The Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave by William Wells Brown
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William Wells Brown >> The Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave
We finally arrived at Mr. Walker's farm. He had a house built during our
absence to put slaves in. It was a kind of domestic jail. The slaves
were put in the jail at night, and worked on the farm during the day.
They were kept here until the gang was completed, when we again started
for New Orleans, on board the steamboat North America, Capt. Alexander
Scott. We had a large number of slaves in this gang. One, by the name of
Joe, Mr. Walker was training up to take my place, as my time was nearly
out, and glad was I. We made our first stop at Vicksburg, where we
remained one week and sold several slaves.
Mr. Walker, though not a good master, had not flogged a slave since I
had been with him, though he had threatened me. The slaves were kept in
the pen, and he always put up at the best hotel, and kept his wines in
his room, for the accommodation of those who called to negotiate with
him for the purchase of slaves. One day while we were at Vicksburg,
several gentlemen came to see him for this purpose, and as usual the
wine was called for. I took the tray and started around with it, and
having accidentally filled some of the glasses too full, the gentlemen
spilled the wine on their clothes as they went to drink. Mr. Walker
apologized to them for my carelessness, but looked at me as though he
would see me again on this subject.
After the gentlemen had left the room, he asked me what I meant by my
carelessness, and said that he would attend to me. The next morning, he
gave me a note to carry to the jailer, and a dollar in money to give to
him. I suspected that all was not right, so I went down near the landing
where I met with a sailor, and walking up to him, asked him if he would
be so kind as to read the note for me. He read it over, and then looked
at me. I asked him to tell me what was in it. Said he,
"They are going to give you hell."
"Why?" said I.
He said, "This is a note to have you whipped, and says that you have a
dollar to pay for it."
He handed me back the note, and off I started. I knew not what to do,
but was determined not to be whipped. I went up to the jail--took a look
at it, and walked off again. As Mr. Walker was acquainted with the
jailer, I feared that I should be found out if I did not go, and be
treated in consequence of it still worse.
While I was meditating on the subject, I saw a colored man about my size
walk up, and the thought struck me in a moment to send him with my note.
I walked up to him, and asked him who he belonged to. He said he was a
free man, and had been in the city but a short time. I told him I had a
note to go into the jail, and get a trunk to carry to one of the
steamboats; but was so busily engaged that I could not do it, although I
had a dollar to pay for it. He asked me if I would not give him the job.
I handed him the note and the dollar, and off he started for the jail.
I watched to see that he went in, and as soon as I saw the door close
behind him, I walked around the corner, and took my station, intending
to see how my friend looked when he came out. I had been there but a
short time, when a colored man came around the corner, and said to
another colored man with whom he was acquainted--
"They are giving a nigger scissors in the jail."
"What for?" said the other. The man continued,
"A nigger came into the jail, and asked for the jailer. The jailer came
out, and he handed him a note, and said he wanted to get a trunk. The
jailer told him to go with him, and he would give him the trunk. So he
took him into the room, and told the nigger to give up the dollar. He
said a man had given him the dollar to pay for getting the trunk. But
that lie would not answer. So they made him strip himself, and then they
tied him down, and are now whipping him."
I stood by all the while listening to their talk, and soon found out
that the person alluded to was my customer. I went into the street
opposite the jail, and concealed myself in such a manner that I could
not be seen by any one coming out. I had been there but a short time,
when the young man made his appearance, and looked around for me. I,
unobserved, came forth from my hiding-place, behind a pile of brick, and
he pretty soon saw me and came up to me complaining bitterly, saying
that I had played a trick upon him. I denied any knowledge of what the
note contained, and asked him what they had done to him. He told me in
substance what I heard the man tell who had come out of the jail.
"Yes," said he, "they whipped me and took my dollar, and gave me this
note."
He showed me the note which the jailer had given him, telling him to
give it to his master. I told him I would give him fifty cents for
it,--that being all the money I had. He gave it to me, and took his
money. He had received twenty lashes on his bare back, with the
negro-whip.
I took the note and started for the hotel where I had left Mr. Walker.
Upon reaching the hotel, I handed it to a stranger whom I had not seen
before, and requested him to read it to me. As near as I can recollect,
it was as follows:--
"DEAR SIR:--By your direction, I have given your boy twenty lashes.
He is a very saucy boy, and tried to make me believe that he did
not belong to you, and I put it on to him well for lying to me.
I remain,
Your obedient servant."
It is true that in most of the slave-holding cities, when a gentleman
wishes his servants whipped, he can send him to the jail and have it
done. Before I went in where Mr. Walker was, I wet my cheeks a little,
as though I had been crying. He looked at me, and inquired what was the
matter. I told him that I had never had such a whipping in my life, and
handed him the note. He looked at it and laughed;--"and so you told him
that you did not belong to me." "Yes, sir," said I. "I did not know that
there was any harm in that." He told me I must behave myself, if I did
not want to be whipped again.
This incident shows how it is that slavery makes its victims lying and
mean; for which vices it afterwards reproaches them, and uses them as
arguments to prove that they deserve no better fate. I have often,
since my escape, deeply regretted the deception I practised upon this
poor fellow; and I heartily desire that it may be, at some time or
other, in my power to make him amends for his vicarious sufferings in my
behalf.
CHAPTER VII.
In a few days we reached New Orleans, and arriving there in the
night, remained on board until morning. While at New Orleans this time,
I saw a slave killed; an account of which has been published by Theodore
D. Weld, in his book entitled, "Slavery as it is." The circumstances
were as follows. In the evening, between seven and eight o'clock, a
slave came running down the levee, followed by several men and boys. The
whites were crying out, "Stop that nigger; stop that nigger;" while the
poor panting slave, in almost breathless accents, was repeating, "I did
not steal the meat--I did not steal the meat." The poor man at last took
refuge in the river. The whites who were in pursuit of him, run on board
of one of the boats to see if they could discover him. They finally
espied him under the bow of the steamboat Trenton. They got a pike-pole,
and tried to drive him from his hiding place. When they would strike at
him, he would dive under the water. The water was so cold, that it soon
became evident that he must come out or be drowned.
While they were trying to drive him from under the bow of the boat or
drown him, he would in broken and imploring accents say, "I did not
steal the meat; I did not steal the meat. My master lives up the river.
I want to see my master. I did not steal the meat. Do let me go home to
master." After punching him, and striking him over the head for some
time, he at last sunk in the water, to rise no more alive.
On the end of the pike-pole with which they were striking him was a hook
which caught in his clothing, and they hauled him up on the bow of the
boat. Some said he was dead, others said he was "_playing possum_" while
others kicked him to make him get up, but it was of no use--he was dead.
As soon as they became satisfied of this, they commenced leaving, one
after another. One of the hands on the boat informed the captain that
they had killed the man, and that the dead body was lying on the deck.
The captain came on deck, and said to those who were remaining, "You
have killed this nigger; now take him off of my boat." The captain's
name was Hart. The dead body was dragged on shore and left there. I went
on board of the boat where our gang of slaves were, and during the whole
night my mind was occupied with what I had seen. Early in the morning, I
went on shore to see if the dead body remained there. I found it in the
same position that it was left the night before. I watched to see what
they would do with it. It was left there until between eight and nine
o'clock, when a cart, which takes up the trash out of the streets, came
along, and the body was thrown in, and in a few minutes more was covered
over with dirt which they were removing from the streets. During the
whole time, I did not see more than six or seven persons around it, who,
from their manner, evidently regarded it as no uncommon occurrence.
During our stay in the city, I met with a young white man with whom I
was well acquainted in St. Louis. He had been sold into slavery, under
the following circumstances. His father was a drunkard, and very poor,
with a family of five or six children. The father died, and left the
mother to take care of and provide for the children as best she might.
The eldest was a boy, named Burrill, about thirteen years of age, who
did chores in a store kept by Mr. Riley, to assist his mother in
procuring a living for the family. After working with him two years, Mr.
Riley took him to New Orleans to wait on him while in that city on a
visit, and when he returned to St. Louis, he told the mother of the boy
that he had died with the yellow fever. Nothing more was heard from him,
no one supposing him to be alive. I was much astonished when Burrill
told me his story. Though I sympathized with him, I could not assist
him. We were both slaves. He was poor, uneducated, and without friends;
and if living, is, I presume, still held as a slave.
After selling out this cargo of human flesh, we returned to St. Louis,
and my time was up with Mr. Walker. I had served him one year, and it
was the longest year I ever lived.
CHAPTER VIII.
I was sent home, and was glad enough to leave the service of one who was
tearing the husband from the wife, the child from the mother, and the
sister from the brother,--but a trial more severe and heart-rending than
any which I had yet met with awaited me. My dear sister had been sold to
a man who was going to Natchez, and was lying in jail awaiting the hour
of his departure. She had expressed her determination to die, rather
than go to the far south, and she was put in jail for safe keeping. I
went to the jail the same day that I arrived, but as the jailor was not
in, I could not see her.
I went home to my master, in the country, and the first day after my
return, he came where I was at work, and spoke to me very politely. I
knew from his appearance that something was the matter. After talking
about my several journeys to New Orleans with Mr. Walker, he told me
that he was hard pressed for money, and as he had sold my mother and all
her children except me, he thought it would be better to sell me than
any other one, and that as I had been used to living in the city, he
thought it probable that I would prefer it to a country life. I raised
up my head, and looked him full in the face. When my eyes caught his, he
immediately looked to the ground. After a short pause, I said,
"Master, mother has often told me that you are a near relative of mine,
and I have often heard you admit the fact; and after you have hired me
out, and received, as I once heard you say, nine hundred dollars for my
services,--after receiving this large sum, will you sell me to be
carried to New Orleans or some other place?"
"No," said he, "I do not intend to sell you to a negro trader. If I had
wished to have done that, I might have sold you to Mr. Walker for a
large sum, but I would not sell you to a negro trader. You may go to the
city, and find you a good master."
"But," said I, "I cannot find a good master in the whole city of St.
Louis."
"Why?" said he.
"Because there are no good masters in the State."
"Do you not call me a good master?"
"If you were, you would not sell me."
"Now I will give you one week to find a master in, and surely you can do
it in that time."
The price set by my evangelical master upon my soul and body was the
trifling sum of five hundred dollars. I tried to enter into some
arrangement by which I might purchase my freedom; but he would enter
into no such arrangement.
I set out for the city with the understanding that I was to return in a
week with some one to become my new master. Soon after reaching the
city, I went to the jail, to learn if I could once more see my sister;
but could not gain admission. I then went to mother, and learned from
her that the owner of my sister intended to start for Natchez in a few
days.
I went to the jail again the next day, and Mr. Simonds, the keeper,
allowed me to see my sister for the last time. I cannot give a just
description of the scene at that parting interview. Never, never can be
erased from my heart the occurrences of that day! When I entered the
room where she was, she was seated in one corner, alone. There were four
other women in the same room, belonging to the same man. He had
purchased them, he said, for his own use. She was seated with her face
towards the door where I entered, yet she did not look up until I walked
up to her. As soon as she observed me, she sprung up, threw her arms
around my neck, leaned her head upon my breast, and, without uttering a
word, burst into tears. As soon as she recovered herself sufficiently to
speak, she advised me to take mother, and try to get out of slavery. She
said there was no hope for herself,--that she must live and die a slave.
After giving her some advice, and taking from my finger a ring and
placing it upon hers, I bade her farewell forever, and returned to my
mother, and then and there made up my mind to leave for Canada as soon
as possible.
I had been in the city nearly two days, and as I was to be absent only a
week, I thought best to get on my journey as soon as possible. In
conversing with mother, I found her unwilling to make the attempt to
reach a land of liberty, but she counselled me to get my liberty if I
could. She said, as all her children were in slavery, she did not wish
to leave them. I could not bear the idea of leaving her among those
pirates, when there was a prospect of being able to get away from them.
After much persuasion, I succeeded in inducing her to make the attempt
to get away.
The time fixed for our departure was the next night. I had with me a
little money that I had received, from time to time, from gentlemen for
whom I had done errands. I took my scanty means and purchased some dried
beef, crackers and cheese, which I carried to mother, who had provided
herself with a bag to carry it in. I occasionally thought of my old
master, and of my mission to the city to find a new one. I waited with
the most intense anxiety for the appointed time to leave the land of
slavery, in search of a land of liberty.
The time at length arrived, and we left the city just as the clock
struck nine. We proceeded to the upper part of the city, where I had
been two or three times during the day, and selected a skiff to carry us
across the river. The boat was not mine, nor did I know to whom it did
belong; neither did I care. The boat was fastened with a small pole,
which, with the aid of a rail, I soon loosened from its moorings. After
hunting round and finding a board to use as an oar, I turned to the
city, and bidding it a long farewell, pushed off my boat. The current
running very swift, we had not reached the middle of the stream before
we were directly opposite the city.
We were soon upon the Illinois shore, and, leaping from the boat, turned
it adrift, and the last I saw of it, it was going down the river at good
speed. We took the main road to Alton, and passed through just at
daylight, when we made for the woods, where we remained during the day.
Our reason for going into the woods was, that we expected that Mr.
Mansfield (the man who owned my mother) would start in pursuit of her as
soon as he discovered that she was missing. He also knew that I had been
in the city looking for a new master, and we thought probably he would
go out to my master's to see if he could find my mother, and in so
doing, Dr. Young might be led to suspect that I had gone to Canada to
find a purchaser.
We remained in the woods during the day, and as soon as darkness
overshadowed the earth, we started again on our gloomy way, having no
guide but the north star. We continued to travel by night, and
secrete ourselves in woods by day; and every night, before emerging
from our hiding-place, we would anxiously look for our friend and
leader,--the NORTH STAR.
CHAPTER IX.
As we travelled towards a land of liberty, my heart would at times leap
for joy. At other times, being, as I was, almost constantly on my feet,
I felt as though I could travel no further. But when I thought of
slavery with its Democratic whips--its Republican chains--its
evangelical blood-hounds, and its religious slave-holders--when I
thought of all this paraphernalia of American Democracy and Religion
behind me, and the prospect of liberty before me, I was encouraged to
press forward, my heart was strengthened, and I forgot that I was tired
or hungry.
On the eighth day of our journey, we had a very heavy rain, and in a few
hours after it commenced, we had not a dry thread upon our bodies. This
made our journey still more unpleasant. On the tenth day, we found
ourselves entirely destitute of provisions, and how to obtain any we
could not tell. We finally resolved to stop at some farmhouse, and try
to get something to eat. We had no sooner determined to do this, than we
went to a house, and asked them for some food. We were treated with
great kindness, and they not only gave us something to eat, but gave us
provisions to carry with us. They advised us to travel by day, and lye
by at night. Finding ourselves about one hundred and fifty miles from
St. Louis, we concluded that it would be safe to travel by daylight, and
did not leave the house until the next morning. We travelled on that day
through a thickly settled country, and through one small village. Though
we were fleeing from a land of oppression, our hearts were still there.
My dear sister and two beloved brothers were behind us, and the idea of
giving them up, and leaving them forever, made us feel sad. But with all
this depression of heart, the thought that I should one day be free, and
call my body my own, buoyed me up, and made my heart leap for joy. I had
just been telling mother how I should try to get employment as soon as
we reached Canada, and how I intended to purchase us a little farm, and
how I would earn money enough to buy sister and brothers, and how happy
we would be in our own Free Home,--when three men came up on
horseback, and ordered us to stop.
I turned to the one who appeared to be the principal man, and asked him
what he wanted. He said he had a warrant to take us up. The three
immediately dismounted, and one took from his pocket a handbill,
advertising us as runaways, and offering a reward of two hundred dollars
for our apprehension, and delivery in the city of St. Louis. The
advertisement had been put out by Isaac Mansfield and John Young.
While they were reading the advertisement, mother looked me in the face,
and burst into tears. A cold chill ran over me, and such a sensation I
never experienced before, and I hope never to again. They took out a
rope and tied me, and we were taken back about six miles, to the house
of the individual who appeared to be the leader. We reached there about
seven o'clock in the evening, had supper, and were separated for the
night. Two men remained in the room during the night. Before the family
retired to rest, they were all called together to attend prayers. The
man who but a few hours before had bound my hands together with a strong
cord, read a chapter from the Bible, and then offered up prayer, just as
though God sanctioned the act he had just committed upon a poor panting,
fugitive slave.
The next morning, a blacksmith came in, and put a pair of handcuffs on
me, and we started on our journey back to the land of whips, chains and
Bibles. Mother was not tied, but was closely watched at night. We were
carried back in a wagon, and after four days travel, we came in sight of
St. Louis. I cannot describe my feelings upon approaching the city.
As we were crossing the ferry, Mr. Wiggins, the owner of the ferry, came
up to me, and inquired what I had been doing that I was in chains. He
had not heard that I had run away. In a few minutes, we were on the
Missouri side, and were taken directly to the jail. On the way thither,
I saw several of my friends, who gave me a nod of recognition as I
passed them. After reaching the jail, we were locked up in different
apartments.
CHAPTER X.
I had been in jail but a short time when I heard that my master was
sick, and nothing brought more joy to my heart than that intelligence. I
prayed fervently for him--not for his recovery, but for his death. I
knew he would be exasperated at having to pay for my apprehension, and
knowing his cruelty, I feared him. While in jail, I learned that my
sister Elizabeth, who was in prison when we left the city, had been
carried off four days before our arrival.
I had been in jail but a few hours when three negro-traders, learning
that I was secured thus for running away, came to my prison-house and
looked at me, expecting that I would be offered for sale. Mr. Mansfield,
the man who owned mother, came into the jail as soon as Mr. Jones, the
man who arrested us, informed him that he had brought her back. He told
her that he would not whip her, but would sell her to a negro-trader, or
take her to New Orleans himself. After being in jail about one week,
master sent a man to take me out of jail, and send me home. I was taken
out and carried home, and the old man was well enough to sit up. He had
me brought into the room where he was, and as I entered, he asked me
where I had been? I told I had acted according to his orders. He had
told me to look for a master, and I had been to look for one. He
answered that he did not tell me to go to Canada to look for a master. I
told him that as I had served him faithfully, and had been the means of
putting a number of hundreds of dollars into his pocket, I thought I had
a right to my liberty. He said he had promised my father that I should
not be sold to supply the New Orleans market, or he would sell me to a
negro-trader.
I was ordered to go into the field to work, and was closely watched by
the overseer during the day, and locked up at night. The overseer gave
me a severe whipping on the second day that I was in the field. I had
been at home but a short time, when master was able to ride to the city;
and on his return, he informed me that he had sold me to Samuel Willi, a
merchant tailor. I knew Mr. Willi. I had lived with him three or four
months some years before, when he hired me of my master.
Mr. Willi was not considered by his servants as a very bad man, nor was
he the best of masters. I went to my new home, and found my new mistress
very glad to see me. Mr. Willi owned two servants before he purchased
me,--Robert and Charlotte. Robert was an excellent white-washer, and
hired his time from his master, paying him one dollar per day, besides
taking care of himself. He was known in the city by the name of Bob
Music. Charlotte was an old woman, who attended to the cooking, washing,
&c. Mr. Willi was not a wealthy man, and did not feel able to keep many
servants around his house; so he soon decided to hire me out, and as I
had been accustomed to service in steamboats, he gave me the privilege
of finding such employment.
I soon secured a situation on board the steamer Otto, Capt. J.B. Hill,
which sailed from St. Louis to Independence, Missouri. My former master,
Dr. Young, did not let Mr. Willi know that I had run away, or he would
not have permitted me to go on board a steamboat. The boat was not quite
ready to commence running, and therefore I had to remain with Mr. Willi.
But during this time, I had to undergo a trial, for which I was entirely
unprepared. My mother, who had been in jail since her return until the
present time, was now about being carried to New Orleans, to die on a
cotton, sugar, or rice plantation!
I had been several times to the jail, but could obtain no interview with
her. I ascertained, however, the time the boat in which she was to
embark would sail, and as I had not seen mother since her being thrown
into prison, I felt anxious for the hour of sailing to come. At last,
the day arrived when I was to see her for the first time after our
painful separation, and, for aught that I knew, for the last time in
this world!