I WAS THOROUGHLY ENJOYING THE MOMENT WHEN RANDALL STRAIGHTENED UP, ALARMED. HIS HAND WAS IN HIS SHIRT POCKET, FEELING AROUND FOR SOMETHING. THIS TIME I SENSED REAL TROUBLE. THE LOOK OF PANIC ON HIS FACE TOLD ME I HAD BETTER SEE WHAT HE HAD IN THERE.
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SUMMARY: THE STORY SO FAR…
Josiah, a young slave 12 years of age, lives in a cabin in the slave quarters of a Virginia tobacco plantation with Auntie Bee, Mose, the plantation handyman, two young children, Randall and Emily. He notices Mose leaving the cabin in the middle of the night and follows him to his secret workshop in the woods where Mose is building some sort of strange contraption. Mose tells him it is a machine that will fly him to freedom. Now that he knows Mose’s secret, he stays to help build the flier. After mishaps, false starts and setbacks—the flier tumbles down the mountain and is seriously damaged—they are attacked by snakes—mountain lions lurk all around them—they realize someone has been spying on them and they think their escape plan has been discovered. Finally, their time has come. Now they are in the air, riding on the wings of the wind.
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I waited with my eyes shut tight and braced myself for impact. I could hear something happening. The sounds of the flier grew louder. Over my head, the propeller was humming. The grinding gears quickened and the rods were pumping furiously. After a short nap, our machine was stirring again. It was glorious, a miracle—the dead roaring back to life.
When I had the courage to open my eyes, I saw the propeller blades spinning in a whirl of motion. A powerful surge energized the flier and we rose steadily. The woods, now nearly in front of us, were coming on fast. Were we high enough to clear them?
We began hitting the tops of the trees. Our forward progress stalled as we fought through the branches, tearing away leaves, snapping off broken twigs that bounced up and smacked me in the head. A sharp stick punctured my cheek, drawing blood.
Through it all we kept going until we passed through the cluster of trees and out over the next meadow. When I looked behind the flier, the forest was well below us and receding in the distance.
I breathed a sigh of relief. We made it—but we took patches of leaves and branches with us, caught in the gears and rods. The front of the flier was a clump of green brush that broke off and clung to us. We flew that way, carrying part of the woods with us until the wind and the moving gears jarred them loose and they fell out.
Now we were really humming along. With a fresh supply of fuel and water, we were flying as high and as fast as ever.
I closed my eyes. “Thank you, God,” I said silently.
Soon it was early evening. The western sky was on fire. A flaming red line reached across the earth, touched by sprays of burnt orange and shimmering gold.
It was breathtaking. I think it was the first time I ever actually watched the beauty of a sunset. It occurred to me that I could have seen this every day of my life. Anyone can watch a sunset. All you have to do is look up. But I never did. How could I miss such a stunning sight?
I was thoroughly enjoying the moment when Randall straightened up, alarmed. His hand was in his shirt pocket, feeling around for something. This time I sensed real trouble. The look of panic on his face told me I had better see what he had in there before the situation got out of control.
I didn’t say anything, just reached for his pocket and this time, he didn’t resist. I was about to slip my hand in when—quickly, reflexively, I pulled back as suddenly as if I’d been bitten by a snapping turtle. I could not believe what I saw.
Posted By: Richard Kigel
Thursday, June 17th 2010 at 10:35AM
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