Storm Clouds Rolling In Page 38

  “Mr. Borden!”

  Robert had just mounted his horse, and now he turned around impatiently. He was on his way to the first drill for the Goochland County Cavalry unit he had founded. It had irked him to see all the militia units marching the streets the last time he had been in Richmond. More than anything, he wanted to see the country remain united, but if the worse came, he hadn’t changed his mind. He would fight. It had been easy to find eager young men like himself who wanted to be prepared for any contingencies.

  “What is it, Jacobs?” he asked tersely as his overseer reined in his blowing horse. Robert looked with disapproval at the horse’s heaving sides.

  “Two of your slaves are missing, Mr. Borden,” he said tautly.

  Robert went rigid in his saddle. “What? Are you sure?” he asked tightly.

  “I’m sure, Mr. Borden. Two slaves are missing from White Hall down the road, too. Michaels down there thinks they are together. They used to all be from Oak Meadows, but you sold the two men a couple of years back. The two women missing from here are their wives.”

  “How did they get away?” Robert asked angrily. “Where were you?”

  Jacobs flushed but didn’t look away. “I was doing my job, Mr. Borden. You told me to take the men and clear off the bottom field. When I got back, they were gone.”

  Robert cursed and his face twisted with anger. Immediately, he was eleven years old, seeing his father ride off to hunt down the nigger who had killed him. He took a deep breath. “Get the dogs, Jacobs. We’re going after them.” His voice was deadly calm.

  Jacobs stared at him and then nodded. “I’ll be right back with the hounds, Mr. Borden. Them niggers can’t be far!”

  Robert didn’t hear him. He was already planning the chase. He vaulted off his horse and ran into the house. Minutes later he reappeared; patting his waist to make sure his pistol was secure. All thoughts of the Goochland Calvary Unit had fled his mind. Only one thing was important. To catch those slaves and teach them the lesson once and for all that they were no more than animals.

  Carrie leaned back against the log in her special place and took deep breaths of the brisk afternoon air. Grateful for its warmth, she hugged her cloak around her body. The vibrant red, orange and yellow hues of the trees filtered the sunlight and cast a golden glow over the clearing. It was wonderful to be there. Carrie tried to think of the last time she had been alone. And then, unbidden, memories of her last time there rose in her mind and flashed across her eyes as if it were actually happening. Robert holding her gently... Telling her he loved her… Her stopping him... Carrie shoved the thoughts back firmly. The combination of Aunt Abby’s letter and her mother’s words had made her realize she could no longer run. The time was now.

  She reached into her deep pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers. She had heard her father talk about these papers many times. She knew they formed the basis for his beliefs about slavery. She had taken them from his office so she could find out for herself what they said. She laid them on the ground next to her, and then reached into her other pocket and pulled out the thick envelopes she had been receiving from Aunt Abby. A Bible followed next. When she was surrounded, she stared out at the river for a long moment and then picked up the first stack.

  The Scriptural theory respecting the origin of Slavery, may be stated, in brief, thus: The effect of sin - disobedience to God’s laws - upon both individuals and nations, is degradation. A people under this influence, continued through many generations, sink so low in the scale of intelligence and morality as to become incapable of safe and righteous self-government. When, by God’s appointment, slavery comes upon them - an appointment at once punitive and remedial; a punishment for sin actually committed, and at the same time a means of saving the sinning people from that utter extermination which must otherwise be their doom, and gradually raising them from the degradation into which they have sunk.

  Negroes are condemned to slavery by Noah’s curse of Canaan, as recorded in Genesis. But there is hope! Of the remedial operation of slavery, we have a striking illustration in the case of the African race in our own country. In the history of nations, it would be difficult to find an instance in which a people have made more rapid progress upward and onward than the African race has made under the operation of American slavery. That they have not yet as a people, attained a point at which they are capable of safe self-government, is, we believe, conceded by every one personally acquainted with them, and therefore capable of forming an intelligent opinion. That it may take generations yet, to accomplish the gracious purposes of God in inflicting slavery upon them, is very possible. The work which it has taken ages to do, it often takes ages to undo. But nothing is more certain than that God’s plan has operated well thus far.

  Carrie laid the paper down and frowned. Memories of her father quoting from this paper still rang clearly in her head. She shook her head and reached for another stack of papers. The sun sunk lower in the sky as her shining ebony head bent in concentration.

  Slavery is authorized by the Almighty himself! The examples are many: Noah’s curse of Canaan; Abraham with his bond servants; the Hebrew servants......

  The treatment of slaves, especially as it regarded the degree of correction which the master might administer, occurs in Exodus. “If a man smite his servant or his maid with a rod and he die under his hand, he shall be surely punished. Notwithstanding if he continue a day or two, he shall not be punished, for he is his money.” Here we see that the master was authorized to use corporal correction toward his slaves, within certain limits. When immediate death ensued, he was to be punished as the judges might determine. But for all that came short of this, the loss of his property was held to be a sufficient penalty.

  Unbidden, a scene from her childhood floated into Carrie’s mind. She had been only six or seven, and spending several days at the Blackwell Plantation. A slave had been found missing just before she returned from a clandestine meeting with her husband at the next plantation. Blackwell had insisted she be made an example and then turned to walk into his house. Curious, she and Louisa had followed the overseer and the frightened woman. Carrie had never been able to erase from her mind the terrified screams of the woman as the lash had fallen repeatedly on her bare back. She had strained against the bonds that secured her to the whipping post, and had begged for mercy - but there had been none. Carrie had run sobbing from the awful scene, but had never been able to rid her mind of the picture. Tears once more clouded her vision as she continued to read....

  “In the relation of master and slave, there is incomparably more mutual love than can ever be found between the employer and the hireling. And I can readily believe it, for the very reason that it is a relation for life, and the parties, when rightly disposed, must therefore feel a stronger, and deeper interest in each other. Slaves are the happiest laborers in the world. Their wants are all provided for by their master. Their families are sure of a home and maintenance for life. In sickness they are kindly nursed. In old age they are affectionately supported. They are relieved from all anxiety for the future. Their religious privileges are generously accorded to them. Their work is light. Their holidays are numerous. And hence the strong affection which they usually manifest toward their master, and the earnest longing which many, who were persuaded to become fugitives, have been known to express, that they might be able to return. Perhaps a fugitive comes along, who has fled from his master and who in justification of himself, will usually give a very distorted statement of the facts, even if he does not invent them all together. People are easily deceived - their good and kindly hearts believe it all implicitly, without ever remembering the rule about hearing both sides before we form an opinion.

  Aunt Abby’s strong face and shining, intelligent eyes rose in Carrie’s mind. She was not a woman to be easily deceived. Carrie thought of the roomful of people she had watched grieve as Harriet Masters haltingly told her story. Willing to defy the laws that insisted runaway slaves be returned to t
heir owners, they gave of their time and their money. Only a deep belief could motivate such actions. Carrie also knew that a vast number of slaves were treated humanely. For all of her life, she had considered the Cromwell slaves as part of her family. There had been a genuine love given and received. A great many of her father’s friends felt the same paternalistic way as he did about their slaves. Surely there was good in that! She shook her head. Was there really an answer to this?

  The next few pages rambled on at great length, but Carrie was able to cull the meaning out of the voluminous words.

  The Declaration of Independence states that “all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” The truth is that men are not created equal... every sensible person must know we are not all equal...... a vast diversity among the races of mankind.......the highly privileged Anglo-Saxon which now stands at the head....... All men are born equal? The proposition is a sheer absurdity. All men are born unequal in body, in mind, and social privileges. Their intellectual facilities are unequal. Their education is unequal. Their associations are unequal. Their opportunities are unequal...... Those who take the lead are sovereigns. It is their job and their mission to rule over those less equal. The writers of the Declaration of Independence surely were never referring to the Negro race or to other inferior people. Surely no one could imagine that these men intended to stultify themselves by declaring that the Negro race had rights, which nevertheless they were not ready to give them. They quite simply were not considered.

  Carrie’s head pounded unmercifully as she plowed on.....

  .....the Negro is happier and better as a slave than as a free man..... it is simply true that the Negro is intellectually inferior...... freedom will but sink the ex-slave lower into his degradation...... he will never be fitted for freedom....... it is kindness to keep the slave in bondage.....

  Carrie lowered the papers and sighed. Then, with grim determination, she reached for the stack of envelopes from Aunt Abby. The older woman had been sending her little bits of information about the Abolitionists in her last letters. Not an attempt to control your thinking, she had written - just more information to throw around in your head as you try to reach a conclusion in your battle. Carrie had smiled and laid them aside. There had been too much else going on to consider more. Now she was ready. The only way to make an intelligent decision was to consider both sides. She knew most of her friends wouldn’t even have bothered. They were content to continue on as they always had - believing the things they had been taught to believe. Her heart had been troubled for a long time - but was there evidence against slavery that would trouble her mind as well?

  The sun sank even lower in the sky as Carrie poured over the information - jumping back and forth to her Bible to double-check references. Granite snorted impatiently, but his mistress was too engrossed to hear him. She raised her head occasionally to stare out over the water, then lowered it back to her task. Finally, she leaned back against her log. Deep in thought, she allowed all she had read to filter through her mind.

  She had often heard that immediate emancipation would cause social disintegration and economic decline, because Negroes would not be able to bear freedom responsibly. This theory had been disproved by an intense study of the emancipation of 800,000 slaves in the West Indies. The free Negroes had actually worked harder, because now they were working for themselves.

  Another argument she had heard many times was that American slavery was a socially beneficial system and that Negroes fared better as slaves than freedmen. But a system which allowed such deprivation and violation of human rights and such cruelties could not be called beneficial. One over-riding theme that ran throughout the Abolitionist’s literature was the one that most caught her heart and mind, however.

  Jesus said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all they soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.

  Carrie frowned, deep in thought as she allowed this verse to run over and over through her mind. Jesus had said clearly that a Christian was not to treat others worse than he himself would be treated. The battle raging in her head was relentless, but this time she was going to fight through. She wanted to know the truth. She picked up a single sheet of paper and leaned back to read again the letter from the Quaker, John Woolman.

  Dear Friends,

  If we continually bear in mind the royal law of doing to others as we would be done by, we shall never think of bereaving our fellow-creatures of that valuable blessing liberty, nor to grow rich by their bondage. To live in ease and plenty by the toll of those whom violence and cruelty have put in our power, is neither consistent with Christianity nor common justice, and we have good reason to believe draws down the displeasure of Heaven; it being a melancholy, but true reflection, that where slave keeping prevails, pure religion and sobriety declines as it evidently tends to harden the heart and render the soul less susceptible of that Holy Spirit of love, meekness, and charity, which is the peculiar character of a true Christian. How then can we, who have been concerned to publish the Gospel of universal love and peace among mankind, be so inconsistent with ourselves as to purchase such who are prisoners of war, and thereby encourage this unchristian practice.... Let us make their case our own, and consider what we should think, and how we should feel, were we in their circumstances. Remember our blessed Redeemer’s positive command “to do unto others as we would have them to do unto us” (Luke 6:31); and that “with what measure we mete, it shall be measured to us again” (Luke 6:38)..... “Love one another,” says he, “as I have loved you,” (John 15:12). How can we be said to love our brethren and bring, or for selfish ends keep them in bondage. If it be for your own private gain, or any motive other than their good, it is much to be reared that the love of God, and the influence of the Holy Spirit is not the prevailing principle in you, and that your hearts are not sufficiently redeemed from the world.

  Carrie laid the paper aside and buried her aching head in her hands. Her father would say this letter was the emotional pandering of one who had no understanding of the destiny southern plantation owners had inherited from God. Truly, there was good and bad on both sides. There were many slaves, who emancipated, had floundered in their freedom and not been able to make it. Many more had built wonderful lives for themselves. There were many slaves who were well treated and cared for by their owners. There were many who were abused and treated as nothing but animals and property. Suddenly Sarah’s words popped into her head...

  “Ain’t nothin’ more I’d like den to be free, Miss Carrie. Slavery don’t just take a person’s body. It tries to take their soul - their mind. It tells dem they ain’t really a person - just a thin’ to be used by someone else.”

  She could see Sarah sitting serenely in her straight-back chair, gazing at her with steady eyes. Sarah had been at Cromwell for twenty years. She was well treated - yet all she wanted was to be free.

  “It’s true dat some black folk ain’t as smart as some white folk, but dats just because dey ain’t had the chance to learn.” Then she had added with a quiet twinkle in her eye, “I know some white folk who ain’t nearly as smart as some black folk I know. The color of the skin don’t make no difference. It’s what be in the head and heart that count.”

  Tears filled Carrie’s eyes as the battle intensified, knotting her stomach till she felt sick. What was the truth? She knew what other people thought, but she desperately needed the truth. They all claimed to base their beliefs on Scripture, but they couldn’t all be right!

  Ask me.....

  The voice was inaudible, but clear in her heart. Carrie’s eyes drifted to the Bible in her lap.

  My voice is the only one that counts. The only way to know truth is to know my heart.

  Tears filled Carrie’s eyes as she rose, turned toward the log,
and sank to her knees. Resting her arms on the moss-covered surface, she raised her eyes toward the sky. “God, please! What is the truth?” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably as the confusion of the past six months overwhelmed her.

  Gradually she calmed. She had no idea how long she had been there when she finally raised her head. She looked toward the river and was shocked to see the sun just dipping below the violet horizon. She jumped up and hurried to Granite. Her mother and father would be frantic if she wasn’t home by dark.

  “Thank you for being so patient, boy!” She gave Granite a big hug, led him to the log, and mounted lightly. With a heart full of peace and resolve, she turned toward home. She had her answer. She sang softly as she allowed Granite to pick his way through the darkening woods. She would deal with the consequences of her decisions later. For now, it was enough to know she had her answer. She knew God’s heart.

  It was almost dark when Robert stomped onto his front porch.

  “You didn’t find them?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  Robert spun to see his mother gently gliding back and forth on the porch swing.

  “No,” he said shortly. “I’m sorry. I guess we’re another statistic of the Underground Railroad. I sent Jacobs to find some slave hunters, but I don’t hold much hope they will find them. Those Yankees have perfected their ability to steal our property.” He made no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice.

  “I’m glad you didn’t find them,” his mother said softly.

  “What?” Robert stared at her in disbelief. “How can you say that? Those two women are worth over a thousand dollars each. Do you know how many children they have birthed for us?”