A Woman's Life-Work-Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland Part 10

But the slave-hunters were still so numerous, it was thought best to dress her up for another walk, and I took her to a family near Fourteenth Street, and wrote a letter in Maria's name to her master, dated it ahead, and from Windsor, Canada West, and sent it enclosed in a letter to a friend at that place, with directions to mail it to the master at the date I had given. Maria informed her master Champlin that Canada was not the cold barren country he had always told her it was, for they raised great fields of corn, and potatoes, peas and beans, and everything she saw in Kentucky; and that she had found the best of friends ever since she left home, and signed her name.

In less than two weeks Kitty Darun's niece came in great haste to inform us that "Champlin had got poor Maria, and Aunt Kitty is nearly crying her eyes out over the sad news that a colored man brought over last night."

"That is all a mistake."

"Oh, no, it's no mistake, for that colored man worked near White Hall yesterday, and he said the report was just flying."

I hushed her loud words, and whispered, "I can take you to Maria in ten minutes, I know just where she is."

"Are you _sure_, and may I go tell Aunt Kitty?"

"Go and whisper it, for there are but few friends who know she is still in the city, because of the close search made for her, that is still kept up."

The next day she came to us with another story, "That he didn't get Maria, but got a letter from her in Canada. And that was the current report."

I told her, "I understood that too, and would tell her all within a few weeks."

The result of this letter was a withdrawal of all the hired hunters within twenty-four hours, and during three days' quiet two young men came from a few miles distant across the river, who got the privilege of a holiday, and of spending it nearly ten miles farther from the river than was their home. As they left the night before, they would have until the next morning before being missed.

As Cazy (one of our vigilance committee) came before sunrise to inform us of the new arrival, Catharine Coffin came to my bed-room and gave me a call: "Come, Laura, here are more runaways; Cazy is here and they want thee." In less than five minutes there were four of us to decide on the plan of securing the newcomers and the one on our hands. "What shall we do? Our funds are out, we haven't a dime in our treasury,"

said Cozy.

"We must get enough to take then; two young men and Maria out as far as the Stubbs settlement to-night," I replied; "for you see all is quiet now over Maria, and by to-morrow the city will fill up again with slave-hunters."

"That is what I told Cazy before thou came in; but he says he has a job on his hands he can not leave," said Levi.

"Where Is Hughes?"

"I don't believe I could get him to leave his work to see to it; but may be he'll go for you," wild Cazy.

"I'll try." And throwing on my shawl and bonnet, called on Hughes, and told him he must go and take Maria and two young men who had just arrived this morning.

"But what can we do without money?"

"I'll get it to-day. What amount is wanting?"

"It will take eight dollars to hire a close carriage and team to go thirty miles to-night, and I must be back to my work by eight o'clock tomorrow morning."

"I'll have that ready before night."

"Then I'll call at Uncle Levis's at noon, and see whether you are sure of success in getting the money; then I will call at the livery on my return to my work and engage the carriage and team, to be ready by seven and a half o'clock this evening."

When he called at noon I had four dollars in money and a traveling suit for Maria, and knew just where I could get the balance. Now for the plan of starting. I told him he must manage the two men and I would manage for Maria. "But there are two toll-gates that are closely watched for colored people, and I want you to go with us past those gates, as two white persons in front would pa.s.s the load; not seeing any colored people, they would make no inquiries. As Catherine's health was poor, and cholera was raging in the city, she was not willing I should remain away over night, and Levi secured William Beckley to follow us a little distance behind until we had pa.s.sed those gates, when I was to return with him. The carriage, with our company, was to be driven up Central Avenue as far as the orphan asylum, and halt for Maria and myself; and as he pa.s.sed the street she was on, Hughes was to take out his white pocket handkerchief and wipe his face, while William Fuller, at whose house Maria was secreted, was to walk on the street at the time appointed to watch for the signal; when discovered, as he turned toward the house, we were to step out on the street, and walk the half block where our carriage was in waiting."

But in this we found it necessary to adopt my old rule of being carelessly careful, as there were Kentuckians in their rented houses each side of William Fuller's, and they were overheard to say three days before, that they believed they had "n.i.g.g.e.rs hid at Fuller's, for the blinds in the second story hadn't been opened in two weeks." The weather being warm, and the rising of the full moon, and their next door neighbors sitting on their front porches, all combined to bring us into full view. As we were watching for the moment to start Maria took up her bundle of clothes; but I told her the least appearance, aside from common callers, would create suspicion, and we must send them after her. "But they's all I got, an' I will never see 'em ag'in," said Maria, sorrowfully.

"But your liberty is of more value than a cart load of clothes."

"Oh, yes, I knows it; but I can't even change."

"Hand them to me," and they were opened and tightly rolled into the shape of a six months' baby in a trice; and, as I rolled it in a shawl, I said, "I'll carry the baby myself." The watchful wife says, "William is turning back, and I will walk to the corner with you." As we reached the gate, the neighbors in full view, sister Fuller's little girl called, "Mamma, I want to see the baby; I didn't know that woman had a baby." The frightened mother tried to hush her in a smothered voice, that I feared would betray her excitement. "Let her go with us, mother," said I. "But auntie hasn't time now to let little sis see the baby; wait till next time we call, because we are late, and our folks will be waiting for us." And as we leisurely walked along, sister Fuller invited us to come another time to make a longer call.

After turning the corner, our sister and little girl left us, and we quickened our pace to the carriage we saw in waiting. Friend Hughes stood by the hitching-post, but looked wild with excitement when he saw me turn to the carriage, as he knew there was no baby aboard; and as he had hitched in a darker place than near the entrance, he did not recognize us. But as I gave my baby a toss in the carriage, saying, "This is part of our company; take care of my baby," he recognized my voice. "O, yes; this is one of your tricks." Soon we were seated, and on our way. We pa.s.sed the two fearful gates with a sharp look by each keeper, and half a mile beyond I proposed to return; but friend Hughes said there was a short piece of woods ahead to pa.s.s through, then the coast would be clear the balance of the way, and he would rather I would go through the woods with them. Just before entering the grove we heard the loud talking, singing, and laughing of ten or a dozen men we were going to meet.

As this boisterous company appeared before us, Hughes turned to the two men behind us, and said, "Are your pistols ready?"

"Yes, sah;" and each took from his own pocket a six-shooter.

"Boys, if those men attempt to take our horses by the bits, and I say, _Fire!_ will you do it?"

"Yes, sah."

Said I, "Hughes, be careful, be careful. Your excitement will betray us if you are not _very careful_."

"We don't know what rabble we are going to meet, and I propose to be ready fur 'em."

"There is nothing known of this company, and I know we are safe."

"I don't know it; and if they make the first move to stop us, be ready, boys."

"All ready."

There were two six-shooters behind me, and one in the hand of Hughes, that I feared much more than all the slave-holders in Kentucky.

But we were soon relieved by the remark of one, as we were pa.s.sing, "It was well we stopped that bent from falling, or't would have killed Smith as dead as a hammer." We found by this that they had been to the raising of a building, and a number of them were more than half drunk.

After going a mile or two farther, and our excitement was over, I took leave of our company, with a charge to keep quiet and all would be well, and returned to Levi Coffin's by twelve o'clock. The following morning we received a good report from our conductor, Hughes, of the safe delivery of this valuable freight in the Quaker settlement depot, where they were forwarded to Canada.

CHAPTER VI.

FUGITIVE SLAVES a.s.sISTED.

The exciting intelligence reached us that Clara and her three little ones were about to be captured by slave-holders in the city, on Pearl Street. I called on her at once, and found the house was surrounded the night before by strangers, who were followed to a hotel, and on the record the name of her master's son was found. Poor woman! She had pa.s.sed through great suffering in making her escape with her two children; a third was born in Cincinnati--yet it too must share the antic.i.p.ated fate of its mother. She had always been a house-servant, but found the death of her master was about to make great changes, he being deeply in debt. By the aid of a chambermaid she was secreted on a boat, and kept the two children drugged with opiates until she feared they would never come to life. But after her arrival, under the care of a skillful physician, they survived. She had found good friends among her own people and Church two years. I found her weeping, with the two youngest in her arms, the oldest sitting on a stool at her feet. With fast-falling tears she kissed her babes. "O ma's precious darlings, how can I spare you!" I told her if her master did not come for her until it was dark enough to conceal her, arrangements were made to come for her with a close carriage, to take them out of the city to a place of safety.

"I reckon you can't save us," she sobbed.

I told her we would pray the Lord, who knew all her deep sorrow, to open the way for us.

"Yes, I cried mightily to him to help me out o' that dark land back yonder, and it 'peared like he did bring me out; but if I had stuck closer to him I reckon he'd kep' me from this hard trial;" and fresh tears freely flowed.

With my hands on her shoulders, my tears mingled with hers. In broken sentences, she referred to the separation of her husband when he was sold and taken down the river.

I left her, with a heavy heart, yet strong hope that her young master (as she called him) would be defeated.