The Bondwoman's Narrative (38 page)

That day we busied ourselves in carrying brush and stones to fill up the entrance of the hut in which she lay, and the next
morning resumed our tramp.

I have never seen the righteous forsaken.

Jacob and myself traveled many days together, but strange to say he had not penetrated my disguise. He learned to love me,
however, as a younger brother, and his society and gentle care greatly relieved the difficulties of our toilsome journey.
When we encamped for the night he would insist on my setting down to rest, while he went off to look for food, though when
compelled by necessity to approach the habitations of men it devolved on me as his color made him obnoxious to suspicion.
To avoid observation we sometimes traveled all night,
but rested through the day
and then concealed ourselves in dens, and hollows, and caverns through the day. We scaled mountains, and crossed rivers.
The latter was easily accomplished. We lingered near some small village, or fisherman’s hut till night-fall, and then when
all was silent and the “wee small hours” had commenced their march, a boat could readily be found. Ferrying ourselves over
we set it adrift and proceeded on our way. An adventure of this kind, however, proved fatal to my companion, and
had
well nigh to me.

It was near night when we reached the borders of a narrow stream, that ran among rocks with a very strong current. Jacob,
as
usual remained concealed in the friendly shelter of a thick pine grove, while I went out to reconnoitre, and select some
place for crossing, besides ascertaining where a boat could be procured. As there were no signs of a human habitation, we
went traveled much farther down in the hope of finding one, as with that contingency was associated a certainty of obtaining
a boat.

It was near midnight to judge from the aspect of the stars, when we discovered a dark object looming in the distance. As we
approached a light was seen gleaming for a moment apparently from
one of the
a window, and we heard the cries of a child. Fearing to alarm the inmates of the cabin, it was some time before we ventured
to look for a boat. There was a dim star-light, and the trees along the bank afforded an admirable shelter. At length we found
the boat half-hidden in a little clump of willows, and Jacob proceeded to loosen it. Just then the light flared brightly up,
the cries of the child were redoubled, and a fierce dog roused from his slumbers by the noise rushed upon us with a deep yell.
As we sprang into the boat we heard the quick opening and shutting of the cabin door, and the voice of a man encouraging the
mastiff. Then followed a rapid volley of firearms. Jacob gave one groan, dropped his oar and fell down in the bottom of the
boat, which instantly swung around, became unmanageable, and drifted down the stream. The man ran along the bank, shouting
and halloing, calling us boat stealers and all manner of villainous epithets, till exhausting his passion he struck off into
the woods and disappeared.

To depict my consternation and alarm would be impossible. I called the name of my companion; he answered not. I touched his
hand and cheek; they were icy cold. I laid my hand on his bosom; there was no pulsation. The stunning the dreadful truth rushed
upon me with all its force. He was dead, and I, whither was I being carried? I strained my eyes in every direction, but could
see
nothing
only the turgid mass of water slowly heaving and swelling,
with now and then a foundered tree or granite boulder, jutting
far out and breaking its dark bosom into foaming billows. Recommending myself to God I saw
with less anxiety than might be suffered
my boat approaching one of these dangerous spots with less anxiety than might be supposed. It rolled and rocked terribly
whirled around in a foaming eddy, dashed against a rock, and upset. I felt the motion, and knew myself precipitated into the
water, but nothing more. My first sensations of returning consciousness were those of intense pain, and more than mortal weakness.
It was more like the nightmare of sleep than any thing else to which I can compare it. A noise of rushing waters was in my
ears, a dreadful sense of suffocation oppressed me, and I struggled wildly and fiercely struggled to shake it off.

Gradually and by degrees I became sensible of my condition, and that the water was still dashing over my lower extremities.
The instinct of self[-]preservation prompted me to crawl up higher on the bank, where the sun shone brightly, and I remember
experiencing a vague impression that the generous warmth of his beams would restore my torpid and benum[b]ed limbs to their
natural exercise. I was soon recovered sufficiently to look around, when I ascertained that the branches of a fallen tree,
into which I had been washed by the eddying waves had saved me under Providence from a violent death. While breathing out
my gratitude to Him, who holds the waters in the hollow of his Hand, and wondering for what wise purpose I had been preserved
I heard the sound of approaching footsteps and presently a woman bending with age and infirmity drew near. Her benignant countenance
inspired me with hope, and when she was passing without discovering me I called to her.

“Mother, good mother.”

She stopped, turned around in great surprise, and with something of alarm, saying “Who calls me?”

I knew the voice, though I had not recognised the countenance. It was that of my old friend, Aunt Hetty.
Of course she failed to recognise me through my singular disguise
Tears of joy ran down my cheeks, while I revealed my name and circumstances to the venerable dame, and when she learned that
I was really the Hannah whom she had taught to read, and instructed in the truths of Christianity at Lindendale, her happiness
fully equaled mine.

“But where have you come from, dear? and what is the meaning of this disguise?” she inquired. “But stop” she continued when
I opened my lips to speak. “Don’t tell me a word till you are properly cared for. How came your garments so wet? and why are
you so weak?” and then she laughed at herself for asking
me
questions when she had forbidden my answering them.

“I will tell you all, dear Aunt Hetty; everything, but not now” I whispered, for a strange sensation of faintness overpowered
me. She observed it.

“You have suffered, dear” she said tenderly, drawing my head to her bosom, as she sate [sat] beside me.

But the sickness passed off, and I did not faint.

“You must go home with me” she continued. “You can rest there and recruit your strength. I have nothing grand or elegant to
offer you yet better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox, and hatred therewith.”

“Dear Aunt Hetty, you have suffered much for my sake already, I fear to be the means of your suffering more.”

“We will see to that” she answered tenderly “can you walk?”

I attempted to rise, but fell back, again overpowered by a mortal faintness.

“I see how it is” she said encouragingly. “You require nourishment. Have you eaten lately.”

“Not since yesterday morning, and then only a few berries.”

“Heaven help the child, no wonder you are weak; indeed it
would be a wonder if you wasn’t. And now” she continued [“]I will
leave you here for awhile, and go to get you some food, and procure a conveyance to take you to my house, but of one thing
I must warn you. Be careful not to betray to these people our former acquaintance, or to let them into the secret of your
former life.”

“No Aunt Hetty” I replied. “Your scheme does not appear to me a feasible one. Let me say or do as I will their suspicions
will be excited, because doubt and suspicion is natural to man. Procure me the food you think I require, but mention to no
one the fact of my existence, rather assist me to remove to some place of concealment, where I can wait to recover my strength,
unnoticed and alone. It will probably be but a few hours.”

“Perhaps that would be best” she answered thoughtfully. [“]My home is but a little way hence. I can soon go there and return.[”]
I watched her disappearing figure with the liveliest emotions, and felt that I could never be sufficiently grateful to that
over ruling Providence, who by such eventful and devious ways had led me to the bosom of my old friend.

The old lady soon returned with such food as she thought most proper for my exhausted state. I ate only a little, yet felt
strengthened and revived.

“My dear Aunt Hetty, what do I not owe you?” I said kissing her hand, and bathing it with my tears.

“Nothing to me; everything to the Lord Jesus” she replied solemnly.

I soon felt comfortable, and began to be strong more like my former self. Then I sate [sat] up, and we talked about many things.
I must give her the history of my life, and she must relate to me all that befell her and Uncle Siah. How Mr Vincent’s overseer
caused them to be conveyed to jail for violation of the statute that forbade the instruction of slaves. How they remained
there several weeks, and found like Paul and Silas of old that bonds and imprisonment
when unjustly suffered might even be
the means of spiritual consolation and improvement. How an old friend and distant relative passing through the village heard
of their detention, and by long earnest solicitation of the proper authorities combined with the liberal use of money succeeded
in liberating them removed them to his estate, where he appropriated a small house and regular monthly stipend of money and
provisions to their necessities. Uncle Siah she told me had recently departed to that good land where the just receive their
reward and consequently she dwelt alone with the companionship of one little girl. Her habitation was situated near a small
village of miners, but she could not tolerate their rude and profane habits, and so had neither connection nor association
with them. One woman only, a widow like herself, distinguished for piety and good works ever came to her house or received
her visits in return, excepting of course the family of her friend and relative.

That night after dark when the village
had become silent
became silent she led me to her home. It was a neat little cottage, tidy and comfortable, with a bright fire glowing on the
hearth near which was placed for my especial benefit a large well-cushioned rocking chair. Anna, the little girl was bustling
about in all the dignity and importance of incipient womanhood preparing tea. She was much older than she seemed; her petite
figure and round rosy face giving her a look of childishness not often seen in one of her years. Like small people generally
she was very active, very straight, and very impulsive, and I could scarcely help smiling to see the flush that mounted instantaneously
to her face, when Aunt Hetty persisted in addressing her as “little girl.”

I remained with this good venerable friend several weeks and then the flight of time admonished me that it was necessary to
be moving again, as my journey was not yet accomplished, and it was impossible to feel anything like a sense of security while
remaining
in a slave-state. Greatly as I feared discovery on my own account, I feared it no less on that of my friend. I well
knew that the charge of concealing and feeding a fugitive slave would be a serious one, and involve her in great difficulties.
Agre[e]ably to her advice, moreover, I determined to somewhat change my plan. She insisted that I should resume female attire,
and travel by public conveyances, as she conceived so much time had elapsed and I was so far from the scene of my escape that
I could do so with perfect safety. She said that she never would consent for me to leave her on any other terms, that she
should never enjoy another moment’s peace if she permitted me to go forth again a wanderer, to seek shelter in dens and caves
of the earth. She likewise proposed that I should find refuge among the colored inhabitants of New Jersey, as thereby my journey
would be proportionately shortened, and I would escape the extreme cold of Canadian winters. In order to facilitate acquaintance,
and assist me in getting employment, she prepared letters of introduction to various persons whom she had known in former
times as friends of the slave, though she expressed apprehension that they were removed or dead.

Yeilding my plans to
hers
what seemed the superior feasibility of hers the good old woman supplied me with female apparel, and also with the means
of prosecuting my journey in an expeditious manner. At first I declined taking her silver, but she pressed it upon me saying
that she had been saving it little by little for a long time, purposely to bestow it on some one in poorer circumstances than
herself, that it would give her great pain if I persisted in refusing her bounty,
and
as it would comparatively increase her happiness if I accepted it. I could refuse no longer, but with emotions of gratitude
I should vainly attempt to express I took the proffered gift.

Say to the wicked it shall be ill with him, for he shall eat the fruit of his doings.

B
IBLE

With many tears I bade adieu to Aunt Hetty—tears of gratitude and sorrow and reverential affection. Farther down the river
was a steamboat landing and my preparations being complete she accompanied me thither, and saw me safe on board. Our farewell
was a mute impassioned silence deeper and more expressive to the heart than any words could have been. I gazed long and earnestly,
my eyes blinded with tears, at her retreating figure, and then at then [sic] at the spot where she disappeared till the ringing
of the bell, the puffing of the steam, and the rocking motion of the boat gave warning that
we were underweigh
we were passing down the river. I felt very lonely and desolate, and there is no desolation so deep as that you feel when
surrounded by a crowd with whom you have no sympathies in common. There was conviviality and laughter among the passengers,
there was eating, drinking and talking, there was [sic] babies crying, mothers coaxing, and fathers smoking. I endeavored
to interest myself in what was passing around me, but could not till a couple of gentlemen who were sitting near me, mentioned
a name that thrilled through ever nerve of my body. In an instant I was all attention, and when they spoke of a
violent death
and assassination I felt how true it is that “evenhanded justice returns the ingredients of the poisoned chalice to our own
lips.”