ADVENTURE ON OCRACOKE ISLAND; CHAPTER 12: JOHN BEGINS HIS JOURNEY TO FIND IS FAMILY (12TH OF 14 PARTS)

"Brian, you're here!" John embraced his friend, who handed him the map. "Come along. We must hurry."

Together, the two boys opened the door in the wall of the springhouse. John climbed in first, and Brian followed him into the secret room. John pointed to the lantern on the ground.

"Brian, take that lantern with you but don't light it yet." Brian did as he was told.

"John," Brian whispered, a little fearfully. "Is it 1858?"

"Yes," John answered. "So you can stay with me only for a few minutes. You could get trapped here."

Brian followed John down the dark stairway. When they emerged at the river, they crept along the river's edge. Brian marveled at how different everything was, even in the dark. So many trees. And no houses, except for Belle Vie on the hill behind them. Even with a tiny sliver of moon above, it was powerfully dark.

"Can we light the lantern now?" Brian whispered. He started to reach for the wooden matches he had tucked in his pocket.

"No, we can't," John whispered back. "Someone will see us. It's not much farther." They were at the bend in the river.

Suddenly, the soft ground beneath John's feet caved in and he fell. He cried out as he dropped his bundle and clutched at the air. But before Brian could move, John splashed into the icy, rushing current. The water closed over his head.

"John!" Brian called. He could see nothing.

In a moment, John's head bobbed to the surface. He clawed at the water with all his strength. The river tried to pull him down. But he stroked his arms fiercely and swam. Sputtering, he made his way back to the bank. With a gasp he pulled himself out and collapsed on the wet grass.

"John!" Brian whispered loudly. "Are you all right?"

Brian reached toward his friend, and then he felt his own feet slip. This time, he fell in. He tried to shout, but the roar of the river drowned his voice. He choked as the cold water forced itself into his mouth.

As hard as he could, he kicked and flailed. He tore at the water with his hands, but the river fought him like a monster.

A terrible thought flashed through his mind -- Am I going to die? -- just before the icy water pulled him down.

* * *

John's mother, father and sister huddled in darkness on the edge of the Roanoke River. They were bundled in blankets, waiting. Another man, the tall slave named Joseph, stood and peered upstream. John's father broke a small loaf of bread into four pieces. He kept one piece for himself and handed the others around.

The air off the high, rushing water was chilly. It was as dark as tar, nearly impossible to see. But they dared not light the lantern they carried.

A small, wooden boat tied to an overhanging tree bucked and leaped on the water. Joseph looked at the sky. "The sky is clearing," he whispered. "You can see the Drinking Gourd." He rubbed his hands together to warm them. "Well, you made it this far, from Salem," he said. "But the hard part is to come." John's mother hugged the girl in her arms. "Do you see the stars?" she whispered and pointed. "Past the cup of the Drinking Gourd is the North Star. See, it looks like a drop of water falling out. We will follow it to freedom." Joseph began to pace. "It is late," he said. "There isn't much time."

"There is time, Joseph," John's mother said.

"I must be back before they miss me," Joseph said.

"You are a good friend," John's father said to him. "But we must wait for John."

* * *

It was the same night, but many years later. Melissa sat in the main hall of Buena Vista and listened to the Christmas music. But she was distracted, wondering what was happening on the river. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought people could probably see it. She glanced around at her grandparents and her mother and father, who had arrived that day from the farm in West Virginia. They smiled at her.

Outside, the paths around the house glowed with light. After they had gone to the evening church service and before the concert began, Melissa and her grandmother had lit the 100 candles that sat in small nests of sand inside red and green paper bags. Melissa and Amy had spent a week cutting out the designs and putting the luminarias together.

There was a large crowd for the Christmas concert, many more than their small church could ever hold. Grandma was beaming. The choir sang "Silent Night," and Melissa hoped that the night would be truly silent.

Grandma leaned over. "The candles are lovely, honey," she whispered. "Too bad Brian is missing this. I hope he feels better for Christmas Day."

Melissa whispered back, "I think he'll be all right. He just needs to rest." Brian had pretended to be sick in order to see John off safely that night. Melissa tried not to let on that anything was up. But she worried about her brother, who was not sick in bed but tramping along the dangerous river -- perhaps, she thought, many years in the past.

* * *

On Mill Mountain, high above the city, high above the Roanoke River, Amy stood with a crowd from her church. The giant white star glowed behind them.

The Sunday school students, nearly 50 of them, stood with their parents at the edge of the lookout. Each child held a tall burning candle. All the tiny lights against the black edge of the mountain was a magical sight, thought Amy.

Her mother began to read the Christmas story. Amy stretched her arms over the edge of the railing, hoping her candle could be seen from the river.

Chills ran down Amy's back as she listened to the words about the flight into Egypt. She couldn't help thinking of another family making another flight, following a different star.

* * *

John peered into the darkness and saw Brian's arms thrashing. He took a deep breath and jumped back in, and swam as hard as he could until he reached his friend.

John wrapped one arm around Brian and lifted his head above the water. He kicked and stroked with his free arm, gripping Brian tightly with the other, and swam to the bank. He dragged both of them onto the grass and helped Brian sit up.

Brian coughed and gulped. "John, you saved my life!" he said. "It was so cold and moving so fast."

"You must get back," John said in a loud whisper that was almost a shout. "I have dry clothes with me, but you'll freeze. Go back to the house, Brian! Time is running out!" Brian grabbed John's arm. "Thanks for saving me," he panted.

John gave Brian a quick embrace. "Thank you, all of you, for everything."

"It's okay," Brian said. "But how will we know if you made it?"

"You'll know," John said, and stood up. "Good-bye, friend." He turned and trotted off.

"Good-bye," whispered Brian into the darkness. He could see John's white shirt moving away in the night. For a second, farther off, he saw four dark figures standing still, waiting.

Then he saw nothing more.

With his lantern and matches lost in the rushing water, Brian stood in the dark. He began to shiver. As he turned around, he saw street lights shining in the distance. A car whizzed by on the road. Up on the hill, the windows of Belle Vie gleamed with candlelight.

Brian gazed up and saw the North Star, now bright in the clearing sky.

He looked around and realized he was standing by the elm tree that sheltered John's memorial stone. He stooped and felt for it in the grass.

The stone was gone.

Next week: The way to freedom.