The Underground Railroad (16 page)

“No,” answered the professor, “but it was the place that most runaways crossed the border. Others crossed into Canada from Port Huron, north of Detroit on Lake Huron. I think some even crossed at Sault St. Marie in the Upper Peninsula. Many runaways who came up to Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Illinois also traveled on ships on the other Great Lakes. Port cities around Michigan, including Bay City and Saginaw, saw activity on the Underground Railroad.”

It was getting dark as Mr. DeBaptiste arrived at the Detroit River. The moon peeked out of the clouds and its reflection on the river made the water look like small waves of diamonds. He stopped suddenly and looked up and down the riverbank. Then he walked out on a dock and climbed onto a ship.

“I'll bet that is the T. Whitney,” Professor Tuesday said. “Let's watch for a while.”

As we watched the ship, we could hear waves slapping against the hull. Miss Pepper was the first to speak up. “What other things did George DeBaptiste do while he was in Detroit?”

“He was a successful businessman and a member of the Second Baptist Church,” Professor Tuesday answered. “He was very active in the Underground Railroad and helped found a group called the African-American Mysteries: the Order of the Men of Oppression.”

“That's a mouthful,” Mr. Spinner said with a chuckle. “What was the group all about?”

“It was a secret society of free blacks, fugitives, and white abolitionists. The society was very selective about its membership. The members of this society wanted to protect themselves from infiltrators and spies who might try to use them or their contacts to capture slaves or arrest people who helped fugitives. Members of this group were located in both the United States and Canada. The society operated between 1840 and 1860.”

Activity on the dock stopped Professor Tuesday for a moment. A man, possibly George DeBaptiste, looked around carefully and waved his arms in the air. Soon, a group of people ran onto the dock and disappeared below the decks of the ship.

“If that's the T. Whitney it looks like it's taking a load of cargo to Canada,” Professor Tuesday said.

The man standing on the dock helped release the ship's lines. Slowly, it gathered speed and headed across the river. The sound of a loud steam whistle gave us all quite a start. But I imagine that it was probably the sweetest sound those passengers had ever heard. It was the sound of freedom.

Professor Tuesday sat back in his chair. An interesting smile crossed his face, like he was thinking about something good.

“Is there something else you wanted to tell us, professor?” Miss Pepper asked.

“I was just thinking,” he answered, “about an account I read about George DeBaptiste's work, and it mentioned that he had to fill out customs papers for his cargo before it could be taken to Canada. When he was transporting escaped slaves, he listed the cargo as ‘black wool.'”

“That's funny,” Tamika said with a chuckle. “Were you also going to tell us about Mr. DeBaptiste during the Civil War?”

“Why don't you do that?” the professor responded.

Tamika looked around the room before she began.

“Uh, I think the Civil War started in 1861.”

“That's correct,” answered the professor. “Go on.”

“In 1863, George DeBaptiste organized Michigan's first regiment of African-Americans to fight in the Civil War.”

“Excellent! Excellent!” replied the professor. “The first all-black regiment from Michigan had around 1,400 volunteer soldiers. What else can you remember from your reading?”

Tamika tapped her finger on her forehead and thought as hard as she could. “I think that his soldiers fought in South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida.”

“Correct! Correct!” the professor answered. “The regiment served for 19 months during the Civil War. More than 150 of the men in the regiment were killed in action.”

“Tamika,” her mother said, “I am very, very proud of you. I didn't realize you learned so much about George DeBaptiste. That's wonderful!”

Everyone smiled, but Tamika smiled the biggest grin.

Professor Tuesday stood up and started gathering his equipment. “Unfortunately, I won't be able to get together with you for the next several months. I have a new semester starting up at the university, and I've got to prepare my class notes. So if you have any thoughts or questions, now is the time to hear them.”

The room was very quiet while everyone thought. Tamika fidgeted in her seat, but I think she was too shy to say anything. I couldn't take it; I had to speak up.

“Tamika's been having dreams again!” I blurted, without raising my hand.

Mrs. Jones gasped. “Oh, no!” she said.

“
W
hy didn't you say something?” Tamika's mother asked.

“It wasn't real scary like my other dreams,” Tamika replied. “But it was very weird.”

“Like how?” the professor asked.

“Well,” she started, “remember when we visited the trail outside of Sturgis, Michigan?”

“I don't remember that,” said Mr. Spinner.

“That's because you hadn't joined us yet,” the professor replied. “Go ahead, Tamika, what was your dream about?”

“I remember it was the same trail, the one that we didn't see any runaways on the night we visited,” Tamika answered. “It was at night, only this time there was a family of African-Americans … a mother, a father, a little boy, and a little girl.”

“Did something bad happen in your dream?” Professor Tuesday asked.

“No,” Tamika said softly, “but this is the strange part: the little girl looked exactly like me.”

“That was a strange dream,” Mr. Spinner said.

Tamika nodded her head slowly. “Professor, can we go back there again? Maybe we'll see them.”

“I doubt we'd see them,” said the professor, “and I can't open the Tuesday Teleporter on the same day in history twice. You know that.”

“I understand,” she replied, “but can we go back a week later—like on the following Tuesday?”

“Sure,” said the professor. “Let me go to my office and get my notes from that night.”

Professor Tuesday left the conference room and rummaged around in his office looking for his notes. We sat quietly, thinking about everything we've seen and heard that night.

Tamika's mother spoke up suddenly. “You know, sweetheart, your great, great, great, great grandparents may have taken that trail when they were just children. But I think your imagination is just acting up. So don't be worried.”

“I'm not worried, Mom,” Tamika replied. “I'm just curious. If we don't see anyone on the trail, I'll understand. It's just a dream, you know.”

I think most of us in the room were a bit curious about going back to that trail, too. Maybe we would see some fugitives, maybe not. After a few minutes, Professor Tuesday returned with an armload of papers. They were all jumbled up and falling all over the place. He dropped the papers on the conference room table and talked to himself as he poured through them.

“Not that,” the professor said. “No, not that one, either. No. No. No.” He continued as papers flew around the room. “Ah, here it is.”

He took the paper to his laptop, leaving a mess of folders and papers on the floor. The professor input the information he needed and set the teleporter for the Tuesday following our original visit.

“As you all know,” the professor said as he worked, “my Tuesday Teleporter only goes back to Tuesdays in history. And, as I mentioned to Tamika and Jesse, it can't go back to the same day.”

“And why is that, Professor?” Mrs. Jones asked.

Professor Tuesday looked up from his laptop. “It's a safety precaution.” He smiled his Tuesday smile. “I don't want to run into myself in the past. It might cause some problems.”

We all thought about that. Nobody said anything. Maybe we didn't say anything because we didn't understand what the problem would be. I thought it would be kind of fun to run into myself sometime.

Professor Tuesday nodded at Mr. Adams to be ready with the Critter Cam as he fired up the Tuesday Teleporter once again. I sat back and enjoyed the light display as it bounced around the conference room. The green teleporter cloud formed right in front of us as it had before. When it did, Mr. Adams drove the Critter Cam right into it.

The professor's invention landed on the same path we had visited before. It was a cloudy night with moonlight peeking through in places, casting a scary glow. Professor Tuesday switched on the night vision so we could all see better.

“There they are!” Tamika shouted. “It's just like in my dream.”

“Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle,” Mr. Spinner muttered.

Right there in front of us was a family of four. They were holding hands and moving quickly along the path. Suddenly, they stopped and turned toward the Critter Cam. Mr. Adams zoomed in the camera so we could get a better look at their faces.

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Jones gasped as she held her hand over her mouth. “That little girl looks exactly like you, Tamika.”

“Can we follow them a little while?” Tamika asked.

“Sure,” answered the professor.

The family moved ahead and came to the same fork in the trail we had seen on our other visit. The father examined all the trees in the fork and found the nail that marked the safe route.

Just then, strange new sounds echoed through the conference room. There were sounds of a barking dog and what seemed like running horses. The family took cover in the nearby brush as the sounds grew closer and louder. They huddled, shivering with fear in the darkness.

“NO!” shouted Tamika. “NO!”

A large dog burst through the woods and stood square in the path. As it barked and growled at the family, it shifted back and forth. Soon, two men on horseback appeared. They had whips and chains on their saddles. The horses looked like they had been running hard. The riders wore long beards and moustaches. When they reached the dog, they both dismounted. One took hold of the dog and the other approached the family. He told the runaways that they were his property and he was taking them back. He then demanded that they give up before anyone got hurt.

We were all too frightened to move, or even speak. Everyone, that is, except Tamika.

“NO, YOU DON'T!” Tamika shrieked as she grabbed the remote control from Mr. Adams. She jammed the joystick forward and the Critter Cam took off up the trail toward the two men. When it got right in front of them, she spun the machine around and pushed the button Mr. Adams added to the controls.

“Skunk!” the men shouted as the Critter Cam started its harmless spray. The dog yelped and took off into the woods. The horses followed close behind, and the riders chased them into the night.

The family got up from their hiding place and took off running in the opposite direction. Tamika followed them with the Critter Cam until they reached a safe house a short distance away. We all cheered.

“Tamika,” the professor said as he shook his head, “I don't think I've ever seen anyone do a smarter or braver thing in my life.”

“I was brave, wasn't I?” Tamika replied. Her mother gave her a big hug, and I couldn't have been more proud of my friend.

“Do you think they made it to freedom?” Mr. Spinner asked.

Professor Tuesday scratched his head. “There's no way of knowing for sure,” he said. “But I want to believe they made it all the way to Canada.”

“Maybe all the way to Chatham or Buxton,” Tamika's mother said. “I truly believe they made it.”

W
e all sat quietly in the conference room as the Critter Cam returned and the professor closed his Tuesday Teleporter. Professor Tuesday pushed the clutter of paper off the conference room table and onto the floor. It was quite a mess.

“Now that the adventure is over for the night,” Professor Tuesday said, “I want to know what we've learned about the Underground Railroad. What impressed or surprised you the most?”

I thought for a moment. Then I raised my hand. “Professor, I thought it was really cool how so many people worked together, black and white, to help African-Americans escape slavery.”

“Hey,” Tamika interrupted. “Black and white … just like the Critter Cam.”

Mr. Adams petted the Critter Cam like it was a live animal and nodded his head in agreement. We all got a good laugh out of that.

“Jesse makes a good point,” the professor added. “People from all races, backgrounds, and religions helped. Running away from slavery was never easy or without danger. But it would have been impossible without the help of people who hated the very idea of slavery. What else surprised you?”

“I've thought about this for a while,” Tamika began. “Frederick Douglass believed that reading and writing were his keys to knowledge and escape from slavery.”

Miss Pepper and Mr. Skinner both agreed.

“And,” I added, “Laura Haviland, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and others wrote about the evils of slavery. Their writing probably changed a lot of minds, I'll bet.”

“And remember,” Professor Tuesday said, “places like the Second Baptist Church in Detroit and the school that Laura Haviland started did a lot to encourage reading and writing among the runaways as well as others.”

Professor Tuesday stood up and put one hand on Tamika's shoulder and another on mine. “I am very proud of the both of you,” he said. “You have learned and grown a great deal since first coming to see me many weeks ago.”

“We are all proud of them,” Miss Pepper said. “And I can't wait to go to school tomorrow to tell everyone just how brave Tamika was tonight.”

Before we left, Professor Tuesday said just one more thing. “There are many great lessons of bravery and courage surrounding the Underground Railroad. Let's all keep learning!”