# Sketches in the History of the Underground Railroad/Chapter XIII

CHAPTER XIII.
Three fugitives arrived at our station about 8 o’clock one night in January, 18—. They came in a sleigh, covered with robes and blankets so that no person was to be seen. The load had the appearance of a load of grain protected from the snow on a stormy day. They had been pushed forward from Painesville, Ohio, in a very secret way, changing conductors every day, or at midnight, as was the case sometimes; the conductor who brought them to our place had started in the afternoon, and had driven twenty miles through the drifting snow. As the night was dark and the road toward Black Rock not well beaten, we thought we might venture to wait until five o’clock in the morning before we sent them forward. They had been obliged to deviate from the most direct line two or three times, being closely chased by an experienced hunter who had “bought them running,” or at his own risk. Our detectives had misled the fellow, and although we hoped he had become discouraged and gone home, we determined to be careful, and it was well we did.
Rev. Mr. Frink was in our village that evening on a visit to his brother who lived there. Mr. Frink kept a station on the U. G. R. R., in Chautauqua Co., therefore I invited him to have a talk with the fugitives, and also to give us the benefit of his counsel about getting them ​through. One of the boys, named Jim, gave us an interesting account of their adventures. He was a shrewd fellow, and had not intended to run away until the day they started, when he decided to come for the sake of the other two, for, said he, “They couldn’t come without me, they didn’t know how.” They were his particular friends; he thought a “heap” of them, and their mother had learned that they were to be sent South in a drove soon after Christmas. The two boys had always been kept on the plantation, had seldom been beyond its boundaries, while he (Jim) had been a kind of sub-overseer, had been sent to market to assist in driving mules, sometimes had charge of a gang of hands, and was therefore more competent to “find the way out” than the other boys were, and was finally persuaded by their old mother to go with them.
They had been provided with passes to spend Christmas with their relatives on another plantation, but hoping to find friends in another direction, they started towards the Ohio River, sixty miles off. The Christmas festivities, which were being celebrated by the slaves on all the plantations, enabled them to supply themselves with food and shelter at the slave quarters along the way. The weather was unusually cold, and they expected trouble in crossing the Ohio, but when they arrived at the river, above Parkersburg, in Virginia, they found it frozen over—very unconstitutional behavior, certainly, on the part of the river, but as their education had been neglected, it could not be expected that the poor fellows would know that it would be wrong for them to avail themselves of the illegal acts of the Ohio River, so they crossed over on the ice. Never having heard of the U. G. R. R., they had skulked and stumbled along half the way to Lake Erie before they fell into the hands of our agents. ​The first hint that our folks received in relation to them came from the hunters who followed them. They had crossed over into Ohio and begun inquiring for them, when one fell into the company of one of our detectives, who, pretending to sympathize with the scamp, agreed to do what he could to find the track, though I am not sure that he promised to show it to him when he found it. It was soon known in all directions by our agents and conductors that there was “game abroad and hunters close upon the track,” and as they knew the run-ways better than the hunters from Virginia, they soon had the boys under their protection. Judge Paine in northern Ohio, one of our most enterprising Superintendents, directed their movements, and it required all his tact and energy to run them through.
When they had related their adventures and hairbreadth escapes, Rev. Mr. Frink said, “Jim, you told us that you had not intended to come away till you were persuaded to help the boys; now I want to know the reason why you preferred slavery to freedom, when these boys, who evidently do not know half as much as you do, were willing to risk their lives to obtain liberty.” “That’s it,” said Jim, “that’s the very thing. They don’t know. Some don’t know and some does. Niggers that know isn’t all alike; there is two sorts; some is afraid and they run off as soon as they can, others are not afraid and they will stick by their people.” “You say,” said Mr. Frink, “that some know and some don’t know. What do you mean by that?” “Well,” said Jim, “it may be you have heard of Nat Turner and his insurrection.” “Yes,” said Mr. Frink. “Well,” said Jim, “some of the slaves know all about that, and they talk about it all over Virginia, and Kentucky, and Car’lina, and everywhere. They have meetings in the night; they go this way and that way, and tell what is going on ​everywhere; so you see we agree which way is best. We think Nat Turner was a good man, but he couldn’t do much to make us all free, though he scared the white folks awfully. Then they hung Nat Turner, and them that know, say it is best not to try that way again. We hear that a great many white folks are trying to make us all free, and our masters say they will have war and whip the Yankees, and some of us agree to stay and maybe we can do something to help.” “How did you hear all this?” said Frink. “Well,” said Jim, “when they make a President, and the Democrats have a barbecue, and make great speeches and talk big, they say the Whigs are going to free all our niggers, and the Whigs have a barbecue and talk big, and say the Democrats are going to free all the niggers, and more than that, they are going to burn their barns. Now, you see, when old master goes to barbecue, he takes servants along to see to the horses and take care of the old man when he gets drunk, and of course they hear it all, and when we have a meeting they tell all about it. We can’t understand what it all means, but one thing is sure, they get madder and madder every time, and when they come to blows, I always intended to help the side that would help us, whichever that was.”
As Jim appeared to understand about those “ meetings in the night” better than any other we had met, we talked with him until we learned where and through whom we could communicate with the knowing ones, and not long after we wTere able to make connections and open lines far down in the slave States. The leaders of the meetings in the night, meanwhile, were being educated as to who their friends were, and the first gun on Sumter was the signal for an entire change in the operations of the U. G. R. R., and those who had been helped became the helpers. The experienced agents and ​conductors, black though they were, piloted many a white soldier, escaped from Andersonville, Belle Isle, and Libby prison, through swamps and mountain passes to the Union lines, thus repaying all the time and treasure that had been expended in their behalf by this institution. Indeed, for this service, this branch of the U. G. R. R., with negro conductors, was more efficient than any red tape or military organization could have been made, as multitudes of escaped prisoners gratefully testify.
A few weeks after this I was reminded of what Jim said about those meetings in the night, by reading in one of our popular magazines an incident related by a slaveholder to a gentleman who was visiting at his plantation in the sea island cotton region. The slaveholder, whose name was Poindexter, said to his friend, Mr. Hill, “I am exceedingly perplexed about what course to pursue in relation to my negroes. I was surprised, and not a little amused, by what I saw last night. My boy Tom oversees all my hands on this plantation, is the best manager in the county, makes the best crops with the least trouble ; he never whips, and there is no skulking and no sham sickness. He is a Baptist preacher, and all the slaves for miles around come every Sunday to hear him preach. There is, as Tom says, ‘a powerful revival’ in these parts, and he has many times during the past month asked for a pass to go to an island near at hand to hold a meeting in the night, and as he is always on hand in the morning, I usually let him go. Having noticed an unusual sadness in Tom’s countenance of late, and other things in his deportment that seemed peculiar, my curiosity was excited, and I concluded to follow him last night to witness his manner of holding his meeting. He crossed the narrow inlet to the island on the trunk of a fallen tree, and instead of going ​towards the plantation he struck into a narrow path leading through thick bushes towards a dense forest. I managed to follow him nearly half a mile into the woods, when I saw the light of a large fire shining on the tall trees. A few men were sitting around on logs, and others constantly coming, but no women or children. I hid myself near the cleared spot and waited until almost midnight, when I saw a man approach the fire towards whom the negroes (as many as a hundred had arrived), showed a marked respect He immediately stepped on to a stump and commenced a speech, having first called on Tom to say if any spies were about. Tom’s answer being satisfactory, he said, ‘I have come a long way to-night to hear your decision. Tom, we will hear from you.’
“Tom came forward and said in a firm voice, ’I cannot not comsent to this rising. It can do no good. True, word comes all the way from Virginia and Missouri that if we will commence here where there are few white folks, we can make a good start, and soon an army will fill the land and nothing can stand before us; but, my friends, it isn’t so. We can do nothing to better our condition;’ and after repeating a part of the Sermon on the Mount he sat down.
“Then the stranger came forward. He was very black, his face shone in the light of the fire. He stood like a statue, his eyes turned towards the heavens for so long a time that the silence seemed painful. Then the tears started from his eyes ; he commenced in low, musical tones, ‘It’s all over, no man will stand by me! God help us!’ He then began to speak of the injustice of slavery, the cruelties, the licentiousness, the degradation, and such impassioned eloquence I never heard from any man as he exhibited when in his final appeal he called upon them to avenge themselves even though there ​were no hopes of success. He then walked away in another direction from whence he came.
“When he was gone, Tom arose and said, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. I hear that a great many white people pray that God will come down and deliver us, and he will come sure. Let us pray.’ They all knelt while Tom prayed, not for the destruction of their enemies, but that they might repent and deliver the poor slaves from bondage. I came away before he closed his prayer.”
The next morning, about two hours before daylight? our train crossed the Cattaraugus creek on the ice, carrying Jim and his companions towards Canada. Mr. Frink was up and saw the fugitives start, and about sunrise he left for home. When passing a watering trough at the west end of the village, a man was there letting his horse drink. The man spoke to Mr. Frink, and said, “Do you live here, sir?” “No,” said Mr. Frink, “Are you acquainted about here?” “Yes,” replied Mr. Frink. “Well, can you tell me if there are any abolitionists in this town?” “There may be,” said Mr. Frink, “though I could hardly tell who they are. My brother says, ‘we are all Democrats here.’” Mr. Frink had mistrusted the fellow at first sight, and the slave catcher, for it was he, thought, no doubt, that Frink was not an abolitionist, else he would know more about it than he seemed to, so he told his business and offered to pay him handsomely if he would help find the fugitives. “Which way did 5mu come?” said Frink. “From the village of Fredonia,” was the reply. “I hired this horse there, and supposed I was on the right track, but have not been able to trace the fugitives anywhere this side of that town.”
“Did you call on Dr. J. Pettit?”
“No: where does he live?” ​“Just out of town, about a mile from where you got your horse. He is a man that would interest himself in your affairs, and could obtain for you more information than all the rest of the people between here and his place.”
After getting particular directions so as to find the Doctor’s place, the slave hunter thanked Mr. Frink, turned about and drove with all speed, but it was noon when he reined up in front of the said Doctor’s house. He was soon seated by the hospitable old fire-place, and without waiting to get warm he made his business known, and asked if the Doctor could ascertain and let him know anything about where to look for the fugitives; “for,” said he, “I traced them to a place a mile or two west of here, since which I can hear nothing about them.” The Doctor was some time getting a full description of them and then said, “I think I know pretty near where they are noiv “Well,” said he, brightening up, “you will do me a great favor.” “Well,” said the Doctor, “they left here about noon yesterday, and I calculate they are crossing the river at Black Bock about this time.” “Ah! ah! that is the kind of information you are so well prepared to give.” The scene closed with some tall Southern profanity, which was cut short by a request from the lady of the house; she desired him to warm himself as soon as possible and retire, for she did not like to have the children listen to such language.
By the next stage he went to Buffalo, but he was too late. Jim and the boys were safe under the protection of the British Lion.
Jim and his companions were brought from Westfield in a sleigh drawn by Mr. Knowlton’s splendid team. They turned off the main road on the West Hill in Fredonia, and changed cars at Dr. P’s station in Cordova.