A Desperate Road to Freedom Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  State of Virginia, United States of America

  January 1863

  April 1863

  May 1863

  June 1863

  July 1863

  August 1863

  September 1863

  October 1863

  November 1863

  December 1863

  January 1864

  February 1864

  March 1864

  April 1864

  Epilogue

  Historical Note

  Images and Documents

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Also Available

  Books in the Dear Canada Series

  State of Virginia,

  United States of America

  January 1863

  Saturday, January 10th, 1863

  Something is going to happen. I know it! But nobody will tell me anything.

  I’m sitting in a corner of Miss Marissa’s room in the Big House, scribbling on one of the scraps of paper she gives to me. She’s doing her embroidery and I’m just supposed to be keeping her company and running and fetching for her, but once in a while she lets me write, if she’s in a good mood. I’m thankful for that, but I can only do it here and I have to be real careful that nobody else sees me. If the Missus found out I could read and write I’d be whipped something fierce. Or worse. Us slaves aren’t allowed, but I’ve been sitting with Miss Marissa during her lessons the whole five years I’ve been her slave, and I can’t help but learn. Seems I pick things up even quicker than her, never mind she’s a white girl and I’m only eleven, not twelve like her. I can read better than her, and write better, too. She’d never admit that, of course, even if she does ask for my help sometimes when nobody else is around.

  I think Miss Emily, her teacher, suspects that I can read and write, and I think she secretly approves, even though she wouldn’t dare say so. Sometimes she looks hard at me when she’s explaining something, even when Miss Marissa isn’t paying a whit of attention, and gives me a little nod. I mind her good when she does that, even though I pretend I’m not. Figure it’s important.

  Got to be careful, though. I saw a girl from the next cabin over whipped when they found out she could read just a couple of words, and I still have nightmares about it. I keep seeing her back all cut and bleeding and getting bloodier and bloodier with every stroke of the cowhide. She screamed at first, then she just sort of collapsed. The overseer didn’t stop though, not him. Just kept on whipping and whipping until her skin was hanging off in strips. I swear he enjoyed it. He had a mean little smile going all the time he was doing it. She was sold off at the slave auction right after and I never saw her again.

  But I’m afraid about more than that. Mama is going around with her face all tight and squinched up and her mouth latched shut. I haven’t seen her so afflicted since the Master sold off Caleb and Daniel and Sarah. Papa won’t even look at me, and Thomas just about took my head off this morning over nothing at all. Little Joseph’s the only one acting normal, but that’s just because he’s so young.

  What is going on? My stomach is just plain sour with worry.

  Monday, January 12th, 1863

  I’m putting the date on the top of my writing like Miss Marissa does with her lessons. Miss Marissa didn’t want me to stay over tonight in the Big House, so I snuck my paper back to the cabin with me and found a hidey-hole behind the chimney where I can stash it. She only lets me have scraps that she’s messed up and doesn’t want any more, but I can still write on the back of them. Keeping a stub of a pencil there, too.

  It’s dangerous, what I’m doing. Can’t even let Mama know. She’d have my hide and throw the papers in the fire for sure. She wouldn’t understand. Don’t really understand myself why the writing’s so important to me, but it is. Especially now when everybody’s acting so strange.

  Tuesday, January 13th, 1863

  Something terrible happened last night. I was woken up by dogs howling and baying, and men shouting, then I heard noises that sounded like shots. I don’t know what went on, but nobody’s talking. I tried to ask Papa and he just shushed me up. The hands going out to the fields this morning weren’t singing the way they usually do. They just shuffled out, their faces all grim and their mouths shut tight.

  Don’t dare write any more. Got to hide these pages real good. Things are happening that I don’t understand.

  Wednesday, January 14th, 1863

  Well, I know now what happened the other night and I wish I didn’t. Bessie’s papa, Uncle Bo, tried to make free and they caught him. Shot him dead. Mama and Papa still aren’t telling me anything, but I heard Mama trying to console Auntie Sal. Even though Uncle Bo isn’t my real uncle, I still feel bad about it.

  Thursday, January 15th, 1863

  Heard something else about Uncle Bo, but it makes me feel so sick I don’t even want to think about it. Maybe if I write it down I can get rid of it. I heard Auntie Sal tell Mama they’ve got Uncle Bo’s body hanging from the big old hickory tree by the plantation gate. An example to the rest of us, she said. In case anybody else was of a mind to run. She was repeating my Mama’s name, “Selie, Selie,” over and over, and crying so hard I could barely make out what she was saying.

  With the war between the North and the South going on, and that Northern President Lincoln wanting all the slaves in the Confederate states here in the South to be free, slaves are running away more and more. Our Master’s off fighting and nobody’s tending this plantation too well. We’ve even heard gunshots and fighting right close around here. I suppose that’s why Uncle Bo thought he had a chance.

  Friday, January 16th, 1863

  Mama’s so twitchy she slapped Joseph. That’s not like her at all. Joseph’s going around whimpering, but not even Thomas is paying him any mind. And that’s not like Thomas, either. Spite of everything, Thomas usually has a smile and a joke in him for Joseph and me, but not now.

  There’s more going on than just grieving for Uncle Bo, I know it!

  WE’RE RUNNING!

  Not sure what day it is. I lost track.

  I can’t believe we’re running and we got away! So far.

  I got my scraps of paper and pencil with me, tucked down the front of my shift, and a rope tied tight around my middle to keep them safe. Wasn’t going to go without them. Writing when everybody’s asleep, though it’s barely light enough to see my pages.

  I’m scared!

  Too many strange noises outside.

  I keep thinking it’s the slave catchers with their dogs.

  Hands shaking too much to write anything else.

  Still don’t know what day it is, but I can write more now. We’re hiding in a barn. I had to wait till Mama and Papa and Thomas went to sleep before I could start, because I don't want anybody to know what I’m doing. This is the first chance I’ve had to collect myself and set down what’s happened. I still can’t really believe it!

  Seems Thomas heard tell they were going to sell him off, too, so he and Mama and Papa fixed to run. They didn’t dare say a word about what they were planning to do, especially after Uncle Bo got caught. Mama said they nearly backed out then, but the thought of losing Thomas was just too much to bear so they decided to go ahead and take the chance, terrible though it was. Mama said she would die if she lost another one of her children.

  I was too young to remember much about when my brothers Caleb and Daniel were sold off, but I do remember when they took our Sarah. We didn’t even know she’d been sold until the overseer, Mister Jones, cam
e busting into our cabin and grabbed hold of her one morning after Papa had left for his work in the stables and Thomas had left for the fields. “Master got a good price for this gal,” he said, and started to drag her out.

  Sarah let out a shriek and reached for Mama. Mama caught her and held on tight, but Mister Jones just yanked her away. Sarah was doing her best to keep hold of Mama, and Mama was crying and trying to hang onto her, but he pulled her out the door. When Mama rushed after them, another man pushed her back so hard she fell down. I was standing in the corner and watching the whole thing. I will never forget it. Couldn’t move. I was just froze with fear, but I remember I screamed out to them to leave my big sister alone. Didn’t do a mite of good. They took her off and we never saw her again. Don’t even know who they sold her to, but it couldn’t have been anybody around here or we would have heard.

  I know Mama and Papa are afraid Sarah and Caleb and Daniel were sold off to work in the cotton fields away down south. We’ll never hear more about them if they were. Even worse there than on a tobacco plantation like ours. Stories we hear say that slaves don’t last long down there. Work’s too hard and they die. I can’t bear thinking of it.

  I still miss Sarah and I always will.

  I reckon Mama and Papa didn’t say a word about running because they couldn’t count on Joseph to keep from talking, but I’m hurt that they didn’t trust me. First thing I knew about it, Mama was shaking me awake in the middle of the night, with her hand pressed over my mouth so I wouldn’t cry out or make a noise when I woke up.

  “Hush, Julia May!” she whispered at me. It was dead cold and she was all bundled up. She made me put on every scrap of clothes I owned, not that I have much, just my shift and a shirt and an old jacket that Miss Marissa gave me when she didn’t have any more use for it. All the while Mama was hissing at me to be quiet, but in spite of her rushing me, I hung back after she left the cabin and that’s how come I got my papers and pencil out. Papa was already outside with Joseph asleep in his arms and Thomas looking out, scared like. They were all bundled up, too, but shivering with the cold just as bad as me. It wasn’t just the cold, though. I knew what was happening so the shivering was from fear, too.

  We snuck behind the cabins and made for the trees. Mama and Papa had waited until there wasn’t a moon, so it was real dark. Middle of the night dark. I had to hang onto Mama’s skirts so as not to lose her. I heard an owl hoot somewhere and that scared me even more, but Papa just tilted his head to listen and then beckoned us.

  Once we got deep into the trees, there was a Negro lady waiting there for us. She had a walking stick in one hand and a bundle over her shoulder. Couldn’t see her too well in the dark, but she sort of waved the stick at us. “Follow me,” she whispered. “And hush your mouths good!”

  I shut my mouth but my heart was beating so hard I was sure you could hear it right up to the Big House. We followed her for the longest time. It was hard walking. I’d never walked in between the trees before and I kept tripping over roots and branches. I fell twice. The first time no one even noticed and I had to pick myself up quick and catch up with the others. I guess I was crying a bit, because Thomas hung back a little and grabbed my hand. The next time I tripped he caught me and pulled me up. He kept good hold of my hand from then on and that made me feel better. We none of us said a word, but I could hear Mama breathing hard. Once Joseph started to whimper, but Papa just turned Joseph’s face into his chest and muffled his noise. I was afraid he’d smother him, but it seemed to make Joseph feel better. Enough that he stopped his crying, anyway.

  Then we heard the dogs!

  Joseph’s fussing again right now. I’d better go to him. I’ll write about the dogs soon as I get another chance.

  It’s barely light enough to see my pages, but I can manage.

  Joseph was having a bad dream. I don’t wonder after what happened that day. He might be only five years old and not sure what’s going on, but he knows enough to be scared. I got him settled back down before any of the others woke up, but then I couldn’t sleep. Too many pictures in my head that I didn’t want to see.

  When we heard the dogs we all froze. Then the lady grabbed us and pulled us into some thick bushes and we huddled there, all holding onto each other. The bushes prickled something awful, but we none of us paid them any mind at all. We heard the dogs coming closer and closer, baying and howling just the way they were the night Uncle Bo got caught. Men were shouting, too. The noise was fierce and it was coming straight at us. I held my breath and prayed as hard as I could. I knew real well those dogs could smell us easy as could be in those bushes. All I could think of was Uncle Bo shot and hanging dead in that tree.

  When it seemed they were right about to crash into us, I started to cry. Couldn’t help it. I was so scared I even wet myself. Just as I closed my eyes and waited to feel those teeth tearing into me, I heard the dogs run past. Right past us! And then it sounded like they went crazy.

  “They got him!” someone cried. At the same time, I heard a man scream. The man screamed again. And again. I never in my life heard anything so terrible. I heard a shot, and the screaming stopped. That quiet was even worse than the screaming.

  We stayed huddled there together while the men called to the dogs, and went off, laughing and joking. Joseph was hanging tight to Papa and wouldn’t even look up. Papa kept soothing him and rubbing his back, telling him things were all right. Finally, the lady signalled to us to stay hidden while she made certain they had all gone. When she came back, she beckoned to us to follow her.

  “Safe now,” she said.

  But I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe again.

  We walked all night. By the time the sun started peeking down through the trees I was so tired I was leaning hard on Thomas. Just when I thought I couldn’t go one step farther, the lady stopped so quick we all nearly bumped into her. She told us to stay put, then she disappeared. Mama and Papa got worried, but she came right back and waved at us to follow her again. She led us out of the woods and across a little stump-filled sort of garden. There was a log cabin there, with a single candle burning in the window. A quilt hung over the porch railings and flapped a little in the morning breeze — somebody must have been home — but there wasn’t a sign of anybody around. The lady led us to a chicken coop at the back. I couldn’t believe it when she whispered to us to go in there!

  It was horrible! Chickens all around, the stink was something awful. Then she whispered that we had to stay in there all day till it got dark again and she left us.

  That was a truly terrible day. I swear those chickens hated us. They stared at us with nasty, beady little eyes and pecked anyone who came anywhere near them. We all just scrunched ourselves into one corner and tried to keep out of their way. We were tired to the bone but there was no sleeping in there. Besides, though we didn’t say a word about it, we none of us could forget what had happened in the woods. I knew what Mama and Papa and Thomas were thinking. It could happen to us. Any time. Easy as anything.

  A lady came in to collect eggs after a while, but she made like she didn’t see us. She was a Negro lady, too, but she looked like a farmer’s wife. She and her husband must have been free Negroes. Papa told me some do manage to make enough money to buy their freedom if they’ve got good masters who let them work for other people. Not our Master, though. He’s too mean.

  We pretended we didn’t see her, either. She got two eggs and then opened the coop door to let the chickens out. I thought she was going to say something then, but she didn’t. She just gave us a look and made a kind of soothing motion with her hand, then went out herself and closed the door again.

  We didn’t see anybody else for the rest of the day. The smell and the chicken dirt were pretty bad, but at least the chickens were gone. Joseph started playing around with the feathers and Mama started to fuss at him about the dirt on them, then stopped. I figure she was just glad to see him getting somewhere back to his usual self.

  We ran again s
oon as it was dark, and the next day we hid in a barn. That’s what we do, travel all night and then hide all day somewhere. The lady who helped us get away — she wouldn’t tell us her name — calls herself a Conductor. Seems we’re on a railroad! Underground Railroad she calls it. It’s not a real railroad, though. Just one safe place after another. Today we’re hiding in a white Quaker lady’s shed. Our Conductor told us that Quakers are people whose religion doesn’t believe in slavery. Sounds like a good religion to me.

  We’re in a barn again today. Walked all night and I am tired right down to my bones and freezing cold. Joseph couldn’t walk at all, so Thomas carried him. Thomas must be tired because he’s lying flat on his back and snoring up a storm now. Joseph’s curled up in his arms and snoring too, like a little echo.

  We’re headed for Fortress Monroe, our Conductor says. It’s a Union Army fort, right here in Virginia. It’s on the coast and it sticks right out into the ocean. The Union Army fortifide it on the land side and that’s how they managed to keep the Confederate Army from capturing it. Don’t know if that’s how to spell fortifide. It’s a new word for me. Heard Thomas say it.

  Thomas is real interested in army stuff so he was asking all sorts of questions about the Fortress, and I listened as hard as I could. They’re taking in escaped slaves there and calling them “contrabands of war.” The general at the Fortress says because Virginia seeseeded from the United States and is fighting on the Confederate side now, he’s got no call to send escaped slaves back to their masters. Our Conductor says there are hundreds of slaves getting shelter there. They call it the Freedom Fortress.

  I asked her how to spell seeseeded and she looked at me strange. I realized just in time that I shouldn’t be asking things like that so I shut my mouth up quick and I’m guessing how to spell it. Didn’t dare ask her how to spell fortifide either.