Escapes! (22 page)

It was time to go. They blew out the candles, and a sudden noise made them jump — was someone outside? Holding hands, they peeked out the cottage door. Everything was still. Silently they tiptoed outside and stood breathless, looking at each other. From now on they would be traveling apart most of the time — blacks did not sit next to whites on trains and in boats. Without speaking they clasped hands, and then left in different directions for the rail station. William headed for the railcar reserved for blacks, and Ellen, leaning on her cane, limped to the first-class carriage. In her new identity as a young planter called Mr. Johnson, she bought a ticket for herself and one slave for Savannah — their first stop. There was no going back now.

Inside the carriage, Ellen took a window seat and stared outside. Sit still, she told herself. Don't attract attention. As the train slowly chugged away from the station, she glanced around the carriage — and froze. Mr. Cray, an old friend of her master who had known her since she was a child, had sat next to her while she was looking the other way. Ellen fought the urge to bolt, and turned slowly back toward the window. Why had he said nothing? Maybe he hadn't recognized her yet. If he strikes up a conversation, thought Ellen, he'll be sure to know my voice. Desperate, she decided to pretend to be deaf.

Mr. Cray soon turned to her and said politely, “It is a very fine morning, sir.”

Ellen kept staring out the window. Mr. Cray repeated his greeting, but Ellen did not move. A passenger nearby laughed. Annoyed, Mr. Cray said, “I will make him hear,” then, very loudly, “IT IS A VERY FINE MORNING, SIR.”

Ellen turned her head as if she had only just heard him, bowed politely and said, “Yes.” Then she turned back to the window.

“It is a great hardship to be deaf,” another passenger remarked.

Mr. Cray nodded. “I will not trouble the gentleman anymore.”

Ellen began to breathe more easily — he hadn't recognized her! Her disguise had passed a difficult test, but she realized more than ever how wary she must be.

The train pulled into Savannah early in the evening. William was waiting for Ellen outside her carriage, and they headed next for a steamboat bound for Charleston. Once on board, Ellen slipped into her room and shut the door. What a relief to be alone! But some of the passengers grumbled to William that this was strange. Why wasn't his young master staying up and being friendly?

William hurried to Ellen's room and told her about the reaction. They couldn't afford to do anything suspicious. But she couldn't very well play cards and smoke cigars without giving herself away! Ellen thought quickly: William could go heat up the bundle of medicine for her face on the stove in the gentlemen's saloon, to make it look as if his master was ill and going to bed early. The men in the saloon complained loudly about the smell the hot herbs made and sent William away. But they seemed convinced that his master must be pretty sick!

Once Ellen had turned in, William went on deck and asked the steward where he could sleep. The steward shook his head — no beds for black passengers, slave or free. William's heart sank, but he said nothing. As expected, his journey was turning out to be very different from Ellen's! Weary, he paced the deck for a while, then found some cotton bags in a warm spot near the smokestack and sat there until morning.

At breakfast, the ship's captain invited Ellen to sit at his table, and he asked politely about her health. William stood nearby to cut Ellen's food, since her arm was in a sling. When he stepped out for a moment, the captain gave Ellen some friendly advice: “You have a very attentive boy, sir; but you had better watch him like a hawk when you get on to the North.”

A slave dealer sitting nearby agreed that William would probably make a run for it, and offered to buy him then and there. “No,” Ellen answered carefully. “I cannot get on well without him.”

Later up on deck a young southern officer warned Ellen that she would spoil her slave by saying “thank you” to him. “The only way to keep him in his place,” he declared, “is to storm at him like thunder, and keep him trembling like a leaf.”

I feel sorry for his slaves, thought Ellen. But from then on she remembered not to be so nice to William in front of people.

By now the boat had reached the wharf at Charleston, but when Ellen saw the crowd waiting for the steamer she shrank back. All those people — someone might recognize William. Or what if their owners already knew they had escaped and had sent someone to arrest them? She led William back to her cabin, where they waited nervously until every other passenger had left. At the last minute they stepped onto the empty wharf, and William ordered a carriage to take them to the best hotel.

When the innkeeper saw Ellen in her fine clothes and sling he pushed William aside and showed Ellen to one of the best rooms. Ellen would have loved to rest, but she knew the curious servants were expecting her downstairs for dinner. While she was led to the elegant dining room, William was handed a plate of food and sent to the kitchen to eat. Looking down, he saw that the plate was broken and that his knife and fork were rusty. William sighed but wasn't much surprised. He ate quickly and returned to wait on his “master,” not wanting to leave Ellen alone for too long. As he entered the dining room he tried not to smile — three servants were already fussing over Ellen, each hoping for a tip from such a fine gentleman.

Ellen and William had planned to take a steamboat from Charleston to Philadelphia — and freedom! But at the inn Ellen learned that the steamer didn't run during winter. Their only choice now was the Overland Mail Route. They could take a steamer to Wilmington, North Carolina, and catch the mail train there. Ellen tried to hide her disappointment. This was a longer route — and the longer their journey, the more chances of being caught.

There was no choice but to press on. The next day, William and Ellen headed for the crowded ticket office, where Ellen asked for two tickets to Philadelphia. The mean-looking man behind the counter looked up and stared at William suspiciously. Then he asked Ellen to register her name and the name of her slave in his book.

Ellen ignored his glare. She pointed to the sling on her arm. “Would you kindly sign for me, please?” The man shook his head and stubbornly stuck his hands in his pockets. William glanced around and saw that people had stopped to stare at them. The last thing they wanted was more attention.

Stay calm, Ellen told herself, and she was thankful for the dark glasses that hid her eyes.

She was about to speak again when she heard a voice call “Mr. Johnson!” Ellen spun around. The young officer she had met on the last steamer — the one who had told her not to be so polite to her slave — was pushing through the crowd. He patted her on the back and cheerfully told the ticket seller, “I know his kin like a book.”

At this the captain of the Wilmington steamboat, who had been watching silently nearby, spoke up. “I'll register the gentleman's name,” he declared, no doubt realizing that he was about to lose a passenger, “and take the responsibility upon myself.”

Once the steamer was on its way, the captain took Ellen aside to explain. They were always very strict at Charleston — you never knew when a sympathetic white person might try to help a slave run away by pretending to be his master.

“I suppose so,” Ellen said casually.

The next day they switched to a train for Baltimore. Once again, William rode in a separate car while Ellen sat in a first-class carriage, this time with a gentleman from Virginia and his two daughters.

“What seems to be the matter with you, sir?” the man asked her in a kindly tone.

“Rheumatism,” Ellen replied. He nodded and insisted that Ellen lie down.

Good idea, thought Ellen, the less chatting the better. The daughters made a pillow for her with their shawls and covered her with a cloak. While Ellen pretended to sleep, she heard one of them sigh and whisper, “Papa, he seems to be a very nice young gentleman.” Her sister added, “I never felt so much for a gentleman in my life!” When Ellen told William about it he laughed. They had certainly fallen in love with the wrong man!

Before leaving the train, the girls' father handed Ellen a recipe — his “sure cure” for rheumatism. Ellen didn't dare pretend to read it. What if she held it the wrong way? So she thanked him and tucked it in her pocket.

It was Christmas Eve as the train slowed to its stop at Baltimore, where they would switch to a train for Philadelphia. This was the last “slave port” on their journey, and Ellen felt more nervous than ever. We're so close now, she told herself. Only one more night to get through. She and William knew that people kept a keen eye out for runaways in Baltimore, to stop them from escaping into the free state of Pennsylvania. They could lose everything just in sight of their goal.

As usual, William helped Ellen into the first-class carriage when they switched trains. He was about to board his own car when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to face an officer, who asked sharply, “Where are you going, boy?”

“To Philadelphia, sir,” William answered humbly, “with my master — he's in the next carriage.”

“Well, you had better get him, and be quick about it, because the train will soon be starting. It is against the rules to let any man take a slave past here, unless he can prove that he has a right to take him along.” He then brushed past William and moved down the platform.

William stood frozen for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then he stepped into the first-class carriage and saw Ellen sitting alone. She looked up at him and smiled. He knew what she was thinking: they would be free by dawn the next morning. William struggled to keep his voice steady as he told her the bad news. Ellen's face fell. To be caught this close to freedom! She looked searchingly at William, but he was speechless. What choice did they have? Run for it now? They would be caught before they were outside the station. There was only one way — they would have to brave it out to the end.

Ellen led William to the station office and asked for the person in charge. A uniformed man stepped forward. Ellen felt his sharp eyes upon her.

“Do you wish to see me, sir?” she asked. The officer told her no one could take a slave to Philadelphia unless he could prove he was the rightful owner.

“Why is that?” Ellen demanded. The firmness in her voice surprised William. The officer explained that if someone posing as a slave owner passed through with a runaway, the real master could demand to be paid for his property.

This exchange began to attract the attention of other passengers. A few shook their heads and someone said that this was no way to treat an invalid gentleman. The officer, seeing that Ellen had the crowd's sympathy, offered a compromise.

“Is there any gentleman in Baltimore who could be brought here to vouch for you?”

“No,” said Ellen. “I bought tickets in Charleston to pass us through to Philadelphia, and therefore you have no right to detain us here.”