Back in No Time. Brion Gysin

’Siah. They’ll hunt us with the hounds and bring us back and whip us to death. You can’t, ’Siah. I won’t go.”

      He tried to persuade her that the chance for freedom was worth the risk, but she clung to her home and her children.

      “I’ll go alone. I’ll leave you now and go alone. If we stay, Master Riley will sell me soon and you’ll be alone anyway. I told you what I saw at Vicksburg. Before that, I’ll go alone. No, I’ll take the children too, all but the youngest.”

      The next day, when he left for the fields, she suddenly called him back and said that she would go, for she feared that he might go even then and not come back.

      The greatest difficulty was presented by the two youngest children, who were two and three years old. They would have to be carried, and so, night after night, Josiah went into training. He had his wife make a sort of knapsack of tow cloth, with straps to go round his shoulders. The children could be slung in this. Every night he walked the cabin floor until dawn, while the children laughed and crowed at the fun until they fell asleep. Finally he found that he could manage them for long stretches without tiring. Now it was time to decide on a night to depart.

      They chose a Saturday night because Sunday was a holiday, and on the following two days Josiah was supposed to oversee a job that was to be done on a farm some miles from the Big House. In this way, they would not be missed for some time, and it would give them a start on their pursuers.

      Little Tom, his eldest child, was away from the cabin, for the family kept him in the Big House to work in the kitchen, and permission would have to be obtained for him to come and visit his mother. Toward sundown Josiah went up to report on the week’s work, and after talking with the master for some time, started to turn away. “Oh, Massa Amos, I ’most forgot. Tom’s mother wants to know if you won’t let him come down a few days; she wants to mend his clothes, and fix him up a little.”

      “Yes, boy, yes. He can go.”

      “Thank ’ee, Mass’ Amos. Good night, good night.”

      He could not prevent himself from throwing a good deal of emphasis into that last “good night.” What a long good night to Massa that would be.

      It was about the middle of September, and by nine o’clock it was dark enough to start. No moon lighted their way down to the landing where another slave was waiting to row them across the river in a little skiff. They sat still as death, crouched together, and rowed into midstream, where the oarsman stopped.

      “It’ll be the end of me if this is ever found out; but you won’t be brought back alive, ’Sie, will you?”

      “Not if I can help it,” Josiah replied, thinking of the pistols and knife which he had bought some time back from a poor white on one of the outlying farms. “Not if I am shot through like a sieve.”

      “That’s all,” said the other slave, starting to row again. “And God help you.”

      They landed on the Indiana shore and began to beat through the wilderness, for they dared not approach the main highways. They walked on for two weeks by night, hiding by day, while Josiah carried the two children slung on his back. He did not know where to find any sympathizers, nor did he dare to look for any. There might be a few people in the neighborhood who were merely indifferent, but Josiah felt that most likely any white was an enemy who would send them all back to be beaten to death in order to claim the reward and protect the system.

      Actually, many houses in Ohio and Indiana were already marked with the secret signs which only those of the Underground could recognize. Three white bricks set in the wall beneath the eaves were a sign that a fugitive could safely knock on that door and expect to be taken in or sent along to the next “station” under the seat of a wagon. Henson was merely heading for Cincinnati as best he could, the North Star his only guide. Two days away from that city, where he depended on finding friends, he was forced to risk capture by daylight because his family was starving. His wife reproached him for having brought them into such danger. The children kept whimpering from hunger, and while he could speak sternly to his trembling wife, he could quiet them no longer. His back was now raw from the rubbing of the homemade knapsack; the only thing to do was to adopt a bold course of action.

      He walked quickly out onto the highroad and turned south, with the idea that it might lull suspicion should he meet anyone. At the first house to which he came, he was attacked by a dog whose owner curtly refused to accept his offer to buy bread and meat. At the next house a man answered in the same surly fashion, but his wife came quickly after him and said, “How can you treat a human so? If the dog was hungry you’d feed him. We have children of our own who may some day need a friend.”

      The man replied, laughing, “If you have need of such friends, then feed him,” and turned away.

      The woman put out a plate of venison and bread, refusing money when he offered her a quarter for it, and added more food, sending him on his way with a “God bless you.”

      He hurried back to where his family lay hidden and fed them. But almost at once they cried out for water because the meat was so salty. Josiah stole away to search out a stream, but having no container in which to carry water, he first tried his hat, which leaked, and then rinsing out his shoes, filled them and brought them back to drink from.

      The Henson family at last arrived at the outskirts of Cincinnati, and Josiah hid them in the woods while he entered the town at dusk to find the friends that he had made there among the Methodists. He was warmly greeted by them and sent to fetch his wife and children, but they could stay only long enough to rest and gather a little strength. The fugitive slave laws were federal statutes, and the town of Cincinnati was no longer safe. The power of these laws was such that they could reach into the free states to pluck back a fugitive. Methodist friends sent them on about thirty miles in a wagon, and then they again had to follow the same course as before: traveling by night and resting by day.

      They were told that when they arrived at a place called Scioto they would strike a military road which had been cut through the forest by order of General Hull during the War of 1812. The beginning of this road was marked by a large sycamore and elm grove, and they had been told they might travel along it by day. The road was safe because it had been cut through the wilderness and no one lived along it, nor was it much traveled. The road was considerably overgrown, and difficult, and when by nightfall they had passed no houses, they began to be alarmed, for they had brought few provisions with them. Furthermore, Josiah could now barely carry the two small children; the knapsack had rubbed all the skin from his back. They had further cause for alarm in the howling of the wolves, which they could hear in the darkness of the forest. However, they were not molested by these animals, and lay down to sleep.

      The next day they started off again with only enough salt-jerked beef to make them intolerably thirsty. The underbrush caught at them and tore their clothes, while the road was often blocked by wind-fallen trees over whose trunks the children and Charlotte could climb only with difficulty. Henson himself struggled on a short distance ahead. His wife fainted once, and continually moaned that she could go no further, that they were foolish ever to have left home.

      After struggling along for some hours, they saw a number of persons with heavy loads on their backs approaching around a bend, and, as they could expect to meet no friends, they were at once on the alert. Charlotte screamed that they were Indians and that they would all be scalped and killed if they did not run. The Indians continued to advance, while Josiah argued with his wife that it was useless to try to escape. Suddenly, the Indians, who were so heavily burdened that they had not raised their eyes from the ground until now, looked up and caught sight of the little group of Negroes. They stood stock-still for a frozen moment and then, hastily throwing off their packs, ran howling back, disappearing into the woods in all directions.

      His wife insisted that they had gone back to get help and would soon return in greater numbers, and begged Josiah to flee with her. He resolved, on the contrary, to follow them, for he was certain that it was terror that had caused their retreat, and assured her that it was a ridiculous thing for both parties to run away, stricken by mutual fear.

      The little