Authors: Marlen Suyapa Bodden
“Well, it ain’t easy for us because nobody going to believe a field hand when he say he not on the plantation because his master sent him to look for work.”
“So, why wasn’t you surprised to see me?”
“You crazy? Every time we run we see something like ten other slaves hiding in the woods. When we in the forest and make our fire, they find us.”
“Why don’t the slave catchers find you?”
“They ain’t coming in no woods at night. They wait until we go out, ’cause we got to sometime.”
We spoke until about eleven. I thanked them and told them that I had to continue to my destination.
“Oh, here’s the knife, and I hope you make it, William,” Oliver said.
“Thank you. Me too.”
I walked away and, when I was about fifteen yards from them, I stumbled when Henry gave me a parting piece of advice.
“Hey, William.”
“Yeah?”
“If you really want people to think you a man, sit with your legs open and not crossed at the ankles.”
Their laughter carried as I resumed my travels. As before, I stayed in the forest during the day and walked on the road late at night. Three days later, I arrived in Dadeville, Tallapoosa County. The town was larger than La Fayette and more people were on the street. There was a delicious smell emanating from a public dining establishment. I went there and stood outside, waiting for someone to exit. Two children were playing in an alleyway.
“Y’all know where I can buy some food around here?”
“Yes, sir, in the kitchen back there.”
A woman who was cooking invited me in. “Come in, come in. I’m Henrietta.”
I introduced myself as William Campbell.
“Where you traveling from? You kind of young to be on your own, ain’t you?”
“No, ma’am. I’m eighteen years old. I’m looking for work.”
“Sit down. I’ll get you a plate. You like ham?”
“Miss Henrietta, to be truthful, I’m so hungry right now, I’ll eat anything you have.”
“After you eat, you can tell me where you from ’cause I know you ain’t from these parts.” She smiled as I ate fast. “I hope you saved room for my cobbler.”
“Yes, ma’am. I always do.”
I told her that my master could not afford to keep me and had sent me to hire myself out.
“He give you traveling papers?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Where you going now?”
“Out west. They told me there’s work on the docks by the Tombigbee.”
“Yes, I hear that too, but that’s hard work. You don’t look like you could do heavy lifting like that.”
“Ma’am, when I wasn’t taking care of my master, I was working in the kitchen with my mother. You know you got to lift heavy things in here.”
“True enough. So you here to get the stagecoach to Wetumpka?”
“No, ma’am. I’m trying to get to Macon County.”
“There ain’t no stagecoach to Macon until Friday. You ain’t got no place to sleep, do you? I’m sure my master will let you stay here. I’ll get you a quilt and you can put it there, in the corner. And you can help me in the kitchen to pay for your board.”
“Miss Henrietta, I do thank you very much. I have money to pay for the food, and you sure there ain’t no problem with your master if I stay here?”
“None at all. I been telling him a long time I need somebody to help me. Even if you only here a few days, that’s better than nothing.”
“What time do the stagecoach leave for Macon?”
“I think seven thirty, but I ain’t sure. Why don’t you go down to where it leave from? It just down the street. Ask somebody around there.”
I took my bag and asked a man who was grooming a horse, and he said that the coach left at seven in the morning on Fridays. As I was speaking to him, I saw public announcements nailed to a post. I thanked the man and crossed the road. Pretending to be looking in another direction, I read the notices. One said:
ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD, RUNAWAY, from Allen Estates, Benton County, a Negro woman, tall, about 5 feet 10 inches in height. Sarah is mulatto, handsome, intelligent, and speaks excellent English. She may be wearing a yellow dress and hat and carrying a yellow parasol that she stole from her mistress. She is likely to be going to Macon County, where she knows free Negroes who will help her in her escape.
I returned to the man who told me about the Macon coach. “Sir, can you tell me when the coach to Wetumpka be?”
“That’s daily, at seven.”
“Where it leave from?”
“Right over there, by that post. Young fellow, make sure you got your pass. They check them. And make sure you got full fare.”
“Yes, sir, thank you. I got both.”
I went back to the kitchen. “Miss Henrietta, since the coach to Macon ain’t ’til Friday, I think I’ll take the coach to Wetumpka, ’cause it leave tomorrow. But I can help you today and this evening, ma’am.”
“You don’t worry about that. You need to get going to find you some regular work.”
Henrietta got me a quilt from her cabin. I put my blanket on top of it and slept well that night. The following morning, I rose at four thirty and began making breakfast for Henrietta’s master and his family, who lived in the same building as the public dining room. Henrietta arrived at five thirty and thanked me for my assistance. She packed a sack of food for me.
“They stop by where there’s water to drink so the coachman and Negro passengers can have their meals during the day. You’ll get to Wetumpka before it get dark, and you can go right on the boat. You ever been on a boat before?”
“Yes, ma’am, plenty of times, but with my master.”
I thanked Henrietta and said good-bye. There were two other Negro passengers waiting to board the coach, a man and a woman. The man who reviewed our papers reminded me of an overseer at Allen Estates. He looked at the runaway notices on the post and at the documents that we presented. He asked me why I was going to Wetumpka.
“Sir, I is trying to get to the Tombigbee so I can look for work.”
“You kind of far from Madison County.”
“Yes, sir. There ain’t no work up there. My master, he the one told me to try and get work over by the Tombigbee.”
“All right, pay up and you can sit up front with the coachman and the others.”
“Sir, can I please keep my things with me?”
“There ain’t no space. You’re going to have to put it in the back.”
“Mr. Murray, we put our things in the back. There’s room up front for the young man’s things, he ain’t got much,” the Negro woman said.
Mr. Murray grunted, and I took my seat. I introduced myself to the coachman and the married couple, freedmen, who were going home to Pike County. They owned a tailor shop there and were in town to take the measurements of a planter’s family to sew them their fall and winter clothing. Our journey was uneventful, except that the couple tried to get me to work for them.
Wetumpka seemed to have become more crowded than it was when Isaac and I were there with Clarissa the prior winter. I saw bloodhounds as I walked toward the place where they sold tickets and forced myself to stop staring at them. Twenty people, all Negroes, were waiting in front of me to buy their passages. The others were already boarding the
Tallapoosa Belle,
and, as I recalled from journeys with my mother, they did not have to pay for their fare until they were on the boat.
My legs shook as the slave catchers were near me. I tried not to look at them when they started telling all Negro women to go with them. I almost obeyed because I temporarily forgot that I was hiding my true identity. A slave catcher held my lady’s maid uniform from the Cromwell plantation to a dog’s nose. He then led the animal to the group of young women. The hound did not recognize their scents and the catcher told the women that they could leave. The catcher and the dog walked by those of us waiting to buy our tickets and the dog barked when it smelled something familiar. They were next to me and the dog became excited. The catcher told me to go with him. The dog continued to bark. My legs were unsteady.
The catcher led me to the location where he had taken the women and told me to wait there. He left me to speak to another slave catcher. He pointed at me. Then I saw a public announcement about me nailed to a wall. The beginning of the description was similar to the notice in Dadeville, but this one offered a two hundred dollar reward and said that I was probably going to Montgomery to meet with my husband, Isaac, who also was a runaway. It described Isaac as being handsome with gray eyes, light-colored hair, and bright yellow skin, and it said that I had stolen a pearl and ruby necklace that I would try to sell. Both catchers returned with the dog.
“You got a pass?”
I took it out and gave it to them.
“Where you going?”
“Sir, I is trying to make my way west so I can look for work by the Tombigbee.”
“How tall are you?”
“Sir?”
“Your height, what is it?”
“Sir, I can’t say. Ain’t nobody ever tell me how tall I is.”
They spoke with each other.
“The husband is over six feet.”
“And he’s older. This one is a young boy.”
“All right, go ahead.”
My ticket cost eight dollars and entitled me to sleep in any available space on the main deck among the cargo of bundles of leather, sacks of grains and dried peas, crates of candles, and stacked lumber, mainly cypress, which I learned fetched high prices. The fare was to Claiborne, along the county line between Mobile and Baldwin counties, where the Alabama and Tombigbee rivers merge. Immediately upon boarding, I claimed a spot, avoiding stacks of firewood and lumber. When I was last on a boat, passengers were injured because logs rolled and hit them. The boat departed when all the upper-deck passengers were settled in their private compartments.
There were about two hundred landings on the Alabama River because the most prosperous planters had their own boat stops. The
Tallapoosa Belle
was only about one-third full with cargo, and it would receive another one-third in Montgomery and the balance on the rest of the landings before it arrived in Mobile Bay, where the goods from the steamboats would be transferred to ships going to England, France, and the Northern states. I was contemplating my next two days on the boat when a crewman approached me.
“I hear you’re looking for work, boy. You want to make some money?”
“Me, sir?”
“Yes, I see you’re wearing expensive clothes and we need help on the boiler-deck, serving the passengers.”
“Yes, sir. I can do that work. Sir, how much do it pay, sir?”
“You get one dollar a day plus free food and passage.”
“Sir, I done paid my fare.”
“You’ll get that back with your pay at the end. You want the job or not?”
“Yes, sir, I do want it. Thank you, sir.”
“All right, go upstairs and see the cook.”
I said a prayer because I could not believe my luck; I was going to earn two dollars and travel for free, and for the first time in my life, I was going to get paid for my labor. The cook told me to clean myself before I served the passengers and asked me whether I had a clean shirt. I said that I did and he directed me to a washroom. There, I locked the door to prevent anyone from coming in while I was undressed. Before I left, I put my manumission paper and the rest of my money in the pockets of the jacket that I was wearing.
Cook put me to work serving food and liquors to the gentlemen travelers who were sitting at the tables or on the sofas in the salon. When it was quiet on the boiler-deck, cook sent me upstairs to the hurricane deck to attend to the officers. I did not have to serve the ladies, who were at the rear of the saloon, separated by a folding door. Their maids cared for them.
When we arrived in Montgomery several hours later, the captain asked the gentlemen to retreat to their private berths because we had to clean the saloon. He told us to eat something first before we continued working. As I was wiping a table, the captain and another man went to speak to me.
“William, that’s your name, isn’t it, boy?”
“Yes, sir, Captain.”
“This man needs to see your traveling paper.”
I forgot in which pocket was my traveling pass and I patted the right one. I felt the wax seal of the manumission paper and gave him the traveling pass from my left.
“Where are you going?”
“Sir, I is going to Claiborne so I can look for work on boats going up the Tombigbee.”
“What’s wrong with working on this boat?”
“Nothing, sir, but they told me I is only working here ’til I gets to Claiborne.”
He shrugged, returned my paper, and left with the captain. When everyone boarded at Montgomery, we had more work to do because there were more gentlemen, and they spent most of their time in the saloon, playing cards and drinking spirits. I asked the cook why we had few additional passengers at the Selma landing, and he said it was because the town had never recovered from the bad times that started in 1837, when cotton prices fell in Alabama, and from the sickly seasons that began in 1840.