A Woman's Life-Work-Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland Part 11

At twilight, I called to a.s.sist in getting them ready to jump into the carriage that our friend William Fuller would drive to the door within fifteen minutes; and being ready, we were in the carriage turning the first corner within a minute, and left them in charge of an underground railway agent, who took them on his train as soon as their clothing and pocket-money were forwarded to them, to the great relief of many anxious hearts.

A little past nine o'clock, her master and his posse surrounded the house, and lay in wait until the stillness of the midnight hour was thought most favorable to pounce upon their prey and hurry them to the river, where they had a boat in waiting for them. Then their force was increased, and an entrance demanded. The owner of the house (a colored man) refused admittance without legal authority, although threats of breaking down the door or windows were made; but they were resisted with returning threats of shooting the first man that dared to enter without proper authority. As they were expecting an attack, the women had left their home for the night. The watch was kept around the house until morning approached, when the marshal, with his official papers, was brought to claim Clara and three children. But to their great disappointment, in searching the house, no Clara or children were there. In great rage her master left, swearing vengeance upon him who had kept them in suspense all night when he had spirited them away, for he knew he had harbored his property in his house; but all the reply he received was, "Prove it, if you wish." They got no track of them until they heard from them in Canada.

A fugitive by the name of Jack secreted himself on a large steamer from the lower Mississippi, and left it on landing in Cincinnati. Being so far from his old home, he hired himself as a barber, in which business he was very successful about two years, when his master learned of his whereabouts. He made the acquaintance of a free colored man by the name of Robert Russel, who was an idle, loafish mulatto, sometimes working at little jobs in Cincinnati, and also in Covington. In the latter place he fell in with the slave-holder, who was watching for an opportunity to secure the aid of some one who would induce Jack to come to the river, where he would hurry him onto the ferry, and get him on the Kentucky side, when he could easily return him to the far South. As he found Robert Russel a man of no principle, he gave him ten dollars if he would decoy Jack to the wharf of Walnut Street landing about noon, when men were generally at dinner. He succeeded, when the master with his Kentucky friends slipped hand-cuffs on poor Jack, and took him on the ferry for a thief. The more Jack protested, denying the charge, the louder they cried thief! thief! Some of his colored friends consulted their favorite lawyer, John Jolliffe, about arresting Jack's master for kidnapping, as he had taken him illegally, but they were told they could do nothing with him in Kentucky. They were compelled to leave their friend to his fate.

But the Judas who betrayed Jack ought to be brought to justice; but how could they do it? As I was at that time teaching a school of colored girls, in the bas.e.m.e.nt of Zion Baptist Church, a number of colored men came to consult with me. I told them as Robert Russel was a renegade he was as liable to serve one side of the river as the other, and would as readily bring a slave to the Ohio side for ten dollars, as to decoy him back into the hands of his master for that money. They said Robert did not dare come into Cincinnati, fearing that justice would be dealt out in tar and feathers by the colored people. They learned soon after he came to the city that he ran away from Ripley to avoid being arrested for stealing. I advised them not to take the law of tar and feathers, as they had indicated, in their own hands; but to spoil the petting he was getting from the slave-holders across the river, by warning them against Robert Russel, for he would as readily play the rogue one side as the other; and this they could do in a little printed card that might be dropped on the sidewalk through a few streets in Covington, and they would run him out of their town in a hurry. This idea pleased them, and they wished me to draft the card, and they would print and circulate it. I told them I would take my noon recess to prepare it, and at 4 o'clock my school would be out, and they might come for it. I gave it as follows:

Slave-Holders of Kentucky!

BEWARE OF THE ROGUE, ROBERT RUSSEL!

Who absconded from Ripley, Ohio, to evade the strong arm of the law he richly deserved for misdemeanors in that town. This man is a light mulatto, and betrayed one of his race for ten dollars, in Cincinnati, bringing him into life-long trouble. He will as readily take ten dollars from any of your slaves to bring them to Cincinnati, and again take ten dollars to return them to you, as he has no higher purpose to serve than paltry self. A LOVER OF RIGHT.

This was printed on a placard of ten by twelve inches. They procured two hundred for distribution, but found it more difficult to get a distributor than they antic.i.p.ated. I told one of them to go to Levi Coffin's and inform him and his wife where I was going after my school was dismissed, and that I would distribute them through Covington, but to let no one else know of it, except their committee who secured the printing, as it would produce increased excitement. I went a mile from the river before commencing my work, and left one or two in every yard, when no eye seemed directed toward me, I dropped them by the street side until I reached the ferry that returned me to my anxious friends in Cincinnati, just as the sun dropped behind the Western hills.

The following day report gave an account of the evening's excitement in Covington. A company of slave-holders met to consult over this placard, and the conclusion was reached to give Bob Russel until nine o'clock the following morning to leave the State or take the consequences. Two slaves had left them within a couple of months, and they charged him with taking them over the river. Some of the more excitable were for hauling him out of bed at the close of their meeting (ten o'clock), and dealing summary vengeance for their recent losses, but as he pledged himself to leave their State the next morning never to return, they left him to his own uncomfortable reflections.

A party consisting of four, from New Orleans, came to Cincinnati to spend the Summer, and made their home at a hotel. It was soon ascertained by the colored people that their little nurse girl of about nine years of age, was a slave, and as the master and mistress had brought her there, she was by the laws of Ohio free. They took the opportunity to coax her away and place her among their white friends, who they knew would take good care of her. Very soon there was great inquiry for Lavina. They said she was just a little pet they brought with them to play with and mind the baby, and they knew she was stolen from them against her will; but that if they could get sight at her, she would run to them, unless she was forcibly held back by some mean person. Diligent search was made among the colored people whom they suspected, but no clew could be found of her whereabouts. They were then advised to visit some prominent abolitionists, where they were satisfied she had been taken. So close to Elizabeth Coleman's were they watching, that she felt unsafe, fearing they might come in and find her alone with her little pet fugitive, so she took her to Samuel Reynold's by night.

The search continued. Samuel met the master on the street in front of his house, but had left orders to dress Lavina in his little boy's suit; and holding the master in conversation awhile, he said he would call for Jim, to bring them a gla.s.s and pitcher of water, having already told his wife to give Jim a few necessary instructions hew to appear very smart and active. As she came out to give them drink, Samuel gave the master and his two friends a few lessons in Ohio law, informing him that all slaves brought into the State by their owners were _free_. The master contended that it would be very cruel to keep Lavina from her mother (who belonged to him), and he knew if he could be allowed to see her it would be sufficient to convince them of her attachment to him, and promised to leave the child to her own choice.

"But," said Samuel, "Lavina is on our underground railroad." This was as new to the New Orleans slave-holder as were the Ohio laws he had been explaining. After discussing the right and wrong of his claim, Samuel called to his wife to send Jim with a pitcher of water; and out came the little fellow. "Pour a gla.s.s of water for this gentleman, Jim;" and their heated discussion continued. The master took the gla.s.s from Jim, who looked him full in the face, with one hand in his pocket, while Samuel was serving the other two gentlemen with a gla.s.s of water.

The women in the house were filled with fear, as they deemed Samuel rather imprudent. But Jim returned with pitcher and gla.s.s, and the master and his friends went back to the hotel none the wiser, either of Lavina's whereabouts or of the operation of this new kind of railroad.

Lavina was well cared for, and her master and mistress returned to New Orleans with a new experience, _minus_ a nurse girl.

Another fugitive, by the name of Zack, came across the river from Virginia into Ohio. He had lain in the woods by day, and traveled by the North Star at night, when it was clear, but in rainy or cloudy weather he found he was as liable to go South as North. There had been much rain to impede his progress, and he suffered much from hunger. He had advanced only a few miles from the river, when he found a family of true friends, who replenished his clothing, and was preparing food for his journey, when his master, with eight other men, found out where he was, and came with officers to search the house and take their prey.

They came in the night and demanded entrance. "Wife, what shall we do?

There are men under every window."

"Let them search the two lower rooms first, and while you go with them you tell Zack to slip into my room while you are with them, and I'll see to him."

"But I tell you he can't be got out of this house without being caught."

"Go on; I know that." And he left her and gave the frightened man his orders. But before he reached her room she rolled up the feather-bed and drew the straw mattress to the front side of the bedstead, and told Zack to jump in. Her oder obeyed, she threw back the feather-bed, and before the master and officer entered her room she was occupying the front side of the bed. The clothes-press, wardrobe, and under the bed were all closely scrutinized. The husband, pale with excitement, was expecting, in every place they searched, that poor Zack would be found.

But they all left satisfied that he was not in that house, though so very sure they had found the right place. The n.o.ble woman said he shook with fear, so as to make the bed tremble during the search, knowing but too well his sad fate if he should again fall into the hands of his master. Every necessary measure was taken to hasten his progress to Canada.

In December, 1852, Calvin Fairbanks, who had served a term of three years in the Kentucky penitentiary for aiding slaves to escape, called at Levi Coffin's and informed me of a letter he had received, giving information that an interesting slave woman in Louisville, Kentucky, could cross the river, if a friend would meet her at Jeffersonville, Indiana, and take her to a place of safety; and he proposed to be the conductor. I advised him, by all means, not to go so near Kentucky, as he was so well known through that State. He said he expected we would oppose him. I advised him to consult with Dr. Brisbane, as Levi was absent. But he chose to keep the matter quiet, and went on his dangerous expedition. I was called away to College Hill as nurse, and in three weeks, when I returned to Levi's, he called me into the store, saying, "We have a letter for thee to read; somebody is in trouble, and Samuel Lewis, Dr. Brisbane and myself have been trying to find out who it is, but can make out nothing by the letter. The signature is of stars, that he says is the number of letters in the name, but we can make nothing of it;" and he handed me the letter, dated from Louisville jail.

As soon as I counted the six stars in the first name, I said, "Levi, it is Calvin Fairbanks! Read out the last line of stars, and we'll find Fairbanks."

At this point Dr. Brisbane entered the store.

"Doctor," said Levi, "Laura has found our riddle; she says it is Calvin Fairbanks."

Both were astonished, not knowing he was down the river. I told them of his call in Levi's absence, and of his errand.

"Poor man, how he will suffer, for they will soon find him out, and they are so very bitter against him, I fear he will die in their penitentiary, for they will have no mercy on him," said the doctor.

"He sends us an appeal for help, but I see no way we can render him a.s.sistance," responded Levi.

A few weeks later a colored man, who had been mistaken for a slave, was released from that jail. He came to us telling of the suffering the prisoners endured, having no bed but a pile of filthy straw in their cells; and that Calvin requested him to see his friends, and tell us he must perish unless a quilt and flannel underclothing were furnished him; and he also needed a little pocket money. No one dared to take these articles to him, for only two weeks previously a man by the name of Conklin had brought the wife and four children of an escaped slave into Indiana, and was captured in the night. All were taken to the river, and the poor woman and her children returned to their owner, without her meeting the husband and father, who had sent for them.

Conklin was bound with ropes and thrown into the river, where he was found a few days after. Four weeks before Williams, from Ma.s.sachusetts, followed two little mulatto girls who were stolen from their free-born parents by a peddler, and found them near Baltimore, Maryland. As soon as his errand was made known a baud of ruffians lynched him.

These two cases of murder, without the semblance of law, had produced much excitement in the North, and now the Fairbanks case was increasing the exasperation of the South. But here was a suffering brother in prison. A few days of earnest prayer determined me to go to Louisville jail with a trunk of bed clothes and under flannels. I looked for strong opposition from my friends, but to my surprise when I proposed the plan to my friends Levi and Catherine Coffin, they favored my project. Catherine did her full share in furnis.h.i.+ng a trunk, a thick comfortable and pillow; others soon brought a change of flannels; and as Levi met friends and made known my project of going to Louisville, the mites were brought to the amount of fourteen dollars for Calvin, and enough to bear my expenses. Levi saw Captain Barker, who possessed an interest in the line of packets running to Louisville, and he offered half fare, and promised to send for me in time for the Ben Franklin, No. 2, to leave for Louisville the next day at 2 P. M.

Dr. Brisbane, on returning from an absence of a few days, told Levi not to allow so rash a move, and said that I must not go to Louisville in this excitement, for it was dangerous in the extreme; and he referred to Conklin's fate, that was just as likely to be mine. This so discouraged Levi, that he said, "It may be we have been too fast in giving thee words of encouragement." My reply was, "I find no geographical lines drawn by our Savior in visiting the sick and in prison."

Here was a suffering brother, who had fallen among thieves, and I felt it my duty to go to his relief. There seemed also a clear answer to prayer that I should be protected; and if time would allow me to call on Dr. Brisbane before I left for the boat, I would do so, as I desired to see him.

"If thou art going, I advise thee not to call on the doctor, as I know how he feels about thy going, and all thy reasons will not satisfy him in the least."

I told him if the doctor or any one else would go, I should feel easy to give it up, but otherwise I could not.

During this conversation Melancthon Henry came in, as he said, "with his mite" of three silver dollars for brother Fairbanks. He said, "You are going into the lion's den, and my prayer is that you may be as wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove. I know the venom of the serpent is there in power, but G.o.d will give his children the wisdom without the poison." Melancthon was a son of Patrick Henry, who had emanc.i.p.ated him with his slave mother. He was a member of the Wesleyan Methodist Church, to which I was at that time attached.

Soon after Captain Barker sent for me, and told me to refer Colonel Buckner to him in presenting my note of introduction, as he was favorably acquainted with the colonel and he should mention me as one of his friends.

Arrived at Louisville about day-dawn, I took a hack, and ordered the hackman to place the trunk on the porch of the front entrance of the jailor's residence. As the colonel's wife answered the door-bell, I inquired for Colonel Buckner. She stepped back to call him, when in an undertone I heard, "Who is it?" "I don't know; she came in the hack and is genteelly dressed, and I think came from the boat."

He "genteelly" met me, took Captain Barker's letter of introduction, and then introduced me to his wife and daughter, and to his wife's sister from Boston, who was there on a visit with her daughter, making quite a lively social circle. My errand was immediately made known, and the colonel excused himself for overhauling the trunk to take its contents to Calvin at once, as it was in the line of his duty as keeper of the prison to examine every thing brought in for prisoners; not that he expected to find anything improper for Fairbanks to receive. I told him I designed returning to Cincinnati on the same boat I came on, and it was going out at 4 P. M.

"Why go so soon?" he asked.

I replied, "My errand here is accomplished, when I see that these things are delivered to Calvin Fairbanks; and as I have a little pocket change, sent by his friends in Cincinnati, I would like to see Calvin, as I shall write his mother after my return."

"I will see if the sheriff thinks it best. There was a great excitement in the city when Fairbanks was arrested and brought here, and Shotwell, the injured man who lost his servant Tamor and her child, is very much enraged, and being a man of wealth and influence here, I dare not take you in to see Fairbanks on my own responsibility; but I'll see the sheriff, and if he says you can see him it is all right."

With a little note from me he took the trunk of things to Calvin, and brought back a receipt. As he handed it to me he said, "I suppose you will recognize his handwriting, so you'll know it's from him?"

I replied that I had seen a note of his writing, but was not familiarly acquainted with it, but was perfectly satisfied with the receipt.

He said he had been to see the sheriff, but he was absent, and would not return for two or three days, "and I think you had better wait," he continued, "and see him, as you can remain with us; it shall not cost you a cent."

I told him my friends in Cincinnati would be at the wharf to meet me the following morning; and as I had nothing further to accomplish, being satisfied that the things and money had been received by Calvin Fairbanks, I felt free to return. But he urged still harder.

"It will be too bad for you to return without seeing him, as you are the only friend that has called to see him since he has been here; and I know he wants to see you, for he asked if you were not coming in to see him, and I told him I was waiting to see the sheriff; and I think you had better wait till the boat makes another trip, as your stay here is as free as air, and we would like you to stop over; then you can see the sheriff, and I reckon he will not object to your going in to see Fairbanks, and yet I dare not take you in without his approval."

I at length consented. They were all very polite, and I rested as sweetly that night as if in my own room at Levi Coffin's, or in my own Michigan home. The next day the colonel was very free to talk of the false ideas of Northern people about slavery; spoke of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler's work on slavery, that I took from their center table; said his wife's Boston friends sent it her, but "it was nothing but a pack of lies."

I told him that she lived and died neighbor to me, and I esteemed her as a n.o.ble woman.

"But she never lived in the South, and had no right to judge of their condition without the knowledge of it."

I was introduced to a young man who he said had been suffering a few days' imprisonment under false charges, but on the examination, had that day, was found not guilty. As the family withdrew from the parlor, this young man seemed very anxious to deliver a secret message from Fairbanks to me; he said he had made a confidant of him, and told him to request me to see to forwarding Tamor's trunk of valuable clothing to a place of safety. He then told me the mark on the trunk, and the place in Louisville where it was waiting to be forwarded. I said that I had told the colonel I had no idea of Tamor's whereabouts, as I had supposed she was taken with Fairbanks until informed to the contrary; and that I had no business here whatever, aside from bringing a few articles for his present relief.

After being absent awhile, he returned with a note purporting to be from Calvin, inquiring whether I had made the acquaintance of persons therein named. I told the bearer I had not, and if he saw Calvin he could tell him so. He urged me to send Fairbanks a note, as the colonel or any one else should know nothing of it; but I refused, becoming satisfied that he was more of a dispatch-bearer for the colonel than for Calvin Fairbanks. I learned afterwards that this was true, and that he was released for the purpose of getting hold of additional evidence with which to convict him, and perhaps convict myself also.

In the evening a gentleman of their city made a call on the family, and to him I was introduced. He spent an hour or two in conversation with myself and the others. The jailer, Colonel Buckner, told me just before I left that their city papers--Louisville _Courier_ and Louisville _Commercial_--inserted a notice to the effect that "Delia Webster, from Cincinnati, is here, and is quartered for a few days in the city." This little notice created much excitement; and as the gentleman alluded to knew Delia Webster personally, the colonel brought him in to make my acquaintance and report accordingly. As he pa.s.sed out of the parlor, he told the colonel he might rest a.s.sured that lady was not Delia Webster, and they had nothing to fear from this Cincinnati lady, and he should set the editors right. All this excitement was carefully kept from me, as they wished to keep me as long as they possibly could, hoping to glean some additional evidence against Fairbanks, although the jailer told me they had sufficient evidence to convict Fairbanks for a term of twenty-five or thirty years at least, as this was the second offense, and he had no doubt but that he had been guilty of many others. The papers next day came out with a correction, "that it was not Delia Webster, but Mrs. Haviland, from Cincinnati; and, as abolitionists generally went in pairs, she had better keep a lookout, or she, too, would find an apartment in Colonel Buckner's castle."

Delia Webster was arrested near the time of Calvin Fairbanks's first arrest, and for the same offense, and sentenced to the same penitentiary, but in six weeks was pardoned.