The Darkness of the Union (2)
The aftermath of the unexpected economic panic had plunged the Northern economy of the United States into a massive recession.
Countless businesses went bankrupt, the ports that were always bustling with life froze over, and as factories shuttered their doors, a multitude of workers were cast out onto the streets.
Boston was no different.
And when the social safety net collapses, the first to suffer are those at the very bottom of the hierarchy.
Among them, Will, a fugitive slave who received no protection from any law, gained the startling realization that even at the bottom of hell, there existed a deeper basement.
“...What did you say? You can’t pay my daily wage today?”
“That’s how it is. Money isn’t coming in from the banks.”
“No, then you should at least divide up the money you have now! I did the work! How am I supposed to eat dinner then!”
“I’ll give you a piece of bread instead of your wage, so take that and get going. What? Are you going to report me?”
Damn it, damn it all.
In his heart, he wanted to drive his fist straight into the bastard’s face and do a Duncan Skinner on him, but if he did that, he would be the one arrested and dragged to the gallows.
No matter how absurd it was, he had no choice but to endure it.
Since they said the economy was so bad that even the white men were struggling as much as he was, what could he do?
It was just sorrowful that all he could do was hope the economy would recover quickly so those devilish men might become a little kinder.
But even as August passed and September, October, and November arrived, there was no sign of the situation improving.
“Hey, take your daily wage for today.”
“...No, wait a minute. This is different from what you said yesterday, isn’t it? Why aren’t you giving me the other half?”
“The daily wage dropped a little overnight.”
“······.”
“Ah, we’re struggling too. If you don’t like it, go ahead and report us. I’m telling you, we really don’t have the money! If we had it, we’d give it to you!”
We’re struggling too.
Everyone is struggling, so why are you the only one making a fuss? As expected, those n-words are selfish and only think of themselves.
Whenever he asked for the promised wage, these words would invariably come back, and lately, he even began to wonder if he was the one in the wrong.
What was this? Did it mean that a wage was something you were never supposed to receive in full, and asking for it was the wrong thing to do?
Was he really a malicious worker who harassed an employer who was truly having a hard time?
Hearing this everywhere he went, he was now truly confused.
If this was the true nature of the free life he had longed for.
Then what kind of dream had he been chasing, and what had he been living for all this time?
Around the time when helplessness and skepticism were eating away at his body.
After finishing the sewer cleaning, Will was heading home, trudging along with only a third of the wage he was supposed to receive that day.
“Ah... right, I left my necklace behind.”
A commemorative ornament that John Brown had made for him when they parted ways.
It wasn’t an expensive item made of gold or silver, but a crude necklace made of wood, yet he had taken it off at the office, fearing it might get dirty.
But when Will returned to the office to retrieve the necklace, he was forced to face the horrific truth of this world once again.
“Heh heh heh, hey, did you see that earlier? That n-word bastard leaving as soon as he got his wage.”
“What a moron. It’s amazing how he can even stay alive after getting paid that much, isn’t it?”
“I’m happy, though. Because the more money that idiot gets swindled out of, the less money leaves my wallet.”
The boss and the employee were giggling inside the office.
“Even if the economy is bad, it’s worth holding on because there are suckers like that to rip off. For all the manual labor, just using fugitive slaves like that is enough. Those bastards are too scared to even make a peep if you threaten to report them.”
“As expected of you, boss. Heh heh heh.”
He had known, but hearing this naked reality with his own ears made it feel as if a dark, murky emotion was surging up from his heart.
Freedom? That never existed from the start.
Then what was he, who had come all this way dreaming of something that didn’t even exist?
He hadn’t asked for anything grand, nor had he desired to enjoy immense happiness.
Yet why were these bastards giggling while trampling even this simple wish of his?
Will’s reason snapped right there.
When he came to his senses, all he saw was the pathetic sight of the bastards groaning on the floor with their nasal bones broken and teeth harvested, and...
“You ungrateful n-word bastard! I fed you and gave you work, and you repay my kindness with violence?”
“Immediately! Take him away immediately! Grab this bastard and hand him over to his original owner!”
...Only his own miserable self being dragged away under arrest.
At first, the Boston authorities considered it just another case of a runaway slave being caught, but as they continued their investigation, the possibility that Will might be a slave who had escaped from the Cedar Grove plantation was raised, and the situation was turned upside down.
The Cedar Grove truth battle, which would shake the entire United States just as much as the Anthony Burns trial, had thus raised its curtain with an accident no one had foreseen.
After hearing the detailed circumstances of the incident, a bitter emotion naturally seeped into my breath.
I knew Will; I had heard about him several times.
He was a name that Mark, who pledged his loyalty to me more than anyone else at the Cedar Grove plantation, would occasionally mention.
“No, why did you send him to Boston? You knew full well what kind of treatment he’d get if he went there.”
“He was a friend who wanted a free life more than anyone. I promised to give him the choice, so I had no other option. And my father told him that it would be different from the life he had imagined, so he could return whenever he found it difficult. But whether it was out of pride or because he still wanted to live in Boston... this result came about.”
“Tsk. Well, I suppose Mr. Brown couldn’t have known that an economic panic would suddenly strike, making them desperate to squeeze every drop out of the fugitive slaves.”
From Will’s perspective, one could only say he was unlucky, but most accidents in the world happen that way.
“But what does that have to do with Mr. Brown being in a difficult spot? Did Will spill the locations of all the safe houses Mr. Brown had prepared?”
“The opposite. He isn’t saying a single word. My father actually knew that if Will were caught by the authorities, he would inevitably face the death penalty. Because once they investigated, it would be revealed that he was from the Cedar Grove plantation.”
It wasn’t just any case; he was a fugitive slave who had killed an overseer and fled.
The South would unconditionally demand the death penalty, and with a charge of this magnitude, even the North couldn’t shield him.
Naturally, the verdict would be delivered swiftly, and he would be dragged to the gallows.
But if he just kept his mouth shut and exercised his right to silence, wouldn’t John Brown be fine?
I couldn’t understand why Owen had come all this way.
As if he understood my reaction, he shook his head and continued.
“My father told Will that if he were ever caught and put on trial, he should say that the Cedar Grove incident was John Brown’s doing from start to finish, and that John Brown was the one who killed the overseer. He should say he only fled in the confusion and had no relation to the murder of Duncan Skinner.”
“Hmm...”
I struggled to suppress the laughter that was about to burst out.
This fanatic of conviction really walks a different path than others.
Doesn’t that mean he’d rather have the bounty on his own head increase than have Will put on trial and executed?
“Instead, if he does this, I’ll have to remove my name from the board of directors of SS or SM. I was thinking I could put my name up in my father’s place. I’ve stepped away from radical movements, but I’m still working harder than anyone for the abolition of slavery.”
“That’s as it may be, but to summarize, the problem is that Will should be naming Mr. Brown as the culprit, but he’s keeping his mouth shut and heading for the gallows, right?”
“You understand perfectly. My father is making plans to raid the escort party to save Will if a death sentence is passed. Of course, if that happens, something truly irreversible will occur.”
Attacking public authority is of a different weight than the slaveholder executions John Brown has carried out so far.
If he carries that out, the South will have the perfect justification to eradicate John Brown, and the North, which had been turning a blind eye to his antics, will be under pressure to cut ties with him.
John Brown knows this too, which is why he must have sent an SOS asking for my help.
But even so, the fact that he’d just charge in like a head-butting dinosaur if there were no other way is truly like John Brown.
To think he’d give me such a surprise as a birthday gift—this crazy human being, really.
“When you think about it, the Cedar Grove plantation incident was something I asked for, and they helped us, so it’s my turn to help them. If a person knows what’s right, they should naturally do so.”
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“Instead, I will move in a direction that... no, wait. I will move in a direction that benefits me, so you and Mr. Brown must cooperate with me. If you do that, I promise to take responsibility and put every effort into saving Will. How about it?”
“Of course we will do that. My father wouldn’t truly want to raid an escort party either.”
Owen smiled brightly as if there would be no problem if I helped, but unfortunately, this incident wouldn’t be that easy.
The South, already emboldened by this panic, and the North, which is filled with venom—there’s no way they’d miss such a delicious piece of bait, right?
In that case, there is only one thing I must do.
If it’s unavoidable anyway, I’ll just blow the scale of this incident up so everyone knows about it.
So that the citizens of this country, already exhausted by the recession, can chew on it, tear it apart, and savor it.
To relieve the citizens’ stress, I began to spread this massive political bait through newspapers across the country.
The Democratic Party, which had finally grabbed a card that could distract the citizens’ interest from the economy, printed articles with a tone that attacked the Republican Party day after day.
Southern planters, who were already trembling with fear due to the Cedar Grove incident, cheered at the news that the culprit had been caught and clamored for the trial to be held quickly.
Of course, in the North, they cursed the South’s reaction and pushed the logic that it wasn’t yet known whether Will was the culprit or not.
“It is a harsh frame-up to label him a murderer just because he escaped from the Cedar Grove plantation! Present the evidence that Will killed someone!”
“He is a violent slave who struck a good white businessman and broke his nasal bone! Naturally, he must have killed someone and escaped, which is why he shows such violence!”
“Is it even sensible to forcibly repatriate a Black man caught in the North, which doesn’t recognize slavery in the first place! This is a clear unconstitutional act that infringes on the autonomy of each state!”
“The precedent has already been established, so how long are you going to insist on this? Execute the criminal Will, who killed a person, immediately!”
If a verdict executing Will were handed down here, it would be the third consecutive ruling reflecting the South’s opinion, following the Anthony Burns case and the Dred Scott decision.
They couldn’t be defeated three times—not once, not twice, but three times.
The North was determined to oppose the South’s claims unconditionally, but since Will, the party involved, kept his mouth shut, there was a limit to the rescue campaign.
Responding to the desperate wishes of the Republican Party, at last, a rising star of the Republican Party, who was gaining popularity, stepped onto the battlefield.
“The law must be upheld. However, we must thoroughly examine whether that law is being applied objectively.”
Abraham Lincoln, the new standard-bearer of the Republican Party, stepped forward, arguing that they must strictly examine whether Will, a Black man, had truly killed Duncan Skinner.
As the Republican Party’s debater, who was virtually certain to be elected as a senator next year, stepped forward, the public opinion of the North rallied in an instant.
“That’s right! Produce the evidence that he’s a murderer first!”
“Where is the evidence that he’s a murderer just because he escaped from a plantation!”
However, the Democratic Party was not so easily swayed as to miss the offensive they had barely managed to grasp.
“This incident is a matter of law and order. The Fugitive Slave Act is a duty the federal government must uphold, and the Republican Party is trying to implicitly justify violence and murder!”
“Hear, hear!”
“Republican bastards, stop defending the n-words!”
Stephen Arnold Douglas, the little giant of the Democratic Party and senator from Illinois, also joined the fray, and supporters from both sides began to flock to Boston.
Lincoln versus Douglas.
Republican Party versus Democratic Party.
And finally, the finishing touch.
With all the key players of the incident participating, the small spark that had started in Boston burned so massively that it threatened to swallow the entire United States.