Passing To Freedom, Chapter 17: Hunted

Chapter 17

“I am sorry, really sorry, Sir, but somehow, I do not know how they did it, but somehow, they got away, Sir.”

The sun was shining, the weather was dry, and it was still early enough in the morning to catch up with them. Ignoring the foolish woman, he had turned to his head overseer:

“Did you bring the dogs?”

“Yes, Senator, I did.”

“Good. They already know her scent, so you let those dogs loose, and you find her, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir, Senator, we will-”

“You find her, and bring her back to me, in one piece, you hear?”

These imbeciles were useless, but he would find his Ann. If she was with the Price gal, which was certain, now, it seemed that there would be yet another party added to this game, shortly. It seemed that the two fancies had a little pickaninny with them, and the three of them had most certainly had help, or else they had managed to steal that carriage and the horses, which he sorely doubted. His Ann was certainly not capable of such a thing, and that Price gal was just a city fancy with free issue parents, so how could she possible have pulled off something like that without help? It was these damned abolitionists, hiding here in the state of Maryland. No shelter for these heathens in my Commonwealth, by God. He would have to lodge a formal complaint with the Maryland delegation, get Price to make some inquiries. They couldn’t be too far, those damned thieves, whoever had given them that set of carriage and horses. How did those gals manage to talk their way in to this tavern, any way?

He turned back to the woman, who began to tremble visibly, as he glared at her.

“Tell me, woman, how did it come that you allowed my gal and those other two slaves into your establishment, in the first place? Was it not evident to you that they were not of a sufficiently high station to warrant the sort of hospitality to which you treated them?”

“No, sir, Senator, sir, they was, it was, they were not, I mean to say-”

“Speak, woman!”

“That is, Senator, sir, that they looked like a fine lady should ought to look, dressed nice, and smelled of lavender, what with a little body servant and all-”

“Since when have you ever seen a body servant that small, you fool? And you even have the unprecedented nerve to try to charge me for your stupidity, woman? How dare you?”

The tavern keeper cowered as he shouted at her, lowering her head, finally, starting to learn her place, and stammering something about a blanket. The foolish woman seemed to think he should pay her for having lost his Fancy.

“Not one Virginia cent!”

He raised his cane, advancing upon the woman as she backed away while uttering a steady stream of apologies. As the Senator was about to teach her a lesson she’d not soon forget, riders came up the road, one stopping to hail him:

“We found a trail, but it goes cold about a mile out. Price’s dogs led us to it, following this scent.”

The man held up a muddied driver’s cap.

“So, Price’s gal is smarter than I thought. I might just have to buy that gal, teach her her place, when this is all over.”

***

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Shall I Compare Thee to a Great Film? Books to Read If You Loved Watching Hamnet

These books take place in various historical eras and touch upon themes found in Hamnet, including motherhood, family drama, and art.
https://bookriot.com/books-to-read-if-you-like-hamnet/

#HistoricalFiction #Lists #LiteraryFiction #PastTense #PopCulture

Passing To Freedom, Chapter 14: Smoke Signals?

Chapter 14

Little Tilly scampered back into the room after only half of her usual curtsy, so over-excited did she seem after speaking with Anna. She had closed the door almost silently, and crossed the room in three light bounds. She stood on her tip toes, placing her lips nearly in my ear to tell me:

“Joe says that we are to wait two hours, and then come down to the stable with all of our things, and the leftover food, in utter silence.”

I hugged little Tilly to my bosom, relieved to see that Anna’s gift for reading my mind, or perhaps it was our shared gift for thinking alike, was still intact. The long ride these past days had seemed like an eternity, hidden away in the carriage as we were, leaving our Joe to take most of the visible risk. I longed to have even a moment alone with her, but for the moment, safety was our priority. I looked about the room, seeing that Tilly had quite nearly already gathered up our affairs, and so I set about bundling all of the leftover biscuits, and even the rest of the sugar cone, into the tavern napkins, feeling only a mild fleck of guilt over stealing the owner’s linen. Seeing as how that woman was attempting to help steal our very persons, it seemed a fair trade. And Captain and Old Mary will be glad that this out of the way place is ten years behind the times. That was, unless we ourselves had greater need of the precious energy bound up in that old cone of sugar. I heard the old clock downstairs strike the hour, and wondered what we would do with ourselves as we waited for it to strike twice more. Anna certainly needed the rest, but for my part, I dared not fall asleep, afraid to risk missing the crucial second striking of the clock, in spite of how loud it seemed to my ears. How anyone got a decent night’s sleep in this tavern was beyond me. That old clock must be the pride and joy of the owner, to keep it here and risk losing customers. Then it hit me. Tilly and I must try to time our footsteps with those of the striking clock, in just under two more hours. It would be three in the morning, and those three bell tones could well cover the sounds of our closing room door, and maybe even the sound as we closed the front door, could we be ever so quick about getting down those stairs. There had to be a way to make it work. We would need to plan our exit carefully, so that I could be at the front door, with some excuse should that woman be up and about, while Tilly stayed upstairs to close our room door upon the first chime of the clock. I had had plenty of practice at tiptoeing around an old house, and was confident that I could make my way down the stairs silently before the clock began to strike. But covering the distance between our room and the outside door in the three seconds during which the clock would strike, without making a sound, was something that only our little Tilly could likely pull off. Since there was already an extra chamberpot in the room, that would not do as an excuse, for it was far too cold to expect a valuable young body servant to go outside to use the privy in the dark. Not when there was supposed to be a “negro stealer” about, in any case. The limits of being a Virginia lady now made it as difficult to steal away in the night as it had been simple to put off the tavern keeper with an authoritative word. A headache, perhaps, or my young servant being too short to search in the kitchens for some bit of potion in a cabinet, maybe? I looked over at Tilly, who was fast asleep on the bed, two bundles just within reach of each hand. This child was amazing. Thou shalt not covet, Willow, even the ability to sleep. I reminded myself to be grateful that at least one of us was able to rest. The clock was in the middle of striking the start of the second hour, as I scrambled to find some reason for being downstairs in another hour, when a knock came at the door. It had been barely audible over the resonating echo of the last chime from the clock, and I thought for a moment that I might have imagined it, until the door began to creep open. I hastily threw my shawl over Tilly and the bundles before slipping under the covers, managing to knock a pillow onto the floor beside me, hoping the intruder would mistake that pillow for Tilly, sleeping beside my bed, as a body servant ought to. We had put the candles out as soon as Tilly returned from the stables, taking care to avoid moving around the room. Our ruse seemed to have worked, but now it was too dark to see any features of the head that peered into the room, facing the bed. I took several regular deep breaths in and out, to imitate sleep, as I had practiced back in Virginia when trying to avoid the Senator’s late night attentions. The intruder appeared to be satisfied by this ruse, as the head withdrew, and the door closed as slowly and quietly as it had opened, only the barest click of the latch to be heard. Then, I heard another sound, one with which I was also familiar. A key turned in the lock, the slow scratching of metal on metal.

We’ve been locked in! I sat bolt upright in the bed, trying not to wake Tilly, while looking around the room for another door, or a window. There were none. But there was one saving grace. I knew the sound of a key being removed very well, for it was the sound that so often accompanied the voice of the Senator when he locked me into my rooms, depriving me of food for the crime of depriving him of the entire fulfillment of one of his appetites. He always took the key with him, to prevent one of the house servants from slipping me food when he was away. But the intruder tonight had left the key in the lock. Possibly to prevent us from seeing the hallway through the keyhole. But it also might allow me to persuade someone to let us out. No other means of escape was possible. With the fire still hot, even if it might have gotten little Tilly out, even the chimney was out of the question. Wait, the chimney! How far are the stables from this room, I wonder? Far enough to see the smoke from this chimney? Our fire had died down, and should be producing only a thin wisp of smoke now, barely visible, and quite normal for this time of the night. What would Anna think if she could see billowing clouds of smoke coming from only one fire in the house, at this time of night? Would she come to check, when we did not come down? Would she be able to see which room we were in? Would the key still be in the lock? No matter what the answers, I had to try. There was plenty of wood for the fire, but nothing that might produce thick smoke. I built up the fire in the fireplace, placing as many logs as would easily fit, and then waited for the top log to burn down. Maybe half an hour passed, and I heard no sounds in the rest of the tavern. Surely that woman and the help had all gone to sleep by now, safe in the knowledge that we were locked in to this room, with no way of even seeing what was going on beyond our door. I found an extra blanket, and spilled a little water from the pitcher onto it until it was just damp, but not too heavy, and then I hefted it into the fireplace, trying to hold it above the top log, but it ended up in the fire. By the time I had hauled it back out, little Tilly was awake, and helping me douse the blanket, which had begun to smolder in some spots. I put my finger to my lips, making a key turning motion with my fingers as I jerked my head toward the door, and the poor child’s face fell.

My heart nearly broke as I saw this beautiful child break down, for the first and what I hoped was the last time, in tears of desolation. Then I vowed that I would keep this child from harm, no matter what price I had to pay.

***

Children like Tilly, and those of Bright Beginnings in DC, deserve protection, love, and learning, as The Project Do Better by ShiraDest Publications Fund hopes to help with, via the GWCF, just a little bit, at least, so that they will not have to send any smoke signals for help, and so that they can actively contribute to the building of better solutions for all of our world. The free Project Do Better manifesto/manual offers a long term plan for discussion and building upon -Nia, fka Shira, of shiraDest pubs…

Passing to Freedom, Chapter 13: The First Test

Chapter 13

We continued on most of that day, our bellies empty, but wishing to get as far away as quickly as possible from the home of Dr. H. and his wife so as to avoid, to the extent that we could, putting them in any further danger, should we be questioned or caught. We had risked a short stop to send young Tilly to a well to draw enough water for the three of us for a few days and to feed the horses, but apart from that break, we continued on into the night. I worried that Old Mary, tied up behind us, might be starting to tire, but our Joe would have to be the judge of that. I wondered how close we might be, now, to the border with Pennsylvania, the first state where we might dare to hope for a bit of succor, or at least some small lessening of our dangerous position. While we knew that never would we be safe until touching the soil of Canada, nothing was so dangerous as being taken here in a slave state. I had been too anxious to do more, as we rode, than stare at my letters, whilst going over our story again and again, to be certain that I had those life-saving details learned by heart. My precautions were wisely taken.

Before we could get to the next station house, we encountered a tavern keeper, apparently out to put her lantern out before going to bed, by the looks of it. She made eye contact, and waved at me before I was able to draw my window curtain, certainly perplexed to see a lady out this late on the road. Joe must have felt that we had no choice but to stop, although the plan had been to pass by all roadside taverns in the darkness until we came to our safe haven, the next Station along the way. I saw with dread that we were drawing to a stop, as the woman ran to meet us. I only hoped that she had not seen any postings with our faces draw upon them. The reward for all three of us would surely lighten the heart of any tavern owner out in this part of Maryland. Our lack of male escort would instantly give us up, it seemed to me, as fugitives, but there was nothing to do but play this Peculiar game until the ruse was discovered. I must try. Our Joe was already dismounted, and holding Captain’s reins, bowing to the woman as she approached the carriage. She looked them both over, as if searching for something, before saying:

“Oh, you need not bow to me, hon, I am a simple honest working woman. I would speak with your mistress a moment.”

By her familiar treatment, she must be from Baltimore, where some of the white folk were less ill disposed to those of our condition than in Virginia. As the woman arrived at the door of our carriage, I hid my face as I pinned my hair up, taking as deep a breath as my bodice would allow, before facing my first test. I put on my finest and most haughty voice, as I had seen the ladies of the Commonwealth treat with domestics or working class white people such as this tavern keeper appeared to be, during my stays with the Senator in the Federal City:

“Good evening, to you, good woman. Why have you stopped me in my journey, pray tell?”

From the curtsy she dropped me, she appeared to be a domestic, rather than the owner, but then why flag us down? She looked up and squinted at me, as though trying to recall something, and then let out a short cackle of a laugh:

“It’s well past evening, Miss, that is for sure. I was just putting out the lantern for the night, being so late and all, but I have a room available that would be quite suitable for a lady,” the woman stole a quick glance toward the front of the carriage, “and even a small bed in the stable, for your driver. It’s not good to be about at night nowadays, what with this robber out on the loose in these parts.”

Robber? I tried to give her as haughty a look as I could manage, preparing to recite our story as I had practiced. Before I could speak, she hurried on, as if she were more nervous than I was:

“Oh, yes, Miss, there is a lascivious negro robber about. Stole Charles Price’s gal from down Washington way just the other month or so. Most likely long out of the state by now. But let’s not stand about out here in the cold discussing such unpleasantness. Have your driver come on around to the front so we can get you settled in to that lovely warm room, Miss.”

I must have blanched, for she stepped closer, nearly right up against the door of the carriage, hands rushing toward me as if I were falling:

“Are you all right, Miss? Have you taken cold? We must get you in right away.”

Looking back toward the tavern, she shouted:

“Lizzy, be quick, go up and get our best room warmed for the lady,” who must have been the help, and then straightened and looked back toward the front of the carriage to shout, “Driver, take your mistress around to the entrance, right away. She looks to have taken a chill!”

It all happened so quickly that none of us had time to object. This woman was clearly in the habit of giving orders, despite her earlier familiar tone with our Joe. I knew that among the papers that Dr. H. had given us was also some money, but I had no idea how much, nor what the cost of these lodgings might be. I only hoped that it would be enough not to draw suspicion.

We drew to a stop before the door of the tavern, and Tilly opened the door and leapt out lightly, bowing her head as she placed a low stool for me to step on, and I descended from the carriage. I was amazed at how her tiny frame could carry all of our baggage from within the carriage, but remembered, I hoped, my own role in time to draw myself up to my full height, imitating the ladies whom I had seen visiting the mansion back in Virginia. I contented myself with following Tilly, who followed the one that must have been Lizzy, up to our rooms, as I hoped that all was going well enough with our Joe as he settled Captain and Old Mary into the stables. I felt terrible that not only were we to be separated this night, but even worse, that Anna’s bed must be with the horses, even if that might make for greater security for the carriage. I was about to ask Tilly to go down and ask the tavern women to see that a meal was sent out to the stable, when a knock came at our door. Tilly ran to answer it, opening and folding into a curtsy as she turned to face me. I could see that it was our hostess, whom I still supposed to be the tavern keeper, holding a tray of tea and biscuits.

“I brought you up some supper, or what was left of supper, in any case, as we’ve just finished cleaning up the kitchen for the night. I see that Lizzy has built up a good fire, and I hope she has warmed the bed to your satisfaction, Miss?”

The woman had entered the room before I could get a word in edgewise, and walked across to me, holding the tray out. Tilly intercepted it instantly, and I saw the slightest downward tilt of the woman’s mouth as she handed it over. What was going on, here? She continued, while observing me closely:

“I’ll send Lizzy up in the morning with your breakfast, Miss, to collect the fees, unless you want to sign a bill of credit with your husband or family seal?” Her hesitation clearly indicated that this woman wanted to know who we were.

I was so tired that I thought I could nearly pull off feigning a fainting episode, so I allowed myself to sway a little on my feet, and put an arm out, which little Tilly expertly caught, as I put a hand to my head, and answered:

“Yes, tomorrow. That will be fine.”

But the woman did not leave. Instead, she continued to regard me as if looking at some sort of puzzle which she was unable to decipher. I straightened my back, stared at her in what I hoped appeared to be a stern gesture, and forced myself to grunt out the words in my most disdainful tone:

“I am very fatigued.”

“Yes,” she replied in what could almost have passed for a disappointed tone of voice, “I see. Well, Miss, I only wanted to wish you a good night, and to tell you to take all precautions as you travel. You can see why for yourself, here.”

The woman held out a paper that I imagined to be the local gazette for me to see, which young Tilly took from her with a bowed head, and delivered to me with a deep curtsy. I continued to look up at the woman, perplexed.

“Why, Miss, did you not see the posting? Your young driver there could be the little brother of this Anna Marie Weems the papers are looking for, with them freckles.”

I looked at the posting, but there was no drawing, only words that I could not quite make out. This was not good. Now it became clear that this woman had been testing me, and that I was fast failing the test. We had to leave, this night, before she could summon men to capture us. I opted to continue playing the haughty Virginia lady:

“Indeed? Well, this should be interesting, in the morning. Now, you must excuse me, for I am very fatigued. I pray you see that my servant is fed in the stables, and my horses, and I bid you good night.”

I stared at her in the look of dismissal I had seen worn of the faces of those ladies from Virginia, and this time I did not fail, for she turned to leave, only hesitating at the door, as Tilly was bringing me my tea, her head bowed and her tiny body folded into that perfect curtsy of hers. As soon as the tavern keeper closed our door, I whispered to Tilly to go tell our Joe everything that she had seen, carrying a leftover biscuit and some sugared tea as a secret treat, in case she was stopped along the way.

Just when we needed the rest. I sighed. Why, Oh, Lord, have we no place to lay our heads?

***

Here we see Willow confront her first real test of this journey. Will she pass it, and keep our three escapees safe, for the moment? This is a story of courage and intelligence that children like those of Bright Beginnings in DC need to hear, which is part of the Work taken up by Project Do Better, as part of Phase I of the Project… -Nia, fka Shira, of ShiraDest Publications

Today in labor history April 28, 1789: Fletcher Christian led a group of mutineers against the brutal Captain Bligh on the HMS Bounty. Christian began the voyage as the captain’s mate, but Bligh appointed him acting Lieutenant during the voyage. The story of the voyage and mutiny was later retold by Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall in their novel “Mutiny on the Bounty.” After their successful mutiny, Christian, 9 other mutineers, 6 Tahitian men and 11 Tahitian women, started a colony on the South Pacific Island of Pitcairn. However, when the mutineers tried to enslave them, the Tahitians rebelled and killed most of them. But not until after many of the Tahitian women became pregnant. The decedents of the mutineers and the Tahitians continue to live there today. Bligh had previously served on the Resolution, as Master, under Captain Cook, on his second and third voyages to Hawaii. And he was present when the native Hawaiians killed Cook.

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"Spain made her a princess. History made her a queen. This is the story in between." 👑📖

Today's spotlight shines on INFIDEL: THE DAUGHTERS OF ARAGON (SIX TUDOR QUEENS) by NICOLA HARRIS! This richly imagined work of biographical and historical Tudor fiction illuminates the remarkable and often overlooked journey of a woman whose story stretches far beyond the crown she would come to wear. 🌹✨

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Thank you Clair !

First of December follows three people during the last week of November 1838, capturing an extraordinary time in the history of South Africa and colonialism, in this intensely human story.

More here: https://www.hhousebooks.com/books/first-of-december/

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Passing to Freedom, Chapter 12: Senatorial Search

Chapter 12

“Be sure that there are no portraits of her in any of these advertisements.”

The hireling’s questioning look was met with a snort of disdain from the Senator, who lifted his head, staring hard at the man:

“Do you think I want her knowing that I am searching for her, you fool? No, let her think that I have given up the search, that it has been too long. Let her believe that she is safe, for a while. She should not be able to read, as I have taken great pains to prevent such folly, so posting this notice with only her description will allay her suspicions, and she will play into our hand.”

“What do you mean to do then, sir?”

Was it not obvious? It was clearly time to find a new odd jobs man. This fool had not even a single original thought in his head. When he clacked his tongue in irritation, the imbecile actually trembled. And a coward, to boot. After throwing him a look of utter disgust, the Senator made a gesture:

“Take these words down for an additional posting. I will pay every tavern owner and their hired hands, even to the meals and lodging, if they will hold my Fancy Gal Ann for me, wherever she may be, and double the reward if they can keep her from leaving the state of Maryland.”

“But sir, for all that money, you may as well buy yourself another Fancy, a younger one.”

The Senator lifted his walking cane, hefting it, and then pointing it with a cruel smile at his hired man’s head:

“Have you not heard me? I will have my Ann back, my Ann, and no other, whatever the price.”

***

This is the second chapter in my new historical novel, Passing to Freedom: Willow’s Story, in which we hear the voice of the Senator, the antagonist, as he searches for the young woman, a particular type of slave known as a Fancy Maid, whom he considers to be his property. It is also the second chapter in Act II, our protagonist now having crossed the threshold on her own, out of the world that she has known, and into the danger of a role that, while familiar, remains unknown, to her, personally. And her performance will determine if the Senator finds her…

Nia, fka Shira, still of ShiraDest Publications