MYSTERY OF ROANOKE; CHAPTER 13: JOHN FINDS THE WAY TO FREEDOM IN 1858 (THIRTEEN OF 14 PARTS)

When John stepped out of the woods, his mother gasped with joy. She ran to him and held him close. "John! It's been three years," she cried. "You are 13! Almost a man."

John's eyes stung with tears. "Mother! Father!" he whispered. He looked over at the little girl. "Sarah! Oh, I have missed you all so much." He was drenched and his teeth chattered.

Joseph whispered, "John, you need dry clothes. You will freeze." Quickly, while the others got into the boat, John squirmed into his extra shirt and pants.

Joseph handed John a paddle. "Did you find the map?" Joseph asked. John nodded. He took the map from his bag and held it up for Joseph to see.

"You know the river best, John," Joseph said. "You'll have to guide." He handed another paddle to John's father, who sat in the back.

John stood next to Joseph, watching and listening as the older man pointed to the map. In a voice so low they could barely hear him, Joseph explained their route. He traced his finger along the map's markings. "This is Tinker's Creek, which meets the river near the big house called Buena Vista. Pull the boat out of the water there and leave it. You will go upstream on foot from there. It will take all night. Carry the girl if she is tired, but do not stop.

"There will be bread waiting for you at the stone house, here, by a stream coming in from the west. You'll see the lantern. The people who live in the house are friends. But still, you must not speak even if you see anyone.

"Before daybreak, look for a cave near a fallen tree on the west side of Tinker's Creek. Stay inside for the day and rest. When night falls tomorrow, someone will come and take you to a school, called Hollins Institute, where you will be hidden again. A farmer will meet you. He will hide you in his wagon and drive you the rest of the way up the valley.

"Remember: This journey is very dangerous. Be quiet. Watch and listen every step of the way." He patted John on the back. "John will lead you along the river," he said to the rest of John's family.

John climbed in and sat in the front. The boat dipped violently on the water.

Joseph raised his hand in a wave. "Good luck, friends."

"Good-bye, Joseph," they whispered back.

Joseph untied the boat and pushed them off.

In the silent night, on the rushing river with his family behind him, John felt the warmth coming back into his body. His heart pounded in his chest. He glanced up at the clear, chilly heavens. The stars were bright in the deep blue-black sky and the brilliant North Star was there, showing the way. "Freedom!" he whispered.

"Not yet," whispered his mother behind him. "We have a long way to go. We must be quiet." John briefly looked back at the hill where Belle Vie sat among the trees. Its windows glowed with candlelight. He smiled and turned away.

The boat seemed to fly like a giant bird. In the dim light they could see the thick, black woods along the banks. With the water so high, John thought, they did not have to worry about rocks.

But they had other things to worry about: food, shelter, warmth and finding their way. Most of all, he knew, they had to worry about slave catchers and their dogs. But with Christmas Eve keeping people inside, it was less likely that anyone would see them.

They rode on the winding river in silence. Soon John's father said, "Look, up there." He pointed at the bell-shaped mountain that rose above the river on their right.

On the mountaintop was a great flickering light, like a star on a Christmas tree. It was reflected in tiny twinkling pieces in the water around them.

Sarah whispered, "Is it a fire, mama?"

"I don't know," replied her mother. "It looks like some sort of vigil. Let's hope they're not looking for runaways."

John shuddered and paddled harder. "We will be at Buena Vista soon," he said. A few moments later the boat rounded a bend. On a hill through a thicket of trees, they saw dozens of tiny lights glowing around a big house.

"There it is," John said. He guided the boat to the river bank, climbed out, and pulled it from the water. The others followed him.

They looked up and saw the North Star, still watching over them. A wind began to blow, rattling the brittle bones of the trees.

Along the edge of the cold, dark creek, they began their walk.

* * *

Hours later, through bare branches, they saw a light swinging in the distance. Was it someone in the woods? They stopped and stood still. The light rocked back and forth.

"I think that's the lantern," said John quietly. His heart thudded in his chest. "It's just moving in the wind." As they stepped lightly along the water, they saw that it was the signal lantern hanging from a post. They saw the little stream flowing in from the west and knew they were near the stone house.

John whispered, "I'll go get the bread." He climbed the bank and began to creep away.

"Be careful," his mother said softly. She sat on an icy rock and rubbed her wet ankles. Sarah fell asleep in her father's arms.

Suddenly a dog barked. The sound echoed off the rocks. Then it stopped.

Minutes later, John scrambled down the bank. He carried a bulging flour sack.

"Are you all right?" his mother whispered.

"Yes," John gasped. In spite of the cold, his forehead glistened with sweat. "The dog gave me a scare. But I fed him a bit of bread." His mother stood up. "We can spare a little bread for the silence of a dog," she said.

They began walking again.

* * *

Dawn had not yet lighted the eastern sky when the family found the secret shelter. It was a small, narrow cave by a fallen tree, nearly hidden under a tangle of roots. They crawled inside. The ground was hard and cold and damp, but they did not care. They lay together under their thin blankets and, within minutes, everyone but John was asleep.

John sat up and gazed out the mouth of the cave, where the glittering water tumbled over rocks. It would be a peaceful scene if he weren't so afraid, he thought.

Just then, he heard a gunshot in the distance.

His heart raced. He hoped that it was an early-morning hunter after a wild turkey for his holiday feast. He heard nothing more.

Gently, so as not to wake the others, he lay down. With a silent prayer for a safe journey, John closed his eyes and waited for sleep.

It was Christmas morning.

Next week: The letter.