Sam Wood Floods of Ungodly Men

SAM WOOD

Floods of Ungodly Men

BY

HENRY E. PEAVLER

I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use. Galileo Galilei

This is a work of fiction. These events happened over 175 years ago. I wasn’t there. Many of the characters existed in ‘real life’ but I didn’t know them, so I created conversations, personalities and actions to fit my needs, not theirs. If you want a textbook description of the events in Bleeding Kansas and the actual people caricatured in this book, look elsewhere. I condensed dates and arranged events in an order that helped the narrative. This is a work of fiction.

Copyright 2020

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7344593-1-9

eBook ISBN: 978-1-7344593-2-6

Library of Congress Control Number: TBD

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form without written permission from the publisher

WWW.LivingSpringsPublishers.com

Cover design by John McNees/ NOW Illustration & Design [email protected]

All quotes and verses are in the public domain.

Dedication

Dedicated to the best friends ever, my brothers and sisters: Bill, Dan, Debbie, Veryle and Allen. 

Author’s Note

Historical fiction has often been criticized, and rightly so, for failing to accurately portray the culture of the time depicted. I admit that this narrative falls woefully short of accurately describing life in the 1850s, but that was not my intention. Historical Fantasy would better describe ‘Sam Wood’. He was a real person bravely fighting the forces of evil in the battle to end slavery and a textbook style description of his life could be written based on the mundane historical records to be found in the Ohio and Kansas state archives. I’ve taken liberty with Sam’s life and imbued him with certain powers that seem mythical. The few anecdotes I know about him leads me to believe that he had some kind of divine protection, or the luck of the Irish, because he lived life on the edge of danger. He challenged the Border Ruffians and the slave hunters face to face, and came out victorious every time, and without giving away the ending, he did so until the day of his death.

I’ve chosen to make Sam larger than life; where there is myth and there is reality, I selected the myth. In no way is this meant to demean the subject matter, slavery, the aftermath of which continues to haunt America to this day. There were many brave abolitionists, both black and white, who chose to go to Kansas and fight the slaveholders on their own ground, outnumbered and outgunned, yet, I have to believe that slavery would have ended eventually anyway, ground down by the weight of its own depravity. The black abolitionists mentioned herein have each been the subject of books, movies and plays. Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth and lesser known activists were the instigators of the entire abolitionist crusade, letting the whites know the true story of molestation, cruelty, wickedness and complicity by the churches and the slaveholders.

Sam’s fictional friend, Sally Thompson, writes a book about lesser known black insurgents such as Gabriel Prosser, Denmark Vessy, Anthony Burns and Harriet Jacobs. The people she writes about are real and there are hundreds, if not thousands, of examples of enslaved people who risked, and, in most cases, gave their lives in pursuit of freedom. These incredibly brave people were the catalysts for the abolitionist movement and the ultimate realization that slavery was the ‘greatest sin ever invented’.

Outspoken men and women of that time are still influential and well known even today, over 180 years after the passage of the Fugitive Slave Act. Politicians like Salmon Chase, who is the namesake of Chase National Bank and Chase County, Kansas, named in his honor by his good friend, Sam Wood. The abolitionists like John Brown, who generated tremendous controversy in the 1850’s, and his contribution to the end of slavery is debated still. He is best known for an ill-fated, ill-timed raid on the U.S. Armory in Harper’s Ferry, Maryland, but he also fought alongside Sam in Kansas. Female activists of the day, such as Susan B. Anthony and Elizabet Cady Stanton, were driven to action on behalf of the enslaved and insisted on equality for all. The right to vote for all men and women regardless of color or property ownership was their battle cry. Fascinating and brave people, all of them, both black and white, who fought the good fight against the foulest of institutions, slavery.

I have wrestled with the terminology used in this narrative, knowing that the words commonly used to describe the enslaved in the 1850’s, were degrading then and even more so today. I chose to use these demeaning words because that is what the enslaved were called at that time and to better convey the horrid conditions of those days. In addition, I have tried to standardize the capitalization of terms such as black, white, Negroes etc. Where the word is used as a reference to race it is capitalized. Where it is an adjective describing color, I have used the lower case. We, my editor and I, have attempted to be consistent in that regard. It is a sensitive issue and I hope that we have been evenhanded in dealing with a most unfortunate subject.

Sam Wood was a natural born leader, influential in changing the course of our nation, yet he failed in the court of public opinion since he would not compromise. History is better for it, because without him and others like him, the aggressors would conquer those who constantly turn the other cheek. Men who preached that slavery was ordained in Christ’s name—the ultimate blasphemy in Sam’s mind—were the evilest of men and he could not fathom how they corrupted the word of God to fit their unholy needs. As long as he lived, Sam vowed to fight against those evil powers, with words if possible and with force if need be.

The Mosher and Wood families were Quakers. They fled England, chased by the ignorance of fellow Christians, who viewed them as heretics. They sought relief from persecution on the distant shores of America only to find the same ignorance in a different coat. They fought back using the weapons of their faith, perseverance and determination, because their religion forbade striking out or taking weapons. But there were some, who, when the ugly aberration of slavery was too much to bear, refused to turn the other cheek because appeasement was fruitless and negotiations futile.

Sam Wood refused to compromise on any point when it came to equality—free the enslaved, give women the right to vote or go to war. He interpreted these words from the Declaration of Independence literally: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal….‘, and he was ready and willing to die for the cause. Henry E. Peavler July 1, 2020

Acknowledgements

 I want to thank Living Springs Publishers and especially the Managing Partner, J.V. Peavler, without whom this book would never have become reality. In addition, those early readers of the Sam Wood story who helped with context, grammar, and sequence: R. T. Kilgore; JJ Wooldridge; Candace Kearns Read; and Gayle Bowring. Your kind words and astute guidance made my job much easier.

PART ONE

FLOODS OF UNGODLY MEN

I therefore hate the corrupt, slaveholding, women-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial and hypocritical Christianity of the land... I look upon it as the climax of all misnomers, the boldest of all frauds, and the grossest of all libels. Never was there a clearer case of 'stealing the livery of the court of heaven to serve the devil in.' I am filled with unutterable loathing when I contemplate the religious pomp and show, together with the horrible inconsistencies, which everywhere surround me. We have men-stealers for ministers, women-whippers for missionaries, and cradle-plunderers for church members. The man who wields the blood-clotted cowskin during the week fills the pulpit on Sunday, and claims to be a minister of the meek and lowly Jesus. . . . The slave auctioneer’s bell and the church-going bell chime in with each other, and the bitter cries of the heart-broken slave are drowned in the religious shouts of his pious master. Revivals of religion and revivals in the slave-trade go hand in hand together. The slave prison and the church stand near each other. The clanking of fetters and the rattling of chains in the prison, and the pious psalm and solemn prayer in the church, may be heard at the same time. The dealers in the bodies of men erect their stand in the presence of the pulpit, and they mutually help each other. The dealer gives his blood-stained gold to support the pulpit, and the pulpit, in return, covers his infernal business with the garb of Christianity. Here we have religion and robbery the allies of each other—devils dressed in angels’ robes, and hell presenting the semblance of paradise.  Frederick Douglass

Quakers almost as good as colored. They call themselves friends and you can trust them every time. Harriet Tubman

1848

Free State of Ohio

Papa….Papa, they’re coming. I hear them down by the gate.

Go tell Sam to light the lamp, David Wood said, calmly, from his desk in the study.

Sarah had been up for two hours waiting for the conductor and passengers on the Underground Railroad and was beside herself with excitement although she had been a part of the scene for twelve years. The sun was near rising and the air moist with cool, pre-dawn Ohio mist floating up from the river. Sarah’s dress and petticoat rustled as she ran to the barn. The darkness didn’t frighten her like it did when she was little. Sarah Wood, at 13, was a gangly, loose limbed girl, all knees and elbows, almost as tall as her brother Sam who, at 23, was short in stature but brutally strong; a baby-face worked to his advantage when others underestimated him. He looked a contemporary of his brother, Stephan, who was five years younger, but Sam was thickset with massive thighs, large forearms and hands that could crush a skull. His eyes were blue but seemed black when the light was low, or his temper flared.

Sam, Stephan, are you in there?

Yes, we’re getting everything ready. Stephan is filling the water cask. Are they here?

They’re coming up the drive now, Papa said to light the yard lamp, I’ll go meet them.

The light cast her shadow dashing ahead until she was out of the rays and well down the lane, her senses alert for any changes in the familiar buzz of the Ohio night. She stopped as the sound of baying hounds drifted up on the wispy fog.

Hurry, she urged.

Who dah? asked a deep baritone, a man’s voice.

It’s me, Sarah Wood.

A woman answered, Sarah, run tu yo mammy and tell her we be in da barn.

Sarah’s words caught in her throat at the sound of the woman’s voice, Is that you, Mrs. Tubman?

Yes chile. Hurry long now, we doan got much time. It be light soon.

Sarah tore back to the house. She found her mother, Esther, in the kitchen. Mama, Mrs. Tubman is with them.

Really! What in the world is Harriet doing in Ohio? I’ll meet them in the barn.

Sarah hurried to the barn as the fugitive’s arrived, led by Harriet Tubman, the whip-thin former slave who escaped from her oppressive master to become a leader on the Underground Railroad. She was accompanied by John Thompson, a tall muscular man of ebony skin, born free, a conductor on the Ohio and Illinois lines; he was leading two men, a woman with a baby and a young girl about Sarah’s age. Stephan urged them to hurry to the ladder leading to the hidden room under the horse stalls, but they were interrupted when the girl entered the light and the lamp revealed a bloody mess. Sarah gasped, Your back is bleeding. Did you fall?

No, she didn’t fall, Massa Wilson, he whup her good. She’s in pain, John Thompson said. We need water to clean her. We ain’t had the time.

Esther Wood was not squeamish, but she was aghast at the sight of the brutalized girl. She set her children to action, Sarah, run get your old grey shift. Sam, there’s boiling water on the stove, bring the basin. Stephan, get some of those old rags from the bin on the mud porch, the clean ones, mind you. Come child, take that dress off.

Esther raised the ragged shift from the girl who clenched her eyes in pain. Sarah gasped when she saw the naked child, the blood and welts crossed her back in grotesque images of the cross like a sign mocking the Christian master who did it. The girl lay on a blanket with Mrs. Wood tending to her. The welts and blood didn’t stop on her back but extended down her buttocks and legs. The sound of the dogs baying and the light from the lamp lent an eerie pall to the scene in the Wood’s barn as the exhausted slaves slumped on bales of hay and the floor while Esther Wood cleansed the wounds.

Mrs. Tubman said, We got bout 20 minutes fore them dogs be on us, Ms. Wood, best hurry.

She nodded at Harriet and said, Stephan, get the alcohol and bring the salve from the pantry. Sam, put the basin here. What’s your name, Honey?

Jinny

Does it hurt, Jinny? Sarah asked. Why did he whip you? What did you do? she pestered the girl without giving her a chance to answer.

She run off, Thompson answered quickly.

Don’t you lie tu dese folk, John, Mrs. Tubman scolded him. Run off, my laws, you think you protectin’ dey honor or sumpin’? I tell you why dey done it. Cause dis chile, right here, bit dat ole man when he stick his bidness in her mouf. Might near chewed it off and I wisht she did. Filthy ole man. Not fit tu call hisself a human person. Not a Christian for damn sure, Harriet snarled.

Sarah turned to her mama in horror.

Oh, Jinny! Esther cried, I’m sorry you had to suffer such a thing, but we’ll fix you up real good. Dear Lord, give me strength, she prayed as she washed the blood from the child’s body. Esther was tall with dark hair that was turning grey. She had the ruddy glow of a farm wife who had borne ten children and nursed them through the maladies inherent in life, and did it with a smile, but she could not believe the inhuman cruelty of the slaveholders. David came into the barn in time to hear Harriet’s denunciation and gave orders with the bearing of one accustomed to taking charge.

Sam, you and Stephan go meet the trackers. Tell them that the runaways went on past our place and down to Bray’s crick. They won’t believe you but buy us a little time to cover the scent from the dogs. It should be light by the time they get here so you won’t need a lamp. Take a pick and shovel to work on the fence post and scatter some of the ground onion up our lane. John, who are they tracking?

I reckon Abraham here. They got some o’ his clothes from Massa Wilson.

Which Wilson?

Dat sinful old Jonas Wilson over in Clarksburg…., Deacon o’ de Methodist Church, laws, he a Deacon o’ de Devil. Dat what he is, Harriet shook her head. Dey doan come no more evil dan dat man.

Yes, I know him, David Wood said shaking his head in disgust. John, you and Abraham run back to the road and then take the path to the crick. Leave a good trail, then back here as fast as you can. Sam, take the dogs just in case there’s trouble. What’s your name? he asked the other man.

Carl, suh

Carl, if you would help the ladies down the ladder.

Esther finished her treatments, That’s all I can do for you, Jinny. You’ll have to sleep on your stomach or side, but I have some laudanum and that’ll help. Now, down the ladder. You can keep the lamp on but….

We’ll be all right, Ms. Wood, we most grateful fo’ yore kindness,

I know, Harriet, I’m just worried about those bounty hunters. Sarah, go with Jinny and help her get settled on the bunk. Cover her with one of the blankets, only to her waist, we’ll take the bandages off this afternoon and let the air get to her wounds.

Mrs. Wood turned to the mother with her baby. What’s your name, Missus?

I Charlotte n’ dis my babe, Homer. His daddy be Abraham, she said rapidly although the baby, about 18 months, appeared to be a mulatto. We couldn’t stay der no more, Ma’am. Massa Wilson, he gonna’ sell me an’ de baby down de river. Miss Tubman save us and Mr. Thompson takin, us tu de British up nort’. Dey doan llow’ no slavery.

Yes, dear, you’ll be safe there. Harriet, come to the kitchen, please. You can stay in the house; David won’t let them search the house even if they do come up here. Charlotte, you best go on down the ladder, your husband and Mr. Thompson will be back soon.

Here, Charlotte, let me hold de babe, while’st you climb down, Carl said.

I be long soon as Jinny settled, Harriet answered. She was a free woman, but her name was well known among the slave traders who knew that she was inciting the slaves to escape to the north. She had a price on her head.

Sarah helped Jinny ease down on the wooden bunk protected with a straw filled mattress. She lay on her side staring at Sarah, with large glistening eyes, black as the raised hand of tyranny and vacant with the despair of lost hope. Sarah comforted the girl by swabbing her forehead with a wet cloth. She had the same beliefs as her mother and father, but certain ideas and thoughts were confusing to her, the slippery inconsistencies of the adult world. Mysteries why certain things were true to some but not to others, why some people believed one thing and others believed the opposite.

What did he do when he came to you, Jinny? Sarah asked. Her curiosity getting the best of her manners.

He tole me wut he were gwin tu do. He say when de Missus gone tu bed he were gwin tu come fer me…., I cried! Den I bite him but it weren’t him whut whup me it war de missus, she call dat man, Ike, who work fer her. I feared I uz gwin die. De Missus say it my fault he came tu me like a husband. She say I tempt him, but don’t matter, cain’t be no Christian now, Jinny’s eyes filled with tears.

Sarah took her hand, Yes you are a Christian. You didn’t do nothing wrong; I promise you. Ain’t that right Mrs. Tubman?

Yes, yo right, Sarah, but you best git back up de ladder, chile, yo mama be worried for yu.

Yes, ma’am, soon as Mr. John gets back, I will. I want to help Jinny if I can. Maybe she needs some water or to use the chamber pot, I can help her if she does. Mama says I’m a good nurse. I helped Aunt Ruth when she was laid up with her new baby last month.

I spek’ you a fine nurse, missy. But Jinny fas’ asleep, Mrs. Tubman indicated the drugged child.

Sarah twisted the hem of her skirt and rubbed at some dirt on her wrist with the wet cloth. Mrs. Tubman watched the girl’s discomfort. What on yo mind, Sarah? You about tu squirm out’n yo clothes. What you want tu ax me?

Did you see the way Jinny looked at me, Mrs. Tubman? Like she was the saddest person who ever lived.

Dat de look of a slave, chile. She been whupped so many times and call horrible things and been use bad by de massa til she got nufin’ lef’, even at sich a young age. Ya see, de body can take a lot a pain cause’ it heal, but de soul…., when dat gone, ain’t nufin’ lef’ inside. Dat de look you see on Jinny’s face. De look of a human person dat done loss all hope.

My friend, Lilly Anne Beauregard…., she’s from Georgia….

Mrs. Tubman nodded. What do Lilly Anne Beauregard say dat got you so bother’.

She says the bible condones slavery, Sarah said.

Harriet leaned back in the cane bottomed chair and scoffed a sneer of derision, She use dat word, did she? Condone? Dat a heavy word…., fill dis little room it so big. Look roun you, Sarah Wood, at dis prison we in down here, look at dem dirt walls, dirt floor and dat chile layin’ dar wit’ her back stripped o’ de flesh God put der’. Do dis look like a place for a human person tu crawl down inta like a snake on its belly? I don’t believe dat God condone no such a thing. Dat idea o’ condonin’ come from de New Testament and dat de word o’ man not de word o’ God.

‘The sorrows of death compassed me, and the floods of ungodly men made me afraid.

He delivereth me from mine enemies: yea, thou liftest me up above those that rise up against me: thou hast delivered me from the violent man….’

Dat from the Psalm of David—de Ole Testament--God don’t condone no slavery, man do. You ax yo daddy and yo brother, Sam. Dey good people, tell you whats right an you best believe it when dey do. You put yo mind on deliverance and leave de condonin’ tu de heathens.

###

Why, der language down dar in de far South is jus' as different from ours in Maryland, as you can think. Dey laughed when dey heard me talk, an' I could not understand 'dem, no how. Harriet Tubman

Which way de path, John?

Follow me, Abe, but we got to hurry. Is your foot holdin’ steady? I hate to make you run but we about out a time.

I be fine. De thought o’ dem white folk hepin’ us got me all frazzle down. I doan unnerstan’ it.

They Friends, Abe.

How you come to be friend of a white man? I never thought no such thing possible. Is dat why you talks like a white man?

No, I mean that’s their religion. They call themselves Friends, or Quakers, I ain’t exactly sure, but they believe that all men and women should be free. They believe that each man, black or white, is equal to each other and women too. Hell, they want to get the vote for Negroes and women.

Abe stopped short; he could not begin to comprehend such an idea. He had no formal education, couldn’t read nor write, and believed everything he had been told about life. His place as a slave had been pre-ordained and although his family could be traced through five generations in America, he considered himself to be stateless, not a citizen but a piece of property. His Master refused to educate him, in fact, it was against the law to educate a slave in Virginia. Abe was incredulous, De hell you talkin bout’, get de vote for Negroes? Dat ain’t possible.

John laughed, but urged Abe on, Come on man we got to hurry. You need to pee? Do it right there on that patch o’ grass. I’ll do it over here, lead the dogs down here. You gonna’ see some things and learn some ideas like you never heard before, Abe. The world ain’t all like that hell you been livin’ down in Virginia. There are good people of every color and even some like Mrs. Tubman and the Wood family trying to change the world. I know it sound crazy but it’s true.

###

Think how long we clung to the institution of human slavery, how long lashes upon the naked back were a legal tender for labor performed. Think of it. Robert G. Ingersoll, The Liberty Of Man, Woman And Child 1833-1899

Stephan rocked the fence post back upright and Sam held the plumb bob steady. They both watched the road as the hounds came closer.

Let me do the talking, Sam. You always get us in trouble. Let me handle it, ok?

Sure, as long as you’re making the point clear, little brother.

You know Dad doesn’t want any trouble…., if we can avoid it.

Course not, Stevey, you know I always avoid trouble.

Stephan scoffed, You NEVER avoid trouble….

The dawn streaked in and the sun emblazoned the horses and the men with their track dogs. The Wood dogs, Bull Terriers named John and Adams, stood up, their ears and tails twitching with excitement. Stephan cautioned them, Sit! and they did, waiting for a command, ears pricked and their bodies tense. The boys stopped working and watched the men approach on horseback.

Good morning to you. I’m Captain Johnson from Meridian, Mississippi. Would you be so kind as to tell us where our slaves are? he asked. He was a stately man, upright with good carriage and relatively clean buckskins. He appeared to be a man of some distinction.

Who? Stephan asked.

The four runaway slaves that we’re tracking. You know very well whom I mean. I believe them to be at your house, yonder. You are some of David Wood’s boys, aren’t you?

How would we know where they are? Sam and I’ve been up at the barn milking. I imagine if they came by here, they’re clean to Columbus by now.

You won’t mind if’n we have a look for ourselves do ya? It wouldn’t be hard to hide four Niggers in that barn, the filthy tracker said, his beard full of debris, his mouth full of tobacco and his dogs pulling at their leashes.

Four Niggers? Sam spat indignantly. Hell, we’ve got a dozen up there. But you gentlemen can’t have em’, cause’ they are free now. This is Ohio and every man, woman and child in this great state is free as a bird in the air.

They are the property of Jonas Wilson and I have a warrant to bring them back to their owner and you are obliged to comply with the law.

I, sir, am obliged to comply with the laws of the Lord God Almighty. We must obey God, not men--that is from the book of Acts, Mr. Johnson, I advise you to read it.

I can quote the bible with you, if you please, Mr. Wood, Slaves, submit yourselves to your masters with all respect, not only to the good and gentle but also to the cruel, First Peter 2:18, the Captain countered.

Whoever steals a man and sells him, and anyone found in possession of him, shall be put to death; Exodus 21:16, Sam fired back.

Okay, now, stop it, Stephan pulled his brother back from the road where he was advancing with impunity.

"Stop? I will not. And if these gentlemen take one step onto this property, we will set the dogs on them