A Desperate Road to Freedom Read online

  I’ll see the ocean! Wonder what it’s like.

  In a shed again today. Rain coming in through the roof. Snow, too. Never been so cold and wet in my life. Our cabin back at the plantation was small, but it was better than this. We at least had a hearth there where we could make a fire to keep warm, and a wood floor, and Papa kept the roof fixed good so it wouldn’t leak. The floor here is mud right up to my ankles, mixed up with all kinds of dirt. I didn’t want to lie down in that muck and I guess I whined about it. Next I knew, Mama gave me a good slap on the back of the head and told me to hush up and lie down on the scrap of cloth she put out for me. Look on her face — I did it and did it fast. Didn’t like it though. Heard some dogs barking and that got me thinking scared again. Everybody else is asleep, so I tucked myself into a corner to write. There’s no windows in the shed, though, just a little crack in the wall, and I can’t really see too well, so I’m going to stop.

  Can’t get to Fortress Monroe. There’s fighting right between us and the Fortress. We’ve been hearing the guns all day while we’re hiding. Our Conductor says she’ll take us to the Great Dismal Swamp instead and we can wait there till the fighting dies down and it’s safe to go on. That’s a scary name, but Papa has heard of it and he says lots of escaped slaves are living in there and they’ll take care of us. The guns and noise make me want to hide my head under a pillow. Haven’t got a pillow, though.

  I wonder how Bessie is doing. I spent most of my time up in the Big House with Miss Marissa, but I did like to sit in the evenings sometimes with Bessie and listen to Uncle Bo play the mouth organ. His songs were often kind of sad, but I liked them anyway. He taught me to sing some with him, too. Said I had a right nice voice. I miss him, but probably not near as much as Bessie and her mama do. I still can’t think of what happened to him without a sick, horrible feeling in my stomach.

  I wonder what Bessie thought when she realized we got away? Wonder if she thought I had abandoned her?

  Mama is stirring. Got to hide these pages away now.

  Friday, January 23rd, 1863

  Can’t hardly believe it, but we’ve made it to Fortress Monroe, the Freedom Fortress! And I know what day it is.

  Actually, we’re not right inside the Fortress, but in a kind of camp just outside of it, on account of how many runaways have taken shelter here, and there are too many to fit in the Fortress itself. They call this the Grand Contraband Camp.

  There’s nothing very grand about it, though. There are so many people here we just got a corner of a cabin for ourselves and we share with another family. Other family’s name is Ross. There’s a mama and a papa and four children, all younger than me. Makes the cabin kind of crowded, but it’s still better than the chicken coops and barns we’ve been hiding in.

  Some white ladies here from something called the American Missionary Association took us in when we got here. I know how to spell that because the name is written on the packs they carried with them. They showed us where we could live, even gave us some clothes and little bags with a towel, a comb, a bar of soap and a toothbrush in each one of them. A toothbrush! Imagine! Don’t know anybody other than Miss Marissa who ever had a special brush just for their teeth. They even gave Joseph one and he immediately started in to brushing his hair with it until I made him stop and showed him how to use it proper. I got a clean dress. It’s got a few rips in it, but it’s got red flowers on it and it’s pretty. A lot nicer than that itchy linsey-woolsey shift Missus Jackson gave me to wear. And they gave me a warm coat. I do appreciate that! Marissa’s old jacket is pretty thin. We got food, too.

  They got a school here for us colored people — children and grown-ups. Teach them to write. I had to bite my tongue when she told us that, not to let on that I already knew how. Maybe they won’t let me go if they know.

  We were so happy until one of the ladies started in on warning us about slave catchers. Seems we should be safe here, but because we’re outside the walls of the Fortress, the soldiers can’t keep good track of who gets into the camp. Some slave catchers got in about a month ago and grabbed a man. Got him out before anyone could call up the soldiers. Mama didn’t like the sound of that at all, but Papa says we’ll be fine. Hope he’s right. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if they caught us and carried us back to our Master. We’d all be whipped, that’s certain, except maybe for Joseph. He’s too little. Surely they wouldn’t whip him. But they might even hang Papa or Thomas like they hung Uncle Bo!

  Another worry was that Mama, Papa and Thomas had to find work and earn some money, but there are so many runaways here that there aren’t many jobs to be had for new people. We can’t keep on taking stuff for free, though, no matter how kind the Missionary ladies are. There’s a market here on Saturdays where people sell vegetables they grow, and all kinds of other things, and we have to be able to buy what we need. Believe it or not, Joseph solved the problem. Not that he meant to, though.

  That boy is always up to something — usually trouble — and this time it was no different. He snuck off when I wasn’t watching him and decided to go across the bridge over to the Fortress. Course he’s not supposed to do that at all, and of course he fell off. First thing we knew of it, a soldier brought him, all dripping wet, back to the cabin. Mama was fit to be tied and Papa was all set to give him a good licking, but the soldier, name of Ben, just laughed and begged Papa not to. Said he’d fished Joseph out with no trouble at all — he’d just fallen down into the shallow water between the wall and the shore, and Ben hadn’t even got more than his boots wet getting Joseph out. Papa relented, but now I’m in trouble for not keeping a better watch on him. That isn’t one bit fair.

  Anyway, Thomas got to talking to Ben and seems like they hit it off real good, even though Ben’s a white boy. Next thing we knew, Ben had fixed it so that Mama got some washing to do for him and some of his friends and Papa got a job helping out in the stables on account of he worked with horses back at the plantation and he’s got a way with them. Ben took him down to the stables to see about getting some work there and Papa calmed down a mare so nervous she wouldn’t let anybody else near her. The captain there was real impressed.

  Mama got to be a fine laundress from all the washing and ironing she did at the Big House, so she’s pleased to have work here, too. Thomas keeps busy doing whatever little job comes up with the soldiers, even if it’s just running errands and taking messages, and he earns a bit of money that way.

  I’ve seen the ocean now. I never knew there could be so much space just dedicated to water! I stood on the shore staring and staring at all those waves moving in and moving out until I got as spellbound as a mouse about to be gobbled up by a snake. Water’s full of salt. That’s true. You can’t drink it at all. Imagine that!

  Even though I was supposed to stay and mind Joseph, and I didn’t want to get into any more trouble, I managed to get away long enough to find a place to write all this out. The words were just filling me up until I had to get them set down or bust. Joseph made friends with the little boy from the family we’re sharing with, named Abe, and Missus Ross said she’d mind him, so I’ve been out exploring around. Keeping a pert look-out for slave catchers.

  Found myself a huge big tree just made for climbing and sitting in and that’s where I am now. Leaves hide me and nobody can see me. Because he knows I’m going to go to school, Thomas got me an old scribbler, thanks to his friend Ben again. It’s been used before, but there’s still lots of room left to write in it.

  First off I’ll write about the Great Dismal Swamp.

  We got there in the dark of night. Our Conductor handed us over to the biggest colored man I’ve ever seen in my life. He was just huge. Had a mass of grey hair and a great, bushy white beard — looked like a big bear looming up there in the darkness, but he spoke gentle. Told us to follow exactly in his footsteps, otherwise we might fall into the swamp and drown. He was right, too. I slipped a bit and went into slimy, cold water right up to my knees. Papa haul
ed me out quick and I was more careful after that. So cold, though, I couldn’t help shivering. And scared. I heard owls hooting and other slithery noises that I didn’t even want to think about. Worse even than dogs. I asked if there were any snakes there and the man just laughed. “Lots of snakes, girl,” he said. “You just keep close behind me.”

  The trees hung over us and closed us in on all sides. Running through the woods was bad enough, but you couldn’t run in that swamp, there were too many vines and tree roots and bushes. Pretty well had to fight our way through them. I was sure the vines were snakes and worried they might jump down on me, but the man just laughed again. Said no snake was going to fall on me out of a tree. Bite my ankle more like. I walked even closer to him than before. Mama followed me, then Thomas carrying Joseph, and Papa came on behind. Thomas kept stumbling and I was scared he’d fall, but he managed. Don’t know what we’d do without Thomas.

  Can’t write any more. Hear Mama calling. She sounds provoked. I better hightail it back.

  Saturday, January 24th, 1863

  I was afraid Joseph had got into mischief again, but thank the good Lord he hadn’t. Mama just wanted me to help with the washing. Got some more time to myself now. Joseph and Abe are playing and Missus Ross doesn’t let them out of her sight for one moment. It’s good of her to do that, because Abe’s a little imp just like Joseph and the two of them together are a handful. I’m up in my tree. So funny. People walk right by under me and got no idea a girl is sitting up here high above them.

  Missionary lady says I can start going to the school next week. My stomach is all twisty with the thought of it. But for now I’ll go on with my story.

  We finally got into a kind of camp, way deep in the swamp. The man showed us a tarp stretched between two trees to make a kind of shelter and we huddled there. It was awful cold. We none of us slept that night, but next morning the man — never did find out his name — built up a fire for us. While we were warming ourselves, two other men came out of the trees with a bucket of catfish. They fried them up over the fire and shared them with us. I was so hungry by then that those fish tasted better than anything I ever ate in my life. Fried crispy brown and dripping with grease — oh, my stomach is cramped up just thinking about them.

  We stayed there all the next day and I forgot to be scared and almost got to enjoying myself. The camp was on a kind of island with swampy water on most sides of us and there were so many birds. I loved watching them. One of them was singing real pretty. There were other shanties around us and about fifteen or twenty people living there. No other children, though. The people were kindly, but sort of holding back. Guess they knew we were just sheltering there for a bit and would soon be moving on. Not like them. They’re escaped slaves who have chosen to live in there rather than try to get to the Fortress. Free spirits, Papa calls them. Suits them, I suppose, but it must be a hard life. I heard someone moaning in the shack next to us and a woman came out looking worried. When I asked what was the matter, she just hardly looked at me and muttered “snake bit.” I didn’t ask more. I most decidedly wouldn’t want to live there.

  We left that night and got here to the Fortress two days later. I’ll write more about how it is here tomorrow. Time to get back now.

  Sunday, January 25th, 1863

  Today’s the Sabbath, so we went to church this morning. There’s a little chapel inside the Fortress. I saw it when I climbed up on the walls, but that’s just for the soldiers and the white folks. A minister from the American Missionary Association holds services for us Contrabands in the school here. It doesn’t feel much like a church, and the service was sort of boring, but we gave thanks for reaching safety, anyway. We truly do have a lot to be thankful for. I said a special prayer for Caleb and Daniel and Sarah. It’s hard to let ourselves be happy here when we don’t know where they are or what’s happened to them.

  There wasn’t much singing, and I like singing, but I got to look around the school and imagine what it will be like when I go there. It’s just one big room with benches all along the edges. A table at the front. The Missionary minister stood there today, but I reckon the teacher stands up there when they’re using it as a school. There’s a big blackboard up behind the table. Guess they write on that with chalk. There was something written on it, but it had been scrubbed out and I couldn’t make out what it said. A big cupboard on one side, and a big round sort of ball with colored markings on it on a stand beside the table. The floor was scrubbed so clean it looked almost white.

  I can’t believe I’m going to be able to go to school there! I can’t wait! I wonder if they got books in that cupboard. I would love to read a book all the way through from front to back. Marissa had books, but she never bothered much with them. I wasn’t allowed to touch them, but sometimes I got peeks at what was in them before she closed them up. It was like having a candy sweet held out in front of me, then snatched away.

  Back to my story.

  The night we left that Great Dismal Swamp, one of the men from the camp led us back to the edge of the swamp and another man was waiting for us there. Said he was our new Conductor. He carried us here to the Fortress. We travelled at night and sheltered in sheds and barns as usual during the day. Got here in the middle of the night, cold and miserable. It was snowing hard.

  I am so happy to be here. Our little cabin may be crowded, but we got a fire and it’s warmer than being out in the woods under a tarp.

  Monday, January 26th, 1863

  I shouldn’t have written that last bit. We aren’t staying! Just when we got somewhere safe, after all that running, we aren’t staying! Mama’s fretting and even Papa’s worried, and not just about the slave catchers. Thomas doesn’t talk about anything but the soldiers and the war and the battles that are going on all around us. We are the only Union Army fortress this far south and we are surrounded by the Confederate forces, he says. Seems to get him all excited to think of it. He even said he wished he could fight like the soldiers. But Papa is afraid they will attack this Fortress and what will happen then? If they take it, we’ll all be sent back to our masters and we know what they will do to us. Mama and he talked all night last night and we’re going to run again. This time, Papa says, we’re going all the way to a place called Canada. That’s another country altogether, away up to the north, where everybody is free. No slaves at all! No slave catchers! Can’t imagine that.

  Thomas says he can arrange for another Conductor to meet us and carry us there. That Underground Railroad we were on goes all the way up, he says. The soldiers told him so. We’ll be running again, and there will be dogs …

  I don’t want to go! I even made a big fuss about it — something I hardly ever do. I cried and stomped my feet until Mama got angry with me. Didn’t make a whit of difference. We’re going anyway.

  I won’t be going to school. Knew it was too good to be true. And it’s going to be dangerous to write again. If I even get a chance. I don’t want to get anybody else in trouble, and they would be if these papers were ever found, but I NEED to write.

  We’re running again. Just like before. Worse though, because we were safe for a while and it felt so good. We’ve been running and running. Nothing to do but move on at night and sleep in barns or sheds during the day, and eat whatever scraps our new Conductor finds for us.

  Yesterday we had to sleep out under the trees and it was terrible. Rained hard, with some snow in it. The clothes the ladies in Fortress Freedom gave us are getting ragged and our shoes are nearly worn out. I do appreciate that coat, though. I’ve fallen down so many times I can’t count how many bruises I have on my arms and legs. Joseph stumbled into the branch of a tree and he got a huge big welt all down one side of his face. We were near freezing to death, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Out there, with no walls around us, I expected to be pounced on by some kind of wild animal any minute. I snuggled up to Joseph and held him so tight he squirmed away and told me to let him be. Felt so scary, being out in the daylight. We were hid good,
but I kept expecting someone to discover us.

  Our Conductor found us a barn to sleep in today, but I’m going to write this down first. Mama and Papa and Thomas fall to sleep soon as they lie down, so does Joseph, but I can’t. Keep thinking and thinking about things. Just after we left Fortress Freedom we passed a burned-out plantation. The house shone white in the dark, but when we got close we saw it was all burned-out inside. Vines already starting to grow around it and the garden was full of weeds. It was so quiet and lonely looking. Spooked us all. Wonder where the folks that used to live there are now? Wonder where their slaves are? Wonder what’s happening to everybody back at our plantation?

  We had to cross a big river on a raft. We all got soaking wet and it was scary. The night was calm and quiet — good for the crossing on that rickety old raft, but not good so far as making noise was concerned. Our Conductor warned us not to make a sound, and we didn’t, but I was sure someone would hear the noise of our paddle. Lucky our Conductor is a big strong man and he got us across quick.

  I fell down again today while we were climbing up a hill covered in loose, scraggly rock. Skinned both knees right over some old scabs that had just started to heal, and they bled all down into my shoes. Mama bandaged them up when we got here with some old rags, but I got so many hurts now, a few more don’t make any difference. We all do, so there’s no use making a fuss about it. Mama’s feet are so blistered she can’t wear her shoes, just fixes more rags around her feet and keeps her shoes tied by their strings around her neck. She never says a word about the pain, so I figure I can hush my mouth about my bruises, too.

  I hate this! Mama is so thin her eyes look like they’re staring out of her head. Thomas and Papa’s faces are so grim their mouths are just solid lines, and their eyes are wary all the time. Looking round, trying to see everything at once. Little Joseph has stopped talking. That’s not like him. He’s just getting quieter and quieter and skinnier and skinnier. Hardly anything left of him at all.