THE ESCAPE.
Clayton had not been an unsympathizing or inattentive witness of these
scenes.
It is true that he knew not the whole depth of the affair; but Harry's
letter and his own observations had led him, without explanation, to
feel that there was a perilous degree of excitement in some of the
actors in the scene before him, which, unless some escape-valve were
opened, might lead to most fatal results.
The day after the funeral, he talked with Harry, wisely and kindly,
assuming nothing to himself on the ground either of birth or position;
showing to him the undesirableness and hopelessness, under present
circumstances, of any attempt to right by force the wrongs under which
his class were suffering, and opening to him and his associates a
prospect of a safer way by flight to the Free States.
One can scarcely appreciate the moral resolution and force of character
which could make a person in Clayton's position in society--himself
sustaining, in the eye of the law, the legal relation of a
slave-holder--give advice of this kind. No crime is visited with more
unsparing rigor by the _régime_ of southern society than the aiding or
abetting the escape of a slave. He who does it is tried as a
negro-stealer; and in some states death, in others a long and
disgraceful imprisonment in the penitentiary, is the award.
For granting the slightest assistance and succor, in cases like
these,--for harboring the fugitive for even a night,--for giving him the
meanest shelter and food,--persons have been stripped of their whole
property, and turned out destitute upon the world. Others for no other
crime, have languished years in unhealthy dungeons, and coming out at
last with broken health and wasted energies; nor has the most saintly
patience and purity of character in the victim been able to lessen or
mitigate the penalty.
It was therefore only by the discerning power of a mind sufficiently
clear and strong to see its way through the mists of educational
association, that Clayton could feel himself to be doing right in thus
violating the laws and customs of the social state under which he was
born. But, in addition to his belief in the inalienable right of every
man to liberty, he had at this time a firm conviction that nothing but
the removal of some of these minds from the oppressions which were
goading them could prevent a development of bloody insurrection.
It is probable that nothing has awakened more bitterly the animosity of
the slave-holding community than the existence in the Northern States of
an indefinite yet very energetic institution, known as _the underground
railroad_; and yet, would they but reflect wisely on the things that
belong to their peace, they would know that this has removed many a
danger from their dwellings. One has only to become well acquainted with
some of those fearless and energetic men who have found their way to
freedom by its means, to feel certain that such minds and hearts would
have proved, in time, an incendiary magazine under the scorching reign
of slavery. But by means of this, men of that class who cannot be kept
in slavery have found a road to liberty which endangered the shedding of
no blood but their own; and the record of the strange and perilous means
by which these escapes have been accomplished sufficiently shows the
resolute nature of the men by whom they were undertaken.
It was soon agreed that a large party of fugitives should in concert
effect their escape. Harry, being so white as easily to escape detection
out of the immediate vicinity where he was known, assumed the task of
making arrangements, for which he was amply supplied with money by
Clayton.
It is well known that there are, during the greater part of the year,
lumberers engaged in the cutting and making of shingles, who have
extensive camps in the swamp, and live there for months at a time. These
camps are made by laying foundations of logs on the spongy soil, thus
forming platforms on which rude cabins are erected. In the same manner
roads are constructed into distant parts of the swamp, by means of
which transportation is carried on. There is also a canal cut through
the middle of the swamp, on which small sailing craft pass backwards and
forwards with shingles and produce.
In the employ of these lumberers are multitudes of slaves hired from
surrounding proprietors. They live here in a situation of comparative
freedom, being obliged to make a certain number of staves or shingles
within a stipulated time, and being furnished with very comfortable
provision. Living thus somewhat in the condition of freemen, they are
said to be more intelligent, energetic, and self-respecting, than the
generality of slaves. The camp of the fugitives had not been without
intercourse with the camp of lumberers, some five miles distant. In
cases of straits they had received secret supplies from them, and one or
two of the more daring and intelligent of the slave lumberers had
attended some of Dred's midnight meetings. It was determined, therefore,
to negotiate with one of the slaves who commanded a lighter, or small
vessel, in which lumber was conveyed to Norfolk, to assist their escape.
On some consultation, however, it was found that the numbers wanting to
escape were so large as not to be able, without exciting suspicion, to
travel together, and it was therefore decided to make two detachments.
Milly had determined to cast in her lot with the fugitives, out of
regard to her grandchild, poor little Tomtit, whose utter and merry
thoughtlessness formed a touching contrast to the gravity and
earnestness of her affections and desires for him. He was to her the
only remaining memorial of a large family, which had been torn from her
by the ordinary reverses and chances of slavery; and she clung to him,
therefore, with the undivided energy of her great heart. As far as her
own rights were concerned, she would have made a willing surrender of
them, remaining patiently in the condition wherein she was called, and
bearing injustice and oppression as a means of spiritual improvement,
and seeking to do what good lay in her power.
Every individual has an undoubted right, if he chooses, thus to resign
the rights and privileges of his earthly birthright; but the question is
a very different one when it involves the improvement and the immortal
interests of those for whom the ties of blood oblige him to have care.
Milly, who viewed everything with the eye of a Christian, was far less
impressed by the rigor and severity of Tom Gordon's administration than
by the dreadful demoralization of character which he brought upon the
plantation.
Tomtit being a bright, handsome child, his master had taken a particular
fancy to him. He would have him always about his person, and treated him
with the same mixture of indulgence and caprice which one would bestow
upon a spaniel. He took particular pleasure in teaching him to drink and
to swear, apparently for nothing else than the idle amusement it
afforded him to witness the exhibition of such accomplishments in so
young a child.
In vain Milly, who dared use more freedom with him than any other
servant, expostulated. He laughed or swore at her, according to the
state in which he happened to be. Milly, therefore, determined at once
to join the flying party, and take her darling with her. Perhaps she
would not have been able to accomplish this, had not what she considered
a rather fortunate reverse, about this time, brought Tomtit into
disgrace with his master. Owing to some piece of careless mischief which
he had committed, he had been beaten with a severity as thoughtless as
the indulgence he at other times received, and, while bruised and
trembling from this infliction, he was fully ready to fly anywhere.
Quite unexpectedly to all parties, it was discovered that Tom Gordon's
confidential servant and valet, Jim, was one of the most forward to
escape. This man, from that peculiar mixture of boldness, adroitness,
cunning, and drollery, which often exists among negroes, had stood for
years as prime and undisputed favorite with his master; he had never
wanted for money, or for anything that money could purchase; and he had
had an almost unreproved liberty of saying, in an odd fashion, what he
pleased, with the licensed audacity of a court buffoon.
One of the slaves expressed astonishment that he, in his favored
position, should think of such a thing. Jim gave a knowing inclination
of his head to one side, and said:--
"Fac' is, bredren, dis chile is jest tired of dese yer partnership
concerns. I and mas'r, we has all tings in common, sure 'nough; but den
I'd rather have less of 'em, and have something dat's _mine_; 'sides
which, I never's going to have a wife till I can get one dat'll belong
to myself; dat ar's a ting I's 'ticular 'bout."
The conspirators were wont to hold their meetings nightly in the woods,
near the swamp, for purposes of concert and arrangement.
Jim had been trusted so much to come and go at his own pleasure, that he
felt little fear of detection, always having some plausible excuse on
hand, if inquiries were made.
It is to be confessed that he had been a very profane and irreverent
fellow, often attending prayer-meetings, and other religious exercises
of the negroes, for no other apparent purpose than to be able to give
burlesque imitations of all the proceedings for the amusement of his
master and his master's vile associates. Whenever, therefore, he was
missed, he would, upon inquiry, assert, with a knowing wink, that "he
had been out to de prayer-meetin'."
"Seems to me, Jim," says Tom, one morning, when he felt peculiarly
ill-natured, "seems to me you are doing nothing but go to meeting,
lately. I don't like it, and I'm not going to have it. Some deviltry or
other you are up to, and I'm going to put a stop to it. Now, mind
yourself; don't you go any more, or I'll give you----"
We shall not mention particularly what Tom was in the habit of
threatening to give.
Here was a dilemma. One attendance more in the woods this very night was
necessary,--was, indeed, indispensable. Jim put all his powers of
pleasing into requisition. Never had he made such desperate efforts to
be entertaining. He sang, he danced, he mimicked sermons, carried on
mock meetings, and seemed to whip all things sacred and profane
together, in one great syllabub of uproarious merriment; and this to an
idle man, with a whole day upon his hands, and an urgent necessity for
never having time to think, was no small affair.
Tom mentally reflected in the evening, as he lay stretched out in the
veranda, smoking his cigar, what in the world he should do without Jim,
to keep him in spirits; and Jim, under cover of the day's glory, had
ventured to request of his master the liberty of an hour, which he
employed in going to his tryst in the woods. This was a bold step,
considering how positively he had been forbidden to do it in the
morning; but Jim heartily prayed to his own wits, the only god he had
been taught to worship, to help him out once more. He was returning
home, hastening, in order to be in season for his master's bed-time,
hoping to escape unquestioned as to where he had been.
The appointments had all been made, and, between two and three o'clock
that night, the whole party were to strike out upon their course, and
ere morning to have travelled the first stage of their pilgrimage
towards freedom.
Already the sense of a new nature was beginning to dawn on Jim's mind--a
sense of something graver, steadier, and more manly, than the wild,
frolicsome life he had been leading; and his bosom throbbed with a
strange, new, unknown hope.
Suddenly, on the very boundary of the spot where the wood joins the
plantation, whom should he meet but Tom Gordon, sent there as if he had
been warned by his evil stars.
"Now, Lord help me! if dere is any Lord," said Jim. "Well, I's got to
blaze it out now de best way I ken."
He walked directly up to his master, with his usual air of saucy
assurance.
"Why, Jim," said Tom, "where have you been? I've been looking for you."
"Why, bless you, mas'r, honey, I's been out to de meetin'."
"Didn't I tell you, you dog," said Tom, with an oath, "that you were not
to go to any more of those meetings?"
"Why, laws, mas'r, honey, chile, 'fore my heavenly mas'r, I done forgot
every word you said!" said Jim. "I's so kind o' tumbled up and down this
day, and things has been so cur'us!"
The ludicrous grimace and tone, and attitude of affected contrition,
with which all this was said, rather amused Tom; and, though he still
maintained an air of sternness, the subtle negro saw at once his
advantage, and added, "'Clare if I isn't most dead! Ole Pomp, he
preached, and he gets me so full o' grace I's fit to bust. Has to do
something wicked, else I'll get translated one dese yer days, like
'Lijah, and den who'd mas'r have fur to wait on him?"
"I don't believe you've been to meeting," said Tom, eyeing him with
affected suspicion. "You've been out on some spree."
"Why, laws, mas'r, honey, you hurts my feelings! Why, now, I's in hopes
you'd say you see de grace a shining out all over me. Why, I's been in a
clar state of glorrufication all dis evening. Dat ar ole Pomp, dar's no
mistake, he does lift a body up powerful!"
"You don't remember a word he said, now, I'll bet," said Tom. "Where was
the text?"
"Text!" said Jim, with assurance; "'twas in de twenty-fourth chapter of
Jerusalem, sixteenth verse."
"Well," said Tom, "what was it? I should like to know."
"Laws, mas'r, I b'lieve I can 'peat it," said Jim, with an indescribable
air of waggish satisfaction. "'Twas dis yer: 'Ye shall sarch fur me in
de mornin' and ye won't find me.' Dat ar's a mighty solemn text, mas'r,
and ye ought to be 'flecting on't."
And Tom had occasion to reflect upon it, the next morning, when, having
stormed, and sworn, and pulled until he broke the bell-wire, no Jim
appeared. It was some time before he could actually realize or believe
he was gone.
The ungrateful dog! The impudent puppy, who had had all his life
everything he wanted, to run away from him!
Tom aroused the whole country in pursuit; and, as servants were found
missing in many other plantations, there was a general excitement
through the community. The _Trumpet of Liberty_ began to blow dolorous
notes, and articles headed, "The results of Abolitionist teaching, and
covert incendiarism," began to appear. It was recommended that a general
search should be made through the country for all persons tinctured with
abolitionist sentiments, and immediate measures pursued to oblige them
to leave the state forthwith.
One or two respectable gentlemen, who were in the habit of taking the
_National Era_, were visited by members of a vigilance committee, and
informed that they must immediately drop the paper or leave the state;
and when one of them talked of his rights as a free citizen, and
inquired how they would enforce their requisitions, supposing he
determined to stand for his liberty, the party informed him succinctly
to the following purport: "If you do not comply, your corn, grain, and
fodder, will be burned; your cattle driven off; and, if you still
persist, your house will be set on fire and consumed, and you will never
know who does it."
When the good gentleman inquired if this was freedom, his instructors
informed him that freedom consisted in their right and power to make
their neighbors submit to their own will and dictation; and he would
find himself in a free country so far as this, that every one would feel
at liberty to annoy and maltreat him so long as he opposed the popular
will.
This modern doctrine of liberty has of late been strikingly and
edifyingly enforced on the minds of some of our brethren and sisters in
the new states, to whom the offer of relinquishing their principles or
their property and lives has been tendered with the same admirable
explicitness.
It is scarcely necessary to remark that both these worthy gentlemen, to
use the language of their conquerors, "caved in," and thus escaped with
no other disadvantage than a general plundering of their smoke-houses,
the hams in which were thought a desirable addition to a triumphal
entertainment proposed to be given in honor of law and order by THE
ASSOCIATE BANDS of the GLORIOUS IMMORTAL COONS, the body-guard which was
Tom Gordon's instrument in all these exploits.
In fact, this association, although wanting the advantage of an
ordaining prayer and a distribution of Bibles, as has been the case with
some more recently sent from Southern States, to beat the missionary
drum of state rights and the principles of law and order on our
frontiers, yet conducted themselves in a manner which might have won
them approbation even in Col. Buford's regiment, giving such exhibitions
of liberty as were sufficient to justify all despots for putting it down
by force for centuries to come.
Tom Gordon was the great organizer and leader of all these operations;
his suspicions had connected Clayton with the disappearance of his
slaves, and he followed upon his track with the sagacity of a
bloodhound.
The outrage which he had perpetrated upon him in the forest, so far from
being a matter of shame or concealment, was paraded as a cause for open
boast and triumph. Tom rode about with his arm in a sling as a wounded
hero, and received touching testimonials and demonstrations from sundry
ladies of his acquaintance for his gallantry and spirit. When on the
present occasion he found the pursuit of his slaves hopeless, his wrath
and malice knew no bounds, and he determined to stir up and enkindle
against Clayton to the utmost degree the animosities of the planters
around his estate of Magnolia Grove.
This it was not difficult to do. We have already shown how much latent
discontent and heart-burning had been excited by the course which
Clayton and his sister had pursued on their estate.
Tom Gordon had a college acquaintance with the eldest son of one of the
neighboring families, a young man of as reckless and dissipated habits
as his own.
Hearing, therefore, that Clayton had retired to Magnolia Grove, he
accepted an invitation of this young man to make him a visit,
principally, as it would appear, for the purpose of instigating some
mischief.