The traditional history of the Negro in America, during nearly three
hundred years, is one in which the elements of pathos, humor and tragedy
are thoroughly mixed and in which the experiences encountered are of a kind
to grip the hearts and consciences of men of every race and every creed.
Just as colonial Americans resented their enforced enlistment for maritime
service under the flag of King George, so it may be assumed that with equal
vigor did the little band of Africans object to a forced expatriation from
their native wilds, even though, as it happened, they were destined to be,
in part, the builders of a great and prosperous nation and the progenitors
of a strong and forward-looking race.
There are few incidents that distinguish the bondage of the descendants of
that first boat load of involuntary African explorers, that evince, in so
large a degree, the elements alluded to, as do those which cluster about
the story of the "Edmondson Children." There were altogether fourteen sons
and daughters of Paul and Amelia who passed as devoutly pious and
respectable old folks. Paul was a freeman who hired his time in the city.
Amelia was a slave. Their little cabin, a few miles out of the city of
Washington proper, was so neat and orderly that it was regarded as a model
for masters and slaves alike for many miles around. They were thus
permitted to live together by the owners of Amelia, who realized how much
more valuable the children would be as a marketable group after some years
of such care and attention as the mother would be sure to bestow. Milly, as
she was familiarly called, reared the children, tilled the garden, and,
being especially handy with the needle, turned off many a job of sewing for
the family of her mistress. She was entirely ignorant so far as books go,
but Paul read the Bible to her when visiting his loved ones on Sunday and
what he explained she remembered and treasured up for comfort in her
moments of despair.
The older boys and girls were hired out in prominent families in the city
and by their intelligence, orderly conduct and other evidences of good
breeding came to be known far and wide as "The Edmondson Children," the
phrase being taken as descriptive of all that was excellent and desirable
in a slave. The one incurable grief of these humble parents was that in
bringing children into the world they were helping to perpetuate the
institution of slavery. The fear that any day might bring to them the cruel
pangs of separation and the terrible knowledge that their loved ones had
been condemned to the horrors of the auction block was with them always a
constant shadow, darkening each waking moment. More and ever more, they
were torn with anxiety for the future of the children and so they threw
themselves with increasing faith and dependence upon the Master of all, and
no visit of the children was so hurried or full of other matters but that a
few moments were reserved for prayer. At their departure, one after another
was clasped to the mother's breast and always this earnest admonition
followed them, "Be good children and the blessed Lord will take care of
you." Louisa and Joseph, the two youngest, were still at home when there
occurred events in which several of their older brothers and sisters took
so prominent a part and which are here to be related.
The incidents of this narrative which are reflected in its title are
contemporary with and in a measure resultant from the revolution out of
which came the establishment of the first French Republic and the expulsion
of Louis-Philippe in 1848. The citizens of the United States were
felicitating their brothers across the water upon the achievement of so
desirable a result. In Washington especially, the event was joyously
acclaimed. Public meetings were held at which representatives of the people
in both houses of Congress spoke encouragingly of the recent advance toward
universal liberty. The city was regally adorned with flags and bunting and
illumination and music everywhere. The White House was elaborately
decorated in honor of the event and its general observance, scheduled for
April 13. A procession of national dignitaries, local organizations and the
civic authorities, accompanied by several bands of music and throngs of
citizens, made its way to the open square (now Lafayette Park) opposite the
White House. Speeches were in order. Among the addresses which aroused the
large crowd to enthusiasm were those of Senator Patterson of Tennessee and
Senator Foote of Mississippi.[1] The former likened the Tree of Liberty to
the great cotton-wood tree of his section, whose seed is blown far and
wide, while the latter spoke eloquently of the universal emancipation of
man and the approaching recognition in all countries of the great
principles of equality and brotherhood.
Here and there huddled unobtrusively in groups on the fringe of the crowd
were numbers of slaves. The enthusiasm of the throng, frequently manifested
in shouts of approval, was discreetly reflected in the suppressed
excitement of the slaves, who whispered among themselves concerning the
curious and incredible expressions they had heard. Could it possibly be
that these splendid truths, this forecast of universal liberty, might
include them too? A few of the more intelligent, among whom was Samuel
Edmondson, drew together to discuss the event and were not long concluding
that the authority they had listened to could not be questioned and that
they should at once contribute their share towards so desirable a
consummation.
Coincident with this celebration there had arrived at Washington the
schooner _Pearl_ with Daniel Drayton[2] as super-cargo, Captain Sayres,
owner, and a young man, Chester English, as sailor and cook. Drayton
witnessed the great demonstration near the White House and, as might have
been expected, the sentiment that seemed to have won all Washington found a
natural and active response, for when the news of the purpose of his visit
was communicated by the woman for whose deliverance he had agreed to make
the trip, he was appealed to on behalf of others and consented to take all
who should be aboard by ten o'clock that night.
The Edmondson boys actively promoted the scheme and, rightly in so just a
cause, abused the privileges which their integrity and unusual intelligence
had won for them. The news was passed to an aggregate of 77 persons, all of
whom faithfully appeared and were safely stowed away between decks before
midnight. Samuel sought his sisters Emily and Mary at their places of
employment and acquainted them with his purpose. They at first hesitated on
account of the necessity of leaving without seeing their mother, but were
soon persuaded that it was an opportunity they should not be willing to
neglect.
The _Pearl_ cast free from her moorings shortly after midnight Saturday and
silently, with no sign of life aboard, save running lights fore and aft,
crept out to mid-stream and made a course towards the lower Potomac. The
condition that obtained on Sunday morning after the discovery of the
absence of so many slaves from their usual duties may be accurately
described as approaching a panic. Had the evidences of a dreadful plague
become as suddenly manifest, the community could not have experienced a
greater sense of horror or for the moment been more thoroughly paralyzed. A
hundred or more families were affected through the action of these seventy
and seven slaves and the stern proofs of their flight were many times
multiplied.
The action of the masters in this emergency is eloquent testimony that the
fine orations of two days before concerning the spread of liberty and
universal brotherhood had been nothing more than so many meaningless
conversations. When confronted on Sunday morning with the fact that theirs
and their neighbors' slaves, in so great numbers, had disappeared during
the night, the realization of the difference between popular enthusiasm for
a sentiment and a real sacrifice for a principle was borne in upon them and
they found that while they enjoyed the former they were not at all ready to
espouse the latter.
As a result the day was but little advanced when an excited cavalcade of
the masters, after scouring every portion of the city, broke for the open
country to the North, designing to cover each of the roads leading from the
city. They had not reached the District limits, however, when they whirled
about and galloped furiously in the opposite direction and never checked
rein, until panting and foaming, their horses were brought up at the
wharves. A vessel was chartered and steamed away almost immediately on its
mission to capture the party of runaway slaves.
Fate, which occasionally plays such strange and cruel tricks in the lives
of men, presented in this instance a Machiavellian combination of opposing
forces, that was disastrous to the enterprise of the fugitives. Judson
Diggs,[3] one of their own people, a man who in all reason might have been
expected to sympathize with their effort, took upon himself the role of
Judas. Judson was a drayman and had hauled some packages to the wharf for
one of the slaves, who was without funds to pay the charge, and although he
was solemnly promised that the money should be sent him, he proceeded at
once to wreak vengeance through a betrayal of the entire party.
Even so, it would seem they might have had an excellent chance to escape,
but for the adverse winds and tides which set against them towards the
close of Sunday. They were approaching the open waters of the Bay and the
little vessel was already pitching and tossing as from the lashing of a
gale. The captain decided that it was the part of prudence to remain within
the more quiet waters of the Potomac for the night and make the open sea by
light of day. Under these circumstances they put into Cornfield Harbor and
here in the quiet hours before midnight the pursuing masters found them.
It is difficult to realize the consternation felt by the fugitives when the
noise of tramping feet and the voices of angry men broke upon their ears.
They seemed to realize at once that they were lost and many gave themselves
up to shrieks and tears until wise counsel prevailed. Captain Drayton and
his mate were immediately the storm center of the infuriated masters, many
of whom were loud in the demand that summary vengeance be wreaked upon them
and that these two at least should be hung from the yard arm. It was easily
possible that this demand might have been acceded to, had not a diversion
been caused by some of the others who were anxious to locate the slaves.
To satisfy themselves as to their safety they proceeded to break open the
hatchways when, so suddenly as to create something of a panic, Richard
Edmondson bounded on deck and in a voice of suppressed excitement
exclaimed, "Do yourselves no harm, gentlemen, for we are all here!" Richard
was young, muscular and of splendid proportions and seeing him thus by the
poor light of smoky lanterns, with flashing eyes and swinging arms, leaping
into their midst with an unknown number of others following, some of the
masters experienced a feeling of terror, and dropping their guns, scurried
away to safety among the dark shadows of the vessel.
By the time the others reached the deck, the shock of Richard's strange
appearance had somewhat died away and when Samuel, who was one of the last,
appeared, a sharp blow which, but for a sudden lurch of the vessel, would
have laid him low fell on one side of his head. Drayton and Sayres,[4] who
were witnesses of this incident, were horrified to think that, having not
so much as a penknife with which to defend themselves, these poor creatures
might be brutally murdered, and, notwithstanding the serious aspect of
their own fortunes,[5] protested vigorously against such violence. But for
this timely interference, there is but little doubt that some of these poor
people would have been cruelly if not fatally injured.
The true condition of affairs, however, was speedily recognized and seeing
there was nothing to fear in the way of resistance, order was soon evolved
out of the general chaos and then came the decision to make an early start
on the return trip. Among the slaves, the reaction from a feeling of hope
and joyous anticipation of the delights of freedom was terrible indeed. The
bitter gall and wormwood of failure was the sad and gloomy portion of these
seventy and seven souls. Among them then there were but few who were not
completely crushed, their minds a seething torrent, in which regret, misery
and despair made battle for the mastery. Children weeping and wailing clung
to the skirts of their elders. The women with shrieks, groans and tearful
lamentations deplored their sad fate, while the men, securely chained
wrist and wrist together, stood with heads dropped forward, too dazed and
wretched for aught but to turn their stony gaze within upon the wild
anguish of their aching hearts.
Their arrival at Washington was signalized by a demonstration vastly
different but little short of that which had taken place a few days before.
The wharves were alive with an eager and excited throng all intent upon a
view of the miserable folks who had been guilty of so ungrateful an effort.
So disorderly was the mob that the debarkation was for some time delayed.
This was finally accomplished through the strenuous efforts of the entire
constabulary of the city.
The utmost watchfulness and care was, however, unavailing to prevent
assaults. The most serious instance of this kind was the act of an Irish
ruffian, who so far forgot the traditions and sufferings of his own people
as to cast himself upon Drayton with a huge dirk and cut off a piece of his
ear.[6] For a few moments all the horrors incident to riot and bloodshed
were in evidence. The air was filled with the screams of terrorized women
and children and the curses and threats of vengeful men. The whole was a
struggling, swaying mass, which for a season had been swept beyond itself
by brutish passion.
Numerous arrests were made and in due course the march to the jail was
begun with the accompanying crowd hurling taunts and jeers at every step.
While they were proceeding thus, an onlooker said to Emily, "Aren't you
ashamed to run away and make all this trouble for everybody?" To this she
replied, "No sir, we are not and if we had to go through it again, we'd do
the same thing."
The controversy that was precipitated through the attempted escape, between
the advance guard of abolition and the defenders of slavery, was most
bitter and violent. The storm broke furiously about the offices of _The
National Era_. In Congress, Mr. Giddings of Ohio moved an "inquiry into
the cause of the detention at the District jail of persons merely for
attempting to vindicate their inalienable rights." Senator Hale of New
Hampshire moved a resolution of "inquiry into the necessity for additional
laws for the protection of property in the District."[7] A committee
consisting of such notable characters as the Channings, Samuel May, Samuel
Howe, Richard Hildreth, Samuel Sewell and Robert Morris, Jr., was formed at
Boston to furnish aid and defense for Drayton. These men were empowered to
employ counsel and collect money. Horace Mann, William H. Seward, Salmon P.
Chase and Fessenden of Maine volunteered to serve gratuitously.[8]
Other philanthropists directed their attention to the liberation of these
slaves. The Edmondsons were owned by an estate. The administrator, who was
approached by John Brent,[9] the husband of the oldest sister of the
children, agreed to give their friends an opportunity to effect their
purchase, as he was unwilling to run any further risk by keeping them. He
failed to keep this promise and when Mr. Brent went to see them the next
day he was informed that they had been sold to Bruin and Hill, the
slave-dealers of Alexandria and Baltimore, and had been sent to the former
city. A cash sum of $4,500 had been accepted for the six children and when
taxed with the failure to keep his promise, he simply said he was unwilling
to take any further risk with them. Bruin also refused to listen to any
proposals, saying he had long had his eyes on the family and could get
twice what he paid for them in the New Orleans market.
They were first taken to the slave pens at Alexandria, where they remained
nearly a month. Here the girls were required to do the washing for a dozen
or more men with the assistance of their brothers and were at length put
aboard a steamboat and taken to Baltimore where they remained three weeks.
Through the exertions of friends at Washington, $900 was given towards
their freedom by a grandson of John Jacob Astor, and this was appropriated
towards the ransom of Richard, as his wife and children were said to be ill
and suffering at Washington. The money arrived on the morning they were to
sail for New Orleans but they had all been put aboard the brig _Union_,
which was ready to sail, and the trader refused to allow Richard to be
taken off. The voyage to New Orleans covered a period of seven days, during
which much discomfort and suffering were experienced. There were eleven
women in the party, all of whom were forced to live in one small apartment,
and the men numbering thirty-five or forty, in another not much larger.
Most of them being unaccustomed to travel by water were afflicted with all
the horrors of sea-sickness. Emily's suffering from this cause was most
pitiable and so serious was her condition at one time that the boys feared
she would die. The brothers, however, as in all circumstances, were very
kind and would tenderly carry her out on deck whenever the heat in their
close quarters became too oppressive and would buy little comforts that
were in their reach and minister in all possible ways to her relief.
In due course they arrived at New Orleans and were immediately initiated
into the horrors of a Georgia pen. The girls were required to spend much
time in the show room, where purchasers came to examine them carefully with
a view to buying them. On one occasion a youthful dandy had applied for a
young person whom he wished to install as housekeeper and the trader
decided that Emily would just about meet the requirements, but when he
called her she was found to be indulging in a fit of weeping. The youth,
therefore, refused to consider her, saying that he had no room for the
snuffles in his house. The loss of this transaction so incensed the
trader, who said he had been offered $1,500 for the proper person, that he
slapped Emily's face and threatened to send her to the calaboose, if he
found her crying again.
Here also the boys had their hair closely cropped and their clothes, which
were of good material, exchanged for suits of blue-jeans. Appearing thus,
they were daily exhibited on the porch for sale. Richard, who was in
reality free, as his purchase money was on deposit in Baltimore, was
allowed to come and go at will and early bent his energies toward the
discovery of their elder brother Hamilton,[10] who was living somewhere in
the city. His quest was soon rewarded with success and one day to the
delight of his sisters and brothers he brought him to see them. Hamilton
had never seen Emily, as he had been sold away from his parents before her
birth, but his joy, though mingled with sorrow, could not be suppressed. He
was soon busy with plans for the increase of their meager comforts. Finding
upon inquiry that Hamilton was thoroughly responsible, the trader consented
to the girls' spending their nights at their brother's home. He was also at
pains to secure good homes for the unfortunate group and was successful in
inducing a wealthy Englishman to purchase his brother Samuel.
In consequence of an epidemic of yellow fever, which increased in virulence
from day to day, the traders decided to bring the slaves North without
further delay and so a few days later they were reembarked on the brig
_Union_ with Baltimore as their destination. Samuel was the only one of the
brothers and sisters left behind. As he was pleasently situated with humane
and kindly owners, the parting from him was not so sad as otherwise it
might have been. Sixteen days were required for the trip and upon their
arrival they were again placed in the same old prison. Richard was almost
immediately freed and, in company with a Mr. Bigelow, of Washington, was
enabled to rejoin his wife and children.
Paul Edmondson visited his children at the Baltimore jail in company with
their sister.[11] He had been encouraged to hope that in some way a fund
might be raised for their ransom, but it was not until some weeks later,
after they had been returned through Washington and again placed in their
old slave quarters at Alexandria, that an understanding as to terms could
be had with Bruin and Hill. They finally agreed to accept $2,250 if the
amount was raised within a certain time and gave Paul a signed statement of
the terms, which might be used as his credentials in the matter of
soliciting assistance. Armed with this document, he arrived at New York and
found his way to the Anti-Slavery office, where the price demanded was
considered so exorbitant that but little encouragement was given him. From
here he went to the home of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, where he arrived
foot-sore and weary. After ringing the bell, he sat upon the doorstep
weeping. Here Mr. Beecher found him and, taking him into his library,
inquired his story.
As a result there followed a public meeting in Mr. Beecher's Brooklyn
church, at which he pleaded passionately as if for his own children, while
other clergymen spoke with equal interest and feeling. The money was
raised, an agent appointed to consummate the ransom of the children, and
Paul, with a sense of happiness and relief to which he had long been a
stranger, started with the good news on his way homeward.
Meanwhile the girls were torn with doubt and anxiety as to the success of
their father's mission. Several weeks had elapsed and the traders were
again getting together a coffle of slaves for shipment to the slave market,
this time to that in South Carolina. The girls, too, had been ordered to
be in readiness and the evening before had broken down in tears when
Bruin's young daughter, who was a favorite with the girls, sought them out
and pleaded with them not to go. Emily told her to persuade her father not
to send them and so she did, while clinging around his neck until he had
not the heart to refuse.
A day or two later, while looking from their window, they caught sight of
their father and ran into his arms shouting and crying. So great was their
joy that they did not notice their father's companion, a Mr. Chaplin, the
agent appointed at the New York meeting to take charge of the details of
their ransom. These were soon completed, their free papers signed and the
money paid over. Bruin, too, it is said, was pleased with the joy and
happiness in evidence on every hand and upon bidding the girls good-bye
gave each a five dollar gold piece.
Upon their arrival at Washington they were taken in a carriage to their
sister's home, whence the news of their deliverance seemed to have
penetrated to every corner of the neighborhood with the result that it was
far into the night before the last greetings and congratulations had been
received and they were permitted, in the seclusion of the family circle, to
kneel with their parents in prayer and thanksgiving.[12]
In the meantime what had become of Samuel? When Hamilton Edmondson was
seeking to locate his sisters and brothers in desirable homes in New
Orleans, he first saw Mr. Horace Cammack, a prosperous cotton merchant,
whose friendship and respect he had long since won and who, upon the
further representation of Samuel's proficiency as a butler, agreed to
purchase him. In this wise, it came to pass that Samuel was duly installed
as upper houseman in the Cammack home. Although situated more happily than
most slaves he was fully determined, as ever, that the world should one day
know and respect him as a free man, and patiently waited and watched for
the opportunity to accomplish his purpose.
Meanwhile another element had thrust itself into the equation and must be
reckoned with in the solution of the problem of his after life. It happened
that Mrs. Cammack, a lady of much beauty and refinement of manner, had in
her employ as maid, a young girl of not more than eighteen years named
Delia Taylor. She was tall, graceful and winsome, of the clear mulatto
type, and through long service in close contact with her mistress, had
acquired that refinement and culture, which elicit the admiration and
delight of those in like station and inspire a feeling much akin to
reverence in those more lowly placed. With some difficulty Samuel
approached her with a proposal and, although at first refused, finally won
her as his bride.
Matters now moved along on pleasant lines for Samuel and Delia during
several months, but with the advent of Master Tom, Cammack's son who had
been away to college, there was encountered an element of discord, which
was for a while to destroy their happiness. This young gentleman took a
violent dislike to Samuel from the very first meal the latter served him.
They finally clashed and Samuel had to run away. His master, however, sent
his would-be-oppressor with the rest of the family to the country and
ordered Samuel to return home. This he did and immediately entered upon his
duties.
The year following, Mr. Cammack went to Europe on cotton business and not
long after his arrival was killed in a violent storm while yachting with
friends off the coast of Norway. After this event, affairs in the life of
Samuel gradually approached a crisis, while in the meantime an additional
responsibility had been added to himself and Delia in the person of a
little boy, whom they named David.
Master Tom, being now the head of the house, left little room for doubt as
to the authority he had inherited and proceeded to evince the same in no
uncertain way, especially towards those against whom he held a grievance.
To get rid of Samuel was first in order. This was the easiest possible
matter, for there was not a wealthy family on the visiting list of the
Cammacks who would not, even at some sacrifice, make a place for him in
their service. Through the close intimacy of Mrs. Cammack and Mrs. Slidell,
the latter was given the refusal and Samuel told to go around and see his
future Mistress. To her he expressed a desire to serve in her employ but he
was now determined more than ever that his next master should be himself.
Accordingly he proceeded directly to a friend from whom he purchased a set
of free-papers, which had been made out and sold him by a white man. These
required that he should start immediately up the river but upon a full
consideration of the matter he decided that the risks were too great in
that direction. The problem was a serious one. An error of judgment, a step
in the wrong direction, would not only be a serious, if not fatal blow to
his hopes, but might lead to untold hardships to others most dear to him.
Somewhat irresolutely he turned his steps towards the river front, gazing
with longing eyes at the stretch of water, the many ships in harbor, some
entering, others steaming away or being towed out to open water. The
thought that in this direction, beyond the wide seas, lay his refuge and
ultimate hope came to him with so much force as to cause him to reel like
one on whom a severe blow had been dealt. He stood for some time, seemingly
bewildered, in the din and noise of the wharf, noting abstractedly the many
bales of cotton, as truck after truck-load was rushed aboard an outward
bound steamer. The bales seemed to fascinate him completely. A stevedore
yelled at him to move out of the way and aroused him into action, but in
that interval an idea which seemed to offer a possible means of escape had
been evolved. He would impersonate a merchant from the West Indies in
search of a missing bale of goods and endeavor to get passage to the
Islands, where he well knew the flag of free England was abundant guarantee
for his protection. The main thought seemed a happy one, for he soon found
a merchantman that was to clear that night for Jamaica. It was not a
passenger vessel, but the captain, a good-natured Briton, said that he had
an extra bunk in the cabin and if the gentleman did not mind roughing it,
he would be glad to have his company. The first step towards his freedom
was successfully taken, the money paid down for the passage and with the
injunction from the captain to be aboard by nine o'clock he returned
ashore.
Only a few hours now remained to him, before a long, perhaps a lasting
separation from his dear wife and baby, and thinking to pass these with
them he hurried thence by the most unfrequented route, but had hardly
crossed the threshold when Delia, weeping bitterly, implored him to make
good his escape, as Master Tom had already sent the officers to look for
him. With a last, fond embrace and a tear, which, falling upon that cradled
babe, meant present sorrow, but no less future hope, the husband and father
made his way under the friendly shadows of the night, back to the waiting
ship.
When the officer from the custom house came aboard to inspect the ship's
papers Samuel was resting, apparently without concern, in the upper bunk of
the little cabin.
The captain seated himself at the center table, opposite the officer, and
spread the papers before him. "Heigho, I see you have a passenger this
trip," and then read from the sheet: "Samuel Edmondson, Jamaica, W.I.,
thirty years old. General Merchant."
"Yes," said the captain as he concluded. "Mr. Edmondson asked for passage
at the last moment and as he was alone and we had a bunk not in service, I
thought I'd take him along. He has a valuable bale of goods astray,
probably at Jamaica, and is anxious to return and look it up."
"Well I hope he may find it. Where is he? let's have a look at him."
"Mr. Edmondson, will you come this way a moment?" called the captain.
As may be imagined the subject of this conversation had been listening
intently and now when it was demanded that he present himself, he murmured
a fervent "God help me" and jumped nimbly to the deck.
"This is my passenger," said the Captain, and to Samuel he said: "The
customs officer simply wished to see you, Mr. Edmondson."
Samuel bowed and stood at ease, resting one hand upon the table and in this
attitude without the quiver of an eyelash or the flinching of a muscle,
bore the searching look of the officer, which rested first upon his face
and then upon his hand. The flush of excitement still mounting his cheek
and brow, gave a bronzed swarthiness and decidedly un-American cast to his
rich brown color, while his features, clean-cut and but slightly of the
Negro type, with hands well shaped and nails quite clean, were a
combination of conditions rarely met in the average slave. The first glance
of suspicion was almost immediately lost to view in the smile of friendly
greeting with which the officer's hand was extended. "I hope you may
recover your goods," were the words he said and, rising, added: "I must be
off." The captain had meanwhile placed his liquor chest on the table and,
in a glass of good old Jamaica rum, a hearty "_Bon voyage_" and responsive
"_Good wishes_" were exchanged.
The subsequent story of Samuel, interesting and adventurous as it is,
scarcely comes within the scope of the purpose of this article. After a
brief stay at Jamaica, Samuel sailed before the mast on an English schooner
carrying a cargo of dye-wood to Liverpool. Two years were passed here in
the service of a wealthy merchant, whom he had served while a guest of his
former master in New Orleans. During the third year he was joined by his
wife and boy who had been liberated by their mistress. Subsequently the
family took passage for Australia under the protection of a relative of his
Liverpool employer, who was returning to extensive mining and sheep-raising
interests near the rapidly growing city of Melbourne.[13]