MOSANA (THE UNION) - PART XI
EPISODE 11
The statement caught us off guard. Maybe it was the way she said it – calmly, like she was reading it off a book. Even Andrea went still. Breed slaves? That didn’t sound right on so many levels.
Mrs. Flounder suddenly grew agitated. “He’s tapping into the most lucrative source of income in the Southside! Don’t you get it?” She apparently saw that we didn’t, so she continued. “Andrea is an experiment. And he has just gotten his desired result.” She waved a hand at the baby. Then she looked squarely at us and said, “Why buy slaves when you can breed them yourself?”
It struck like a slap on the face.
Why buy slaves when you can breed them…
Andrew Flounder wasn’t just a monster, he was a psychopath. He was going to create his own supply, and eliminate the demand.
Mrs. Flounder’s voice snapped me back to the present. She was talking to Andrea. “I know you think that now that you have this baby, now that you’ve given him what he wants, he’ll let you be. But honey, he won’t. What’s happened now is that he has surveyed you like a piece of land and now that you’ve borne his child, you are a very valuable piece of land. And the Andrew Flounder that I know will make sure he uses every square meter of it. He will come again and again, until you can’t give him no more, and then he will be rid of you. And not just you, he will impregnate others. I know for a fact that he has been… uh, testing others.”
She paused and swallowed, her mind wandering a bit. “One thing I’m grateful to Old Theo for, is that he took my womb. God only knew the horrors I would have had to face at the hands of his son had I had one. Only thing worse than being a slave, is carrying the seed of the monster that enslaved you.”
We all looked at her, standing, kneeling, and lying down, listening to Mrs. Flounder’s soliloquy. After what seemed like a quick trip down memory lane, she snapped out of it and faced us again.
“Enough said, y’all got to go.”
Moet came back with the items Mrs. Flounder had requested, and set them on the ground. The latter inspected them quickly and gave judgement. “I need more, Moet. More food, especially dry goods, and another jug of water. Go.”
Before Moet could run off, Mrs. Flounder stopped her. “Wait. Bring the map on my mantelpiece, with paper, quill, and my ink bottle too.” Moet bowed quickly and went to do as she had been sent.
“I’ll ready the horses,” Mrs. Flounder said and left us.
By now, Andrea was sitting up on the makeshift mattress and breastfeeding her son. Fiona stood by, looking as helpless as I felt. “Where would we go?” she groaned.
“Mrs. Flounder knows,” I answered, sounding surer than I felt.
‘And you trust her?” Fiona retorted.
I looked at her squarely. “I don’t trust Mr. Flounder.”
Mrs. Flounder came in from the stables and grabbed me by the shoulders. “I’m going to trust you with this, Sarah.” She looked at Andrea and her newborn. “With them.”
I nodded. But she wasn’t finished. “When Moet gets back-” Moet walked in just then, with another bag containing the extra food and stationery that Mrs. Flounder had requested. The latter removed the map, paper, ink, and quill and began to write. I realized that it was a pass. She was writing us a slave pass to escape. This was getting real.
“Take this,” she said, thrusting it at me. “If anyone asks, you’re going to deliver Andrea to her husband because she has just had a baby. Her husband is a freeman who works at this farm in Wilmington. Fiona is her mother, and you are Andrea’s midwife, understand? Under no circumstances must you mention the Flounder name, alright?”
I nodded again. Then she showed me the map. “This is where you’re going,” she pointed. “It’s just up north river and far enough from here that you should be safe for a while. I know the couple there. Just tell them Grace sent you; they’ll know you’re in trouble. They’ll protect you and help you get across the border.”
“They white?” It was Fiona that spoke up.
“Yes,” Mrs. Flounder answered.
Fiona scoffed. “And how we know this ain’t a trap?”
“Why don’t you stay to find out?” Mrs. Flounder shot back. “Stay and decide which is worse!”
I watched the minor face-off for a few more seconds before I spoke, addressing Fiona. “They’re called abolitionists, Fi. They’re white, but they’re on our side.”
“Huh,” is all Fiona said, before she turned to help Andrea up.
“Can’t we keep the map?” I asked of Mrs. Flounder.
“I would give you, but it usually sits on our mantel, and it belongs to him. If he noticed it was gone…”
“I understand,” I nodded. And I did. God knew what she was risking letting us go.
“It’s the same reason I can’t offer you all a change of clothes, to at least help you to the border. I won’t be able to explain their absence.”
“And how do you plan on explaining our absence anyhow?” Fiona asked her this time.
“Leave that to me,” she said quietly.
For some reason, I doubted that she’d be able to deal with her husband. I couldn’t imagine how Mr. Flounder would take it. Three slaves running? Make that four, if you counted Andrea’s baby. I didn’t want to wait to see his reaction.
We came out of the sleeping room to find two horses waiting for us. I helped Andrea mount one with her baby, while Fiona sat behind her. I mounted the other and we proceeded to the road that led out to the woods. This way, no one from the fields could see us. It didn’t matter though. Everyone would know what had happened by the time we turned up missing.
“Get to the bridge as quickly as you can. Once you’re there, get into the woods so your tracks will be covered. Be careful.”
“Thank you,” I said, riding off with Fiona and Andrea on a slow canter.
The pass that Mrs. Flounder had given us proved very useful, and we were allowed free passage as three slave women on our way to another slaveholder’s farm. For the most part, we kept to the trees, but when we had to, we walked through roads, fields and other people’s farmlands. Our luck ran out on the third day. It happened like this.
We had met a patroller two days before, who we eagerly showed our pass too. Looking at us and judging from Andrea’s baby, Fiona’s elderly face, and my bowed head, the patroller decided we were who the pass said we were and let us go. My guess was that two days later, he walked into our county and heard that three women and a baby, who fit our exact description were runaways.
And he turned back the way he had come to look for us.
We were at the bridge by then, which led out of town. We had our horses at a walk because we were all tired, humans and animals alike. Below, the Ohio River rushed by in a current. Then we heard someone shout.
“Stop!”
I snapped my head back to see the patroller from two days earlier. I recognized him instantly. I also recognized the look on his face.
It looked like trouble. And it was coming straight for us.
The statement caught us off guard. Maybe it was the way she said it – calmly, like she was reading it off a book. Even Andrea went still. Breed slaves? That didn’t sound right on so many levels.
Mrs. Flounder suddenly grew agitated. “He’s tapping into the most lucrative source of income in the Southside! Don’t you get it?” She apparently saw that we didn’t, so she continued. “Andrea is an experiment. And he has just gotten his desired result.” She waved a hand at the baby. Then she looked squarely at us and said, “Why buy slaves when you can breed them yourself?”
It struck like a slap on the face.
Why buy slaves when you can breed them…
Andrew Flounder wasn’t just a monster, he was a psychopath. He was going to create his own supply, and eliminate the demand.
Mrs. Flounder’s voice snapped me back to the present. She was talking to Andrea. “I know you think that now that you have this baby, now that you’ve given him what he wants, he’ll let you be. But honey, he won’t. What’s happened now is that he has surveyed you like a piece of land and now that you’ve borne his child, you are a very valuable piece of land. And the Andrew Flounder that I know will make sure he uses every square meter of it. He will come again and again, until you can’t give him no more, and then he will be rid of you. And not just you, he will impregnate others. I know for a fact that he has been… uh, testing others.”
She paused and swallowed, her mind wandering a bit. “One thing I’m grateful to Old Theo for, is that he took my womb. God only knew the horrors I would have had to face at the hands of his son had I had one. Only thing worse than being a slave, is carrying the seed of the monster that enslaved you.”
We all looked at her, standing, kneeling, and lying down, listening to Mrs. Flounder’s soliloquy. After what seemed like a quick trip down memory lane, she snapped out of it and faced us again.
“Enough said, y’all got to go.”
Moet came back with the items Mrs. Flounder had requested, and set them on the ground. The latter inspected them quickly and gave judgement. “I need more, Moet. More food, especially dry goods, and another jug of water. Go.”
Before Moet could run off, Mrs. Flounder stopped her. “Wait. Bring the map on my mantelpiece, with paper, quill, and my ink bottle too.” Moet bowed quickly and went to do as she had been sent.
“I’ll ready the horses,” Mrs. Flounder said and left us.
By now, Andrea was sitting up on the makeshift mattress and breastfeeding her son. Fiona stood by, looking as helpless as I felt. “Where would we go?” she groaned.
“Mrs. Flounder knows,” I answered, sounding surer than I felt.
‘And you trust her?” Fiona retorted.
I looked at her squarely. “I don’t trust Mr. Flounder.”
Mrs. Flounder came in from the stables and grabbed me by the shoulders. “I’m going to trust you with this, Sarah.” She looked at Andrea and her newborn. “With them.”
I nodded. But she wasn’t finished. “When Moet gets back-” Moet walked in just then, with another bag containing the extra food and stationery that Mrs. Flounder had requested. The latter removed the map, paper, ink, and quill and began to write. I realized that it was a pass. She was writing us a slave pass to escape. This was getting real.
“Take this,” she said, thrusting it at me. “If anyone asks, you’re going to deliver Andrea to her husband because she has just had a baby. Her husband is a freeman who works at this farm in Wilmington. Fiona is her mother, and you are Andrea’s midwife, understand? Under no circumstances must you mention the Flounder name, alright?”
I nodded again. Then she showed me the map. “This is where you’re going,” she pointed. “It’s just up north river and far enough from here that you should be safe for a while. I know the couple there. Just tell them Grace sent you; they’ll know you’re in trouble. They’ll protect you and help you get across the border.”
“They white?” It was Fiona that spoke up.
“Yes,” Mrs. Flounder answered.
Fiona scoffed. “And how we know this ain’t a trap?”
“Why don’t you stay to find out?” Mrs. Flounder shot back. “Stay and decide which is worse!”
I watched the minor face-off for a few more seconds before I spoke, addressing Fiona. “They’re called abolitionists, Fi. They’re white, but they’re on our side.”
“Huh,” is all Fiona said, before she turned to help Andrea up.
“Can’t we keep the map?” I asked of Mrs. Flounder.
“I would give you, but it usually sits on our mantel, and it belongs to him. If he noticed it was gone…”
“I understand,” I nodded. And I did. God knew what she was risking letting us go.
“It’s the same reason I can’t offer you all a change of clothes, to at least help you to the border. I won’t be able to explain their absence.”
“And how do you plan on explaining our absence anyhow?” Fiona asked her this time.
“Leave that to me,” she said quietly.
For some reason, I doubted that she’d be able to deal with her husband. I couldn’t imagine how Mr. Flounder would take it. Three slaves running? Make that four, if you counted Andrea’s baby. I didn’t want to wait to see his reaction.
We came out of the sleeping room to find two horses waiting for us. I helped Andrea mount one with her baby, while Fiona sat behind her. I mounted the other and we proceeded to the road that led out to the woods. This way, no one from the fields could see us. It didn’t matter though. Everyone would know what had happened by the time we turned up missing.
“Get to the bridge as quickly as you can. Once you’re there, get into the woods so your tracks will be covered. Be careful.”
“Thank you,” I said, riding off with Fiona and Andrea on a slow canter.
The pass that Mrs. Flounder had given us proved very useful, and we were allowed free passage as three slave women on our way to another slaveholder’s farm. For the most part, we kept to the trees, but when we had to, we walked through roads, fields and other people’s farmlands. Our luck ran out on the third day. It happened like this.
We had met a patroller two days before, who we eagerly showed our pass too. Looking at us and judging from Andrea’s baby, Fiona’s elderly face, and my bowed head, the patroller decided we were who the pass said we were and let us go. My guess was that two days later, he walked into our county and heard that three women and a baby, who fit our exact description were runaways.
And he turned back the way he had come to look for us.
We were at the bridge by then, which led out of town. We had our horses at a walk because we were all tired, humans and animals alike. Below, the Ohio River rushed by in a current. Then we heard someone shout.
“Stop!”
I snapped my head back to see the patroller from two days earlier. I recognized him instantly. I also recognized the look on his face.
It looked like trouble. And it was coming straight for us.
________________________________________________
No author notes today.
See you next Sunday!
xoxo,
Ava.
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