Burning Uncle Tom's Cabin by Carl Waters

Author:Carl Waters
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: Bright Sons Media
Published: 2014-06-13T22:00:00+00:00

23

George ducked farther back into the rotted-out tree trunk, carefully arranging some of the foliage in front of him. The woods behind Maysville were darker than any he’d been in before, but that would serve him well. Now, approaching midnight, there was no one around but for an owl somewhere in the distance and whatever other animals might make their homes here, and he thought he’d be safe for the night. The hollowed-out tree trunk had holes in the middle and at both ends, giving him both a valuable vantage point and three possible points of escape. Although he’d never expected to find a trunk that would hold his large frame, he’d been lucky, and this would make the perfect spot to sit tight until morning.

In short, he could see the world around him, while he lay hidden from anyone else’s eyes.

He finished arranging the leaves to his liking and closed his eyes—though not his ears—to get some rest. His plan was to rest here for the night, recover his strength, and set out in the morning. If he got to the docks early enough, he reasoned, he could stow away on a boat and cross the river without notice. Though he knew there were some men in the North who would turn him in to the authorities if they had the chance, it was a free place, and he hoped to travel more easily there.

By the afternoon, he hoped, he’d be well into the Northern territory of Ohio and on his way to freedom.

As his mind began to rest, though, his body began to awaken. Once again he could feel the full force of the whip lashes on his back and the burning of the brand on his palm. Though so much had happened since the whipping, the intensity of the pain reminded him that he had been punished just the night before—had it only been twenty-four hours?—for something that should never have brought repercussions: the ability to use his own will and judgment.

These thoughts and his pains angered him, and his mind raced back to the whipping tree and what had been done to him there. Another man, laying the lash against his back, then pressing an iron into his palm, labeling him property. His right hand curled into a claw around that brand, his heart burning with fury. Until the day he died, that brand would be a reminder of how he’d started his life. He’d cut it out, if he could, or find some way of disguising it.

For it stood for everything that was wrong with the world.

What would Eliza say when she saw it? he wondered suddenly. Would she understand? Would she be as upset and disgusted by it as he was? Would she turn away, afraid to look at the mark that branded him an escaped slave?

No, he thought, pulling his mind away from that idea. Eliza would care for him and try to calm him, as she always did. She would rub ointment into his back, and his hand, and help him heal.

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