A Deeper Sense of Loyalty by C. James Gilbert Page A

just quietly go along with him. James knew that, in spite of the situation, some slaves became very loyal to their masters. Others might be afraid to attempt escape; still others might just think that he was crazy.
    James understood that he could never, ever, fail to keep in mind how the slave owners, and southern people in general, would feel about what he was doing. Without question, it was a serious undertaking. Still, it would be important not to dwell on the danger. He must not lose his respect for the risks but he must lose his fear of them.
    It was eleven o’clock at night; time to go. James extinguished the table light and left the house carrying a sack of food, two canteens of water, and the manacles he’d purchased at the dry goods store. In his pockets he had a knife, a compass, his watch, and extra ammunition for the revolver he had stuck in his waistband. He climbed into the wagon and stored his provisions down by his feet. Then he drove out to the street and headed north.
    The town appeared to be fast asleep. There was no sound and not a single light was visible from any window. When he reached the edge of town, he glanced over at the last house on the right. He could not help but think about Polly and her mother asleep inside. What a lovely girl she was. James promised himself that he would try to see her when he got back to Dry Branch.
    As with the town, the countryside was dark and quiet except for some thousands of lightning bugs and the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the road. Approaching the Turner farm, he slowed the horse to a walk so that he could get a good look as he passed. The house was peaceful and so were the two small cabins that sat out away from the left side of it. To the left of the cabins was a field of tall grass. He drove past the farm then stopped the wagon on the road about fifty yards away.
    After hobbling the horse so she would stay put, he picked up some small stones from the road and put them in his pocket. Bending slightly at the waist, he started off through the tall grass towards the nearest cabin. When he reached the edge of the field, he was only about ten feet from the crude little dwelling. He had hoped that there would be a window on that side, and as luck would have it, there was. He reached into his pocket, extracted the stones he’d picked up, and tossed them at the window one by one.  
    In a few minutes James saw a light flickering from inside, then the front door opened and a black man came out carrying a lantern. He walked around the corner to the window, and after finding nothing, turned toward the field. He held the lantern out in front of him, then in a worried whisper he said, “Who’s dare?”
    James stood up with his hands in the air, trying to show that he meant no harm. He could hear the fear in the man’s voice when he asked, “Who is you? What is you wantin here?”
    James didn’t know any other way to answer except to whisper, “Who I am is not important. Do you wish to be free?”
    â€œFree?” the man whispered back.
    â€œYes,” said James.
    For a moment the man stood as if frozen. No doubt, he was completely stunned. James could certainly understand that, but there just wasn’t time to stand around. “I know you must find this hard to believe,” James told him. “But I will help you escape to freedom if you want to go. I will take the other black man who lives here, too.” As unbelievable as it must have seemed, the man seemed to begin to accept the idea. He blew out the lantern; a light was unsafe. Then he said, “Me and Buck will go wit you but I gots me a wife. Buck gots one, too.”
    â€œThen they must go with us. Wake Buck and tell him to bring his wife and as many belongings as they can get together in about two minutes. Then wake your wife and you do the same. Go out through the field. I have a wagon just up the road. I’ll be waiting there. Be