MOUNTED on a fast horse, with the Quaker's son for a guide, Jerome
pressed forward while Uncle Joseph was detaining the slave-catchers at
the barn-door, through which the fugitive had just escaped. When out of
present danger, fearing that suspicion might be aroused if he continued
on the road in open day, Jerome buried himself in a thick, dark forest
until nightfall. With a yearning heart, he saw the splendor of the
setting sun lingering on the hills, as if loath to fade away and be lost
in the more sombre hues of twilight, which, rising from the east, was
slowly stealing over the expanse of heaven, bearing silence and repose,
which should cover his flight from a neighborhood to him so full of
dangers.
Wearily and alone, with nothing but the hope of safety before him to
cheer him on his way, the poor fugitive urged his tired and trembling
limbs forward for several nights. The new suit of clothes with which he
had provided himself when he made his escape from his captors, and the
twenty dollars which the young Quaker had slipped into his hand, when
bidding him “Fare thee well,” would enable him to appear genteelly as
soon as he dared to travel by daylight, and would thus facilitate his
progress toward freedom.
It was late in the evening when the fugitive slave arrived at a small
town on the banks of Lake Erie, where he was to remain over night. How
strange were his feelings! While his heart throbbed for that freedom and
safety which Canada alone could furnish to the whip-scarred slave, on
the American continent, his thoughts were with Clotelle. Was she still
in prison, and if so, what would be her punishment for aiding him to
escape from prison? Would he ever behold her again? These were the
thoughts that followed him to his pillow, haunted him in his dreams, and
awakened him from his slumbers.
The alarm of fire aroused the inmates of the hotel in which Jerome had
sought shelter for the night from the deep sleep into which they had
fallen. The whole village was buried in slumber, and the building was
half consumed before the frightened inhabitants had reached the scene of
the conflagration. The wind was high, and the burning embers were wafted
like so many rockets through the sky. The whole town was lighted up, and
the cries of women and children in the streets made the scene a terrific
one. Jerome heard the alarm, and hastily dressing himself, he went forth
and hastened toward the burning building.
“There,--there in that room in the second story, is my child!” exclaimed
a woman, wringing her hands, and imploring some one to go to the rescue
of her little one.
The broad sheets of fire were flying in the direction of the chamber
in which the child was sleeping, and all hope of its being saved seemed
gone. Occasionally the wind would life the pall of smoke, and show that
the work of destruction was not yet complete. At last a long ladder was
brought, and one end placed under the window of the room. A moment more
and a bystander mounted the ladder and ascended in haste to the window.
The smoke met him as he raised the sash, and he cried out, “All is
lost!” and returned to the ground without entering the room.
Another sweep of the wind showed that the destroying element had not yet
made its final visit to that part of the doomed building. The mother,
seeing that all hope of again meeting her child in this world was gone,
wrung her hands and seemed inconsolable with grief.
At this juncture, a man was seen to mount the ladder, and ascend with
great rapidity. All eyes were instantly turned to the figure of this
unknown individual as it disappeared in the cloud of smoke escaping from
the window. Those who a moment before had been removing furniture, as
well as the idlers who had congregated at the ringing of the bells,
assembled at the foot of the ladder, and awaited with breathless silence
the reappearance of the stranger, who, regardless of his own safety, had
thus risked his life to save another's. Three cheers broke the stillness
that had fallen on the company, as the brave man was seen coming through
the window and slowly descending to the ground holding under one arm the
inanimate form of the child. Another cheer and then another, made the
welkin ring, as the stranger, with hair burned and eyebrows closely
singed, fainted at the foot of the ladder. But the child was saved.
The stranger was Jerome. As soon as he revived, he shrunk from every
eye, as if he feared they would take from him the freedom which he had
gone through so much to obtain.
The next day, the fugitive took a vessel, and the following morning
found himself standing on the free soil of Canada. As his foot pressed
the shore, he threw himself upon his face, kissed the earth, and
exclaimed, “O God! I thank thee that I am a free man.”