Free Freedom Bound by Jean Rae Baxter Page B

moving from where he stood.
    â€œMrs. Doughty? I know her. I went to Quaker meetings a
few times.”
    â€œShe told me. But now I really must go back. I can tell you
everything on our way.”
    â€œWhat’s the hurry?”
    â€œI have to take a baby to his wet nurse.”
    â€œYou what ?”
    â€œI’m not the only homeless person Mrs. Doughty has
taken in. When I arrived, she was already hiding a runaway
slave girl with a baby.”
    â€œIt sounds as though she’s carrying on her husband’s
work.”
    â€œThose were the very words she used when I first came toher home. ‘I carry on my husband’s work,’ she said. I didn’t
know then what she meant.”
    â€œBrave woman—after what happened to him.”
    â€œShe doesn’t seem to worry about danger. Putting food
on the table is her main concern. She takes in laundry, and I
do the fetching and carrying for her. It’s also my task to take
the baby to his wet nurse twice a day.”
    â€œCan’t his mother provide milk for him?”
    Charlotte shook her head. “She’s gone. Slave catchers
caught her but left the baby.”
    â€œA great deal seems to have happened,” Nick said, “since I
left.”
    Charlotte placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and
     they set off.

    They found Mrs. Doughty sitting in the front room with the
baby on her lap. Patience, Charity and Joseph were playing
on the rag rug with painted wooden animals: a pig, a cow, a
horse.
    Mrs. Doughty gave a gasp when she saw Nick, and then
she smiled. “I prayed for thy safe return, but did not expect
so quick an answer to my prayers.”
    â€œNor did I expect to return so soon.”
    Charlotte sat down on the wooden settle, where Nick
joined her. He took his seat awkwardly, his big frame seeming too large for the small room. Patience and Charity
stopped playing and stared at him. Joseph crept to Mrs.
Doughty’s side and leaned against her knee.
    â€œThank you for your prayers,” Nick said, “and for taking
Charlotte into your home. Now I must beg you to make
room for me while I try to find lodgings where we can be
together.”
    â€œThee is welcome here for as long as thee remains in
Charleston, for I doubt thee can find any other place to
lodge.”
    â€œI know that all too well. Before I was sent to the backcountry, my work was to help Loyalist refugees. The Civilian
Department tries to find shelter for the homeless—the sort
of help that the Society of Friends provides for its members . . . and for others.” He paused, looking at the baby.
    Noah whimpered.
    â€œHe’s hungry,” said Charlotte.
    â€œI found him a wet nurse,” said Mrs. Doughty, “but he
isn’t getting enough milk.”
    The whimper became a wail. Noah’s tiny fist waved in the
air.
    â€œHe’s trying to put his fingers in his mouth,” Charlotte
said. “He does that when he’s desperate.” She stood up and
lifted the baby from Mrs. Doughty’s lap. “I’ll take him to
Friend Perkins now.”
    â€œI’ll go with you,” said Nick.
    Noah gave a mighty howl.
    â€œHis lungs are big enough,” Nick observed.
    â€œHe’ll stop crying as soon as we’re walking,” said Charlotte. “Whenever I take him outside, he knows he’ll soon be
fed.”
    As Charlotte promised, Noah’s crying ceased almost as
soon as they were out the door. “He needs his mother,” Charlotte said. “But I don’t think he’ll ever see her again.”
    â€œHow did Mrs. Doughty happen to take them in? Was it
something the Quakers arranged?”
    â€œNo. The girl—her name is Phoebe—lived with the
Doughtys for eight months a couple of years ago.”
    â€œShe must be the girl that Mrs. Doughty taught to read
and write.”
    â€œThe very same. She belongs to Lewis Morley. He’s the
baby’s