by Shane Phipps
“I will for sure,” Cody replied. “Good night to you, and good luck.”
Cody watched the man ride on into Metamora. He was sure that Winthrop would track down Captain Willis and demand to search his boat. He was not at all sure what would happen when he found the boat to be free of fugitive slaves.
Cody walked back into the house. He told Gabriel to stay hidden under the bed, just in case Winthrop decided to double back and check the lock house.
“Where do you come from, Gabriel?” Cody asked.
“Down ’round Tennessee—close to Memphis, sir,” came Gabriel’s reply from under the bed.
“How old are you?” Cody inquired.
“Don’t rightly know for sure,” answered Gabriel. “My Massa told me I was born in 1827, but I don’t know the date. My mammy was sold off when I was just little. I don’t have no family much to help me keep track of how old I am.”
“Well, if you were born in 1827, that would make you about nineteen years old,” Cody offered.
“Nineteen,” repeated Gabriel. “That don’t seem like too long, but I feel like it’s been a lot longer. Thank you again, sir, for your kindness.”
“You can call me David,” Cody replied.
Then Cody heard someone coming up the towpath toward the house. He quickly told Gabriel to be quiet, then walked outside. He breathed a little easier when he saw David’s parents walking toward the house.
“There’s a bounty hunter in town,” said Oliver. “We were worried that he might have stopped here and given you a hard time.”
“He stopped here,” Cody replied. “But he didn’t give me too hard a time. I was able to convince him I was on his side—good thing too, considering.”
“Considering what?” asked Mary suspiciously.
“Considering I have what he’s looking for under my bed right now!” Cody said.
“You mean you have a runaway in the house?” asked Oliver. “And with a bounty hunter here snoopin’ around?”
“Yes, indeed,” Cody said with a sly, proud smile. “Has the bounty hunter left?”
“He searched a boat and left in a hurry going on north,” answered Mary. “Where’s the runaway now?”
“His name is Gabriel, and he’s still under my bed,” Cody replied. “I guess it’s safe to let him out from under there now.”
The family entered the house. “Gabriel, my parents are here,” Cody called out. “It’s safe to come out from under there now. The bounty hunter has already gone.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. David,” said Gabriel as he crawled from under the bed.
“My goodness, look at you,” said Mary. “You are half naked and dirty. You could probably use a good meal, too. David, he is close to your size. Get Gabriel some fresh clothes to wear, and I will warm him some of our supper leftovers.”
In about an hour, Oliver Carter heard a boat coming up the canal from the direction of Brookville. He went outside to operate the lock. In a moment, he was shouting something to David.
“What do you need, Pa?” asked Cody as he stepped outside to investigate.
“This man is here to take Gabriel on up the canal,” Oliver replied.
Cody reentered the house to find that Gabriel was ready. Gabriel emerged from the Carters’ home in a clean set of clothes and with a belly full of home-cooked food. Before boarding the boat and entering yet another cramped hiding place, Gabriel paused to speak. “Miss Mary, Mr. Oliver, Mr. David, you good people will never know what your kindness has meant to me. I know that lots of other white folks would want to kill you for what you are doin’ to help me. You make me feel like there are people left in this world that I can trust. I won’t ever forget it.”
“You just be careful and take care of yourself,” said Mary.
“I hope you find a good life up north,” Cody said. “You are due some good fortune.”
The family watched as Gabriel crawled under the false bottom of a crate. The boat’s captain covered him with the false floor and tacked the end of the crate closed with a hammer and nails. With that, Oliver opened the lock gates and the horses began to pull Gabriel north up the canal toward a tenuous freedom and an uncertain future.
The next morning Cody ran to Metamora to report what had happened to Emily. He found her sitting on the porch of her home.
“Emily, we have to talk,” Cody said.
“I heard there was some excitement at the lock last night,” Emily said.
“I had to hide a runaway slave under my bed!” Cody said in an excited tone. “His name was Gabriel. A bounty hunter came by looking for him. He was asking a lot of questions. He said there were reports that fugitives are being smuggled through here. I think I was able to convince him that I didn’t know anything about it. I tried to make him think that I was on his side. I’m pretty sure he believed me, but I can’t know for sure.”
“It sounds like you handled it well,” Emily assured him. “This sort of thing happens all the time. It isn’t anything to get too worried about. Of course they know that slaves are being smuggled through the area. Slaves have been smuggled through all the possible routes out of the South for years. The hunters come through trying to scare folks into talking and telling what they know. I think you handled it perfectly. There is no way he can trace anything to us. David, I am so proud of you!”
With that, Emily threw her arms around Cody’s neck and gave him a long and passionate kiss. Cody thought his head would explode.
At that moment, he felt the swimming sensations again, pulling him from the journal. When the curtain began to open before him, he found himself sitting at his desk in his bedroom. He looked at David’s journal and noticed there was one more short entry.
Jan. 21, 1847—asked for Emily’s hand in marriage this evening. She said yes. We will be married in the spring!
“Way to go, David!” Cody exclaimed with pride.
Part Seven
The Journal of Andrew Carter
Corydon, Indiana, 1863
Chapter 17
Cody had enjoyed his time in David Carter’s journal. It was a welcome relief after the trauma of the Martin Carter journal. He hadn’t had to worry about Indian attacks or battles. He had hung out with some teenagers and especially had enjoyed his time with Emily. He had also learned a lot about canals and how the Underground Railroad worked.
Now Cody looked into the box that contained the journals his grandfather had brought him. It was nearl empty. There was only one journal left. His timing was good, since on Monday, his family was leaving to visit his grandfather in Tennessee. He would have just enough time to finish reading, and then he would be able to share his experiences.
The next morning, after breakfast, Cody returned to his room and retrieved the last remaining journal from the box.
“Well, this is it,” he said. “The last leg of my trip.”
He opened the cover and read the title page. The Journal of Andrew Carter, Corydon, Indiana—1863. Cody knew Corydon was way down in the southern part of the state, near the Ohio River. He also remembered learning that Corydon was the original state capital of Indiana, before Indianapolis, but he was sure that had been way before 1863.
Eager to get started, Cody settled himself in, turned the page, and began to read the first entry….
My name is Andrew Carter. I am eighteen years old. I live in the town of Corydon, in Harrison County, Indiana. My mother is Nancy Carter. I never really knew my father, Thomas. He was killed in action during the war with Mexico when I was just a baby. We lived in Tennessee when my father was killed. After that, my mother decided to move us north into Indiana to be near some of her family. Her father and my grandfather, Wallace Nelson, lives here in Corydon. As I begin my journal, our nation is in a mess. The War Between the States has been raging on for two years now. It doesn’t show signs of stopping any time soon. I am torn between my love of country and my love of family. Much of my family still lives in states that have seceded from the Union—the secesh states. They
are now under the government of the Confederacy. I am against the war, but I want to see the Union preserved. Some would call me a Copperhead for these views, but I don’t know what to call myself. I am simply torn.…
Cody again felt the swimming in his head and a falling sensation. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in the center of a town. He was in a crowd of young people, two of whom seemed to be getting very worked up about something. As he continued to observe, he realized that they were arguing about the war. There seemed to be two camps in this debate. One group seemed to be very supportive of the Union army and President Lincoln. The other side seemed to be not so much against the Union as against the war itself.
“This war should never have been started in the first place,” asserted one hot-tempered teenage boy with fiery red hair to match. “Lincoln stole the election! Most of my family is from the South. They depend on slave labor for their livelihood. Lincoln is trying to rob them of everything they have!”
“Nonsense, Jim,” retorted a young man from the other group. “South Carolina and the other secesh states never gave Lincoln a chance. They started leaving before he even took office! He wasn’t about to take their slaves away; he wanted to keep the Union together.”
“That’s what he says now, George,” replied the red-haired teen, “but a lot of folks know better. He’s an abolitionist at heart. He’s said as much himself.”
“He’s also said that he would do whatever it took to preserve the Union, including keeping slavery in place,” replied George.
President Abraham Lincoln and his cabinet members examine a map at the beginning of the Civil War. (H. B. Hall, “Council of War in ’61,” Jack Smith Lincoln Graphics Collection, P 0406, Indiana Historical Society)
“Well, whatever the case, it’s way too late now,” Jim replied. “We’ve got ourselves in a real, honest-to-goodness mess! I say we just end this war now and go back to the way things were before.”
“The way things were before wasn’t working, Jim,” George answered. “Southern states kept trying to spread slavery further and further west into the new states and territories. Don’t you see how that would bother the Northern states?”
“So you expect the South to just sit back and let all those new territories and states come in with slavery outlawed?” Jim asked. “You expect the South to let the North get a big advantage in power so that they can outvote us on every issue in Congress? What’s the matter with popular sovereignty? Why not let people vote to decide whether they want slavery or not? Majority rules, I say!”
“Yeah, sure,” replied George sarcastically, “and if you don’t have a majority, create one by shipping in people from all over to stack the vote for you. Look how that turned out in Kansas!”
There was a momentary pause, and tension filled the air. Suddenly, Cody decided to speak.
“You both make good arguments,” he began. “I can see both sides of it. I truly can. I, too, have a lot of family in the South. I know how much slavery means to the whole Southern economy. I also know how important it is to preserve the Union. Can you just imagine how vulnerable we all are right now as we battle against our own brothers? What’s to stop anyone around the world from coming in here and taking advantage of us in our time of weakness? What if the Confederate States of America succeeds in winning independence? How can we face the future as separate countries? One thing is for certain: both surviving countries would be far weaker than we are as one union. My heart tells me that we should, as Jim says, just end this and try to go back to the way things were before—but my head tells me that it’s impossible to do that now. I fear there is no turning back. I fear we’ll be forced to see this thing out to the bitter end.”
Cody was impressed with himself. The little speech had made good sense. It seemed to strike a chord with the others gathered around him, too.
“Leave it to good old Andy Carter to be the voice of reason,” said Jim.
“Yeah,” agreed George. “We could argue until we’re blue in the face, but we aren’t going to change the reality of the situation. I think you hit the nail on the head, Andy.”
As the group began to break up and head their separate ways, Cody thought about the scene he had just witnessed. He was a bit confused. Here he was in the free state of Indiana during the middle of the Civil War, and he had just witnessed a debate in which a lot of the crowd had strong Southern sympathies. How common was it for people in the North to feel this way?
This 1863 political cartoon depicts Lincoln cowering next to a Confederate soldier who wears patches with the names of battles that the South had won. The soldier tells Lincoln to try another trick because he holds all the honors. Lincoln was unpopular, even in the North. (Jack Smith Lincoln Graphics Collection, P 0406, Indiana Historical Society)
As he considered the question, a middle-aged woman came out of the doorway of a small house down the road. “Andrew, where are you?” she called. “Supper’s on the table gettin’ cold.”
Cody realized the woman must be Andrew’s mother, Nancy Carter, and began to walk toward her. “Sorry,” he called. “I got caught up in a little discussion in town.”
“Debating this awful war again with Jim Watson and George Jenkins, no doubt,” Nancy said, as Cody drew closer. “Those two are both stubborn as mules.”
“Yeah,” agreed Cody. “I believe they both think they’re going to change the other one’s mind if they keep talking long enough. Neither one really listens to the other.”
“I bet you told them how you always see both sides. You always did have a level head, son,” said Nancy. “I wish your father had been more like you in that way. He just up and volunteered to go fight in that Mexican war without so much as thinking it through once. He had to go off and get himself killed, and for what? So the United States could have a bunch of land that has done nothing but cause all of this fussing ever since. If it weren’t for all that God-forsaken land your father died to gain, we wouldn’t be in this war now!”
It was easy for Cody to see that Nancy Carter harbored a lot of bitterness about her husband’s death. She seemed to see the Mexican War as a big cause of the Civil War, and from what Cody knew of it from history class, he could see her point.
“They say the United States gained a lot from that war,” Cody said. “Maybe he didn’t die in vain.”
“I just don’t see why men attach so much glory to war,” responded Nancy. “I just don’t see it. A man’s life is about all he has when it comes down to it. He only gets to live in this world once. Why would a man be willing to throw it all away to gain land for his government? To my way of thinking, there are only two things worth fighting for: God and family.”
“I know that some folks think that is exactly what this war is about—God and family,” answered Cody.
Nancy sighed. “All I know is, I’m sure glad you haven’t got mixed up in this fighting. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too,” she said softly.
Cody could see how upset she was by the idea of her son meeting the same fate as her husband. After a moment, he replied, “Well, I’m not even sure what side to support. I’m sure not planning to go and seek out a fight, but if I feel like I need to protect what we have here, I’m not likely to back away from anyone.”
As he entered the house and walked toward the food spread out on the table, Cody felt himself being pulled out of the journal. Just as things began to go dark, he was back in his bedroom.
Chapter 18
Cody had been fascinated by Jim and George’s debate over the expansion of slavery. He had only recently studied this era in history class, and it was clear to him now just how polarizing the issue of the spread of slavery into western states and territories had been to the United States. He had known that on some level, of course, but he never knew just how difficult it was for ordinary citizens to decide where they stood on the issues that divided the country. It had always seemed obvious before, from the perspective of his own time: Slavery was wrong and needed to be end
ed. Yet, having just come from Andrew Carter’s journal, Cody seemed to have more questions than answers. Perhaps what his history teacher had said was true: Maybe we do get a better look at history the further away we get from it.
Cody was ready to go back into this journal again. He found his place and began to read the next entry….
June 29, 1863—Things do not go well. Rumors are flying around like flies. Word is spreading that Confederate General John Hunt Morgan is on the move through Kentucky and plans on invading Indiana. They say he wants to bring the horror of war to the people of the North. Jim Watson claims he was approached by one of General Morgan’s advance scouts yesterday. He says Morgan is looking for Southern sympathizers who might be willing to join his forces when he comes through. Jim is a lot of talk, but if what he says is true, we could be in trouble here in Corydon.…
As he read these words, Cody felt the familiar sensations drawing him into the journal. When he opened his eyes, he once again was standing in a small crowd of young men. An older man in a Union military uniform was speaking.
“Good afternoon, men,” the man said. “My name is Colonel Lewis Jordan. I command the Sixth Regiment of the Indiana Legion. You might know us as the Harrison County Home Guard. I am here on behalf of the governor of Indiana, the honorable Oliver Morton. We are trying to muster as many volunteers as we can to help stand guard for our communities here in the area. As you have probably heard, Rebel forces may be planning a raid. There are many conflicting reports as to where this might occur and how large the forces are. We have intercepted several telegraph messages, but the information is inconsistent. We believe this to be intentional, that the Confederates are planting the information in an attempt to confuse us. At any rate, we are in the process of preparing for any eventuality. Those who are willing are being asked to sign up and join the Home Guard. There is a real chance that if the Rebels cross the Ohio River into Indiana, they could come right through Corydon. Who will protect our town, men?”
