Railroad of Courage Read online

  Snow kept falling, making high drifts on the ground. Mister Thomas said we would be safe travelling by day in the midst of the snowstorm. After a train with a snow plow passed by, we would follow on the handcars, not too close, but not too far back. We would have to work hard to keep pace with the train.

  We had been waiting in the shed only a short time when we heard a loud whistle. The ground shook and I was frightened. Mister Thomas opened the door a crack so we could look out. A big black steam engine was coming down the track, its plow pushing the snow aside and making two long furrows on either side of the rails.

  Mister Thomas shouted, “Time to move!”

  Moses and the men started pumping the handcars. Sparks flew up from the engine’s smoke stack and reminded me of the sparks that had risen from the steamboat. The snow kept falling and we kept moving. After a while, the train seemed to go faster or, maybe we were slowing down as Moses and the men were getting tired. Mister Thomas said, “The snowstorm seems to be ending so we’ll have to go back to travelling at night. We’re coming to Paducah Junction and we’ll stop there. When the sun sets, we’ll get back on the cars. We should be able to reach Joliet by daybreak tomorrow.”

  Moses looked at Mister Thomas. “What is the plan after we reach Joliet?”

  Mister Thomas said, “You have three choices. You could take the handcars to Chicago, but the spur line ends in Joliet so you’d have to go on the main track. Or you could ride the Chicago and Alton Railroad as regular passengers with forged papers saying you are freed slaves. You’d have to hope bounty hunters wouldn’t look too closely at the papers. The third choice is to get the Reverend Deacon Cushing to drive you to Chicago in a wagon.”

  Moses laughed. “I think we have only one choice, not three. We’ll go with the Reverend Deacon Cushing. These handcars have served us well and I don’t want to complain, but my arms are pretty sore. As for riding the Chicago and Alton Railroad, I’m afraid the bounty hunters could be riding that train, too.”

  She explained to my family and me, “The Reverend Deacon Cushing is a minister who was arrested and put in jail for helping runaways. The laws of the United States say that a man can’t be kept in jail for too long without a trial. The county lawyer wanted the Reverend to spend the rest of his life in jail, but that lawyer was lazy and he took a long time preparing for the case. So much time went by that the judge had to set the Reverend free.”

  We set off again and my ma and I took a short spell pumping the levers. I welcomed the chance to work because it made me warm, but my arms soon ached, and I was grateful when Mister Thomas took the lever again.

  The snow had stopped and the clear, cold sky was filled with stars. The North Star looked closer and brighter than ever before; it gave me hope. Through the cold night, I whispered to myself, “I hope my courage will last from midnight to dawn, from slavery to freedom.”

  At daybreak, we pulled onto a siding outside the town of Joliet and hid in a shed while Mister Thomas went to find the Reverend Deacon Cushing. Soon I heard voices. We opened the door, looked out and saw Mister Thomas and another man. Two brown horses pulled a wagon. The horses snorted and pawed the snow on the ground.

  Mister Thomas said, “This is the Reverend Deacon Cushing.”

  The reverend was a short, round man with a long white beard. He said, “I’ll be your conductor from here to Chicago. I’ve put food and blankets there for you, but you’ll have to hide under the canvas. I’ll drive you to Chicago, to the home of Philo Carpenter.”

  Before we set off, Mister Thomas said, “It’s time for me to say goodbye. I am needed back in Alton. I suspect there has been trouble because the bounty hunters failed to catch you.” He turned to Uncle Josiah. “I know it is difficult for you to be separated from Delilah. I pray it will not be long before she joins you in Chicago.”

  I asked Mister Thomas whether he would take a handcar all the way home. He laughed. “No, this time I will ride on a passenger train. As a freed slave, I have papers saying I’m not a runaway. I’m glad because Moses isn’t the only one with sore arms!”

  He shook hands with all of us, and my pa said, “Mister Thomas, we will never forget your kindness.”

  Mister Thomas answered, “And I will never forget your courage. Rebecca, your father told me you were the first to decide to run away, to live in freedom. Little will-o’-the-wisp that you are, your conviction has sustained you and your family, and I believe you will become an inspiration to others, both black and white.”

  My eyes filled with tears and I felt very proud. As I climbed into the back of the wagon, I wrapped myself in a blanket, but it was the words Mister Thomas had spoken that gave me warmth. I had been bone-tired for days and days, and now I just wanted to sleep.

  I slept until the wagon stopped. Then I lifted a corner of the canvas and peeked out. In the broad daylight, I saw a street filled with horse-drawn wagons and people. The street was lined with stores. A bell rang, and people looked up at the steeple of a tall white church.

  The Reverend Deacon Cushing came to the back of the wagon and whispered, “This is Chicago. Stay hidden until we get to Philo Carpenter’s house.”

  The next time we stopped, the Reverend told us it was safe to come down from the wagon. He led us to a narrow, three-storey house surrounded by a white picket fence. Mister Carpenter opened the gate and welcomed us. He had white hair, like the Reverend Deacon Cushing, but instead of a beard, he had bushy white sideburns. He said, “Welcome. My name is Philo. My wife Ann and I welcome you.”

  Mister Carpenter led us upstairs to the third floor and showed us a row of beds. There was a small bed, a bed just for me. Tonight I would not hide in the woods, I would not hide in the back of a wagon or sleep on the floor of an attic—I would sleep on a bed! I lay down and pulled the clean blankets over me, falling asleep almost at once and sleeping for what must have been a long time. When I woke up, I looked for the Reverend. “Moses, where is the Reverend?” I asked. “I didn’t thank him or say goodbye.”

  Moses answered, “He had to return home but he gave us his blessing.”

  Missus Carpenter asked us to come downstairs. On the second floor, we passed so many bedrooms I couldn’t count them. Then we walked down a wide staircase with a carved banister to the main floor. Missus Carpenter led us to the dining room where white lace curtains framed the windows and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. The table and chairs were made of dark polished wood, and silver trays and bowls sat on the sideboards. The walls were lined with portraits of men and women in black suits and plain dresses. I saw the table set with seven places and knew we were being invited to eat all together with these white folks. When Missus Carpenter saw the surprise on my face, she said, “There are no slaves in this house. You are our guests.”

  This was not the first time I had shared food with white people. We had shared meals with other conductors, but this time felt different. The dining room was beautiful. Mister and Missus Carpenter asked us questions and listened carefully to what we said. Who would have imagined that the slave girl Rebecca would be welcomed into a big house, seated at a fancy table with fine china dishes, and invited to talk with white people about the end of slavery?

  Mister Carpenter said he was confident that slavery would end soon. “But I am afraid there will be a civil war between North and South before that happens. Blacks and whites together will fight for freedom, others will fight for slavery, and brother will fight brother.”

  I could not understand how brother could fight brother. I thought of my pa and my uncle, and I was sure they would never fight one another. What about Grower Brown and Master Jeff? Would they fight abolitionists like Mister Pickering, Mister Thomas, Mister Hull, the Reverend Deacon Cushing, Mister Carpenter and all the others?

  I asked, “What will happen if the abolitionists win? Will all slaves be free?”

  “Yes, when emancipation is declared, slavery will end in the South.” Mister Carpenter picked up a newspaper. “There is an ar
ticle here about emancipation. It foretells a difficult period for slaves after they are freed, for they have not had the opportunity to go to school or learn trades. And they have always lived under the yoke of their owners. Tell me, Rebecca, do you know how to read and write?”

  I was embarrassed as I shook my head no.

  “Of course not,” he said. “You have not been able to go to school. You will be staying here until Delilah joins your family. You could start to learn to read and write now. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said eagerly.

  “Good,” he said. “All men and women should know how to read.”

  My ma said quietly, “If it would be no trouble, I would like to learn to read, too.”

  Mister Carpenter nodded his head. “Of course, Deborah. I will ask my friend who is a teacher to come tomorrow afternoon. Frances Barrier is a member of my Unitarian Church and she teaches grown-ups, as well as children.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Learning to Read

  Waiting for Delilah was difficult. Because they had so little to do, my pa and Uncle Josiah were restless, but my ma and I kept busy. In the mornings, we worked with Missus Carpenter and helped with the cooking, cleaning and laundry. In the afternoons, Mister Carpenter kept his word and Missus Barrier came to teach my ma and me how to read and write.

  The teacher was a light-skinned black woman who dressed in fine clothes and wore a bonnet with pretty ribbons. Mister Carpenter introduced us. “Deborah and Rebecca, this is my friend Frances Barrier. Some years ago she taught herself to read, and since then she has taught many grown-ups and even more children. She will teach you to read, too.” When he left the room, I looked at my feet, not knowing what to say.

  Missus Barrier said, “Deborah and Rebecca, when I was young I was not allowed to go to school, but I was lucky to have a friend who gave me books. I started with a primer, a simple book with one word for each picture. I studied the words and matched them to the pictures, saying the words out loud. I learned the alphabet, sounding out each letter, and soon I was reading. Here, let me show you what I mean.”

  Missus Barrier laid some books on a table. We stood beside her and watched as she pointed to a picture, then a word, then back to the picture. Then she asked us to try. My ma took some encouragement, but I could do it easily. I was eager to learn the alphabet, too. What would it be like to open a book and understand all the words written inside? I asked Missus Barrier, “Are the letters and words the same for white people and black people?”

  She laughed, “Yes, Rebecca, they’re the same for all of us. When you learn to read, it doesn’t matter what colour your skin is. Your mind will be free to imagine anything you wish, to fly up into the clouds or travel around the world. I think you’ll love being able to read. It’ll be harder for you, Deborah, because you’re older, but you’ll learn. Don’t worry.”

  Missus Barrier came every afternoon, and in the evening, I practised words, over and over. I printed out the letters and traced them. I closed my eyes, trying to remember their shape. One day I asked Missus Barrier to show me the letters in my name.

  She printed out the letters of my name, “REBECCA.” That night I wrote my name in a small book Missus Carpenter gave me. I was proud as I traced the letters carefully and said my name out loud. Someday I would write a letter to Miss Clarissa and tell her everything that had happened since I ran away from the plantation.

  My ma struggled with the letters but she learned to write my name, then her own name, then my pa’s. She said she wanted to write our names all together because we were a family; we had stayed together, even though we were slaves, then runaways. On a page of my book, she printed “OBADIAH, REBECCA, DEBORAH.”

  I liked living at the Carpenters’ house and having Missus Barrier teach me to read. Part of me wished we could stay in Chicago, but I knew we would leave as soon as Delilah joined us. Uncle Josiah was especially anxious to see her, and Moses and my pa were anxious to keep moving. My ma was quiet. She was weary of travelling from place to place.

  One night, as we sat together, Uncle Josiah told us that he and Delilah loved one another, and when she joined us in Chicago, they would be married. He would stay with her, no matter where she wanted to live—Freedom Village or Chicago or any other place.

  My pa said he was happy for Uncle Josiah. “But, Brother,” he said, “you and I have been apart for most of our lives. Since we came together on the Underground Railroad, we’ve shared danger and worry. We’ve shared hope, too. I don’t want to be apart again. Besides, Josiah, it would be dangerous for you to settle anywhere in the United States, especially if you marry a quadroon.”

  Uncle Josiah laughed bitterly. “Poor Delilah, white people think she’s too black to be white. And black people think she’s too white to be black. Delilah has no place, but we love one another and we will make ourselves a home, a place where she belongs. I don’t want to be apart from you, my brother, but I love Delilah and I will live wherever she chooses.”

  A few days later, Mister Carpenter received a telegram from David Hull. He and Delilah would arrive in Chicago within a few days. We were excited and kept ourselves busy by working in the kitchen, making food to celebrate their coming.

  Finally, one afternoon a wagon stopped at the gate. We looked out the window and saw Mister Hull lifting Delilah out of the carriage. She was too weak to stand. When they came into the house, Uncle Josiah took her in his arms and gently carried her upstairs. Mister Hull shook his head. “Perhaps we should have waited longer but she insisted on joining you.”

  We went upstairs and found Uncle Josiah sitting beside Delilah, holding her hand. She turned her head and smiled at us, then lay back on the pillow, weak from the journey. Mister Carpenter sent for a doctor and, after examining her, he said she had been foolish to travel in her condition. She would recover only if she rested for several weeks.

  Later that night I heard Moses and Mister Carpenter talking downstairs. Mister Carpenter said, “I am sorry to give you bad news even as we welcome Delilah’s arrival. Word among the abolitionists is that the federal marshals are looking for you here in Chicago. Tomorrow night they plan to start searching the homes of abolitionists, and this house will certainly be searched.”

  Moses said, “Delilah has to stay here and rest. She can pass as white and she’ll be safe, but the rest of us must move on. Josiah will want to stay with Delilah but I’ll try to persuade him to come with us.”

  “Love is a powerful force,” Mister Carpenter said. “As strong as you are, I doubt you will be able to persuade Josiah to leave Delilah. If need be, I will find a safe place for him to hide here in Chicago.”

  Moses said, “Whatever Josiah decides, the rest of us must leave Chicago tonight. The Underground Railroad usually runs from here to the border at Niagara Falls, but I fear there will be too many federal marshals and bounty hunters watching that border. I hope you can arrange another route.”

  Mister Carpenter said, “Yes, I have thought about that. I can arrange your passage from here to Albany, New York, on the New York Central Railroad. You won’t have to pump handcars. My cousin Theodore works on the railroad, tending the caboose. He can hide you in the caboose until you reach Albany. From there, another conductor can drive you straight north to Canada.”

  Moses said, “What is the word about federal marshals and bounty hunters at the Albany station?”

  “The situation is not good,” Mister Carpenter said. “Theodore has reported that there are a large number of bounty hunters and federal marshals on the route. Let’s hope that they will not see you at the Albany station. You may have to take that risk.”

  “Mister Carpenter,” Moses said sharply, “I’m not taking these people on that railroad unless you have a better plan. I need to keep these people safe.”

  Mister Carpenter paused. “Instead of Albany, you could get off the train at a fueling stop in Hyde Park, north of Poughkeepsie. The train stops there for fresh water and coal; there’s no
station and it is most unlikely that it will be watched. I have a Quaker friend, Charles Coffin, who could meet you there.”

  Moses smiled. “I like that plan. Hyde Park will be just fine.”

  That night Moses said, “Rebecca, were you surprised by the way I talked to Mister Carpenter? When I was a slave, I had no voice. But on the Underground Railroad, I have the final say on what route we take—no one else. When I act equal to whites, I am equal. Don’t you ever forget that.” I vowed I would never forget what Moses said.

  Moses told my pa and ma, “We’re moving on tonight. Mister Carpenter will drive us to a small town in Indiana where his cousin Theodore will meet us. Now, I need to talk to Josiah.”

  Later on that evening Moses told us what happened, how she knocked on the door to Delilah’s room and found Uncle Josiah sitting beside her bed. Moses gently told him that he couldn’t stay at the Carpenters’ house because federal marshals would be searching it that very night. Uncle Josiah looked determined as he said, “I will not leave Delilah behind.”

  Moses nodded. “That’s what I thought you would say. But the federal marshals are coming to this house tonight and, if you’re here, you will be caught. You’re not light-skinned like Delilah and you can’t pass as white. Mister Carpenter has asked a friend of Missus Barrier to hide you. She’s a widow who believes slavery is wrong but she isn’t known as an abolitionist. Her house won’t be searched, and you’ll be safe until Delilah is well.”

  Uncle Josiah sighed, “I understand.”

  After that was settled, Moses came out of Delilah’s room and said we were ready to move on. Mister Carpenter went to the window to see if there were federal marshals on the street outside. The street was empty. We hugged Uncle Josiah and Delilah and said goodbye. Tears ran down my face. We had just been united as a family and now we were being torn apart. Mister Carpenter brought his carriage to the gate, and, seeing no one, motioned for us to run from the house and climb in.