_Madison Washington.--His Escape from the South.--His Love of
Liberty.--His Return.--His Capture.--The Brig “Creole.”--The
Slave-traders.--Capture of the Vessel.--Freedom of the Oppressed._
The revolt on board of the brig “Creole,” on the high seas, by a number
of slaves who had been shipped for the Southern market, in the year
1841, created at the time a profound sensation throughout the country.
Before entering upon it, however, I will introduce to the reader the
hero of the occasion.
Among the great number of fugitive slaves who arrived in Canada towards
the close of the year 1840, was one whose tall figure, firm step, and
piercing eye attracted at once the attention of all who beheld him.
Nature had treated him as a favorite. His expressive countenance painted
and reflected every emotion of his soul. There was a fascination in the
gaze of his finely cut eyes that no one could withstand. Born of African
parentage, with no mixture in his blood, he was one of the handsomest
of his race. His dignified, calm, and unaffected features announced at
a glance that he was endowed with genius, and created to guide his
fellow-men. He called himself Madison Washington, and said that his
birthplace was in the “Old Dominion.” He might have been twenty-five
years; but very few slaves have any correct idea of their age. Madison
was not poorly dressed, and had some money at the end of his journey,
which showed that he was not from amongst the worst-used slaves of the
South. He immediately sought employment at a neighboring farm, where he
remained some months. A strong, able-bodied man, and a good worker, and
apparently satisfied with his situation, his employer felt that he had
a servant who would stay with him a long while. The farmer would
occasionally raise a conversation, and try to draw from Madison some
account of his former life, but in this he failed; for the fugitive was
a man of few words, and kept his own secrets. His leisure hours were
spent in learning to read and write; and in this he seemed to take
the utmost interest. He appeared to take no interest in the sports and
amusements that occupied the attention of others. Six months had not
passed ere Madison began to show signs of discontent. In vain his
employer tried to discover the cause.
“Do I not pay you enough, and treat you in a becoming manner?” asked Mr.
Dickson one day when the fugitive seemed in a very desponding mood.
“Yes, sir,” replied Madison.
“Then why do you appear so dissatisfied of late?”
“Well, sir,” said the fugitive, “since you have treated me with such
kindness, and seem to take so much interest in me, I will tell you the
reason why I have changed, and appear to you to be dissatisfied. I
was born in slavery, in the State of Virginia. From my earliest
recollections I hated slavery, and determined to be free. I have never
yet called any man master, though I have been held by three different
men who claimed me as their property. The birds in the trees and the
wild beasts of the forest made me feel that I, like them, ought to be
free. My feelings were all thus centred in the one idea of liberty, of
which I thought by day and dreamed by night. I had scarcely reached my
twentieth year, when I became acquainted with the angelic being who
has since become my wife. It was my intention to have escaped with her
before we were married, but circumstances prevented.
“I took her to my bosom as my wife, and then resolved to make the
attempt. But, unfortunately, my plans were discovered; and, to save
myself from being caught and sold off to the far South, I escaped to the
woods, where I remained during many weary months. As I could not bring
my wife away, I would not come without her. Another reason for remaining
was that I hoped to get up an insurrection of the slaves, and thereby
be the means of their liberation. In this, too, I failed. At last it
was agreed, between my wife and I, that I should escape to Canada, get
employment, save my earnings, and with it purchase her freedom. With
the hope of attaining this end, I came into your service. I am now
satisfied, that, with the wages I can command here, it will take me
not less than five years to obtain by my labor the amount sufficient to
purchase the liberty of my dear Susan. Five years will be too long for
me to wait; for she may die, or be sold away, ere I can raise the money.
This, sir, makes me feel low spirited; and I have come to the rash
determination to return to Virginia for my wife.”
The recital of the story had already brought tears to the eyes of the
farmer, ere the fugitive had concluded. In vain did Mr. Dickson try to
persuade Madison to give up the idea of going back into the very grasp
of the tyrant, and risking the loss of his own freedom without securing
that of his wife. The heroic man had made up his mind, and nothing
could move him. Receiving the amount of wages due him from his employer,
Madison turned his face once more towards the South. Supplied with
papers purporting to have been made out in Virginia, and certifying
to his being a freeman, the fugitive had no difficulty in reaching the
neighborhood of his wife. But these “free papers” were only calculated
to serve him where he was not known. Madison had also provided himself
with files, saws, and other implements, with which to cut his way out of
any prison into which he might be cast. These instruments were so small
as to be easily concealed in the lining of his clothing; and, armed
with them, the fugitive felt sure he should escape again were he ever
captured. On his return, Madison met, in the State of Ohio, many of
those whom he had seen on his journey to Canada; and all tried to
prevail upon him to give up the rash attempt. But to every one he would
reply, “Liberty is worth nothing to me while my wife is a slave.” When
near his former home, and unable to travel in open day without being
detected, Madison betook himself to the woods during the day, and
travelled by night. At last he arrived at the old farm at night, and hid
away in the nearest forest. Here he remained several days, filled with
hope and fear, without being able to obtain any information about his
wife. One evening, during this suspense, Madison heard the singing of a
company of slaves, the sound of which appeared nearer and nearer, until
he became convinced that it was a gang going to a corn-shucking; and
the fugitive resolved that he would join it, and see if he could get any
intelligence of his wife.
In Virginia, as well as in most of the other corn-raising slave-States,
there is a custom of having what is termed “a corn-shucking,” to which
slaves from the neighboring plantations, with the consent of their
masters, are invited. At the conclusion of the shucking, a supper is
provided by the owner of the corn; and thus, together with the bad
whiskey which is freely circulated on such occasions, the slaves are
made to feel very happy. Four or five companies of men may be heard in
different directions, and at the same time, approaching the place of
rendezvous; slaves joining the gangs along the roads as they pass their
masters’ farms. Madison came out upon the highway; and, as the company
came along singing, he fell into the ranks, and joined in the song.
Through the darkness of the night he was able to keep from being
recognized by the remainder of the company, while he learned from the
general conversation the most important news of the day.
Although hungry and thirsty, the fugitive dared not go to the
supper-table for fear of recognition. However, before he left the
company that night, he gained information enough to satisfy him that
his wife was still with her old master; and he hoped to see her, if
possible, on the following night. The sun had scarcely set the next
evening, ere Madison was wending his way out of the forest, and going
towards the home of his loved one, if the slave can be said to have a
home. Susan, the object of his affections, was indeed a woman every way
worthy of his love. Madison knew well where to find the room usually
occupied by his wife, and to that spot he made his way on arriving
at the plantation; but, in his zeal and enthusiasm, and his being too
confident of success, he committed a blunder which nearly cost him
his life. Fearful that if he waited until a late hour, Susan would
be asleep, and in awakening her she would in her fright alarm the
household, Madison ventured to her room too early in the evening, before
the whites in the “great house” had retired. Observed by the overseer, a
sufficient number of whites were called in, and the fugitive secured ere
he could escape with his wife; but the heroic slave did not yield until
he with a club had laid three of his assailants upon the ground with his
manly blows; and not then until weakened by loss of blood. Madison was
at once taken to Richmond, and sold to a slave-trader, then making up a
gang of slaves for the New-Orleans market.
The brig “Creole,” owned by Johnson & Eperson of Richmond, and commanded
by Capt. Enson, lay at the Richmond dock, waiting for her cargo, which
usually consisted of tobacco, hemp, flax, and slaves. There were two
cabins for the slaves,--one for the men, the other for the women. The
men were generally kept in chains while on the voyage; but the women
were usually unchained, and allowed to roam at pleasure in their own
cabin. On the 27th of October, 1841, “The Creole” sailed from Hampton
Roads, bound for New Orleans, with her full load of freight, a hundred
and thirty-five slaves, and three passengers, besides the crew. Forty of
the slaves were owned by Thomas McCargo, nine belonged to Henry Hewell,
and the remainder were held by Johnson & Eperson. Hewell had once been
an overseer for McCargo, and on this occasion was acting as his agent.
Among the slaves owned by Johnson & Eperson, was Madison Washington. He
was heavily ironed, and chained down to the floor of the cabin occupied
by the men, which was in the forward hold. As it was known by Madison’s
purchasers that he had once escaped, and had been in Canada, they kept
a watchful eye over him. The two cabins were separated, so that the men
and women had no communication whatever during the passage.
Although rather gloomy at times, Madison on this occasion seemed very
cheerful, and his owners thought that he had repented of the experience
he had undergone as a runaway, and in the future would prove a more
easily-governed chattel. But, from the first hour that he had entered
the cabin of “The Creole,” Madison had been busily engaged in the
selection of men who were to act parts in the great drama. He picked out
each one as if by intuition. Every thing was done at night and in the
dark, as far as the preparation was concerned. The miniature saws and
files were faithfully used when the whites were asleep.
In the other cabin, among the slave-women, was one whose beauty at once
attracted attention. Though not tall, she yet had a majestic figure.
Her well-moulded shoulders, prominent bust, black hair which hung in
ringlets, mild blue eyes, finely-chiselled mouth, with a splendid set of
teeth, a turned and well-rounded chin, skin marbled with the animation
of life, and veined by blood given to her by her master, she stood as
the representative of two races. With only one-eighth of African blood,
she was what is called at the South an “octoroon.” It was said that her
grandfather had served his country in the Revolutionary War, as well
as in both Houses of Congress. This was Susan, the wife of Madison.
Few slaves, even among the best-used house-servants, had so good an
opportunity to gain general information as she.
Accustomed to travel with her mistress, Susan had often been to
Richmond, Norfolk, White-Sulphur Springs, and other places of resort for
the aristocracy of the Old Dominion. Her language was far more correct
than that of most slaves in her position. Susan was as devoted to
Madison as she was beautiful and accomplished.
After the arrest of her husband, and his confinement in Richmond jail,
it was suspected that Susan had long been in possession of the knowledge
of his whereabouts when in Canada, and knew of his being in the
neighborhood; and for this crime it was resolved that she should be
sold, and sent off to a Southern plantation, where all hope of escape
would be at an end. Each was not aware that the other was on board “The
Creole;” for Madison and Susan were taken to their respective cabins at
different times. On the ninth day out, “The Creole” encountered a rough
sea, and most of the slaves were sick, and therefore were not watched
with that vigilance that they had been since she first sailed. This was
the time for Madison and his accomplices to work, and nobly did they
perform their duty. Night came on, the first watch had just been
summoned, the wind blowing high, when Madison succeeded in reaching
the quarter-deck, followed by eighteen others, all of whom sprang to
different parts of the vessel, seizing whatever they could wield as
weapons. The crew were nearly all on deck. Capt. Enson and Mr. Merritt,
the first mate, were standing together, while Hewell was seated on the
companion, smoking a cigar. The appearance of the slaves all at
once, and the loud voice and commanding attitude of their leader, so
completely surprised the whites, that--
“They spake not a word;
But, like dumb statues or breathless stones,
Stared at each other, and looked deadly pale.”
The officers were all armed; but so swift were the motions of Madison
that they had nearly lost command of the vessel before they attempted to
use them.
Hewell, the greater part of whose life had been spent on the plantation
in the capacity of a negro-driver, and who knew that the defiant looks
of these men meant something, was the first to start. Drawing his old
horse-pistol from under his coat, he fired at one of the blacks, and
killed him. The next moment Hewell lay dead upon the deck, for Madison
had struck him with a capstan bar. The fight now became general, the
white passengers, as well as all the crew, taking part. The battle was
Madison’s element, and he plunged into it without any care for his own
preservation or safety. He was an instrument of enthusiasm, whose value
and whose place was in his inspiration. “If the fire of heaven was in
my hands, I would throw it at those cowardly whites,” said he to his
companions, before leaving their cabin. But in this he did not
mean revenge, only the possession of his freedom and that of his
fellow-slaves. Merritt and Gifford, the first and second mates of the
vessel, both attacked the heroic slave at the same time. Both were
stretched out upon the deck with a single blow each, but were merely
wounded: they were disabled, and that was all that Madison cared for for
the time being. The sailors ran up the rigging for safety, and a moment
more he that had worn the fetters an hour before was master of the brig
“Creole.” His commanding attitude and daring orders, now that he was
free, and his perfect preparation for the grand alternative of liberty
or death which stood before him, are splendid exemplifications of
the true heroic. After his accomplices had covered the slaver’s deck,
Madison forbade the shedding of more blood, and ordered the sailors to
come down, which they did, and with his own hands dressed their wounds.
A guard was placed over all except Merritt, who was retained to navigate
the vessel. With a musket doubly charged, and pointed at Merritt’s
breast, the slaves made him swear that he would safely take the brig
into a British port. All things now secure, and the white men in chains
or under guard, Madison ordered that the fetters should be severed from
the limbs of those slaves who still wore them. The next morning “Capt.
Washington” (for such was the name he now bore) ordered the cook to
provide the best breakfast that the storeroom could furnish, intending
to surprise his fellow-slaves, and especially the females, whom he had
not yet seen. But little did he think that the woman for whom he had
risked his liberty and life would meet him at the breakfast-table. The
meeting of the hero and his beautiful and accomplished wife, the tears
of joy shed, and the hurrahs that followed from the men, can better be
imagined than described. Madison’s cup of joy was filled to the brim.
He had not only gained his own liberty, and that of one hundred and
thirty-four others, but his dear Susan was safe. Only one man, Howell,
had been killed. Capt. Enson, and others who were wounded, soon
recovered, and were kindly treated by Madison, and for which they proved
ungrateful; for, on the second night, Capt. Enson, Mr. Gilford, and
Merritt, took advantage of the absence of Madison from the deck,
and attempted to retake the vessel. The slaves, exasperated at this
treachery, fell upon the whites with deadly weapons. The captain and his
men fled to the cabin, pursued by the blacks. Nothing but the heroism of
the negro leader saved the lives of the white men on this occasion; for,
as the slaves were rushing into the cabin, Madison threw himself between
them and their victims, exclaiming, “Stop! no more blood. My life, that
was perilled for your liberty, I will lay down for the protection of
these men. They have proved themselves unworthy of life which we granted
them; still let us be magnanimous.” By the kind heart and noble bearing
of Madison, the vile slave-traders were again permitted to go unwhipped
of justice. This act of humanity raised the uncouth son of Africa far
above his Anglo-Saxon oppressors.
The next morning “The Creole” landed at Nassau, New Providence, where
the noble and heroic slaves were warmly greeted by the inhabitants, who
at once offered protection, and extended hospitality to them.
But the noble heroism of Madison Washington and his companions found
no applause from the Government, then in the hands of the slaveholders.
Daniel Webster, then Secretary of State, demanded of the British
authorities the surrender of these men, claiming that they were
murderers and pirates: the English, however, could not see the point.
Had the “Creole” revolters been white, and committed their noble act of
heroism in another land, the people of the United States would have been
the first to recognize their claims. The efforts of Denmark Vesey, Nat
Turner, and Madison Washington to strike the chains of slavery from the
limbs of their enslaved race will live in, history, and will warn all
tyrants to beware of the wrath of God and the strong arm of man.
Every iniquity that society allows to subsist for the benefit of the
oppressor is a sword with which she herself arms the oppressed. Right is
the most dangerous of weapons: woe to him who leaves it to his enemies.