A merchant vessel traveling to Philadelphia. The captain is sympathetic to our cause. He has agreed to hide Dinina in the cargo hold to transport her as far as Wilmington where Garrett will be waiting. Once she reaches him, he will take her the rest of the way to Canada.
And you? Sarah asked what happens to you? I disappear. I have other identities, other places I can go.
Graves will hunt Jacob Marsh, but Jacob Marsh will cease to exist. The man he is looking for will simply vanish. Dinina tried to process this information. She would be traveling alone, hidden in the cargo hold of a ship, trusting her life to strangers whose only connection to her was a shared commitment to destroying the system that enslaved her.
It was terrifying, but it was also her only chance. When do I leave for the ship? Dinina asked. Tomorrow night we will move after dark.
Travel through routes. Graves will not be watching. The captain is expecting you. And he has prepared a hiding place below deck where you will remain for the duration of the voyage.
It will be uncomfortable, perhaps even dangerous if the weather turns rough. But it is safer than traveling overland where Graves has influence. What about my baby? Dinina said, her hand moving instinctively to her stomach.
What if I go into labor during the voyage? The captain has experience with such situations, Brennan said, though his voice carried uncertainty. He has carried pregnant women before, and he knows how to assist if necessary. But I will not lie to you, Dinina.
Child birth at sea is dangerous. If complications arise, medical help will be limited. I understand, Dinina said, though she did not fully understand, could not fully comprehend the risks she was about to accept. But she knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Staying in Georgia meant death. If not from graves, then from someone like him, if not immediately, then eventually. If not for her, then for her child. At least running north offered possibility, however slim.
Sarah moved to Dinina and embraced her. You are braver than you know, child. You are going to survive this. You and that baby both.
You are going to reach freedom. And when you do, you remember us. You remember that there were people who fought for you.
That night, Dinina could not sleep. She lay in the darkness, listening to Sarah's breathing, to the sounds of the forest outside, to the movement of her child within her body. She thought about Ruth, her daughter sold away two years earlier. wondered where that child was now, whether she was alive, whether she remembered her mother at all. She thought about the seven women who had been purchased by Thornton Graves.
Seven women whose names had been erased from history as thoroughly as their bodies had been erased from the world. She thought about Elias Cartwright, about the man who had raped her repeatedly and then arranged for her to be murdered to protect his reputation. And she thought about the people helping her. Bethy in Charleston.
Jacob Brennan risking his life. Sarah and Hannah opening their home. A ship captain she had never met agreeing to hide her. Thomas Garrett waiting in Delaware to guide her to Canada.
All of these people connected by networks of resistance, by shared commitment to undermining the system that made Elias Cartwright and Thornton Graves possible. It was beautiful and tragic in equal measure. this underground web of humanity asserting itself against inhuman laws.
The next evening, as darkness settled over the forest, Jacob Brennan prepared the wagon. He covered Dinina with canvas, arranging it to look like he was transporting supplies rather than a human being. Sarah and Hannah said their goodbyes, their embraces fierce and final, as though they understood this might be the last time they saw Dinina alive. The journey to Savannah took four hours, traveling slowly along back roads, avoiding main thoroughfares where checkpoints might be established.
Brennan said almost nothing during the trip, his attention focused entirely on watching for signs of danger, for riders who might be Graves's men, for any indication they were being followed. They reached the waterfront just before midnight. The docks were quieter at this hour, but not empty. Dock workers loaded cargo onto ships, preparing for dawn departures.
Sailors moved between vessels. Night watchmen patrolled with lanterns. Brennan guided the wagon to a warehouse near the far end of the wharf, a large wooden structure that smelled of tar and rope and saltwater. He stopped the wagon beside a side door, then climbed down and helped Dinina emerge from beneath the canvas.
A man appeared from the shadows, tall and lean, perhaps fifty years old, his face weathered by years at sea. "You are Brennan," the man said. "I am, and this is Dinina." The captain, his name was Samuel Porter, studied Dinina with an expression that might have been sympathy or might have been calculation.
"She is further along than I expected." "Five months," Brennan said. "Will that be a problem? It increases risk, but it is manageable.
Come, we need to get her aboard before the watch rotation changes. They moved quickly through the warehouse and out onto the dock. The ship was a three-masted merchant vessel, perhaps 90 ft long, its hull dark with age and weather. A gang plank connected the dock to the deck, and Porter led them up without hesitation.
Once aboard, he guided them below deck, down a narrow ladder into the cargo hold. The space was cramped and dark, filled with crates and barrels and coils of rope. The air smelled of mildew and something organic that might have been rotting fruit. Porter moved to the far end of the hold and pulled aside several crates, revealing a small space behind them, perhaps 5 feet by 3 feet, barely large enough for a person to lie down.
This is where you will stay for the duration of the voyage, Porter said. I will bring you food and water twice daily. But you cannot leave this space. Cannot make noise.
Cannot allow yourself to be discovered. If the crew finds you, I cannot protect you. The voyage will take approximately seven days, depending on weather and wind. Can you endure that?
Dinina looked at the cramped space, at the darkness, at the impossibility of what was being asked. Then she nodded. I can endure it. Good, Porter said.
When we reach Wilmington, I will bring Thomas Garrett to you. He will take you from there. Until then, you trust no one except me. You make no sound, and you pray that the weather holds." Brennan stepped forward.
He reached into his coat and withdrew a small cloth bundle. Inside was money, perhaps $50 in various denominations. "This is for you," he said, pressing it into Dinina's hands. for when you reach Canada for starting your new life. I cannot, Dinina whispered.
It is too much. You can and you will, Brennan said. His voice was firm. You are going to survive this, Dinina.