The Triumph of Grace (20 page)

Juba shoved his cot aside and kicked a plank out from the floor. He reached down and pulled open a trap door.

"Hide inside 'til de dogs be gone, den follow de tunnel to de outside," he said.

"You ever hear of a slave name of Caleb?" Samson said. "He be my brother."

"Git in de tunnel, or you be no one's brother!" Juba said.

Samson pushed himself into the clammy dirt hole, though it was barely wide enough for him to squeeze through, and Juba slammed the door shut on top of him. Samson wriggled his way down the tunnel until he could poke his hand through the brush and out into the open on the other side. He sank back into the tunnel to wait.

De slave catchers, dey don't never give up.

How long he lay hidden in the underground hideaway, Samson couldn't tell. Hours? Days, even? It felt like weeks! Several times he pushed the brush aside and poked his head out, but each time he heard the baying of the hounds, so he squeezed back in and waited some more.

When the howling at long last died away, Samson blinked out into the sunshine of bright daylight. He couldn't walk during the day, so he ducked back into the hole and waited for dark. Finally when he looked out, all was still and the sky was black. The moon had not yet risen. Ever so cautiously, Samson pushed the brush aside and twisted and pulled his way out of the tunnel. He got up on his knees on the solid ground and squinted out into the night darkness.

Nothing.

That is, he could
see
nothing, but Samson knew the slave catchers were still out there. Somewhere.

Dey don't never give up.

Then he heard the dogs. Samson stumbled through a thicket of trees and underbrush. He could see that he was not far off the road. His foot tangled in a winding vine, and he fell flat. Samson kicked at the tough weed and called down curses from the gods on it.

Samson stopped, grabbed at the vine, and gave it a hard jerk. The moon was just beginning to rise, and by its emerging light he clawed at the vine, following it along the ground. He ripped and pulled at it, until he had freed a long piece of the rope-tough plant.

Quickly, Samson shimmied a ways up a slender tree that grew alongside the road and tied one end of the vine securely around the trunk. He scurried down, ran across the road, and climbed up onto a rail fence on the other side. Tugging the vine taunt, he tied the other end to a low-growing branch of a huge tree that overhung the road. Samson jumped down and faded back into the thicket of trees.

By that time the moon was quite bright. Frighteningly bright, in fact. Samson sank down at the edge of the thicket and listened to the hurried clop, clop, clop of a fast-approaching horse. One of the slave chasers was on the road, apparently hot on Samson's trail.

Samson could see the rider. It was the slave catcher, and he had his gun on his saddle and a whip in his hand, and he was eyeing the ditch beside the road. When his neck hit the vine stretched tightly across the road, he didn't even have time to call out. The catcher hit the ground with a heavy thud, but his horse kept on running. The dogs did, too. Samson snatched up the slave catcher's whip and took off at a run.

The turned-over pot,
Samson decided.
It shore enough did sanctify de ground. It shore enough did bestow bravery and good fortune.

But with the one slave catcher down, the other would be that much more determined to claim the whole reward for himself. Samson knew that. If he made it to his brother now, they would both be chased down. Better to lay low for a while.Better to let the dogs forget his scent.

So Samson turned toward the last place any white man would ever want to go—the dark swamp.

D
awn broke earlier each day, and the sun stayed longer in the sky. The lengthening of days brought joy to John Hull's heart, for it meant more time for his reading lessons. It was important that he accomplish as much as possible before fall brought its endless work of harvest. After that, winter would be back with scarce hours of sunlight.

John grabbed the two-tined hay fork from just inside the barn and set to work. The past fall, he had cut the hay from the fields, and had bound and stacked it to cure. Now the hay was ready for the barn.

Over in the garden, between the barn and the house, Grace was at work. It pleased John to see how much pride she took in the great leafy expanse of collards and chard. She exclaimed over the tiny yellow blossoms on the tomato plants and carefully prodded the peas and beans to climb high on their poles.

Grace was a good slave. She worked hard and she never complained. Each day, she cooked him up a goodly diet—a combination of American food and African—okra and greens and squash, porridge and fatback and fish and chicken, fried bread and boiled eggs. She didn't fuss and she didn't talk back to him. Even more, she was a good and patient reading teacher.

And Joseph died, and all his brethren, and all that generation.

As they moved to the first chapter of the book of Exodus, John stumbled through more words than he was able to recognize.

And the children of Israel were fruitful, and increased abundantly, and multiplied, and waxed exceeding mighty; and the land was filled with them. Now there arose up a new king over Egypt, which knew not Joseph.

Together John and Grace read about the changing attitude of the Egyptians, about how they made slaves of the Israelites who had once been welcome guests in their land. They read of Moses—the baby hidden by his mother in the bulrushes, who grew up to demand that Pharaoh let the slaves go.

Let my people go, that they might serve me.

"This Moses," Grace said, "do you think maybe he was an African?"

"No," said John. "He was Hebrew. He was white."

"Are you certain?" Grace asked.

"Yes," said John. "I am certain."

They read about the plagues God sent when Pharaoh refused to release the slaves. And they read of the blood from the Passover lamb that all Israelite families were instructed to put on their door portal as a signal to the death angel to pass over their house.

For I will pass through the land of Egypt this night, and will smite all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgment; I am the LORD.

And they read the wonderful story of how Moses led the people out of slavery and into freedom. The Egyptians chased after them, of course, but God parted the Red Sea so that the Israelites could walk across on a pathway of dry land and not get their feet wet. The Egyptians tried to follow them, but they could not. They all drowned because the sea closed back up on them.

"Why does God not do that for us?" Grace asked. "Why doesn't he open up a path for slaves to walk away from here and go back home to Africa?"

Sometimes John Hull used a bit of his precious time to help a neighbor out, and sometimes a neighbor would come by and help him. Now and then, when the work was done, the men sat together at the table by the kitchen fireplace and enjoyed a neighborly talk.

"I wouldn't say all colored folks is depraved," Chase Ambrose remarked over his dinner plate at John Hull's house one afternoon. "That one of yor'n, for instance. She don't seem so bad. Makes you wonder, don't it: If a slave never were a slave, would they still act like a slave?"

"Hmmm," John said. "That I don't know."

Chase wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "You ever hear of one Benjamin Banneker?" he asked.

"No," said John. "Can't say that I did."

"Well, that right there is a very smart Negro man," Chase said. "Old Tom Jefferson himself wrote about him, either last year or the year before that. He said that colored man was so good at figuring out mathematics that he just might be as smart as a white man."

"Is that so?" said John. "Well, it could be. It could be."

John glanced up at Grace, who stared straight back at him.He quickly turned his eyes away.

"We should be able to finish the repairs on the barn by this afternoon," John said to his neighbor. "I do thank you kindly for all your help, Chase."

But his attempt to change the subject was not successful.

"Now Alf Stone, there's a savage for you," Chase said. "He is a beast to his slaves. Whips them for any little mistake. Alf lashes his Negroes something terrible."

"Unforgivable behavior," John said, shaking his head."Utterly unforgivable."

"Alf's brother in Atlanta beat his favorite house slave to death just for mouthin' off to him," said Chase. "Now, I must tell you, no one stands up for such behavior as that."

"I should think not!" said John.

"Excepting Alf, of course," Chase said. "When he told me about it, he was laughing. And laughing hard, too. Thought it was a right funny story, he did."

John said nothing.

"Speaking of Alf Stone," Chase said. "My Lily told me I was to ask if you plan to go to the dance he's holding at his house Saturday week."

"Yes," John said. "I haven't been out of the house since I went to Charleston. It should be a pleasant evening, I believe."

"That it should," said Chase. "Alf always puts on a good party."

John and Grace read about the land God promised to the Israelites. But always the people disobeyed. They read about kings that came and kings that went. Some were good and godly, but most were bad and evil.

I made you to go up out of Egypt, and have brought you unto the land which I sware unto your fathers; and I said, I will never break my covenant with you,
John Hull stumbled to read in Judges, chapter two, verse one.

"It seems that we have read that same verse so many times before," Grace said. "Why must God continue to remind the people of the same thing over and over? Would they really forget so quickly?"

"Perhaps it is more than just to make certain they remember," John said. "Maybe God wants to tell them to
do
something
because
they remember."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps they must first recall what happened and after that they must act differently
because
of what happened."

Grace continued to read with John, but it was clear that her mind was not on what they read. Finally John took out the faded red ribbon to mark their place and closed the Bible.But he did not get up to put it away in the drawer. Instead, he looked into Grace's face and asked, "What is it? What causes you such trouble?"

Grace stared down at her hands and sat in silence.

"I command you to speak!" John Hull said. But he immediately shook his head and wiped his hand across his face. "No, no. I do not command you. I ask you to speak freely. Please, Grace, tell me what is on your mind."

"The white man named Alf Stone," she said. She continued to stare at her hands. "The one who is so cruel to his slaves. The one who laughed when his brother beat his favorite slave to death."

"Yes, yes," said John. "Terrible, terrible business, that!"

"And yet, you accept Alf Stone's invitation to a party at his house. He does such a terrible thing, and you continue to treat him as your friend."

"Well . . . that," John said. "To attend his party is not at all to accept his actions. No, not in the least. You see, I accepted his invitation because I did not wish to offend his wife and daughter."

Grace looked up into her master's face.

"I do not say his actions are right, Grace. In fact, I say they are very wrong. I made that clear to Chase. But, you see, the way things are here . . ."

Grace's huge dark eyes fixed on John's hazel eyes.

"The way things are between colored folks and white folks, that is . . ." John said.

Grace continued to search his face.

"Not that I think it is as it should be," John continued, "but the fact is that down here, slave is slave and free is free."

A sadness crossed Grace's face, but still her eyes remained on her master's eyes.

"We live in a sinful world, Grace. Plenty of people deserve better from life than they get."

"Esther did," Grace said.

"Yes! Absolutely," John said. "That is my point exactly.Esther did deserve better, and so did Joseph. But plenty of people deserve worse than they get, too."

"Like Mister Alf Stone," said Grace.

"Well, yes," John said, although with less enthusiasm.

"I have seen that," Grace said. "Horrible people get rich by selling other people, and innocent children die."

John forced his eyes away from Grace. "I pray that we will see justice in the next world because we see precious little of it in this one," he said.

For many minutes, they both sat in silence. "Was Job a colored man?" Grace asked.

"No," said John Hull. "He was white."

"I think he was a colored man," Grace said. "Too much trouble in his life for a white man. Too much hurt for a white man. I'm certain Job was a colored man."