by Al Lacy
That is it! he thought. I will go to the North and live as a free man.
When the last slave had been checked off aboard the Berkeley, Jim Lynch frowned and looked at his boss. “Mr. Green, I think when you had the crewmen count the sick ones in their cabins, they must have made a mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re missing one person.”
“Can’t be,” said Green. “I’m sure my men counted the sick ones correctly. They did a double check while the ship was docking. Their tally has to be right.”
“Then how could we be missing one person? You stood right there and watched me check them off as they passed by. I know I didn’t make a mistake.”
“Who is missing?” Green asked.
“A nineteen-year-old slave named Benjamin.”
Green’s face stiffened. “Benjamin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm. We had some problems with him on the way over. His parents died from the dysentery. Now that you mention it, I don’t remember him passing the checkpoint.”
“He sure didn’t, sir, or I’d have him checked off here on the list.”
Green rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’re going to have to make a thorough search of the ship. He’s got to be here somewhere. I want him found immediately.”
Jim Lynch hurried to the bridge and told Captain Kimball that Benjamin was missing. Kimball assembled his ship crew with Thomas Green’s crewmen, and they scattered throughout the ship. Almost a half hour had passed when they met on the deck. After covering every square inch of the vessel, they reported that Benjamin was not on board.
Thomas Green was furious. He ejected a string of profanity and said to his men, “He must be tracked down and caught immediately!”
“Mr. Green,” said Kimball, “I can’t let my men off the ship. We have to prepare to pull out by tomorrow afternoon.”
“All right, all right.” Then he said to Lynch, “Jim, we’ll have to use every available man in our crew. That low-down blackie has got to be caught!”
“Tell you what, Mr. Green,” said Kimball, “the best thing to do is go to the town constable’s office and tell the man in charge about Benjamin. You’ll catch him a lot faster if you have law officers after him who are familiar with the town and the area.”
Green and Lynch hurried through the streets of Charleston to the constable’s office. They found Lieutenant Howard Follett on duty, who was in charge of the office for the night. Green reported the runaway male slave and told the lieutenant he wanted law officers after him immediately.
“Now, calm down, Mr. Green,” Follett said. “It would be futile for us to try to run the slave down in the darkness. We’ll begin our search at dawn.”
“All right,” said Green, breathing hard. “My men will help you.”
The lieutenant shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, sir.”
“But it could speed up catching him.”
“You don’t understand, sir,” said Follett. “Chief Constable Mulvey would never allow your men to join us in the search. You have come here asking for our help. We will be glad to give it, but you must allow our officers to pursue the slave with no one to hinder us. If you would rather pursue him on your own, you are welcome to do it.”
Thomas Green cleared his throat and said, “No. I’ll let you do it. You will have your men begin searching for him at dawn, right?”
“Yes, sir. Now, I need a description of him. How old is he?”
“He’s nineteen.”
Follett wrote it down. “Approximate height?”
“He’s a good six feet. Maybe six-one. Very muscular. Broad shoulders. Slender waist. His name is Benjamin. When he is placed on the auction block, any plantation owner will be able to see immediately that he can do a tremendous amount of work in a day.”
As Follett was writing, Green said, “Lieutenant, it’s very important that Benjamin be caught. With his physique and stature, he’s my prime slave for the auction. Not only is he big and strong, but he speaks, reads, and writes English better than the average South African Negro by far. He will sell for top dollar. Do you understand what I’m saying? Slave trading is my business. It’s my living. I need this man caught.”
“Yes, sir,” said Follett. “We’ll catch him, sir. Now, where will we find you when we have him?”
“I’m staying at the Charleston Arms Hotel.”
“All right, sir. Now, you go get yourself a good night’s sleep and let us do our job.”
As dawn broke over Charleston, Benjamin moved about the alleys, trying to find something to eat. He could find nothing.
He had resigned himself to the fact that returning to South Africa was impossible. His only hope was to get out of Charleston and head north where slavery was not allowed.
He checked the position of the rising sun and worked his way northward. As he dashed from alley to alley and street to street, he was becoming more confused. It seemed he was getting no closer to Charleston’s north edge.
Benjamin was glad it was Sunday morning, for he had been told that all businesses were closed on Sundays in the United States. This would mean fewer people on the streets to see him.
When he reached an alley after darting a half block down a street, he saw two men in blue uniforms. They wore sidearms and carried long black sticks. They were standing at the mouth of an alley another half block away.
One of them spotted him and pointed him out to the other officer. Fear lanced through Benjamin’s heart like a cold blade of steel. Already puffing, he dashed into the alley he had been about to enter. He heard a shrill whistle and men shouting.
When he saw two more uniformed men appear at the far end of the alley, he skidded to a stop. They were coming on the run, shouting at him to halt. With the breath sawing in and out of his lungs, Benjamin wheeled to run the other way but froze in his tracks. The first two officers were hurrying toward him, guns drawn. One of them commanded him to stand still.
Sweat beaded on Benjamin’s brow as the four officers surrounded him. The first two made him place his hands behind his back and cuffed his wrists, then put shackles on his ankles.
“Now, blackie,” said one of them, “you’re going back to your owner.”
As all four officers ushered Benjamin along the street, one of them said, “So how’d you get off that ship, blackie?”
Benjamin gave him a sullen look. “I went overboard and swam to shore.”
“Took some courage to do that.”
“Not courage, officer … desperation.”
The officers looked at each other and shook their heads.
Moments later, the officers ushered their captive through the doors of the police station. Chief Constable Hugh Mulvey was in the office, talking to one of his men. When the men in blue came in with their prisoner, Mulvey smiled. “So you got him!”
“Yes, sir,” said one man. “You want him in a cell, I assume, until Mr. Green can come and get him?”
“Yes. Lock him up. Good work, men. Walters and Manning, you go to the Charleston Arms Hotel and tell Thomas Green we’ve got his runaway slave.”
As he was led to a cell with the chain clinking between his ankles, Benjamin clenched his jaws until they hurt.
In room 223 at the hotel, Jim Lynch was seated at a small table with his boss, giving him a report of the situation at the barn.
“Good work, Jim. I’m glad to know all is well.”
“The slaves had a good breakfast, too, sir. Even all of the sick ones were able to at least eat a little.”
Green smiled. “Very good! Maybe we’ll have them well real soon and can get them sold in a hurry.”
“I believe we will, sir.”
Green’s smile faded as he said, “Now my big concern is Benjamin. If they don’t catch him—”
A loud knock at the door cut into Thomas Green’s words.
“See who that is, Jim.”
Lynch hurried to the door and opened it to find two uniformed
officers.
“Good morning, sir,” said one. “I’m Officer Reginald Manning, and this is Officer Henry Walters. Are you Mr. Green?”
“No, Officer. I’m his assistant. But Mr. Green is here. Please come in.”
Green was on his feet as the officers stepped into the room.
“I’m Thomas Green,” he said.
“Yes, sir. We have some good news for you, sir. We caught your runaway slave about a half hour ago. We have him in a cell at the station. Chief Mulvey sent us to let you know and to tell you that you can come and claim him anytime you wish.”
Green chuckled merrily. “Well, Jim, let’s go get him right now.”
“Yes, sir!” said Lynch, glad to see his boss so happy.
A hungry, dejected Benjamin heard voices in the hallway that led from the cell block to the office. He looked up as the door opened and saw the chief constable leading Thomas Green and Jim Lynch toward his cell.
Benjamin looked up as Green stepped to the bars and gripped them. “So! You thought you could get away from me, eh, Benjamin?”
Giving the man a doleful glance, Benjamin said, “I tried.”
Green’s eyes flashed with anger. “Let me tell you something, boy! I would have you severely flogged as punishment for your deed, but I don’t want any marks on your body. Tomorrow, you will bring me a good price at the auction.”
Later that morning, at the slave church on the Finn Colvin plantation, Ol’ Mose stood before his congregation and read them the words of the Lord Jesus Christ in John 8:36: “If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” He followed by reading them 1 Corinthians 3:13–14, explaining that it pointed to the judgment seat of Christ, where every Christian would one day stand:
Every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. If any man’s work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward.
“Brethren,” said the old man in his cracked voice, “this mornin’ I want to preach to you about the rewards that God’s born-again children will receive at the judgment seat of Christ for their faithfulness to the Lord while they were here on earth.”
Mose referred to John 8:36 first, pointing out that everyone within the sound of his voice who had received the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Saviour had been set free. They were no longer slaves to sin and Satan, but were free because of the precious blood of God’s dear Lamb.
Mose went on to explain that on earth, he and his hearers were slaves and had no riches; but by their faithfulness to serve the Lord while here, they would be rewarded generously at the Judgment Seat and would have eternal riches. During the rest of the sermon he tried to encourage every Christian to walk close to the Lord and serve Him faithfully all the days of their lives.
After the service, some of the slaves gathered around the old man, thanking him for the good sermon. One older woman said, “Ol’ Mose, we ’preciate you preachin’ straight to us. There’s no question in my mind that fo’ yo’ faithfulness in preachin’ the Word, and in bringin’ many souls to Jesus as a personal soul winner, you have great riches laid up in heaven.”
“That’s right,” spoke up one of the young men. “Lots o’ riches!”
The old man bent his head downward a bit and said, “Whatever riches this Ol’ Mose might have in heaven are only because of the grace of God.”
At their usual Sunday morning late breakfast, the Colvin family was discussing the slave auction that would take place at the outdoor arena the next morning.
“Pa, how many slaves you planning on buying?” George asked.
Finn thought on it a moment while chewing a mouthful of pancake, then swallowed and said, “Well, we’ve had two women and one man die since the last auction, in addition to Nathaniel. So I want to pick up at least two women and two men. It will take a good one to fill Nathaniel’s place. He put out a lot of work. I just wish he hadn’t let his stomachache keep him from going to the field that day.”
Martha looked at him levelly. “It wouldn’t have hurt you to be more understanding, Finn.”
“No lectures, dear,” he said flatly. “I do want you to go with the boys and me to the auction tomorrow, since I’ve got to buy a couple of women. I need your sharp eye, as usual, to help me in that department.”
Martha nodded her consent.
Just after noon, the Moores were heading home from church in the family carriage.
Evelyn, who sat in the driver’s seat next to her husband, said, “Charles, are you still planning to buy a husband and wife tomorrow?”
“Yes. That’s all we need right now. I’d like you to go along, honey, so you can give me advice on the woman.”
“Sure. No doubt the Johnsons will be there. Catherine and I can sit together.”
From the rear seat, Priscilla said, “Papa, may Dorena and I go to the auction with you? We have always enjoyed going.”
“Sure, honey.”
Priscilla looked at Dorena, then said to her parents, “I sure hope the Johnsons bring Angeline. We three girls didn’t get our time together last week. I really missed it.”
Catherine chuckled. “Well, girls, maybe things won’t be so hectic around both plantations this week, and you girls can get together for your regular visit.”
THE NEXT MORNING, after the slaves were fed, Thomas Green addressed them and explained that they would be taken from the barn into the arena about thirty minutes before time for the auction to begin. They would be placed in a fenced pen at one end of the arena and sent out to stand on the auction block as directed by Jim Lynch. Before the auction began, the prospective buyers would pass by and look at them. If any of the buyers asked questions of the slaves, they were to politely answer them.
Green set his eyes on Benjamin and motioned for him to come forward. Green took him aside and said, “Benjamin, this may mean nothing to you, but you are my prime slave in this sale. When all of you are taken into the arena and placed in the pen, I want you to stand right up close to the fence so you can be plainly seen … and stay there. You will be the last slave to go on the block. Do you understand?”
Benjamin nodded morosely.
“Get that sour look off your face, boy! I want a pleasant look on your face when you’re in the pen and on the block. Got it?”
“Yes,” said Benjamin, ridding his face of some of the gloom.
Green studied Benjamin’s features for a few seconds and said, “Well, that’s a little better. Now, before you go out there, clear it up completely.”
Just after nine o’clock, the crowd of plantation owners and those who accompanied them began to enter the arena and take seats in the bleachers.
The Moores and the Johnsons had chosen seats together. Lewis Moore placed himself somewhat aloof from the rest of them.
When the Colvins entered the arena, Finn spotted the Moores and the Johnsons and pointed to them, saying to Martha and his sons, “Let’s go sit right in front of them.”
“Why do you want to do that?” Martha asked.
“It’ll make ’em nervous.”
“Why do you have to be a thorn in their side?”
“Just because,” Finn said.
When the Colvins were seating themselves in the row directly ahead of the Moores and the Johnsons, Finn greeted Charles and Zack. Both men returned the greeting in a pleasant manner.
Martha ran her gaze to Evelyn and Catherine and smiled, saying, “Hello, my dear friends.”
“Nice to see you, Martha,” said Catherine. “Glad you could come.”
Martha chuckled. “Had to. Finn wants my advice if he sees a slave woman he thinks he might want.”
“Well, at least he knows whose advice he needs,” said Evelyn.
Martha shrugged and turned back around.
Suddenly someone in the crowd shouted, “Here come the slaves!”
All eyes in the bleachers went to the Negroes being
herded through the big doors and into the fenced pen.
Thomas Green motioned to Benjamin and showed him the spot next to the fence where he wanted him to stand. Benjamin forced a pleasant look on his face and obeyed.
When the slaves were all in the pen, and Thomas Green and Jim Lynch were positioned at the gate, the owner of the arena and director of the auction, Lawrence Fowler, mounted the auctioneer’s platform. Raising his hands to gain the crowd’s attention, Fowler soon had the crowd quiet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “welcome to today’s auction. Mr. Thomas Green, as you know, has just brought in a shipload of slaves. Our auctioneer, Clem Samson, is here and ready to begin. But first, Mr. Green has a few words to say to you.”
There was light applause as Green took the central spot on the platform. “Good morning,” he said in a cheerful tone. “I believe I have a choice load of slaves to offer to you. All of them were brought from South Africa, which you know is under British rule. This means that all of them speak English. Some of them can even read and write.”
An approving murmur swept through the crowd.
“We will now give you fifteen minutes to go down to the pen and look them over,” he said. “If you want to ask questions of any of them, feel free to do so.”
Most of the viewers who left their seats in the bleachers were men. A small percentage were women. Soon they were collected at the pen and began to talk to some of the slaves. Some pointed to specific slaves, asking them to come to the fence so they could talk to them.
As the viewers scrutinized the slaves, not one person overlooked the stalwart, muscular Benjamin, who stood staring as if at some distant object. Only when spoken to did Benjamin look at those who addressed him.
Finn and Martha Colvin discussed two of the single slave women. Even as they talked, Finn’s eyes drifted to Benjamin. Martha gave him her opinion about the two women, pointing out two others. They agreed on which two Finn would bid for, then he said, “Did you get a good look at this boy over here?”
