Ransom of Love (14 page)

Benjamin worked his tongue loose and said, “I am not from any plantation. I am not a slave.”

Ted laughed. “You’re not a slave? Well, black boy, what are you? President of a bank? If you’re a free blackie, then you’re carryin’ papers to prove it. Let’s see ’em.”

Benjamin set his jaw. “Just go away and leave me alone. I was not bothering you.”

“Of course not,” said Marv. “But you are a runaway. You haven’t shown us any emancipation papers. Now, just tell us which plantation you’re from, and we’ll take you safely back to your owner.”

“I told you,” Benjamin said, “I am not anybody’s slave. I have no owner to whom you can return me.”

“Then why haven’t you produced your papers?”

A dog was barking somewhere a few blocks away.

A hard, brittle anger flared up within Benjamin. These men could cause him to be caught by Thomas Green and his men if he didn’t get away from them. His breath was hot as he said, “You have no authority to demand that I produce papers. I am not a runaway from any plantation. You were on your way somewhere. Why don’t you just keep going and forget you saw me?”

Ted chortled. “Guess we’ll just have to take him to the constable’s office, Marv. Let the law find out who he belongs to, then collect our reward.”

“Okay. Let’s take him.”

As he spoke, Marv reached out and gripped Benjamin’s left arm. “Let’s go, boy.”

Benjamin yanked his arm free. “Do not touch me!”

Marv looked at his friend. “C’mon, Ted. Let’s wrap him up and deliver him to the law.”

As both men stepped closer to him, Benjamin knew he had only one choice. Marv was closest to him and was opening his hands to grab him.

Benjamin planted his feet and unfolded like a coiled spring, driving a rock-hard fist into the man’s face. The impact sounded like a flat rock falling into mud. Marv went down like a dead tree in a high wind, and Ted swung at the black man’s jaw. All he found was thin air. Then he was greeted with a sledgehammer blow that exploded something inside his head like a million pinwheels of stars.

As Benjamin stood over the men, he could see they were out cold. The breath was sawing in and out of his lungs, more from anger than exertion. Suddenly he was aware of another carriage coming along the street.

He grabbed both men by their collars and dragged them into the deep shadows of the alley. He flattened himself against the wall of
the building till the carriage had passed, then ran down the street the opposite direction and plunged into another alley.

After waiting there for a few minutes, he moved back to the street, looked both ways and crossed. He ran for two blocks and dashed into another alley as he saw a wagon approaching. He hid himself behind some large wooden crates and decided to stay there until the crack of dawn when he would make a run for it and get out of Charleston.

As he sat on the ground in deep shadow, Benjamin let his mind run back to the night he and his parents made an escape attempt from Cape Town, hoping to make it to Transvaal and live as free people. He told himself he would not fail this time. He would get away! And go where?

The thought tortured his weary mind. Where would he go? For sure, he would have to leave what he knew was the Deep South. Someone had told him that people in the north part of the United States were against slavery.

That is it!
he thought.
I will go to the North and live as a free man
.

When the last slave had been checked off aboard the
Berkeley
, Jim Lynch frowned and looked at his boss. “Mr. Green, I think when you had the crewmen count the sick ones in their cabins, they must have made a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re missing one person.”

“Can’t be,” said Green. “I’m sure my men counted the sick ones correctly. They did a double check while the ship was docking. Their tally has to be right.”

“Then how could we be missing one person? You stood right there and watched me check them off as they passed by. I know I didn’t make a mistake.”

“Who is missing?” Green asked.

“A nineteen-year-old slave named Benjamin.”

Green’s face stiffened. “Benjamin?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm. We had some problems with him on the way over. His parents died from the dysentery. Now that you mention it, I don’t remember him passing the checkpoint.”

“He sure didn’t, sir, or I’d have him checked off here on the list.”

Green rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’re going to have to make a thorough search of the ship. He’s got to be here somewhere. I want him found immediately.”

Jim Lynch hurried to the bridge and told Captain Kimball that Benjamin was missing. Kimball assembled his ship crew with Thomas Green’s crewmen, and they scattered throughout the ship. Almost a half hour had passed when they met on the deck. After covering every square inch of the vessel, they reported that Benjamin was not on board.

Thomas Green was furious. He ejected a string of profanity and said to his men, “He must be tracked down and caught immediately!”

“Mr. Green,” said Kimball, “I can’t let my men off the ship. We have to prepare to pull out by tomorrow afternoon.”

“All right, all right.” Then he said to Lynch, “Jim, we’ll have to use every available man in our crew. That low-down blackie has got to be caught!”

“Tell you what, Mr. Green,” said Kimball, “the best thing to do is go to the town constable’s office and tell the man in charge about Benjamin. You’ll catch him a lot faster if you have law officers after him who are familiar with the town and the area.”

Green and Lynch hurried through the streets of Charleston to the constable’s office. They found Lieutenant Howard Follett on duty, who was in charge of the office for the night. Green reported the runaway male slave and told the lieutenant he wanted law officers after him immediately.

“Now, calm down, Mr. Green,” Follett said. “It would be futile for us to try to run the slave down in the darkness. We’ll begin our search at dawn.”

“All right,” said Green, breathing hard. “My men will help you.”

The lieutenant shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, sir.”

“But it could speed up catching him.”

“You don’t understand, sir,” said Follett. “Chief Constable Mulvey would never allow your men to join us in the search. You have come here asking for our help. We will be glad to give it, but you must allow our officers to pursue the slave with no one to hinder us. If you would rather pursue him on your own, you are welcome to do it.”

Thomas Green cleared his throat and said, “No. I’ll let you do it. You will have your men begin searching for him at dawn, right?”

“Yes, sir. Now, I need a description of him. How old is he?”

“He’s nineteen.”

Follett wrote it down. “Approximate height?”

“He’s a good six feet. Maybe six-one. Very muscular. Broad shoulders. Slender waist. His name is Benjamin. When he is placed on the auction block, any plantation owner will be able to see immediately that he can do a tremendous amount of work in a day.”

As Follett was writing, Green said, “Lieutenant, it’s very important that Benjamin be caught. With his physique and stature, he’s my prime slave for the auction. Not only is he big and strong, but he speaks, reads, and writes English better than the average South African Negro by far. He will sell for top dollar. Do you understand what I’m saying? Slave trading is my business. It’s my living. I need this man caught.”

“Yes, sir,” said Follett. “We’ll catch him, sir. Now, where will we find you when we have him?”

“I’m staying at the Charleston Arms Hotel.”

“All right, sir. Now, you go get yourself a good night’s sleep and let us do our job.”

As dawn broke over Charleston, Benjamin moved about the alleys, trying to find something to eat. He could find nothing.

He had resigned himself to the fact that returning to South Africa was impossible. His only hope was to get out of Charleston and head north where slavery was not allowed.

He checked the position of the rising sun and worked his way northward. As he dashed from alley to alley and street to street, he was becoming more confused. It seemed he was getting no closer to Charleston’s north edge.

Benjamin was glad it was Sunday morning, for he had been told that all businesses were closed on Sundays in the United States. This would mean fewer people on the streets to see him.

When he reached an alley after darting a half block down a street, he saw two men in blue uniforms. They wore sidearms and carried long black sticks. They were standing at the mouth of an alley another half block away.

One of them spotted him and pointed him out to the other officer. Fear lanced through Benjamin’s heart like a cold blade of steel. Already puffing, he dashed into the alley he had been about to enter. He heard a shrill whistle and men shouting.

When he saw two more uniformed men appear at the far end of the alley, he skidded to a stop. They were coming on the run, shouting at him to halt. With the breath sawing in and out of his lungs, Benjamin wheeled to run the other way but froze in his tracks. The first two officers were hurrying toward him, guns drawn. One of them commanded him to stand still.

Sweat beaded on Benjamin’s brow as the four officers surrounded him. The first two made him place his hands behind his back and cuffed his wrists, then put shackles on his ankles.

“Now, blackie,” said one of them, “you’re going back to your owner.”

As all four officers ushered Benjamin along the street, one of them said, “So how’d you get off that ship, blackie?”

Benjamin gave him a sullen look. “I went overboard and swam to shore.”

“Took some courage to do that.”

“Not courage, officer … desperation.”

The officers looked at each other and shook their heads.

Moments later, the officers ushered their captive through the doors of the police station. Chief Constable Hugh Mulvey was in the office, talking to one of his men. When the men in blue came in with their prisoner, Mulvey smiled. “So you got him!”

“Yes, sir,” said one man. “You want him in a cell, I assume, until Mr. Green can come and get him?”

“Yes. Lock him up. Good work, men. Walters and Manning, you go to the Charleston Arms Hotel and tell Thomas Green we’ve got his runaway slave.”

As he was led to a cell with the chain clinking between his ankles, Benjamin clenched his jaws until they hurt.

In room 223 at the hotel, Jim Lynch was seated at a small table with his boss, giving him a report of the situation at the barn.

“Good work, Jim. I’m glad to know all is well.”

“The slaves had a good breakfast, too, sir. Even all of the sick ones were able to at least eat a little.”

Green smiled. “Very good! Maybe we’ll have them well real soon and can get them sold in a hurry.”

“I believe we will, sir.”

Green’s smile faded as he said, “Now my big concern is Benjamin. If they don’t catch him—”

A loud knock at the door cut into Thomas Green’s words.

“See who that is, Jim.”

Lynch hurried to the door and opened it to find two uniformed officers.

“Good morning, sir,” said one. “I’m Officer Reginald Manning, and this is Officer Henry Walters. Are you Mr. Green?”

“No, Officer. I’m his assistant. But Mr. Green is here. Please come in.”

Green was on his feet as the officers stepped into the room.

“I’m Thomas Green,” he said.

“Yes, sir. We have some good news for you, sir. We caught your runaway slave about a half hour ago. We have him in a cell at the station. Chief Mulvey sent us to let you know and to tell you that you can come and claim him anytime you wish.”

Green chuckled merrily. “Well, Jim, let’s go get him right now.”

“Yes, sir!” said Lynch, glad to see his boss so happy.

A hungry, dejected Benjamin heard voices in the hallway that led from the cell block to the office. He looked up as the door opened and saw the chief constable leading Thomas Green and Jim Lynch toward his cell.

Benjamin looked up as Green stepped to the bars and gripped them. “So! You thought you could get away from me, eh, Benjamin?”

Giving the man a doleful glance, Benjamin said, “I tried.”

Green’s eyes flashed with anger. “Let me tell you something, boy! I would have you severely flogged as punishment for your deed, but I don’t want any marks on your body. Tomorrow, you will bring me a good price at the auction.”

Later that morning, at the slave church on the Finn Colvin plantation, Ol’ Mose stood before his congregation and read them the words of the Lord Jesus Christ in John 8:36: “If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” He followed by reading them 1 Corinthians 3:13–14, explaining that it pointed to the judgment seat of Christ, where every Christian would one day stand:

“Brethren,” said the old man in his cracked voice, “this mornin’ I want to preach to you about the rewards that God’s born-again children will receive at the judgment seat of Christ for their faithfulness to the Lord while they were here on earth.”

Mose referred to John 8:36 first, pointing out that everyone within the sound of his voice who had received the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Saviour had been set free. They were no longer slaves to sin and Satan, but were free because of the precious blood of God’s dear Lamb.

Mose went on to explain that on earth, he and his hearers were slaves and had no riches; but by their faithfulness to serve the Lord while here, they would be rewarded generously at the Judgment Seat and would have eternal riches. During the rest of the sermon he tried to encourage every Christian to walk close to the Lord and serve Him faithfully all the days of their lives.

After the service, some of the slaves gathered around the old man, thanking him for the good sermon. One older woman said, “Ol’ Mose, we ’preciate you preachin’ straight to us. There’s no question in my mind that fo’ yo’ faithfulness in preachin’ the Word, and in bringin’ many souls to Jesus as a personal soul winner, you have great riches laid up in heaven.”