The Poet and The Hermit

By Roy Singer-Shay It was 1853 northern Pennsylvania. Slavery was at an all-time high, and so was the Underground Railroad. About twenty miles south of the New York border, a black family of slaves were silently making their way to Canada to escape slavery and settle down. The family consisted of three members: Robert who was the father, a burly man despite his malnourishment, he kept his strength by toiling in the fields and lots of labour. Then there was Joanna, she was tall and thin, with long flowing hair. If you didnt know her, you would never think she worked a day in her life with her appearance, but she worked just as hard as Robert for her owners. Jack was their son; he was eighteen and was very lucky to be kept in the same household as his parents. The whole family had been secretly carrying out the ways of their ancestors in terms of both religions and music. They had held very secret ceremonies and very quiet drumming circles, where they used makeshift drums from old supplies. But this passion of theirs was one of their greatest downfalls, as when their owners learned of the practices, they were held responsible. The owner claimed they were Rallying the slaves for a rebellion and was terrified at the thought. He sentenced all three of them to death. Before death came though, they were aided by the other slaves, who freed them in hopes that theyd make it to Canada. Almost a returned favour for all the spiritual guidance theyd previous given to the other slaves. Are there any more safe houses before we reach the border pa? Jack asked his father. Not that I know of. We should be fine though since we aint seen hide nor hair of any hunters he responded affirmatively. It was around six in the evening and they were still on the move. They wouldnt rest until they reached the border. Now just because we aint seen any dont mean they aint tryin to find us Rob. Joanna piped up. It was an unfortunate truth that they didnt want to acknowledge, but they needed to be reminded of to motivate them. Bounty hunters had been sent by the owners in Kentucky, and had tracked the family all the way up into Pennsylvania. The family has had many run ins with the hunters, but managed to escape and hide every time. The Underground Railroad had many paths and safe houses up in the area, mostly families of wealth who disagreed with slavery and would let slaves use their hunting cabins as safehouses. Hunters were deterred by these houses because lots were difficult to enter, and if they caused damage they risked being charged by the wealthy families that owned them. The other safehouses were Iroquois and Algonquian camps which were very hospitable to the slaves coming through. Few of the natives spoke English, but they always knew how to help someone in need. They had done it, they reached the border of New York, marked by a medium-sized wooden cabin in which they would spend the night. It looked like they were safe again for another night. Little did they know, that the bounty hunters chasing them were on their trail, but taking a stealthy approach. They climbed into the cabin through a hatch in the roof, and opened their bags. In them were things they collected on the way, and things given to them by friendly people. They had dwindling rations, and a hide blanket each. It was mid-July, so they needed only thin blankets and no fire. They chewed away at the last of their bread and salted meat, hoping to obtain more the next day. They were used to being

starved, but they found they could move further when they ate so theyd eat when they could. They were all tucked in and soon fell into a deep slumber, as an ominous force moved towards them. The hunters had their plan, they were going to camp out and execute the family as they climbed from the roof hatch. They set up a fireless camp and stayed very quiet all throughout the night, always remaining vigilant as they never knew when theyd need to attack. A third force would come into play though, as both parties spent their night uncertain of tomorrow, they waited. Around four forty-five in the morning, the family had awoken and packed up their blankets, they were ready to move. The hunters, groggy and tired from their all-night stakeout were still ready to strike. As the hatch opened the two men looked down the sights of their rifles, and were ready to finally end this manhunt. The first to come out was Jack, and then Robert. Joanna however had difficulty getting up the rope and onto the roof, and this took time. The hunters thought that if they were to kill the two men, the woman would be easy to take in the house, and maybe provide some amusement before they killed her. Behind them though, crept an older man with twelve gauge shotgun, and a rusty hatchet. He waited for until he was close enough to kill, but he was unfortunately too late as the two men successfully shot both Jack and Robert off the roof. They got up and turned around, only to be met with a hatchet in the chest for one, and a slug between the eyes for another. The man was in sorrow, two people died because his age restricted a perfect shot. He thought to himself that he could have shot to gain their attention, while the family ran off, but he didnt. As he looked at the bodies of the hunters in sorrow, he heard loud crying from the cabin. Now the hermit here was an expert at these cabins, and knew how to get in and out very quickly. Joanna was sobbing on the floor when the hermit looked down from the hatch. Im terrbly sorry bout your family now dear. I tried to save em believe I did but I was too late. He uttered as if it might be of any condolence. She just sobbed some more, clearly traumatized by the loss of her only family. Now I can getcha right out of here, and take you back to my cabin, or I can accompny you to wherever youre goin. He said in his calming voice. The hermit was about sixty, and rather scruffy looking, but his voice was like a soft yet reassuring hug, visibly calming Joanna. She looked up at him, and his face just spelled out kindness. Theres no point in me carryin on to Canada now. Without Rob N Jack with me itd be terrbly lonely. I suppose Ill go with you, better than dyin alone. She said between sobs. Joanna really opened up to the hermit and they had just met, he was shocked but also really glad he had a friend. The Hermit wasnt always a hermit. He had a family and friends and lived among the higher class of people. His named was Wilfred S. Vaughan, and he lived in a community called King Of Prussia for all his life. Wilfred lived with his wife and three daughters until one day he had come home to his daughters fianc raping and beating her. Enraged by this he picked up a brass candle holder and swung it against his head, killing the man. In court he was tried for murder, and received no sympathy. Sentenced to death, he managed a quick escape in the woods of Pennsylvania, and traveled north. Eventually he had come across an abandoned hunting cabin, and claimed it as his own. Surviving off of trapping and hunting, he primarily used bows and arrows, as his ammunition was limited. Joanna and Wilfred walked through the woods, and shared both their stories of death sentence, and escape. They bonded over their short walk, and eventually arrived at Wilfreds cabin. Mr. Robinson Call me Wilf. Mr. Wilf, I come from a culture where I hold ceremonies and sing for my religion,

does that offend you? Joanna asked. Not at all mdear. You are free now, and what you practice is up to you. Wilfred replied calmly. If you need any help, Ill help you with your religious ceremonies anytime, Id love to learn some too. Wilfred piped up. Well, it would be nice if I could make drums to play. Joanna sighed. I ran into an Algonquian tribe in my travels, they taught me how to make drums, and I believe I have the necessry material right here. Joanna and Wilfred began building drums together, and used them in song nightly. Wilfred was thrilled about this new style of music, how it really differed from a mouth-organ song, which would generally rely on melody. Joanna and Wilfred eventually fell in love, and later on in life had a child. The child was raised in music, and eventually left the household to become and emissary of their new music. The music was influenced greatly by Joannas African roots, with drums being the prominent instrument. But Wilfred was not only a hermit and hunter, but a poet. And his poetry found its way into the drumming circles theyd have. This music was something new and fresh, something to show the world. The son of Wilfred and Joanna, a boy named Wind, went out to be a traveling musician. As much as he enjoyed sharing his music with others, he enjoyed nature much more. As he grew older he spent more time with nature, and eventually moved out into the woods, like his father before him. Wind would occasionally stop in town for supplies, bringing his music with him every time. The story of Wind was told by him to many African Americans living in towns, and passed on from them to others. Wind was widely regarded as one of the most beautiful poets and musicians, and in his stories they often refer to him as The Hermit of The Woods.