Swift Currents

Callie, Eva, and Lucas caught the inbound swelling tidal creeks, floating several miles toward the heart of the sea island cluster. Though only an occasional directional paddle was needed, Lucas muscled the bateau faster than the current. He had a finely honed sense of the day’s urgency and was grateful for the push of the tide. This early evening, a crescent moon shone down upon Lucas and the women as it set in the southwestern sky, its angled sliver smiling on their mission. As they floated on silken waterways, they came upon different voices around each bend, lifting up passionate thanks to their God for the freedom he had bestowed upon them. From the largest plantation, the energy from praise songs rushed toward them like a flock of ibis suddenly lifting their heads together in flight. As those melodies became faint behind them, another chorus of inspiration rose from the opposite river bank. Not much further downstream, they neared the plantation with the fine new praise house from which rhythmic thumping of shuffling feet kept cadence to a quickening “shout” of love for a God so merciful. For all their lives, the slaves had sung spirituals to ease the ache of the present, to lift hopes for the better day coming, and to affirm their belief in an all-powerful God who would right the wrongs of the world. Now, their aches had eased, their hopes had been realized, their God had moved, and they sang of their freedom. Lucas and his passengers were content to ride the wave of river and song … no conversation needed. Once, when they were passing through a quiet area in their journey, Eva whispered as she drifted off to sleep, “Those spirits liftin my Mama to heaven tonight.” Callie responded that her people did not fear death, but saw it as an open door through which to go back home. Callie began to sing softly, lyrics known especially to boatmen around the sea islands. “Michael row de boat asho, hallelujah, Michael row de boat asho, hallelujah, Ribah Jordan chilly en wide, hallelujah, Milk en honey on de odda side, hallelujah.” Just as Callie allowed Eva to believe that her song was only about Christian comfort in the afterlife, with no reference to the freedom yearned for by all slaves, she also let Eva rest in the belief that the spirituals from the forest that night were meant to lift her mother’s spirit. Perhaps later there would be time to explain that the music expressed the feelings of a newly freed people. Lucas took the opportunity of Eva’s sleep to quietly tell Callie about Bowen—and his forced departure from Oakheart. Her eyes widened, first in fear and then hope, as she began to wonder about life without Bowen. Her shoulders slumped with relief, and tears came to her eyes. Then more spirituals came from the forests, washing over them as they flowed with the swift currents of freedom. With the smiling moon now below the watery horizon, the stars above shone more brightly than Callie had ever seen. As they floated up the creek to Oakheart just after midnight, they heard their friends’ familiar voices singing and shouting out to each other. By that hour, their zest was only slightly muted from the day’s celebrations which had resounded throughout the islands. Lucas was first to smell the smoke of cooking meat, purloined from the Captain’s smoke house, wafting through the trees. The feast for the stomach, though superb, was nothing like the sweet taste of having no master to fear. FREEDOM ! They had only imagined. Now they witnessed their friends, slaves no more. Dancing and shouting continued through the night, with no seeming limit to the shared elation. In each step, there was a little more jump; on each brow the furrow smoother. From each mouth a free voice sounded every phrase. All tongues were busy giving praise to God. To the faithful Africans of the South Carolina sea islands, no one but God himself could have brought about such an event, though high regard was expressed for Abraham Lincoln, who had sent his soldiers to scare away the planters. They did not know the future but they did know that this day, they were no longer slaves, and they did not choose to think about what the Yankees might do—not yet.