The March rains had given way to sunshine. The warmth of the Louisiana sun was welcome on Alex’s bare back as he scraped flaking varnish from the hull of the little sternwheel steamboat. Hearing a step behind him, Alex looked up. His arms loaded with cans and bags, Caleb grinned down at him. “Looks mighty fine. You intend stripping off that pretty name? Who was Sally Belle?”
Alex shrugged. “It was there when we bought the boat.”
Caleb reached out to stroke the bare wood. “Found a boiler man who’ll come out as soon as we get it afloat. Want I should go to scrapin’ too? There’s a powerful lot to be done on that boat.”
Alex stepped back to look at her blistered length. “All one hundred and twenty feet of her needs scraping and varnish.” He grinned at Caleb. “I’m getting anxious to try her out. If the weather holds fair, we should be putting the last coat on her about the end of April. If repairs on the engine are easy, and the boiler doesn’t need to be replaced, we’ll be on our way soon. Hopefully we can be moving up the Mississippi by the end of May.”
Caleb shook his head. “Me? I’m no steamboat man, but I don’t like the looks of the paddles. They seem wobbly like.”
Alex sighed, pushed his hair off his forehead and said, “Caleb, take that can of grease to the engine room. Careful, don’t rock her off the skids.”
Alex went back to his work. When Caleb rejoined him, he picked up a scraper and dragged it along the bow. “Does come off right smart.” He paused dreamily. “My, New Orleans is pretty—tulips and all just blooming their hearts out.” He chuckled. “The young ladies are all blooming out in spring colors too. Alex, you ought to be in town getting acquainted with them ladies instead of sticking out here on the mudflats. It’s not like you need to be running your pappy’s cotton patch; that Jim ’pears to be a good overseer.” As an afterthought, he added, “He don’t mistreat the field hands none.”
Alex threw Caleb a startled glance and then ducked his head to sight along the curve of the bow. “Thanks for being concerned about my love life, but to tell the truth, I hadn’t felt a lack. Guess I’d rather be scraping old varnish.”
In a minute, while the scratch of Caleb’s scraper spurred him on, Alex asked, “Caleb, are you married?”
“No, suh. Just as well. You folks keep me hoppin’ around.” He added hastily, “And that’s just fine with me.”
The morning sun positioned itself overhead and the only sound was the swish of the scrapers as they worked. When Alex straightened and stepped away from the dry-docked boat, he flexed his shoulders and sunburned arms while he studied the line of green separating the mudflats from the cotton fields.
The mudflats had created a border along the western edge of the fields, while its eastern edge was filled with old oak, redgum, and osage-orange. As he squinted into the sun, a rabbit hopped across the high ground and a flock of ducks rose from the marshy pond.
“Man, oh man,” Caleb muttered, “that drake would make good eating.”
Alex turned to look at the black man, only then conscious that Caleb’s words had replaced his contented humming. “Pretty tune you were humming—what was it?”
Caleb ducked his head apologetically. “Was ‘Steal Away’—to Jesus,” he added quickly slanting a glance at Alex.
“Steal away,” Alex said slowly as he flexed the blade of the scraper. When he abruptly raised his head, he caught Caleb’s eye. “Is that one of those songs that’s supposed to have a double meaning?”
Caleb fixed his eyes on the ground. “Guess so.”
Alex shifted his feet. “Look, I’m not down on you for having thoughts like that.”
Caleb straightened his shoulders, “I’m not; and suh, I’d rather be slave than cheat. You folks treat me good, and I try to be honorable.”
Alex sighed with resignation. Caleb’s words uncorked painful thoughts he had been avoiding. He recalled the Boston harbor incident with the runaway slave—Burns was the slave’s name. Strange how the man’s expression had carried its own message; even now it brought to mind words like demeaned and hopeless. Alex examined the sore spot in his own heart, the one that had grown there after exposure first to Mallory and then to the abolitionist, Garrison. At times he wondered if he would ever be able to shake those memories.
Glancing at Caleb’s bowed head, Alex took a deep breath and asked, “Don’t you have a desire to be free?”
The man shuffled his feet. Finally lifting his head, he said, “Even given all the druthers? Yes.”
“What are the druthers?”
His face twisted strangely before a slight smile appeared. “That my master decide I’m the best slave on earth and leave me a million dollars and a big plantation when he die.”
Alex tried to laugh with Caleb.
****
On the day they began laying the varnish on the boat, using broad, long strokes, Caleb asked a favor of Alex. Conscious of the rhythm created by their days of shared labor, Alex put aside his brush and turned to face the slave. “You want me to read the Bible to you? Why?”
“I don’t know how to read, and I want to learn some verses.” He stopped, took a deep breath, and added, “You have a Bible in your room; I saw it. See, back home I heard a brother talk about something, and I want to learn it.”
Alex thought about the Bible. It had been a gift from his mother just before he left South Carolina. They both recognized it as her frantic attempt to bridge the widening gulf between him and his father. He recalled the wall of hostility his Northern thoughts had created. Between the gesture Mother made and the expression on Father’s face, I nearly pitched that book in the fire, he mused, wincing as he thought of all the budding ideas he had tossed away in the angry moment. Garrison and Whittier had generated a lot of thoughts, coinciding with his passion to change the South, starting at his own doorstep.
He visualized his father’s face and admitted he dare not consider his desires. In the next moment he thought of Caleb. Where did family loyalties end and this strange responsibility begin?
He looked up and saw the eagerness on Caleb’s face. “Caleb,” he said slowly, “do you know that the Caleb in the Bible was known as a man of great faith?”
Caleb nodded as he spoke, “Yes, suh, and I think it would do me great good to be like him.”
“Then,” Alex said, “tomorrow I will bring the Bible with us. It seems more fitting to read it here, with the ducks squawking, the fish jumping, and the wind blowing through the gumtrees.”
“And the sun shining on us all.” Caleb beamed at Alex, and in a rush of words confided, “I want to learn Psalm forty and have you read to me in Deuteronomy, the fifteenth chapter, about all it means in the Psalm.”
“All it means?” Alex questioned, “Are you telling me your brother said Deuteronomy explains the Psalm?” Caleb nodded and Alex pursed his lips. “It could be just his own ideas, but we’ll take a look.”
The next morning, just outside his door, Alex discovered Caleb armed with bread and meat, tucked in with more turpentine and new brushes. With an eager grin, he waited. His dark eyes darted to Alex’s hand. Returning his grin, Alex said, “I didn’t forget. Did you remember the coffee?”
“No suh,” Caleb grinned happily, “but if you stack it on the turpentine, I can carry it.”
By ten o’clock Alex sensed Caleb’s fidgeting. Grinning at him over the tip of the bow, Alex said, “Aren’t you glad this boat draws just three feet of water?”
“If you going to take it on the Mississippi in the middle of summertime, ’tis best. Otherwise you be spending your life on a sandbar.” Caleb paused, adding, “There’s less to varnish.” Alex saw the question in his eyes.
“Let’s rest in the shade. I’m about to have sunstroke.”
Caleb sprang for the Bible, saying, “The sun dries the varnish fast.” He tried to appear nonchalant as they found a log to serve as a seat and pulled it into the shade.
“Now what was the Psalm?” Alex asked as he opened the black leather book.
“Forty, that’s a certainty. Now about the chapter in Deuteronomy, I’m not too clear on that. But it’s the one that starts out about having a servant, and poking a hole in his ear.”
For a moment Alex watched his slave over the top of the book. Caleb’s eyes were honest and eager as he asked, “Would you point out the words?”
Still busy with his thoughts, Alex found the place and read with divided attention as he pondered the effect of the words on Caleb. Nearly halfway through the Psalm, Caleb lifted his hand. “That’s it, suh, read it again, about sacrifices.”
Alex searched for the words and heard them for the first time. “‘Sacrifice and offering thou didst not desire; mine ears hast thou opened: burnt offering and sin offering hast thou not required.’”
“That’s it,” Caleb said, leaning forward to touch the print. “That’s just what Jam said. It’s talking about the Lord Jesus, telling all about Him coming to die for us. Now look over in Deuteronomy.”
Alex looked bewildered. Caleb poked at the book. “In the front of the book, pretty close to the beginning.” With his head nearly obscuring the page, Caleb’s finger moved to the number. “Fifteen. I know my numbers. Now go part way down. What does that say?”
Alex read, “‘And if thy brother, an Hebrew man, or an Hebrew woman be sold unto thee, and serve thee six years; then in the seventh year thou shalt let him go free from thee.’” Alex began thinking about the strange request, but now the words demanded attention. “‘And thou shalt remember that thou wast a bondman in the land of Egypt and the Lord thy God redeemed thee: therefore I command thee this thing to day. And it shall be, if he say unto thee, I will not go away from thee; because he loveth thee and thine house, because he is well with thee; Then thou shalt take an awl, and thrust it through his ear unto the door, and he shall be thy servant for ever….’” Alex lowered the book and saw the tears on Caleb’s face. Mystified, Alex asked, “What does it mean?”
“It’s the Lord Jesus. He was willing to be a slave, just like we are, only He wanted to be a slave, because of us. Now read the Psalm again. I want to get the words out so’s I can rightly appreciate the thought.”
Alex lifted the book, but his attention was not on the words before his eyes; instead he clung to the words Caleb was saying. “The Lord Jesus comes. When He understand what the Father wants of Him, He say, ‘Father, I don’t want to be free, I want to do Your will, even if it means going to the cross and dying so all these sinful men, living down here, still can have a chance to make it to heaven.’” He paused and looked imploringly at Alex. “You understand it? See, it’s just like those slaves saying ’poke that awl through my ear, and everybody know I belong to you.’ That’s what Jesus said to the Father; that’s what we’re to be a saying to Jesus: ’Poke the hole in my ear, so I can’t ever run out on you, Lord.’”
Alex closed the book and leaned toward the black face. Tears still rolled down Caleb’s cheeks. When he could trust his voice, Alex said, “That’s a big thing to you, isn’t it.”
Caleb looked astonished for a moment, and then understanding crept across his face. “You say I know about being a slave, and you don’t. Yes, suh, we all know. When you know what freedom isn’t, then somehow it gets to you, more’n otherwise. But I suppose since God knows everything and how everybody feels, then for Him to take up being a slave with no turning back, even to dying—well, that’s something. ’Least ways, we still hope,” he ducked his head, “about freedom.”
Late that night—in the midnight hours—with the night as dark as Caleb’s face, Alex knew the story had wedged itself into his heart. Were those Jewish eyes soberly regarding him across time, wondering if he would join the crowd of slaves?
Other eyes he couldn’t avoid haunted him as well. Garrison’s. The man’s eyes had burned a hole in his arguments, shaming him down under his veneer of righteousness. And Whittier. He had said he treasured the change God had made. How that statement challenged!
****
In the following days, under the light of the blazing sun while the varnish slowly sheathed the boat, Caleb gave a torrent of sermons. The daily words from Psalm forty and Deuteronomy fifteen were not only seared into the man’s mind, but were winged to his tongue, demanding daily utterance. Alex dared not stop the flow of one word. It was important. “De Lord say He forgive me all my sins, my thieving and whoring, my gettin’ my brother into trouble and causing sin. De Lord say it. But until I say, ‘Lord Jesus I believe it,’ then no suh, I can’t believe.
“Know what repentance mean? Jam heard it from a white preacher. I don’t know where he heard it, maybe from the Lord himself. Repentance mean turn around in your tracks and go the right direction and don’t never come back the wrong way again.”
On that final day, working quickly and in silence, they finished spreading varnish. Caleb regarded the empty spot where the name Sally Belle had been. “Alex, suh, what you want us to put there?”
Alex took a deep breath. Wiping his hands he said, “I think I need to make a quick trip into town. Go over those patches between the texas and the pilothouse. When I come back, we’ll be ready to paint on a new name.”
Caleb’s face brightened. “How about getting some pretty gold paint for the name?”
Alex returned in the late afternoon. The boat, still tilted on its skids, revealed Caleb’s heels resting on the texas railing. Tossing his cap, Alex called out, “Matey, all hands on deck!”
Caleb’s face appeared, a grin dividing his face as he said, “You got a haircut and a fancy red cap!”
“The cap and the paint are for you. I’ll stencil in the letters and you paint them.”
He headed for the bow with his stock of rules and a square. Caleb came to lean over his shoulder as Alex lifted out the stencils. “What does it say, Alex suh?”
“Golden Awl.”
Caleb backed away, studied the stencil and frowned. “Might be Sally Belle isn’t so bad after all. What’s a golden awl?”
Feeling slightly ridiculous, Alex leaned forward and lifted his hair away from his ear. “What do you think this means?”
Caleb looked at the tiny hoop of gold in the pierced ear, frowned, and then glanced at the stencil. Now his eyebrows slid up. Taking a step away from the boat, he drawled, “Massa, dat a mighty big awl for the job.”
“Might be the Lord thought it would best fit the need,” Alex muttered. “I have something else for you.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Caleb.
As Caleb slowly unfolded the paper, Alex said, “It’s a legal paper, Caleb. It says that Alexander Duncan does hereby release one slave, May 22, 1857, by the name of Caleb, known by registered number 8477l.
“Caleb, you are free, but I need a first mate. So I will offer you a job, paying you the sum of fifty dollars a month plus all living expenses.”
For a minute longer, Caleb stared at the paper. Blinking his eyes, he looked up at Alex. “I’m free?” He paused, took a deep breath and as Alex watched, he stretched tall and proud. “Do I have to take the job?”
“No, but I will miss you. If the pay isn’t enough—”
Caleb grinned, “I’m proud to be your mate, suh!”
Alex stuck out his hand. “Put it there, partner!”
Caleb was shaking his head in a bewildered way as he hesitated before taking Alex’s hand. “Now I’m free and you is the slave. But suh, it’s good to be the slave of the Lord Jesus Christ.”
“Caleb,” Alex said slowly, “I’ll always be grateful to you for helping me understand what it really means to be a bondservant of the Lord Jesus Christ. In my mind it lacked glory until I heard you saying it out in a dozen different ways.” A moment later, he added, “Caleb, you haven’t asked where we’re going with this boat.”
“Suh, where—”
Alex settled down on the railing. “While I was in Boston I met some men who are doing their best to help escaped slaves leave the United States by going into Canada. Caleb, it’s wrong. Legally, if they catch us they’ll have a right to put us in jail. Maybe worse. But since talking to some of these men, I can’t get away from the idea that it needs to be done. And quickly. Every day that passes makes the going more difficult.”
Caleb squinted up at him. “De Lord want you to do this?”
Alex nodded. “Yes. And I know this most certainly. Until last night I wasn’t sure.” He glanced at Caleb with a crooked grin. “Thanks to your sermons, I began to understand. And you said you have to say the words. When I told the Lord I would become a part of the Underground Railroad, it was like a mountain slid off my back.”
Caleb’s eyes were wide and shiny with tears. “De railroad. For a long time I hear about it. Sometimes black people disappear, and someone whispers ‘railroad.’ Now I’m partners in it!” He got to his feet, shaking his head he went to the pilothouse and slowly caressed the new varnish.
Alex wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. Then he stooped and picked up the red cap. “Matey, you can’t learn steamboatin’ without a hat.”