Point of No Return (26 page)

Clarence walked up to us with the bells on his hat banging away.

“Our guest seems to think you know a thing or two about birds,” Mr. Mason told him.

Clarence wouldn't look Mr. Mason in the eye, but gave him a slight nod. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Mason held up a finger. “I'm entrusting you to Mr. Jamison. If you try to run away, not only will
I
be sorely put out, but so will Mr. Jamison. Between the two of us, I reckon we'll catch you and hang you in a most painful way. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good bird-hunting, then,” Mr. Mason said.

We thanked him for his kindness and strolled with Clarence across the field and into the nearest patch of woods. Clarence did his best to keep his head still so the bells wouldn't clang, but it was no use. It sounded like a herd of cows with bells around their necks was on a stampede.

“We'll have to walk far enough away so they can't hear the bells,” Uncle Andrew said.

Mr. Mason owned a lot of land, so we made it pretty far before Uncle Andrew stopped and faced Clarence directly. “We'll never find any birds like this,” he said.

“Are we really looking for birds, sir?” Clarence asked.

“Only the kind to set free,” Uncle Andrew replied, then produced the key to the helmet. “Is it safe?”

“We should be clear from the farm,” Clarence said.

“I've been watching behind us to make sure no one was following,” I said, proud of myself for thinking to do it.

“Good lad,” Uncle Andrew said, then grabbed the padlock at the base of the helmet. “Let's get that thing off your head.”

“Are you sure, sir? I mean, this whole thing seems risky to me,” Clarence said, with a worried sound in his voice.

Uncle Andrew nodded. “I'm sure.”

The lock was a little rusty, and it took a minute or two to get the key moving inside of it. I was afraid that Hickocks gave us the wrong key. (I wouldn't put it past him to do something like that.) Finally, something clicked and the lock came loose. We helped Clarence take the helmet off. Clarence immediately moved his head to the left, then to the right, then rolled it around and around on his shoulders. Each movement made him groan with pain.

With a victorious shout, Uncle Andrew and I threw the helmet into a pile of leaves.

“Cover it up, Jack,” Uncle Andrew said.

I grabbed leaves and started to bury the ugly thing.

“What are you doing? I have to take it back!” Clarence said.

Uncle Andrew brushed his hands off. “I promised to bring
you
back, not that inhumane piece of iron.”

Clarence reached out to Uncle Andrew. “Look, Reverend, forget about me. But I beg you to go to Colonel Ross's house and get my little girl. That's where she is. Your friend, too. It's only six miles away. Jake told me—he goes there on errands. He saw them with his own eyes.”

“I won't forget about you, Clarence,” Uncle Andrew said firmly. “If all goes according to plan, tomorrow night we'll
all
leave together.”

“Tomorrow night? But how?”

“Yeah—goes according to
what
plan?” I asked.

Uncle Andrew smiled. “The plan I'm making up as we go along.”

“Oh, Lord have mercy,” Clarence said.

“I'm quite in earnest, Clarence. Without that helmet, do you think you can escape tomorrow night?”

Clarence gave the question some thought and then nodded his head. “If they don't put me in another helmet, I think I know a way out.”

“Then we'll pray they won't have another helmet to put you in. One way or another, we'll know when we go back,” Uncle Andrew said. “Now, let's go look at some birds.”

We walked through the woods and fields of Mr. Mason's land, and I was surprised to find that Clarence really did know a lot about the birds we found. He even taught Uncle Andrew a couple of things. I tried to take notes about the birds so I could answer intelligently if anyone asked me. Eventually, I gave up. Once we got beyond blackbirds, sparrows, and mockingbirds, the names got too hard. They were called things like phoebe and nuthatch and waxwing and titmouse. Even now I'm not sure I'm getting them right.

When it was time to go back to the plantation, Uncle Andrew reminded Clarence about running away the next night, then said: “Whatever happens, let's decide now that our rendezvous point will be north—at the Hollow Tree by Griffith's Creek. A friend told me about it. It's about 20 miles. Do you know where that is?”

“I reckon if I head north along Griffith's Creek, I'll find it,” Clarence answered.

“Good man. So, by the grace of God, we'll be on our way within the next 48 hours. Can you hold on until then?”

Clarence said, “I'll try. I've waited this long. I think I can wait another 48 hours. Just so you promise we won't go without my little girl. 'Cause I won't.”

“I promise.”

Clarence suddenly stopped and grabbed Uncle Andrew's hand. “Thank you, sir,” he said with tears in his eyes.

Uncle Andrew gazed into his face, then simply said, “You're welcome.”

Back at the plantation, Hickocks started sputtering and went red-faced with the news that we didn't have the helmet. “You said you
lost
it?”

“Yes,” Uncle Andrew answered. “I'm so sorry. It was scaring the birds, so we took it off in the woods and moved on. For the life of me, I couldn't remember where we put it. Neither could Jack or your slave.”

Hickocks took a deep breath as he looked at us warily. “I have no doubt that they couldn't! The Master'll be upset.”

“I'll be happy to make full restitution for the item,” Uncle Andrew said.

Hickocks glared at him. “Full restitution? You think you can just walk into a store and buy one of those things? I made it myself. It was the only one we have.”

I was relieved to hear the news. That would make our escape plan a little easier.

“Please, just name the price and I'll pay it,” Uncle Andrew said in a voice that was full of mock regret.

“It's not for me to say,” Hickocks snapped. “Take it up with Mr. Mason.”

“I will. Wait here, Jack.” Uncle Andrew strolled off toward the house.

Hickocks eyed me, then Clarence. “I don't know what you're up to, but I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.”

“Up to, sir?” I asked.

“I won't be made a fool,” he said, then looked steely-eyed at Clarence. “Listen to me, boy. If you run away again, you better make sure you're never found—'cause I'll kill you if I catch you. You hear me? I'll kill you.”

“Yes, sir,” Clarence said.

It scared me to hear Hickocks talk like that and I was glad to hear Uncle Andrew and Mr. Mason return. Uncle Andrew must've charmed Mr. Mason again, because Mr. Mason didn't seem bothered about losing the helmet and insisted that his driver take us back to town.

At the carriage, Uncle Andrew told Mr. Mason that this was good-bye.

Mr. Mason was surprised. “I'm sorry to see you go so soon,” he said sincerely.

“We won't be too far away,” Uncle Andrew replied. “I want to go to Colonel Ross's plantation first thing in the morning. I was told that he has several species of woodpeckers on his property.”

“Does he? How unusual. Several species? How marvelous for him. I never heard that.”

“Perhaps I've got it wrong, but it will be worth investigating.”

They shook hands, and then Mr. Mason signaled the driver to go. I glanced back and it looked as if Mr. Mason was still pondering how Colonel Ross was lucky enough to have so many woodpeckers to look at.

I quietly asked Uncle Andrew about the lies he kept telling.

He looked at me as if I'd shocked him. “Lies?” he replied.

“You said you heard that Colonel Ross has woodpeckers. You didn't really hear that, did you?”

“I
said
I might have heard wrong,” he explained.

“You know what I mean,” I persisted. “You also said we lost the helmet. Isn't it wrong to lie like that?”

Uncle Andrew looked at me with a serious expression, his eyebrows pushed together in a thoughtful frown. “Jack, I've asked myself that question time and time again. Is it wrong? Well, let me ask
you
a question. Was Rahab wrong?”

I thought about it, but I couldn't remember who Rahab was. I shrugged and said, “Rahab was in the Old Testament, right?”

He smiled sympathetically. “The story of Rahab is in Joshua, chapter 2. She hid a couple of Joshua's spies, then lied to her king's men to protect them. Was she wrong?”

“I don't know. Was she?”

“People have been debating that question for centuries,” Uncle Andrew replied. “On one hand, she lied. On the other hand, she protected two of God's men. Do you remember what happened? God brought the walls of Jericho down for Joshua and the Israelites. Because of Rahab's faithfulness, she was saved by Joshua.”

“So they rewarded her for lying?” I asked.

Uncle Andrew nodded. “It seems that way. And there's an even more interesting twist to the story.”

“What?”

“Read Matthew, chapter 1. Rahab was an ancestor of King David, and in turn she was related to Jesus Himself. The apostle Paul even considered her a hero of the faith for what she'd done. What do you make of that?”

I didn't know what to make of it. “Are you saying that lying is okay?”

“Not necessarily,” he replied. “God prohibits ‘bearing false witness,' which means lying about your neighbor to bring unjust punishment against him. Rahab did not lie in that sense. Likewise, I am not breaking a commandment by what I do. I say what I say not to bring harm to anyone or to bring personal gain to myself, but to free men from their bondage.”

We rode on silently while I thought about it. I kept thinking about it all the way through dinner, bedtime, and breakfast the next morning.

As we got ready to go to Colonel Ross's plantation, I told Uncle Andrew what I thought about his explanation.

“I'm still not so sure about it,” I said.

He smiled and clapped me on the back. “I thought that's what you'd say.”

I waited to see if he had another answer.

His smiled faded and he looked deep into my face. “Jack, may God judge me if I'm wrong. But I am willing to risk His wrath to set these slaves free.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Matt tells about his confession.

O
KAY
, I
NEED TO
tell you right up front that it was hard working in Colonel Ross's house. Just in the couple of days I was there, I worked until every muscle in my body hurt. At night, when Jonah said I could go to bed, I barely had the energy to wash my face before I collapsed onto that straw mattress and snoozed away.

We—I mean, the house slaves—were the first ones up in the morning, even before sunrise, to milk the cows and get breakfast ready for the Colonel and his wife. There were logs to split and the house animals to be fed (except Scout; he only let Eveline feed him). Then we dug in the garden, swept the porches, set the dining room for the next meal, polished silver, and washed clothes—and I'm not talking about using a washing machine. We had to use a washboard and tub, scrubbing and scrubbing until our hands were all pruney. I was exhausted. Eveline, Jonah, Lizzie, and the other house slaves acted like there was nothing to it. If they were tired, they never let on, and they didn't complain.

Eveline amazed me. I don't know where she got all her energy. Only a couple of times did I see her standing still by the back door or a window, looking out with a sad look on her face. She was thinking about her dad, I knew.

The whole time I was working, I had to keep reminding myself that I was doing it so I could come up with a plan to help Eveline see her father again. That's why I came back. But I wasn't sure how to do it.

I also kept wondering where Jack was. Did the Imagination Station take him back to Reverend Andrew? If it did, why didn't he come to rescue us? Every time a wagon drove up or someone knocked on the door, I kept expecting it to be him and Reverend Andrew. But he didn't show up.

I imagined him hanging out with the white folks, eating a lot of good food and being able to do whatever he wanted. It didn't seem fair. It
wasn't
fair. Just because the color of our skin was different didn't make it right for him to be better off.

Jonah was friendly the whole time, teaching us what to do. And he told us over and over to thank God for having it so good. That was hard for me to do considering all the work we did, but he said it was a lot worse on the other plantations. “Colonel Ross is a good and kind man,” Jonah insisted. “There's no better master in the area. He takes care of his slaves.”

“But we're
still
slaves,” I reminded him.

He simply wagged a finger at me and told me to watch my mouth. “It's going to get you in big trouble, you hear?”

I mumbled that what I said was still true.

“There's no other master who brings in a doctor for his slaves or puts them in such nice quarters and never uses the whip unless somebody really deserves it, and he even tries to keep the families together. No other master does that. But he does.”

I didn't say a word, but that last part he said about keeping families together gave me an idea.

After breakfast on the third morning (I think it was the third morning, but I lost count), Jonah was upset because one of the field slaves had been disobedient about his work. I guess he pretended to be sick and then was found later behind one of the sheds, goofing off.

Kinsey, the overseer, brought the slave to the back door. “Jonah! I don't have time to deal with him. You know what to do.”

“Yes, Master Kinsey,” Jonah said in a shaky voice.

I found out later that one of the reasons the field slaves didn't like the house slaves was because the house slaves were sometimes told to whip the field slaves.