Savannah, Georgia
1860
Come quick,” Charlotte whispered, signaling for the runaway slaves to hide in the old childhood fort. She’d been hiding men and women there for six months. Soon it would be too hot, and her family would be leaving the plantation for their summer residence in downtown Savannah. Slaves were like cattle and oxen to her father. He didn’t see them as equal to him or anyone with lighter-colored skin. The slaves stayed behind year after year and worked in the rice fields. It was hard and hot work. Worse, they never earned a penny for their labor. Over the past couple of years, Charlotte had become convicted that slavery was wrong and that slaves were real human beings—not chattel to serve her or others. She had no problem with servants if they were paid for their work and treated respectfully.
Her frustration had grown to the point where it overflowed.
“Quick, get in here.” Charlotte held back the covering that hid the small mound where men and women could hide and have a safe place to sleep for the night. She’d taken her childhood fort and converted it to aid the slaves in their quest for freedom. Unfortunately, she never knew if one or more of them made it to the North, but she hoped and prayed they would.
The small family huddled in. “I’ll bring some food when it’s safe,” she whispered, and closed the door-like opening and reset the fallen branches and Spanish moss to keep it from appearing as anything more than an old forgotten heap.
She quickened her pace. Her parents would begin to wonder where she’d been if she didn’t make an appearance within the next few minutes.
“Miss Charlotte, you best be gettin’ yourself over here. Come on.” Maggie was the house slave who had been cooking for the Kimbrels since before Charlotte’s birth.
“Coming. I lost track of time.”
“Uh-huh, I’s knows what you be doin’. Don’t you be—” Maggie stopped for a moment. “Come and get it, Miss Charlotte. I cooked some mighty nice vittles for you this evening. The house sure does smell real good.”
“Charlotte,” her mother’s voice called out. “What are you doing out there?”
“Sorry, Mama. I was down by the river and lost track of time.”
“Maggie, make sure she’s cleaned up. James Tyler is coming to dinner. With any luck he might just find Charlotte desirable and set his cap for her.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes but kept her peace. Her parents could not find out what she’d been doing. If they did, they’d marry her off to the first man possible.
Her mother nodded and headed toward the dining room.
“Git in here!” Maggie pushed her through the doorway. “What am I’s goin’ to do with you?”
“I’m fine.”
“And the good Lord Hisself is the only One who can look over fools.” Maggie wagged her head. “Git to your room, and I’ll be there to tighten that corset. I’s set your lime-green dress out for tonight’s dinner.”
“Thank you, Maggie.”
Charlotte headed up to her room. The only real question she had was whether her own slaves knew what she was up to. Had they helped the other slaves in the past six months? It was a risk to ask. It was safest if no one knew for certain.
Charlotte undressed and cleaned up at the basin and pitcher of water always placed fresh each morning in her room. No doubt she lived a pampered life. From sunup to sundown she didn’t have a thought or worry that couldn’t be handled by one of her father’s slaves. Charlotte sighed.
She stepped into the dress laid out on her bed to prevent wrinkles. She closed her eyes. She’d forgotten the corset. No dignified Southern lady would dress without a corset, not for something as formal as a dinner with guests. She removed the dress in time for Maggie to slip in through the servants’ corridor. “I’s here, Miss Charlotte.”
In no time, the corset was laced, the dress on, and a fresh pair of shoes adorned her feet, unlike the mud-caked ones she’d had on earlier. “You’s look real fine, Miss Charlotte. Mr. James…he be a fool not to notice.”
“Thank you, Maggie, but I hope he doesn’t notice too much.” James Tyler wasn’t a bad man, as far as she knew, but he was twenty years her senior and had a belly that extended far more than one should.
“Trust the Lord, miss. He knows what’s best.”
Charlotte bit her lip. How did God allow such cruelty to slaves? Then she reminded herself of the story in the Bible of the people of Israel and how long they were captive in Egypt.
The doorbell rang. Charlotte shuffled out of her room and down the stairs. Two men stood in the entrance, James Tyler and a rather handsome younger man. Charlotte couldn’t help herself and smiled. Tonight should be an enjoyable evening.
“Mr. Tyler, a pleasure, and who might this gentleman be?” Mother asked as Father shook Mr. Tyler’s hand.
“May I introduce you to Captain Zachery Browne. He hails from the North, but we won’t hold that against him.” James Tyler laughed at his own joke. No one else responded in kind. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought a guest. Captain Browne is leaving port in the morning, and I thought he might be able to help you with some of your transportation costs. He’s offering me quite a fair price for my exports.”
“Always happy to meet a potential business contact,” Father said as he shook the captain’s hand.
Charlotte’s four other siblings entered the room. Davis, two years her junior and just like their father; followed by Randall, two years younger than Davis. Pearl, the only other daughter, was suffering the afflictions of being sixteen years old. Last but not least, Stew, who broke the two-year pattern by showing up ten years ago, four years after Pearl. Of all her siblings, Charlotte spent most of her time with Stew.
Father gave the introductions as they all stood there in line and smiled. Respect and manners were of high importance in the Kimbrel household. After a few social pleasantries in the parlor, all were called to the dinner table. Mr. Tyler’s place card sat next to Charlotte’s. The servants had added another setting for Captain Browne. Before anyone noticed, Charlotte placed Mr. Tyler’s place card at a new setting then scurried back to her own chair and set Captain Browne’s next to hers.
Stew was on her right. Captain Browne on her left. Charlotte glanced across the table and caught her mother’s eye. She hadn’t fooled anyone. Mother was wise to the subterfuge. Conversation was polite until Captain Browne said, “No, sir, I do not have any slaves working for me.”
Zachery tried to be polite. The evening had been tolerable. But he found it difficult to hide his emotions on the slave issue, which was why the owners of the shipping company were hinting this might be his last run to any of the Southern states. More and more Northern shipping companies were avoiding the South. Tensions were rising in the country with regard to slavery. Zach saw it. His bosses saw it. He felt the Southerners saw it too. Perhaps it was even worse in the South, judging from Mr. Kimbrel’s reddening face.
Miss Charlotte squirmed in her seat.
Davis stood and threw his cloth napkin on his plate. “I ask you to leave, sir!”
Zachery wiped his mouth with his own napkin and nodded. “Forgive me for insulting you. I merely voiced that I do not have slaves working on my ship. I am captain of a Northern vessel, and we have a policy against it. And since it is not my ship, I am obliged to respect my bosses’ directives.”
“Sit down, Davis,” Mr. Kimbrel said. “I understand your plight, Captain Browne. No offense is taken. We are sensitive to the Northern intrusion. We do not have children working in our factories. Each state, North or South, has their own version of slave labor. Don’t you agree?”
Zachery didn’t want to agree but couldn’t argue the point. He didn’t believe in children working in factories as much as he didn’t agree with a man owning another man. “Fair enough.” He held up his wineglass and turned it toward his host. He knew he shouldn’t have come to dinner tonight, but he had to keep James Tyler preoccupied for the evening while his men took care of some business. For the past year he’d been running hidden cargo on his ship, and while he knew his time of sailing slaves to freedom was coming to an end, he didn’t want to go home empty-handed.
Placated, his host and the oldest son calmed down. The conversation shifted. James engaged their host.
“Is that really your position on slavery?” Charlotte whispered.
“I take it you have different views?”
Charlotte nodded then smiled. “Tell me about your ship, Captain Browne.” She glanced in the direction of her mother. Zach caught on. “She’s a fine vessel. She was built in Bath, Maine. As you may or may not be aware, Bath has one of the richest histories in building wooden boats. The Lady Grace is one of theirs. She’s fifty-seven feet long and has a width of twenty feet. Her draw is low at six feet. She can’t go too far up the Savannah, but there are some rivers she can sail in.”
“How long have you been a captain?” Randall asked.
Mrs. Kimbrel went back to her conversation with Mr. Tyler. “To answer your question, Randall, I started as a cabin boy at the age of twelve. I come from a sailing family, so I have been on sailing vessels since before I could walk. I’ve been a captain for three years now. It was a lot of work, but the owners saw that I was a man of honor and sober mind, so I was given an opportunity. They were pleased. I not only have the responsibility of the owners of the vessel, but I also have to meet the needs of my customers.”
“Where have you sailed to?” Charlotte asked. He could see the wanderlust in her pretty blue eyes. She was a fine-looking young woman.
“Around the world. I’ve been to the Far East, Europe…but most of my work since I became captain has been on the east coast of America.”
“I’d like to travel someday,” Charlotte admitted. “Mother speaks of England and Paris with such a fondness—”
“They are beautiful cities,” Mrs. Kimbrel interjected.
“I prefer to stay here in Savannah.” James Tyler voiced his opinion. “It has all the culture I need.”
“Me too.” Davis sat up. “There isn’t another city like Savannah.”
“Have you traveled much, Mr. Kimbrel?” Zachery asked Davis.
“Nah, don’t need to. We got it all right here. We live on the plantation most of the year and in the city during the hotter months. There, a man can have a different female escort every night if he were so inclined.” Davis grinned.
Charlotte squirmed. She definitely had a difference of opinion with her brother. Zachery turned toward Charlotte. “Where else would you like to travel to, Miss Charlotte?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve read about so many different places. Some are so deep in the interior of a country it would take a year to visit.”
“Such as?” Zachery enjoyed the fire starting to ignite in Charlotte.
“The Iguazu Falls in Argentina. I suppose that isn’t too far inland, but what about the Amazon River? I’ve heard it is dangerous and man-eating fish live there.”
“Piranhas, yes, which in part explains my desire to stay on the oceans.” Zachery chuckled.
“Don’t sharks attack people?” Pearl asked.
“Goodness! Such conversations coming from my daughters.”
“Sorry, Mother,” Charlotte and Pearl said in unison.
“I understand that to meet a man who has sailed around the world is rather interesting, but I’m certain there are topics he can speak to that are far more edifying.”
The servants, or rather house slaves, came and cleared their dinner dishes as they made the table ready for dessert. Zach could feel Charlotte’s curiosity rise. Truthfully, she had captured his attention as well. After a delicious peach cobbler, Mr. Kimbrel led the men to his study and closed out the women and his youngest son. Zach prayed he wasn’t in for another discussion on the values of slavery. He’d heard his share over the years, and he definitely did not share the views of most Southern plantation owners.
Mr. Kimbrel lit a cigar and leaned against a large mahogany desk. “So, Captain Browne, do you fancy my daughter?”
Charlotte wanted to eavesdrop, but she had some food she needed to get out to the runaways. She went to her room, changed, and slipped into the kitchen without her mother noticing. Maggie was still cleaning up. “Don’t you be sneaking out there tonight, Miss Charlotte. I knows what’s going on. I’s take care of it.”
“But—”
“Don’t you never mind. I’s knows.”
“I can’t let you get caught. You’ll be whipped for sure.”
“I’s knows what I’s doing. Trust me.”
“I’ll let you feed them, but I’m taking them to freedom tomorrow. I can walk slaves down the street and no one will be the wiser. You can’t.”
Maggie nodded. “How many?”
“Three—a man, his wife, and a toddler.”
Maggie shooed her away. Charlotte stepped onto the servants’ stairs. “Who were you speaking with, Maggie?” Mrs. Kimbrel asked.
“Just some slave talk. I’s planning a real fine breakfast for ya in the mornin’.”
“Nothing too fancy. I ate too much this evening. You did a fine job, Maggie. I appreciate it.”
“Ain’t nothin’. Just doin’ my job.”
Charlotte needed to be more careful. She slipped back up the stairs to her room. She was putting not only the slaves she was helping escape in harm’s way, but also her own slaves. They would be blamed if the runaways were caught. No one would believe she was the one helping them escape. They’d rather think she was trying to cover for the slaves to help them avoid punishment.
“Charlotte!” her mother called. “Can you come down here, please?”
Fear washed over her. Charlotte stepped out of her room and approached the stairway.
“What are you wearing?”
“Sorry, Mother. I was changing into my nightclothes.”
Her mother waved her back up the stairs then turned her attention back to their guests. “I’m sorry, Charlotte is indisposed at the moment,” she could hear her mother say.
The next morning Charlotte attended to her chores then slipped out without further notice. She scurried to her hiding place. The plan was to have the male runaway push them down the Savannah in a pole boat and help them buy passage on a ship.
Maggie’s husband, Jed, came over to the dock. “Can I help you, miss?”
“No, we’re fine.”
“And how will you be bringing the pole boat back?” Jed asked.
“Oh.”
“Let me come with you and stay with the boat,” Jed pleaded.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, miss. We’s too old to run now.”
“Thank you, Jed.”
An hour later, they were in Savannah proper, and Charlotte was looking at the various ships, trying to find the right one to purchase passage for the family. The gentleman she usually worked with who helped process and hide the runaways at the church was out of town. She walked the streets, which were cobbled with old ballast stones from various ships that had come to the harbor. Mounds of cotton bales and barrels full of molasses and sugar syrup gave a unique smell to the air when mixed with the brackish water of the river.
The stern of one ship read the Lady Grace. She scanned the crew loading cargo. Standing next to the gangway was the familiar stance of—“Captain Browne?”
He turned. His smile brightened. “Miss Charlotte. A pleasure to see you this fine morning. How can I help you?”
“Are you heading north?”
He stiffened at her question then answered, “Yes.”
“May I purchase passage for this family?”
He narrowed his gaze then grabbed her by the elbow, moved her away from her runaways, and whispered, “Are you trying to have me arrested?”
“What? No. I simply want to purchase tickets for these slaves to visit up north.”
“Don’t lie to me. You’re smuggling them, aren’t you?”
She clamped her mouth shut. If she admitted it, she could be arrested.
“Fine,” he said, and she hurried back to her runaways. “Get on board.” He cracked a whip.
People turned, noticed he was moving slaves, and went back to their business, ignoring the captain as he placed them on his ship.
He came back. “Do you have papers?”
“Of course not.”
“You are something. Does your family know?” He pointed to the ship.
“Of course not.”
He wagged his head. “I’ll try to get them safely to the North, but there are no guarantees. Do you know your father offered your hand in marriage to me last night?”
“He what?”
“Seems he thought we had a lively conversation.”
Heat infused her cheeks. She relaxed her stance.
“Seems he’s concerned that his twenty-two-year-old daughter hasn’t married. He offered me a thousand-dollar dowry.”
Catching her voice, she asked, “What did you say?”
Zachery Browne chuckled. “I said I’d consider it. Truth be told, this is quite possibly my last trip to the South. My employers are losing interest in dealing with businesses down here.”
“That’s fine. I don’t think my father would approve of our courtship.”
Zachery laughed. “My dear Charlotte, you have no idea how much your father and brothers are concerned by your Yankee thoughts.”
“My Yankee thoughts?”
“Seems that you have expressed the wrongness of slavery on more than one occasion. Which was enough to convince James Tyler that you wouldn’t be a suitable wife for him.”
“Thank the Lord for that blessing.” Her face momentarily brightened.
“You’re a rare jewel among women, Miss Charlotte. I can offer you passage to the North as well, but I won’t be offering my hand in marriage.”
“That’s a relief.” She paused. “My place is here. I have a purpose working in…” she lowered her voice, “the Underground Railroad.”
“I am well acquainted with the secrecy. But you are far from discreet. You marched these slaves down the boardwalk without a care in the world. Your father is well known. His slaves are well known. Don’t you think someone would recognize you at some point?”
“Perhaps. But I’ve been freeing slaves for six months now.”
Captain Browne shook his head. “You are a marvel, Miss Charlotte. Have a good day.”
He turned and left her standing there on the ship-lined wharf. The heat of the sun and the rotting fish upset Charlotte’s stomach. She turned and headed back to Jed. Her father was trying to marry her off. Worse yet, he and her brother Davis didn’t want her around. What did she have to go back home for?
Charlotte told Jed to return to the plantation and to let her parents know she would be staying in Savannah for a night or two. She then headed straight to the bank and withdrew most of her money. She stopped at a couple of stores and purchased a carpetbag, some clothes, and other items for travel. Life in Savannah had just ended. She glanced back at Bay Street and headed toward the wharf. She might just be the first white woman to ride the Underground Railroad.