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XVIII. MONTHS OF PERIL. THE search for
me was kept up with more perseverence than I had anticipated. I began to think
that escape was impossible. I was in great anxiety lest I should implicate the
friend who harbored me. I knew the consequences would be frightful; and much as
I dreaded being caught, even that seemed better than causing an innocent person
to suffer for kindness to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my
pursuers came into such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to
my hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket of
bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a reptile
of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which loosened its
hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so dark, I could not
see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and slimy. The pain I felt
soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was compelled to leave my place
of concealment, and I groped my way back into the house. The pain had become
intense, and my friend was startled by my look of anguish. I asked her to
prepare a poultice of warm ashes and vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which
was already much swollen. The application gave me some relief, but the swelling
did not abate. The dread of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I
endured. My friend asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was
good for the bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers
in vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed part. 1 I had succeeded
in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. They were harshly
threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to escape, they advised me to
return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and let him make an example of me.
But such counsel had no influence on me. When I started upon this hazardous
undertaking, I had resolved that, come what would, there should be no turning
back. "Give me liberty, or give me death," was my motto. When my
friend contrived to make known to my relatives the painful situation I had been
in for twenty-four hours, they said no more about my going back to my master.
Something must be done, and that speedily; but where to turn for help, they
knew not. God in his mercy raised up "a friend in need." Among the ladies
who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who had known her from
childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She had also known my mother
and her children, and felt interested for them. At this crisis of affairs she
called to see my grandmother, as she not unfrequently did. She observed the sad
and troubled expression of her face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and
whether she was safe. My grandmother shook her head, without answering.
"Come, Aunt Martha," said the kind lady, "tell me all about it.
Perhaps I can do something to help you." The husband of this lady held
many slaves, and bought and sold slaves. She also held a number in her own
name; but she treated them kindly, and would never allow any of them to be
sold. She was unlike the majority of slaveholders' wives. My grandmother looked
earnestly at her. Something in the expression of her face said "Trust
me!" and she did trust her. She listened attentively to the details of my
story, and sat thinking for a while. At last she said, "Aunt Martha, I
pity you both. If you think there is any chance of Linda's getting to the Free
States, I will conceal her for a time. But first you must solemnly promise that
my name shall never be mentioned. If such a thing should become known, it would
ruin me and my family. No one in my house must know of it, except the cook. She
is so faithful that I would trust my own life with her; and I know she likes
Linda. It is a great risk; but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word to
Linda to be ready as soon as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I will
send the housemaids on errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda." The
place where we were to meet was designated and agreed upon. My grandmother was
unable to thank the lady for this noble deed; overcome by her emotions, she
sank on her knees and sobbed like a child. I received a
message to leave my friend's house at such an hour, and go to a certain place
where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter of prudence no names were
mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I was to meet, or where I was
going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, but I had no choice. It would
not do for me to remain where I was. I disguised myself, summoned up courage to
meet the worst, and went to the appointed place. My friend Betty was there; she
was the last person I expected to see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in
my leg was so intense that it seemed as if I should drop; but fear gave me
strength. We reached the house and entered unobserved. Her first words were:
"Honey, now you is safe. Dem devils ain't coming to search dis house.
When I get you into missis' safe place, I will bring some nice hot supper. I
specs you need it after all dis skeering." Betty's vocation led her to
think eating the most important thing in life. She did not realize that my
heart was too full for me to care much about supper. The mistress
came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over her own sleeping
apartment. "You will be safe here, Linda," said she; "I keep
this room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are not
accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect anything unless they
hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care of the key.
But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; and you must
never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I will keep the girls
busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to bring your breakfast; but
it will not do for her to come to you again till night. I will come to see you
sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this state of things will not last long."
Betty came with the "nice hot supper," and the mistress hastened down
stairs to keep things straight till she returned. How my heart overflowed with
gratitude! Words choked in my throat; but I could have kissed the feet of my
benefactress. For that deed of Christian womanhood may God forever bless her! I went to sleep
that night with the feeling that I was for the present the most fortunate slave
in town. Morning came and filled my little cell with light. I thanked the
heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite my window was a pile of feather
beds. On the top of these I could lie perfectly concealed, and command a view
of the street through which Dr. Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I
felt a gleam of satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and
I triumphed over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are
constantly compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and
oppressed against the strength of their tyrants. I was daily
hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knew who was on the
watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for revenge than he did for
money. My brother William, and the good aunt who had served in his family
twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who was a little over two years
old, were thrust into jail, as a means of compelling my relatives to give some
information about me. He swore my grandmother should never see one of them
again till I was brought back. They kept these facts from me for several days.
When I heard that my little ones were in a loathsome jail, my first impulse was
to go to them. I was encountering dangers for the sake of freeing them, and
must I be the cause of their death? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress
tried to soothe me by telling me that my aunt would take good care of the
children while they remained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the
good old aunt, who had always been so kind to her sister's orphan children, should
be shut up in prison for no other crime than loving them. I suppose my friends
feared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as they did, that my life was
bound up in my children. I received a note from my brother William. It was
scarcely legible, and ran thus: "Wherever you are, dear sister, I beg of
you not to come here. We are all much better off than you are. If you come, you
will ruin us all. They would force you to tell where you had been, or they
would kill you. Take the advice of your friends; if not for the sake of me and
your children, at least for the sake of those you would ruin." Poor William! He
also must suffer for being my brother. I took his advice and kept quiet. My
aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month, because Mrs. Flint could not
spare her any longer. She was tired of being her own housekeeper. It was quite
too fatiguing to order her dinner and eat it too. My children remained in jail,
where brother William did all he could for their comfort. Betty went to see
them sometimes, and brought me tidings. She was not permitted to enter the
jail; but William would hold them up to the grated window while she chatted
with them. When she repeated their prattle, and told me how they wanted to see
their ma, my tears would flow. Old Betty would exclaim, "Lors, chile!
what's you crying 'bout? Dem young uns vil kill you dead. Don't be so chick'n
hearted! If you does, you vil nebber git thro' dis world." Good old soul!
She had gone through the world childless. She had never had little ones to
clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen their soft eyes looking
into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother; she had never pressed
her own infants to her heart, with the feeling that even in fetters there was
something to live for. How could she realize my feelings? Betty's husband loved
children dearly, and wondered why God had denied them to him. He expressed
great sorrow when he came to Betty with the tidings that Ellen had been taken
out of jail and carried to Dr. Flint's. She had the measles a short time before
they carried her to jail, and the disease had left her eyes affected. The
doctor had taken her home to attend to them. My children had always been afraid
of the doctor and his wife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor
little Ellen cried all day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of
childhood are true. She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs
annoyed Mrs. Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said,
"Here, Bill, carry this brat back to the jail. I can't stand her noise. If
she would be quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a
handy waiting maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with her
white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope the doctor
will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for their mother,
her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running away. She hasn't so
much feeling for her children as a cow has for its calf. If she had, she would
have come back long ago, to get them out of jail, and save all this expense and
trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! When she is caught, she shall stay in
jail, in irons, for one six months, and then be sold to a sugar plantation. I
shall see her broke in yet. What do you stand there for, Bill? Why don't you go
off with the brat? Mind, now, that you don't let any of the niggers speak to
her in the street!" When these
remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint's saying that she should
either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself there was very little
danger of the latter. I have always considered it as one of God's special
providences that Ellen screamed till was carried back to jail. That same night,
Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return till near morning.
Passing my grandmother's, he saw a light in the house, and thought to himself,
"Perhaps this has something to do with Linda." He knocked and the
door was opened. "What calls you up so early?" said he. "I saw
your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I have found out
where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I shall have her
before twelve o'clock." When he had turned away, my grandmother and my
uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know whether or not it was
merely one of the doctor's tricks to frighten them. In their uncertainty, they
thought it was best to have a message conveyed to my friend Betty. Unwilling to
alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to dispose of me herself. She came to me,
and told me to rise and dress quickly. We hurried down stairs, and across the
yard, into the kitchen. She locked the door, and lifted up a plank in the
floor. A buffalo skin and a bit of carpet were spread for me to lie on, and a
quilt thrown over me. "Stay dar," said she, "till I sees if dey
know 'bout you. Dey say dey vil put thar hans on you afore twelve o'clock. If
dey did know whar you are, dey won't know now. Dey'll be
disapinted dis time. Dat's all I got to say. If dey comes rummagin 'mong my tings,
dey'll get one bressed sarssin from dis 'ere nigger." In my shallow bed I
had but just room enough to bring my hands to my face to keep the dust out of
my eyes; for Betty walked over me twenty times in an hour, passing from the
dresser to the fireplace. When she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing
anathemas over Dr. Flint and all his tribe, every now and then saying, with a
chuckling laugh, "Dis nigger's too cute for 'em dis time." When the
housemaids were about, she had sly ways of drawing them out, that I might hear
what they would say. She would repeat stories she had heard about my being in
this, or that, or the other place. To which they would answer, that I was not
fool enough to be staying round there; that I was in Philadelphia or New York
before this time. When all were abed and asleep, Betty raised the plank, and
said, "Come out, chile; come out. Dey don't know nottin 'bout you. 'Twas
only white folks' lies, to skeer de niggers." Some days after
this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very still in my retreat
above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my mind. I thought Dr. Flint
would soon get discouraged, and would be willing to sell my children, when he
lost all hopes of making them the means of my discovery. I knew who was ready
to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice that chilled my blood. The sound was too
familiar to me, it had been too dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my
old master. He was in the house, and I at once concluded that he had come to
seize me. I looked round in terror. There was no way of escape. The voice
receded. I supposed the constable was with him, and they were searching the
house. In my alarm I did not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous
benefactress. It seemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended
me, and that was the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while
I heard approaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced myself against
the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and there stood my kind
benefactress. I was too much overcome to speak, and sunk down upon the floor. "I thought
you would hear your master's voice," she said; "and knowing you would
be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You may even indulge
in a laugh at the old gentleman's expense. He is so sure you are in New York, that
he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go in pursuit of you. My sister had
some money to loan on interest. He has obtained it, and proposes to start for
New York to-night. So, for the present, you see you are safe. The doctor will
merely lighten his pocket hunting after the bird he has left behind."
1 The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is
counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c. The Indians
are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb into strong lie. White
men, employed to lay out railroads in snaky places, often carry ammonia with
them as an antidote.—EDITOR. |