Scenes in the Life of Harriet Tubman
attention to them. At another time, we find her nursing those who were
down by hundreds with small-pox and malignant fevers. She had never had
these diseases, but she seems to have no more fear of death in one form
than another. "De Lord would take keer of her till her time came, an'
den she was ready to go."
When our armies and gun-boats first appeared in any part of the South,
many of the poor negroes were as much afraid of "de Yankee Buckra" as
of their own masters. It was almost impossible to win their confidence,
or to get information from them. But to Harriet they would tell
anything; and so it became quite important that she should accompany
expeditions going up the rivers, or into unexplored parts of the
country, to control and get information from those whom they took with
them as guides.
Gen. Hunter asked her at one time if she would go with several gun-boats
up the Combahee River, the object of the expedition being to take up the
torpedoes placed by the rebels in the river, to destroy railroads and
bridges, and to cut off supplies from the rebel troops. She said she
would go if Col. Montgomery was to be appointed commander of the
expedition. Col. Montgomery was one of John Brown's men, and was well
known to Harriet. Accordingly, Col. Montgomery was appointed to the
command, and Harriet, with several men under her, the principal of whom
was J. Plowden, whose pass I have, accompanied the expedition. Harriet
describes in the most graphic manner the appearance of the plantations
as they passed up the river; the frightened negroes leaving their work
and taking to the woods, at sight of the gun-boats; then coming to peer
out like startled deer, and scudding away like the wind at the sound of
the steam-whistle. "Well," said one old negro, "Mas'r said de Yankees
had horns and tails, but I nebber beliebed it till now." But the word
was passed along by the mysterious telegraphic communication existing
among these simple people, that these were "Lincoln's gun-boats come to
set them free." In vain, then, the drivers used their whips, in their
efforts to hurry the poor creatures back to their quarters; they all
turned and ran for the gun-boats. They came down every road, across
every field, just as they had left their work and their cabins; women
with children clinging around their necks, hanging to their dresses,
running behind, all making at full speed for "Lincoln's gun-boats."
Eight hundred poor wretches at one time crowded the banks, with their
hands extended towards their deliverers, and they were all taken off
upon the gun-boats, and carried down to Beaufort.
"I nebber see such a sight," said Harriet; "we laughed, an' laughed, an'
laughed. Here you'd see a woman wid a pail on her head, rice a smokin'
in it jus as she'd taken it from de fire, young one hangin' on behind,
one han' roun' her forehead to hold on, 'tother han' diggin' into de
rice-pot, eatin' wid all its might; hold of her dress two or three more;
down her back a bag wid a pig in it. One woman brought two pigs, a
white one, an' a black one; we took 'em all on board; named de white pig
Beauregard, an' de black pig Jeff Davis. Sometimes de women would come
wid twins hangin' roun' der necks; 'pears like I nebber see so many
twins in my life; bags on der shoulders, baskets on der heads, and young
ones taggin' behin', all loaded; pigs squealin', chickens screamin',
young ones squallin'." And so they came pouring down to the gun-boats.
When they stood on the shore, and the small boats put out to take them
off, they all wanted to get in at once. After the boats were crowded,
they would hold on to them so that they could not leave the shore. The
oarsmen would beat them on their hands, but they would not let go; they
were afraid the gun-boats would go off and leave them, and all wanted to
make sure of one of these arks of refuge. At length Col. Montgomery
shouted from the upper deck, above the clamor of appealing tones,
"Moses, you'll have to give 'em a song." Then Harriet lifted up her
voice and sang:
"Of all the whole creation in the east or in the west,
The glorious Yankee nation is the greatest and the best,
Come along! Come along! don't be alarmed,
Uncle Sam is rich enough to give you all a farm."
At the end of every verse, the negroes in their enthusiasm would throw
up their hands and shout "Glory," and the row-boats would take that
opportunity to push off; and so at last they were all brought on board.
The masters fled; houses and barns and railroad bridges were burned,
tracks torn up, torpedoes destroyed, and the expedition was in all
respects successful.
This fearless woman was often sent into the rebel lines as a spy, and
brought back valuable information as to the position of armies and
batteries; she has been in battle when the shot was falling like hail,
and the bodies of dead and wounded men were dropping around her like
leaves in autumn; but the thought of fear never seems to have had place
for a moment in her mind. She had her duty to perform, and she expected
to be taken care of till it was done.
Would that instead of taking them in this poor way at second-hand, my
readers could hear this woman's graphic accounts of scenes she herself
witnessed, could listen to her imitations of negro preachers in their
own very peculiar dialect, her singing of camp-meeting hymns, her
account of "experience meetings," her imitations of the dances, and the
funeral ceremonies of these simple people. "Why, der language down dar
in de far South is jus' as different from ours in Maryland, as you can
think," said she. "Dey laughed when dey heard me talk, an' I could not
understand dem, no how." She described a midnight funeral which she
attended; for the slaves, never having been allowed to bury their dead
in the day time, continued the custom of night funerals from habit.
The corpse was laid upon the ground, and the people all sat round, the
group being lighted up by pine torches.
The old negro preacher began by giving out a hymn, which was sung by
all. "An' oh! I wish you could hear 'em sing, Missus," said Harriet.
"Der voices is so sweet, and dey can sing eberyting we sing, an' den dey
can sing a great many hymns dat we can't nebber catch at all."
The old preacher began his sermon by pointing to the dead man, who lay
in a rude box on the ground before him.
"_Shum?_ Ded-a-de-dah! _Shum, David?_ Ded-a-de-dah! Now I want you all
to _flec'_ for moment. Who ob all dis congregation is gwine next to lie
ded-a-de-dah? You can't go nowheres, my frien's and bredren, but Deff'll
fin' you. You can't dig no hole so deep an' bury yourself dar, but God
A'mighty's far-seein' eye'll fine you, an' Deff'll come arter you. You
can't go into that big fort (pointing to Hilton Head), an' shut
yourself up dar; dat fort dat Sesh Buckner said de debil couldn't take,
but Deff'll fin' you dar. All your frien's may forget you, but Deff'll
nebber forget you. Now, my bredren, prepare to lie ded-a-de-dah!"
This was the burden of a very long sermon, after which the whole
congregation went round in a sort of solemn dance, called the "spiritual
shuffle," shaking hands with each other, and calling each other by name
as they sang:
My sis'r Mary's boun' to go;
My sis'r Nanny's boun' to go;
My brudder Tony's boun' to go;
My brudder July's boun' to go.
This to the same tune, till every hand had been shaken by every one of
the company. When they came to Harriet, who was a stranger, they sang:
Eberybody's boun' to go!
The body was then placed in a Government wagon, and by the light of the
pine torches, the strange, dark procession moved along, singing a rude
funeral hymn, till they reached the place of burial.
Harriet's account of her interview with an old negro she met at Hilton
Head, is amusing and interesting. He said, "I'd been yere seventy-three
years, workin' for my master widout even a dime wages. I'd worked
rain-wet sun dry. I'd worked wid my mouf full of dust, but would not
stop to get a drink of water. I'd been whipped, an' starved, an' I was
always prayin', 'Oh! Lord, come an' delibber us!' All dat time de birds
had been flyin', an' de rabens had been cryin', and de fish had been
sunnin' in de waters. One day I look up, an' I see a big cloud; it
didn't come up like as de clouds come out far yonder, but it 'peared to
be right ober head. Der was tunders out of dat, an' der was lightnin's.
Den I looked down on de water, an' I see, 'peared to me a big house in
de water, an' out of de big house came great big eggs, and de good eggs
went on trou' de air, an' fell into de fort; an' de bad eggs burst
before dey got dar. Den de Sesh Buckra begin to run, an de neber stop
running till de git to de swamp, an' de stick dar an' de die dar. Den I
heard 'twas the Yankee ship[1] firin' out de big eggs, an dey had come
to set us free. Den I praise de Lord. He come an' put he little finger
in de work, an' dey Sesh Buckra all go; and de birds stop flyin', and de
rabens stop cryin', an' when I go to catch a fish to eat wid my rice,
de's no fish dar. De Lord A'mighty'd come and frightened 'em all out of
de waters. Oh! Praise de Lord! I'd prayed seventy-three years, an' now
he's come an' we's all free."
The last time Harriet was returning from the war, with her pass as
hospital nurse, she bought a half-fare ticket, as she was told she must
do; and missing the other train, she got into an emigrant train on the
Amboy Railroad. When the conductor looked at her ticket, he said, "Come,
hustle out of here! We don't carry niggers for half-fare." Harriet
explained to him that she was in the employ of Government, and was
entitled to transportation as the soldiers were. But the conductor took
her forcibly by the arm, and said, "I'll make you tired of trying to
stay here." She resisted, and being very strong, she could probably have
got the better of the conductor, had he not called three men to his
assistance. The car was filled with emigrants, and no one seemed to take
her part. The only words she heard, accompanied with fearful oaths,
were, "Pitch the nagur out!" They nearly wrenched her arm off, and at
length threw her, with all their strength, into a baggage-car. She
supposed her arm was broken, and in intense suffering she came on to New
York. As she left the car, a delicate-looking young man came up to her,
and, handing her a card, said, "You ought to sue that conductor, and if
you want a witness, call on me." Harriet remained all winter under the
care of a physician in New York; he advised her to sue the Railroad
company, and said that he would willingly testify as to her injuries.
But the card the young man had given her was only a visiting card, and
she did not know where to find him, and so she let the matter go.
The writer here finds it necessary to apologize for the very desultory
and hasty manner in which this little book is written. Being herself
pressed for time, in the expectation of soon leaving the country, she is
obliged to pen down the material to be used in the short and interrupted
interviews she can obtain with Harriet, and also to use such letters and
accounts as may be sent her, as they come, without being able to work
them in, in the order of time. A very material assistance is to be
rendered her by the kind offer of an account of Harriet's services
during the war, written by Mr. Charles P. Wood, of Auburn, and kindly
copied by one of Harriet's most faithful and most efficient friends,
Mrs. S. M. Hopkins, of that place.
It was a wise plan of our sagacious heroine to leave her old parents
till the last to be brought away. They were pensioned off as too old to
work, had a cabin, and a horse and cow, and were quite comfortable. If