by Al Lacy
“Yes,” said Catherine, smiling. “If we don’t get started, the food is going to get cold.”
After prayer had been offered and the family had started eating, Zack said, “All right, son. What is it?”
“Well, Pa, lately you’ve been talking about buying a few more slaves.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“This edition has a full-page advertisement about a slave auction to take place at the outdoor auction arena this coming Monday.”
“Oh, really? Let me see it.”
Dan lifted the paper from his lap and handed it to his father. “I have it folded so you can see the whole page when you open it up.”
As his eyes ran down the page, Zack said, “It’s Thomas Green again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm. Says he’s bringing a shipload of slaves from South Africa again. If I remember correctly, this makes his third load from there. He used to bring them all from West and East Africa.”
“Why do you suppose he changed locations, Pa?” Alexander asked.
“I’m sure it’s because South Africa is under British rule and the Negroes there all speak English.” Zack’s eyes roamed the page. “Yes, it says right here that all the slaves Green is bringing with him know English, and some of them can read and write. He’s using the slave ship Berkeley this time. It’s supposed to dock in Charleston Harbor sometime Saturday evening. It says here that, as usual, Green has already sold many of the slaves to plantation owners who ordered them in advance, but most of them will be sold at the auction on Monday. Green says he will have a good number of choice slaves on the block.”
“How many do you think you’ll buy, Zack?” Catherine asked.
“Don’t know for sure, honey.” Zack folded the paper and handed it back to his oldest son. “We’ll see how it looks and what kind of prices they’re going for.”
On Saturday evening, March 24, the Berkeley swung off the Atlantic Ocean in the last moments of sunset’s afterglow and steamed toward Charleston.
As the ship edged into port, it was obliged to move slowly because of the sandbars and oyster shoals lining the channel. All of the slaves stood on the deck and set their gaze on the view around them. They took in the lush coastline with reedy marshes edging the waterfront and green grass rising waist-high out of soft gray mud. Beyond the marshes stood firm soil with a curtain of trees and thickets so dense that light could barely penetrate it at midday.
The harbor at Charleston was shaped by the confluence of the Ashley and the Cooper Rivers. Flowing south, the wide rivers formed a peninsula and met at a place called Oyster Point, a protruding piece of land colored white with shells. The Cooper ran around the eastern edge of the point and the Ashley around the west.
Charleston stood on the east side of the peninsula, facing the Cooper River. At the entrance of the harbor stood Fort Sumter on Sullivan’s Island. Uniformed men could be seen at the flag pole, bringing the red, white, and blue flag down for the night.
Benjamin stood at the railing between two male slaves. Soon the docks came into view, and by the light of many large kerosene lanterns that lined them, he watched the dock workers preparing the big thick ropes to secure the ship to the dock. A dark feeling descended over him like a suffocating blanket. With everything that was in him, Benjamin wanted to be free.
Soon the Berkeley’s propeller was churning in reverse, bringing the vessel to a halt. Captain Spencer Kimball’s crewmen dropped the anchor, and the dock crew went to work to secure the ship. When the gangplank was lowered into place, Benjamin watched Thomas Green walk down it. As he reached the dock, a man hurried up to meet him.
Thomas Green smiled at the approach of his assistant, Jim Lynch. The man ran his gaze over the crowd of slaves standing on the deck and said, “Well, boss, it looks like you got yourself a pretty big load.”
“Would have been bigger, Jim, but quite a number of the darkies came down with dysentery on the way over. Twenty-four of them died by the time we were a hundred miles from the Carolina coast. Forty-two others are getting over it. We buried the dead ones at sea. But we’ve still got a pretty good bunch to sell.”
“Well, I’m sorry for the ones you lost, but I guess it could have been worse.”
“Yeah. It could’ve been much worse. Is the big barn at the auction arena ready to house the slaves until the auction on Monday?”
“Yes, sir. It sure is. The food is ready, too.”
“Good. We’ll have to put the sick ones in the barn, too. When they get well, we’ll have to figure out a way to sell them.”
Lynch nodded. “I have it all set, sir. The slaves you have already sold will be picked up Monday morning before the auction starts at ten o’clock.”
“All right. I assume the ad I left for you to put in the Gazette was placed as planned?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. And you have the men ready to escort the slaves across town to the barn?”
“Sure do. Fourteen of them. If you’ll look over there in the shadows at the back side of the dock, you’ll see them.”
Green glanced that way and could make out the men who waited with rifles in their hands. “Okay. Let’s get the slaves off the ship.”
Benjamin and his two friends watched Thomas Green as he stood on the dock, talking to his assistant.
Benjamin’s breathing turned ragged as he said, “I can’t do it. I just can’t do it. I’ve got to escape.”
“There is no way to escape,” Jarod said, who was just a year older than Benjamin. “If you try it, those men down there with the rifles will shoot you.”
“Jarod is right, Benjamin,” said Stamus, who was in his thirties. “If you try to escape, they will kill you. And what possible way is there? Jump overboard and swim back to Cape Town?”
Benjamin’s eyes were riveted on the armed men in the shadows as he said, “You jest, Stamus. Of course I cannot swim back to Cape Town. But the only possible way of escape is to jump overboard and swim until I find a place to come out where I can run and get away. If I could do it without being seen, by the time they missed me, I could be somewhere inland where they cannot find me.”
“But they would track you down,” Jarod said. “If Mr. Green let you live, you no doubt would be beaten severely. Or they might just shoot you on the spot when they find you.”
“You are very strong physically, Benjamin,” said Stamus, “and you are a good swimmer. But Jarod is right. Mr. Green would be very angry if you escaped, and he would have his men track you down. You must not try it. They will kill you.”
Benjamin’s eyes followed Thomas Green and his assistant as they walked toward the gangplank. “Better to be dead than a slave for the rest of my life,” he said through clenched teeth. “Both of you have wives to be concerned about. I have no family. My father and mother are dead. I have nothing to lose. I am going to jump overboard.”
Both men kept their eyes on Benjamin as he made his way through the crowd of slaves as if he were merely positioning himself to walk down the gangplank when the orders came to do so.
“He will not make it,” Stamus said.
“I fear not,” said Jarod. “But I hope he does.”
Down on the dock, Thomas Green and Jim Lynch started up the gangplank with half of the armed men following them. The others formed a semicircle where the slaves would come down on the dock.
When Green and Lynch reached the deck, Captain Spencer Kimball was there to greet Lynch.
Kimball handed Lynch a clipboard with papers on it and said, “Jim, all of the Negroes who were put aboard the ship in Cape Town are listed here. Those who were buried at sea have a line drawn through their names, and those who are in their cabins sick are marked as such.”
“All right, Captain. Thank you.”
“We’ll come back for the sick ones shortly, Captain,” Green said. Then, running his gaze over the crowd of black faces, he called loudly, “Everybody line up at the gangplank. Families stay together. You will go down the gangp
lank one at a time so you can be checked off the list as you leave the ship.”
Keeping himself at the edge of the crowd, Benjamin felt his mouth go dry. His heart was pounding. He had to make his move now.
BABIES AND SMALL CHILDREN FUSSED and cried as preparations were made to take them off the ship. There was a hubbub of voices and the sound of parents trying to hush their frightened, unhappy children.
Before the slaves started down the gangplank, Thomas Green stood at the opening in the railing and raised his hands. “Get those children quiet! I mean it! Right now!”
There was a hurried effort to obey his command, and within a moment, the noise volume lowered.
“Now listen to me!” said Green. “When you are taken from the harbor, you will be escorted through the streets to the place where you will stay until Monday morning. The men who will escort you are armed. They have orders from me to shoot any slave who attempts to escape. Those of you with children, make sure they stay in your grasp at all times. If one of them should decide to run from you and you go after him, you will be shot as one who is trying to escape. No one is going to escape! Now, let’s get lined up and move off the ship.”
While the slaves moved as one body toward the gangplank, the front of the crowd began to form a single line to pass by Jim Lynch while Thomas Green looked on.
Benjamin ran his gaze to the dark waters of Charleston Harbor that lapped against the dock. How was he going to get overboard? The armed men would see him move toward the edge of the deck.
There was an ever-tightening knot in the pit of Benjamin’s stomach. His tongue felt thick and dry and clung to the roof of his mouth. He stayed at the edge of the slow-moving crowd and saw Jarod and Stamus with their wives. Both men were looking at him covertly, deep concern showing on their faces.
Benjamin avoided their eyes, running his gaze once again past the edge of the deck to the murky water below. His heart thudded against his ribs.
The name checking began, and one by one the slaves started down the gangplank. Infants and small children were in their parents’ arms, and others were being held by the hand. Many of the children were crying again.
Tension mounted in Benjamin as he inched his way closer with the crowd toward the gangplank. In just a few minutes, his opportunity to slip away and go into the harbor waters would be gone.
Suddenly, a small boy three or four years old got loose from his mother and ran across the deck toward the bow of the ship. The father was holding an infant in his arms as he dashed after the child, calling him by name. The mother was on his heels, crying for her little son to stop.
With the attention of the crowd on the pursuing parents, another child broke loose and ran the same direction. There was instant confusion as two more parents, both holding smaller children, ran after him. Thomas Green shouted for the men to grab the child, and there was a loud hubbub on the deck.
When Benjamin saw that everyone’s attention was fixed on the excitement happening on the starboard side, he went to the port side. When he was in the shadows, he turned and ran. Just before he reached the edge of the deck, he turned to look behind him, a pulse pounding in his ears. No one had noticed him, for there were no pursuers.
He swung a leg over the rail and eased himself down, using the horizontal rungs to lower himself until his head was below deck level. His heart was pounding like a trip-hammer as he looked down at the inky water below. Taking a deep breath, he let go of the rung and felt himself plummeting downward. He stiffened his body straight as a board so he would make as small a splash as possible.
Suddenly Benjamin was in the water and felt as if he had been wrapped in ice. The water was still very cold from the recent winter months. When he surfaced, he swam as fast as he could toward the bow of the ship. His body was quivering, but he stayed close to the ship and listened for sounds above him.
All was quiet. Apparently the children had been caught and were moving back to the gangplank with their parents.
Benjamin knew he hadn’t secured his escape yet. He still had to make it to dry ground, shake Thomas Green’s armed men off his trail, then lose himself in a strange land where black men lived as slaves. How he would survive, he had no idea. But survive he would … as a free man.
In spite of the water’s temperature, Benjamin went beneath the surface and swam away from the docks, surfacing periodically to take a breath of air. After a while, he made his way to dry ground and lay on the shore to catch his breath. By the light of lanterns burning along the town’s edge, Benjamin could see that a dirt road ran along the shore, and from it, four or five streets cut inland.
His teeth chattered uncontrollably as he rose to his feet and glanced back at the docks, then looked at the Berkeley. The huge black ship seemed to him to be a floating prison from which he had just escaped. At the same time, it was a death boat that had taken his parents away from him forever. Grief filled his heart as he thought of his dead mother and father, then he took a deep breath and ran as fast as he could toward the town.
The first buildings Benjamin reached were simple clapboard structures with sharply pitched roofs, though a few brick buildings could be seen. Some had slightly pitched roofs, and others were flat.
When he came to an alley, he plunged into the pocket of darkness, leaned his back against a wall, and bent over to catch his breath. He wondered if Thomas Green knew by now that he was gone from the ship.
Once he was breathing almost normally again, Benjamin made his way toward the other end of the alley where he could see a patch of light that showed him a wide street. As he drew near the end of the alley, he heard the sound of horses’ hooves on cobblestone and flattened himself against the wall of a frame building that reached all the way to the board sidewalk along the street. His heart lurched in his chest. Were they searching for him already?
His fear eased when he saw a carriage pass by with a lantern burning on each side of the cab. All was silent then, so he slowly inched his way toward the street.
Just as Benjamin reached the end of the large frame building, he heard male voices and the sound of footsteps on the board sidewalk. Suddenly two men appeared. Their conversation broke off as they set eyes on Benjamin’s form in the pale light coming from the kerosene lanterns along the street.
“Hey, Ted. Do you see what I see?”
The other man let out an evil-sounding chuckle. “Yeah, Marv. It looks like we’ve got us a darkie prowlin’ in the alley. What’re you doin’ here, boy?”
Benjamin tensed, every nerve in his body feeling like it was stretched to the limit.
“You know what we’ve got, here, don’t you, Ted? We’ve got us a runaway slave from one of the plantations around here. Whoever owns him will give us a fat reward for bringin’ him back. Which plantation you from, boy?”
Benjamin worked his tongue loose and said, “I am not from any plantation. I am not a slave.”
Ted laughed. “You’re not a slave? Well, black boy, what are you? President of a bank? If you’re a free blackie, then you’re carryin’ papers to prove it. Let’s see ’em.”
Benjamin set his jaw. “Just go away and leave me alone. I was not bothering you.”
“Of course not,” said Marv. “But you are a runaway. You haven’t shown us any emancipation papers. Now, just tell us which plantation you’re from, and we’ll take you safely back to your owner.”
“I told you,” Benjamin said, “I am not anybody’s slave. I have no owner to whom you can return me.”
“Then why haven’t you produced your papers?”
A dog was barking somewhere a few blocks away.
A hard, brittle anger flared up within Benjamin. These men could cause him to be caught by Thomas Green and his men if he didn’t get away from them. His breath was hot as he said, “You have no authority to demand that I produce papers. I am not a runaway from any plantation. You were on your way somewhere. Why don’t you just keep going and forget you saw me?”
Ted chortled. “Guess w
e’ll just have to take him to the constable’s office, Marv. Let the law find out who he belongs to, then collect our reward.”
“Okay. Let’s take him.”
As he spoke, Marv reached out and gripped Benjamin’s left arm. “Let’s go, boy.”
Benjamin yanked his arm free. “Do not touch me!”
Marv looked at his friend. “C’mon, Ted. Let’s wrap him up and deliver him to the law.”
As both men stepped closer to him, Benjamin knew he had only one choice. Marv was closest to him and was opening his hands to grab him.
Benjamin planted his feet and unfolded like a coiled spring, driving a rock-hard fist into the man’s face. The impact sounded like a flat rock falling into mud. Marv went down like a dead tree in a high wind, and Ted swung at the black man’s jaw. All he found was thin air. Then he was greeted with a sledgehammer blow that exploded something inside his head like a million pinwheels of stars.
As Benjamin stood over the men, he could see they were out cold. The breath was sawing in and out of his lungs, more from anger than exertion. Suddenly he was aware of another carriage coming along the street.
He grabbed both men by their collars and dragged them into the deep shadows of the alley. He flattened himself against the wall of the building till the carriage had passed, then ran down the street the opposite direction and plunged into another alley.
After waiting there for a few minutes, he moved back to the street, looked both ways and crossed. He ran for two blocks and dashed into another alley as he saw a wagon approaching. He hid himself behind some large wooden crates and decided to stay there until the crack of dawn when he would make a run for it and get out of Charleston.
As he sat on the ground in deep shadow, Benjamin let his mind run back to the night he and his parents made an escape attempt from Cape Town, hoping to make it to Transvaal and live as free people. He told himself he would not fail this time. He would get away! And go where?
The thought tortured his weary mind. Where would he go? For sure, he would have to leave what he knew was the Deep South. Someone had told him that people in the north part of the United States were against slavery.
