December 24, 1858
Richmond, Virginia
Eli found Billy collecting their trunk and told him to wait while he purchased tickets for the next leg of their journey.
“Where are you going today, sir?” inquired a nervous clerk on the other side of the ticket window.
“I’m traveling to Philadelphia with my valet, a slave. How far can I go on this line?”
“It’s a long way to Philadelphia,” smiled the fellow. “I’m new on the job, so let me consult our schedules.”
He quickly scanned a sheet he pulled from a shelf under the ticket counter, running his finger down a column of figures, and then said, “It’s what I thought, sir. I can’t get you to Philadelphia, but I can get you to Baltimore by way of Washington. I’m afraid a different company runs the train from Baltimore to Philadelphia, and so you’ll have to buy a new ticket there.”
Eli nodded. “Baltimore will do just fine.”
A half an hour later, after loading their trunk, Ellie found herself alone with Will on the darkened platform next to their train. “I just wish I could put my arms around your chest,” she said to him. “We stand so close together, and yet I’m not even able to touch you.”
“Feeling a bit under the weather, sugar?” inquired Will with a hint of irony.
“I slept a long time on the train, and feel much better now,” she answered. “I’m sorry for getting so drunk. I had no idea about the effects of strong liquor. What I did was foolish and could have undone us. I’m sorry, Will.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Will said firmly. “It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to, and you did it bravely. All the kitchen slaves were laughing about the drunken toasts and the sight of you passed out on the floor. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” Then, ironic humor shining again in his eyes, he added, “Of course, you might have taken your role as a man a might too far.”
Ellie smiled back. “That’s the truth, but the news gets worse. You should know that I’ve already won the hearts of two young Southern belles, and their father wants me to come calling the next time I’m in Richmond. I’m afraid I’m practically engaged. The problem is which sister to choose? They were both quite smitten.”
Will covered his mouth to hide his laughter. “Ellie,” he choked out, “you old heartbreaker. How you going to let those poor girls down easy?”
“It sounds funny now, but that train ride made me as twitchy as a worm argued over by two robins,” said Ellie. “Those girls pestered me the whole trip, with the father watching me like a slave he was thinking of buying. And me feeling – and probably smelling – like three week old milk left out in the sun.”
“That’d be Mr. Williamson, the father?”
“How’d you know?” said Ellie, surprised.
“Oh, he came back to the slave car to talk to me when you were asleep. He wanted all the details about you. I told him what a fine gentleman you were and what a reputable family you come from, and he gave me a dime for my trouble and thanked me. I swear, Ellie, people just naturally take to you whether you’re a man or woman.”
“That is the Lord’s truth, Will!” said Ellie, exasperated. “All I want is to be left alone and yet every time I turn around people want to talk to me.”
“Or fall in love with you,” Will smiled, “just as I did.”
“Well, our next stop is Baltimore, Will. We’ll be there tomorrow. From there we change trains to Philadelphia.” She handed him the ticket to the slave car.
Will stared at it a moment, his expression serious.
“It won’t be long now,” said Ellie.
“It’s not that,” said Will. “On the train to Richmond there was another slave with me named Pompey. He had the hard face of a man who’s been flogged half his life, but when he talked to me, his eyes got bright. He asked me where I was going and I told him Philadelphia. He said, ‘I wish I was going with you. I hears there ain’t no slaves way over in them parts. Is that so?’
“I said I had heard the same.
“He said, ‘By God almighty, them is the parts for Pompey, and I hope when you gets there you don’t never come back, and don’t never follow that white buck back to this hot quarter no more, let him be ever so good. Freedom’s the thing and you grabs it, Billy, and don’t never, ever let it go no more.’
“I thanked him, and then he caught my hand between his two and gave it a hearty shake, and with tears streaming down his cheeks he said, ‘God bless you, and may the Lord be with you. When you gets the freedom and you’s sitting under your own wine and fig tree, don’t you forget to pray for poor Pompey. You hear? Don’t forget poor miserable old Pompey who ain’t never know’d a day a freedom, and you asks the Lord to bless him.’
“He was a tired old man, but he wept like a child.” Will shook his head, tears in his eyes. “I’ve never felt so poorly for a man,” he sighed. “I wish we could take him with us. The thing is, I wish we could take them all, God knows. I feel so selfish all of a sudden, thinking only about myself on this trip and worrying only about us, when there’s so many left behind.” His eyes looked sad and weary.
Ellie glanced around. No one was near or seemed to pay any attention to them. “Will,” she whispered fervently, “one step at a time. We do what we can and what the Lord puts in our power to do. He doesn’t give us a burden we’re not fit to carry. What He wants for us now is to get ourselves free. If we are brave and strong enough to take the Lord’s gift, we’ll spend the rest of our lives doing what we can for the rest of our people.”
Will shook his head with frustration.
“We’re not selfish,” she continued, “we are just doing what we can. We can’t help anyone else until we are free. You know that.”
Will sighed. “I know, Ellie, and your words are a comfort. Still, I wonder why the Lord chose us for this mission and not someone else. Are we deserving?”
“That is not for us to ask. Our job is to do what God asks. Lord knows, He doesn’t explain to us or anyone what the meaning of His plan might be.”
“And now we must part ways again,” Will said sadly.
Ellie straightened up and pulled a pocket watch from her waistband. “Yes, the train will soon depart,” she said loudly, “so you get this trunk on the train straight away, Billy. I don’t care how far from home you are, you’ll see your wife again soon enough so just you pay attention to what you’re about. We’ve got a long trip in front of us tonight, and I’ll see you in Baltimore tomorrow. Now step to it.”
Billy nodded repeatedly. “Yes, sir, Master Johnson, I’s right on it.”
Ellie watched Will dragging their luggage away and felt a rush of love for him that hurt in her chest. She wished she could run after him, laugh at her indiscretion of last night and wrap his strong arms around her so she could feel his beating heart under his chest and see the wry but loving smile of the man who knew her so well. This, however, could not happen until they were free in Philadelphia – if they made it to Philadelphia. With a sigh of longing, fear and determination, she climbed aboard the nearest railroad car.
Ellie passed through the general seating area and found a compartment where she hoped to spend the night sleeping alone on a cushioned bench.
She had hardly settled herself when a stout elderly lady, well dressed and with an air of aggressive self-assurance, forced herself through the compartment door to sit heavily on the opposite bench.
Ellie’s heart sank. Her new companion hesitated for the barest instant before a broad smile crossed her face. It was the sort of smile a woman uses to call her dog to her when actually intending to kick it.
Easing back into her male persona, Eli rose and bowed to her. “Good evening, Madam. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Elijah Johnson, a planter from just outside of Macon, Georgia.”
“Please,” she answered imperiously. “Sit down.”
The elderly woman wiped her rheumy eyes before shouting in alarm, “Bless my soul! There goes my nigger, Ned!” Horrified, Eli found her pointing at Will, who was standing out on the platform in line to put their trunk in the baggage compartment.
“Madam, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” said Eli. “That one is my boy.”
The woman paid no attention to Eli, but yanked open the window and bawled at Will, “Boy – Ned – march yourself over here, you runaway scoundrel!”
Will swung around, clearly startled and unsure whether to run or stand his ground. He stared blankly at the woman until he saw Eli giving him a nod of reassurance. “Billy,” Eli called calmly, “come here a moment. This lady has mistaken you for someone else.”
Billy approached the window. When near enough, the old woman grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged his face next to hers for a closer look. Billy eyed her back, clearly uncomfortable. Following a thorough examination she released him with a loud grunt.
Eli said, “It’s nothing, Billy. Go on and finish loading my things.” Eli noticed Billy trembling slightly as he walked away.
“I was sure it was my nigger,” said the old woman. “I never in my life saw two black pigs more alike than that boy and my Ned.”
She sighed, shaking her head and looking at Eli as if for the first time. “I am Mrs. Dorothea Greyson, and I have a farm not far from Manassas, Virginia.” Mrs. Greyson gave each word a sharp emphasis, obviously accustomed to ordering people around.
“I do hope, sir, that your boy will not turn out to be so worthless as my Ned. I was as kind to him as if he had been my own son. You cannot imagine how it grieves me to think that after all I did for him he should go off without having any cause whatsoever. I repeat, none,” she added with emphasis.
“When did he leave you?” asked Eli.
“About eighteen months ago.”
“Did he have a family?” Eli asked.
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Greyson shook her head emphatically. “Not when he left. He used to have a wife that he certainly did not deserve. Her name was Julie, and she was as good and as faithful a nigger as any one could wish to have. But, poor thing, she became so ill that she was unable to work. I thought it best to sell her to a slave owner from Louisiana where the weather is warmer. I knew a change of climate would improve her health.”
“How fortunate for her,” Eli said bleakly.
The old woman detected the bitter tone of his voice and frowned. Her head snapped up and she pointed an aggressive finger at Eli, stabbing the air as she said, “I knew what was best for Julie, but niggers never know the right thing to do. How she cried tediously on about leaving Ned and their nigger baby. I suppose it was Ned’s son, although you never know with those black trollops being so promiscuous.”
Mrs. Greyson sighed. “But she was so ill, the poor thing! Julie has my prayers, and I am sure she prays for me. She was a good Christian and it was through her acquaintance that I was first led to seek forgiveness of my sins. I was converted at a great camp meeting.” Mrs. Greyson sniffed at the memory of it and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbing it at her damp, narrow eyes.
“As Julie was such a very good girl and drew you to faith in the Lord, don’t you think it would have been better to have emancipated her?” Eli gently suggested.
Mrs. Greyson looked as though Eli had suggested she should fart loudly in public. “No, indeed I do not,” she exclaimed returning her handkerchief to her pocket. “I have no patience with people who set niggers at liberty. The very thought is unconscionable. The Negro has neither the means nor the intelligence to care for himself as we care for him.”
Shut up you old hag, thought Eli, struggling to maintain a neutral composure. “I am certain that your Christian values guide your actions,” he quietly observed to Mrs. Greyson.
“Just so!” she exclaimed. “If I had the money I lost because of that miserable runaway Ned, then I could do a great deal of good for the poor. I also consider it my Christian duty to help send missionaries abroad to the poor heathens who have never heard the name of our blessed Redeemer. My dear son, who is a good Christian minister, has advised me not to worry myself about Ned. I must not send my soul to hell for the sake of niggers.”
“Your son being a good Christian minister,” said Eli, “I’m sure that he counsels you the best that he can about runaway slaves.”
“Blast them!” exclaimed Mrs. Greyson with feeling. “If I ever find Ned I will cook him into infernal hash and tan his accursed black hide.”
Eli stared at her in shock, thinking of handsome Will in her clutches. What a fat, horrible, self-righteous, greedy, awful old excuse for a human being. Even hogs possessed more kindness. Still, he willed himself to keep silent.
Mrs. Greyson breathed heavily a moment, attempting to recover her composure. “You see to what distraction the devils drive me? I am completely overcome with nervous exhaustion.” With a jolt, the train moved and she thrust her face to the window, seeming to find the passing station of immense interest.
Eli felt relieved the conversation was over, but his pleasure was short lived.
Suddenly Mrs. Greyson wheeled her head back to Eli and hissed, “And I don’t like the looks of you, young man. You have the air of a Northern sympathizer, the kind of wealthy plantation owner who keeps his own slaves but helps others escape to the North. I do consider it my Christian duty to have a word with the train manager about this matter.”
Eli looked warily at this dangerous woman.
A quick knock at the door momentarily distracted them both. A woman peered into the compartment and said, “Excuse me, I was looking for someone but I see they are not here. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
To Eli’s astonishment, it was Mrs. Henderson again. What were the odds on encountering her for a second time on this journey, he wondered? He was relieved, however, to have this interruption in his “conversation” with Mrs. Greyson.
Mrs. Henderson hesitated, and then a broad smile crossed her face. “Why,” she said, “Mr. Johnson, isn’t it?”
He rose and bowed to her. “Mrs. Henderson,” he answered.
“May I join you for a moment? I didn’t expect to see you again so quickly.”
“Please do sit down,” Eli said. “I am surprised to see you, too.”
Mrs. Greyson sniffed and opened a book she began reading by lamplight. A minute later she was fast asleep, her face pressed against the window and snoring deeply.
Mrs. Henderson looked up and smiled at Eli. “How is your trip, sir?” she said. “You are going to Philadelphia, as I recall, to consult a physician.”
Eli nodded. “It goes well. Uneventful,” he lied. He did not know what to make of this woman. He found her intelligent and kind, but felt he must stay on his guard. Perhaps she suspected the truth and was attempting to draw him out. He certainly could not take that chance. “And yourself?” he asked. “I seem to recall you were going to stay with relatives in Savannah. I am surprised to see you here already.”
Mrs. Henderson shrugged. “I changed my mind. I’ve been away from home long enough. It’s time to return.” She paused a moment. “How do I delicately say that the Southern way of life is not all I expected it to be. I began to find my relations all the . . . well, the same.” She smiled. “And I missed my home. I’m sure you understand.”
He was sure he did not. The last place he wanted to be was “home.” If he had his way, he would never go there again. But he nodded and said, “I do understand.”
Mrs. Henderson took her leave, and the compartment was quiet again except for the snoring Mrs. Greyson. Ellie was too nervous to even think of sleep.