At last the time for action arrived. The boat landed at a point which
appeared to me the place of all others to start from. I found that
it would be impossible to carry anything with me but what was upon my
person. I had some provisions, and a single suit of clothes, about
half worn. When the boat was discharging her cargo, and the passengers
engaged carrying their baggage on and off shore, I improved the
opportunity to convey myself with my little effects on land. Taking up
a trunk, I went up the wharf, and was soon out of the crowd. I made
directly for the woods, where I remained until night, knowing well that
I could not travel, even in the state of Ohio, during the day, without
danger of being arrested.
I had long since made up my mind that I would not trust myself in the
hands of any man, white or colored. The slave is brought up to look upon
every white man as an enemy to him and his race; and twenty-one years
in slavery had taught me that there were traitors, even among colored
people. After dark, I emerged from the woods into a narrow path, which
led me into the main travelled road. But I knew not which way to go. I
did not know north from south, east from west. I looked in vain for the
North Star; a heavy cloud hid it from my view. I walked up and down the
road until near midnight, when the clouds disappeared, and I welcomed
the sight of my friend--truly the slave’s friend--the North Star!
As soon as I saw it, I knew my course, and before daylight I travelled
twenty or twenty-five miles. It being in the winter, I suffered
intensely from the cold; being without an overcoat, and my other clothes
rather thin for the season. I was provided with a tinder-box, so that
I could make up a fire when necessary. And but for this, I should
certainly have frozen to death; for I was determined not to go to any
house for shelter. I knew of a man belonging to Gen. Ashly, of St.
Louis, who had run away near Cincinnati, on the way to Washington,
but had been caught and carried back into slavery; and I felt that, a
similar fate awaited me, should I be seen by any one. I travelled at
night, and lay by during the day.
On the fourth day my provisions gave out, and then what to do I could
not tell. Have something to eat I must; but how to get it was the
question! On the first night after my food was gone, I went to a barn on
the road-side and there found some ears of corn. I took ten or twelve of
them, and kept on my journey. During the next day, while in the woods,
I roasted my corn and feasted upon it, thanking God that I was so well
provided for.
My escape to a land of freedom now appeared certain, and the prospects
of the future occupied a great part of my thoughts. What should be my
occupation, was a subject of much anxiety to me; and the next thing what
should be my name? I have before stated that my old master, Dr. Young,
had no children of his own, but had with him a nephew, the son of his
brother, Benjamin Young. When this boy was brought to Dr. Young, his
name being William, the same as mine, my mother was ordered to change
mine to something else. This, at the time, I thought to be one of the
most cruel acts that could be committed upon my rights; and I received
several very severe whippings for telling people that my name was
William, after orders were given to change it. Though young, I was
old enough to place a high appreciation upon my name. It was decided,
however, to call me “Sandford,” and this name I was known by, not only
upon my master’s plantation, but up to the time that I made my escape. I
was sold under the name of Sandford.
But as soon as the subject came to my mind, I resolved on adopting my
old name of William, and let Sandford go by the board, for I always
hated it. Not because there was anything peculiar in the name; but
because it had been forced upon me. It is sometimes common, at the
south, for slaves to take the name of their masters. Some have a
legitimate right to do so. But I always detested the idea of being
called by the name of either of my masters. And as for my father, I
would rather have adopted the name of “Friday,” and been known as the
servant of some Robinson Crusoe, than to have taken his name. So I was
not only hunting for my liberty, but also hunting for a name; though I
regarded the latter as of little consequence, if I could but gain the
former. Travelling along the road, I would sometimes speak to myself,
sounding my name over, by way of getting used to it, before I should
arrive among civilized human beings. On the fifth or six day, it rained
very fast, and froze about as fast as it fell, so that my clothes were
one glare of ice. I travelled on at night until I became so chilled and
benumbed--the wind blowing into my face--that I found it impossible
to go any further, and accordingly took shelter in a barn, where I was
obliged to walk about to keep from freezing.
I have ever looked upon that night as the most eventful part of my
escape from slavery. Nothing but the providence of God, and that old
barn, saved me from freezing to death. I received a very severe cold,
which settled upon my lungs, and from time to time my feet had been
frostbitten, so that it was with difficulty I could walk. In this
situation I travelled two days, when I found that I must seek shelter
somewhere, or die.
The thought of death was nothing frightful to me, compared with that
of being caught, and again carried back into slavery. Nothing but the
prospect of enjoying liberty could have induced me to undergo such
trials, for
“Behind I left the whips and chains,
Before me were sweet Freedom’s plains!”
This, and this alone, cheered me onward. But I at last resolved to seek
protection from the inclemency of the weather, and therefore I secured
myself behind some logs and brush, intending to wait there until some
one should pass by; for I thought it probable that I might see some
colored person, or, if not, some one who was not a slaveholder; for I
had an idea that I should know a slaveholder as far as I could see him.
The first person that passed was a man in a buggy-wagon. He looked too
genteel for me to hail him. Very soon another passed by on horseback. I
attempted to speak to him, but fear made my voice fail me. As he passed,
I left my hiding-place, and was approaching the road, when I observed
an old man walking towards me, leading a white horse. He had on a
broad-brimmed hat and a very long coat, and was evidently walking for
exercise. As soon as I saw him, and observed his dress, I thought
to myself, “You are the man that have been looking for!” Nor was I
mistaken. He was the very man!
On approaching me, he asked me, “if I was not a slave.” I looked at him
some time, and then asked him “if he knew of any one who would help me,
as I was sick.” He answered that he would; but again asked, if I was not
a slave. I told him I was. He then said that I was in a very pro-slavery
neighborhood, and if I would wait until he went home, he would get a
covered wagon for me. I promised to remain. He mounted his horse, and
was soon out of sight.
After he was gone, I meditated whether to wait or not; being
apprehensive that he had gone for some one to arrest me. But I finally
concluded to remain until he should return; removing some few rods to
watch his movements. After a suspense of an hour and a half or more, he
returned with a two-horse covered wagon, such as are usually seen under
the shed of a Quaker meetinghouse on Sundays and Thursdays; for the old
man proved to be a Quaker of the George Fox stamp.
He took me to his house, but it was some time before I could be induced
to enter it; not until the old lady came out, did I venture into the
house. I thought I saw something in the old lady’s cap that told me
I was not only safe, but welcome, in her house. I was not, however,
prepared to receive their hospitalities. The only fault I found with
them was their being too kind. I had never had a white man to treat me
as an equal, and the idea of a white lady waiting on me at the table was
still worse! Though the table was loaded with the good things of
this life, I could not eat. I thought if I could only be allowed the
privilege of eating in the kitchen I should be more than satisfied!
Finding that I could not eat, the old lady, who was a “Thompsonian,”
made me a cup of “composition,” or “number six;” but it was so strong
and hot, that I called it “_number seven!_” However, I soon found myself
at home in this family. On different occasions, when telling these
facts, I have been asked how I felt upon finding myself regarded as
a man by a white family; especially just having run away from one. I
cannot say that I have ever answered the question yet.
The fact that I was in all probability a freeman, sounded in my ears
like a charm. I am satisfied that none but a slave could place such an
appreciation upon liberty as I did at that time. I wanted to see mother
and sister, that I might tell them “I was free!” I wanted to see my
fellow-slaves in St. Louis, and let them know that the chains were no
longer upon my limbs. I wanted to see Captain Price, and let him learn
from my own lips that I was no more a chattel, but a man! I was anxious,
too, thus to inform Mrs. Price that she must get another coachman. And I
wanted to see Eliza more than I did either Mr. or Mrs. Price!
The fact that I was a freeman--could walk, talk, eat and sleep, as a
man, and no one to stand over me with the blood-clotted cow-hide--all
this made me feel that I was not myself.
The kind friend that had taken me in was named Wells Brown. He was a
devoted friend of the slave; but was very old, and not in the enjoyment
of good health. After being by the fire awhile, I found that my feet had
been very much frozen. I was seized with a fever, which threatened
to confine me to my bed. But my Thompsonian friends soon raised me,
treating me as kindly as if I had been one of their own children. I
remained with them twelve or fifteen days, during which time they made
me some clothing, and the old gentleman purchased me a pair of boots.
I found that I was about fifty or sixty miles from Dayton, in the State
of Ohio, and between one and two hundred miles from Cleaveland, on Lake
Erie, a place I was desirous of reaching on my way to Canada. This I
know will sound strangely to the ears of people in foreign lands, but it
is nevertheless true. An American citizen was fleeing from a democratic,
republican, Christian government, to receive protection under the
monarchy of Great Britain. While the people of the United States boast
of their freedom, they at the same time keep three millions of their own
citizens in chains; and while I am seated here in sight of Bunker Hill
Monument, writing this narrative, I am a slave, and no law, not even in
Massachusetts, can protect me from the hands of the slaveholder!
Before leaving this good Quaker friend, he inquired what my name was
besides William. I told him that I had no other name. “Well,” said he,
“thee must have another name. Since thee has got out of slavery, thee
has become a man, and men always have two names.”
I told him that he was the first man to extend the hand of friendship to
me, and I would give him the privilege of naming me.
“If I name thee,” said he, “I shall call thee Wells Brown, after
myself,”
“But,” said I, “I am not willing to lose my name of William. As it was
taken from me once against my will, I am not willing to part with it
again upon any terms.
“Then,” said he, “I will call thee William Wells Brown.”
“So be it,” said I; and I have been known by that name ever since I left
the house of my first white friend, Wells Brown.
After giving me some little change, I again started for Canada. In
four days I reached a public house, and went in to warm myself. I there
learned that some fugitive slaves had just passed through the place. The
men in the bar-room were talking about it, and I thought that it must
have been myself they referred to, and I was therefore afraid to start,
fearing they would seize me; but I finally mustered courage enough, and
took my leave. As soon as I was out of sight, I went into the woods,
and remained there until night, when I again regained the road, and
travelled on until next day.
Not having had any food for nearly two days, I was faint with hunger,
and was in a dilemma what to do, as the little cash supplied me by my
adopted father, and which had contributed to my comfort, was now all
gone. I however concluded to go to a farm-house, and ask for something
to eat. On approaching the door of the first one presenting itself, I
knocked, and was soon met by a man who asked me what I wanted. I told
him that I would like something to eat. He asked me where I was from,
and where I was going. I replied that I had come some way, and was going
to Cleaveland.
After hesitating a moment or two, he told me that he could give me
nothing to eat, adding, “that if I would work, I could get something to
eat.”
I felt bad, being thus refused something to sustain nature, but did not
dare tell him that I was a slave.
Just as I was leaving the door, with a heavy heart, a woman, who proved
to be the wife of this gentleman, came to the door, and asked her
husband what I wanted. He did not seem inclined to inform her. She
therefore asked me herself. I told her that I had asked for something to
eat. After a few other questions, she told me to come in, and that she
would give me something to eat.
I walked up to the door, but the husband remained in the passage, as if
unwilling to let me enter.
She asked him two or three times to get out of the way, and let me in.
But as he did not move, she pushed him on one side, bidding me walk in!
I was never before so glad to see a woman push a man aside! Ever since
that act, I have been in favor of “woman’s rights!”
After giving me as much food as I could eat, she presented me with ten
cents, all the money then at her disposal, accompanied with a note to
a friend, a few miles further on the road. Thanking this angel of mercy
from an overflowing heart, I pushed on my way, and in three days arrived
at Cleaveland, Ohio.
Being an entire stranger in this place, it was difficult for me to find
where to stop. I had no money, and the lake being frozen, I saw that I
must remain until the opening of the navigation, or go to Canada by way
of Buffalo. But believing myself to be somewhat out of danger, I secured
an engagement at the Mansion House, as a table waiter, in payment for my
board. The proprietor, however, whose name was E. M. Segur, in a short
time, hired me for twelve dollars a month; on which terms I remained
until spring, when I found good employment on board a lake steamboat.
I purchased some books, and at leisure moments perused them with
considerable advantage to my-self. While at Cleaveland, I saw, for the
first time, an anti-slavery newspaper. It was the “_Genius of Universal
Emancipation_,” published by Benjamin Lundy; and though I had no home,
I subscribed for the paper. It was my great desire, being out of slavery
myself, to do what I could for the emancipation of my brethren yet in
chains, and while on Lake Erie, I found many opportunities of “helping
their cause along.”
It is well known that a great number of fugitives make their escape
to Canada, by way of Cleaveland; and while on the lakes, I always made
arrangement to carry them on the boat to Buffalo or Detroit, and thus
effect their escape to the “promised land.” The friends of the slave,
knowing that I would transport them without charge, never failed to have
a delegation when the boat arrived at Cleaveland. I have sometimes had
four or five on board at one time.
In the year 1842 I conveyed, from the first of May to the first of
December, sixty-nine fugitives over Lake Erie to Canada. In 1843, I
visited Malden, in Upper Canada, and counted seventeen in that small
village, whom I had assisted in reaching Canada. Soon after coming north
I subscribed for the Liberator, edited by that champion of freedom,
William Lloyd Garrison. I had heard nothing of the anti-slavery movement
while in slavery, and as soon as I found that my enslaved countrymen had
friends who were laboring for their liberation, I felt anxious to join
them, and give what aid I could to the cause.
I early embraced the temperance cause, and found that a temperance
reformation was needed among my colored brethren. In company with a few
friends, I commenced a temperance reformation among the colored people
in the city of Buffalo, and labored three years, in which time a society
was built up, numbering over five hundred out of a population of less
than seven hundred.
In the autumn, 1843, impressed with the importance of spreading
anti-slavery truth, as a means to bring about the abolition of slavery,
I commenced lecturing as an agent of the western New York Anti-Slavery
Society, and have ever since devoted my time to the cause of my enslaved
countrymen.