Sketches in the History of the Underground Railroad/Chapter IV
CHAPTER IV.
The first well established line of the U. G. R. R. had its southern terminus in Washington, D. C., and extended in a pretty direct route to Albany, N. Y., thence radiating in all directions to all the New England States, and to many parts of this State. Comparatively few crossed over to Canada until after the enactment of the fugitive slave law in 1850, at which time the aforesaid route had been in successful operation about eleven years. The severe penalties inflicted by that law for feeding, or aiding in the escape, or harboring “fugitives from labor,” made it necessary to extend the lines of the R. R. directly through to Canada. Previous to 1850, slaves were sometimes seized and carried back under the Constitution, but no penalty could be inflicted for feeding, employing, or secreting them.
The General Superintendent resided in Albany. I know him well. He was once an active member of one of the churches in Fredonia. Mr. T., his agent in Washington city, was a very active and efficient man; the Superintendent at Albany was in daily communication by mail with him and other subordinate agents at all points along the line.
It should not be supposed that the few humble individuals actually engaged in the active operations of this institution, were the only persons interested in it. Some of the best men in the nation were stockholders; men of wealth and influence, men in office, State and national,—men, women and children identified themselves with its affairs. It had the aid and approval of the most distinguished philanthropists of the age, and many far-seeing politicians, descrying the conflict between slave and free labor, took sides with the latter. It was a deep-laid scheme, having in view the restoration of God-given rights to helpless, hunted fugitives, making slaveholders realize that money paid for human chattels was an insecure investment, resulting in gradual emancipation, and finally in total abolition with the consent of the slaveholders themselves. Having thus slightly sketched the formation of the Company of the Underground R. R. and its object, I will narrate the wanderings of Jo Norton.
"UNDERGROUND RAILROAD—A MYSTERY NOT YET SOLVED"
Such was the heading of an article in one of the morning papers in the city of Washington, on Saturday morning of the last week in October, 1839, from which I copy as closely as I can from memory, not having time to look up the paper:
“The abolition incendiaries are undermining, not only our domestic institutions, but the very foundations of our Capitol. Our citizens will recollect that the boy Jim, who was arrested while lurking about the Capitol in August, would disclose nothing until he was subjected to torture by screwing his fingers in a blacksmith’s vice, when he acknowledged that he was to have been sent north by railroad; was to have started from near the place where he stood when discovered by the patrol. He refused to tell who was to aid him—said he did not know—and most likely he did not know. Nothing more could be got from him until they gave the screw another turn, when he said, “the railroad went underground all the way to Boston.” Our citizens are losing all their best servants. Some secret, Yankee arrangement has been contrived by which they “stampede” from three to eight at a time, and not a trace of them can be found until they reach the interior of New York, or of the New England States. They cannot gave gone by railroad, as every station is closely watched by a secret police, yet there is no other conveyance by which a man can reach Albany from this city in two days. That they have done so, is now fully demonstrated. Colonel Hardy, a tobacco planter, residing in the District, about five miles from the city, lost five more slaves last Sunday evening. They were pursued by an expert slave catcher, but no trace of them was discovered. The search was abandoned this morning, the Colonel having received a paper called the Liberty Press, printed in Albany, with an article marked, so as to attract his attention, which reads as follows:
“‘Arrived, this morning, by our fast line, three men and two women. They were claimed as slaves by Colonel H., of the District of Columbia, but became dissatisfied with the Colonel’s ways, and left the old fellow’s premises last Sunday evening, arriving at our station by the quickest passage on record.’
“The article goes on reciting certain incidents that have transpired in the Colonel’s family, that correspond so exactly with facts that the Colonel says, ‘Nobody but Kate could have told that story!’ Said article closes by saying: ‘Now, Colonel H., please give yourself no trouble about these friends of yours, for they will be safe under the protection of the British Lion before this meets your eyes.’”
Thus it will be seen that this famous thoroughfare was first called the “Underground Railroad,” in the city of Washington.
That article was published in the Liberty Press for “a southern market.” The facts of the case are these: The three men, Jo, Robert, and Harry, lay concealed in a rude cabin, which was covered out of sight by a pile of corn stalks, about six miles from Baltimore, near the road toward Washington. The women, Kate and Nancy, were in a similar hut near by during the first day, but were conveyed in a carriage to a safe place in Baltimore, Monday evening, arriving there about eight o’clock. These were the first two stations on the route, and here they all remained until the aforesaid article appeared in the Washington paper, and Col. H. had called in his hounds, both biped and quadruped, when, the excitement having subsided, their further progress was comparatively easy.
Before pursuing the thread of their story beyond this point, I must go back a few days and commence the narrative as it was related at my own fireside by one of the parties, the aforesaid Jo, whom I chanced to meet in this village and made a bargain with to go to school, paying for his board by doing chores. Jo was very intelligent, but said his uncle Harry was a “heap” smarter than he was, and led the party whenever they ran their own train.
Jo worked on the plantation “making tobacco,” as he termed it, in the summer, and after he was sixteen years old, he was hired out as waiter in a hotel in Washington every winter. He used to boast of standing behind Daniel Webster’s chair, and waiting on him at the table, and that his wife, Mary, had the care of his rooms. They had now been married about four years. She lived, when not in service at the hotel, with the Judson family in the city. Judson held her as a slave, though his father told her, that by his will, she would, at his death, be free. When Jo was not employed in the city, he was allowed to go to church, and to visit his wife on Sunday once in two weeks. When the gout got an extra twist on the old Colonel’s toes, he would be cross and refuse to give him a pass. But Jo had a true friend in the old man’s daughter, whose love letters he carried both ways, and never betrayed her secrets. She did the old man’s writing at such times, and would always provide him with a pass without asking very carefully whether it was his day to go to town, or not.
Jo had long meditated an escape, more for the sake of Mary, and for the anxiety they both felt for their little boy, James, than on his own account. On his way home one Sunday evening, he fell in company with a gentleman walking in the same direction. Jo knew by his language that he was from the north, and felt, (as he expressed it,) in his bones, that the gentleman might be trusted as a friend. I need not relate all that passed between them ; another interview was appointed at the end of two weeks, at which time it was arranged that Mary and the little boy should remain a while longer, and Jo was to start with some others, three weeks from that evening.
Just after it was dark, at the time appointed, at the signal, Jo slowly raised his head above a clump of bushes in which he was concealed, in the old cemetery by the turnpike, near the bounds of the city, and was astonished to see four other heads arise as if they came out of the graves, from behind tombstones and low bushes; all of them silent and motionless, until they heard signal No. 2, when, with silent tread, they all approached the signal station, trembling with superstitious fear, without even daring to whistle to keep off the “spooks.” When they came together, all of them were surprised to find that they were acquainted and related to each othen Each knew that others were going, but none knew who the others were until they met among the tombs. The other four had been hired out by Colonel H. to different parties in the city, and not one had revealed to any other the secret of their movements. The man who met them there was a stranger to all of them, as they expected he would be, but having exchanged signals they con fided in him. Jo always declared that they were expecting to “just go down into the ground among the dead folks,” and in some mysterious way be carried off, and their fears had almost got the better of their longings for liberty, when they were joyfully relieved by the conductor, who told them that they were to follow the turnpike until they came near the railroad, then “take the R. R. track, passing around stations in the fields and woods, find the track again, and go on until you see a man standing in the middle of the track; then stop and listen, and if you hear him say ‘Ben’ go to him and do as he tells you.” He then appointed Harry as their conductor, told them to walk fast, as they had thirty miles to go, showed them the north star and its bearings upon their route, shook hands, and with quivering lips, bade them God speed. They were soon out of his sight.
They traveled by starlight until about midnight, when clouds obscured the stars, and in passing around a village, they got bewildered and lost. After wandering in the fields and woods an hour or more, they stopped to consult about their course, and found that there were five different directions, each of which was strenuously contended for as the way to go, and there would probably have been six ways had there been another man in their party. They were almost in despair when the clouds broke away, and Harry said, “Now I find him.” Harry’s education consisted of one lesson in astronomy, viz.: how to. find the north star by the bearing of the constellation called the “great bear.” Harry soon discovered it, and said in low tones, “dis am de way, know it all de time, dat am de old norf,” pointing at the star. It happened, however, to be Kate instead of Harry, that had guessed right.
So much time had been lost, that, as Jo said, “de chickens began to crow” before they discovered “Ben” standing on the track. They stopped until Ben spoke his own name, when they followed him into a field, and coming to a stack of corn stalks, Ben removed a few bundles, and the men went in. The women were secreted in a similar place, and after a hearty breakfast, provided for them by their host, they all laid down and slept soundly.
Ben was a free negro, very old and decrepit. He had been supplied with money to rent this field, and “make a crop of corn,” and to fix up the place and take care of it. The stacks of corn in which they were secreted were close to the railroad, so that no one would look in so public a place for fugitives. Old Ben, during the next day, obliterated all tracks in the field by husking and moving his bundles of stalks. As soon as it was dark a man took Kate and Nancy away. They walked along the track to a cross road, and along the road some distance, then started for Baltimore in a coach, driven by a negro. The boys did not awake until an hour after the women were gone, when they were aroused by a pack of hounds. The dogs were moving carefully about, as they often do when the track is old, occasionally giving out a sharp yelp. When they struck the fresh tracks of Kate and Nancy, who had been gone about an hour, the whole pack broke into a wild scream, varying between the hoarse howl of the old hounds and shrill screech of the pups.