enough for many months. We will have all the fresh water we would ever need. We can live and sleep in the dry caverns, and I can take a bucket and slip over to the wet cavern whenever we are running low of water. If we are careful, I am sure we will be safe there.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Ruby Remembers Hiding in the Caverns

  TOBIAS SMILED, REMEMBERING how proud Aunt Pearl always was telling how smart my Grandpa Samuel was, but it was Aunt Ruby who always told me about the caverns. When she told the story, nine-year-old Toby Boy was right there with them; and now, grown-up Tobias was drawn back in time and heading for the caverns right behind Ms. Ruby.

  We knew we did not have much time to prepare—maybe a week or so. Every night, Brother gathered up two burlap sacks, one filled with hay, one filled with root vegetables. Some nights he would make two or three trips. He began gathering up things he knew we would need. One night he took three wooden buckets out of the shed and carried them to the cavern. Another night he pulled out the large pickle barrel that sat in the tool shed, filled it with jars from our cellar and packed them in with hay. He strapped it on his back and carried it all the way there without any help.

  Pearl and I began taking items from the kitchen. We would need a sharp knife, several kitchen towels, and any spices that might make the vegetables tolerable. We made sure Momma didn’t notice they were gone. We would carry them out to the canning shed and hide them there for Samuel. Though Brother was sure we would not be able to have a fire for fear of someone seeing the smoke, we still packed several pieces of flint—just in case.

  Samuel made many trips out to the caverns with jars and jars of fruits and vegetables. We always feared some marauders would catch him. The fact that he never left the plantation would not have mattered. The marauders didn’t care about land markers. Knowing that a black boy out at night was fair game, Samuel w
as always extremely careful.

  When Samuel was sure we had almost everything we needed, he told Momma the plan. He did not tell her about the caverns for fear of her telling Ms. Victoria. He simply stated, “Momma, I think it is time for us four to go. The Union Army is coming, and you know what they will do to Pearl and Ruby. I have to get them to safety. Momma, if we can take some of the jars from our secret cellar, we can leave all the rest for Ms. Victoria, Ms. Elizabeth, and her children. That way you can be sure they won’t starve. We will share it with them, Momma.”

  Samuel thought this approach might help. If we were willing to share the root cellar and actually show Ms. Victoria she had a good hiding place for her family, maybe Momma would be willing to come with us. He was wrong.

  I remember asking Brother, “Why can’t we all just hide down in the root cellar?”

  Brother said it was not big enough for all of us, but the four of them would do just fine. But Momma said she needed to stay with Ms. Victoria. Oh, she wanted us to go, and she was willing to give us as many jars as Brother could carry. She even found several baskets and packed them with jars so Samuel could do two baskets at a time. The last several burlap sacks were filled with extra clothes, blankets, tin cups, and plates.

  When we were sure we were ready, we asked Momma one more time, but the answer was still, “No, you children go and be safe. I will stay here and help Ms. Victoria. We will keep a watch for the Army, and I will get them down into the cellar. We will be safe.”

  Momma had lived in that house her whole life, attending to Ms. Victoria since she was eight. She would not leave. Samuel, determined to get us into hiding and protect us with his own life, told us we had to run. For several weeks he had set aside apples, carrots, potatoes, and turnips, hauling bags of these supplies out to the dry cavern. He packed them in hay to keep the critters out of them. He also held back one fish every time he went fishing, skinning it, salting it, and laid it out to dry like the old timer Ben showed him. Sister and I hated that dry fish, but we learned to eat it. It’s amazing what you will eat when you are hungry enough.

  Just before we were set to run, Samuel did one last midnight trip. He returned to the cavern, set up the large pickle barrel deep in the dry cavern, then took the buckets and made many trips from the wet cavern, drawing water and carrying the heavy buckets back to the pickle barrel. He repeated this until the barrel was full. He knew every time he would have to leave the dry cavern to go get water for us, he would be putting us in danger of discovery. He wanted our first few days to be as safe as possible. Brother had thought of everything.

  We were now ready to run. Brother told us not to tell Momma the actual night we were leaving. That night we kissed our momma goodnight, slipped into bed with three layers of clothes on our backs and waited for our big brother to come to our window. We were both excited and scared, but we trusted our big brother. As we made our way across the fields, Pearl and I were taking our first steps toward freedom. Although we were both frightened at getting caught, we had our brother leading the way. It is always a little easier when someone who has already walked that path leads the way.

  As long as we were careful, Samuel felt we had about three months-worth of supplies. Once we entered the dry cavern, we were never to come out again until we were sure it was safe. Of course once every few days, when he felt it was safe, he would slip over to the wet cavern and bring back two buckets of fresh, clean, cold water for us. We did not dare light a fire because the smoke would not only drive us out of the dry cavern, it would tell the army where we were. We could not eat raw potatoes or turnips, and we were sick of apples and carrots. Brother was concerned that we were going through the jars of fruit too quickly.

  One day, Samuel explored the wet cavern, which was much deeper than our dry cavern. He came back quite excited; sure he could light a fire deep in the cavern, beyond the pool of fresh water. He thought if we packed the cast-iron pot with food and buried it under the fire, surrounding it with rocks, we just might get away with it. Sister and I packed the pot with potatoes, carrots, turnips, and apples. Brother believed it would be so deep in the cavern that no one would see the smoke. Several times a week we dined like kings, and no one ever saw any smoke or smelled the fire.

  Although the fire never gave us away, we did almost get caught. During the day we would take an apple or a few carrots and sit right by the cavern opening in order to get some fresh air. We knew better than to speak above a whisper, unsure if someone might be approaching us from behind. We would lie on our tummies, munch on our food and listen for sounds that did not belong there.

  One day Brother slapped my leg and signaled us both to quickly and quietly make our way back into the deepest part of the cavern. We had practiced this many times and thought he was simply doing another drill. Brother would usually whisper as we made our way to our assigned spots, “Quiet feet, remember?” This day he just kept shoving us, whispering for us to keep very quiet. Once I was tucked in my spot, Brother covered me with hay so a casual glance would not give me away. Then Pearl slid into her low-hanging crack, tucking her long legs as tight against the back wall as she could, and he covered her up, and then pulled the hay up against himself once he was sure we were safe. But this time it was different. Samuel warned us not to move a muscle until he said it was safe. Off in the distance, we could hear men talking. As their voices got louder, every part of me wanted to run—but where? The hollow echo of their voices told us they were in our cavern, and we remained very still. I was certain they could hear my heart beating. We heard footsteps working their way deeper into the cavern, and we were certain we would be discovered. The men, unaccustomed to the dark, were having a hard time seeing, when a loud shout came from far away, “We found fresh water over here.”

  All of the men scrambled out of our dry cavern and headed for the fresh water. Brother tapped at Pearl’s foot and whispered, “Stay put; they might come back here.” We remained hidden under the hay until well after dark, afraid we might walk into a trap if we moved. Finally, Brother quietly crept toward the mouth of the cavern and listened for anything that might give away someone’s lying in wait for us. When he finally felt it was safe, he crept outside and scouted the area, expecting to see the smoke from a campsite off in the distance. He soon returned to our cavern with news that the patrol must have enjoyed their fill of fresh water, filled their canteens and moved on.

  As we stood at the opening of the cavern with the moonlight shinning in, Samuel spotted a half-eaten apple that I had set aside that day. He could also see exactly where each of us had rested all afternoon while enjoying the fresh air. If those patrollers had been the least bit observant, we would have been captured or even died that afternoon. As a result of our nearly being discovered, he came up with a safety plan. We were no longer allowed to eat at the mouth of the cavern. We were to bury our daily garbage deep in the cavern after every meal, and we were to use a broom made of brush to hide our footprints and not leave a flattened area where we had rested at the mouth of the cavern. About two weeks passed before Brother felt safe building a roasting fire in the wet cavern. For two weeks, all we had to eat was raw, cold carrots, apples, canned fruits and vegetables. Whenever Pearl or I complained, Brother would remind us how it felt having the patroller standing just a few feet away from us. We would both just quietly begin gnawing on a raw carrot.

  We hid in that cavern for almost four months. If it hadn’t been for Brother, I don’t believe we would have made it through the war. We all worried about Momma. We wondered if she had enough to eat back at the house, and although none of us said it, we all worried if she was still alive. One night Brother said he was going to return to the big house and check it out. Pearl and I were to stay deep in the cavern until he returned. That was a very long night for us.

  Right at dawn, we heard footsteps in the darkness and wanted to scream, when we heard Brother call out, “Sisters, you can come out; it is safe.” Those were beautiful words coming out of Brother’s
mouth.

  Samuel told us he had run into one of Ms. Elizabeth’s slaves just walking down the road looking for something to eat. Samuel gave the frightened old man the lunch we had packed for his trip. While the old man enjoyed his first food in days, Brother learned that the war was not yet over, but the real danger in Atlanta was over. Sherman’s Army had burned just about everything in Atlanta and had moved on toward Savannah in December of 1864, leaving only a small command to maintain control of Atlanta. They were ordered to keep the peace and let the people go about their lives as long as they behaved.

  Our first question to Brother was, “Is Momma all right?”

  The look of pain on his face when he had to tell us everything was gone—including our momma—is a pain I will always remember. Brother said the barn and all the outbuildings had been burned to the ground. The main house had been torn-up something awful. All of the windows had been broken, big holes had been kicked in all of the walls, the furniture had been dragged outside and used for a bonfire of some sort. Not a stitch of food was left in the house or in the garden—not even in the root cellar. Even the well had been busted up and destroyed. Nothing was left to go back to.

  The porter’s loud announcement brought Tobias back to the present. “Charlotte, North Carolina, in ten minutes; Charlotte, North Carolina, in ten minutes. This will be a thirty-minute stop, so if you are planning on stretching your legs, be sure to have your ticket stubs on you. You will not be allowed back on without them.”