My wife Bonnie woke me up early that morning claiming she smelled smoke. I noticed it almost immediately and leapt out of bed, quickly dressed into my work clothes and evacuated the rest of the family. But our house wasn’t on fire. I didn’t know what to think about the smoke, until I realized that it wasn’t coming from us, but the Whitcroft’s property, below us. I saw their entire field on fire, only one figure running, the other standing by the house, screaming at it:
“There’s a river over the other hill! Go Lucas, just GO! Run for it, Faroi!! GET OUT OF HERE!!”
I realized that it was their boy that was freeing that slave! I was going to report it, but Bonnie insisted that I don’t do that. It wouldn’t be necessary, she said; he probably deserved it. I also thought not to tell Tim either. Only a man could’ve done something that brave; let him see that for himself.
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The Ivory Tower
Historical FictionNew Amsterdam was nothing like they remembered. This is the story of how a runaway slave changed the world.
