 | Incidents in the life of a slave girl |  |
XXXII.
THE MEETING OF MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.
When we arrived in New York, I was half crazed
by the crowd of coachmen calling out, “Carriage,
ma'am?” We bargained with one to take us to
Sullivan Street for twelve shillings. A burly Irishman
stepped up and said, “I'll tak' ye for sax shillings.”
The reduction of half the price was an object to us,
and we asked if he could take us right away. “Troth
an I will, ladies,” he replied. I noticed that the hack-men
smiled at each other, and I inquired whether his
conveyance was decent. “Yes, it's dacent it is, marm.
Devil a bit would I be after takin' ladies in a cab that
was not dacent.” We gave him our checks. He went
for the baggage, and soon reappeared, saying, “This
way, if you plase, ladies.” We followed, and found
our trunks on a truck, and we were invited to take
our seats on them. We told him that was not what we
bargained for, and he must take the trunks off. He
swore they should not be touched till we had paid him
six shillings. In our situation it was not prudent to
attract attention, and I was about to pay him what he
required, when a man near by shook his head for me
not to do it. After a great ado we got rid of the
Irishman, and had our trunks fastened on a hack.
We had been recommended to a boarding-house in
Sullivan Street, and thither we drove. There Fanny
and I separated. The Anti-Slavery Society provided a
circumstances. I sent for an old friend from
my part of the country, who had for some time been
doing business in New York. He came immediately.
I told him I wanted to go to my daughter, and asked
him to aid me in procuring an interview.
I cautioned him not to let it be known to the family
that I had just arrived from the south, because they
supposed I had been at the north seven years. He
told me there was a colored woman in Brooklyn who
came from the same town I did, and I had better go
to her house, and have my daughter meet me there.
I accepted the proposition thankfully, and he agreed
to escort me to Brooklyn. We crossed Fulton ferry,
went up Myrtle Avenue, and stopped at the house he
designated. I was just about to enter, when two girls
passed. My friend called my attention to them. I
turned, and recognized in the eldest, Sarah, the
daughter of a woman who used to live with my grandmother,
but who had left the south years ago. Surprised
and rejoiced at this unexpected meeting, I
threw my arms round her, and inquired concerning
her mother.
“You take no notice of the other girl,” said my
friend. I turned, and there stood my Ellen! I pressed
her to my heart, then held her away from me to take
a look at her. She had changed a good deal in the
two years since I parted from her. Signs of neglect
could be discerned by eyes less observing than a
mother's. My friend invited us all to go into the
house; but Ellen said she had been sent of an errand,
which she would do as quickly as possible, and go
see me. It was agreed that I should send for her the
next day. Her companion, Sarah, hastened to tell her
mother of my arrival. When I entered the house, I
found the mistress of it absent, and I waited for her
return. Before I saw her, I heard her saying, “Where
is Linda Brent? I used to know her father and
mother.” Soon Sarah came with her mother. So
there was quite a company of us, all from my grandmother's
neighborhood. These friends gathered round
me and questioned me eagerly. They laughed, they
cried, and they shouted. They thanked God that I
had got away from my persecutors and was safe on
Long Island. It was a day of great excitement.
How different from the silent days I had passed in
my dreary den!
The next morning was Sunday. My first waking
thoughts were occupied with the note I was to send to
Mrs. Hobbs, the lady with whom Ellen lived. That I
had recently come into that vicinity was evident;
otherwise I should have sooner inquired for my
daughter. It would not do to let them know I had
just arrived from the south, for that would involve the
suspicion of my having been harbored there, and
might bring trouble, if not ruin, on several people.
I like a straightforward course, and am always reluctant
to resort to subterfuges. So far as my ways
have been crooked, I charge them all upon slavery.
It was that system of violence and wrong which now
left me no alternative but to enact a falsehood. I
began my note by stating that I had recently arrived
from Canada, and was very desirous to have my
message from Mrs. Hobbs, inviting me to her house,
and assuring me that I need not have any fears. The
conversation I had with my child did not leave my mind
at ease. When I asked if she was well treated, she
answered yes; but there was no heartiness in the
tone, and it seemed to me that she said it from an
unwillingness to have me troubled on her account.
Before she left me, she asked very earnestly, “Mother,
when will you take me to live with you?” It made
me sad to think that I could not give her a home till
I went to work and earned the means; and that
might take me a long time. When she was placed
with Mrs. Hobbs, the agreement was that she should
be sent to school. She had been there two years,
and was now nine years old, and she scarcely knew
her letters. There was no excuse for this, for there
were good public schools in Brooklyn, to which she
could have been sent without expense.
She staid with me till dark, and I went home with
her. I was received in a friendly manner by the
family, and all agreed in saying that Ellen was a
useful, good girl. Mrs. Hobbs looked me coolly in the
face, and said, “I suppose you know that my cousin,
Mr. Sands, has given her to my eldest daughter. She
will make a nice waiting-maid for her when she grows
up.” I did not answer a word. How could she, who
knew by experience the strength of a mother's love,
and who was perfectly aware of the relation Mr. Sands
bore to my children, — how could she look me in the
face, while she thrust such a dagger into my heart?
I was no longer surprised that they had kept her in
such a state of ignorance. Mr. Hobbs had formerly
a subordinate situation in the Custom House.
Perhaps they expected to return to the south some day;
and Ellen's knowledge was quite sufficient for a slave's
condition. I was impatient to go to work and earn
money, that I might change the uncertain position of
my children. Mr. Sands had not kept his promise to
emancipate them. I had also been deceived about
Ellen. What security had I with regard to Benjamin?
I felt that I had none.
I returned to my friend's house in an uneasy state
of mind. In order to protect my children, it was
necessary that I should own myself. I called myself
free, and sometimes felt so; but I knew I was insecure.
I sat down that night and wrote a civil letter to Dr.
Flint, asking him to state the lowest terms on which he
would sell me; and as I belonged by law to his daughter,
I wrote to her also, making a similar request.
Since my arrival at the north I had not been unmindful
of my dear brother William. I had made
diligent inquiries for him, and having heard of him
in Boston, I went thither. When I arrived there, I
found he had gone to New Bedford. I wrote to that
place, and was informed he had gone on a whaling
voyage, and would not return for some months. I
went back to New York to get employment near Ellen.
I received an answer from Dr. Flint, which gave me
no encouragement. He advised me to return and
submit myself to my rightful owners, and then any
request I might make would be granted. I lent this
letter to a friend, who lost it; otherwise I would present
a copy to my readers.
| Incidents in the life of a slave girl | |