The Journey of Little Charlie

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried a whole bunch ’bout going o’er into Canada. One the things you got to love ’bout A-mur-ica is that we’s got laws that protects all sorts of folks from getting hurt by other folks. Canada, from what I heard so far, ain’t nowhere near that civilized.

  From all the things I’d been hearing ’bout it, Canada’s gonna have me scratching my head more and harder than them chiggers did two year past.

  I hadn’t never really took no notice of the cap’n’s mouth afore, but now that I was seeing it clear, I could unna-stand why he didn’t want the barber to cut his moustache down.

  The cap’n had growed it long ’nough that it drooped down to cover what he had left of his teeth. They wasn’t nothing but rotten green-and-black stumps poking out of his pink-and-brown-and-gray gums.

  Whilst he was talking, strings of dark brownish slobber gathered up in the corners of his mouth and was getting stretched from his lower lip to his upper one with every word.

  The more he talked, the thicker they got until the corners of his mouth looked as though they was being helt together by thick, sticky, brown spiderwebs.

  I started thinking the barber should’ve listened to the cap’n; it was a real mistake to’ve cut that Spanish moss moustache off. I never knowed what a big favor it’d been doing everyone.

  I hadn’t got much sleep, but it wasn’t jus’ worrying ’bout Ma and Stanky and Pap that had me tossing and kicking; it was thinking ’bout what was gonna happen today.

  Once the sun come up, I was gonna do a whole lot of things for the first time ever, things I ain’t never dreamed of doing whilst plowing land or chasing rabbits and ’coons barefoot through the hollers outside Possum Moan.

  This would be the first time I would ever ride on a boat, the first time I would ever leave A-mur-ica, the first time I would ever go to a foreign country, and best of all, the first time ever I would get to travel on a steam locomotive, something I thought only rich folk done.

  I’d seent trains afore in South Carol-liney, and the way they blasted by made you wonder if they was real or just a dream; I mean the train wasn’t here for one second, then it was, then it wasn’t again.

  The cap’n and me walked the five blocks from the livery stable to the ferry that would take us into Canada. Since we wasn’t looking to be gone no more than two days, we was traveling light. I was give the chore of toting the cap’n’s bag that was holting his and Pap’s pistols, extra shells, the cap’n’s wallet, and a light set of handcuffs, jus’ in case.

  We both had put on our new Sunday best jackets, trousers, shirts, and neckties, and we looked right respectful as we stepped up on the ferry.

  Folks even nodded the brims of their hats at the cap’n, which surprised him much as it surprised me!

  Once we got to the boat, the cap’n handed the man two dimes!

  It was powerful expensive to ride on the ferry, but if didn’t nothing else happen on this whole trip, I had one thing I’d be remembering and smiling o’er for the rest of my life. And I only had took me half a step outta Dee-troit.

  Soon as my foot hit the floor of the ferry, a man in a fancy u-nee-form, wearing white gloves, stuck his hand out to me and said, “Watch your step, sir!”

  Sir!

  That was the first time in my life anyone had called me sir and I ain’t but twelve year old! I wasn’t sure if he said it ’cause he thought I was older than I am or if he said it to everybody. But some chirren got on after us and he didn’t say nothing to ’em!

  That ended up being the best thing ’bout the whole ferry ride.

  The worst thing was the ride was so doggone short.

  A bell runged and a whistle tooted and if you’d-a sneezed, you’d-a missed the whole thing. I ain’t ’zactly sure what I was ’specting, but I was sure ’specting more’n jus’ the whistle to toot again and the bell to get runged one more time and afore you knowed it, we’d gone and bumped into the shore of Canada.

  We got off and I figgered out why the man called me sir; it was ’cause they’d feel guilty if they didn’t give you something for the dime they was charging to take us ’crost.

  Far’s I could see, there wasn’t much difference ’tween folk in Dee-troit and folk in the city called Windsor. My eye still wasn’t use to seeing colored people dressed up in full sets of clothes ’stead of wearing the rags most slaves in South Carol-liney chooses to wear, but I was getting to the point where I didn’t stare at ’em quite so hard; mostly I was stealing backward and sideways glances.

  The Canadians had things set up real easy for you if you was traveling; the train station wasn’t but a hop, skip, and a jump ’way from where the ferry let you off.

  After jus’ two seconds of looking at the locomotive, I knowed there wasn’t gonna be nothing disappointing ’bout my first train ride!

  The inside of the train was swanky as what my imaginings had tolt me the inside of the Tanners’ plantation house was like. Or maybe even George Washington’s! There was fancy, soft-looking seats on both sides of a little lane that run from the front of the car to the back.

  A man in high-tone clothes and a round red cap shouted, “All aboard,” then pult up the steps right into the train.

  I sat in one of the benchy chairs and was relieved when ’stead of sitting next to me, the cap’n got in the chair right behind mine. He was smelling lots better since he’d washed hisself off, but his odor wasn’t the only thing that made him foul to sit ’round.

  Besides, I’d got so use to not breathing out my nose when he was ’round that jus’ looking at him got me mouth breathing and that ain’t com-fitting after while.

  There was seven or eight other folk already in their chairs.

  I grabbed on to the chair in front of me hard when the whole train jerked, throwing me back.

  I ain’t saying I squealed or nothing, but I must’ve sucked in a lot of air, ’cause a girl setting ’crost from me looked o’er and laughed.

  It wasn’t nothing but the train starting to move.

  Looking out the window you’d-a thought the station was moving ’way from us ’stead of the other way ’round. Then afore you know it, we wasn’t seeing nothing but trees out the window.

  But the strangest thing ’bout it was trying to figger out what it was I was hearing. Even though I ain’t never rode a train, what I was hearing was real familiar and sort of com-fitting to me.

  Then I got it! The train was chugging out my name o’er and o’er again!

  ’Twas slow at first, but wasn’t no doubt it was saying, “Charl. E. Bo. Bo. Charl. E. Bo. Bo. Charl. E. Bo. Bo.”

  I looked back at the cap’n to see if he was hearing it too, but he was staring ahead.

  The faster the train got a-going, the faster it started calling out to me, “Charl-e-bobo, charl-e-bobo, charl-e-bobo, charl-e-bobo, charl-e-bobo …”

  Once we got to flying right along and I didn’t think the train couldn’t go no faster, the sound blurred together same as the trees that was whistling by outside: “CHARL- EBOBO!CHARLEBOBO!CHARLEBOBO!CHARL- EBOBO!”

  I thought I was gonna bust, it was so much fun!

  I don’t know what I done, but all the sudden the cap’n grabbed my collar from behind and says, “Look, you giant hick, it ain’t becoming for no one as big and growed-looking as you is to be jumping up and down in his seat and making ’em gigglish goo-goo sounds every time a house go by or some deers look up at you. Try acting your age and pretending you been outta Possum Moan once or twice.”

  I didn’t even blush; a train was ’nough to make anyone get excited.

  * * *

  After while, there was something ’bout being on the train that made me want to close my eyes and fall off to sleep. It brung back memories of them times when I was a baby and sleeping would sometimes jus’ come up real sneaky and quick and ease all the wakefulness clean outta me.

  I ain’t for sure if ’twas the way the train rocked steady and gentle from side to side, or if it was the
nice, soothish way my name was getting called out again and again, or if it was ’cause of the way the trees and grass and hills was flying by out the window.

  If I’d-a thought ’bout it aforehand, I’d-a probably figgered all of that moving going on outside would keep me wide awake, but it was jus’ the opposite. Riding on ’em rails so fast meant I couldn’t lock my eyes on nothing long ’nough to get a good train of thought going and afore long, falling asleep seemed a better idea than straining my eyes.

  The same thing started happening again and again; I’d fight it hard, but I’d find my head nodding up and down on my neck, then I’d give a nervous jerk and wake up, or I’d start dozing till my face smacked up ’gainst the side of the window glass. Each time that happened, there was a greasy face print and a smudge of slobber left on the glass.

  I used my fancy shirt sleeve to wipe ’em clean.

  I couldn’t help thinking this was turrible unfair. Chances was good that this was gonna be the only shot I was gonna get at riding on a train, so falling asleep was jus’ ’bout a tragedy.

  Everything ’bout being on the train was so beautiful and exciting that I couldn’t stand to miss not even one second.

  I seent the cap’n had his window open and the air was blowing ’crost him. I axed him to show me how he done it, thinking that the air might help keep me awake, but that was another mistake.

  The breeze that come in was warm and cool at the same time and jus’ pushed me farther and farther into darkness.

  I hate blaming it on something as wonderful as the train, but when I finally falled off to a deep sleep, I falled into the worse nightmare I’d ever had.

  For some reason I was out back of our cabin, looking into the forest and still trying to whistle up them three pups that couldn’t help theyselfs and had flinched.

  There was a heavy fog that was starting to lift and I was sweeping my eyes ’crost the forest floor, hoping one the pups would show hisself, but all I seent was the trunks of trees coming outta the ground.

  A couple of the trunks rooted side by side and standing close together drawed my ’tention ’cause ’stead of being bark, they ’peared to be made outta leather.

  My eyes followed the leather tree trunks up and the leather turnt to blue jeans, then the blue jeans turnt into a calico shirt stretched ’crost the wide back of a giant man.

  ’Twas though I had been cracked by lightning when I rec-a-nized who it was!

  “Pap!”

  He kept his back to me and said, “Little Charlie, boy, is that you?”

  Hearing Pap’s voice again near ripped me in half. Happiness and terror was both fighting to smother me. I was torn ’twixt laughing and crying.

  He turnt ’round slow and looked at me, but his eyes wasn’t his own, they was them same dead eyes I’d seent right after he falled o’er.

  This was the first time I ’membered that right after the ax clipped Pap, I’d took a fast-fast look at his face and the wound. I’d cut my eyes ’way quick as I could.

  But dreaming eyes don’t listen to no one, they look where they want for as long’s they want; they don’t give no considering to what your feelings on the subject is, they don’t care a whit what seeing something harsh as this might do to you for the rest of your life.

  And my dreaming eyes wanted to study Pap’s wound long and hard.

  The gash really didn’t look no different than a big smile. ’Cepting that the white pieces that was where teeth was s’pose to be was broke-up bits of the bones of Pap’s forehead that had shattered once that ax-head hit him.

  And ’stead of being a set of thin lips, the grinning mouth was really the raggedy edges of the new hole that had got cut in Pap’s head. The red thing bulging out of the inside of his mouth that I thought was his tongue wasn’t nothing but brain meat oozing from inside Pap’s skull.

  Then Pap talked.

  He said, “Little Charlie, my boy. You’s a hunter, boy. Be like them dogs and don’t get scairt.”

  But ’stead of Pap’s mouth moving whilst he was talking, the words was falling out of the gash in his forehead. The corners of his new mouth had red slobber stuck to ’em, and the same way the cap’n’s brown spit had done, it got stretched up and down with every word Pap said.

  My dreaming eyes had had ’nough and looked away. But they wasn’t ’bout to give me no shelter from this nightmare.

  I turnt my head and seent Ma standing off to Pap’s side. Her arms was crossed o’er her chest with her hands holting on to her neck.

  She was trying to say something but was having a hard time of it. Her lips was moving but all that was coming out was a gurgling sound.

  Ma was getting flus-terated and moved her hands away to reach toward Pap. When she did, I seent there was a long, nasty slash running clean ’crost her throat.

  The next thing I knowed, I was getting shook hard and slapped ’crost the back of my head.

  I opened my eyes and woke up to the perfect ending of the worst nightmare any person could ever have; ’twas the cap’n standing o’er me with fire in his eyes.

  We both screamed for a while afore I shet up and unna-stood what he was saying.

  “… has you lost your mind? Bawling and screaming? You best hesh up. We trying not to draw no ’tention to ourselfs and you’s acting like a madman. Now sit up and act growed.”

  Me and the cap’n went o’er the plan again and again. Mostly he kept finding different ways of letting me know if everything didn’t work the way it was s’pose to, it wouldn’t be no one’s fault but my own.

  “Iffen he don’t trust you ’nough, then we’s through …”

  “Iffen he ain’t drawed to you right off, then we done wasted …”

  “Iffen you don’t do everything I say, we might as well burn a thousand …”

  “Iffen you don’t get him, I’m leaving you here in the land of river rats …”

  The cap’n acted real mistrusting when he give me the slave woman’s necklace he stole off her. He said, “If push come to shove, show him this. It’ll let him know we’s really here to help.”

  He capped the whole talk off by saying, “If we was back home, I’d have you cat-hauled if you mess this up.”

  ’Twas cat-hauling that had made Pap so upset and caused him to lose his appetite for two days and his sleep for weeks. I took a chance the cap’n might answer me.

  “I don’t know what cat-hauling is, sir.”

  “You’ll find out soon ’nough.”

  One thing I seent ’bout the cap’n, he might be crazy, but he wasn’t nowhere near stupid. He’d always listen to what folk had to say, and if they made sense, he’d weigh their words; he wouldn’t jus’ toss someone’s thoughts out ’cause they wasn’t agreeing with his.

  Maybe the cap’n would tell me ’bout cat-hauling ’cause what good is it to threaten someone with a punishment if they ain’t got no idea what the punishment is? What if cat-hauling was something I fount myself enjoying?

  “But, Cap’n Buck, sir, ain’t you trying to teach me things?”

  He didn’t answer but looked at me. Listening, thinking.

  “I ’preciates you doing it, sir, but how’s I s’pose to learn iffen I don’t know what you talking ’bout?”

  He grunted, then nodded his head once.

  “You’ll see what cat-hauling is once we gets back home. It’s what’s gonna happen to the three of them darkies. The boy’ll be first, the buck next, and that bigmouth wench last.

  “You got to remember darkies is simple, and the best disciplining is always simple. And cat-hauling’s ’bout as simple’s you can get. You only needs three or four things.

  “First, get you a pair a blacksmith gloves; they’s the heaviest gloves there is. Then you get someone to go catch holt of the biggest, orneriest, meanest tomcat in the barn. You put the cat in a crate with a lid and have a bucket of cold water at the ready.

  “That, a stick, and a hard-head darky’s pretty much all you need for a proper cat-hauling. Simpl
e, but it’ll make a impression on whoever you’s doing it to that’s gonna last the rest of their life.

  “Many a spirit’s been busted after one good cat-hauling, many a darky’s eyes has been opened, many a attitude’s been changed.”

  The cap’n wasn’t one to do much talking; most times he kept a tight tongue in his head, but once he got the talk ball rolling, he pretty quick started falling in love with the sound of his own words.

  “Next you take your darky, strip him nekkid, and stake him on his belly spread-eagled. Then you open the lid of the crate jus’ ’nough that you can pour the bucket of water on the cat. Give the crate a good shaking, smack it with the stick once or twice, put them gloves on, open the lid far ’nough that you can reach in and grab the cat by his head. Once you got it gripped good, and believe me, you gonna be surprised how strong one them cats is, grab his tail right at his arse and stretch him out.

  “Then you take the kitty to your darky and introduce one to the ’nother. Once they made each other’s ’quaintance, you start at the darky’s shoulders, haul the tom down the boy’s back, then up, then down, jus’ like you’s using a plane to smooth a big pine board; you ain’t gonna be able to tell who’s screaming the loudest, the cat or …”

  My ears jus’ up and quit.

  I could see the cap’n’s lips moving and smiling, I could see the thick drying slobber in the corners of his mouth getting pult north and south, but the only thing I was hearing was the sound of water rushing ’round me.

  Even though something inside wasn’t letting me hear his words, what he was saying danced ’round in his eyes. They’d started glowing, coming alive, jus’ ’bout throwing sparks.

  My stomach must be stronger than Pap’s, or maybe it was the difference ’twixt being tolt ’bout something and actually seeing it, ’cause whilst what the cap’n was talking ’bout was sickening, I still could’ve et something.

  One thing was for sure, though, I wasn’t gonna do nothing else to encourage the cap’n to start talking again.