The Carter Journals

by Shane Phipps

  They walked along in silence again. Cody thought it was great news that Emily and her family were abolitionists and helped slaves on the Underground Railroad. He wanted to tell her that, but would David have agreed?

  “Why did you decide to tell me about this?” Cody finally asked.

  “Like I said, I like you and feel like I can trust you,” Emily replied. “Also, to be totally honest, when you said you worked as a lock tender on the canal, it gave me an idea. You may not be willing to do this, but I need to ask you anyway. Your job here on the canal could be a great deal of help to our cause. When slaves run north and reach this side of the Ohio River, they cross into free land, but their trip is far from over. Bounty hunters wander the north side of the river throughout its entire length, constantly looking for any sign of runaway slaves and for any sign of those who would help them. That is why the Underground Railroad extends all the way to Canada: Fugitives aren’t truly safe until they leave the country. This canal would be an excellent passage through this part of Indiana for escaping slaves. They could hide in cargo crates on canal boats. It would take some clever packaging, and it might also require willing lock tenders to look the other way when they came through, if you follow my meaning.”

  “You are asking me to help you run slaves through the canal?” Cody asked. “I’m not sure that’s possible. What if someone finds out?”

  “It isn’t likely anyone would find out,” said Emily. “Most of the people who help us in situations like this simply agree not to investigate any suspicious-looking cargo crates. They know there is a possibility that a slave could be hidden on the boat, but they don’t bother to look into it. That’s all there is to it, really. If a slave gets caught past your location, you would simply play dumb. No one would likely suspect you of being involved. That is the way the system works. There isn’t a lot of communication between the people who are a part of this, which makes it very difficult for the authorities to get to the bottom of things.”

  It made perfect sense to Cody, and he wanted to agree to it right away. Of course, he probably would have agreed to carry runaway slaves to Canada on his back for Emily if she had asked him. But he again wondered whether David would feel the same.

  “I would like to help you, Emily, really I would,” Cody said. “But I just don’t know if I can. Let me think on it for a day or two and give you an answer later. Is that alright?”

  “Of course. I know it is a big decision,” Emily replied.

  “And don’t worry,” Cody continued. “Your secret is safe with me, no matter what I decide to do.”

  “I trust you,” said Emily, as she reached up and gave Cody a little kiss on the cheek.

  With that, Cody again felt the swimming sensations in his head, calling him back out of the journal. When the curtain began to open before him, he was back in his room.

  Cody reached up and gently touched the spot on his cheek where Emily’s lips had just pressed. How could David Carter even consider turning down Emily’s request?

  Chapter 16

  Emily’s request seemed like a no-brainer. How could any self-respecting, red-blooded American boy say no to such a lovely creature? But when he really stopped to think about it, Cody realized it wasn’t as simple as he was making it. It was a different time. Most people, even those in the northern states who wanted to ban slavery, still hadn’t come to the point where they saw the races as equal. Helping slaves escape was, no doubt, a very difficult decision for someone to make in 1846. Cody understood that he had to be careful when judging people of another time from the viewpoint of his own time. After all, if people from those times were to look at some aspects of twenty-first century society, they would have a pretty poor opinion of some of our morals, too. Cody decided he would just have to give David the benefit of the doubt and trust that he would make the decision that was best for him in the long run.

  Cody didn’t want to wait around to find out what that decision would be, so he went right back to the journal. The fact that he wanted to see Emily again played no small role in his decision. He found his place and began to read.…

  Emily’s request weighed heavily on my mind that night. After she left, I went to bed and tossed and turned for much of the night, mulling over my options. I honestly don’t know where I stand on the issue. I do not hate the abolitionist movement as some people I know do. In my own opinion, slavery has worn out its welcome. However, I also understand that many people in the south, including some of my own kin, no doubt, base their whole livelihood on their slaves. Their slaves are their wealth. What is to become of these people if their slaves are suddenly taken from them? I find myself feeling that perhaps this Underground Railroad is a good solution to the problem. Perhaps if enough slaves are able to find their freedom, a few at a time, it will help to begin the process of phasing out slavery altogether. I don’t know the answer, but I do feel like I am finding my answer to Emily’s request.…

  Reading these words, Cody felt the familiar swimming sensations, and the dark spinning mineshaft carried him back to Metamora. When he opened his eyes, he was standing at the canal lock with Oliver Carter.

  “Your ma tells me you operated the lock for a boat all by yourself yesterday,” said Oliver. “How did it go?”

  Cody remembered how he was able to guide the boat through the lock. “No problems at all,” he replied.

  “She also tells me that she saw you walkin’ along the towpath with a girl last night after the dance,” said Oliver with a little twinkle in his voice.

  “That was Emily Morris,” replied Cody. “Her family just moved here from Pennsylvania.”

  “Real pretty too, I’m told,” teased Oliver.

  Cody grinned. “I suppose you might say that,” he admitted. He was silent for a moment. “What do you think about slavery?”

  Oliver paused. “Well, I reckon I am ready to see it go,” he said. “’Course you know we have some slavery in our family down south. It has been a part of the culture down there for a right long time. I’m not goin’ to stand in judgment of any man who chooses to own slaves, but I would just as soon see it done away with. I’m not ashamed to say it, although there are some folks who’d probably like to have me tarred and feathered if they heard me talk like this.”

  Cody was very glad to hear these words. He assumed this would make David’s decision a little easier. He decided to confide in Oliver.

  “If I tell you a secret, would you promise not to tell anyone or hold it against anyone?” Cody asked.

  “Of course, son. You can tell me anything,” said Oliver.

  “Well, it’s about Emily and her family,” Cody began. “She told me something last night, and she asked me to do something for her, too.”

  Cody hesitated, unsure how to proceed.

  “Go on, son, I’m listenin’,” Oliver said. “Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.”

  Cody took a deep breath. “Emily and her family are abolitionists, and they help slaves escape on that Underground Railroad,” he said. “They have come to Indiana to recruit people to develop a network of helpers. She asked me if I would be willing to help her allow slaves to pass through here hidden on canal boats. She said I wouldn’t have to do anything except sort of look the other way and not poke around looking through crates. She said if any slaves got caught on up the line that they wouldn’t trace it back to me.”

  “I see,” said Oliver. “And what did you tell her?”

  “I haven’t told her anything yet,” said Cody. “I told her I needed a day or two to think it over. What do you think? Do you think it’s wrong?”

  “It’s against the law,” said Oliver. “The law of man, that is, but I reckon God might see it differently. David, this is your decision. I’m not goin’ to tell you what to do, one way or the other, but I will tell you this: If you choose to help Emily, I will be willing to help, too.”

  There it was, thought Cody. This Oliver Carter is a fine man.

  “Thanks,” said Cody.
“I knew I could count on you. I’m going to tell Emily that we will help her.”

  With that, Cody was off to town to find Emily. He found her leaving the mercantile.

  “Care to go for a little stroll?” Cody asked her.

  “That would be lovely,” replied Emily. She offered Cody her arm, and he led her back down the towpath beside the canal.

  “I’ve been thinking about our talk last night,” said Cody. “I even spoke to my father about it—don’t worry; he can be trusted with our secret. He supports what you are doing, and so do I. We have agreed to do what we can to help you with your cause.”

  “I just knew that I could trust you, David,” said Emily. “I could see it in your eyes. I spoke to my father about our talk, too. He has come up with a plan. He has been to some of the towns north of here on the canal and found some willing households to be stopovers for slaves. The runaway slaves will travel in large crates with false bottoms. When they reach the stops with safe houses, there will be people there to help them off the boats and into hiding in the houses. I will try to tell you the names of the boats that will carry fugitives so that you will be aware of the situation as much as possible. Remember—just act as if nothing is out of the ordinary and let them pass. The folks on up the canal will do the rest.”

  “Sounds fine,” said Cody.

  “I am so glad!” exclaimed Emily.

  As Emily threw her arms around Cody, his head began to swim. When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the present, somewhat disappointed. David had made the right decision, as far as Cody was concerned. But had David really had the chance to guide boats carrying escaped slaves? He quickly read on in the journal.

  Then late one evening, just before dusk, I found myself alone at the lock. My parents were both in town. A cargo boat was heading north up the canal from the direction of Brookville. I began to make preparations to allow the boat to enter the lock chamber and to raise it to the next level of the canal.…

  Cody opened his eyes, still a little shaky after being transported back into the journal. He studied the approaching vessel. There were no passengers except for the boat captain, and there were several boxes of freight on the deck. When the boat got near enough that Cody could hear the captain, he could tell that something was wrong.

  “I have a problem,” the captain called. “I am hoping I can count on you to help.”

  “What’s the trouble, mister?” Cody asked.

  “I am Captain Conrad Willis,” the man answered. “I work closely with the Morris family, here in Metamora. I understand you know them pretty well.”

  Cody understood that the captain was tip-toeing around a delicate subject. He realized this must have something to do with smuggling a runaway slave. Suddenly, Cody began to feel very nervous.

  “Yes, sir, I guess you could say that,” Cody answered.

  “We need to talk,” said Captain Willis.

  Once the boat was inside the lock chamber, Cody shut the gates behind it and opened the side-channel gates to start the process of allowing the chamber to fill with water. The boat slowly began to rise with the water level as the captain exited his boat and went into the little house with Cody.

  “There is a bounty hunter following me,” said Captain Willis. “I have a young male slave out there hidden in a box. The bounty hunter has a real good idea that the slave’s in this boat. He was about an hour behind me. I got a warning by telegraph back in Brookville. He’ll catch me for sure within an hour if I don’t do something. I hate to even ask you this, but would you be willing to hide him here until the bounty hunter passes? I just don’t know what else to do.”

  This can’t be good, thought Cody. He felt himself begin to panic, though he knew David had agreed to help.

  “There doesn’t seem to be any choice, does there?” answered Cody.

  “We just need to get him off here until the bounty hunter passes by,” answered the captain. “Once the bounty hunter gets ahead of us, we’ll be able to get the fugitive back on the move on another boat.”

  “Let’s do it,” Cody replied. “We’d better hurry.”

  The canal boat was about halfway up to the upper level of the canal. Cody followed the captain to the lock chamber. They stepped down onto the deck of the boat, and the captain walked over to a large wooden crate that reminded Cody of a tall coffin. He took a pry bar and opened the end of the box, which appeared at first glance to contain only some saddles. Then Cody watched as the captain tugged on the floorboard of the crate and it began to slide out. He pulled it all the way out and there, in a space that didn’t look big enough, was a very frightened human being!

  Cody could not believe his eyes. How could someone travel for hours on end in such a tight, dark place? There was a little bit of straw on the floor to soften the ride slightly, but it looked to do little to provide any real comfort. The young man who was riding there seemed to be about eighteen to twenty years old. His eyes were wide with fright.

  “Don’t worry, son,” the captain said to the escapee. “You’ll be safe here. We have to make a stop here for a little while to allow a bounty hunter to pass on by. This young man is going to take good care of you until another boat can pick you up and carry you on up the canal.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the escaped slave. “I surely thank you both for your kindness.”

  The young man struggled to get to his feet, having stiffened from lying in one position for so long. Even though dusk was quickly falling and the light of the sun was not very bright, Cody noticed that the young man was squinting as if it were high noon, likely from having been confined in nearly total darkness. The runaway was wearing tattered gray pants. He had no shirt or shoes.

  As he and the captain helped the runaway slave out of the boat and up on the towpath, Cody was horrified to notice an ugly, crisscrossed network of raised welts and scars across the young fugitive’s back. The injuries were old, but they were a permanent testament to what this poor soul had been through. Cody quickly turned away. For a moment, he thought he might be sick.

  A former slave turned Union soldier during the Civil War reveals scars on his back from whippings. Gabriel would have had similar scars. (National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution)

  By the time the captain and Cody had gotten the young man out of the boat and into the little lock-tender’s house, it was nearly dark.

  “I have to be going,” said Captain Willis. “The bounty hunter will be here any time now, I expect. He will be looking to search my boat. He can search in it now all he wants. I am going on up to Metamora. You can tell him where he can find me, but he’ll be disappointed when he does!”

  “What should I do if he wants to search here?” Cody asked.

  “Hide the boy as best you can, but I don’t expect the bounty hunter will think to search here,” the captain replied. “I don’t think he would expect us to unload a fugitive so close to town.”

  Cody opened the upper gates of the lock, and the horses began pulling Captain Willis’s boat on toward Metamora. “There will be another boat along later to pick him up,” said the captain as the boat began to move out of the lock. “Thank you kindly for your help.”

  Cody went into the house and found the young fugitive standing exactly where they had left him.

  “My name is David,” Cody said. “What is your name?”

  “I am called Gabriel,” the runaway responded.

  “We need to find a place to hide you for a while,” Cody said. “I expect there will be a man coming through here soon looking for you. Don’t worry; I don’t think he will even look here, but just to be safe, we need to find you a place to lay low.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gabriel replied, “And thank you, sir. You are most kind.”

  Cody looked around the small house. “The only place I can think of to hide you in this little house is under my bed,” he said. “Why don’t you crawl under there and stay hidden? I’ll go out and watch for anyone coming to look for you.”


  Gabriel crawled into yet another tight space. It was a drill he seemed used to by now. Cody went outside and manned his post at the lock, hoping for the best.

  Within twenty minutes, Cody heard a horse coming up the towpath from the south. As the rider came nearer, Cody could see that the man rode with a purpose.

  “Are you Oliver Carter, the lock tender?” the man asked.

  “No, sir. I am David, his son,” Cody answered.

  “Have you seen any suspicious activities here on the canal of late?” asked the man. “My name is Charles Winthrop, and I am tracking down a fugitive slave. We have received some information that there might be some valuable cargo being smuggled through these parts—this cargo is private property that needs to be returned. It is my duty to try to bring that property back to the rightful owners, and under the Fugitive Slave Act, it is your duty to report anything you might know about it. Do you know anything about it?”

  Cody felt a chill run up his spine. He had never been good in situations like this. He was not a good liar. He had the kind of face that tended to give him away. Luckily, it wasn’t his real face that was staring down Mr. Winthrop.

  “No, sir, I sure don’t know anything about it,” Cody replied, cool as a cucumber. “If I ever hear of anyone trying to sneak a fugitive by me, they won’t get far. I come from the South, sir. I’ll be sure to keep my eyes and ears open. Thanks for the information, Mr. Winthrop.”

  Winthrop took a long look at Cody, sizing him up. The performance seemed to satisfy him. “Thank you for your time. Be sure that you report anything suspicious,” he said as he climbed back into his saddle.

  Newspapers regularly published notices seeking the return of runaway slaves. This notice, published in Missouri in 1847, states that a reward will be offered for the capture of a family believed to be on the run from Saint Louis, Missouri, to Chicago, Illinois. (Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division)