The Underground Railroad (7 page)

“Good for you,” I said. “I've been reading about George DeBaptiste, too.”

“Did you find out anything about the wagon or the town of Madison, Indiana?” Tamika asked.

“I did. Mr. DeBaptiste was a barber in Madison. But he also owned a wagon that was used for making deliveries around town,” I answered. “This wagon was specially made so that it could look like it was badly broken.”

“Why would anybody want a wagon that only looked broken?” Tamika asked.

“That's the cool part about it,” I replied. “When Mr. DeBaptiste would get word that a group of escaped slaves needed help, he would break the wagon. With the help of a local blacksmith, the wagon and his horses would be locked up in a stable. Just like we saw with the professor, just before the runaways would arrive, the wagon would be repaired and carpet would be put on the horses' hooves. Escaped slaves would be carried away on the wagon as it moved quietly through the night to the next stop on the Underground Railroad. The next day, the wagon would be repaired and the horses would no longer have carpet on their hooves.”

“Wow!” Tamika said. “That's why he wanted to have a wagon that looked broken. He had it made that way so people wouldn't think he was helping slaves escape.”

“Right,” I said. “Even though George DeBaptiste was very crafty, many people suspected him of helping slaves. There was even a $1,000 reward for his arrest. That was a whole lot of money back in those days.”

“I know,” said Tamika. “That's one of the big reasons he moved to Detroit. Many people from Kentucky wanted him arrested or killed.”

“Have you learned anything about the town of Madison, Indiana? That was a part of the project, too.”

“I've found some stuff about it,” Tamika answered.

“Like what?”

“Well,” Tamika began, “I learned that free African-Americans settled in what is known as the Georgetown District of Madison in the 1800s. Many of them were very active in the Underground Railroad. One man who helped slaves escape was a blacksmith.” Tamika hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I wonder if that was the man who went into the barn to fix the wagon and put carpet on the horse's hooves.”

“Could be,” I said. “What else did you find out about Madison, Indiana?”

“Well,” Tamika began, “the Georgetown District in Madison is about five blocks away from the Ohio River. So that made it a perfect place to help hide runaways.”

“I read about the Ohio River, too,” I added. “Slaves who escaped used the river to cross from southern slave states into the North. Several different cities along the Ohio helped runaways, like Cincinnati and Ripley, Ohio, Madison and Evansville, Indiana, and lots of other places. I even found out that many slaves crossed the river in wintertime, because in some years the river froze solid enough to cross it on foot.”

“One book the professor gave us said that some slaves crossed the Ohio River on steamboats and rowboats,” I added. “People who fought against slavery even placed small boats along the banks of the river on the Kentucky side so that slaves could use them to escape.”

“That was really smart,” Tamika said. “What about you, Jesse? Did you find any other information about Madison?”

“I got on the computer with my mom and found some sites about Madison, Indiana,” I answered. “But you can't always trust things that are posted on the Internet. So I'm going to the library tomorrow to see if I can find more information about the town.”

“What time are you going?” Tamika asked. “Maybe I can meet you there. We can work on our report together. Do you think we can have it done in time to see the professor on Tuesday?”

“I hope so,” I said.

We agreed to meet at the library the next day. After I hung up, I thought about my friend Tamika. She had never liked reading and writing very much in the past. Before long, I'd find out more about Tamika that would surprise me.

T
amika and I showed up at the professor's office right after school on Tuesday. His door was cracked open a bit, and we could see him inside. He was sitting at his desk humming a tune and typing something into his laptop. We knocked gently, and he greeted us with a smile.

“Ah, it's you two,” he said. “Did you finish your report?”

“Yes, we did,” I answered. Tamika just nodded her head. I handed over the paper we wrote and the books the professor let us borrow. He placed everything on top of his desk and didn't even look at the report.

“Aren't you going to read it?” Tamika asked.

“Not right now,” Professor Tuesday answered. “I want you to tell me what you learned about George DeBaptiste and the city of Madison, Indiana. That way, I'll get a better idea of what you have learned.”

We talked about what we read and where we got the information for our report. Well, actually, I did most of the talking. Tamika was her old quiet, shy self. She usually spoke only when she was spoken to. I mentioned how I did some research on the Internet, but I checked it by going to the library. We talked about the books the professor let us read. Then the professor started asking questions.

“What interested you most about George DeBaptiste?” he asked.

I looked over at Tamika. She had done most of the research about Mr. DeBaptiste. But she just looked back at me without saying a word.

“Well,” the professor said, “was he just a barber?”

“No,” Tamika replied in a whisper. She looked down and scraped the toe of her shoe along the floor. “I don't know what the most interesting thing about him was.”

“Then tell me what you do know about George DeBaptiste,” the professor said as he leaned toward her.

“He was a black man who was born a free man in Virginia and was trained to be a barber. I read somewhere that he worked for a guy who gambled. They traveled all around the country, including into the Deep South where slavery was very big at the time.”

“What else did he do?” the professor asked.

“Well, like you told us before, he got married and moved to Madison, Indiana. Mr. DeBaptiste opened a barbershop at the corner of Second and Walnut Streets in the Georgetown District of town.”

I could tell that Tamika's confidence was growing with each answer she gave.

“What can you tell me about the Georgetown District?” the professor continued.

I spoke up. “It was a part of town that was settled mostly by free African-Americans. Many of them helped runaways escape from slave states. From what I read, much of the Georgetown District is preserved in Madison, Indiana. I'd like to visit there someday and see some of the areas that were part of the Underground Railroad.”

Tamika interrupted before I could go any further. “I don't get it. Why did they call it the Underground Railroad when it wasn't underground? And it wasn't a railroad, either.”

Professor Tuesday smiled broadly, “Those are very good questions. Some claim that the term ‘Underground Railroad' was first used in 1831 when a slave escaped from Kentucky and crossed the Ohio River. When his owner crossed the river, the slave was nowhere to be found, and no one would admit to having seen him. It was as if the escaped slave had completely disappeared. His frustrated owner was known to have said that the slave ‘must have gone on some underground railroad.'”

Professor Tuesday thought for a moment. “‘Underground' is a word that has more than one meaning. It can mean something that is under the surface of the earth, like a buried treasure. It can also mean something that is concealed, illegal, hidden, or secret.” The professor took his glasses off and cleaned them with a tissue—first on one side then the other—as he continued. “Another thing … back in the mid-1800s, railroads were becoming a popular form of transportation in America. So it made sense to think of someone who disappeared as traveling on a secret or hidden railroad.”

“Oh, I get it,” I said.

“The Underground Railroad was nothing like a real railroad, though,” Professor Tuesday added.

“What do you mean?” Tamika asked softly.

“Well, for one, a railroad train can only go where the track takes it. It can't veer right or take a different direction. The Underground Railroad was actually more like a network or spider web. If one route was blocked or slave catchers were in the area, runaways could be taken on a different route to avoid capture. However, the name, Underground Railroad, caught on and spread rapidly. Even people who helped those who escaped took on railroad terminology and names.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“I think they used railroad words like depot, conductor, station, passengers, and stuff,” Tamika answered in a whisper.

“Correct!” the professor said. “Correct!”

“So George DeBaptiste was a conductor on the Underground Railroad?” I asked.

“Yes,” the professor answered, “he was one of the most famous conductors along the route from the south and up into Canada.”

“Where do you think Mr. DeBaptiste's wagon was taking the slaves?” Tamika asked.

“Well,” the professor said, “there's no way of knowing for sure, but I have a hunch about where they were heading.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Let that be my surprise for next Tuesday,” the professor answered. “We will be going to visit the ‘president' of the Underground Railroad.

“Good, I like surprises,” I said. Tamika was quiet. I wondered silently if she didn't like surprises for some reason.

I
was supposed to meet Tamika at the professor's office on Tuesday at 6:00 p.m. When I got there, I waited outside on a bench in the hallway. A big clock on the wall ticked away the seconds and minutes. My friend hadn't arrived yet. At quarter after six, there was still no Tamika. I started getting mad when the clock hit 6:30. Just as I was gathering my stuff to leave, I could see my friend coming down the hallway. She looked upset.

“Why are you so late?” I asked. I wasn't happy, and I think she could tell. “I thought we were going to meet here at 6:00?”

“I'm sorry,” she answered. “But I don't know if I can do this anymore.”

“Can't do what anymore?” I asked.

“This … you know, researching the Underground Railroad.”

Now I was really mad. “You have got to be kidding me. This was all your idea. You were the one who wanted to study the Underground Railroad. I came along because you were too shy to visit Professor Tuesday by yourself. Then last week, you were all excited about George DeBaptiste. For the first time, I thought you were interested in reading and learning. Now you tell me that you don't want to do this anymore?”

A tear tumbled down Tamika's face.

“Are you scared?” I asked. Tamika slowly nodded her head. Then I got a little impatient. “There's no reason to be afraid. We are perfectly safe using the professor's Critter Cam.”

“I've been having bad dreams.”

“Bad dreams? What kind of bad dreams?”

My friend wiped the tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “I've been dreaming about runaway slaves and the awful things they faced. It's terrible. The dreams are really scary.”

All of a sudden I felt bad about being angry with Tamika. I walked over to my friend and gave her a hug. “If you want to quit studying about the Underground Railroad, it's okay with me. I'll go into the professor's office and tell him that all of this is just getting too frightening for us.”

“No,” said Tamika quietly. “I didn't want to come at all tonight, but my mother told me that I need to be brave and keep learning.” Tamika looked down at her feet as she continued. “I'm sorry about tonight. I didn't mean to leave you here wondering if I was going to come or not.”

“It's alright, Tamika, we'll be fine. I promise.” I took her by the hand and we walked together into Professor Tuesday's office.

The professor glanced up from some papers he was correcting. He took a quick peek at his watch and gave us a funny look. “You two are a little late, aren't you?”

“Sorry, professor,” I said. “We'll be on time from now on.”

“No problem,” answered Professor Tuesday. “I've been correcting some papers that my students have written. I could use a little break right now. Do you want to learn a bit more about the Underground Railroad?”

“Yup,” I said. “You told us that we were going to meet the president of the Underground Railroad and that our destination was to be a surprise.”

“You have a very good memory,” the professor chuckled. “We are going to Newport, Indiana, in 1846.”

“What's there?” Tamika asked quietly.

“We are going to be visiting the home of Levi and Catherine Coffin,” the professor answered. “Levi was the man who became known as the ‘President of the Underground Railroad.'”

I noticed a big map of the United States on the wall behind the professor's desk. “Can you show us where Newport, Indiana, is located?”

“I can and I can't,” answered the professor.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

The professor stood up and pointed to a place on his map that was in Indiana, close to the Ohio border. “Newport, Indiana, was incorporated as a city in 1834. In time, the townspeople discovered that there was a lake under the city.”

“A lake under the city?” I asked.

“That's right,” the professor replied. “You can drive a pipe into the ground in that area and water will come bubbling right up. When the people discovered that, they changed the name of the town from Newport to Fountain City.”

“No way,” I said.

“Way!” Professor Tuesday said with a big smile.