My Bondage and My Freedom
the morals of the Christian city of Baltimore, afforded no protection
to the sable denizens of that city.
Master Hugh, on finding he could get no redress for the cruel wrong,
withdrew me from the employment of Mr. Gardiner, and took me into his
own family, Mrs. Auld kindly taking care of me, and dressing my wounds,
until they were healed, and I was ready to go again to work.
While I was on the Eastern Shore, Master Hugh had met with reverses,
which overthrew his business; and he had given up ship building in his
own yard, on the City Block, and was now acting as foreman of Mr.
Walter Price. The best he could now do for me, was to take me into Mr.
Price’s yard, and afford me the facilities there, for completing the
trade which I had began to learn at Gardiner’s. Here I rapidly became
expert in the use of my calking tools; and, in the course of a single
year, I was able to command the highest wages paid to journeymen
calkers in Baltimore.
The reader will observe that I was now of some pecuniary value to my
master. During the busy season, I was bringing six and seven dollars
per week. I have, sometimes, brought him as much as nine dollars a
week, for the wages were a dollar and a half per day.
After learning to calk, I sought my own employment, made my own
contracts, and collected my own earnings; giving Master Hugh no trouble
in any part of the transactions to which I was a party.
Here, then, were better days for the Eastern Shore _slave_. I was now
free from the vexatious assalts(sic) of the apprentices at Mr.
Gardiner’s; and free from the perils of plantation life, and once more
in a favorable condition to increase my little stock of education,
which had been at a dead stand since my removal from Baltimore. I had,
on the Eastern Shore, been only a teacher, when in company with other
slaves, but now there were colored persons who could instruct me. Many
of the young calkers could read, write and cipher. Some of them had
high notions about mental improvement; and the free ones, on Fell’s
Point, organized what they called the _“East Baltimore Mental
Improvement Society.”_ To this society, notwithstanding it was intended
that only free persons should attach themselves, I was admitted, and
was, several times, assigned a prominent part in its debates. I owe
much to the society of these young men.
The reader already knows enough of the _ill_ effects of good treatment
on a slave, to anticipate what was now the case in my improved
condition. It was not long before I began to show signs of disquiet
with slavery, and to look around for means to get out of that condition
by the shortest route. I was living among _free men;_ and was, in all
respects, equal to them by nature and by attainments. _Why should I be
a slave?_ There was _no_ reason why I should be the thrall of any man.
Besides, I was now getting—as I have said—a dollar and fifty cents per
day. I contracted for it, worked for it, earned it, collected it; it
was paid to me, and it was _rightfully_ my own; and yet, upon every
returning Saturday night, this money—my own hard earnings, every cent
of it—was demanded of me, and taken from me by Master Hugh. He did not
earn it; he had no hand in earning it; why, then, should he have it? I
owed him nothing. He had given me no schooling, and I had received from
him only my food and raiment; and for these, my services were supposed
to pay, from the first. The right to take my earnings, was the right of
the robber. He had the power to compel me to give him the fruits of my
labor, and this power was his only right in the case. I became more and
more dissatisfied with this state of things; and, in so becoming, I
only gave proof of the same human nature which every reader of this
chapter in my life—slaveholder, or nonslaveholder—is conscious of
possessing.
To make a contented slave, you must make a thoughtless one. It is
necessary to darken his moral and mental vision, and, as far as
possible, to annihilate his power of reason. He must be able to detect
no inconsistencies in slavery. The man that takes his earnings, must be
able to convince him that he has a perfect right to do so. It must not
depend upon mere force; the slave must know no Higher Law than his
master’s will. The whole relationship must not only demonstrate, to his
mind, its necessity, but its absolute rightfulness. If there be one
crevice through which a single drop can fall, it will certainly rust
off the slave’s chain.
CHAPTER XXI. _My Escape from Slavery_
CLOSING INCIDENTS OF “MY LIFE AS A SLAVE”—REASONS WHY FULL PARTICULARS
OF THE MANNER OF MY ESCAPE WILL NOT BE GIVEN—CRAFTINESS AND MALICE OF
SLAVEHOLDERS—SUSPICION OF AIDING A SLAVE’S ESCAPE ABOUT AS DANGEROUS AS
POSITIVE EVIDENCE—WANT OF WISDOM SHOWN IN PUBLISHING DETAILS OF THE
ESCAPE OF THE FUGITIVES—PUBLISHED ACCOUNTS REACH THE MASTERS, NOT THE
SLAVES—SLAVEHOLDERS STIMULATED TO GREATER WATCHFULNESS—MY
CONDITION—DISCONTENT—SUSPICIONS IMPLIED BY MASTER HUGH’S MANNER, WHEN
RECEIVING MY WAGES—HIS OCCASIONAL GENEROSITY!—DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY
OF ESCAPE—EVERY AVENUE GUARDED—PLAN TO OBTAIN MONEY—I AM ALLOWED TO
HIRE MY TIME—A GLEAM OF HOPE—ATTENDS CAMP-MEETING, WITHOUT
PERMISSION—ANGER OF MASTER HUGH THEREAT—THE RESULT—MY PLANS OF ESCAPE
ACCELERATED THERBY—THE DAY FOR MY DEPARTURE FIXED—HARASSED BY DOUBTS
AND FEARS—PAINFUL THOUGHTS OF SEPARATION FROM FRIENDS—THE ATTEMPT
MADE—ITS SUCCESS.
I will now make the kind reader acquainted with the closing incidents
of my “Life as a Slave,” having already trenched upon the limit
allotted to my “Life as a Freeman.” Before, however, proceeding with
this narration, it is, perhaps, proper that I should frankly state, in
advance, my intention to withhold a part of the(sic) connected with my
escape from slavery. There are reasons for this suppression, which I
trust the reader will deem altogether valid. It may be easily
conceived, that a full and complete statement of all facts pertaining
to the flight of a bondman, might implicate and embarrass some who may
have, wittingly or unwittingly, assisted him; and no one can wish me to
involve any man or woman who has befriended me, even in the liability
of embarrassment or trouble.
Keen is the scent of the slaveholder; like the fangs of the
rattlesnake, his malice retains its poison long; and, although it is
now nearly seventeen years since I made my escape, it is well to be
careful, in dealing with the circumstances relating to it. Were I to
give but a shadowy outline of the process adopted, with characteristic
aptitude, the crafty and malicious among the slaveholders might,
possibly, hit upon the track I pursued, and involve some one in
suspicion which, in a slave state, is about as bad as positive
evidence. The colored man, there, must not only shun evil, but shun the
very _appearance_ of evil, or be condemned as a criminal. A
slaveholding community has a peculiar taste for ferreting out offenses
against the slave system, justice there being more sensitive in its
regard for the peculiar rights of this system, than for any other
interest or institution. By stringing together a train of events and
circumstances, even if I were not very explicit, the means of escape
might be ascertained, and, possibly, those means be rendered,
thereafter, no longer available to the liberty-seeking children of
bondage I have left behind me. No antislavery man can wish me to do
anything favoring such results, and no slaveholding reader has any
right to expect the impartment of such information.
While, therefore, it would afford me pleasure, and perhaps would
materially add to the interest of my story, were I at liberty to
gratify a curiosity which I know to exist in the minds of many, as to
the manner of my escape, I must deprive myself of this pleasure, and
the curious of the gratification, which such a statement of facts would
afford. I would allow myself to suffer under the greatest imputations
that evil minded men might suggest, rather than exculpate myself by
explanation, and thereby run the hazards of closing the slightest
avenue by which a brother in suffering might clear himself of the
chains and fetters of slavery.
The practice of publishing every new invention by which a slave is
known to have escaped from slavery, has neither wisdom nor necessity to
sustain it. Had not Henry Box Brown and his friends attracted
slaveholding attention to the manner of his escape, we might have had a
thousand _Box Browns_ per annum. The singularly original plan adopted
by William and Ellen Crafts, perished with the first using, because
every slaveholder in the land was apprised of it. The _salt water
slave_ who hung in the guards of a steamer, being washed three days and
three nights—like another Jonah—by the waves of the sea, has, by the
publicity given to the circumstance, set a spy on the guards of every
steamer departing from southern ports.
I have never approved of the very public manner, in which some of our
western friends have conducted what _they_ call the _“Under-ground
Railroad,”_ but which, I think, by their open declarations, has been
made, most emphatically, the _“Upper_-ground Railroad.” Its stations
are far better known to the slaveholders than to the slaves. I honor
those good men and women for their noble daring, in willingly
subjecting themselves to persecution, by openly avowing their
participation in the escape of slaves; nevertheless, the good resulting
from such avowals, is of a very questionable character. It may kindle
an enthusiasm, very pleasant to inhale; but that is of no practical
benefit to themselves, nor to the slaves escaping. Nothing is more
evident, than that such disclosures are a positive evil to the slaves
remaining, and seeking to escape. In publishing such accounts, the
anti-slavery man addresses the slaveholder, _not the slave;_ he
stimulates the former to greater watchfulness, and adds to his
facilities for capturing his slave. We owe something to the slaves,
south of Mason and Dixon’s line, as well as to those north of it; and,
in discharging the duty of aiding the latter, on their way to freedom,
we should be careful to do nothing which would be likely to hinder the
former, in making their escape from slavery. Such is my detestation of
slavery, that I would keep the merciless slaveholder profoundly
ignorant of the means of flight adopted by the slave. He should be left
to imagine himself surrounded by myriads of invisible tormentors, ever
ready to snatch, from his infernal grasp, his trembling prey. In
pursuing his victim, let him be left to feel his way in the dark; let
shades of darkness, commensurate with his crime, shut every ray of
light from his pathway; and let him be made to feel, that, at every
step he takes, with the hellish purpose of reducing a brother man to
slavery, he is running the frightful risk of having his hot brains
dashed out by an invisible hand.
But, enough of this. I will now proceed to the statement of those
facts, connected with my escape, for which I am alone responsible, and
for which no one can be made to suffer but myself.
My condition in the year (1838) of my escape, was, comparatively, a
free and easy one, so far, at least, as the wants of the physical man
were concerned; but the reader will bear in mind, that my troubles from
the beginning, have been less physical than mental, and he will thus be
prepared to find, after what is narrated in the previous chapters, that
slave life was adding nothing to its charms for me, as I grew older,
and became better acquainted with it. The practice, from week to week,
of openly robbing me of all my earnings, kept the nature and character
of slavery constantly before me. I could be robbed by _indirection_,
but this was _too_ open and barefaced to be endured. I could see no