Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl, Written by Herself
far off. If I find out that any of my niggers have had any thing to do
with this damned business, I’ll give ’em five hundred lashes.” As he
started to go to his father’s, he turned round and added, persuasively,
“Let her be brought back, and she shall have her children to live with
her.”
The tidings made the old doctor rave and storm at a furious rate. It
was a busy day for them. My grandmother’s house was searched from top
to bottom. As my trunk was empty, they concluded I had taken my clothes
with me. Before ten o’clock every vessel northward bound was thoroughly
examined, and the law against harboring fugitives was read to all on
board. At night a watch was set over the town. Knowing how distressed
my grandmother would be, I wanted to send her a message; but it could
not be done. Every one who went in or out of her house was closely
watched. The doctor said he would take my children, unless she became
responsible for them; which of course she willingly did. The next day
was spent in searching. Before night, the following advertisement was
posted at every corner, and in every public place for miles round:—
“$300 Reward! Ran away from the subscriber, an intelligent, bright,
mulatto girl, named Linda, 21 years of age. Five feet four inches
high. Dark eyes, and black hair inclined to curl; but it can be
made straight. Has a decayed spot on a front tooth. She can read
and write, and in all probability will try to get to the Free
States. All persons are forbidden, under penalty of the law, to
harbor or employ said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takes
her in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and delivered
to me, or lodged in jail.
Dr. Flint.”
XVIII. Months Of Peril.
The search for me was kept up with more perseverance than I had
anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great
anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the
consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even
that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness
to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into
such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my
hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket of
bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a
reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which
loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so
dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and
slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was
compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into
the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my
look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and
vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The
application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread
of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend
asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the
bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in
vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed
part.[1]
[Footnote 1: The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is
counteracted by powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c.
The Indians are accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb
into strong lie. White men, employed to lay out railroads in snaky
places, often carry ammonia with them as an antidote.—EDITOR.]
I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives.
They were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to
escape, they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness,
and let him make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence
with me. When I started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved
that, come what would, there should be no turning back. “Give me
liberty, or give me death,” was my motto. When my friend contrived to
make known to my relatives the painful situation I had been in for
twenty-four hours, they said no more about my going back to my master.
Something must be done, and that speedily; but where to turn for help,
they knew not. God in his mercy raised up “a friend in need.”
Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who
had known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her.
She had also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for
them. At this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as
she not unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression
of her face, and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was
safe. My grandmother shook her head, without answering. “Come, Aunt
Martha,” said the kind lady, “tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do
something to help you.” The husband of this lady held many slaves, and
bought and sold slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she
treated them kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She
was unlike the majority of slaveholders’ wives. My grandmother looked
earnestly at her. Something in the expression of her face said “Trust
me!” and she did trust her. She listened attentively to the details of
my story, and sat thinking for a while. At last she said, “Aunt Martha,
I pity you both. If you think there is any chance of Linda’s getting
to the Free States, I will conceal her for a time. But first you must
solemnly promise that my name shall never be mentioned. If such a
thing should become known, it would ruin me and my family. No one in
my house must know of it, except the cook. She is so faithful that I
would trust my own life with her; and I know she likes Linda. It is a
great risk; but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word to Linda to
be ready as soon as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I will send
the housemaids on errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda.” The place
where we were to meet was designated and agreed upon. My grandmother
was unable to thank the lady for this noble deed; overcome by her
emotions, she sank on her knees and sobbed like a child.
I received a message to leave my friend’s house at such an hour, and go
to a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter
of prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing
who I was to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus
blindfolded, but I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain
where I was. I disguised myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst,
and went to the appointed place. My friend Betty was there; she was the
last person I expected to see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in
my leg was so intense that it seemed as if I should drop; but fear gave
me strength. We reached the house and entered unobserved. Her first
words were: “Honey, now you is safe. Dem devils ain’t coming to search
_dis_ house. When I get you into missis’ safe place, I will bring some
nice hot supper. I specs you need it after all dis skeering.” Betty’s
vocation led her to think eating the most important thing in life. She
did not realize that my heart was too full for me to care much about
supper.
The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room
over her own sleeping apartment. “You will be safe here, Linda,” said
she; “I keep this room to store away things that are out of use. The
girls are not accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect
any thing unless they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and
Betty shall take care of the key. But you must be very careful, for my
sake as well as your own; and you must never tell my secret; for it
would ruin me and my family. I will keep the girls busy in the morning,
that Betty may have a chance to bring your breakfast; but it will not
do for her to come to you again till night. I will come to see you
sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this state of things will not
last long.” Betty came with the “nice hot supper,” and the mistress
hastened down stairs to keep things straight till she returned. How my
heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in my throat; but I could
have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that deed of Christian
womanhood, may God forever bless her!
I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present
the most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little
cell with light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat.
Opposite my window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I
could lie perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through
which Dr. Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam
of satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I
triumphed over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are
constantly compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak
and oppressed against the strength of their tyrants.
I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I
knew who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more
for revenge than he did for money. My brother William, and the good
aunt who had served in his family twenty years, and my little Benny,
and Ellen, who was a little over two years old, were thrust into jail,
as a means of compelling my relatives to give some information about
me. He swore my grandmother should never see one of them again till
I was brought back. They kept these facts from me for several days.
When I heard that my little ones were in a loathsome jail, my first
impulse was to go to them. I was encountering dangers for the sake of
freeing them, and must I be the cause of their death? The thought was
agonizing. My benefactress tried to soothe me by telling me that my
aunt would take good care of the children while they remained in jail.
But it added to my pain to think that the good old aunt, who had always
been so kind to her sister’s orphan children, should be shut up in
prison for no other crime than loving them. I suppose my friends feared
a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as they did, that my life was
bound up in my children. I received a note from my brother William. It
was scarcely legible, and ran thus: “Wherever you are, dear sister, I
beg of you not to come here. We are all much better off than you are.
If you come, you will ruin us all. They would force you to tell where
you had been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of your friends;
if not for the sake of me and your children, at least for the sake of
those you would ruin.”
Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his
advice and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of
a month, because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was
tired of being her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to
order her dinner and eat it too. My children remained in jail, where
brother William did all he could for their comfort. Betty went to see
them sometimes, and brought me tidings. She was not permitted to enter
the jail; but William would hold them up to the grated window while
she chatted with them. When she repeated their prattle, and told me
how they wanted to see their ma, my tears would flow. Old Betty would
exclaim, “Lors, chile! what’s you crying ’bout? Dem young uns vil kill
you dead. Don’t be so chick’n hearted! If you does, you vil nebber git
thro’ dis world.”
Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never