To Wm. Still:--The plan is to go to Canada, on the Wabash, opposite
Detroit. There are four routes to Canada. One through Illinois,
commencing above and below Alton; one through to North Indiana, and the
Cincinnati route, being the largest route in the United States.
I intended to have gone through Pennsylvania, but the risk going up the
Ohio river has caused me to go to Canada. Steamboat traveling is
universally condemned, though many go in boats, consequently many get
lost. Going in a skiff is new, and is approved of in my case. After I
arrive at the mouth of the Tennessee river, I will go up the Ohio
seventy-five miles, to the mouth of the Wabash, then up the Wabash,
forty-four miles to New Harmony, where I shall go ashore by night, and
go thirteen miles east, to Charles Grier, a farmer, (colored man), who
will entertain us, and next night convey us sixteen miles to David
Stormon, near Princeton, who will take the command, and I be released.
David Stormon estimates the expenses from his house to Canada, at forty
dollars, without which, no sure protection will be given. They might be
instructed concerning the course, and beg their way through without
money. If you wish to do what should be done, you will send me fifty
dollars, in a letter, to Princeton, Gibson county, Inda., so as to
arrive there by the 8th of March. Eight days should be estimated for a
letter to arrive from Philadelphia.
The money to be State Bank of Ohio, or State Bank, or Northern Bank of
Kentucky, or any other Eastern bank. Send no notes larger than twenty
dollars.
Levi Coffin had no money for me. I paid twenty dollars for the skiff. No
money to get back to Philadelphia. It was not understood that I would
have to be at any expense seeking aid.
One half of my time has been used in trying to find persons to assist,
when I may arrive on the Ohio river, in which I have failed, except
Stormon.
Having no letter of introduction to Stormon from any source, on which I
could fully rely, I traveled two hundred miles around, to find out his
stability. I have found many Abolitionists, nearly all who have made
propositions, which themselves would not comply with, and nobody else
would. Already I have traveled over three thousand miles. Two thousand
and four hundred by steamboat, two hundred by railroad, one hundred by
stage, four hundred on foot, forty-eight in a skiff.
I have yet five hundred miles to go to the plantation, to commence
operations. I have been two weeks on the decks of steamboats, three
nights out, two of which I got perfectly wet. If I had had paper money,
as McKim desired, it would have been destroyed. I have not been
entertained gratis at any place except Stormon's. I had one hundred and
twenty-six dollars when I left Philadelphia, one hundred from you,
twenty-six mine.
Telegraphed to station at Evansville, thirty-three miles from Stormon's,
and at Vinclure's, twenty-five miles from Stormon's. The Wabash route is
considered the safest route. No one has ever been lost from Stormon's to
Canada. Some have been lost between Stormon's and the Ohio. The wolves
have never suspected Stormon. Your asking aid in money for a case
properly belonging east of Ohio, is detested. If you have sent money to
Cincinnati, you should recall it. I will have no opportunity to use it.
Seth Concklin, Princeton, Gibson county, Ind.
P.S. First of April, will be about the time Peter's family will arrive
opposite Detroit. You should inform yourself how to find them there. I
may have no opportunity.
I will look promptly for your letter at Princeton, till the 10th of
March, and longer if there should have been any delay by the mails.
In March, as contemplated, Concklin arrived in Indiana, at the place
designated, with Peter's wife and three children, and sent a thrilling
letter to the writer, portraying in the most vivid light his adventurous
flight from the hour they left Alabama until their arrival in Indiana.
In this report he stated, that instead of starting early in the morning,
owing to some unforeseen delay on the part of the family, they did not
reach the designated place till towards day, which greatly exposed them
in passing a certain town which he had hoped to avoid.
But as his brave heart was bent on prosecuting his journey without
further delay, he concluded to start at all hazards, notwithstanding the
dangers he apprehended from passing said town by daylight. For safety he
endeavored to hide his freight by having them all lie flat down on the
bottom of the skiff; covered them with blankets, concealing them from
the effulgent beams of the early morning sun, or rather from the
"Christian Wolves" who might perchance espy him from the shore in
passing the town.
The wind blew fearfully. Concklin was rowing heroically when loud voices
from the shore hailed him, but he was utterly deaf to the sound.
Immediately one or two guns were fired in the direction of the skiff,
but he heeded not this significant call; consequently here ended this
difficulty. He supposed, as the wind was blowing so hard, those on shore
who hailed him must have concluded that he did not hear them and that he
meant no disrespect in treating them with seeming indifference. Whilst
many straits and great dangers had to be passed, this was the greatest
before reaching their destination.
But suffice it to say that the glad tidings which this letter contained
filled the breast of Peter with unutterable delight and his friends and
relations with wonder beyond degree.[A] No fond wife had ever waited
with more longing desire for the return of her husband than Peter had
for this blessed news. All doubts had disappeared, and a well grounded
hope was cherished that within a few short days Peter and his fond wife
and children would be reunited in Freedom on the Canada side, and that
Concklin and the friends would be rejoicing with joy unspeakable over
this great triumph. But alas, before the few days had expired the
subjoined brief paragraph of news was discovered in the morning Ledger.
[Footnote A: In some unaccountable manner this the last letter Concklin
ever penned, perhaps, has been unfortunately lost.]
RUNAWAY NEGROES CAUGHT.--At Vincennes, Indiana, on Saturday
last, a white man and four negroes were arrested. The negroes
belong to B. McKiernon, of South Florence, Alabama, and the man
who was running them off calls himself John H. Miller. The
prisoners were taken charge of by the Marshall of
Evansville.--_April 9th_.
How suddenly these sad tidings turned into mourning and gloom the hope
and joy of Peter and his relatives no pen could possibly describe; at
least the writer will not attempt it here, but will at once introduce a
witness who met the noble Concklin and the panting fugitives in Indiana
and proffered them sympathy and advice. And it may safely be said from a
truer and more devoted friend of the slave they could not have received
counsel.
EVANSVILLE, INDIANA, MARCH 31st, 1851.
WM. STILL: _Dear Sir_ ,--On last Tuesday I mailed a letter to
you, written by Seth Concklin. I presume you have received that
letter. It gave an account of his rescue of the family of your
brother. If that is the last news you have had from them, I have
very painful intelligence for you. They passed on from near
Princeton, where I saw them and had a lengthy interview with
them, up north, I think twenty-three miles above Vincennes,
Ind., where they were seized by a party of men, and lodged in
jail. Telegraphic dispatches were sent all through the South. I
have since learned that the Marshall of Evansville received a
dispatch from Tuscumbia, to look out for them. By some means, he
and the master, so says report, went to Vincennes and claimed
the fugitives, chained Mr. Concklin and hurried all off. Mr.
Concklin wrote to Mr. David Stormon, Princeton, as soon as he
was cast into prison, to find bail. So soon as we got the letter
and could get off, two of us were about setting off to render
all possible aid, when we were told they all had passed, a few
hours before, through Princeton, Mr. Concklin in chains. What
kind of process was had, if any, I know not. I immediately came
down to this place, and learned that they had been put on a boat
at 3 P.M. I did not arrive until 6. Now all hopes of their
recovery are gone. No case ever so enlisted my sympathies. I had
seen Mr. Concklin in Cincinnati. I had given him aid and
counsel. I happened to see them after they landed in Indiana. I
heard Peter and Levin tell their tale of suffering, shed tears
of sorrow for them all; but now, since they have fallen a prey
to the unmerciful blood-hounds of this state, and have again
been dragged back to unrelenting bondage, I am entirely
unmanned. And poor Concklin! I fear for him. When he is dragged
back to Alabama, I fear they will go far beyond the utmost rigor
of the law, and vent their savage cruelty upon him. It is with
pain I have to communicate these things. But you may not hear
them from him. I could not get to see him or them, as Vincennes
is about thirty miles from Princeton, where I was when I heard
of the capture.
I take pleasure in stating that, according to the letter he
(Concklin) wrote to Mr. D. Stewart, Mr. Concklin did not abandon
them, but risked his own liberty to save them. He was not with
them when they were taken; but went afterwards to take them out
of jail upon a writ of Habeas Corpus, when they seized him too
and lodged him in prison.
I write in much haste. If I can learn any more facts of
importance, I may write you. If you desire to hear from me
again, or if you should learn any thing specific from Mr.
Concklin, be pleased to write me at Cincinnati, where I expect
to be in a short time. If curious to know your correspondent, I
may say I was formerly Editor of the "New Concord Free Press,"
Ohio. I only add that every case of this kind only tends to make
me abhor my (no!) _this_ country more and more. It is the
Devil's Government, and God will destroy it.
Yours for the slave, N.R. JOHNSTON.
P.S. I broke open this letter to write you some more. The
foregoing pages were written at night. I expected to mail it
next morning before leaving Evansville; but the boat for which I
was waiting came down about three in the morning; so I had to
hurry on board, bringing the letter along. As it now is I am not
sorry, for coming down, on my way to St. Louis, as far as
Paducah, there I learned from a colored man at the wharf that,
that same day, in the morning, the master and the family of
fugitives arrived off the boat, and had then gone on their
journey to Tuscumbia, but that the "white man" (Mr. Concklin)
had "got away from them," about twelve miles up the river. It
seems he got off the boat some way, near or at Smithland, Ky., a
town at the mouth of the Cumberland River. I presume the report
is true, and hope he will finally escape, though I was also told
that they were in pursuit of him. Would that the others had also
escaped. Peter and Levin could have done so, I think, if they
had had resolution. One of them rode a horse, he not tied
either, behind the coach in which the others were. He followed
apparently "contented and happy." From report, they told their
master, and even their pursuers, before the master came, that
Concklin had decoyed them away, they coming unwillingly. I write
on a very unsteady boat.
Yours, N.R. JOHNSTON.
A report found its way into the papers to the effect that "Miller," the
white man arrested in connection with the capture of the family, was
found drowned, with his hands and feet in chains and his skull
fractured. It proved, as his friends feared, to be Seth Concklin. And in
irons, upon the river bank, there is no doubt he was buried.
In this dreadful hour one sad duty still remained to be performed. Up to
this moment the two sisters were totally ignorant of their brother's
whereabouts. Not the first whisper of his death had reached them. But
they must now be made acquainted with all the facts in the case.
Accordingly an interview was arranged for a meeting, and the duty of
conveying this painful intelligence to one of the sisters, Mrs. Supplee,
devolved upon Mr. McKim. And most tenderly and considerately did he
perform his mournful task.
Although a woman of nerve, and a true friend to the slave, an earnest
worker and a liberal giver in the Female Anti-Slavery Society, for a
time she was overwhelmed by the intelligence of her brother's death. As
soon as possible, however, through very great effort, she controlled her
emotions, and calmly expressed herself as being fully resigned to the
awful event. Not a word of complaint had she to make because she had not
been apprised of his movements; but said repeatedly, that, had she known
ever so much of his intentions, she would have been totally powerless in
opposing him if she had felt so disposed, and as an illustration of the
true character of the man, from his boyhood up to the day he died for
his fellow-man, she related his eventful career, and recalled a number
of instances of his heroic and daring deeds for others, sacrificing his
time and often periling his life in the cause of those who he considered
were suffering gross wrongs and oppression. Hence, she concluded, that
it was only natural for him in this case to have taken the steps he did.
Now and then overflowing tears would obstruct this deeply thrilling and
most remarkable story she was telling of her brother, but her memory
seemed quickened by the sadness of the occasion, and she was enabled to
recall vividly the chief events connected with his past history. Thus
his agency in this movement, which cost him his life, could readily
enough be accounted for, and the individuals who listened attentively to
the story were prepared to fully appreciate his character, for, prior to
offering his services in this mission, he had been a stranger to them.
The following extract, taken from a letter of a subsequent date, in
addition to the above letter, throws still further light upon the
heart-rending affair, and shows Mr. Johnston's deep sympathy with the
sufferers and the oppressed generally--