The Long Journey Home

The Mighty Mississip

The wooden craft they called a boat had seen better days. The longer Dewy spent aboard the small conveyance, the more he realized it was a glorified raft and not a ferry. Moses used a giant paddle all in place of a steam engine to help it get across the narrower portion of river. The second “story” of the boat was really a hole in the floor with dilapidated housing surrounding it. No doubt, this was for protection from the weather. Moses also had a small shelter at the bow so he could navigate regardless of condition outdoors. It appeared that this was their home and not just their means of income. The kindly older woman invited Dewy to join her there when the rain started.

“How long have you had your boat?” He asked, hoping it wasn’t too personal.

“Oh, twunny years or so.” She grinned broadly. “We wuz slaves, but when our massuh died, he din’t have nobody who wanted his property. So, we wuz set free by his wife who was never much a friend of slavery. It was touch and go at times, but we managed to stay outta sight. We almost got taken and sold agiyun, but nobuddy wanted no old folks. The Lord seen us through. We ain’t seen our chil’ren or granchil’ren for a long time. Now we don’t hafta worry so much. We so glad Mistuh Lincoln set us free.”

Dewy hoped his shock didn’t register on his face. They’d struggled through some rough years, trying to keep their freedom and survive. Sudden pride swelled inside Dewy’s heart like a huge wave overtaking the shore: He’d fought for this. He’d fought for Moses and his wife. Dewy turned towards the door, looking at the water, so she wouldn’t see the tears flowing down his face unimpeded.

“You alright, Sir?” She asked with concern thick as syrup in her voice.

In a whispered reply, Dewy affirmed.

“What’s gotcha so quiet suddenly?” The as yet unnamed elderly woman queried, bringing Dewy out of his reverie.

“It’s nothing, Ma’am; just memories and a grateful heart.” Dewy had yet to come out of his quiet and pensive mood.

“Was you a soldier?” She asked out of nowhere. “You act like you was, and hold yo’self up higher than men who wasn’t.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m finally returning home. It’s been a longer journey than I anticipated, but I’m about halfway there.”

The woman smiled, revealing a black hole instead of teeth, forcing a grin from Dewy before her face turned serious and her brow very wrinkled.  “Was you a rebel soldier?”

That question straightened him up and caused him to stand almost at attention. He wasn’t sure how she’d feel about his loyalties. He answered hesitantly. “No, Ma’am. Not many Southern boys fought for the Union, but I was one of them.” Ruth then did the most unexpected thing: She hugged Dewy.

“I be so glad to hear that, and happy to hepp you get a little further along. Name’s Ruth (which came out Rufth due her lack of teeth).”

“I’m glad to meet you, Ruth.” The older woman giggled when he took her hand and kissed it like she were a society lady. “I’m Andrew.”  She smiled again, but said nothing more, and went about her duties.

Turning back to his own inner thoughts, he eyed the clouds from the door, noticing their darkening in conjunction with the swift movement of the water. It appeared to be churning almost as they slowly passed over it.

Two very hard stomps on the upper deck ricocheted off the walls in the lower deck. Dewy moved up the last two steps quickly so Miss Ruth could see what Moses wanted. Dewy watched, riveted by their silent conversation. He realized he was eavesdropping on them in a way. He turned to the side where Bess was standing, growing agitated by the impending storm. Dewy wondered if that was the subject of their conversation. He guessed they were close to halfway across.