He left the covering of the trees, the healing stream, and made his way back into the world of white men. After a month in the spongy marsh, the ground outside was hard and dusty under his feet, and Nat Turner saw the roads and the farms differently. The world outside, with its houses and farms, had seemed natural to him before his time in the Great Dismal. Now, as he traveled back, it seemed to him that the trees had been taken captive and that much of the land had been starved, raped, and finally murdered.
All his life, his mother reminded him that they were captives and not slaves. As Nat Turner walked, he began to understand. There was hopelessness and resignation in the word “slave.” But there was hope for captives—captivity could be turned. Those held captive were stolen, and manstealing was a sin, a sin punishable by death.
On the third night after leaving the Great Dismal Swamp, Nat Turner had reached Southampton County and Cross Keys. He stood at the edge of Giles Reese’s farm. The house was dark except for dim candlelight shining from the window of the room where Cherry slept.
By now the ship that hired him had set sail. By now he could have been on board in free waters. Instead he was in Southampton about to give himself back into the hands of his captors. But he wanted to see his wife first. He wanted to, for once in his life, and maybe the only time, stand in front of her as a free man.
He hooted to her like an owl, hoping she would awaken and recognize his call. He hid himself behind a tree where he would be able to see her if she came to the back door. He called three times before he saw someone stirring inside. When she came to the door, Nat Turner stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself.
Cherry ran to him and wrapped him in her arms. He felt her warm tears on his face. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He ran with her to the great oak.
She whispered into his ear, “You could have gotten away. You could have hidden someplace where no one knew your name. I imagined you in Philadelphia or on board a ship sailing to Ethiopia. Why would you come back here?”
Nat Turner felt the warmth of his wife’s body pressed against his own. No man could separate them, no law. He might not see her, they might be miles apart, but they would always be one. “How could I leave the one who is my life? I will never leave you. I will never leave my family again.” They held each other and swayed underneath the moon and stars as if there was music playing. “I will never leave you.”
He was humbled by her love, by her beauty. She had been scarred and shamed, she had been abandoned, but she found the courage to still love him. “I will never leave you again,” Nat Turner promised.