The Swamp Colony

          In parts of North Carolina and Virginia prior to the Civil War, some blacks, both runaway slaves and free, had retired deep into the impenetrable swamps and forests far from the cities and towns and created their own small societies. Within these patchwork societies they built their own huts, raised families, hunted, and were able to live by their own rules. Harriet had heard of such colonies existing, but she hadn’t known of any in this part of Delaware. While walking, she prayed that this man wouldn’t derail them off their journey north.

           The stranger’s name was Boyd. He was fifty years old with a wiry physique and a personality that overflowed with charisma. He led his new group of prisoners deeper into the woods for quite a distance to a small area where the trees had been chopped down and three small cabins had been built. 

Image from Current Events

          There were torches burning around the site, and an assortment of men, women, and children were walking out from the cabins towards the visitors as they approached. The men wore layers of old tattered clothing and makeshift shirts made from bandannas and unbleached brown linen. Most of the women they saw wore dresses made out of a rough material that reminded Kyla of potato sacks. A couple of the women had blue and white dresses made from better linen, but even that material looked old and worn out. 

Image from Black Loyalist

          Kyla noticed a tilled garden area on the other side of the cabins. All of the vegetables had been harvested for the winter, but several rows of cut corn stalks and drooping tomato vines could still be seen lying dormant for the winter. A few chickens and some mangy dogs were roaming around the campsite. Zammie could count the ribs on one of the dogs that walked up to him. He felt bad for it. It must have been hungry. The dog sniffed Zammie’s feet, looked up at him with shiny black eyes then walked away.
           Boyd led them to a fallen tree that was behind the cabins and had them sit down on the trunk. There was a small bonfire burning in front of the tree bench, and everyone in Harriet’s group appreciated the warmth. Two wooden poles had been stuck in the ground about six feet apart from each other. A leather strap connected the two poles and hung tight in the air, and a series of fresh animal skins had been hung over the strap to dry out near the fire.
           “Fresh meat,” Henry said to himself when he saw the skins. “Bad luck.”

-- Entering the Escaped Slave Colony 

from Time Trip #2 (Chapter 26)

 

Image from University of New Hampshire 

 "Slave Hunt, Dismal Swamp" (1862) by Thomas Moran

Time Trip Adventure 1 

The Journey to Ancient Greece 

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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