Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave
tried to conceal our feelings as much as possible; and I think we
succeeded very well.
After a painful waiting, the Saturday morning, whose night was to
witness our departure, came. I hailed it with joy, bring what of
sadness it might. Friday night was a sleepless one for me. I probably
felt more anxious than the rest, because I was, by common consent, at
the head of the whole affair. The responsibility of success or failure
lay heavily upon me. The glory of the one, and the confusion of the
other, were alike mine. The first two hours of that morning were such
as I never experienced before, and hope never to again. Early in the
morning, we went, as usual, to the field. We were spreading manure; and
all at once, while thus engaged, I was overwhelmed with an
indescribable feeling, in the fulness of which I turned to Sandy, who
was near by, and said, “We are betrayed!” “Well,” said he, “that
thought has this moment struck me.” We said no more. I was never more
certain of any thing.
The horn was blown as usual, and we went up from the field to the house
for breakfast. I went for the form, more than for want of any thing to
eat that morning. Just as I got to the house, in looking out at the
lane gate, I saw four white men, with two colored men. The white men
were on horseback, and the colored ones were walking behind, as if
tied. I watched them a few moments till they got up to our lane gate.
Here they halted, and tied the colored men to the gate-post. I was not
yet certain as to what the matter was. In a few moments, in rode Mr.
Hamilton, with a speed betokening great excitement. He came to the
door, and inquired if Master William was in. He was told he was at the
barn. Mr. Hamilton, without dismounting, rode up to the barn with
extraordinary speed. In a few moments, he and Mr. Freeland returned to
the house. By this time, the three constables rode up, and in great
haste dismounted, tied their horses, and met Master William and Mr.
Hamilton returning from the barn; and after talking awhile, they all
walked up to the kitchen door. There was no one in the kitchen but
myself and John. Henry and Sandy were up at the barn. Mr. Freeland put
his head in at the door, and called me by name, saying, there were some
gentlemen at the door who wished to see me. I stepped to the door, and
inquired what they wanted. They at once seized me, and, without giving
me any satisfaction, tied me—lashing my hands closely together. I
insisted upon knowing what the matter was. They at length said, that
they had learned I had been in a “scrape,” and that I was to be
examined before my master; and if their information proved false, I
should not be hurt.
In a few moments, they succeeded in tying John. They then turned to
Henry, who had by this time returned, and commanded him to cross his
hands. “I won’t!” said Henry, in a firm tone, indicating his readiness
to meet the consequences of his refusal. “Won’t you?” said Tom Graham,
the constable. “No, I won’t!” said Henry, in a still stronger tone.
With this, two of the constables pulled out their shining pistols, and
swore, by their Creator, that they would make him cross his hands or
kill him. Each cocked his pistol, and, with fingers on the trigger,
walked up to Henry, saying, at the same time, if he did not cross his
hands, they would blow his damned heart out. “Shoot me, shoot me!” said
Henry; “you can’t kill me but once. Shoot, shoot,—and be damned! _I
won’t be tied!_” This he said in a tone of loud defiance; and at the
same time, with a motion as quick as lightning, he with one single
stroke dashed the pistols from the hand of each constable. As he did
this, all hands fell upon him, and, after beating him some time, they
finally overpowered him, and got him tied.
During the scuffle, I managed, I know not how, to get my pass out, and,
without being discovered, put it into the fire. We were all now tied;
and just as we were to leave for Easton jail, Betsy Freeland, mother of
William Freeland, came to the door with her hands full of biscuits, and
divided them between Henry and John. She then delivered herself of a
speech, to the following effect:—addressing herself to me, she said,
“_You devil! You yellow devil!_ it was you that put it into the heads
of Henry and John to run away. But for you, you long-legged mulatto
devil! Henry nor John would never have thought of such a thing.” I made
no reply, and was immediately hurried off towards St. Michael’s. Just a
moment previous to the scuffle with Henry, Mr. Hamilton suggested the
propriety of making a search for the protections which he had
understood Frederick had written for himself and the rest. But, just at
the moment he was about carrying his proposal into effect, his aid was
needed in helping to tie Henry; and the excitement attending the
scuffle caused them either to forget, or to deem it unsafe, under the
circumstances, to search. So we were not yet convicted of the intention
to run away.
When we got about half way to St. Michael’s, while the constables
having us in charge were looking ahead, Henry inquired of me what he
should do with his pass. I told him to eat it with his biscuit, and own
nothing; and we passed the word around, “_Own nothing;_” and “_Own
nothing!_” said we all. Our confidence in each other was unshaken. We
were resolved to succeed or fail together, after the calamity had
befallen us as much as before. We were now prepared for any thing. We
were to be dragged that morning fifteen miles behind horses, and then
to be placed in the Easton jail. When we reached St. Michael’s, we
underwent a sort of examination. We all denied that we ever intended to
run away. We did this more to bring out the evidence against us, than
from any hope of getting clear of being sold; for, as I have said, we
were ready for that. The fact was, we cared but little where we went,
so we went together. Our greatest concern was about separation. We
dreaded that more than any thing this side of death. We found the
evidence against us to be the testimony of one person; our master would
not tell who it was; but we came to a unanimous decision among
ourselves as to who their informant was. We were sent off to the jail
at Easton. When we got there, we were delivered up to the sheriff, Mr.
Joseph Graham, and by him placed in jail. Henry, John, and myself, were
placed in one room together—Charles, and Henry Bailey, in another.
Their object in separating us was to hinder concert.
We had been in jail scarcely twenty minutes, when a swarm of slave
traders, and agents for slave traders, flocked into jail to look at us,
and to ascertain if we were for sale. Such a set of beings I never saw
before! I felt myself surrounded by so many fiends from perdition. A
band of pirates never looked more like their father, the devil. They
laughed and grinned over us, saying, “Ah, my boys! we have got you,
haven’t we?” And after taunting us in various ways, they one by one
went into an examination of us, with intent to ascertain our value.
They would impudently ask us if we would not like to have them for our
masters. We would make them no answer, and leave them to find out as
best they could. Then they would curse and swear at us, telling us that
they could take the devil out of us in a very little while, if we were
only in their hands.
While in jail, we found ourselves in much more comfortable quarters
than we expected when we went there. We did not get much to eat, nor
that which was very good; but we had a good clean room, from the
windows of which we could see what was going on in the street, which
was very much better than though we had been placed in one of the dark,
damp cells. Upon the whole, we got along very well, so far as the jail
and its keeper were concerned. Immediately after the holidays were
over, contrary to all our expectations, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Freeland
came up to Easton, and took Charles, the two Henrys, and John, out of
jail, and carried them home, leaving me alone. I regarded this
separation as a final one. It caused me more pain than any thing else
in the whole transaction. I was ready for any thing rather than
separation. I supposed that they had consulted together, and had
decided that, as I was the whole cause of the intention of the others
to run away, it was hard to make the innocent suffer with the guilty;
and that they had, therefore, concluded to take the others home, and
sell me, as a warning to the others that remained. It is due to the
noble Henry to say, he seemed almost as reluctant at leaving the prison
as at leaving home to come to the prison. But we knew we should, in all
probability, be separated, if we were sold; and since he was in their
hands, he concluded to go peaceably home.
I was now left to my fate. I was all alone, and within the walls of a
stone prison. But a few days before, and I was full of hope. I expected
to have been safe in a land of freedom; but now I was covered with
gloom, sunk down to the utmost despair. I thought the possibility of
freedom was gone. I was kept in this way about one week, at the end of
which, Captain Auld, my master, to my surprise and utter astonishment,
came up, and took me out, with the intention of sending me, with a
gentleman of his acquaintance, into Alabama. But, from some cause or
other, he did not send me to Alabama, but concluded to send me back to
Baltimore, to live again with his brother Hugh, and to learn a trade.
Thus, after an absence of three years and one month, I was once more
permitted to return to my old home at Baltimore. My master sent me
away, because there existed against me a very great prejudice in the
community, and he feared I might be killed.
In a few weeks after I went to Baltimore, Master Hugh hired me to Mr.
William Gardner, an extensive ship-builder, on Fell’s Point. I was put
there to learn how to calk. It, however, proved a very unfavorable
place for the accomplishment of this object. Mr. Gardner was engaged
that spring in building two large man-of-war brigs, professedly for the
Mexican government. The vessels were to be launched in the July of that
year, and in failure thereof, Mr. Gardner was to lose a considerable
sum; so that when I entered, all was hurry. There was no time to learn
any thing. Every man had to do that which he knew how to do. In
entering the shipyard, my orders from Mr. Gardner were, to do whatever
the carpenters commanded me to do. This was placing me at the beck and
call of about seventy-five men. I was to regard all these as masters.
Their word was to be my law. My situation was a most trying one. At
times I needed a dozen pair of hands. I was called a dozen ways in the
space of a single minute. Three or four voices would strike my ear at
the same moment. It was—“Fred., come help me to cant this timber
here.”—“Fred., come carry this timber yonder.”—“Fred., bring that
roller here.”—“Fred., go get a fresh can of water.”—“Fred., come help
saw off the end of this timber.”—“Fred., go quick, and get the
crowbar.”—“Fred., hold on the end of this fall.”—“Fred., go to the
blacksmith’s shop, and get a new punch.”—“Hurra, Fred! run and bring me
a cold chisel.”—“I say, Fred., bear a hand, and get up a fire as quick
as lightning under that steam-box.”—“Halloo, nigger! come, turn this
grindstone.”—“Come, come! move, move! and _bowse_ this timber
forward.”—“I say, darky, blast your eyes, why don’t you heat up some
pitch?”—“Halloo! halloo! halloo!” (Three voices at the same time.)
“Come here!—Go there!—Hold on where you are! Damn you, if you move,
I’ll knock your brains out!”
This was my school for eight months; and I might have remained there
longer, but for a most horrid fight I had with four of the white
apprentices, in which my left eye was nearly knocked out, and I was