University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER VI

ABDUCTION OF SLAVES FROM THE SOUTH

Most persons that engaged in the underground service were
opposed either to enticing or to abducting slaves from the
South. This was no less true along the southern border of the
free states than in their interior. The principle generally
acted upon by the friends of fugitives was that which they
held to be voiced in the Scriptural injunction to feed the
hungry and clothe the naked. The quaking negro at the
door in the dead of night seeking relief from a condition,
the miseries of which he found intolerable and for which he
was in no proper sense responsible, was a figure to be pitied,
and to be helped without delay. Under such circumstances
there was no room for casuistry in the mind of the abolitionist.
The response of his warm nature was as decisive as
his favorite passage of Scripture was imperative. The fugitive
was fed, clothed if necessary, and guided to another
friend farther on. But abolitionists were unwilling, for the
most part, to involve themselves more deeply in danger by
abducting slaves from thraldom. The Rev. John B. Mahan,
one of the early anti-slavery men of southern Ohio, expressed
this fact when he said, "I am confident that few, if any, for
various reasons, would invade the jurisdiction of another
state to give aid and encouragement to slaves to escape from
their owners. . . . "[1] And in northern Ohio, in so radical
a town as Oberlin, a famous station of the Underground
Road, we are told that there was no sentiment in favor of
enticing slaves away, and that this was never done except in
one case—by Calvin Fairbank, a student.[2]

The general disinclination to induce escapes of slaves,
either by secret invitation or by persons serving as guides,
renders the few cases conspicuous, and gives them considerable
interest. When instances of this kind became known
to the slave-owners, as for example, by the arrest and imprisonment
of some over-venturesome offender, the irritation
resulting on both sides of Mason and Dixon's line was apt to
be disproportionate to the magnitude of the cause. Nevertheless
the aggravation of sectional feeling thus produced
was real, and was valued by some Northern agitators as a
means to a better understanding of the system of slavery.[3]

The largest number of abduction cases occurred through
the activities of those well-disposed towards fugitives by the
attachments of race. There were many negroes, enslaved
and free, along the southern boundaries of New Jersey, Pennsylvania,
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Iowa, whose opportunities
were numerous for conveying fugitives to free soil with
slight risk to themselves. These persons sometimes did
scarcely more than ferry runaways across a stream or direct
them to the homes of friends residing near the line of a free
state. In the vicinity of Martin's Ferry, Ohio, there lived
a colored man who frequented the Virginia shore for the
purpose of persuading slaves to run away. He was in the
habit of imparting the necessary information, and then displaying
himself in an intoxicated condition, feigned or real,
to avoid suspicion. At last he was found out, but escaped
by betaking himself to Canada.[4] In the neighborhood of
Portsmouth, Ohio, slaves were conveyed across the river by
one Poindexter, a barber of the town of Jackson.[5] In
Baltimore, Maryland, two colored women, who engaged in
selling vegetables, were efficient in starting fugitives on the
way to Philadelphia.[6] At Louisville, Kentucky, Wash Spradley,
a shrewd negro, was instrumental in helping many of
his enslaved brethren out of bondage.[7] These few instances

will suffice to illustrate the secret enterprises conducted by
colored persons on both sides of the sectional line once dividing
the North from the South.

Another class of colored persons that undertook the work
of delivering some of their race from the cruel uncertainties
of slavery may be found among the refugees of Canada.
Describing the early development of the movement of slaves
to Canada, Dr. Samuel G. Howe says of these persons, "Some,
not content with personal freedom and happiness, went
secretly back to their old homes and brought away their
wives and children at much peril and cost."[8] It has been
stated that the number of these persons visiting the South
annually was about five hundred.[9] Mr. D. B. Hodge, of
Lloydsville, Ohio, gives the case of a negro that went to
Canada by way of New Athens, and in the course of a year
returned over the same route, went to Kentucky, and brought
away his wife and two children, making his pilgrimage northward
again after the lapse of about two months.[10] Another
case, reported by Mr. N. C. Buswell, of Neponset, Illinois, is
as follows: A slave, Charlie, belonging to a Missouri planter
living near Quincy, Illinois, escaped to Canada by way of one
of the underground routes. Ere long he decided to return
and get his wife, but found she had been sold South. When
making his second journey eastward he brought with him
a family of slaves, who preferred freedom to remaining as the
chattels of his old master. This was the first of a number of
such trips made by the fugitive Charlie.[11] Mr. Seth Linton,[12]
who was familiar with the work on a line of this Road running
through Clinton County, Ohio, reports that a fugitive
that had passed along the route returned after some months,
saying he had come back to rescue his wife. His absence in
the slave state continued so long that it was feared he had
been captured, but after some weeks he reappeared, bringing

his wife and her father with him. He told of having seen
many slaves in the country and said they would be along as
soon as they could escape. The following year the Clinton
County line was unusually busy. A brave woman named
Armstrong escaped with her husband and one child to Canada
in 1842. Two years later she determined to rescue the remainder
of her family from the Kentucky plantation where
she had left them, and, disguised as a man, she went back to
the old place. Hiding near a spring, where her children
were accustomed to get water, she was able to give instructions
to five of them, and the following night she departed with
her flock to an underground station at Ripley, Ohio.[13]

Equally zealous in the slaves' behalf with the groups of
persons mentioned in the last two paragraphs were certain
individuals of Southern birth and white parentage, who found
the opportunity to conduct slaves beyond the confines of the
plantation states. Robert Purvis tells of the son of a planter,
who sometimes travelled into the free states with a retinue of
body-servants for the purpose of having them fall into the hands
of vigilant abolitionists. The author has heard similar stories
in regard to the sons of Kentucky slave-owners, but the names
of the parties concerned were withheld for obvious reasons.

John Fairfield, a Virginian, devoted much time and thought
to abducting slaves. Levi Coffin, who knew him intimately,
describes him as a person full of contradictions, who, although
a Southerner by birth, and living the greater part of
the time in the South, yet hated slavery; a person lacking
in moral quality, but devoted to the interests of the slave.[14]
John Fairfield's ostensible business was, at times, that of a
poultry and provision dealer; and his views, when he was
among planters, were pro-slavery. Nevertheless his abiding
interest seems to have been to despoil slaveholders of their
human property. He made excursions into various parts of
the South, and led many companies safely through to Canada.
While Laura Haviland was serving as a mission teacher in
Canada West (1852–1853), Fairfield arrived at Windsor,

bringing with him twenty-seven slaves. Mrs. Haviland, who
witnessed the happy conclusion of this adventure, testifies
that it was but one of many, and that the abductor often
made expeditions into the heart of the slaveholdmg states to
secure his companies. On the occasion of the arrival of the
Virginian with the twenty-seven a reception and dinner were
given in his honor by appreciative friends in one of the
churches of the colored people, and a sort of jubilee was
celebrated. The ecstasies of some of the guests, among them
an old negro woman over eighty years of age, touched the
heart of their benefactor, who exclaimed, "This pays me for
all dangers I have faced in bringing this company, just to see
these friends meet."[15]

Northern men residing or travelling in the South were sometimes
tempted to encourage slaves to flee to Canada, or even
to plan and execute abductions. Jacob Cummings, a slave
belonging to a small planter, James Smith, of southeastern
Tennessee, was befriended by a Mr. Leonard, of Chattanooga,
who had become an abolitionist in Albany, New York, before
his removal to the South. Cummings was occasionally sent
on errands to Mr. Leonard's store. This gave the Northerner
the desired opportunity to show his slave customer where

Ohio and Indiana are on the map, and to advise him to go to
Canada. As Cummings had a "hard master" he did not
long delay his going.[16]

The risks and costs of a long trip were not too great for the
enthusiastic abolitionist who felt that immediate rescue must
be attempted. One remarkable incident illustrates the determination
sometimes displayed in freeing a slave. Two
brothers from Connecticut settled in the District of Columbia
about the year 1848. They became gardeners, and employed
among their hands a colored woman, who was hired out to
them by her master. Soon after the passage of the Fugitive
Slave Law (1850) she came weeping to her employers with
the news that she was to be sold "down South." Stirred by
her impending misfortune, one of the brothers had a large
box made, within which he nailed the slave-woman and her
young daughter. With the box in his market-wagon he set
out on a long, arduous trip across Maryland and Pennsylvania
into New York. After three weeks of travel he reached his
journey's end at Warsaw. Here he delivered his charge to
the care of friends, among whom they found a permanent
home.[17]

There were ardent abolitionists living almost within sight of
slave territory that had no scruples about helping slaves across
the line and passing them on to freedom. In 1836, Dr.
David Nelson, a Virginian, who had freed his slaves and moved
to Marion County, Missouri, and had there founded Marion
College, was driven into Illinois on account of his anti-slavery
views. He settled at Quincy, and soon established the Mission
Institute, which was chiefly a school for the education of missionaries.
Mr. N. A. Hunt, now eighty-five years old but
apparently of clear mind, was a student in Mission Institute
in its early years. He relates an incident showing the spirit
existing in the school, a spirit that manifested itself a little
later in the actions of Messrs Burr, Work and Thompson.
His story is that Dr. Nelson came to him one day in the

spring of 1839 or 1840, and asked him to go with another
student across the Mississippi River and patrol the shore opposite
Quincy. The students were to make signals at intervals
by tapping stones together, and if their signals were answered
they were to help such as needed help by conducting them
to a place of safety, a station on the Underground Railroad,
sixteen miles east of Quincy. The station could be easily
recognized, for it was a red barn. The time chosen for crossing
the river was always a Sunday night, a time known to be
the best for the persons sometimes found waiting on the other
side. This detailing of a watch from the school was regularly
done, although with what results is not known.[18]

Among the students attending this Institute in 1841 were
James E. Burr and George Thompson. These young men,
together with a villager, Alanson Work, arranged with two
slaves to convey them from bondage in Missouri. The abductors
found themselves surrounded by a crowd of angry
Missourians, and were speedily committed to jail in Palmyra.
To insure the conviction of the prisoners three indictments
were brought against them, one charging them with "stealing
slaves, another with attempting to steal them, and the
other with intending to make the attempt."[19] Conviction was
a foregone conclusion. Work and his companions were pronounced
guilty and sentenced to twelve years' imprisonment.
These men were not required, however, to serve out their
terms. Mr. Work was pardoned after three and a half years
on the unjust condition that he return with his wife and children
to the State of Connecticut, his former residence. Mr.
Burr was released at the end of a little more than four years
and six months, and Mr. Thompson after nearly five years'
imprisonment. The anti-slavery character of Mission Institute
at length brought down upon it the wrath of the Missourians.
One winter night a party from Marion County
crossed the Mississippi River on the ice, stealthily marched
to the Institute, and set it on fire.[20]

In southern Indiana operations similar to those of the
students of the Mission Institute were carried on by a supposedly
inoffensive pedler of notions, Joseph Sider. With
his large convenient wagon Sider traversed some of the
border counties of Kentucky, supplying goods to his customers;
one of his boxes was reserved for disguises for
negroes that wished to cast off the garments of slavery.
Sider's method involved the use of his vehicle for long trips
to the Ohio River, where the passengers were conveyed by
boat to a place of safety, and told to remain concealed until
the wagon and team could be transported by ferry the following
morning. So simple a plan did not excite suspicion, and
served to carry fugitives rapidly forward to some line of
underground traffic.[21]

Among those invasions of the South that caused considerable
excitement at the time of their occurrence, the cases of
Calvin Fairbank, Seth Concklin and John Brown are notable;
and accounts of them cannot well be omitted from these
pages, even though they may be more or less familiar to the
reader. Mr. Calvin Fairbank came of English stock, and
was born in Wyoming County, New York, in 1816. His
home training as well as his attendance at Oberlin College
furnished him with anti-slavery views, but the circumstance
to which he traced his hearty hatred of the Southern institution
arose by chance, when as a boy he was attending quarterly
meeting with his parents. "It happened that my
family was assigned," he relates, "to the good, clean home
of a pair of escaped slaves. One night after service I sat on
the hearthstone before the fire, and listened to the woman's
story of sorrow. . . . My heart wept, my anger was kindled,
and antagonism to slavery was fixed upon me."[22] In the
spring of 1837 young Fairbank was sent by his father down
the Ohio River in charge of a raft of lumber. A little below
Wheeling he saw a large, active-looking, black man on the
Virginia shore, going to the woods with his axe. He found

the woodsman to be a slave, soon gained his confidence, and
set him across the river on the raft. A few days later Mr.
Fairbank moored his rude craft, and landed on the Kentucky
shore opposite the mouth of the Little Miami River.
Here he was approached by an old slave-woman, who sought
the liberation of her seven children. The matter was easily
arranged, and after dark the seven were speedily conveyed
across the river.[23]

The rescue of Lewis Hayden and his family was the means
of bringing Mr. Fairbank to the penitentiary, while it opened
to his friend Hayden an honorable career in New England.
Mr. Hayden became a respected citizen of Boston, and helped
to organize the Vigilance Committee for the purpose of protecting
the refugees that were settling in the city; in course
of time he came to serve in the legislature of the State of
Massachusetts. His wife, who survived him, made a bequest
of an estate of about five thousand dollars to Harvard University
to found a scholarship for the benefit of deserving
colored students.[24] The story of Hayden's delivery and of
his own imprisonment is best told in Mr. Fairbank's words:
"Lewis Hayden . . . was, when a young man, . . . the
property of Baxter and Grant, owners of the Brennan House,
in Lexington. Hayden's wife, Harriet, and his son, a lad of
ten years when I first knew them, were the slaves of Patrick
Baine. On a September evening in 1844, accompanied by
Miss D. A. Webster, a young Vermont lady, who was associated
with me in teaching, I left Lexington with the Haydens,
in a hack, crossed the Ohio River on a ferry at nine the next
morning, changed horses, and drove to an Underground Railroad
depot at Hopkins, Ohio, where we left Hayden and his
family. . . . When Miss Webster and I returned to Lexington,
after two days' absence, we were both arrested, charged
by their master with helping Hayden's wife and son to escape.
We were jointly indicted, but Miss Webster was tried
first and sentenced to two years' imprisonment in the penitentiary
at Frankfort. . . . While my case was still pending
I learned that the governor was inclined to pardon Miss

Webster, but first insisted that I should be tried. When
called up for trial in February, 1845, I pleaded guilty, and
received a sentence of fifteen years. I served four years and
eleven months, and then, August 23, 1849, was released by
Governor John J. Crittenden, the able and patriotic man
who afterwards saved Kentucky to the Union."[25]

In spite of his incarceration for aiding slaves to escape, and
in the face of the heavier penalties laid by the new Fugitive
Slave Law, passed shortly after his release from prison, Calvin
Fairbank was soon engaged in similar enterprises. He
declares, "I resisted its [the law's] execution whenever and
wherever possible."[26] A little more than two years after his
pardon Mr. Fairbank was again arrested, this time in Indiana,
for carrying off Tamar, a young mulatto woman, who was
claimed as property by A. L. Shotwell, of Louisville, Kentucky.
Without process of law Mr. Fairbank was taken from
the State of Indiana to Louisville, where he was tried in
February, 1853. He was again sentenced to the state prison
for a term of fifteen years, and while there was frequently
subjected to the most brutal treatment. Altogether Mr.
Fairbank spent seventeen years and four months of his life
in prison for abducting slaves; he says that during his second
term he received at the hands of prison officials thirty-five
thousand stripes.[27] Having served more than twelve years of
his second sentence, he was pardoned by acting Governor
Richard T. Jacob. It was a singular occurrence that finally
enabled Mr. Fairbank to regain his liberty. Among the
friends upon whose favor he could rely was the lieutenant-governor
of Kentucky, Richard T. Jacob, the son-in-law of
Thomas H. Benton, of Missouri. Mr. Jacob was a man of
strong anti-slavery tendencies, notwithstanding his political
prominence and his private interests as a wealthy planter.
The governor, Thomas E. Bramlette, was opposed to extending
the executive clemency to so notorious an offender as
Mr. Fairbank. Early in 1864 General Speed S. Fry was
detailed by President Lincoln to enroll all the negroes of

Kentucky, but he came into collision with Governor Bramlette,
who sought to prevent General Fry from carrying out
his orders. Upon receiving information to this effect the
President summoned the executive of Kentucky to Washington
to answer to charges; and thereupon Mr. Jacob became
acting governor. On his first day in office the new executive
of Kentucky was accosted by General Fry with the remark,
"Governor, the President thinks it would be well to make
this Fairbank's day." On the morning following, the prisoner
received a full and free pardon.[28]

Mr. Fairbank gives many interesting devices that he
employed in his work to throw off pursuit. "Forty-seven
slaves I guided toward the north star, in violation of the
state codes of Virginia and Kentucky. I piloted them through
the forests, mostly by night; girls, fair and white, dressed as
ladies; men and boys, as gentlemen, or servants; men in
women's clothes, and women in men's clothes; boys dressed
as girls, and girls as boys; on foot or on horseback, in
buggies, carriages, common wagons, in and under loads of
hay, straw, old furniture, boxes and bags; crossing the Jordan
of the slave, swimming or wading chin deep; or in boats,
or skiffs; on rafts, and often on a pine log. And I never
suffered one to be recaptured."[29]

About 1850, Seth Concklin, a resident of Philadelphia,
learned of the remarkable escape of Peter Still from Alabama
to the Quaker City. Here the runaway was most happily
favored in finding friends. William Still, his brother, from
whom he had been separated by kidnappers long years
before, was discovered almost immediately in the office of
the Pennsylvania Anti-Slavery Society; and Seth Concklin
soon proffered himself as an agent to go into the South and
bring away Peter Still's family. The fugitive himself first
visited Alabama to see what could be done for his wife and
children; but failing to accomplish anything he gratefully
accepted the offer of the daring Philadelphian. Mr. Concklin
expected to assume the character of a slave-owner and

bring the Stills away as his servants; he found, however, that
the steamboats on the Tennessee River were too irregular to
be depended on. He therefore returned north to Indiana,
and arranged for the escape of the slave family across that
state to Canada. The story of his second attempt at the
South has a tragic ending, notwithstanding its favorable
beginning. Having made a safe start and a long journey of
seven days and nights in a rowboat the whole party was
captured in southwestern Indiana. A letter from the Rev.
N. R. Johnston to William Still, written soon after the catastrophe,
gives the following account of the affair: "On last
Tuesday I mailed a letter to you, written by Seth Concklin.
I presume you have received that letter. It gave an account
of the rescue of the family of your brother. If that is the
last news you have had from them I have very painful intelligence
for you. They passed on (north) from near Princeton,
where I saw them. . . . I think twenty-three miles
above Vincennes, Ind., they were seized by a party of men,
and lodged in jail. Telegraphic despatches were sent all
through the South. I have since learned that the marshal
of Evansville received a despatch from Tuscumbia to look
out for them. By some means, he and the master, so says
report, went to Vincennes and claimed the fugitives, chained
Mr. Concklin, and hurried all off. . . ."[30] In a postscript,
the same letter gave the rumor of Seth Concklin's escape
from the boat on which he was being carried South; but the
newspapers brought reports of a different nature. Their
statements represented that the man "Miller"—that is,
Concklin—"was found drowned, with his hands and feet in
chains and his skull fractured."[31] The version of the tragedy
given by the claimant of the fugitives, McKiernon, was
as follows: "Some time last march a white man by the name
of Miller appeared in the nabourhood and abducted the
above negroes, was caught at vincanes, Indi. with said negroes
and was thare convicted of steling and remanded back
to Ala. to Abide the penalty of the law and on his return
met his Just reward by getting drowned at the mouth of
cumberland River on the Ohio in attempting to make his
escape."[32] Just how Concklin met his death will probably
always remain a mystery. McKiernon's letter offered terms
for the purchase of the poor slaves, but they were so exorbitant
that they could not be accepted. Besides, it was not
deemed proper to jeopardize the life of another agent on a
mission so dangerous.

It is well known that John Brown aided fugitive slaves
whenever the opportunity occurred, as did his Puritan-bred
father before him. We have no record, however, of his abducting
slaves from the South except in the case of his
famous raid into Missouri in 1858. This exploit has a peculiar
interest for us, not only as one of the most notable abductions,
but as being, in a special way, the prelude of that
great plan in behalf of the enslaved that he sought to carry
out at Harper's Ferry. After Captain Brown's return from
the Eastern states to Kansas in 1858, he and his men encamped
for a few days at Bain's Fort. While here, Brown
was appealed to by a slave, Jim Daniels, the chattel of one
James Lawrence, of Missouri. Daniels had heard of Captain
Brown, and, securing a permit to go about and sell brooms,
had used it in making his way to Brown's camp.[33] His
prayer was "For help to get away," because he was soon to
be sold, together with his wife, two children and a negro
man.[34] Such a supplication could not be made in vain to
John Brown. On the following night (December 20)
Brown's raid into Missouri was made. Brown himself gives
the account of it:[35] "Two small companies were made up to
go to Missouri and forcibly liberate the five slaves, together

SAMUEL HARPER AND WIFE,
of Windsor, Ontario,

the two survivors of the company of slaves abducted by John
Brown from Missouri in the winter of 1858–1859.

ELLEN CRAFT.

Disguised as a young planter, she escaped to Boston in 1848, bringing
her husband with her as a valet.

(From a portrait in possession of the Hon. Simeon Dodge, of Marblehead, Mass.)

with other slaves. One of these companies I assumed to direct.
We proceeded to the place, surrounded the buildings,
liberated the slaves, and also took certain property supposed
to belong to the estate.

"We, however, learned before leaving that a portion of the
articles we had taken belonged to a man living on the plantation
as a tenant, and who was supposed to have no interest
in the estate. We promptly returned to him all we had taken.
We then went to another plantation, where we found five
more slaves; took some property and two white men. We
moved all slowly away into the territory for some distance
and then sent the white men back, telling them to follow us
as soon as they chose to do so. The other company freed
one female slave, took some property, and, as I am informed,
killed one white man (the master) who fought
against liberation. . . ."[36]

The company responsible for the shooting of the slave-owner,
David Cruse, was in charge of Kagi and Charles
Stephens, also known as Whipple. When this party came
to the house of Mr. Cruse the family had retired. There was
no hesitation, however, on the part of the strangers in requesting
quarters for the night. Mrs. Cruse, her suspicions fully
aroused, handed her husband his pistol. Jean Harper, the
slave-woman that was taken from this house, asserts that her
master would certainly have fired upon the intruders had not
Whipple used his revolver first, with deadly effect. When
the two squads came together the march back to Bain's Fort
was begun. On the way thither Brown asked the slaves if
they wanted to be free, and then promised to take them to a
free country. Thus was Brown led to undertake one of his
boldest adventures, one of the boldest indeed in the history of
the Underground Road. With a mere handful of men he purposed
to escort his band of freedmen on a journey of twenty-five
hundred miles to Canada, in the dead of winter, and
surrounded by the dangers that the publicity of his foray and
the announcement of a reward of three thousand dollars for
his arrest were likely to bring upon him. Brown and his

company tarried only one day at Bain's Fort; then proceeded
northward by way of Osawattomie, the house of Major J. B.
Abbot near Lawrence, and Topeka, then to the place of his
friend, Dr. Doyle, five miles beyond, and thence via Holton
into Nebraska. Lawrence was reached January 24, 1859.
At Holton a party of pursuers, two or three times as large
as Brown's company, was dispersed in instant and ridiculous
flight, and four prisoners and five horses were taken. The
trip, after leaving Holton, was made amidst great perils.
Under an escort of seventeen" Topeka boys "Brown pressed
rapidly on to Nebraska City. At this point the passage
of the Missouri was made on the ice, and the liberators
with their charges arrived at Tabor in the first week of
February. Here, Brown met with rebuff, "contrary to his
expectation, and contrary to the whole former attitude
of the people," we are told, "he was not welcomed, but,
at a public meeting called for the purpose, was severely
reprimanded as a disturber of the peace and safety of the
village. Effecting a hasty departure from Tabor, and taking
advantage of the protection offered by a few friendly families
on the way, he and his party of fugitives came, on February
20,1859, to Grinnell, Iowa, where they were cordially received
by the Hon. J. B. Grinnell, who entertained them in his house.
Brown's next stop was made at Springdale, which place he
reached on February 25. Here the fugitives were distributed
among the Quaker families for safety and rest before continuing
the journey to Canada. But soon rumors were afloat
of the coming of the United States marshal, and it became
necessary to secure for the negroes railroad transportation
to Chicago. Kagi and Stephens, disguised as sportsmen,
walked to Iowa City, enlisted the services of Mr. William
Penn Clark, an influential anti-slavery citizen of that place, and
by his efforts, supplemented by those of Hon. J. B. Grinnell,
a freight car was got and held in readiness at West Liberty.
The negroes were then brought down from Springdale (distant
but six miles) and, after spending a night in a grist-mill
near the railway station, were ready to embark."[37] They were
stowed away in the freight-car by Brown, Kagi and Stephens
and the car was made fast to a train from the West on the
Chicago and Rock Island Road. "On reaching Chicago
Brown and his party were taken into friendly charge by
Allen Pinkerton, the famous detective, and started for Detroit.
On March 10 they were in Detroit and practically a
their journey's end."[38] On the twelfth the freedmen were
under Brown's direction, ferried across the Detroit River
to Windsor, Canada.

The trip from southern Kansas to the Canadian destinatior
had consumed three weeks. The restoration of twelve per
sons to "their natural and inalienable rights with but one man
killed"[39] was a result which Brown seems to have regarded as
justifiable, but one the tragedy of which he certainly deplored.[40]
The manner in which this result had been accomplished was
highly dramatic, and created great excitement throughout the
country, especially in Missouri. Brown's biographer, James
Redpath, writing in 1860, speaks thus of the consternation
in the invaded state: "When the news of the invasion of
Missouri spread, a wild panic went with it, which in a few
days resulted in clearing Bates and Vernon counties of their
slaves. Large numbers were sold south; many ran into the
Territory and escaped; others were removed farther inland
When John Brown made his invasion there were five hundred
slaves in that district where there are not fifty negroes now."[41]
The success of the expedition just narrated was well fitted
to increase confidence in John Brown's determination, and to
arouse enthusiasm among his numerous refugee friends in
Canada. The story of the adventure was not unlikely to
penetrate the remote regions of the South, and perhaps find
lodgment in the retentive memories of many slaves. The
publication in the New York Tribune of his letter defending
his abduction of the Missouri chattels just as he was begin

ning his journey east shows that Brown was not unwilling
to have his act widely known. It was almost the middle
of March when Brown arrived in Canada; his letter had been
made public in January; it had had ample time for circulation.
Before he left Kansas he said significantly, "He would
soon remove the seat of the trouble elsewhere,"[42] and it was
but six months after his arrival in Canada that the attack on
Harper's Ferry was made.

For more than ten years John Brown had cherished a plan
for the liberation of the slaves, in which abduction was to
be in a measure employed. This plan he had revealed to
Frederick Douglass as early as 1847. It is given in Douglass'
words:" 'The true object to be sought,' said Brown, 'is first
of all to destroy the money value of slave property; and that
can only be done by rendering such property insecure. My
plan then is to take at first about twenty-five picked men, and
begin on a small scale; supply them arms and ammunition;
post them in squads of five on a line of twenty-five miles, the
most persuasive and judicious of whom shall go down to the
fields from time to time, as opportunity offers, and induce
the slaves to join them, seeking and selecting the most restless
and daring.' . . . With care and enterprise he thought
he could soon gather a force of one hundred hardy men. . . .
When these were properly drilled, . . . they would run off
the slaves in larger numbers, retain the brave and strong ones
in the mountains, and send the weak and timid to the North
by the Underground Railroad: his operations would be enlarged
with increasing numbers, and would not be confined
to one locality. . . . 'If,' said Brown, 'we could drive slavery
out of one county, . . . it would weaken the system
throughout the state.' The enemy's country would afford
subsistence, the fastnesses of the Alleghanies abundant protection,
and a series of stations through Pennsylvania to the
Canadian border a means of egress for timid slaves."[43]

The plot, as disclosed eleven years later to Richard J. Hinton
(September, 1858) by Brown's lieutenant, Kagi, contains

some additional details of interest. Hinton says: "The
mountains of Virginia were named as the place of refuge,
and as a country admirably adapted in which to carry on
a guerilla warfare. In the course of the conversation,
Harper's Ferry was mentioned as a point to be seized—but
not held—on account of the arsenal. The white members of
the company were to act as officers of different guerilla bands,
which, under the general command of John Brown, were to
be composed of Canadian refugees, and the Virginian slaves
who would join them. . . . They anticipated, after the first
blow had been struck, that, by the aid of the free and Canadian
negroes who would join them, they could inspire confidence
in the slaves, and induce them to rally. No intention
was expressed of gathering a large body of slaves, and removing
them to Canada. On the contrary, Kagi clearly
stated, in answer to my inquiries, that the design was to
make the fight in the mountains of Virginia, extending it
to North Carolina and Tennessee, and also to the swamps
of South Carolina, if possible. Their purpose was not the
expatriation of one or a thousand slaves, but their liberation
in the states wherein they were born, and were now held in
bondage. . . . Kagi spoke of having marked out a chain
of counties extending continuously through South Carolina,
Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi. He had traveled over a
large portion of the region indicated, and from his own personal
knowledge and with the assistance of the Canadian
negroes who had escaped from those States, they had arranged
a general plan of attack. . . . They expected to be speedily
and constantly reinforced; first, by the arrival of those men
who, in Canada, were anxiously looking and praying for the
time of deliverance, and then by the slaves themselves. . . .
The constitution adopted at Chatham [in the spring of 1858]
was intended as the framework of organization among the
emancipationists, to enable the leaders to effect a more complete
control of their forces. . . ."[44] A comparison of these
two versions of Brown's plan of liberation leads to the conclusion
that the abduction of slaves to the North was a
measure to which the liberator never attached more importance
than as a means of ridding his men of the care of
helpless slaves; the brave he would use in organizing an
insurrection amid the mountains of the Southern states that
should wipe away the curse of slavery from the country.

It will be remembered that the occasion, if not the cause,
of John Brown's raid into Missouri was the solicitation of
aid by a slave for himself and companions. Such prayers
for succor were not infrequently addressed to abolitionists
by those in bonds or by their refugee friends. In the antislavery
host there were many whose principles wavered not
under any test applied to them, and whose impulses urged
them upon humanitarian missions, however hemmed in by
difficulties and dangers. Among those who heard and answered
the cry of the slave were the Rev. Charles T. Torrey,
Captain Jonathan Walker, Mrs. Laura S. Haviland, Captain
Daniel Drayton, Richard Dillingham, William L. Chaplin
and Josiah Henson.

The variety of persons represented in this short, incomplete
list is interesting: Mr. Torrey was a Congregational clergyman
of New England stock, and had been educated at Yale
College; Messrs. Walker and Drayton were masters of sailing
vessels, and came from the states of Massachusetts and New
Jersey respectively; Mrs. Haviland was a Wesleyan Methodist,
who founded a school or institute in southeastern Michigan
for both white and colored persons; Richard Dillingham
was a Quaker school-teacher in Cincinnati, Ohio; William L.
Chaplin began his professional life as a lawyer in eastern
Massachusetts, but soon became the editor of an anti-slavery
newspaper; and Josiah Henson was a fugitive slave, one of
the founders of the Dawn Institute in Canada West. With
the exception of the last named they were white persons,
whose sense of the injustice of slavery caused them to take
a stand that shut them out of that conventionally respectable
society to which their birth, education and talents would have
admitted them.

In 1838 Charles T. Torrey resigned from the pastorate of
a Congregational church in Providence, Rhode Island, and
relinquished ease and quiet to engage in the anti-slavery

struggle then agitating the country. He became a lecturer
and a newspaper correspondent, and, early in the forties, the
editor of a paper called The Patriot, at Albany, New York.
While acting as Washington correspondent for several
Northern papers he attended a convention of slave-owners
at Annapolis, Maryland, in 1842, and was thrust into jail
on the score of being an abolitionist. He was released after
several days, having been placed under bonds to keep the
peace. While in prison he solemnly reconsecrated himself
to the work of freeing the slaves. Within a year from this
time a refugee entreated Mr. Torrey to help him bring his
wife and children from Virginia. The errand was undertaken,
but came to a most mournful end. Arrested and
imprisoned, Mr. Torrey with others attempted to break jail;
he was betrayed, however, and at length, December 30,
1843, sentenced to the penitentiary for six years. Under the
severities of prison life Mr. Torrey's health gave way. His
pardon was sought by friends, but mercy was withheld from
a man the depth of whose conviction made recantation impossible.
In December, 1844, he wrote: "I cannot afford to
concede any truth or principle to get out of prison. I am
not rich enough." While his trial was pending he wrote his
friend, Henry B. Stanton: "If I am a guilty man, I am a very
guilty one; for I have aided nearly four hundred slaves to
escape to freedom, the greater part of whom would probably,
but for my exertions, have died in slavery." Concerning this
confession Henry Wilson writes: "This statement was corroborated
by the testimony of Jacob Gibbs, a colored man, who
was Mr. Torrey's chief assistant in his efforts."[45] On May 9,
1846, Mr. Torrey died in prison. In death as in life, the
lesson of the clergyman's career proclaimed but one truth,
the injustice of slavery. When the remains of Mr. Torrey
were conveyed to Boston for interment in the beautiful
cemetery at Mt. Auburn, the use of Park Street Church, at
first granted, was later refused to the brother-in-law of the
dead minister, although as a worshipper he was entitled to
Christian courtesy. Tremont Temple was procured for the
funeral services, and was thronged by a multitude eager to
do honor to a life of self-sacrifice, and show disapproval of
the affront to the dead. A large meeting in Faneuil Hall
on the evening of the funeral day paid tribute to the memory
of the liberator. The occasion was made memorable by a
poem by James Russell Lowell, and addresses by General
Fessenden of Maine, Henry B. Stanton and Dr. Walter
Channing. Whittier wrote: "His work for the poor and
helpless was well and nobly done. In the wild woods of
Canada, around many a happy fireside and holy family altar,
his name is on the lips of God's poor. He put his soul in
their soul's stead; he gave his life for those who had no
claim on his love save that of human brotherhood."[46]

In 1844, the year after Mr. Torrey's disastrous attempt to
abduct a slave-family, Captain Jonathan Walker was made
a victim of the law on account of friendly offices undertaken
in behalf of some trusting negroes. Once, while on the
coast of Florida, Mr. Walker consented to carry seven slaves
from Pensacola to the Bahamas, eight hundred miles away,
where they might enjoy the freedom vouchsafed by English
law. Though suffering from sunstroke, Captain Walker set
sail with the company, but his small craft was soon overhauled,
and the escaping party was taken into custody.
After two trials Captain Walker was condemned to punishments
that remind one strongly of the barbarous penalties
inflicted upon offenders in the reign of Charles the First of
England: he was sentenced to stand in the pillory; to be
branded on the hand with the letters S. S. (slave-stealer); to
pay a fine and serve a term of imprisonment for each slave
assisted; to pay the costs of prosecution; and to stand committed
until his fines should be paid. His treatment in
prison was brutal, but he was not obliged to endure it long,
for, by the intervention of friends, his fines were paid, and
he was released in the summer of 1848. Subjected to indignities
and disgrace in the South, Captain Walker was the
recipient of many demonstrations of approval on his return
to the North. Whittier blazoned his stigmas into a prophecy

of deliverance for the slave. In a poem of welcome the distinguished
Quaker wrote:

These words were set to music by Mr. George W. Clark, and
sung by him with thrilling effect at many anti-slavery gatherings
throughout New England. Mr. Walker became at once
a conspicuous witness against the slave power in the great
trial that was then going forward at the bar of public opinion.
At Providence, Rhode Island, his return from the Florida
prison was heralded, and a large reception was given him,
attended by the Hon. Owen Lovejoy, brother of the martyr
Lovejoy, Milton Clark, the white slave, and Lewis, his brother.
It is said that three thousand people crowded the seats, aisles
and doorways of the reception hall. In company with Mr.
George W. Clark, Captain Walker was drafted into the work
of arousing the masses, and the two agitators received a cordial
hearing at many New England meetings. Doubtless the
recital of the Captain's experiences intensified anti-slavery
feeling throughout the Northern states.[48]

About 1847, Mrs. Laura S. Haviland accepted a mission to
find the family of one John White, a slave, who had escaped
from the South and was serving as a farm-hand in the neighborhood
of Mrs. Haviland's school in southeastern Michigan.
Mrs. Haviland went to Cincinnati where she consulted with
the Vigilance Committee, and thence to Rising Sun, Indiana,
to secure the services of several of John White's colored
friends. Here a plan was formed for Mrs. Haviland to go
into Kentucky to the plantation where the family lived, and,
disguised as a berry picker, see the wife, inform her of her

husband's whereabouts, and offer to assist in her rescue. Accomplishing
this errand and returning across the border into
Indiana, Mrs. Haviland awaited the slave-woman's appearance;
but her escape had been prevented by the vigilance
evoked on account of the operations of counterfeiters in
Kentucky. Then John White started South intent on
saving his wife and children from slavery, but his efforts
also were unsuccessful, and he was thrown into a Kentucky
jail. However, he was soon released by Laura Haviland,
who purchased him for three hundred and fifty dollars.[49]

In the summer of 1847, Captain Daniel Drayton sailed to
Washington with a cargo of oysters, and while his boat was
lying at the wharf he was cautiously approached by a negro,
who wanted to get passage North for a woman and five children.
The negro said the woman was a slave but that she
had, under an agreement with her master, more than paid
for her liberty, and when she asked for her "free papers"
the master only answered by threatening to sell her South.[50]
Captain Drayton allowed the woman and her children and a
niece to stow themselves on board his vessel, and he soon
landed them at Frenchtown, to the great joy of the woman's
husband, who was awaiting them there.

It was by the suggestion of these fugitives that Captain Drayton
undertook his important expedition with the schooner Pearl
in 1848. On the evening of April 18 his boat was made fast
at one of the Washington docks ready to receive a company
of fugitives. The time seemed auspicious. The establishment
of the new French Republic was being celebrated in
the city by a grand torchlight procession, and slaves were
left for the most part to their own devices. Thus favored, a
large number escaped to the small craft of Captain Drayton
and were carefully stowed away. The start was made without
incident, and the vessel continued quietly on her course
to the mouth of the Potomac; there, contrary winds were
encountered, and the Pearl was brought to shelter in Cornfield
Harbor, one hundred and forty miles from Washington.
The disappearance of seventy-six slaves at one time caused

great excitement at the Capitol. The method of their departure
was revealed by a colored hackman, who had driven two
of the fugitives to the wharf. An armed steamer was sent
in pursuit, and the Pearl was obliged to surrender. Her
arrival under guard at Washington was the occasion for rejoicing
to an infuriated mob of several thousand persons.
The slaves were committed to jail as runaways; their helpers
were with difficulty protected from murderous violence, and
were escorted to the city prison. Under instructions from
the district attorney twenty-four indictments were found
against both Captain Drayton and his mate, Mr. Sayres.
When the trial began in July, the list of indictments presented
comprised forty-one counts against each of these prisoners.
Three persons were prosecuted; and the aggregate
amount of their bail was two hundred and twenty-eight thousand
dollars. After two trials the accused were heavily sentenced,
and remanded to jail until their fines should be paid.
The sentence passed upon Captain Drayton required the payment
of fines and costs together amounting to ten thousand
and sixty dollars, and until paid the prisoner must remain in
jail indefinitely.[51] His accomplices were treated with equal
severity. Such penalties were accounted monstrous by the
friends of the convicted, and efforts were constantly made to
have the sentences mitigated or revoked. In 1852 Senator
Sumner interested himself in behalf of the imprisoned liberators;
and President Fillmore was induced to grant them an
unconditional pardon.

The occurrence of these events at the national capital during
a session of Congress, gave them a significance they would
not otherwise have had. That they would become the subject of
much fierce debate was assured by the presence in Congress
of such champions as Messrs. Giddings and Hale for the antislavery
party, and Messrs. Foote, Toombs, Calhoun and Davis
for the pro-slavery party. Mr. Calhoun expressed the view
of the South when, speaking upon a resolution brought before
the Senate by Mr. Hale, April 20, he recorded himself
as being in favor of an act making penal "these atrocities,
these piratical attempts, these wholesale captures, these robberies

of seventy odd of our slaves at a single grasp." In
this and in similar utterances made at the time, he foreshadowed
the determination of the South to have a law
that would restrain if possible from all temptations to aid
or abet the escape of slaves. The result of this determination
is seen in the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850.

This notable voyage of the Pearl, which caused so great an
excitement at the time, has been frequently chronicled, while
the experiences of the young Quaker, Richard Dillingham,
have been seldom recounted, though marked by the same elements
of daring and resignation. In December, 1848, the
close of the year of the Pearl's adventure, Mr. Dillingham
was solicited by some colored people in Cincinnati, Ohio, to
go to Tennessee and bring away their relatives, who were
slaves under a "hard master" at Nashville. He entered upon
the project, made his way into the very heart of the South and
arranged with the slaves for their escape. At the time appointed
his three protégés were placed in a closed carriage
and driven rapidly away, Mr. Dillingham following on horseback.
The party got as far as Cumberland bridge, where
they were betrayed by a colored man in whom confidence had
been placed, and the fugitives and their benefactor were arrested.
Mr. Dillingham was committed to jail, and his bail
was fixed at seven thousand dollars. At his trial, which
occurred April 12, 1849, Dillingham confessed, and asked
for clemency, urging by way of explanation the dependence
of his aged parents upon him as a stay and protection. As
to the crime for which he was held he said frankly: "I
have violated your laws. . . . But I was prompted to it by
feelings of humanity. It has been suspected . . . that I
was leagued with a fraternity who are combined for the purpose
of committing such offences as the one with which I am
charged. But . . . the impression is false, I alone am guilty,
I alone committed the offence, and I alone must suffer the
penalty. . . . "Yielding to his plea for clemency the jury
returned a verdict for three years in the penitentiary, the
mildest sentence allowed by the law for the offence. The
Nashville Daily Gazette of April 13 did not conceal the
fact that Mr. Dillingham belonged to a respectable family,

and stated that he was not without the sympathy of those
who attended the trial.[52] The prisoner himself was most
grateful for the consideration shown him, and, in a letter to
his betrothed written two days after his trial, he spoke of his
short sentence with the deepest gratitude and thankfulness
toward the court and jury and the prosecutors themselves.
"My sentence," he added, "is far more lenient than my most
sanguine hopes have ever anticipated."[53] The termination
of the imprisonment of Dillingham was most melancholy.
Separated from his aged parents, to whom he was devoted,
and from the woman that was to have become his wife,
his health soon proved unequal to the severe experiences
of prison life; his keepers after nine months gave him
respite from heavy work about the prison, and assigned him
the place of steward in the hospital. He had not long been
in his new station when cholera broke out among the convicts,
and his services were in constant demand. His strength
was soon exhausted, and about the first of August, 1850,
he succumbed to the dread epidemic raging in the prison.[54]

It was the year in which young Dillingham came to his
melancholy end that Mr. William L. Chaplin was found
guilty of an offence similar to that for which Dillingham
suffered.[55] When Mr. Charles T. Torrey, editor of the Albany
Patriot, was sent to the Maryland penitentiary for aiding
slaves to escape, Mr. Chaplin assumed control of Mr. Torrey's
paper. Like his predecessor, Mr. Chaplin spent part of his
time in the city of Washington reporting congressional proceedings
for the Patriot, and like him could not be deaf to
an entreaty in behalf of slaves. In 1850 Mr. Chaplin was
prevailed upon to attempt the release from bondage of two

negroes, one the property of Robert Toombs, the other, of
Alexander H. Stephens. The sequel to this enterprise is
thus recounted by Mr. George W. Clark, an intimate friend
of General Chaplin's: "Suspicion was somehow awakened
and watch set; the General was intercepted, arrested and
imprisoned, and the attempt failed. The General gave bail,
Secretary Seward being on his bond for five thousand dollars.
While passing through Baltimore on his return home he was
rearrested and put into . . . prison there, on a charge of aiding
slaves to escape from that state. The bonds required were
twenty thousand dollars. . . . It was arranged that William
R. Smith, a noble and generous-hearted Quaker, and George
W. Clark should traverse the State and appeal to the friends
of humanity for contributions to save the General from the
fate we feared awaited him, for if his case went to trial he
would probably be sentenced to fifteen years in their State
Prison, which would no doubt amount to a death sentence.
William R. Smith and I went to work in live earnest. An
abolition merchant, Mr. Chittenden of New York, gave us
three thousand dollars, the always giving Gerrit Smith gave
us five thousand, other friends gave us two thousand, but
we still lacked ten thousand. . . . We were in great distress
and anxiety over the extreme situation when the generous
Gerrit Smith voluntarily came again to the rescue and advanced
the other ten thousand dollars." It was in this way,
through the most open-handed generosity of his friends, that
Mr. Chaplin was enabled to go free after being in jail only
five months. Prudence dictated the sacrificing of the excessive
bail rather than the braving of fortune through a trial
certain to end in conviction.

We have thus far considered the recorded efforts toward
the abduction of slaves made by six persons in response to the
entreaty of the slaves concerned or of some of their friends.
It is noteworthy that in the case of five of these persons their
efforts, first or last, were calamitous, and that all were white
persons. We come now to the case of Josiah Henson, exceptional
in the series, by reason of the uniform success of his
endeavors, and because of his race connections. Born and
bred a slave, Henson at length resolved to extricate himself

and family from the abjectness of their situation. "With
a degree of prudence, courage and address," says Mrs. Harriet
Beecher Stowe, "which can scarcely find a parallel in any
history, he managed with his wife and two children to escape
to Canada. Here he learned to read, and, by his superior
talent and capacity for management, laid the foundation for
the fugitive settlement of Dawn. . . . "[56] The possession of
the qualities indicated in this characterization of Mr. Henson
rendered him equal to such emergencies as arose in his
missions to the South in search of friends and relatives of
Canadian refugees.

Mr. Henson has left us the record of two journeys to the
Southern states, made at the instance of James Lightfoot,
a refugee of Fort Erie, Ontario.[57] Lightfoot had a number
of relatives in slavery near Maysville, Kentucky, and was
ready to use the little property he had accumulated during
the short period of his freedom in securing the liberation of
his family. Beginning the journey alone, Mr. Henson travelled
on foot about four hundred miles through New York, Pennsylvania
and Ohio, to his destination. The fact that the
Lightfoots decided it to be unsafe to make their escape at this
time did not prevent their visitor from agreeing to come a
year later for them, nor did it prevent him from returning to
Canada with companions. He went nearly fifty miles into the
interior of Kentucky, where, as he learned, there was a large
party eager to set out for a land of freedom, but waiting until
an experienced leader should appear. In Bourbon County he
found about thirty fugitives collected from different states,
and with these he started northward. Mr. Henson gives his
itinerary in the following words: "We succeeded in crossing
the Ohio River in safety, and arrived in Cincinnati the third
night after our departure. Here we procured assistance; and,
after stopping a short time to rest, we started for Richmond,
Indiana. This is a town which had been settled by Quakers,
and there we found friends indeed, who at once helped us on
our way, without loss of time; and after a difficult journey

of two weeks through the wilderness, reached Toledo, Ohio,
. . . and there we took passage for Canada."[58] In the autumn
of the year following this abduction Mr. Henson again visited
Kentucky. This time several of the Lightfoots were willing
to go North with him, and a Saturday night after dark was
chosen as the time for setting out. In spite of some untoward
happenings during the early part of the journey, and of pursuit
even to Lake Erie, the daring guide and his party of four
or five were put aboard a sailing-vessel and safely landed on
Canadian soil. "Words cannot describe," writes Mr. Henson,
" the feelings experienced by my companions as they neared
the shore; their bosoms were swelling with inexpressible joy
as they mounted the seats of the boat, ready eagerly to spring
forward, that they might touch the soil of the freeman. And
when they reached the shore they danced and wept for joy,
and kissed the earth on which they first stepped, no longer
the Slave, but the Free. "Mr. Henson asserts, that "by
similar means to those above narrated," he was "instrumental
in delivering one hundred and eighteen human beings" from
bondage.[59]

Important and interesting among the abductors are the few
individuals that we must call, for want of a better designation,
the devotees of abduction. We have already considered a
person of this type in the odd character, John Fairfield, the
Virginian. There are several other persons known to have
been not less zealous than he in their violation of what were
held in the South to be legitimate property rights. The
names of these adventurous liberators are Rial Cheadle, Alexander
M. Ross, Elijah Anderson, John Mason and Harriet
Tubman.

Rial Cheadle appears to have been a familiar figure among
the abolitionists of southeastern Ohio. Mr. Thomas L. Gray,
a reputable citizen of Deavertown, Ohio, for many years engaged
in underground operations in Morgan County, vouches
for the extended and aggressive work of Cheadle, who frequently
stopped at Mr. Gray's house for rest and refreshment

on his midnight trips to Zanesville and stations farther on.[60]
Cheadle seems to have been a man of eccentricities, if not of
actual aberration of mind; or his oddities may have been assumed
to prevent himself being taken seriously by those he
wanted to despoil. He is said to have lived in Windsor
Township, Morgan County, Ohio, on the site of the present
village of Stockport, and to have engaged in teaching and
other occupations for a time; finally, however, he devoted himself
to the work of the Underground Road. He indulged himself
in old-time minstrelsy, composing songs, which he sang for
the entertainment of himself and others, and he thereby increased,
doubtless, the reputation for harmless imbecility, which
he seems to have borne among those ignorant of his purpose.
He paid occasional visits to Virginia. "As a result it is
said the slaves were frequently missing, but as his arrangements
were carefully made the object of his visit was usually
successful. . . . His habits were so well known to those who
gave food and shelter to the negro that they were seldom unprepared
for a nocturnal visit from him. . . . After the
Emancipation, he said he was like Simeon of old, 'ready to
depart.' He died in 1867."[61]

A man differing greatly from Rial Cheadle in all respects,
save the intensity of his compassion for the slave, was the
abductor Alexander M. Ross. Born in 1832 in the Province
of Ontario, Canada, Mr. Ross sought, when a young
man, to inform himself upon the question of American
slavery, not only from the teachings of some of the foremost
anti-slavery leaders of England and the United States,
but also from the recital of their experiences by a number of
fugitive slaves that had found an asylum in the province of
his birth. While he was engaged in making inquiries among
the refugees, Uncle Tom's Cabin was published, and brought
conviction to many minds. "To me," writes Mr. Ross, "it
was a command. A deep and settled conviction impressed

me that it was my duty to help the oppressed to freedom.
. . . My resolution was taken to devote all my energies
to let the oppressed go free."[62] In accordance with
this resolution young Ross left Canada in November, 1856.
He visited Gerrit Smith, at Peterboro, New York, who was
ever ready to encourage the liberation of the slave, and who
went with him to Boston, New York and Philadelphia, and
westward into the states of Ohio and Indiana. The purpose
of these travels was, evidently, to acquaint the intending
liberator with the means to be employed by him in his new
work, and with the persons in connection with whom he was
to operate. Indeed, Mr. Ross distinctly says, in speaking of
these visits, "I was initiated into a knowledge of the relief
societies, and the methods adopted to circulate information
among the slaves of the South; the routes to be taken by
the slaves, after reaching the so-called free states; and the
relief posts, where shelter and aid for transportation could be
obtained."[63] His chief supporters, besides Gerrit Smith, were
Theodore Parker and Lewis Tappan.[64]

During his expeditions Mr. Ross spread the knowledge of
Canada among the slaves in the neighborhood of a number of
Southern cities, such as Richmond, Virginia, Nashville, Tennessee,
Columbus and Vicksburg, Mississippi, Selma and
Huntsville, Alabama, Augusta, Georgia, and Charleston,
South Carolina. His method of procedure was fixed in its
details only after his arrival upon the scene of action; an
ostensible interest or purpose was kept to the fore, and the
real business of spreading the gospel of escape was reserved
for clandestine conferences with slaves chosen on the score of
intelligence and trustworthiness. These persons were informed
how Canada could be best reached, and were told to
spread with care the information among their fellows. If
any decided within a few days that they would act upon the
advice given them, explicit instructions were repeated to

DR. ALEXANDER M. ROSS,
AN ABDUCTOR OF SLAVES.

(His distinguished services as a naturalist are attested by his
medals, bestowed by European princes.)

HARRIET TUBMAN,
"THE MOSES OF HER PEOPLE."

Herself a fugitive, she abducted more than 300 slaves, and also served
as a scout and nurse for the Union forces.

them, and they were supplied with compasses, knives, pistols,
money and such provisions as they needed. Thus equipped,
they were started on their long and dangerous journey. Occasionally,
when circumstances seemed to require it, Mr. Ross
would personally guide the party to a station of the Underground
Road, or even accompany it to Canada; otherwise he
betook himself in haste to some new field of labor. The unimpeachable
character of Mr. Ross, and the early appearance
of the first edition of his Recollections make his reminiscences
especially valuable and worth quoting. Mr. Ross began his
work at Richmond early in the year 1857. His narrative of
his first venture is as follows: "On my arrival in Richmond,
I went to the house of a gentleman to whom I had been
directed, and who was known at the North to be a friend of
freedom. I spent a few weeks in quietly determining upon
the best plans to adopt. Having finally decided upon my
course, I invited a number of the most intelligent, active and
reliable slaves to meet me at the house of a colored preacher,
on a Sunday evening. On the night appointed for this meeting,
forty-two slaves came to hear what prospect there was
for an escape from bondage. . . . I explained to them my
. . . purpose in visiting the slave states, the various routes
from Virginia to Ohio and Pennsylvania, and the names of
friends in border towns who would help them on to Canada.
I requested them to circulate this information discreetly
among all upon whom they could rely. . . . I requested as
many as were ready to accept my offer, to come to the same
house on the following Sunday evening, prepared to take
the ' Underground Railroad' to Canada.

"On the evening appointed nine stout, intelligent young
men declared their determination to gain their freedom, or
die in the attempt. To each I gave a few dollars in money,
a pocket compass, knife, pistol, and as much cold meat and
bread as each could carry with ease. I again explained to
them the route. . . . I never met more apt students than
these poor fellows. . . . They were to travel only by night,
resting in some secure spot during the day. Their route was
to be through Pennsylvania, to Erie on Lake Erie, and from
thence to Canada. . . . I learned, many months after, that

they all had arrived safely in Canada. (In 1863 I enlisted
three of these brave fellows in a colored regiment in Philadelphia,
for service in the war that gave freedom to their
race.)"[65]

Mr. Ross was a naturalist, and his tastes in this direction
furnished him many good pretexts for excursions. A journey
into the far South was made in the guise of an ornithologist.
Describing his trip to the cotton states Mr. Ross
says: "Finally my preparations were completed, and, supplied
with a shot-gun and materials for preserving bird-skins,
I began my journey into the interior of the country. . . .
Soon after my arrival at Vicksburg I was busily engaged in
collecting ornithological specimens. I made frequent visits
to the surrounding plantations, seizing every favorable opportunity
to converse with the more intelligent slaves.
Many of these negroes had heard of Canada from the negroes
brought from Virginia and the border slave states;
but the impression they had was, that Canada being so far
away, it would be useless to try and reach it. On these excursions
I was usually accompanied by one or two smart,
intelligent slaves, to whom I felt I could trust the secret of
my visit. In this way I succeeded in circulating a knowledge
of Canada, and the best means of reaching that country,
to all the plantations for many miles around Vicksburg.
. . . I continued my labors in the vicinity of Vicksburg
for several weeks and then went to Selma, Alabama."[66]

In the ways described in these selections Mr. Ross induced
companies of slaves to exchange bondage for freedom. How
many he thus liberated we have, of course, no means of
knowing. The risks he ran were such as to put his life in
danger almost constantly. Betrayal would have ended,
probably, in a lynching; and the disappearance simultaneously
of a band of fugitives and the unknown naturalist was
a coincidence not only sure to be noticed, but also widely
published, thus increasing the dangers many fold. It is unnecessary
to recount the occasions upon which the scientist
found himself in danger of falling a victim to his zeal in

befriending slaves. Suffice it to say, his adventures all had
a fortunate termination. Mr. Ross is best known by his
numerous works relating to the flora and fauna of Canada,
for which he received recognition among learned men, and
decoration at the hands of European princes."[67]

Elijah Anderson, a negro, has been described by Mr. Rush
R. Sloane, an underground veteran of northwestern Ohio, as
the "general superintendent" of the underground system in
this section of Ohio. Mr. Anderson's work began before the
enactment of the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850, and continued
until the time of his incarceration in the state prison at
Frankfort, Kentucky, where he died in 1857. During this
period his activity must have been unceasing, for he is
quoted as having said in 1855 that he had conducted in all
more than a thousand fugitives from slavery to freedom,
having brought eight hundred away after the passage of the
act of 1850. Not all of these persons were piloted to Sandusky,
although that city was the point to which Anderson
usually conveyed his passengers. After the opening of the
Cleveland and Cincinnati Railroad he took many to Cleveland.[68]

The last two of the devotees of abduction to be considered
in this chapter are persons that were themselves fugitive
slaves, John Mason and Harriet Tubman.

Our only source of information about John Mason is an
account printed in 1860, by the Rev. W. M. Mitchell, a colored
missionary sent to minister to the refugees of Toronto
by the American Baptist Free Mission Society.[69] This may be

accepted as a credible source. The author has printed in the
little book in which the account appears testimonials that
serve to identify him, but better than these are the references
found in the body of the book to underground matters pertaining
to southern Ohio that have been made familiar
through other channels of information. The statements of
Mr. Mitchell, thus supported, lend the color of probability to
other statements of his not corroborated by any information
now to be obtained, especially since these are in keeping with
known manifestations of liberating zeal. We may therefore
use the narrative relating to John Mason with a certain degree
of assurance as to its accuracy.

While engaged in Underground Railroad operations in Ohio
Mr. Mitchell became acquainted with John Mason, a fugitive
slave from Kentucky. He had obtained his liberty but was
not content to see his fellows go without theirs, and "was
willing," wrote Mr. Mitchell, "to risk the forfeiture of his
own freedom, that he might, peradventure, secure the liberty
of some. He commenced the perilous business of going into
the State from whence he had escaped and especially into his
old neighborhood, decoying off his brethren to Canada. . . .
This slave brought to my house in nineteen months 265 human
beings whom he had been instrumental in redeeming
from slavery; all of whom I had the privilege of forwarding
to Canada by the Underground Railroad. . . . He kept no
record as to the number he had assisted in this way. I have
only been able, from conversations with him on the subject,
to ascertain about 1,300, whom he delivered to abolitionists
to be forwarded to Canada. Poor man! he was finally captured
and sold. He had been towards the interior of Kentucky,
about fifty miles; it was while returning with four
slaves that he was captured. . . . Daylight came on them,
they concealed themselves under stacks of corn, which served
them for food, as well as protection from the weather and
passers-by. . . . Late in the afternoon of that day, in the
distance was heard the baying of negro-hounds on their track;
escape was impossible. . . . When the four slaves saw their
masters they said, 'J. M., we can't fight.' He endeavored to
rally their courage . . . but to no purpose. . . . Their leader

resisted, but both his arms were broken, and his body otherwise
abused. . . . Though he had changed his name, as most
slaves do on running away, he told his master's name and to
him he was delivered. He was eventually sold and was
taken to New Orleans. . . . Yet in one year, five months,
and twenty days, I received a letter from this man, John
Mason, from Hamilton, Canada West. Let a man walk abroad
on Freedom's Sunny Plains, and having once drunk of its
celestial 'stream whereof maketh glad the city of our God,'
afterward reduce this man to slavery, it is next to an impossibility
to retain him in slavery."[70]

Harriet Tubman, like John Mason, did not reckon the
value of her own liberty in comparison with the liberty of
others who had not tasted its sweets. Like him, she saw in
the oppression of her race the sufferings of the enslaved
Israelites, and was not slow to demand that the Pharaoh of
the South should let her people go. She was known to many
of the anti-slavery leaders of her generation; her personality
and her power were such that none of them ever forgot the
high virtues of this simple black woman. Governor William
H. Seward, of New York, wrote of her: "I have known Harriet
long, and a nobler, higher spirit or a truer, seldom dwells
in human form."[71] Gerrit Smith declared: "I am convinced
that she is not only truthful, but that she has a rare discernment,
and a deep and sublime philanthropy."[72] John Brown
introduced her to Wendell Phillips in Boston, saying, "I bring
you one of the best and bravest persons on this continent—
General Tubman as we call her."[73] Frederick Douglass testified:
"Excepting John Brown, of sacred memory, I know of
no one who has willingly encountered more perils and hardships
to serve our enslaved people than you have. Much that

you have done would seem improbable to those who do not
know you as I know you. . . ."[74] Mr. F. B. Sanborn said:
"She has often been in Concord, where she resided at the
houses of Emerson, Alcott, the Whitneys, the Brooks family,
Mrs. Horace Mann, and other well-known persons. They all
admired and respected her, and nobody doubted the reality of
her adventures. . . ."[75] The Rev. S. J. May knew Harriet personally,
and speaks with admiration, not only of the work she
did in emancipating numbers of her own people, but also of
the important services she rendered the nation during the
Civil War both as a nurse and as "the leader of soldiers in
scouting-parties and raids. She seemed to know no fear and
scarcely ever fatigue. They called her their Moses."[76]

The name, Moses, was that by which this woman was
commonly known. She earned it by the qualities of leadership
displayed in conducting bands of slaves through devious
ways and manifold perils out of their "land of Egypt." She
first learned what liberty was for herself about the year
1849. She made her way from Maryland, her home as a
slave, to Philadelphia, and there by industry gathered together
a sum of money with which to begin her humane and
self-imposed labors. In December, 1850, she went to Baltimore
and abducted her sister and two children. A few
months later she brought away another company of three persons,
one of whom was her brother. From this time on till
the outbreak of the War of the Rebellion her excursions were
frequent. She is said to have accomplished nineteen such
trips, and emancipated over three hundred slaves.[77] As may be
surmised, she had encouragement in her undertakings;
but her main dependence was upon her own efforts. All
her wages were laid aside for the purpose of emancipating
her people. Whenever she had secured a sufficient sum,
she would disappear from her Northern home, work her
passage South, and meet the band of expectant slaves, whom,
she had forewarned of her coming in some mysterious way.

Her sagacity was one of her most marked traits; it was
displayed constantly in her management of her little caravans.
Thus she would take the precaution to start with her
pilgrims on Saturday night so that they could be well along
on their journey before they were advertised. Posters giving
descriptions of the runaways and offering a considerable
reward for their arrest were a common means of making
public the loss of slave property. Harriet often paid a
negro to follow the man who posted the descriptions of her
companions and tear them down. When there were babies
in the party she sometimes drugged them with paregoric and
had them carried in baskets. She knew where friends could
be found that would give shelter to her weary freedmen. If
at any stage of the journey she were compelled to leave her
companions and forage for supplies she would disclose herself
on her return through the strains of a favorite song:—

Sometimes when hard pressed by pursuers she would take
a train southward with her companions; she knew that no
one would suspect fugitives travelling in that direction.
Harriet was a well-known visitor at the offices of the antislavery
societies in Philadelphia and New York, and at first
she seems to have been content if her protégés arrived safely
among friends in either of these cities; but after she comprehended
the Fugitive Slave Law she preferred to accompany
them all the way to Canada. "I wouldn't," she said,
"trust Uncle Sam wid my people no longer."[78] She knew
the need of discipline in effecting her rough, overland
marches, and she therefore required strict obedience of her
followers. The discouragement of an individual could not
be permitted to endanger the liberty and safety of the whole
party; accordingly she sometimes strengthened the fainting
heart by threatening to use her revolver, and declaring,
"Dead niggers tell no tales, you go on or die." She was

not less lenient with herself. The safety of her companions
was her chief concern; she would not allow her labors to be
lightened by any course likely to increase the chances of
their discovery. On one occasion, while leading a company,
she experienced a feeling that danger was near; unhesitatingly
she decided to ford a river near by, because she must
do so to be safe. Her followers were afraid to cross, but
Harriet, despite the severity of the weather (the month was
March), and her ignorance of the depth of the stream,
walked resolutely into the water and led the way to the opposite
shore. It was found that officers were lying in wait
for the party on the route first intended.

Like many of her race Harriet was a thorough-going
mystic. The Quaker, Thomas Garrett, said of her: ". . .
I never met with any person, of any color, who had more
confidence in the voice of God, as spoken to her soul. She
has frequently told me that she talked with God, and he
talked with her, every day of her life, and she has declared to
me that she felt no more fear of being arrested by her former
master, or any other person, when in his immediate neighborhood,
than she did in the State of New York, or Canada, for
she said she never ventured only where God sent her. Her
faith in the Supreme Power truly was great."[79] This faith
never deserted her in her times of peril. She explained her
many deliverances as Harriet Beecher Stowe accounted for
the power and effect of Uncle Tom's Cabin. She insisted it
was all God's doing. "Jes so long as he wanted to use me,"
said Mrs. Tubman, "he would take keer of me, an' when he
didn't want me no longer, I was ready to go. I always tole
him, I'm gwine to hole stiddy on to you, an' you've got to
see me trou."[80]

In 1857, Mrs. Tubman made what has been called her
most venturesome journey. She had brought several of her
brothers and sisters from slavery, but had not hit upon a
method to release her aged parents. The chief difficulty lay
in the fact that they were unable to walk long distances. At
length she devised a plan and carried it through. A homemade

conveyance was patched together, and an old horse
brought into use. Mr. Garrett describes the vehicle as consisting
of a pair of old chaise-wheels, with a board on the
axle to sit on and another board swinging by ropes from the
axle on which to rest their feet. This rude contrivance
Harriet used in conveying her parents to the railroad, where
they were put aboard the cars for Wilmington; and she followed
them in her novel vehicle. At Wilmington, Friend
Garrett was sought out by the bold abductor, and he furnished
her with money to take all of them to Canada. He afterwards
sold their horse and sent them the money. Harriet
and her family did not long remain in Canada; Auburn,
New York, was deemed a preferable place; and here a small
property was bought on easy terms of Governor Seward, to
provide a home for the enfranchised mother and father.

Before Harriet had finished paying for her bit of real estate,
the Civil War broke out. Governor Andrew of Massachusetts,
appreciating the sagacity, bravery and kindliness of
the woman, soon summoned her to go into the South to serve
as a scout, and when necessary as a hospital nurse. That her
services were valuable was the testimony of officers under
whom she served; thus General Rufus Saxton wrote in
March, 1868: "I can bear witness to the value of her services
in South Carolina and Florida. She was employed in the
hospitals and as a spy. She made many a raid inside the
enemies' lines, displaying remarkable courage, zeal and
fidelity."[81]

At the conclusion of the great struggle Harriet returned
to Auburn, where she has lived ever since. Her devotion to
her people has never ceased. Although she is very poor and
is subject to the infirmities of old age, infirmities increased in
her case by the effects of ill treatment received in slavery,
she has managed to transform her house into a hospital,
where she provides and cares for some of the helpless and
deserving of her own race.[82]