The Underground Railroad
three of the men, when, to their great surprise, as they pretended, we
were discovered. The question was then asked the owner of the barn by
one of the men, if he harbored runaway negroes in his barn? He answered,
'No,' and pretended to be entirely ignorant of their being in his barn.
One of the men replied that four negroes were on the mow, and he knew of
it. The men then asked us where we were, going. We told them to
Gettysburg, that we had aunts and a mother there. Also we spoke of a Mr.
Houghman, a gentleman we happened to have some knowledge of, having seen
him in Virginia. We were next asked for our passes. We told them that we
hadn't any, that we had not been required to carry them where we came
from. They then said that we would have to go before a magistrate, and
if he allowed us to go on, well and good. The men all being armed and
furnished with ropes, we were ordered to be tied. I told them if they
took me they would have to take me dead or crippled. At that instant one
of my friends cried out--'Where is the man that betrayed us?' Spying him
at the same moment, he shot him (badly wounding him). Then the conflict
fairly began. The constable seized me by the collar, or rather behind my
shoulder. I at once shot him with my pistol, but in consequence of his
throwing up his arm, which hit mine as I fired, the effect of the load
of my pistol was much turned aside; his face, however, was badly burned,
besides his shoulder being wounded. I again fired on the pursuers, but
do not know whether I hit anybody or not. I then drew a sword, I had
brought with me, and was about cutting my way to the door, when I was
shot by one of the men, receiving the entire contents of one load of a
double barreled gun in my left arm, that being the arm with which I was
defending myself. The load brought me to the ground, and I was unable to
make further struggle for myself. I was then badly beaten with guns, &c.
In the meantime, my friend Craven, who was defending himself, was shot
badly in the face, and most violently beaten until he was conquered and
tied. The two young brothers of Craven stood still, without making the
least resistance. After we were fairly captured, we were taken to
Terrytown, which was in sight of where we were betrayed. By this time I
had lost so much blood from my wounds, that they concluded my situation
was too dangerous to admit of being taken further; so I was made a
prisoner at a tavern, kept by a man named Fisher. There my wounds were
dressed, and thirty-two shot were taken from my arm. For three days I
was crazy, and they thought I would die. During the first two weeks,
while I was a prisoner at the tavern, I raised a great deal of blood,
and was considered in a very dangerous condition--so much so that
persons desiring to see me were not permitted. Afterwards I began to get
better, and was then kept privately--was strictly watched day and night.
Occasionally, however, the cook, a colored woman (Mrs. Smith), would
manage to get to see me. Also James Matthews succeeded in getting to see
me; consequently, as my wounds healed, and my senses came to me, I began
to plan how to make another effort to escape. I asked one of the
friends, alluded to above, to get me a rope. He got it. I kept it about
me four days in my pocket; in the meantime I procured three nails. On
Friday night, October 14th, I fastened my nails in under the window
sill; tied my rope to the nails, threw my shoes out of the window, put
the rope in my mouth, then took hold of it with my well hand, clambered
into the window, very weak, but I managed to let myself down to the
ground. I was so weak, that I could scarcely walk, but I managed to
hobble off to a place three quarters of a mile from the tavern, where a
friend had fixed upon for me to go, if I succeeded in making my escape.
There I was found by my friend, who kept me secure till Saturday eve,
when a swift horse was furnished by James Rogers, and a colored man
found to conduct me to Gettysburg. Instead of going direct to
Gettysburg, we took a different road, in order to shun our pursuers, as
the news of my escape had created general excitement. My three other
companions, who were captured, were sent to Westminster jail, where they
were kept three weeks, and afterwards sent to Baltimore and sold for
twelve hundred dollars a piece, as I was informed while at the tavern in
Terrytown."
The Vigilance Committee procured good medical attention and afforded the
fugitive time for recuperation, furnished him with clothing and a free
ticket, and sent him on his way greatly improved in health, and strong
in the faith that, "He who would be free, himself must strike the blow."
His safe arrival in Canada, with his thanks, were duly announced. And
some time after becoming naturalized, in one of his letters, he wrote
that he was a brakesman on the Great Western R.R., (in Canada--promoted
from the U.G.R.R.,) the result of being under the protection of the
British Lion.
* * * * *
DEATH OF ROMULUS HALL--NEW NAME GEORGE WEEMS.
In March, 1857, Abram Harris fled from John Henry Suthern, who lived
near Benedict, Charles county, Md., where he was engaged in the farming
business, and was the owner of about seventy head of slaves. He kept an
overseer, and usually had flogging administered daily, on males and
females, old and young. Abram becoming very sick of this treatment,
resolved, about the first of March, to seek out the Underground Rail
Road. But for his strong attachment to his wife (who was owned by Samuel
Adams, but was "pretty well treated"), he never would have consented to
suffer as he did.
Here no hope of comfort for the future seemed to remain. So Abram
consulted with a fellow-servant, by the name of Romulus Hall, alias
George Weems, and being very warm friends, concluded to start together.
Both had wives to "tear themselves from," and each was equally ignorant
of the distance they had to travel, and the dangers and sufferings to be
endured. But they "trusted in God" and kept the North Star in view. For
nine days and nights, without a guide, they traveled at a very
exhausting rate, especially as they had to go fasting for three days,
and to endure very cold weather. Abram's companion, being about fifty
years of age, felt obliged to succumb, both from hunger and cold, and
had to be left on the way. Abram was a man of medium size, tall, dark
chestnut color, and could read and write a little and was quite
intelligent; "was a member of the Mount Zion Church," and occasionally
officiated as an "exhorter," and really appeared to be a man of genuine
faith in the Almighty, and equally as much in freedom.
In substance, Abram gave the following information concerning his
knowledge of affairs on the farm under his master--
"Master and mistress very frequently visited the Protestant Church, but
were not members. Mistress was very bad. About three weeks before I
left, the overseer, in a violent fit of bad temper, shot and badly
wounded a young slave man by the name of Henry Waters, but no sooner
than he got well enough he escaped, and had not been heard of up to the
time Abram left. About three years before this happened, an overseer of
my master was found shot dead on the road. At once some of the slaves
were suspected, and were all taken to the Court House, at Serentown, St.
Mary's county; but all came off clear. After this occurrence a new
overseer, by the name of John Decket, was employed. Although his
predecessor had been dead three years, Decket, nevertheless, concluded
that it was not 'too late' to flog the secret out of some of the slaves.
Accordingly, he selected a young slave man for his victim, and flogged
him so cruelly that he could scarcely walk or stand, and to keep from
being actually killed, the boy told an untruth, and confessed that he
and his Uncle Henry killed Webster, the overseer; whereupon the poor
fellow was sent to jail to be tried for his life."
But Abram did not wait to hear the verdict. He reached the Committee
safely in this city, in advance of his companion, and was furnished with
a free ticket and other needed assistance, and was sent on his way
rejoicing. After reaching his destination, he wrote back to know how his
friend and companion (George) was getting along; but in less than three
weeks after he had passed, the following brief story reveals the sad
fate of poor _Romulus Hall_, who had journeyed with him till exhausted
from hunger and badly frost-bitten.
A few days after his younger companion had passed on North, Romulus was
brought by a pitying stranger to the Vigilance Committee, in a most
shocking condition. The frost had made sad havoc with his feet and legs,
so much so that all sense of feeling had departed therefrom.
How he ever reached this city is a marvel. On his arrival medical
attention and other necessary comforts were provided by the Committee,
who hoped with himself, that he would be restored with the loss of his
toes alone. For one week he seemed to be improving; at the expiration of
this time, however, his symptoms changed, indicating not only the end of
slavery, but also the end of all his earthly troubles.
Lockjaw and mortification set in in the most malignant form, and for
nearly thirty-six hours the unfortunate victim suffered in extreme
agony, though not a murmur escaped him for having brought upon himself
in seeking his liberty this painful infliction and death. It was
wonderful to see how resignedly he endured his fate.
Being anxious to get his testimony relative to his escape, etc., the
Chairman of the Committee took his pencil and expressed to him his
wishes in the matter. Amongst other questions, he was asked: "Do you
regret having attempted to escape from slavery?" After a severe spasm he
said, as his friend was about to turn to leave the room, hopeless of
being gratified in his purpose: "Don't go; I have not answered your
question. I am glad I escaped from slavery!" He then gave his name, and
tried to tell the name of his master, but was so weak he could not be
understood.
At his bedside, day and night, Slavery looked more heinous than it had
ever done before. Only think how this poor man, in an enlightened
Christian land, for the bare hope of freedom, in a strange land amongst
strangers, was obliged not only to bear the sacrifice of his wife and
kindred, but also of his own life.
Nothing ever appeared more sad than seeing him in a dying posture, and
instead of reaching his much coveted destination in Canada, going to
that "bourne whence no traveler returns." Of course it was expedient,
even after his death, that only a few friends should follow him to his
grave. Nevertheless, he was decently buried in the beautiful Lebanon
Cemetery.
In his purse was found one single five cent piece, his whole pecuniary
dependence.
This was the first instance of death on the Underground Rail Road in
this region.
The Committee were indebted to the medical services of the well-known
friends of the fugitive, Drs. J.L. Griscom and H.T. Childs, whose
faithful services were freely given; and likewise to Mrs. H.S. Duterte
and Mrs. Williams, who generously performed the offices of charity and
friendship at his burial.
From his companion, who passed on Canada-ward without delay, we received
a letter, from which, as an item of interest, we make the following
extract:
"I am enjoying good health, and hope when this reaches you, you
may be enjoying the same blessing. Give my love to Mr. ----, and
family, and tell them I am in a land of liberty! I am a man
among men!" (The above was addressed to the deceased.)