a letter of recommendation given to me, which I was to present to a Mr.
Gibbs, of New York City, on my arrival there, enroute for Boston, Mass.
He was a worker in the Under Ground Railroad scheme, and was a colored
man. We left Philadelphia by boat, and had a pleasant sail to New York.
When we arrived, we did not meet Mr. Gibbs as we anticipated. He was
late in getting to the boat. A hack driver came to me and said he worked
for Mr. Gibbs. Being an entire stranger in that part of the country, and
to the customs of the people, I was easily deluded. Depending on the
truthfulness of the hackman, I handed my wife into the hack, put in my
choice bundles, and then got in myself, leaving the driver to get the
trunk and drive off. But while he was getting the trunk, Mr. Gibbs came
and told us we were in the wrong hack, and to get out, to which the
hackman objected. After considerable word wrangling, the driver and two
other men jumped on Mr. Gibbs, and beat him unmercifully. During the
contest I got out of the hack, removing my wife and bundles. The result
was that the three hackmen were arrested and put in the lockup. Mr.
Gibbs was beaten so badly that he had to be carried to his home. This
was one of the unfortunate scenes that caused regret to fill my bosom,
as it was on my account that a fellow-man, one of my own race, a helper
to the poor tortured slave had been so cruelly handled. Another colored
man took Mr. Gibbs’ hack, and drove us to Bonaventure Street where we
remained all night, to rest, to think and dream of the future, and to
question what shall come next. We remained in this place until three
o’clock the next day.
Mr. Gibbs was fortunate enough as to recover from the effects of the
beating, so as to be out the next day. He came around to the place where
we were stopping, and took us to the Fall River boat. He gave me a
recommendation to a man in Boston by the name of Snowdon who would help
me as he said. He informed me that it would cost four dollars each to go
to Boston, Mass., and to give him the money and he would purchase the
tickets. As a stranger I gave him the required sum supposing it was all
right, as I was under his direction. He bought the tickets and gave them
to me. We shook hands and bade each other good-by. The steam whistle
blew, the moorings were loosed, the engine put in motion, the wheels
rotated, and we were on our way to Boston. To my surprise I found, after
we had reached the stream, that the tickets were second-class and not
first, as Mr. Gibbs represented. He only paid two dollars each for them,
and kept half the amount for himself. We had got beyond hailing power
now; he was on the land and we on the water; perhaps he was out of the
sight of the steamboat for all I knew. I pitied him when he got the
beating, but on the discovery of deception, and his having taken
unlawfully a part of my own hard earned and scanty means, the old Adam
rose in my bosom, and destroyed the sympathy that was there, turning
pity into passion and disdain. “Some men live by the sweat of their own
brow, and some live by the sweat of others.”
Not knowing the difference at first my wife and self went down in the
first cabin and as we did not have the right kind of tickets, were
ordered out. This was bad for my wife; I did not mind it so much. We had
now been married about a month, and for her to be placed in that
embarrassing state made me feel the condition more keenly. I paid one
dollar more for her so that she could enjoy the comforts of a cabin
passenger while I betook my weary self to the smoke-stack and there
roasted my sides against the boiler in order to keep warm. So much for
Mr. Gibbs’ generosity. Onward glided our steamboat through the quiet
sea, bearing us rapidly to a more northern home. Onward sped my
wandering thoughts of a near future; what kind of a reception was
awaiting me, and what would the prospects of employment and an income
for labor be? The arrival of the boat at Fall River, the bustling crowd,
the disembarking passengers aroused me from mental roamings. I had to
join the busy throng and make my way to the cars, which was done and we
were soon comfortably seated. The whistle blew and the train rolled out
of the depot. My wife and I occupied seats together, thinking that all
was right, but another trouble awaited me, another separation. Oh! those
tickets. Oh! that man Gibbs. Our tickets were through ones, I did not
understand the difference between first and second-class fares on the
trains. I had learnt the method of boat traveling and was now about to
take my first lesson on the railroad. The conductor was passing through
the car collecting the tickets, everybody appeared to be all right until
he came to me. I handed my ticket supposing I was like the rest, but
soon found out there was a mistake. He told me to get up and go into the
forward car, and wanted to know what I was “doing there.” So I had to
get up and leave; yes, to leave my wife to ride alone. When we arrived
at Boston the first business my attention was directed to was to find
Mr. Snowdon to whom I had a letter of introduction from Mr. Gibbs. After
making some inquiry I was sadly disappointed to learn that he was dead.
The gloom that began to spread over me was soon to disappear; the
silvery lining was near by. A place of rest and shelter was
providentially prepared for us in the hospitable residence of the late
Lewis Hayden. We stayed with him two or three weeks, and being
unsuccessful in obtaining work in that city we were sent to Worcester.
In using the term _we_ here is in reference to two young men, like
myself seeking liberty and employment. I left my wife in Boston with the
Hayden family. Mr. William C. Nell, a colored man, and an agent of the
Anti-Slavery Society sent us to Worcester with letters of introduction
to Mr. William Brown, now living and widely known. On arriving in this
city, we soon found Mr. Brown and stayed with him that night. The next
day we secured permanent lodging with Mr. Ebenezer Hemenway.
After jobbing around in various ways, I obtained steady employment on
the farm of the late Major Newton on Pleasant Street. I worked on that
farm until April 15, 1851, in company with Mr. C. B. Hadwin. Everything
went on smoothly up to this time, when those tormenting slave-holders,
who had come that winter, began to make themselves very conspicuous in
hunting for slave property. The poor despised negro slave was a valuable
article. Dollars and cents with thousands of miles of hard travel and
privations were no objects of consideration in the long chase and
capture of a runaway slave. This hunting slave fever got so high that
our sympathizing friends advised me to leave at once and go to Canada.
The two men that came with me from Boston, met and consulted at Abram
Howland’s store what had best be done. To remain here, there would be a
chance of capture, to leave, there would be an opportunity to escape.
The latter we agreed on, making our departure a speedy issue. However,
before going I hired rooms and had my wife come here to live; for I
thought her opportunities to get along would be better than in Boston.
On the fifteenth day of April, 1851, the three of us took the train to
Montreal, Dominion of Canada. We left on Saturday and arrived at our
destination about eleven o’clock Sunday. The river being frozen over we
had to cross on the ice on runners, but I did not know of the change
until I got to the depot. The snow was packed up so high in the streets
that pedestrians could not see each other from opposite sidewalks. It
was soon discovered that Montreal was not the place to welcome the
laboring man when a stranger; for there was nothing doing there, or
anything we could find to do that would give us an honest living.
Consequently we did not stay there but a few days. We went from there to
a place called Kingston, on the Lake, and stayed there but one day as
the prospects of work was far worse than in Montreal.
Next we went to Toronto where we found the climate warmer, and general
business a little better. We concluded to find a boarding place and try
our luck there. The place we sought was soon obtained, and agreed to pay
three dollars a week for board and lodging. Near the end of the second
week after being there, we procured work with an old colored man who
done a trucking business. At this time he had taken a contract to move a
building, and being in want of assistance, he hired the three of us at
rates of fifty cents a day. Just enough to meet our boarding charges.
The distance the house was to be moved was about two miles. Work was
begun by employers and employees arduously, and progressed as we thought
safely. Well it did for nine days, but on the tenth day, a sad disaster
was in store for us, and another draw-back to poor Isaac’s progress. On
this day we came to the descent of a hill over which our road lay. The
old rope was not new nor none of the best, so when the weight of the
building becoming greater and greater by the declivity of the road, the
hempen or flaxen cords were strained beyond their strength. At last they
snapped, they break asunder; and away went the house without the aid of
man or beast down the hill. With almost breathless astonishment, we
stood gazing at the sliding object, when suddenly a collision is
observed, a crushing noise is heard, the house has collapsed and gone to
pieces.
The man who owned the building sued the contractor for damages, got
judgment against him; and, also, got all the old man owned, horses and
trucks. So we unfortunates got nothing for our work and were in debt for
board to the amount of six dollars, and nothing to pay it with. It was a
sad loss to us. Our clothes and all we had were held in payment for
indebtedness. They were placed under lock and key. Among my clothing was
my wedding suit that cost me fifty dollars, also a valuable pair of
boots. We quitted boarding at that place at once and went to Queen’s
Bush, about seven miles from Toronto. There we made arrangements with a
man to cut fire wood, at fifty cents a cord—four feet long. He kept a
store and promised to furnish us with meat, bread and potatoes; our
working tools such as axes, mauls, wedges, &c., &c., were to be had from
him. After all necessary arrangements had been perfected, we went into
the woods, cut down some logs and put up a log house, covering it with
bushes, old boards and slabs which made it pretty tight. With our rude
home and home comforts provided, we went into chopping firewood in good
earnest. When we had chopped about one hundred cords, we proposed to
make a settlement, and get our money and visit Toronto to redeem our
clothes. The employer’s account against us was fifteen dollars, which
left a balance due us of about thirty-five dollars, which would be more
than enough to carry out our honest plan. But instead of receiving that
amount we only got fifty cents a piece; yes that was all we got. This
was on Saturday and we intended to spend Sunday in Toronto. Being thus
disappointed, we concluded to spend the Sabbath in the lonely woods, as
we could not then better our condition. He promised to pay us in full
the next following Saturday. Monday morning we resumed our work, looking
forward to be amply rewarded for the disappointment by the end of the
next six days’ labor. On went the days and up and down went our toiling
hands cutting, splitting and stacking. At last Saturday arrives, and we
appear before our employer for settlement. It is said, “The last state
of that man was worse than the first.” This saying was fully verified in
this man, for his last state was worse than the first one, and this
Saturday was worse than the last one, for we did not get one cent. We
found out that he did not own the land on which we worked, but that he
himself was hired by a man in Toronto to cut and deliver this wood at
the steamboat pier. This Saturday I determined to go to Toronto myself.
I left the other boys in the woods and started for the city of Toronto.
I began to make search for the man that had the wood cut or owned the
land on which we worked, and found he was a steamboat owner. I learned
from him that the man who was doing the work for him had been all paid
up, and there was not anything due him. Even the horses and carts that
were used in drawing the wood were all owned by the same man—that is
the owner of the steamboat. He told me if my companions and myself would
go back to work chopping wood, he himself would see us paid, but we
would have to be the losers of what he had already paid the agent. While
we were studying to be honest in paying our board bill; another was
studying to dishonestly rob us of strength and labor.
While in Toronto this time, I sought out a friend with whom I had become
acquainted with when there before, and got him to write a letter for me
to Mr. Joshua Spooner, who was then living on the Major Newton farm in
Worcester, Mass., and asking him to send me six dollars as I wanted to
come home to Worcester. Within five days from the time I sent the letter
his reply came containing the amount I sent for. I did not go back to
the woods again. Disgust and discouragement prevented me from laboring
for a man who cheated me out of my just due. I left the other boys
there, how long they remained I do not know. During these five days of
interval between the sending and receiving the Worcester letter, I did a
job for the man who had my clothes in bond or locked up, which amounted
to three dollars. I left in his hands two, on account, and kept one for
myself.
I went to the steamboat pier every day at four o’clock, and became
familiar with the faces of the different boats that plied between
Toronto and Rochester, N. Y. On the receipt of the money from Worcester,
I immediately paid the balance of four dollars due on board bill,
redeeming my clothes, and leaving me two dollars for traveling expenses.
As soon as I got my goods out of the possession of my former boarding
master, I bade him good-by and started for the pier. This was on the
night of the same Friday I received the money.
I sought the captain of the boat that left Saturday evening, and asked
him to allow me to work my way to Rochester, N. Y. He quickly replied:
“No; he would not allow it.” I took out the letter I had received that
day from Worcester, Mass., containing an account of my wife’s sickness,
and requesting him to read it. He did so, and I informed him how I was
compelled to pay away what money I had received. The letter with my
pleadings moved his sympathy towards me; he turned and said, I could go
but that I should have to work every hour of the time. I said his
sympathy was towards me, but that only went as far as being on board the
steamboat; I had to pay by hard work and no sleep. I was content to
comply with his demands; I had started for home, and could not pay for
my traveling expenses with money, so would have to pay it by labor. He
told me to go to the steward and get my supper, which I did. That was
Friday night, and Saturday morning I went to work helping to load the
steamboat. This work continued until four o’clock in the afternoon, the
appointed time for the boat to start.
At the hour designated we left the pier and was stopping at different
places off and on all night, putting off and taking on freight and
passengers until eight o’clock Sunday morning, when we arrived in
Rochester. I had not taken off my clothes or taken a wink of sleep all
night. Being tired and sleepy after a day and night’s hard toil, I took
a conveyance and went to hunt for a lodging house, and my search was
soon found. I went to bed and slept soundly until four o’clock in the
afternoon. When I landed in Rochester I was the owner of two dollars and
no more. This was the extent of my cash account. It cost me twenty-five
cents for conveyance, and fifty cents for lodging and dinner. Here I was
in the western part of New York state, miles from the city of Worcester,
Mass., my place of destination, with one dollar and twenty-five cents to
purchase a railroad ticket.
I went to the depot and inquired the fare to Worcester, and was informed
it would be fifteen dollars. My readers who may have been placed in such
a predicament can have some idea of the situation and can extend some
sympathy; and those who have not may draw upon their imagination and
perhaps gain a faint knowledge of the condition of an almost penniless
traveler. With wishful eyes I gazed at the departing trains with their
freight of living beings, but that was only vexation of spirit to me,
and a force of circumstances beyond my control.
Worcester and my sick wife loomed up before me demanding my appearance.
To purchase a ticket was impossible, to beg one was decidedly out of the
question. At last I concluded it was no use of tarrying any longer in
that place. My feet and legs had done me good service in my flight from
Chestertown, Maryland to Philadelphia, Penn. I now made up my mind to
trust to them at this time to reach my home, so off I started with the
determination to walk to Worcester. It was about half past five P. M.
with my knapsack on my back, I started on my long tedious march without
friend, guide or compass. I followed the railroad track going east as a
conductor on the way. Soon night began to spread its dark mantle around
me, yet undismayed, I pressed forward deeply occupied with thoughts of
the future. Midnight came in its stillness finding me still widening the
distance between myself and the Rochester depot. Midnight passes, the
small hours of the morn increase, until at last the light of a new day
begins to dawn upon the world, when men begin to rise from their warm
comfortable beds after a night of refreshing sleep. In rapid flight of
early dawn, the king of day, the centre of celestial light, rises in
majestic splendor over the eastern hills, indicating the cardinal point
to which my journey lay. With it came the cheer that one night had
passed away, shortening the distance between the starting point and that
of my destination. At eight o’clock to my surprise, I found I had
covered a distance of seventy-five miles that night. A night’s walk
without a halt to rest or refresh. As the day began to grow I determined
to change my road of travel. I now abandoned the railroad for the
tow-path, thinking to facilitate the travel; but I soon found out I did
not get along so fast. My feet became sore and lame, the continual
walking was beginning to manifest itself on my physical constitution;
but ambition with the force of will obviated the pain and urged the man
of suffering and disappointment onward.
After continuing in this condition for two or three days, the captain of
a canal boat asked me how I would like to ride one of the horses at
night, and remain on the boat during the day. The proposal had its
charms for me. There would be a chance for sleep during the day, there
was an opportunity for a good warm meal, and at night to sit on the
horse’s back. The offer was accepted and I went on board the boat.
The first night passed off without anything to cause alarm or to hinder
the work. In the morning I did a little work on the boat, got my own
breakfast and sought to lie down and sleep. On the second night I
resumed my task, mounted the horse, who with slow, steady tread, tramped
out the time allotted him. Night wore on, all on board the boat was
stillness; all had retired for the night to enjoy Nature’s refreshing
invigorator, sleep. As the light of early dawn lifted the curtain of
night, so that surrounding objects could be distinctly descerned, it
brought another gleam of light, for I was so much farther advanced on my
journey, and had enjoyed a little sleep and rest. We had reached Utica,
N. Y. The time would soon come when I should dismount my horse to betake
myself to the boat for rest and sleep. Sometimes it is remarkable easy
to plan out a few hours or days, but they are not as soon brought to
perfection. Difficulties in some form are apt to appear before us and
impede our progress. Surprises are constantly—well nearly
so—approaching us. There is the agreeable and disagreeable. Well there
was a surprise in reserve for this morning. I leave my reader to judge
whether it was a disagreeable or agreeable one after I have related it.
As we drew near a bridge under which we had to pass, I cast my eyes
upwards and to my utter surprise and astonishment what should I see but
the form of a man looking down on me. How quickly I remembered those
well known features. The man who five years ago was my master, who held
me in the bonds of slavery, who had cut and slashed my back; from whom I
had fled to enjoy the pure air of liberty.
He did not recognize me, but I did him, and that was enough for the
hunted. I at once took in the whole situation of the present and future.
I felt positive he was hunting for me. To remain long exposed to his
gaze would cause me danger and trouble. I dropped my head to conceal my
face from his longing, anxious eyes, and as soon as I had gone out of
his sight, I dismounted the horse, went on board the boat, got my little
bundle of goods and left the boat and horses in a great hurry. I did not
see the captain or any of the hands as they were all asleep, and I had
no time to call them. The horses were left to take care of themselves,
and go on of their own accord, as far as I know. These moments with me
were most precious for self preservation. The hunter was on my track,
had seen but not scented out my course. The necessity of the hour
compelled me to be as agile as a hare and as cunning as a fox.
I took to the main road intending to continue my journey on foot the
remainder of the way. Once more I found myself alone, with the end of my
destination before me and not the means to buy the cheapest means of
travel; depending upon the charity of the world. With a spirit of
determination and courage I pressed forward hour after hour in the
cheering light of day. Night overtakes me, a weary traveler, without
shelter or food. To lie down and rest I could not, in fact rest had no
charms for me in this lonely journey. Worcester and those who were all
to me in this life were anxious companions of my nocturnal travel.
Saturday night I found myself at the railroad station in the city of
Albany, N. Y. Crossing the ferry, a thunder storm coming up suddenly, I
took shelter in an inviting freight car, which was standing conveniently
near the landing. I sat down, or rather lay down, to rest and await the
conclusion of the storm, but tired and weary nature asserted her rights,
and I was soon fast asleep. When I awoke I found the car had been
traveling, and I became somewhat alarmed, as I did not know the route I
had been going, or where I might possibly be. But my doubts were soon
dispelled, for the car stopped at a way station and switched, so getting
out, and looking up to the sun I soon discovered that I had been
traveling in the right direction, and upon inquiry found that I had come
ten miles due east on my direct road to Worcester. The day being Sunday
I strayed out to a camp meeting of colored people and had a pleasant
time with them.
Finding my efforts had been so satisfactory, my hopes revived, and my
courage enlivened at the thought of soon ending this toilsome labor.
Starting off again Sunday night, I continued my travel until reaching
Worcester, Mass., which was on the second day of July, 1851, just two
weeks from the day I went on board the steamboat at Toronto, Canada. The
relief of over exertion, of physical fatigue, mental anxiety and the
privation of natural comforts are better felt and appreciated in thought
than expressed in words.
Having again joined my family and friends, I concluded to remain in
Worcester, Mass., or I may say to make it my home, as I had not found a
place in preference. It was not long before I found plenty of good
employment and benevolent sympathizers, and for forty-three years
Worcester has been my residence.
_CHAPTER V._
A FLYING VISIT TO HAYTI.
Being at this age a man of an enterprising turn of mind and inclined to
be somewhat of an adventurer, or, as some of my readers will say, only
extending an acquired habit, I was ready to enter upon any new
enterprise that might hold out inducements for benefiting my condition
or the advancement of the human family. For the purpose of furthering
those ambitious ideas I sought the fraternity of the best and most
popular societies as a means to carry out that end.