Storm Clouds Rolling In (46 page)

Abby drew closer and leaned over to look into Carrie’s downcast eyes.
“You say you want to be different. You say you want to go places most women never think of. There is a responsibility that goes with being different—with being a leader. Women—people everywhere—will look up to you for daring to be different. What will they see, Carrie?” she challenged lovingly, yet firmly. “Will they see someone with the courage to stand for truth? Will they see someone who moves beyond what is comfortable in order to do what is right?” Abby stopped and leaned back against the bench. She had said all she was going to say.

Carrie stared at the ground, struggling to bring her rampaging thoughts under control.
“I wish I could stay with you longer, Aunt Abby.” Her words trailed off into the glimmering heat waves bouncing off the street. She was completely unaware of the sweat beginning to trickle down her face. Carrie had no idea how to put into words what she was feeling, she just knew she didn’t want to leave. She both despised and welcomed the challenges Aunt Abby was throwing at her. Slowly, a fire ignited in her heart. A fire to live up to Aunt Abby’s standards. But most importantly, a fire to know her own mind—to know her own heart. Suddenly, she truly understood she was the only one who held the answer to all her questions about slavery.

“I would love for you to come back, Carrie,” Abby said earnestly.
“You could live with me a few months if you would like.” She reached out and took her hand. “I have grown to love you deeply.”

Carrie stared at her, unable to believe her own ears.
But then, suddenly, a steady stream of people began to pour into the building across the street. Carrie’s attention was drawn to the oddity of the group. She saw as many blacks as she saw whites. What was going on?

Abby answered her unspoken question.
“That is the meeting hall of the Philadelphia Abolitionists. They meet every Thursday morning.”

“Is that why you brought me this way?”

“Heavens, no!” Abby laughed. “I thought we would be home by now.”

Carrie stared across the street thoughtfully.
“Can we go?”

“Go home?”

“No. Go to the meeting.”

Now it was Abby’s turn to stare at her.
Slowly she nodded her head. “If you want to.”

Carrie’s answer was to stand
up and make her way across the road. Heads nodded pleasantly toward Abby as they entered the large room filled with chairs and a podium in the front. The looks directed toward Carrie were curious but not unkind. Carrie had never been to a meeting like this. There were equal parts black and white. There were also equal parts women and men. She wondered if everyone had an equal say.

Carrie was too busy looking around during the opening portion of the meeting to hear much of what was said.
Her attention was drawn to the front, however, when a small, plainly dressed woman with a head covering took her place behind the podium.               “I have a special guest I would like to introduce,” the woman began. “Many of you remember me telling you about Harriet Masters. For those of you who don’t, you’re in for a real treat. But I’m not going to say anything else. I prefer to let her speak for herself.”

Carrie gasped when Harriet took her place behind the podium, and she pulled her hat a little closer down on her face.
She was glad Aunt Abby had selected chairs toward the back of the large room. She sensed Aunt Abby looking at her inquisitively, but she refused to return the look.

Harriet gripped the podium and spoke slowly.
“My name be Harriet Masters. I don’t speak too good, but I got me somethin’ to say. First off, I want to say thank you to all you fine folks who helped me get free. I know I ain’t all the ways free yet. I stills got to get myself to Canada. I know I only be here in this city of Philadelphia for a while, den I’ll be on my way again. Only I know I won’t be alone. I got fine folks helping me break away from the misery I was in.”

Carrie leaned forward, soaking in every word.
Her eyes never left the familiar face.

“I ain’t always been a slave.
I was born a free girl somewhere’s up north. I can’t rightly recollect where. I was only a little gal—maybe seven or so—when some slave hunters kidnapped me from my mama and daddy’s front yard. I screamed for my mama but it didn’t do no good. I never did see them again.” Harriet paused to take a deep breath. “I done been livin’ as a slave for twenty years now. Some of it was not so bad. Some of it was real bad. I worked out in the fields for my owner. The first overseer weren’t so bad. He yelled and hollered a lot but he didn’t use the lash too much. But then the new one come. He be a real bad man. He didn’t have no problem using the lash. We done worked in the fields sometimes till it be way past dark. The old overseer let us have garden patches and we could even keep some animals for eating. The new one, he made us get rid of our gardens. Then he killed our animals and put the meat in the marse’s meat house. As long as the work got done, the marse didn’t care nothin’ about what be going on with us.” Harriet’s voice was a mixture of bitterness and sorrow.

Carrie looked quickly around the room.
Faces were set in anger. Many women wiped tears from their eyes as they listened to the woeful tale. Carrie battled the sickness rising in her stomach like bile. She wanted to jump up and run from the room. Instead, she turned and leaned farther forward to listen intently.

Harriet continued after a long moment.
“Being a slave can be either
real
bad or just bad. Even when I got treated good, all I wanted was to be free. It be hard on the mind and the heart when everythin’ around you be telling you that you ain’t no more use than an animal. Sooner or later you start wonderin’ if it be true. Your spirit be tellin’ you that you be somebody. Everythin’ else be telling you that you’re nothin’.” Her voice grew more intense. “The South be full of people like me just wantin’ to be free. Most of us have heard somethin’ bout the Underground Railroad, but we think it be a dream. We can’t believe it be for real—dat people really care ‘bout what be happenin’ to us.” She stopped to wipe a tear running down her cheek. “Why, I thought it be too good to be true when one of yo conductors came and took us away from our plantation. It took us near two months to make it this far. I can’t tell you how many mounds of hay I been hid under, nor how many barns I been sleepin’ in. The slave hunters done ‘most caught us a bunch of times. But the good Lord done been watchin’ out for us. We done got this far. I think we be movin’ on soon.” The tears were flowing in earnest now. “I be a free woman now. I aim to find my mama and daddy somehow. I know somewhere they’re still out ‘dere wonderin’ where their little girl be.” Then she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Pride and determination shined from her strong features. “And one day I be goin’ back to find my own chillun’. I have three of dem. Fine chillun... They be taken from me when they was little and sent off to be house chillun’ for people in the city. They told me we could visit sometime. I ain’t seen nothin’ of them since they be gone. But someday,” she vowed in a strong voice, “my chillun and I will be together again. Someday...” Body erect, Harriet turned and made her way back to her seat.

Carrie was trembling all over.

“We need to go, Carrie.”

Carrie started when she felt Aunt Abby’s hand on her arm. Nodding wordlessly, she rose to follow her from the room. The searing heat hit them full in the face when they exited the building, but Carrie barely felt it.

“Want to talk about it?”
Aunt Abby’s voice was deep with concern. “You went white as a sheet the minute Harriet took the podium. Was it too much for you? Was I wrong to take you to the meeting?”

Carrie shook her head, too full of emotion to talk just then.
They were several blocks from the building before she regained control of herself. She turned to Aunt Abby. “It was Harriet. She—” Just then her eyes widened in horror and she broke away from Aunt Abby to stride across the street. Several swiftly moving carriages barely missed her.

“Mr. Manson!
What a surprise to see you in Philadelphia.” Carrie’s voice gushed with enthusiasm.

The burly man who was the target of her pursuit pulled up short as Carrie appeared in front of him.
The two men accompanying him stopped but didn’t bother to hide the impatient looks on their faces. “Hello, Miss Cromwell.” He made no attempt to hide his surprise.

Carrie bit her lip.
She knew it wasn’t proper for a plantation owner’s daughter to be familiar with an overseer, but now was no time to worry about protocol. “Why, what a delight to see you here. What brings you here? Do tell me how you like Philadelphia!” Carrie maintained her position in the middle of the sidewalk.

Manson looked at her sharply.
“It’s nice to see you, Miss Cromwell, but I am in rather a hurry right now.” The two men beside him shifted uneasily.

“Why, Mr. Manson, what could be more important than talking to little
ol’ me?” Carrie almost laughed aloud at the sound of her own petulant voice. “I have
so
missed everyone from home. You’re like a breath of fresh air! Do tell me how things are back in Virginia. The Blackwells? Louisa?” Carrie fought to control her panic. She had to stall them. She was counting on the close friendship between her father and Alfred Blackwell to keep him there.

The two men stared at Manson as he pushed his hat back on his head and sighed heavily.
“Miss Cromwell, the truth is that I am not here in Philadelphia on pleasure. It’s business. I really must be going.” He moved as to walk around Carrie.

Carrie, fighting a desire to laugh, moved forward suddenly and put her hand on his arm.
His tanned face blushed crimson. Why, it was rather fun to use her feminine wiles! “Oh, business,” she gushed, stretching out the word as long as she could. “I am so fascinated by business, Mr. Manson. Man’s ability to handle business is something I so admire. Do tell me what kind of business you’re here on.”

Manson ignored the two men at his side and settled into a relaxed posture on the sidewalk.
“Well, Miss Cromwell. It’s quite a long story.”

“Oh, I love long stories,” Carrie cried, feeling quite triumphant.
The men behind Manson ground their teeth in frustration.

Thus encouraged, Manson embarked on his long tale of frustrations and thwarted opportunities as he had sought for weeks to hunt down the Blackwell slaves who had escaped.
“There were ten of them, Miss Cromwell. They be mighty valuable to Blackwell. I’ve had to come and go in the hunt because I still have my responsibilities at the plantation. But we’ve been told they’re here in Philadelphia. Close, as a matter of fact.” Suddenly he was all business again. “Good day, Miss Cromwell.” He tipped his hat, stepped around her, and disappeared into the crowd.

Carrie looked after him, biting her lip.
Had she given Harriet enough time?

“What in the world was that little show of southern seduction all about?”

Carrie started as Aunt Abby’s amused voice sounded at her side.
“Oh, Aunt Abby,” she cried. “I hope I gave her enough time.” The despair in her voice was obvious.

“What in the world are you talking about, Carrie?”

Carrie looked around the crowded sidewalks, now aware of people having to sidestep around her. “Can we sit down on this bench for a moment? I know you said we had to be going, but—”

Abby was already seating herself.
“Tell me what is going on,” she demanded.

Carrie nodded.
“It was Harriet. I’ve known her all my life.” She paused and took in Aunt Abby’s startled look. “She ran away from Blackwell Plantation. Alfred Blackwell is one of my father’s closest friends.” She paused as she remembered the tears streaming down Harriet’s face. “That man I was talking to is Abe Manson, Blackwell’s overseer. They heard the runaway slaves were in Philadelphia. As soon as I saw him I knew what he was here for.” Her voice caught. “Do you think I gave them enough time?”

Abby nodded.
“You did fine, Carrie. There was just enough time.”

Carrie stared at the smile on her face.
“How do you—”

Abby took the girl’s hand.
“When you looked so frightened, and then darted across the street, I knew something was wrong. Then I got a close look at those men and recognized one of them as a slave hunter. I also remembered your reaction when Harriet rose to speak. I couldn’t figure out the whole story, but I put two and two together enough to send a passing friend back to the meeting.” She smiled warmly. “Harriet and her friends are being taken to a safe place even as we speak.”

Carrie fell back with a deep sigh of relief.

Abby squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” she said fervently, her voice choked with tears. She looked deeply into Carrie’s eyes. “Why did you do it, Carrie?”

Carrie shrugged.
She hadn’t really stopped to think through any of her actions. There had been no time. “Harriet was so happy to be free, and she’s gone through so much already...” Her voice trailed off, then strengthened. “I could never have lived with myself if I hadn’t done something to stop them.” Silence fell between them for a moment and then Carrie laughed merrily. Her laughter continued as she saw Aunt Abby staring at her with concern. Finally, she sobered enough to speak. “None of my friends would have recognized me today. I hardly recognized myself. I’ve never been one to utilize feminine wiles.” Mirth overcame her again as she gasped, “I’m really quite good at it, you know. It was rather fun.”