A Deeper Sense of Loyalty (9 page)

He hurried down the hill as fast as he could without spilling the water. When he reached his own camp he could see the panic on the faces of the slaves. But after James explained what had happened, they, too, were much relieved, especially when they heard that the soldiers would soon be gone.

It was after nine o'clock in the morning by the time James had finally eaten. He instructed Darnell and Buck to take turns sleeping while the other stood watch. “I believe we are pretty safe here,” he told them. “But I don't want to take any chances. Let me sleep until I wake up. I'm dead tired.”

Then he spread the canvas under the wagon to escape the heat of the sun; he fell asleep, and didn't awaken until after eight o'clock that evening.

The long rest was just what he needed. When he awoke, he lay still for a few moments and listened. All was quiet. He crawled out from under the wagon and walked back to the camp the slaves had set up. There was a low burning fire and a semicircle of logs pulled up close to provide something to sit on. Darnell and Emmy were sitting together, talking, while Buck and Tisha slept. When they saw him coming Emmy poured him coffee from a pot hanging over the fire.

“Thank you, Emmy. This will taste real good about now.”

“If you is hungry, I has some stew ready, Mr. Bill.”

“That sounds good, too.” While James ate his stew, the couple talked about what they were going to do after they found a new home on free land. They also talked about the past. James offered his sympathy when they told him about two sons they had, whom old Mr. Turner sold when they were just eight and ten years of age. “Yes sir, Mr. Bill. I don't spect we ever see dem boys again.”

Emmy started to cry and Darnell did his best to comfort her. James was more determined than ever to get them all to freedom.

At ten o'clock, Buck and Tisha woke up and Darnell and Emmy went to sleep. James sat until two a.m., then after telling Buck to wake everybody at sunrise, he crawled back under the wagon and went to sleep again.

At daybreak they consumed a quick breakfast and packed the wagon. Then James cuffed the men to their wives and they started off again. It really was a preference to travel at night, but until they could find a good road again, it would be too hazardous. For hours the wagon bounced along at a snail's pace until finally, they came out to a road that led in a northeasterly direction. At noon they stopped for an hour to eat, and by six o'clock that evening they were near a town called Beckley in western Virginia. Considering that they were in good shape for supplies, James decided they would roll on through the town and look for a likely spot on the other side to stop until nightfall. They would eat and rest a while, then travel hard to reach their first real safe haven: the state of Pennsylvania.

When Beckley was about five miles behind them, James started searching for that next campsite. Suddenly, he heard a sound that was not welcome. There was a loud crack followed by the sound of wood splitting. The front right corner of the wagon dropped, causing him to grab the side of the seat to keep from falling off. He brought the horse to a stop and carefully climbed to the ground. Everything in the wagon, including his passengers, had slid to the side and the two women were being badly squeezed. Quickly, James moved the cargo to the back and helped everyone out. Fortunately, except for a few scratches, no one was hurt. The rough going in Tennessee had taken its toll and the wheel was broken. As they all stood there staring at the shattered wheel, a team of horses pulling a hay wagon with a portly farmer at the reins was approaching from the north. Having no other choice, James waved the driver down.

He was a friendly looking man, mid-fifties, dressed in overalls and a big straw hat. Sporting a broad smile, he pulled off his hat, wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, and said, “Howdy, neighbor. Looks like you could use a little help.”

“I'd be grateful,” said James, returning the smile. “This wheel is done for and I have no spare.”

“We'll you're in luck, neighbor. I have everything you need to get fixed up. My name is Crawford, Tyson Crawford. I'm on my way home from delivering a load of hay. My farm is about a mile down the road. Lest you're blind, you had to have seen it.”

“Do you mean the place with the big white barn and the windmill?”

“That's the one. Now let's see if we can get you fixed up.”

James couldn't believe the luck. The last thing he needed was to be stranded along the road. Why couldn't the wheel have let go on the way through Beckley? Instead, James thought, the Lord had provided Mr. Crawford and they would soon be on their way.

Their benefactor got down from his wagon and walked over to have a look at the broken wheel. When he got to the sagging corner of the wagon, he looked at the slaves standing there in silence. When he saw the manacles on their wrists, his mood changed instantly. “Are those Negroes your slaves?” he demanded.

Caught off guard, James was about to go into his story about taking them back to their owner, but he didn't get the chance. Mr. Crawford cut him off, saying, “Because if they are, I'd like to give you a piece of my mind, mister. Virginia may have seceded and Virginia might hold with slavery, but in this part of the state we are loyal to the Union. We are not rebels here and we are not slave owners and the people in these western counties are making plans to secede from Virginia. No, sir! I'll not lift a finger to help a man who puts irons on another man unless he's broken the law. And wanting to be free ain't breaking the law.”

With that, he stomped to his wagon and started to climb aboard. James had to make a quick decision. “Mr. Crawford, please wait.” The farmer turned and glared at James. “This isn't what you think. These people are not my property . . . in fact,” James took a deep breath, “they are runaways. I'm trying to get them up North so they can be free.” Mr. Crawford's expression softened.

“Are you being truthful with me, mister?”

“Yes, sir, I am. I helped these people escape from their owner. We started out from Georgia about five days ago.”

“Then what about those irons?”

“Just for appearances,” said James. “They wear the manacles in case were stopped by the authorities. I hope to make people think that they are in my custody.” By this time Mr. Crawford was smiling again.

“Well, I'll be switched. So you're an abolitionist, and from Georgia, too. I will be switched. Of course I'll help you, but on one condition.”

“What is that?” James asked.

“That you come back to my farm for a spell and let me and my misses show you a little hospitality.”

“That's very kind of you, sir. We
were
about to stop for a rest and some food before this happened. My name is William Mason.”

“Wonderful, Mr. Mason. Let's get this wheel replaced.”

James removed the manacles, and with four men to help, the wheel was replaced in no time. He offered to pay for the wheel, but Mr. Crawford wouldn't hear of it. So he turned the wagon around and followed the good samaritan back to his farm.

After unhitching the horse, James filled the depleted canteens with water. By that time, Mr. Crawford's wife, Betty, had prepared a sumptuous meal of fried chicken, peas, potatoes, and biscuits. It was a warm evening; instead of eating in the house, the Crawfords set their guests up at a large wooden table that sat beneath a shade tree. It was quite a picnic and Betty Crawford was just as congenial as her husband. They treated the slaves as friends, if not family, providing the first relaxed and enjoyable moments since leaving Georgia.

After they had all eaten, Betty went to the house to fetch two cherry pies she had baked that morning. It all seemed too good to be true. But then Mr. Crawford asked a question that bothered James a little at first.

“So, I guess they've got rewards out for your capture by now.”

“Yes, they do,” said James. “I saw a notice at the sheriff's office in Greenville, South Carolina. I really didn't pay any attention to the amount.”

“Well, no one will ever collect it,” said Crawford. “By some time tomorrow you can be in Pennsylvania. I suppose you'll head due north from here.”

“Yes.” James replied, relieved at the man's simple curiosity. “As they say, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.”

“You know,” said the farmer. “If you're so inclined, you are welcome to rest here for a while before taking the road again. I have some cots in the barn there. Sometimes I hire temporary help and I let them sleep out there. It's mighty comfortable, so they tell me.”

“That sounds inviting, Mr. Crawford. We might just do that. We
had
planned to sleep a few hours before moving on.”

After eating the delicious pie that Mr. Crawford's wife served, the table was cleared and Betty went to the house to wash the dishes. Then the farmer got up and said, “I best go give her a hand. If you decide to stay a while, you'll find those cots just inside the barn door.”

“You know,” said James, “I think we will stay for a while.” The kind farmer displayed that huge smile again and said, “Wonderful. You stay as long as you like, and in case I don't see you before you leave, good luck to all of you.”

Again, James offered to pay for the wagon wheel and the terrific meal, but the farmer would take no money. Mr. Crawford headed to the house and James and the slaves headed for the barn.

The cots were easy enough to find, but as he lay there in the darkness of the barn, James began to get the uneasy suspicion that something was wrong. Maybe he was just getting anxious to reach the end of the journey or maybe he still couldn't quite believe the good fortune of the day. In any case, he decided to trust his instincts and get back on the road again. He did feel guilty about disturbing the others. He knew that they, too, could use a few hours of sleep in something with a little more resemblance to a bed.

James got up quietly to go tell Mr. Crawford that he had changed his mind and to take one last opportunity to thank him. When he got near the house he could see the farmer and his wife through a window, sitting at the kitchen table. The window was open on that warm evening, and although he felt a little ashamed at first, he stopped for a moment to listen. James could hear every word. Betty was talking and he heard her say, “Then you had to offer those fresh cherry pies I just baked.”

“Would you forget about those damn pies?” Her husband retorted. “Those four niggers must be worth hundreds of dollars, maybe thousands. The reward has got to be pretty big, not to mention what they'd pay to get their hands on Mason for helpin them escape. I tell you, we'll make enough money to buy a lot of wagon wheels and you can bake as many pies as you want. Just wait a little while, let them fall asleep. Then I'll go into Beckley and get the law. We'll claim the reward.”

James didn't know which was worse; what he had just heard, or how badly he had been taken in. But the farmer had been so convincing. Then he noticed that Crawford's horse and wagon was hitched and sitting in front of the house.

James hurried back to the barn and woke Darnell. “Wake the others and tell them not to make a sound. This farmer has set a trap for us. I'll get the wagon hitched up. Quickly and quietly now.”

As cautiously as possible, James backed the horse up to the wagon and fastened the harness. When everything was ready, he led the horse out to the road very slowly.
Thank God it's dark
, thought James. After walking for about a quarter of a mile, he climbed into the seat and snapped the reins. Now it was up to luck.

A few miles down the road they came to a y-intersection. Now he had another quick decision to make. Should he go straight or take the other road that headed almost due east? He had told the farmer he would head directly north, but that was before he knew that Crawford was planning a double cross. The only things that James could be sure of were that Crawford didn't know the conversation between him and his wife had been overheard, and it was understood that James and his companions would not be staying all night. Of course, it was a safe assumption that a search party would be sent in both directions. He turned the horse to the right and got her moving as fast as he could. As he sped down the road, one thought kept echoing through his mind and it reminded him of the basic rule he had established before he started: trust no one!

 

SEVEN

 

The Freedom Line

 

 

If everything fell into place the way James prayed it would it might amount to as much as a three hour head start on the despicable Mr. Crawford and his posse. However, it complicated matters to be heading east rather than north. It would be much longer before they could reach Pennsylvania; longer that they would remain in the slave state of Virginia.

They stopped to rest under a bridge that crossed a shallow creek. A small group of riders on horseback clattered over their heads heading east. There was no way of knowing if they were following James's wagon or if their business was something else. It was a relief when James came to an intersection and could turn north.

There was one more problem that was beginning to make life a bit uncomfortable. The farther north they got, the more the temperature dropped. It was something that James had failed to take into consideration. In the Deep South, the weather could be quite nice in late April, but in Pennsylvania there was still a possibility of snow. He was upset with himself for not remembering what northern weather was like during his years of school in New York. James estimated the temperature to be about fifty degrees and it was only three o'clock in the morning. It would be hours before the sun was up far enough to provide a little warmth. For the time being, the important thing was to just keep moving.

At about six-thirty, James was able to see how far off course they'd gotten, thanks to the treachery of Mr. Crawford. A road sign indicated that they were three miles from Morgantown. They were somewhat east of where James wanted to be. It had been his plan to head for a small town called Mount Morris, which was just across the Pennsylvania line. From there, Erie was due north. But it was no time to worry about small details, and in spite of everything they still were not far from the border. When they'd crossed it he would turn northwest for a short while to put them back on a course for Erie.