Johnny happens to be with Thomas when the news of his father’s death arrives. Johnny’s outraged to learn that a man can’t even go and recover his own slaves in safety.
Cruel retribution comes for the black community in Christiana, but it doesn’t dim Johnny’s fury. Five white and thirty-eight black men are arrested, and still no one is found guilty of the killing. William and Eliza Parker have fled to Canada. Why has no one gone after them? If Johnny were only older, he thinks, he’d see to this himself.
The whole episode clarifies his thinking about slavery, which it turns out is not at all the same as his father’s. He doesn’t say so to Mother, opposition to Father always making her so uncomfortable, but he shares his views freely at school, where they are largely agreed. Slavery, Johnny tells his schoolmates, is the luckiest thing to ever happen to the Negro. He describes Retreat Farm as a peaceful, happy kingdom until robbed of its benevolent king. “I have seen the black man whipped,” he will later concede, “but only when he deserved more than he got.” Over the years, he speaks often of what happened at Christiana. So does the South.
So does Frederick Douglass, who’ll say that Parker’s action, more than anything else, led to the destruction of the Fugitive Slave Act. Others, later, will call the battle at Christiana the beginning of the Civil War.
* * *
—
Father wants a larger house for the family on the farm. He hires an architect, James Gifford, to build something in the currently popular Gothic Revival style. In October, work commences with the digging of the cellar, done on Father’s instructions, in such a way so as not to trouble the nearby locust trees.
The new house will be pretty rather than grand, two stories high, with diamond-paned windows, a peaked tin roof, and a wide, pillared front porch. Asia names the house-to-be Tudor Hall. The old log cabin is to be given to Joe and Ann.
* * *
—
In November, Edwin turns eighteen.
* * *
—
In December, June sends Father a letter. He says that Father could make a lot of money by coming to perform in California, where gold is plentiful and elevated entertainment scarce.
xv
In 1852, June has convinced his father to come West.
This story begins in a familiar way. No one imagines for a moment that Father can make the trip alone. June and his Harriet （called Hattie） make the long trip from San Francisco to pick him up, and another actor, George Spear （Old Spudge to his friends）， joins them in New York. Old Spudge has the face of a clown—mobile mouth, pouches under his eyes, fringe of hair in a wreath around the dome of his head—and the voice of a tragedian. He can do it all.
Edwin is to be, at long last, left home. He’ll resume his schooling, catch up to Asia and Johnny. He’ll be able to finally accept an offer from the Baltimore Museum to join the company as a utility player, on salary, taking smaller roles and learning his craft. He’ll remember who he is when he’s not with Father—this will take time.
He will rest.
June has tickets on a steamer from New York to Panama. But at the last minute, Father refuses to board. He’s too anxious; even drink won’t steady his nerves. He insists he can’t manage. He needs Edwin. The ship sails without them while Edwin is fetched up from Baltimore.
This is crushing. Edwin arrives in a bad mood and everything about the journey will keep him glowering. After insisting that Edwin is absolutely necessary, Father all but ignores him in favor of the raucous company and sentimental reminiscences of Old Spudge. June, too, shows little interest in him. Edwin’s not spent time with Hattie before. She’s dark-haired and beautiful. He can’t help but notice this. Which makes it all the more offensive when she treats him like a child. Hattie is younger by some months than Edwin, yet she seems to think she’s the same age as June. It’s insulting.
Sometime during his earlier travels, Edwin’s caul mysteriously disappeared from Mother’s cupboard. He is naked without it. Anything could happen to him now.
* * *
—
The passage across the Isthmus of Panama is about forty miles as the crow flies. This is the quickest route west, but still takes a traveler several perilous days. The Chagres River is full of snakes and caiman. Fevers are common and often fatal. Worst of all are the Derienni, highwaymen who rob and kill travelers on the trail. Edwin consoles himself that June and Hattie have crossed two times now and are voluntarily doing a third. How bad can it be?
It makes sense, given his age and experience, that June take charge of the trip and also of Father. Edwin watches June attempt to keep Father in line by continually reminding him of all the money about to be made. Good luck with that! Hattie’s fa?ade of good cheer is fooling no one and Edwin wonders why she bothers with it.
She makes several attempts to talk to him. She asks if Asia might ever want to act. She asks what role he’d most like to play. She tells him that when gold was discovered in San Francisco, the sailors all abandoned their ships to go look for it and now an uncanny ghost fleet floats about the bay. She’s already not as pretty as when the trip started, her hair in oily braids, her fingernails torn and filthy. But her eyes are as lively as ever, her mood unsinkable. Edwin answers in uninformative monosyllables until she stops trying. For the whole of the trip, Edwin hardly speaks to any of them.
In some ways, their timing is providential. Back in 1850, the railroad had hired Randolph Runnels, an ex–Texas ranger, to deal with the problem of the Derienni. Runnels was a young man, but experienced in murder; he’d served in the Indian Wars. Two years earlier, a Pentecostal preacher prophesied that a call would come for him, asking him to travel in a strange land over a river of demons and monsters to battle a dark and deadly pestilence. It was the Lord’s will that this call be accepted. When the railroad man arrived to fetch him, stammering out his request, Runnels said, “What took you so long?” His bag was already packed.
William Nelson was the American consul stationed in Panama City at that time. He met with Runnels and secretly empowered him to deal with the Derienni by whatever means he chose. Maybe take care of some labor unrest in his spare time. Runnels formed a society of vigilantes who called themselves the Isthmus Guard. In 1852, Runnels gets a message from Nelson. Now.
Next morning, the residents of Panama City wake to find thirty-seven bodies hanging along the seawall. These men were dragged from the brothels, gaming halls, and their homes in the night by masked members of the Isthmus Guard. In October, an additional forty-one men will be hanged.
The locals keep their distance from Runnels. If he speaks to them, which they desperately try to avoid, they look at the ground while answering. They call him El Verdugo, the Executioner, because, Runnels thinks, they don’t know the fist of God even when it strikes them in the face.
The Booths travel the Isthmus in the period between these two mass lynchings. This is a period of relative safety for travelers, but no one has told Edwin this. Nothing that happens feels safe to him. He’s more and more astonished at June and Hattie’s willingness to repeat the trip.
Eleven days after leaving New York, they arrive at the mouth of the Chagres River. Crowds of gold-seekers mob the beaches—some of them coming, some of them going. Those on their way home can be identified by their infirmities and their filth. Some of them are filthy rich.