University of Virginia Library

31. CHAPTER XXXI.
THE ESCAPE.

Clayton had not been an unsympathizing or inattentive
witness of these scenes.

It is true that he knew not the whole depth of the affair;
but Harry's letter and his own observations had led him,
without explanation, to feel that there was a perilous degree
of excitement in some of the actors in the scene before him,
which, unless some escape-valve were opened, might lead
to most fatal results.

The day after the funeral, he talked with Harry, wisely
and kindly, assuming nothing to himself on the ground
either of birth or position; showing to him the undersirableness
and hopelessness, under present circumstances, of
any attempt to right by force the wrongs under which his
class were suffering, and opening to him and his associates
a prospect of a safer way by flight to the Free States.

One can scarcely appreciate the moral resolution and
force of character which could make a person in Clayton's
position in society — himself sustaining, in the eye of the
law, the legal relation of a slaveholder — give advice of
this kind. No crime is visited with more unsparing rigor
by the régime of Southern society than the aiding or abetting
the escape of a slave. He who does it is tried as a
negro-stealer; and in some states death, in others a long
and disgraceful imprisonment in the penitentiary, is the
award.

For granting the slightest assistance and succor, in cases

like these, — for harboring the fugitive for even a night, —
for giving him the meanest shelter and food, — persons have
been stripped of their whole property, and turned out destitute
upon the world. Others, for no other crime, have
languished years in unhealthy dungeons, and coming out at
last with broken health and wasted energies; nor has the
most saintly patience and purity of character in the victim
been able to lessen or mitigate the penalty.

It was therefore only by the discerning power of a mind
sufficiently clear and strong to see its way through the
mists of educational association, that Clayton could feel
himself to be doing right in thus violating the laws and
customs of the social state under which he was born. But,
in addition to his belief in the inalienable right of every
man to liberty, he had at this time a firm conviction that
nothing but the removal of some of these minds from the
oppressions which were goading them could prevent a
development of bloody insurrection.

It is probable that nothing has awakened more bitterly
the animosity of the slaveholding community than the
existence in the Northern States of an indefinite yet very
energetic institution, known as the underground railroad; and
yet, would they but reflect wisely on the things that belong
to their peace, they would know that this has removed many
a danger from their dwellings. One has only to become
well acquainted with some of those fearless and energetic
men who have found their way to freedom by its means, to
feel certain that such minds and hearts would have proved,
in time, an incendiary magazine under the scorching reign
of slavery. But, by means of this, men of that class who
cannot be kept in slavery have found a road to liberty
which endangered the shedding of no blood but their own;
and the record of the strange and perilous means by which
these escapes have been accomplished sufficiently shows the
resolute nature of the men by whom they were undertaken.

It was soon agreed that a large party of fugitives should

in concert effect their escape: Harry, being so white as
easily to escape detection out of the immediate vicinity where
he was known, assumed the task of making arrangements,
for which he was amply supplied with money by Clayton.

It is well known that there are, during the greater part
of the year, lumberers engaged in the cutting and making
of shingles, who have extensive camps in the swamp, and
live there for months at a time. These camps are made by
laying foundations of logs on the spongy soil, thus forming
platforms on which rude cabins are erected. In the same
manner roads are constructed into distant parts of the
swamp, by means of which transportation is carried on.
There is also a canal cut through the middle of the swamp,
on which small sailing craft pass backwards and forwards
with shingles and produce.

In the employ of these lumberers are multitudes of slaves
hired from surrounding proprietors. They live here in a
situation of comparative freedom, being only obliged to
make a certain number of staves or shingles within a stipulated
time, and being furnished with very comfortable
provision. Living thus somewhat in the condition of freemen,
they are said to be more intelligent, energetic, and
self-respecting, than the generality of slaves. The camp of
the fugitives had not been without intercourse with the camp
of lumberers, some five miles distant. In cases of straits they
had received secret supplies from them, and one or two of
the more daring and intelligent of the slave lumberers had
attended some of Dred's midnight meetings. It was determined,
therefore, to negotiate with one of the slaves who
commanded a lighter, or small vessel, in which lumber was
conveyed to Norfolk, to assist their escape.

On some consultation, however, it was found that the
numbers wanting to escape were so large as not to be able,
without exciting suspicion, to travel together, and it was
therefore decided to make two detachments. Milly had
determined to cast in her lot with the fugitives, out of regard
to her grandchild, poor little Tomtit, whose utter and merry

thoughtlessness formed a touching contrast to the gravity
and earnestness of her affections and desires for him. He
was to her the only remaining memorial of a large family,
which had been torn from her by the ordinary reverses and
chances of slavery; and she clung to him, therefore, with
the undivided energy of her great heart. As far as her own
rights were concerned, she would have made a willing surrender
of them, remaining patiently in the condition
wherein she was called, and bearing injustice and oppression
as a means of spiritual improvement, and seeking to do
what good lay in her power.

Every individual has an undoubted right, if he chooses,
thus to resign the rights and privileges of his earthly
birthright; but the question is a very different one when it
involves the improvement and the immortal interests of
those for whom the ties of blood oblige him to have care.

Milly, who viewed everything with the eye of a Christian,
was far less impressed by the rigor and severity of Tom
Gordon's administration than by the dreadful demoralization
of character which he brought upon the plantation.

Tomtit being a bright, handsome child, his master had
taken a particular fancy to him. He would have him
always about his person, and treated him with the same
mixture of indulgence and caprice which one would bestow
upon a spaniel. He took particular pleasure in teaching
him to drink and to swear, apparently for nothing else than
the idle amusement it afforded him to witness the exhibition
of such accomplishments in so young a child.

In vain Milly, who dared use more freedom with him
than any other servant, expostulated. He laughed or
swore at her, according to the state in which he happened
to be. Milly, therefore, determined at once to join the
flying party, and take her darling with her. Perhaps she
would not have been able to accomplish this, had not
what she considered a rather fortunate reverse, about this
time, brought Tomtit into disgrace with his master.
Owing to some piece of careless mischief which he had

committed, he had been beaten with a severity as thoughtless
as the indulgence he at other times received, and, while
bruised and trembling from this infliction, he was fully ready
to fly anywhere.

Quite unexpectedly to all parties, it was discovered that
Tom Gordon's confidential servant and valet, Jim, was one
of the most forward to escape. This man from that
peculiar mixture of boldness, adroitness, cunning, and drollery,
which often exists among negroes, had stood for years
as prime and undisputed favorite with his master; he had
never wanted for money, or for anything that money could
purchase; and he had had an almost unreproved liberty of
saying, in an odd fashion, what he pleased, with the
licensed audacity of a court buffoon.

One of the slaves expressed astonishment that he, in
his favored position, should think of such a thing. Jim
gave a knowing inclination of his head to one side, and
said:

“Fac' is, bredren, dis chile is jest tired of dese yer
partnership concerns. I and mas'r, we has all tings in
common, sure 'nough; but den I 'd rather have less of 'em,
and have something dat 's mine; 'sides which, I never 's
going to have a wife till I can get one dat 'll belong to
myself; dat ar 's a ting I 's 'ticular 'bout.”

The conspirators were wont to hold their meetings
nightly in the woods, near the swamp, for purposes of concert
and arrangement.

Jim had been trusted so much to come and go at his own
pleasure, that he felt little fear of detection, always having
some plausible excuse on hand, if inquiries were made.

It is to be confessed that he had been a very profane and
irreverent fellow, often attending prayer-meetings, and other
religious exercises of the negroes, for no other apparent
purpose than to be able to give burlesque imitations of all
the proceedings, for the amusement of his master and his
master's vile associates. Whenever, therefore, he was

missed, he would, upon inquiry, assert, with a knowing
wink, that “he had been out to de prayer-meetin'.”

“Seems to me, Jim,” says Tom, one morning, when he felt
peculiarly ill-natured, “seems to me you are doing nothing
but go to meeting, lately. I don't like it, and I 'm not going
to have it. Some deviltry or other you are up to, and I 'm
going to put a stop to it. Now, mind yourself; don't you
go any more, or I 'll give you —”

We shall not mention particularly what Tom was in the
habit of threatening to give.

Here was a dilemma. One attendance more in the woods
this very night was necessary, — was, indeed, indispensable.
Jim put all his powers of pleasing into requisition.
Never had he made such desperate efforts to be entertaining.
He sang, he danced, he mimicked sermons, carried on
mock meetings, and seemed to whip all things sacred and
profane together, in one great syllabub of uproarious merriment;
and this to an idle man, with a whole day upon his
hands, and an urgent necessity for never having time to
think, was no small affair.

Tom mentally reflected in the evening, as he lay
stretched out in the veranda, smoking his cigar, what
in the world he should do without Jim, to keep him in
spirits; and Jim, under cover of the day's glory, had
ventured to request of his master the liberty of an hour,
which he employed in going to his tryst in the woods.
This was a bold step, considering how positively he had
been forbidden to do it in the morning; but Jim heartily
prayed to his own wits, the only god he had been taught to
worship, to help him out once more. He was returning
home, hastening, in order to be in season for his master's
bed-time, hoping to escape unquestioned as to where he
had been.

The appointments had all been made, and, between two
and three o'clock that night, the whole party were to
strike out upon their course, and ere morning to have
travelled the first stage of their pilgrimage towards freedom.

Already the sense of a new nature was beginning to
dawn on Jim's mind — a sense of something graver,
steadier, and more manly, than the wild, frolicksome life he
had been leading; and his bosom throbbed with a strange,
new, unknown hope.

Suddenly, on the very boundary of the spot where the
wood joins the plantation, who should he meet but Tom
Gordon, sent there as if he had been warned by his evil
stars.

“Now, Lord help me! if dere is any Lord,” said Jim.
“Well, I 's got to blaze it out now de best way I ken.”

He walked directly up to his master, with his usual air
of saucy assurance.

“Why, Jim,” said Tom, “where have you been? I 've
been looking for you.”

“Why, bless you, mas'r, honey, I 's been out to de
meetin'.”

“Did n't I tell you, you dog,” said Tom, with an oath,
“that you were not to go to any more of those meetings?”

“Why, laws, mas'r, honey, chile, 'fore my heavenly
mas'r, I done forgot every word you said!” said Jim.
“I 's so kind o' tumbled up and down this day, and things
has been so cur'us!”

The ludicrous grimace and tone, and attitude of affected
contrition, with which all this was said, rather amused Tom;
and, though he still maintained an air of sternness, the subtle
negro saw at once his advantage, and added, “'Clare if I
is n't most dead! Ole Pomp, he preached, and he gets me
so full o' grace I 's fit to bust. Has to do something
wicked, else I 'll get translated one dese yer days, like
'Lijah, and den who 'd mas'r have fur to wait on him?”

“I don't believe you 've been to meeting,” said Tom,
eying him with affected suspicion. “You 've been out on
some spree.”

“Why, laws, mas'r, honey, you hurts my feelings!
Why, now, I 's in hopes you 'd say you see de grace
a shining out all over me. Why, I 's been in a clar state

of glorrufication all dis evening. Dat ar old Pomp, dar 's
no mistake, he does lift a body up powerful!”

“You don't remember a word he said, now, I 'll bet,”
said Tom. “Where was the text?”

“Text!” said Jim, with assurance; “'t was in the twenty-fourth
chapter of Jerusalem, sixteenth verse.”

“Well,” said Tom, “what was it? I should like to
know.”

“Laws, mas'r, I b'lieve I can 'peat it,” said Jim, with an
indescribable air of waggish satisfaction. “'T was dis yer:
`Ye shall sarch fur me in de mornin' and ye won't find me.'
Dat ar 's a mighty solemn text, mas'r, and ye ought to be
'flecting on 't.”

And Tom had occasion to reflect upon it, the next morning,
when, having stormed, and swore, and pulled until he
broke the bell-wire, no Jim appeared. It was some time
before he could actually realize or believe he was gone.

“The ungrateful dog! The impudent puppy, who had
had all his life everything he wanted, to run away from
him!”

Tom aroused the whole country in pursuit; and, as servants
were found missing in many other plantations, there
was a general excitement through the community. The
Trumpet of Liberty began to blow dolorous notes, and
articles headed, “The results of Abolitionist teaching, and
covert incendiarism,” began to appear. It was recommended
that a general search should be made through the
country for all persons tinctured with abolitionist sentiments,
and immediate measures pursued to oblige them to
leave the state forthwith.

One or two respectable gentlemen, who were in the habit
of taking the National Era, were visited by members of a
vigilance committee, and informed that they must immediately
drop the paper or leave the state; and when one of
them talked of his rights as a free citizen, and inquired
how they would enforce their requisitions, supposing he
determined to stand for his liberty, the party informed

him succinctly to the following purport: “If you do not
comply, your corn, grain, and fodder, will be burned; your
cattle driven off; and, if you still persist, your house will
be set on fire and consumed, and you will never know who
does it.”

When the good gentleman inquired if this was freedom,
his instructors informed him that freedom consisted in their
right and power to make their neighbors submit to their
own will and dictation; and he would find himself in a free
country so far as this, that every one would feel at liberty
to annoy and maltreat him so long as he opposed the popular
will.

This modern doctrine of liberty has of late been strikingly
and edifyingly enforced on the minds of some of our brethren
and sisters in the new states, to whom the offer of relinquishing
their principles or their property and lives has
been tendered with the same admirable explicitness.

It is scarcely necessary to remark that both these worthy
gentlemen, to use the language of their conquerors, “caved
in,” and thus escaped with no other disadvantage than a
general plundering of their smoke-houses, the hams in which
were thought a desirable addition to a triumphal entertainment
proposed to be given in honor of law and order by
The Associate Bands of the Glorious Immortal Coons, the
body-guard which was Tom Gordon's instrument in all these
exploits.

In fact, this association, although wanting the advantage
of an ordaining prayer and a distribution of Bibles, as has
been the case with some more recently sent from Southern
states, to beat the missionary drum of state rights and the
principles of law and order on our frontiers, yet conducted
themselves in a manner which might have won them approbation
even in Col. Buford's regiment, giving such exhibitions
of liberty as were sufficient to justify all despots for
putting it down by force for centuries to come.

Tom Gordon was the great organizer and leader of all
these operations; his suspicions had connected Clayton

with the disappearance of his slaves, and he followed upon
his track with the sagacity of a bloodhound.

The outrage which he had perpetrated upon him in the
forest, so far from being a matter of sham or concealment,
was paraded as a cause for open boast and triumph. Tom
rode about with his arm in a sling as a wounded hero, and
received touching testimonials and demonstrations from
sundry ladies of his acquaintance for his gallantry and
spirit. When on the present occasion he found the pursuit
of his slaves hopeless, his wrath and malice knew no
bounds, and he determined to stir up and enkindle against
Clayton to the utmost degree the animosities of the planters
around his estate of Magnolia Grove.

This it was not difficult to do. We have already shown
how much latent discontent and heart-burning had been
excited by the course which Clayton and his sister had
pursued on their estate.

Tom Gordon had a college acquaintance with the eldest
son of one of the neighboring families, a young man of as
reckless and dissipated habits as his own.

Hearing, therefore, that Clayton had retired to Magnolia
Grove, he accepted an invitation of this young man to make
him a visit, principally, as it would appear, for the purpose
of instigating some mischief.