Ellie

By Charles F. Fix

Ellen Craft
Georgia Women of Achievement 1996







At twenty-two, Ellen Craft and her husband William shocked the world and humiliated the South in a bold, daring and dangerous escape from slavery! Ellen, a near white Negro, cut her hair and disguised herself as a white gentleman. Taking her husband as her personal slave they struck out for their freedom on December 21st 1848. Their quest would take them four days and a thousand miles. They would travel on the best trains, stay in the best hotel and ride the best steamers that the South had to offer. All this under the very noses of those that would have had them killed should they be discovered! On December the 25th 1848 they gained their freedom and became the stuff of legends.



Screenplay available at [e-mail]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453568590

Charles F. Fix

CHARLES F. FIX Mr. Fix is a Graduate of the University of California in Los Angeles with a degree in Sociology and History. He has produced many documentaries covering both the cultural and historical sites in Oregon, California and Washington. Mr. Fix currently resides in Portland, OR. and is a native of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

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Copyright © 2010 by Charles F. Fix.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2010912853

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4535-6858-3

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

PROLOGUE

ELLIE

DECEMBER 17TH 1848

DECEMBER 21ST 1848

WILLIAM

DECEMBER 22ND

DECEMBER 23RD

DECEMBER 24TH Macon, Georgia

DECEMBER 24TH Wilmington, N.C.

DECEMBER 25TH

TWENTY TWO YEARS LATER . . . SEPTEMBER 22ND 1870 Macon, Ga.

EPILOG

"I had much rather starve in England, a free woman, than to be a slave

for the best man that ever breathed upon the American continent."

Ellen Smith Craft 1826-1891

PROLOGUE

On December 21st 1848, Ellen and William Craft stepped out of her cottage in Macon, Georgia, and four days later became the stuff of legends. Ellen, the daughter of a white plantation owner and Negro mother, was born mostly white. Now, as an adult, she was taken to be a young white lady, while William was of the color of his ancestors.

Just four days before their strike for freedom, William came upon a perfect plan for their escape, one that would allow them to cross over a thousand miles in the Deep South, in daylight, to reach Philadelphia and their freedom. Their plan of escape from slavery was simply one of deception. Ellen would become a man and William, his master’s servant. Ellen had over the last several years worked in the home of Dr. Robert Collins. There, she gained the knowledge and ability to interact with the ‘white folks’, she learned their customs and manner of speech, but most importantly, she learned the routes to the north and freedom.

Their story is one of courage, determination and desperation. From the moment they stepped out of the cottage that morning they were consumed with the fear of being found out. Every sound, every look, every question they encountered carried with it the possibility of torture, beatings, separation and death.

It is important for the reader to understand the perils they would face in attempting to gain their freedom, to fully understand the risk they were taking and the consequences of their failure to succeed.

Slavery was an institution whose authority rested in the laws, created by the individual states. Laws were enacted throughout the south that defined who and what constituted a slave; laws that defined the relationship between the slave and his master. In this scenario, the Negro had no rights. In South Carolina the slave was defined as:

"Slaves shall be deemed, sold, taken, reputed and judged in law to be chattel, personal in the hands of their owners . . ."

And in Louisiana they were defined as . . .

A slave is one who is in the power of a master to whom he belongs. The master may sell him, dispose of his person, his industry, and his labor; he can do nothing, possess nothing, nor acquire anything but what must belong to his master.

Prior to the Civil War, throughout the south, slaves were not considered to be human beings, but merely chattel like horses, cattle, pigs and dogs. They belonged to their master and had no standing in the legal system. They could not bring suits nor present evidence in their own defense. If a slave were to raise his hand in defense of even his wife against her rape he could be put to death. If caught on the road without a pass from his master he could be beaten (moderately corrected) or even killed.

I speak of these horrors merely to illustrate for the reader the consequences of being caught as a runaway slave and the tremendous pressure the Crafts were under. Knowing that if they were to be found out, at any point along their journey, they would be beaten and if not killed outright, they would be sent into the very pit of hell for the rest of their lives.

This then is the remarkable story of Ellen and William Craft and their daring escape from the bonds of slavery.

ELLIE

John, the barnyard Negro, quickly tilted his head, straining to confirm the noise he thought he had heard. Stepping out of the barn he looked out past the winding dirt road that led to and from Clinton, Georgia. In the distance he could see the dust rising from the road and now he could clearly hear the pounding of the horse’s hooves as they plowed the road, bringing his masters wife back from town, back to the plantation. He could hear the pop of the whip as it cracked and the yelp of the horse as it hit its rump, making it bolt out even faster.

John, who most people figured was nearing his sixtieth year, ran, as fast as his arthritic limbs could carry him, round to the front steps of the plantation to await her arrival. He knew there was something terribly wrong for his master’s wife to be coming back from town so soon and in such a haste. He also knew he would get a beat’n if he weren’t there to attend to her and the horse. He watched as she pulled into the court yard and swung the buggy round, pulling to an abrupt stop inches from where he stood, sending him stumbling backwards. The horse, panting and sweating from the run, breathed deeply with its eyes spread wide open with fright as John took hold of the reins and tried to calm its frazzled nerves.

Git, git out of this buggy, GIT OUT! Missus Smith screamed at the top of her lungs, all the while swinging the horse whip and striking the young girl as she desperately tried to climb down from the carriage. Git in the house right now before I skin you alive! She continued to scream as John continued trying to calm the horse that was still spooked and jumping wildly. The young girl ran as fast as she could to the house, screaming in pain from the whup’n. Missus Smith stepped down from the carriage and grabbed her bags, giving John a most hateful stare. What are you look’n at? she screamed.

Noth’n mam, I just be tak’n the horse to the barn is all, he replied and quickly walked away, leading the old mare to the barn.

Missus Smith marched up the steps of the mansion. Turning, she saw many of the slaves standing in the yard watching her. What are you all look’n at, git back ta work before I tan your backsides! she yelled out, causing all the onlookers to scurry away out of sight.

Flinging open the door, she rushed inside where she could hear the young girl in the kitchen sobbing. Dropping her bags on the floor, she turned to face the banister leading to the second floor and yelled out at the top of her lungs.

James! James Smith! You come down here right now, you hear me! You git down here right now! As she stood looking up she heard the foot steps of her husband, Colonel James Smith, slowly crossing the floor above her head. With her eyes fixed on the top stair, waiting for him to come into view, she could feel the anger in her well up. When he finally appeared, the tall lanky man with his handle bar mustache, his drawn and weathered face, his long flowing brown hair, that was showing streaks of gray, looked down on her.

What’s she done now, Martha? he asked, in a calm voice, as he came slowly down the steps towards the short, stout woman, whose hair, now turned partially gray, hung loose about her face, a face now red with anger.

What’s she done? What’s she done, you ask? I’ll tell you what’s she’s done, she’s made me the laughing stock of this town! I will not bear this burden any longer! I will no longer take that child to town and have her confused as being MY daughter! She is not of my mak’n and I will NOT have anyone ever again thinking her to be of my flesh and blood! she shouted out clenching her fist. I know that I agreed that we would keep this one because you were so strong minded about it, but I CANNOT and WILL NOT have that child on this plantation one more day . . . do you hear me . . . not one more day!"

Feeling faint, Missus Smith turned and charged into the kitchen to get a drink. Entering, she spied the young girl in the corner sobbing and her anger rose again. Going over to her, she began striking her again with an open hand. The child screamed out as she received the blows. You’re nothing but a nigger . . . you hear me . . . you bitch . . . you’re nothing but a lily white nigger. The girl, holding her arms over her head to protect herself from the blows, sank to the floor, sobbing. Missus Smith looked down on her and raised her clenched fist to strike her again, when her hand was caught in mid air and held in place. Turning she looked at her husband.

That be enough, Martha. James said quietly. Looking down at the child that lay on the floor sobbing, he said, Ellie, you go on out ta the barn. Your mammy’s shucking corn . . . you go on out and hep her, you hear?

The little girl looked up out of her tear soaked eyes. Yes, daddy, I hears ya. Slowly moving, she began to crawl across the kitchen floor.

Go on . . . . git! You heard what your daddy said . . . GIT! Martha yelled out, causing the young girl to get up and run for the screen door, pushing it open with a force that almost took it off the hinges, as she lit out towards the barn. Aunt Sally, the kitchen slave, who was standing by the sink peel’n taters with her back to her Master and Missus, just shook her head.

Turning to Aunt Sally, Martha demanded a glass of water, as she walked over and sat at the kitchen table. Colonel Smith walked over to the screen door and watched as Ellen ran to the barn. Ran to her mother, ran to the woman he had had so many years ago, to the woman who had born him this child.

Drinking the glass of water as if she were dying of thirst, Martha began again. That girl is eleven years old this May and she is filling out to be a woman. She’ll bring a good price at auction. She’ll make some owner a good breeder. If you can’t git rid of her, I will do it for you! I will not have that lily white nigger on this land of ours any longer James! I cannot endure it anymore! She looked at her husband, who was standing at the door looking out at his past mistakes.

___________________

Captain James Smith, who had just recently turned twenty, was the oldest son of Colonel Alexander Smith and he hadn’t planned on going to town that day. His father, noticing they were running low on seed, had ordered him to fetch some from the local seed store in Clinton. As he rode into town he noticed an auction taking place at the livery stable and rode past the seed store to take a look. Pulling up to a buggy, owned by Mrs. Nealy, he looked out at the twenty or more slaves that were being put on the block. Mrs. Nealy looked up at him. Why, Captain Smith, good day to you sir, she said, as she fanned herself. James looked down at her and nodded. Morn’n Mrs. Nealy . . . these be your slaves on the block today? he asked, looking again at the platform.

Mrs. Nealy, looking back to the auction, answered. That they are, Captain Smith, that they are, a miserable lot . . . since my good husband died, I can’t get the damn ingrates to do half the work they used to do when he was around with his whip so I decided I would just sell them all and go up north to live with my dear sister, Ruth. She fanned herself more vigorously as the morning sun rose higher in the Georgia sky.

James nodded as he watched while several of the men being bought were taken off to a waiting carriage. It was then that he caught her eye. Standing straight, with her shoulders back, she stood staring out into the empty space before her, with a proud defiant look on her face. Her beauty was overwhelming and it took his breath away. The auctioneer called out her name.

Maria Nealy . . . . step up here, girl, and get a move on, I ain’t got all day! The girl, no more than eighteen or so, turned and stepped on the block. Turning to the men who faced her, she almost defied them to place a bid. It was then that she looked at James and he looked at her. Their eyes locked in an embrace and he felt his heart leap to his throat. Taking a deep breath he felt the excitement in him grow.

Mrs. Nealy turned and looked at him with a sigh.