Chapters 10-12

Chapter 10

                I felt numb, and I couldn’t believe that that had just happened. I knew that my mother had been brutally raped, and so had many other female slaves, but I never expected it to happen to me –especially on that night. I couldn’t think clearly, my mind just kept running back to what happened. There was no way that I could go back to Master John, after running away again, I had no where I could go. The only place that I knew that I would have the slightest amount of safety would be back in the outhouse, even though it is near Master William Scott.

                I don’t know how many days it had been until Katherine found me. She was shocked once she heard what her father had done to me, and vowed to help me out in any way that she could. Katherine gathered a couple of trustworthy slaves, and I say trustworthy because some slaves would rat you out just to get a little more  food, or an extra blanket, and helped me stay alive. They would bring me some food and water, anything that was left over that they could snatch, and some blankets to keep me warm. Without their help I would not be here, detailing the accounts of my life.

                The life in the outhouse was not a pleasant one. While, I was safe from the wrath of the slave masters and the bloodhounds, there was barely enough room to stretch my legs. However, I don’t know what was worse, the lack of space or the solitude. I only got to speak to someone maybe once a week – when they would quickly drop off the food and water and then scamper off, leaving me with maybe 30 seconds of conversation. I don’t know if I have ever felt as alone as I did right then.

The days passed by so slowly, with each second feeling like a minute, and each minute feeling like an hour. I would awake to the sun rising, where the light would shine in through a hole that was maybe the size of a quarter. Then I would eat a small portion of my food for breakfast – I had to make sure to not eat too much or else I would go starving by the time my next portions were given to me. After that I would wait through the day, looking out at all of the slaves – some of whom I had formerly known – and just watch them work. That was one of the only things that I could do to keep me busy.

About two months of this had passed when I noticed that my stomach was growing bigger. “Could it be?” I mumbled to myself, not truly believing that I had been impregnated by Master William Scott.

I was carrying his child, a child tainted with the blood a brutal, ruthless man, who did not see any wrong in what he had done. I remembered that on the night that he raped me, he said, “God has sent me to punish you.” He was using his religion to prove that what he was doing was right – that God wanted it to be that way. Remembering that moment, coupled with the new news of me being pregnant, I began to cry. I cried for hours, curled up in a ball, until Katherine came to see me.

I couldn’t even speak the words out loud; all I could do was point to my stomach. “Food? Do you need more food?” she asked me, not quite understanding what I was doing. I just shook my head and pointed at my stomach once more. And then she realized it. “You’re pregnant?” She asked, seeming quite shocked. I regained my voice, and shakily said yes.

After this revelation, the already slow days seemed to pass at an even slower rate. My thoughts were no longer thinking about how I could escape, but they turned to what was I going to do with my child? My child would be born in to slavery; no mother would ever wish that upon anyone, especially their own child!

My thoughts then centered about what would happen if my baby were a boy. Oh the physical punishments he would receive. The slave masters seemed to be harsher with the males with their physical beatings, leaving many with open wounds that wouldn’t heal for weeks. They physical scars that the men had, it gave me chills just thinking about it. 

And heavens, if my baby were to be a girl…she would have to go through what I had gone through, or worse. She most likely wouldn’t get the physical punishments from her master, but the verbal abuse and harassment that she would get would be just as worse, if not more. She would be subjected to sexual harassments – and possibly be raped, just as my mother and I were. I couldn’t bear to think about it! All this hardship and she hasn’t even been born yet!

Katherine visited me more often once she learned about my pregnancy; she wanted to check up on me to make sure that my not-yet-born baby and I were doing okay. I revealed to her some of my worries about the baby’s life, and she tried to calm me down. After she heard of my worries, she would bring me some anti-slavery publishing’s by Elijah Lovejoy, which helped me be able to read better. Not only this, but I was beginning to feel something that I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope that maybe the Northerners would begin to truly see how bad and cruel slavery was down here in the South, and perhaps they would try to put an end to it. Through his publishing’s I became more aware of what was going on in this world that I lived in, already seeing that some popular political leaders were beginning to be against slavery.

More months passed, and I was able to feel the baby kick sometimes, which made the days a little better, too. Slowly the kicks came less often, however I was sure that that was normal. But then came a night that I won’t ever forget.

It was right after dusk and I was feeling quite tired. But then came a feeling of wetness that I had heard about before: my water had broken. I was so scared, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Thankfully it was a night that Katherine was coming to visit me, and she helped me through it all. She handed me my baby, but, my baby was dead. Born dead.

I don’t know if there are any words to describe how I felt at that moment. My baby, my flesh and blood, was taken from before it had even gotten a chance to live, a chance to feel my loving embrace. I would not wish this to happen to even the worse people in the world, to even the slave holder’s mistresses. The only good thing from this was that my child would never have to live the harsh life of being someone’s property.

Chapter 11

                After some time had passed, I began to regain my strength, both emotionally and physically. I had made up my mind that I would escape from this place, and go to the North. There had been some talk about an “Underground Railroad” which helped slaves escape to the North and become free.  I asked one of the slaves that would bring me some food about it one day, and she told me all about it – how it helped slaves go from one safe house to another, until they reached their destination.

                Later on Katherine came to visit me, and I asked her if she knew anything about it, since she really did try to help all of us slaves out. She told me that she knew of one of the “conductors” of the Underground Railroad that was pretending to be a slave for her father, and coincidentally enough, he was planning on leaving in a couple days, taking a couple slaves with him. She promised that she would ask him if I could join him. I began feeling more hope, and I was almost feeling a little giddy just thinking about being free, and not having to hide in a cramped place anymore.

                The nights later, a couple hours after dusk had passed, a young black man came to the outhouse and knocked on the door. “Clara? Are you there?” he asked in a hushed tone.

                “Yes! I’m here.” I replied, getting a little nervous now that it was actually happening. I still remembered the stories of the bloodhounds, of what happened to Abraham, and hoped that this would not be another failed escape of mine. I slowly exited the outhouse and met up with the young man, whose name turned out to be Joseph. He had a couple other slaves with him, a couple of whom I recognized from when I had watched them working on the plantation.

                “Okay, so we are going to head to a safe house. We’re just going to travel at night for now, for there will be less risk of someone spotting us. But we have to move quickly!” And with that we were off. We headed towards the woods, and headed north. For part of our route we followed a stream, and then we branched off into another direction. Joseph told us this was in order to make sure that if anyone was following us they would thin k that we followed the stream completely, and thus if would throw off our pursuers. The men that were in the small group seemed to be doing better than the women that were traveling – they were better physically prepared for the journey, and ended up helping out the women slaves that came with.

                Finally, we made it to our first safe house. It was a little cottage on the outskirts of another house, and when we got inside we met the station master, who didn’t give us his name. He had set up a couple beds for us to rest in, and had food and water for us to eat and drink throughout the day. Joseph told us to rest up, so that we would be prepared for our next night of travel.

                We all rested up that day, many of us slept and devoured the food that was left out. And soon night fell again and we left once more. Joseph talked to us on this nights travels, which were again in the woods. He pointed out the North Star, and told us how he used to help keep us on the right route. Soon we met up with another man, whose name was *William Still. William took over the leading the rest of the route, and told us that he was going to be our new conductor. He led us to another safe house.

                At this safe house there were beds and food, just like with the other one. After we all slept, William talked to each and every one of us, finding out our history and where we planned on going. Honestly, I hadn’t really thought of where I was going to go, I just wanted to get away from the horrible South. I ended up deciding that I was going to make my way to New York. So when William started talking to me, I told him almost everything. He comforted me and then revealed to me part of his life story.

                He told me about how his father was the first one of them to buy their freedom, and that when his mother tried to escape she got recaptured. She escaped once more, but with her two daughters. However his whole family was not freed. Two of his brothers, he heard, had been sold to plantations in the Deep South. William looked a little shaken up when he told me about that part, since there have been rumors about what happens in the Deep South, about how they are worse than other places in America that have slavery.

                Soon it was time to leave again, and he took us to our next safe house. Throughout my journey people came and left – some people had to stay an extra day or two at one safe house in order to get the conductor that was going to take them to where they were headed. This was because not everyone was headed to New York; some were heading to other places, like Canada or Massachusetts. The journey cycle just kept repeating: travel at night, reach a safe house, rest, repeat. Our conductors were switched out every couple days, in order to keep the route safe. Each conductor apparently only knew their part of the journey, which kept it safe from those that would try to infiltrate the Underground Railroad.

*William Still is a real person, who did help people travel throughout the underground railroad.

Chapter 12

                I continued along the Underground Railroad for quite some time, until I met up with the Parker’ in New York. This was my last stop, while some of the others were going to leave later on to head elsewhere. Mr. Parker, the father, let me stay in the guest bedroom, and soon they became like a second family to me.

                The Parkers were a family of four: Mr. and Mrs. Parker, and Sheila and Josh. Sheila and Josh were their children, which Sheila being the eldest. They were a sweet family, and helped me get on my feet and work as a free woman. Mr. Parker told me that I could stay as long as I wanted, and that if I needed anything, they would help.

                Whenever they would go out, they would take me with them. They told those in the society that I was their children’s nanny, which was partially true, for I did help watch them and take care of them. The people in the North were so much different than those in the South. While it was still very obvious that I wasn’t accepted due to the color of my skin, I didn’t feel the same terror that I had felt in the South. We black folk were slightly more respected, and it was nice.

                However, one day while we were out, everyone kept giving the family, mainly me, dirty looks. I didn’t understand why, until the Parkers showed me the local newspaper. The front page featured an article concerning the “Nat Turner Rebellion”. A man named Nat Turner had gathered some slaves in his area to rebel against the slave masters and other white folk – they killed so many white men, and it has made a lot of people mad.

                “You have to be prepared for events like this to happen, Clara,” said Mr. Parker, “if more events like this happen, you might get more than a couple of dirty looks. People might say things, cruel things. It’ll be tough. But remember, we’ll always be here for you.”

                The last part of what he said meant the world to me. The fact that someone cared for me just filled me with a happiness that I can’t describe. They had alright put their lives at risk by helping me find a living, and just to say that they were there for me, a former slave, I just can’t even put into words the emotions I was feeling.

                I stayed with the Parkers for a while more after this, and they introduced me to some of their other Quaker friends. These people were some of the nicest people that I have met – to them it didn’t matter that I was from African decent, we were all equal. I fully appreciated it, and I felt like I could speak my mind. I told them about parts from my life, and they were shocked. They told me that, if it was okay with me, that they would share some of my story at one of their meetings, in hopes that the other members of the Quaker society would spread it around and convince others to take a stand against slavery.

                One evening, after the children had gone to bed, Mr. and Mrs. Parker and I were talking. They were asking about family, seeing if I had any nice stories to tell. I told them all about my younger brother, Peter, and how nice he sang when we were kids.
                “You know, Clara, I just noticed that you never did tell us what your full name is. All this time, and we know you, but we don’t even know you’re full name! How silly is that?”

                “I... I don’t have a last name,” I said to her, “many slaves don’t have one, unless their parents have one. The slave masters really didn’t care about us enough to give us one.”

                “Oh my, dear, all this time and no last name? You should take ours! You’re already part of the family, anyway.” She said with a sweet smile.

                “Yeah, Clara, take our last name, please. Besides, you’ll be less suspicious of being a runaway slave if you have a last name.”

                “Are you guys sure?” I asked, a little nervous about taking their last name.

                “Of course we’re sure! Besides it’ll kick off your new life as being a completely free woman.  It’s like a fresh start.” Mr. Parker replied.

                And that’s how I became Clara Parker.