Forty years ago, the escapes of slaves from the South, although
numerous, were nevertheless difficult, owing to the large rewards
offered for their apprehension, and the easy mode of extradition
from the Northern States. Little or no difficulty was experienced
in capturing and returning a slave from Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, or
Pennsylvania, the four States through which the fugitives had to pass
in their flight to Canada. The Quaker element in all of the above
States showed itself in the furnishing of food to the flying bondman,
concealing him for days, and even weeks, and at last conveying him to
a place of safety, or carrying him to the Queen’s dominions.
Instinct seemed to tell the negro that a drab coat and a broad-brimmed
hat covered a benevolent heart, and we have no record of his ever
having been deceived. It is possible that the few Friends scattered
over the slave States, and the fact that they were never known to own a
slave, gave the blacks a favorable impression of this sect, before the
victim of oppression left his sunny birth-place.
A brave and manly slave resolved to escape from Natchez, Miss. This
slave, whose name was Jerome, was of pure African origin, was perfectly
black, very fine-looking, tall, slim, and erect as any one could
possibly be. His features were not bad, lips thin, nose prominent,
hands and feet small. His brilliant black eyes lighted up his whole
countenance. His hair, which was nearly straight, hung in curls upon
his lofty brow. George Combe or Fowler would have selected his head for
a model. He was brave and daring, strong in person, fiery in spirit,
yet kind and true in his affections, earnest in whatever he undertook.
To reach the free States or Canada, by travelling by night and lying
by during the day, from a State so far south as Mississippi, no one
would think for a moment of attempting to escape. To remain in the city
would be a suicidal step. The deep sound of the escape of steam from
a boat, which was at that moment ascending the river, broke upon the
ears of the slave. “If that boat is going up the river,” said he, “why
not I conceal myself on board, and try to escape?” He went at once to
the steamboat landing, where the boat was just coming in. “Bound for
Louisville,” said the captain, to one who was making inquiries. As the
passengers were rushing on board, Jerome followed them, and proceeding
to where some of the hands were stowing away bales of goods, he took
hold and aided them.
“Jump down into the hold, there, and help the men,” said the mate to
the fugitive, supposing that, like many persons, he was working his way
up the river. Once in the hull, among the boxes, the slave concealed
himself. Weary hours, and at last days, passed without either water or
food with the hidden slave. More than once did he resolve to let his
case be known; but the knowledge that he would be sent back to Natchez,
kept him from doing so. At last, with his lips parched and fevered to
a crisp, the poor man crawled out into the freight-room, and began
wandering about. The hatches were on, and the room dark. There happened
to be on board, a wedding-party; and a box, containing some of the
bridal cake, with several bottles of port wine, was near Jerome. He
found the box, opened it, and helped himself. In eight days, the boat
tied up at the wharf at the place of her destination. It was late at
night; the boat’s crew, with the single exception of the man on watch,
were on shore. The hatches were off, and the fugitive quietly made his
way on deck and jumped on shore. The man saw the fugitive, but too late
to seize him.
Still in a slave State, Jerome was at a loss to know how he should
proceed. He had with him a few dollars, enough to pay his way to
Canada, if he could find a conveyance. The fugitive procured such food
as he wanted from one of the many eating-houses, and then, following
the direction of the North Star, he passed out of the city, and took
the road leading to Covington. Keeping near the Ohio River, Jerome
soon found an opportunity to pass over into the State of Indiana. But
liberty was a mere name in the latter State, and the fugitive learned,
from some colored persons that he met, that it was not safe to travel
by daylight. While making his way one night, with nothing to cheer him
but the prospect of freedom in the future, he was pounced upon by three
men who were lying in wait for another fugitive, an advertisement of
whom they had received through the mail. In vain did Jerome tell tell
them that he was not a slave. True, they had not caught the man they
expected; but, if they could make this slave tell from what place he
had escaped, they knew that a good price would be paid them for the
slave’s arrest.
Tortured by the slave-catchers, to make him reveal the name of his
owner and the place from whence he had escaped, Jerome gave them a
fictitious name in Virginia, and said that his master would give a
large reward, and manifested a willingness to return to his “old boss.”
By this misrepresentation, the fugitive hoped to have another chance of
getting away.
Allured with the prospect of a large sum of the needful the
slave-catchers started back with their victim. Stopping on the second
night at an inn, on the banks of the Ohio River, the kidnappers, in
lieu of a suitable place in which to confine their prize during the
night, chained him to the bed-post of their sleeping chamber.
The white men were late in retiring to rest, after an evening spent
in drinking. At dead of night, when all was still, the slave arose
from the floor, upon which he had been lying, looked around and saw
that Morpheus had possession of his captors. “For once,” thought he,
“the brandy bottle has done a noble work.” With palpitating heart and
trembling limbs, he viewed his position. The door was fast, but the
warm weather had compelled them to leave the window open. If he could
but get the chains off, he might escape through the window to the
piazza. The sleepers’ clothes hung upon chairs by the bedside. The
slave thought of the padlock key, examined the pockets, and found it.
The chains were soon off, and the negro stealthily making his way to
the window. He stopped, and said to himself, “These men are villains,
they are enemies to all who, like me, are trying to be free. Then why
not teach them a lesson?” He then dressed himself in the best suit,
hung his own worn-out and tattered garments on the same chair, and
silently passed through the window to the piazza, and let himself down
by one of the pillars, and started once more for Canada.
Daylight came upon him before he had selected a hiding-place for the
day, and he was walking at a rapid rate, in hopes of soon reaching some
woodland or forest. The sun had just begun to show itself, when Jerome
was astonished at seeing behind him, in the distance, two men upon
horseback. Taking a road to the right he saw before him a farmhouse,
and so near was he to it that he observed two men in front of him
looking at him. It was too late to turn back. The kidnappers were
behind--strange men before. Those in the rear he knew to be enemies,
while he had no idea of what principles were the farmers. The latter
also saw the white men coming, and called to the fugitive to come that
way.
The broad-brimmed hats that the farmers wore told the slave that they
were Quakers.
Jerome had seen some of these people passing up and down the river,
when employed on a steamer between Natchez and New Orleans, and had
heard that they disliked slavery. He, therefore, hastened toward the
drab-coated men, who, on his approach, opened the barn-door, and told
him to “run in.”
When Jerome entered the barn, the two farmers closed the door,
remaining outside themselves, to confront the slave-catchers, who now
came up and demanded admission, feeling that they had their prey secure.
“Thee can’t enter my premises,” said one of the Friends, in rather a
musical voice.
The negro-catchers urged their claim to the slave, and intimated that,
unless they were allowed to secure him, they would force their way in.
By this time, several other Quakers had gathered around the barn-door.
Unfortunately for the kidnappers, and most fortunately for the
fugitive, the Friends had just been holding a quarterly meeting in the
neighborhood, and a number of them had not yet returned to their homes.
After some talk, the men in drab promised to admit the hunters,
provided they procured an officer and a search-warrant from a justice
of the peace. One of the slave-catchers was left to see that the
fugitive did not get away, while the other went in pursuit of an
officer. In the mean time, the owner of the barn sent for a hammer and
nails, and began nailing up the barn-door.
After an hour in search of the man of the law, they returned with an
officer and a warrant. The Quaker demanded to see the paper, and, after
looking at it for some time, called to his son to go into the house
for his glasses. It was a long time before Aunt Ruth found the leather
case, and when she did, the glasses wanted wiping before they could be
used. After comfortably adjusting them on his nose, he read the warrant
over leisurely.
“Come, Mr. Dugdale, we can’t wait all day,” said the officer.
“Well, will thee read it for me?” returned the Quaker.
The officer complied, and the man in drab said,--“Yes, thee may go in,
now. I am inclined to throw no obstacles in the way of the execution of
the law of the land.”
On approaching the door, the men found some forty or fifty nails in it,
in the way of their progress.
“Lend me your hammer and a chisel, if you please, Mr. Dugdale,” said
the officer.
“Please read that paper over again, will thee?” asked the Quaker.
The officer once more read the warrant.
“I see nothing there which says I must furnish thee with tools to open
my door. If thee wants a hammer, thee must go elsewhere for it; I tell
thee plainly, thee can’t have mine.”
The implements for opening the door are at length obtained, and, after
another half hour, the slave-catchers are in the barn. Three hours is a
long time for a slave to be in the hands of Quakers. The hay is turned
over, and the barn is visited in every part; but still the runaway is
not found. Uncle Joseph has a glow upon his countenance; Ephraim shakes
his head knowingly; little Elijah is a perfect know-nothing, and if you
look toward the house you will see Aunt Ruth’s smiling face ready to
announce that breakfast is ready.
“The nigger is not in this barn,” said the officer.
“I know he is not,” quietly remarked the Quaker.
“What were you nailing up your door for, then, as if you were afraid we
would enter?” inquired one of the kidnappers.
“I can do what I please with my own door, can’t I?” said the Friend.
The secret was out; the fugitive had gone in at the front door, and out
at the back; and the reading of the warrant, nailing up of the door,
and other preliminaries of the Quaker, was to give the fugitive time
and opportunity to escape.
It was now late in the morning, and the slave-catchers were a long way
from home, and the horses were jaded by the rapid manner in which they
had travelled. The Friends, in high glee, returned to the house for
breakfast; the officer and the kidnappers made a thorough examination
of the barn and premises, and satisfied that Jerome had gone into the
barn, but had not come out, and equally satisfied that he was out of
their reach, the owner said, “He’s gone down into the earth, and has
taken an underground railroad.”
And thus was christened that famous highway over which so many of
the oppressed sons and daughters of African descent were destined to
travel, and an account of which has been published by one of its most
faithful agents, Mr. William Still, of Philadelphia.
At a later period, Cato, servant of Dr. Gaines, was sold to Captain
Enoch Price, of St. Louis. The Captain took his slave with him on
board the steamer _Chester_, just about sailing for New Orleans. At
the latter place, the boat obtained a cargo for Cincinnati, Ohio. The
master, aware that the slave might give him the slip, while in a free
State, determined to leave the chattel at Louisville, Ky., till his
downward return. However, Mrs. Price, anxious to have the servant’s
services on the boat, questioned him with regard to the contemplated
visit to Cincinnati.
“I don’t want to go to a free State,” said Cato; “fer I knowed a
servant dat went up dar, once, an’ dey kept beggin’ him to run away; so
I druther not go dar; kase I is satisfied wid my marser, an’ don’t want
to go off, whar I’d have to take keer of mysef.”
This was said in such an earnest and off-hand manner, that it removed
all of the lady’s suspicions in regard to his attempting to escape; and
she urged her husband to take him to Ohio.
Cato wanted his freedom, but he well knew that if he expressed a
wish to go to a free State, he would never be permitted to do so. In
due season, the _Chester_ arrived at Cincinnati, where she remained
four days, discharging her cargo, and reloading for the return trip.
During the time, Cato remained at his post, attending faithfully to
his duties; no one dreaming that he had the slightest idea of leaving
the boat. However, on the day previous to the _Chester’s_ leaving
Cincinnati, Cato divulged the question to Charley, another slave, whom
he wished to accompany him.
Charley heard the proposition with surprise; and although he wanted his
freedom, his timid disposition would not allow him to make the trial.
“My master is a pretty good man, and treats me comparatively well;
and should I be caught and taken back, he would no doubt sell me to a
cotton or sugar-planter,” said Charley to Cato’s invitation. “But,”
continued he, “Captain Price is a mean man; I shall not blame you,
Cato, for running away and leaving him. By the by, I am engaged to go
to a surprise-party, to-night, and I reckon we’ll have a good time.
I’ve got a new pair of pumps to dance in, and I’ve got Jim, the cook,
to bake me a pie, and I’ll have some sandwiches, and I’m going with a
pretty gal.”
“So you won’t go away with me, to-night?” said Cato to Charley.
“No,” was the reply.
“It is true,” remarked Cato, “your marser is a better man, an’ treats
you a heap better den Captain Price does me, but, den, he may get to
gambling, an’ get broke, and den he’ll have to sell you.”
“I know that,” replied Charley; “none of us are safe as long as we are
slaves.”
It was seven o’clock at night, Cato was in the pantry, washing the
supper dishes, and contemplating his flight, the beginning of which
was soon to take place. Charley had gone up to the steward’s hall, to
get ready for the surprise, and had been away some time, which caused
uneasiness to Cato, and he determined to go up into the cabin, and
see that everything was right. Entering the cabin from the Social
Hall, Cato, in going down and passing the Captain’s room, heard a
conversation which attracted his attention, and caused him to halt at
his master’s room door.
He was not long, although the conversation was in a low tone, in
learning that the parties were his master and his fellow-servant
Charley.
“And so he is going to run away, to-night, is he?” said the Captain.
“Yes, sir,” replied Charley; “he’s been trying to get me to go with
him, and I thought it my duty to tell you.”
“Very well; I’ll take him over to Covington, Ky., put him in jail,
for the night, and when I get back to New Orleans, I will sell the
ungrateful nigger. Where is he now?” asked the Captain.
“Cato is in the pantry, sir, washing up the tea-things,” was the reply.
The moving of the chairs in the room, and what he had last heard,
satisfied Cato that the talk between his master and the treacherous
Charley was at an end, and he at once returned to the pantry
undetermined what course to pursue. He had not long been there, ere
he heard the well-known squeak of the Captain’s boots coming down
the stairs. Just then Dick, the cook’s boy, came out of the kitchen
and threw a pan full of cold meat overboard. This incident seemed to
furnish Cato with words, and he at once took advantage of the situation.
“What is dat you throw overboard dar?”
“None your business,” replied Dick, as he slammed the door behind him
and returned to the kitchen.
“You free niggers will waste everything dar is on dis boat,” continued
Cato. “It’s my duty to watch dees niggers an’ see dat dey don’t
destroy marser’s property. Now, let me see, I’ll go right off an’ tell
marser ’bout Charley, I won’t keep his secrets any longer.” And here
Cato threw aside his dish towel and started for the cabin.
Captain Price, who, during Cato’s soliloquy, was hid behind a large box
of goods, returned in haste to his room, where he was soon joined by
his dutiful servant.
In answer to the rap on the door, the Captain said “Come in.”
Cato, with downcast look, and in an obsequious manner, entered the
room, and said, “Marser, I is come to tell you somethin’ dat hangs
heavy on my mine, somethin’ dat I had ought to tole you afore dis.”
“Well,” said the master, “what is it, Cato?”
“Now, marser, you hires Charley, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, den, ser, ef Charley runs away you’ll have to pay fer him, won’t
you?”
“I think it very probable, as I brought him into a free State, and
thereby giving him an opportunity to escape. Why, is he thinking of
running away?”
“Yes, ser,” answered Cato, “he’s gwine to start to-night, an’ he’s bin
pesterin’ me all day to go wid him.”
“Do you mean to say that Charley has been trying to persuade you to run
away from me?” asked the Captain, rather sharply.
“Yes, ser, dats jess what he’s bin a doin’ all day. I axed him whar
he’s gwine to, an’ he sed he’s gwine to Canada, an’ he call you some
mighty mean names, an’ dat made me mad.”
“Why, Charley has just been here telling me that you were going to run
away to-night.”
“With apparent surprise, and opening his large eyes,” Cato exclaimed,
“Well, well, well, ef dat nigger don’t beat de debble!” And here the
negro raised his hands, and looking upward said, “Afoe God, marser, I
would’nt leave you fer dis worl’. Now, ser, jess let me tell you how
you can find out who tells de trufe. Charley has got ebry ting ready
an’ is a gwine right off. He’s got two pies, some sweetcake, some
sandwiches, bread an’ butter, an’ he’s got a pair of pumps to dance
in when he gets to Canada. An’ ef you want to kotch him in de ack of
runnin’ away, you jess wait out on de dock an’ you’ll kotch him.”
This was said in such an earnest manner, and with such protestations of
innocence, that Captain Price determined to follow Cato’s advice and
watch for Charley.
“Go see if you can find where Charley is, and come back and let me
know,” said the Captain.
Away went Cato, on his tip-toes, in the direction of the steward’s
room, where, by looking through the key-hole, he saw the treacherous
fellow-servant getting ready for the surprise party that he had engaged
the night previous to attend.
Cato returned almost breathless, and in a whisper said, “I foun’ him
ser, he’s gittin’ ready to start. He’s got a bundle of provisions tied
up all ready, ser; you’ll be shur to kotch him as he’s gwine away, ef
you go on de dock.”
Throwing his camlet cloak over his shoulders, the Captain passed out
upon the wharf, took a position behind a pile of wood, and awaited the
coming of the negro; nor did he remain long in suspense.
With lighted cigar, dressed in his best apparel, and his eatables tied
up in a towel, Charley was soon seen hastily leaving the boat.
Stepping out from his hiding-place, the Captain seized the negro by
the collar and led him back to the steamer, exclaiming, “Where are you
going, what’s that you’ve got in that bundle?”
“Only some washin’ I is takin’ out to get done,” replied the surprised
and frightened negro.
As they reached the lighted deck, “Open that bundle,” said the Captain.
Charley began to obey the command, and at the the same time to give an
explanation.
“Shut your mouth, you scoundrel,” vociferously shouted the Captain.
As the man slowly undid the parcel, and the contents began to be seen,
“There,” said the Captain, “there’s the pies, cake, sandwiches, bread
and butter that Cato told me you had put up to eat while running away.
Yes, there’s the pumps, too, that you got to dance in when you reached
Canada.”
Here the frightened Charley attempted again to explain, “I was jess
gwine to--”
“Shut your mouth, you villain; you were going to escape to Canada.”
“No, Marser Price, afoe God I was only--”
“Shut your mouth, you black rascal; you told me you were taking some
clothes to be washed, you lying scamp.”
During this scene, Cato was inside the pantry, with the door ajar,
looking out upon his master and Charley with unfeigned satisfaction.
Still holding the negro by the collar, and leading him to the opposite
side of the boat, the Captain called to Mr. Roberts, the second mate,
to bring up the small boat to take him and the “runaway” over the river.
A few moments more, and the Captain, with Charley seated by his side,
was being rowed to Covington, where the negro was safely locked up for
the night.
“A little longer,” said the Captain to the second officer, as he
returned to the boat, “a little longer and I’d a lost fifteen hundred
dollars by that boy’s running away.”
“Indeed,” responded the officer.
“Yes,” continued the Commander, “my servant Cato told me, just in time
to catch the rascal in the very act of running off.”
One of the sailors who was rowing, and who had been attentively
listening to the Captain, said, “I overheard Cato to-day, trying to
persuade Charley to go somewhere with him to-night, and the latter said
he was going to a ‘surprise party.’”
“The devil you did,” exclaimed the Captain. “Hasten up there,”
continued he, “for these niggers are a slippery set.”
As the yawl came alongside of the steamer, Captain Price leaped on deck
and went directly in search of Cato, who could nowhere be found. And
even Charley’s bundle, which he left where he had been opening it, was
gone. All search for the tricky man was in vain.
On the following morning, Charley was brought back to the boat, saying,
as they were crossing the river, “I tole de boss dat Cato was gwine to
run away, but he did’nt bleve me. Now he sees Cato’s gone.”
After the Captain had learned all that he could from Charley, the
latter’s account of his imprisonment in the lock-up caused great
merriment amongst the boat’s crew.
“But I tell you dar was de biggest rats in dat jail, eber I seed in my
life. Dey run aroun’ dar an’ make so much fuss dat I was ’fraid to set
down or lay down. I had to stan’ up all night.”
The _Chester_ was detained until in the latter part of the day, during
which time every effort was made to hunt up Cato, but without success.
When upbraided by the black servants on the boat for his treachery to
Cato, Charley’s only plea was, “I ’speck it was de debble dat made me
do it.”
Dressing himself in his warmest and best clothes, and getting some
provisions that he had prepared during the day, and also taking with
him Charley’s pies, cakes, sandwiches, and pumps, Cato left the boat
and made good his escape before his master returned from Covington.
It was during the cold winter of 1834, that the fugitive travelled by
night and laid by in the woods in the day. After a week’s journey, his
food gave out, and then came the severest of his trials, cold coupled
with hunger.
Often Cato would resolve to go to some of the farm-houses and apply for
food and shelter, but the fear of being captured and again returned
prevented him from following his inclinations. One night a pelting
rain that froze as fast as it fell, drove the fugitive into a barn,
where, creeping under the hay, he remained, sleeping sweetly while his
garments were drying upon his person.
Sounds of the voices of the farmer and his men feeding the cattle and
doing the chores, awakened the man from his slumbers, who, seeing
that it was daylight, feared he would be arrested. However, the day
passed, and the fugitive coming out at nightfall, started once more
on his weary journey, taking for his guide the North Star, and after
travelling the entire night, he again lay by, but this time in the
forest.
Three days of fasting had now forced hunger upon Cato, so that he once
more determined to seek food. Waiting till night, he came upon the
highway, and soon approached a farm-house, of the olden style, built
of logs. The sweet savor of the supper attracted the hungry man’s
attention as he neared the dwelling. For once there was no dog to
herald his coming, and he had an opportunity of viewing the interior of
the house, through the apertures that a log cabin generally presents.
As the fugitive stood with one eye gazing through the _crack_, looking
at the table, already set, and snuffing in the delicious odor from a
boiling pot, he heard the mother say,--“Take off the chicken, Sally
Ann, I guess the dumplings are done. Your father will be home in half
an hour; if he should catch that nigger and bring him along, we’ll feed
him on the cold meat and potatoes.”
With palpitating heart, Cato listened to the last sentences that fell
from the woman’s lips. Who could the “nigger” be, thought he.
Finding only the woman and her daughter in the house, the black man
had been debating in his own mind whether or not to go in and demand a
part of the contents of the kettle. However, the talk about “catching a
nigger,” settled the question at once with him.
Seizing a sheet that hung upon the clothes-line, Cato covered himself
with it; leaving open only enough to enable him to see, he rushed in,
crying at the top of his voice,--“Come to judgment! Come to judgment.”
Both women sprang from their seats, and, screaming, passed out of the
room, upsetting the table as they went. Cato seized the pot of chicken
with one hand, and a loaf of bread, that had fallen from the table,
with the other; hastily leaving the house and taking to the road, he
continued on his journey.
The fugitive, however, had gone but a short distance when he heard the
tramp of horses and the voices of men; and, fearing to meet them, he
took to the woods till they had passed by.
As he hid behind a large tree by the roadside, Cato heard distinctly:
“And what is your master’s name?”
“Peter Johnson, ser,” was the reply.
“How much do you think he will give to have you brought back?”
“Dunno, ser,” responded a voice which Cato recognized by the language
to be a negro.
It was evident that a fugitive slave had been captured, and was about
to be returned for the reward. And it was equally evident to Cato that
the slave had been caught by the owner of the pot of stewed chicken
that he then held in his hand, and he felt a thrill of gladness as he
returned to the road and pursued his journey.