'Well, what now?' says I. 'That's only a two-day journey, and we'll be beyond their reach, won't we?'
She took her head. 'You do not understand. The Ohio river is the boundary between the slave states and the free, but even in the free states we are not safe until we have gone well upriver. See —' She traced again. 'From Louisville to Cincinnati and far beyond that, we still have slave states on our right hand, first Kentucky and then Virginia. If we were to land on the Indiana or Ohio shores, we should be in free states, but I could still be retaken by the slave-catchers who are thick along the river.'
'But — but — I thought the free state folk sheltered slaves, and helped them. Surely they can't take you off free state soil?'
'Of course they can!' There were tears in her eyes now. 'Oh, if we could be sure of finding an abolitionist settlement, or an underground railroad station, all would be well, but how do we know? There are laws forbidding people in Ohio to aid runaways slaves are caught and dragged back across the river daily by these bands of catchers, with their guns and dogs! And with the time we have lost here, notices of my running from Memphis will have reached the Kentucky shore — my name will have been added to the list of the other poor hunted creatures trying to escape north!'
'Well, what the blazes can we do?'
She traced on the map again. 'We must stay aboard our steamboat all the way to Pittsburgh, if indeed the boats run so far in this weather.38 If not, they will at least take us far enough up the Ohio to catch a train from one of the eastern Ohio towns into Pennsylvania. Once we are in Pittsburgh we can laugh at all the slave-catchers in the South — and you will be far beyond the reach of the Mississippi law.'
Well, that was a comforting thought. 'How long does it take?' says I.
'To Pittsburgh by boat? Five days.' She bit her lip and began to tremble again. 'Within a week from now I shall be either free or dead.'
I wish she'd thought of some other way of putting it, and it crossed my mind that I might be a good deal safer parting company with her. On the other hand, a boat to Pittsburgh was the fastest way home, and if we kept to our cabin the whole way we should come through safe. They don't look for runaway slaves in staterooms. They might look there for a murderer, though — and blast it, I hadn't even done the murders! Could I fob them off on her if the worst came to the worst? But it wouldn't — there must be a limit to the distance they could chase us.
It was in a fine state of the shakes that we boarded the Bostona the next morning, and I didn't know an easy moment until we had passed the Cairo fork that night and were steaming up the Ohio. I drank a fair amount, and Cassy sat gazing out towards the northern shore, but early on the second morning we reached Louisville without incident, and I began to breath again. Evening saw us at Cincinnati and Cassy was in a fever of anxiety for the boat to move off again; Cincinnati, although on the Ohio side, was a great place for slave-catchers, and she cried with relief when the side-wheel started at last and we churned on upriver.
But at breakfast time next day there was a rude awakening. The weather had grown colder and colder throughout our journey, and now when you looked overside there were great cakes of dirty brown and green ice riding down the current, and a powdering of snow lying on the Ohio bank. The fellows in the saloon were of opinion that the boat would go no farther than Portsmouth, if that far; the captain wouldn't risk her in this kind of weather.
And sure enough, down comes the captain presently, all gravity and grey whiskers, to announce to the saloon that he couldn't make Portsmouth this trip, on account of the ice, but would put in at Fisher's Landing, which was three miles short of the town, and set anyone ashore that wanted to go. The rest he would carry back to Cincinnati.
They raised a tremendous howl at this, waving their tickets and demanding their money back, and one tubby little chap in gold glasses cries out angrily:
'Intolerable! Fisher's Landing is on the Kentucky shore — how am Ito be in Portsmouth tonight? There won't be a ferry running in this weather.'
The captain said he was sorry; the Ohio side was out of the question, because the ice was thick all down the north channel.
'But I must be in Portsmouth tonight!' fumes the tubby man. 'Perhaps you don't know me, captain — Congressman Smith, Albert J. Smith, at your service. It is imperative that I be in Portsmouth to support my congressional colleague, Mr Lincoln, at tonight's meeting.'
'Well, I'm sorry, Congressman Smith,' says the captain, 'but if you were going to support the President, I couldn't land you in Ohio today.'
'Infamous!' cries the little chap. 'Why, I've come from Evansville for this, and Mr Lincoln has broken his journey home specially for this meeting, and is awaiting me in Portsmouth. Really, captain, when matters of such national importance as the slave question are to be discussed by eminent —'
'The slave question!' cries the captain. 'Well, sir, you may land in Kentucky for me, let me tell you, and I hope they welcome you warmly!'
And off he stumped, red in the face, leaving the little chap wattling and cursing. I didn't have to be told the captain was a Southerner, but I was vastly intrigued to find my path crossing so close to Mr Lincoln's again. That seemed to me a good reason for turning back to Cindnnati, and giving Portsmouth a wide berth. He and his sharp eyes and embarrassing questions were the last things I wanted to meet just now.
But Cassy wouldn't have it; even landing in Kentucky was preferable to Cincinnati, and she pointed out that the farther I was upriver the safer I'ld be. She was sure there must be a ferry running at Portsmouth; it was only a short walk along the shore, she said, and once across we could journey inland to Columbus and from there quickly to Pittsburgh.
If she didn't mind, I didn't, because I felt we must be beyond pursuit by now, but I noticed she hesitated at the gangplank, scanning the shore at Fisher's Landing, and her steps were slow as we walked over the creaking wooden stage. Suddenly she stopped, caught my arm, and whispered:
'Let us go back! I never thought to stand on this soil again — I feel evil hanging over us. Oh, we shouldn't have landed! Please, let us go back quickly, before it's too late!'
But it was too late even then, for the steamboat, having landed about a dozen of us, including the incensed Congressman, was already backing away from the stage, her whistle whooping like a lost soul. Cassy shuddered beside me, and pulled her veil more tightly round her face. Truth to tell, I didn't care for the look of the place much myself; just the stage, and a mean little tavern, and bleak scrubby country stretching away on both sides.
However, there was nothing for it now. The other passengers crowded round the tavern, asking about a ferry, and the yokel there opined that there might be one later that day, but with the ice he couldn't be sure. The others decided to wait and see, but Cassy insisted that we should push on along the bank; we could see Portsmouth in the distance on the far shore, and it did seem there would be a better chance of a ferry there.
So we set off together, carrying our bags, along the lonely little road that wound among the trees by the river. It was a cold, grey afternoon, with a keen wind sighing among the branches, and through the trunks the brown Ohio ran by, with the massive floes grinding and booming in the brown water. There was low cloud and a threat of snow, and a dank chill in the air that was not just the weather. Cassy was silent as we walked, but her words still sounded in my ears, and although I told myself we were safe enough by this time, surely, I found myself ever glancing back along the deserted muddy track, lying drear and silent under the winter sky.
We must have walked about an hour, and although it was still early afternoon it seemed to me to be growing darker, when we saw buildings ahead, and came to a tiny village on the river bank. We were nearly opposite Portsmouth by now, and already some lights were twinkling across the water. The river here seemed to be more choked with ice than ever, stirring and heaving but moving only gently downstream.
The keeper of the tavern that served the place laughed to scorn our inquiries about a ferry; however, in his opinion the ice would freeze again overnight, and then we could walk across. He couldn't give us beds, but we were welcome to couch down for the night, and in the meantime he could give us fried ham and coffee.
'We should have stayed at Fisher's Landing,' says I, but Cassy just sank down wearily on a bench without replying. I offered her some coffee but she shook her head, and when I reminded her it was only for one night, she whispered:
'It is very near us now — I can feel the dark shadow coming closer. Oh, God! Oh, God! Why did I set foot on this accursed shore again!'
'What bloody shadow?' snaps I, for she had my nerves like fiddle strings. 'We're snug enough here, girl, within spitting distance of Ohio! We've come this far, in God's name; who's going to stop us now?'
