Snowbound

My flimsy leatherbound shoes kept sinking in the blanket of snow that hugged the ground as we trekked through bone-chilling gusts of wind that threatened to blow me away. The sky was dark, but the stars and moon illuminated our path as we pressed on. The branches of White Oaks and Elm trees struggled to support the never-ceasing blizzard as snowflakes stuck to them. We were confined to traveling only at night, for fear of being detected by Confederates, slave hunters, or anyone wielding a gun because we were severely vulnerable. As much as we wanted to stop and find shelter, food, and warmth, we had no choice but to continue this dangerous journey to the Potomac River. There, our freedom waited. For this dangerous feat, we had to endure four perilous river crossings. The James River would be the first and the most difficult of them all. With it being just south of Richmond, word got out quickly that three runaways were making a break for it.

It wasn’t long before we heard the ominous thunder from horses’ hooves, and the horrifying wails of hounds, dauntingly informing us that they had our scent implanted in their minds. They would mull over our musk until our dark flesh met their menacing canines. We knew the consequences of getting caught, but with it being the dead of winter, our owners had let their guard down. The temptation of sweet freedom and the heightened sense of security knowing we had a slightly better chance at obtaining it, drove us to act out of sheer madness. Tendy, a robust man with ebony skin, dragged along Barbury, his wife. Her slender hand gripped her protruding belly that held their soon-to-be born child.

Tendy was the mastermind behind our plans. I recall several weeks prior to our escape; I ran into him and Barbury arguing quietly outside the shack where she and I slept along with the other female slaves. Even the boisterous songs of crickets and frogs failed to mask the two of them. I crept to the front door and opened it slightly to see them bickering over a piece of paper. Not many knew that Tendy and Barbury could read. They weren’t fluent, but they could put words together because their previous owner was one of the few plantation owners in Virginia that had no problem teaching their slaves to read and write. Their studies ended abruptly when their owner was forced to sell them to save his plantation. Barbury and Tendy were fortunate to be sold together, but they were forced to leave behind their two sons. I didn’t know it at the time, but in Tendy’s hand, he held a Virginia state map. In his other hand, he had somehow gotten ahold of a pen that he had used to mark the four rivers that would lead us to freedom.

The tattered door to the shack groaned, alerting Barbury and Tendy. Their eyes met mine, forcing me to step outside into the night. The slight chill of autumn tickled my bare arms, awakening the goosebumps and fine hairs. Barbury looked to Tendy with a worried look on her face, but Tendy’s remained even.

“I’s sorry,” I said calmly. “Jus’ wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Tendy sighed. “I ain’t heard how loud we was,” he said in a hushed voice. He quickly folded the map into a tiny square and kicked his shoe off to hide it inside. He then hid the pen in his thick afro where it stayed out of sight. Tendy then stepped back into his shoe, his gaze never leaving mine.

I thought for a moment before I turned towards the shack door. My back now to the both of them, I paused briefly, pondering the next words that would leave my mouth.

“It ain’t my business,” I began. “Whatever it is, I’s can help.”

“You can’t,” Tendy said coolly. “I mean, how do we know you ain’t gonna go tell Massa Thomas about it? Hany, we…”

Barbury shot Tendy a warning glance, but Tendy held his composure.

“This very conversation can guarantee us all gettin’ killed.”

I shrugged. “Then it’s just my time.”

After a little more persuasion, Tendy and Barbury let me into their scheme. At the time, it seemed so well thought out. We worried about the cold, but I assured them I was able to talk to Basil, one of the few house slaves, to “borrow” a few garments from our owner’s closet. The Bacon family was so fabulously well of, they wouldn’t notice clothes missing. She managed to hide scarves, small quilts from the children’s room, and thick stockings in her bosom and corset. She would bring everything to our shack. We would then hide the extra garments underneath the floorboard. Basil had no problem risking her life to help us along if we promised to help her escape too. I didn’t know her age, but she was older than all of us.

The inevitable would happen a few days before we planned to run. Madam Eliza would notice a pair of gloves missing that were purposely placed on her dresser as Basil cleaned. We heard that woman yelling from all the way out in the fields. To our astonishment, Basil didn’t show an ounce of fear, even as they bound her arms around the Whippin’ Tree in front of everyone. Massa Thomas himself whipped Basil, smiling as the whip took pieces of her flesh with it after each strike. Basil held her screams in her throat until he had finished. I couldn’t stop staring at the open wounds that had taken over her once bare back, pure of disobedience.

The very next morning, we buried Basil in the overgrown, woeful graveyard of Bacon’s Castle. Our ancestors restlessly slept where they slaved their entire lives, and their ancestors before them. We worked in the scorching heat, the rain, and the freezing cold for the white man. We raised their babies better than we raised our own, all to have them grow up to hold the whip that tore you to pieces.

A few more months passed, bringing the coldest winter along with it. My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest as the three of us made a beeline for the James River. It took only three days to make it there, but seeing how exhausted we were, we soon began to realize that this trip was more than likely, suicide. We bundled up in all the clothes Basil had stolen and were still shivering violently from the harsh mountain breeze as we crept closer up North. The first night of running was horrifying to say the least, but we managed to lose the dogs after crossing the James River, icy and terrifyingly fast.

Not many hunters came after us after we had crossed the James River. With winter settling in, most of them assumed that we would starve and freeze to death. They were nearly right. We had only collected enough cornbread, seeds, and dried deer meat that we could carry. Most of our rationings went to Barbury so her baby could stay strong. Tendy and I were almost always hungry, but the desire for freedom kept our spirits high.

Barbury lead the three of us because she was the slowest. She wobbled in the snow, her swollen belly weighing down on her. I was skeptical if we should even be out this way with her being so close to delivering, but Barbury simply refused to let the baby come until she became free. Together we had crossed York River unscathed, followed by Rappahannock River, inching closer to the Potomac River after a little over a month of having ran away from Bacon’s Castle.

I was so proud of us, especially Barbury who was due at any given time. It would be so rewarding to see her baby born free. I hoped to learn how to read and write. I would read every book known to mankind, and I would write about the life I had lived so far. I began to develop so much purpose that I couldn’t contain my composure at times. I would skip along in the snow, laughing and clapping my hands while Tendy and Barbury chuckled, remembering my true age. I would be fifteen in a few weeks.

We had made it to a clearing. A few meters ahead of us, we could see the misty white reflection of a pond. The further we ventured away from Bacon’s Castle, the more we began to travel in daylight. We were still very cautious and aware of our surroundings but failed to hear the lone rider working his horse towards us in the thick snow that covered the ground. As he came closer, I could see the mist sprouting from the nostrils of the mighty animal as the white man furiously kicked its sides, narrowing in on us faster than we could shuffle through the snow.

Barbury’s heavy breathing as Tendy assisted her quickly turned to screams of panic as we quickly realized we were going to be caught. I knew I had to do something because we were so close to the end. We were going to make it. I glanced over at Tendy. He didn’t see me because he was too busy dragging Barbury along. I said a small prayer for myself and ran slightly off to the left, closer to the frozen pond.

Behind me, I heard the horse whine as its rider pummeled in my direction. I knew he would do this, because if he caught me, then he could go back for the slower Tendy and Barbury. I continued to shuffle along in the snow, willing myself to be strong and brave. I could feel the horse’s breath on my neck. I quickly looked behind me and met the gaze of the blue-eyed man with death in his eyes. My soul left my body holding this gaze with a white man for so long. Soon my feet hit the hard surface of the pond. I slipped but quickly gained my composure, gliding further out onto the ice. With a thud, the man had fallen off his horse as it slid around trying to gain control of its footing. It bayed as it quickly forced its way on sturdier ground. Spooked, it sprinted away back towards the clearing. It was just me and the white man on the ice. He took a shaky step forward, holding a pistol in his right hand, finger on the trigger. I glanced down, noticing that all the commotion distressed the ice.

I again thought about the life I would have as a free woman.

With a silent prayer, I charged the man. The sound of a single gunshot echoed in the clearing. I felt nothing as my body collided with his. We both fell through the ice encompassing the pond. The water froze the pain that tried to seep through my side as I embraced the struggling man. We descended into the pond, its depths dark and eerie. The man broke free but struggled in the freezing water as he tried to reach the opening from where we fell in. His clumsy movements in the water proved that he couldn’t swim, but I didn’t celebrate. We crossed three rivers, but I hadn’t been this deep in water. I didn’t panic as the coldness continued to surround me. With my last breath, the sunlight from the breach in the ice drifted further away from me. I was cold, but I was finally free…

***

Barbury and Tendy cooed over their newborn daughter in the warmth of an infirmary. None of this would’ve been possible without the selfless act committed by their friend. In her honor, the two decide to name their daughter Hany. Born a free girl in Maryland, she would develop a love of reading and writing.