The Bondwoman's Narrative (28 page)

“The same.”

The figure rose, and through the thick gloom I discerned the form and lineaments of a man. The next moment I was joined by
Charlotte.

“Be not afraid” she whispered “it is only William.”

“And what is William doing here?” I inquired.

“Oh, Hannah: you must hear him tell his story, and all that he
has suffered; you will pity him then I know, you cannot help
it.[”]
and will be ready

“Very likely, and yet my pity would not be available to any useful purpose.”

We had entered the arbor and all three were seated.

“You must not talk so” said Charlotte. “We require your assistance, and more, your company. Hannah wouldn’t you like to be
free?”

“Oh I should, I should, but then—”

“What?”

“The dangers, the difficulties, the obstructions in the way.[”]

“Yet these will all vanish before resolution and perseverance” said William.

“There you are mistaken” I replied. “I have tried elopement once. I know what it is. I know what hunger, and thirst and exposure
of every kind means. I know what it is to fear the face of man, to seek hiding places in woods, and caverns, and God helping
me I never wish to endure the like again.[”]

“But we want you to go with us” said Charlotte.

“With you; are you going, too.”

“I am,” she replied courageously. “I am going with my dear husband, but Hannah I wanted a female friend to go with us, a good
stout-hearted woman, who can look danger in the face unblenched [undaunted], whose counsel could guide us in emergencies,
who would be true, and zealous, and faithful; my heart turned to you as the one.”

“And you are the one” continued William. [“]Virtually you are free. Your old Master is dead. He met just the fate he deserved.
As yet no other has claimed you, and no one has the right, even according to the laws of this accursed country, to prevent
your going wherever you will. I told Charlotte to ask this interview, and now we urge, we insist that you should go with us.
We have friends
only a few miles hence. Once with them we shall be safe and can defy our enemies.”

That I was greatly surprised, and altogether unprepared to answer such a proposal in the most proper manner no one can for
a moment doubt, but I did not hesitate to tell them that their scheme looked wild and unpromising, and that I feared the result
would be unfortunate.

Charlotte sighed.

“There; Hannah, now don’t dishearten my dear wife” he said, drawing her affectionately to his bosom. “Our minds are fixed;
they cannot be changed, because we have no alternative. We must either be seperated or runaway, and which, think you, that
an affectionate wife would choose? My master sold me to a southern trader, through sheer cruelty, I believe, and because he
said that I was proud of my marriage. I happened to overhear the bargain. I cared nothing for the exchange of masters, because
I had no fears of falling into the clutches of a worse one, but the idea of such premature seperation from Charlotte nearly
drove me wild. That night I came here and told her all, and she proposed that we should fly together to a land of freedom.
How my heart bounded at the blessed name.”

During this long speech I had time to collect my thoughts, and I answered plainly that however just, or right, or expedient
it might be in them to escape my accompanying their flight would be directly the reverse, that I could not lightly sacrifise
the good opinion of Mrs Henry and her family, who had been so very kind to me, nor seem to participate in a scheme, of which
the consummation must be an injury to them no less than a source of disquiet and anxiety. Duty, gratitude and honor forbid
it.

“And so to a strained sense of honor you willingly sacrifise a prospect of freedom” said William. “Well, you can hug the chain
if you please. With me it is liberty or death.”

“You refuse to go with us, then” said Charlotte.

“I must.”

“But you will not betray us. We have placed our secret in your hands.”

[“]And it shall be well kept, but don’t tell me anything more. Let me remain in utter ignorance of all the circumstances you
have connected with your flight,
the way that you are going
give me no clue to the time, the course, the means, or the way.”

“Why not?” said William.

“Because it will be better for all that I should know nothing.”

Thus our brief interview ended.

The next morning Charlotte was missing. She did not appear to assist Mrs Henry at her toilet. A child was sent to summon her,
who returned with the information that she could not be found. Her room was in the neatest order, her bed nicely made, and
the drawers of her bureau closely shut. Then there was a great opening and shutting of doors, a calling through the rooms,
and around the house. Mr Henry was the first to suggest that possibly she had gone off with her husband, and inquired whether
her clothes remained in their accustomed places. But her wardrobe when examined was found nearly empty; all the valuables
having been removed.

Mrs Henry wept. Charlotte had been to her as a daughter,
and even now it was not her own so much as the wan
and more, much more than her own loss she regretted the misery, want, and exposure, which the infatuated woman was bringing
on herself.

“And yet I cannot find it in my heart to blame her” remarked the amiable woman. “I ought to have foreseen all this, and yet
I did not. The language of Scripture is just as true to[-]day as it was six thousand years ago. ‘Thy desire shall be thy husband.’
For him Charlotte could abandon her home, and long-tried friends. Heavengrant,
that he prove worthy of the trust, and that
they may reach in safety the land of freedom.”

That day we were somewhat surprised by the appearance of William’s master, a Mr Cropp. He came attended by a party of Negroes,
several blood-hounds, and the before-mentioned trader. He was evidently a hard stern man in whose soul pity never found refuge.
The trader looked at me inquiringly. He had heard my story and asked if I was for sale. Mr Henry replied that he guessed not,
at which the fellow expressed his sorrow. Mr Cropp expressed very plainly and firmly the object of his visit. The servants,
he said, had reported that the house of Mr Henry was visited at night, as they supposed by a spirit, but being himself a matter-of-fact
man and having little faith in supernatural visitants he thought it much more probable that his runaway slave sought in this
manner to enjoy the society of Charlotte, and perhaps obtain assistance and provision from her. He further stated that William
had actually been seen only the evening previous on Mr Henry’s premises, and; finally ended by inquiring for Charlotte. Mrs
Henry’s countenance turned pale as death.

He repeated the question with something of sternness in his tone.

“In fact, Sir” said Mr Henry, coming forward. “We can tell you tell you [sic] nothing about Charlotte. She was here yesterday,
to[-]day she is not.”

“Then she went off last night, eh” said the trader.

“And they went together” answered Cropp. “This is better than I hoped, we can now put the dogs on the fresh track, and they
can hardly fail to run them down.”

The dogs were long, gaunt, and lean, inexpressibly fierce with a cannibal look that made me tremble.

Mr Henry inquired of Cropp if the dogs belonged to him.

“No such good news as that” he answered. “They belong to my brother-in-law fifty miles from here.”

“And you sent for them?”

“I did, thinking Bill’s recovery well worth the trouble and expense. He was well worth fifteen hundred of any man’s money,
to say nothing of the example. If one of these fellows gets off safe, another will soon follow, and then another untill all
the best hands have gone. But they hate mortally to be overtaken, and brought back, and with these hounds real Cuban, and
the best in the country I think we can catch them.”

“Do let them go” said Mrs Henry imploringly.

“Let ’em go, indeed” said Cropp, and he exchanged glances with the trader.

“Do you really sympathise with them so much, madam?[”] inquired the latter.

Mr Henry
caught the eyes of his wife before she had time to answer and shook his head significantly
feared the consequences of his wife’s imprudence.

“Let me reply for her” he said. “It is her nature to sympathise with everything weak and unprotected, and I believe most women
are alike in this respect.[”]

“Far from it” said Cropp. “Why my wife is dev’lish hard on the slaves, worse than I be. She actually killed two or three of
the best gals I ever had. Just worked them to death. I told her ’twasn’t right, and money out of pocket, too.”

“Very well, Cropp” said the trader. “Your wife is sharp no doubt, and keen for her own interests which is right, but in one
thing I don’t agree with you. I don’t believe there ever was a negro that would hurt himself at work. However I think we had
better be off.”

The two arose, went out on the piazza, and stood a few minutes conversing in a low tone. Then Mr Cropp came back, put his
head
in at the door, and asked if William had been to the Mr Henry would object to letting the dogs into Charlotte’s room.

“They are undoubtedly together” said Cropp “and if Tiger, there, can get the scent of both on a fresh track their chances
of escape a[i]n’t worth a farthing.”

Mrs Henry involuntarily raised her eyes to heaven; while her husband rose and himself led the way to the room they sought.

The dogs ran round and round snuffing and smelling at the carpet. At length Tiger uttered a fierce bay.

“He has found the scent” said Cropp. “Hunt: seek ’em find ’em Tiger, that’s a good dog.”

Thus encouraged the dog leaped furiously against the outer door. It was opened. He rushed out, tore down the garden alley,
and entered the bower baying madly. We had no desire to look after them, but an hour later I heard their wild voices ringing
through the forest.

That night the prayer of Mr Henry was characterised by unusual solemnity, and he especially asked the blessing and protection
of Heaven for such wanderers as had not where [sic] to lay their heads.

I am poor, and sorrowful.

D
AVID

Two days elapsed without our hearing any news of Charlotte, or her husband. During all this time Mrs Henry was in the greatest
state of alarm and anxiety, her appetite failed, sleep nearly fled her eyelids, and her feverish imagination conjured up many
pictures of direful misery. She thought of her beautiful favorite hunted like a wild beast from place to place, without food
or shelter; and strong only in her love, or even yet more fearful painted her torn by dogs, and expiring without a friend
to wipe the death-damps from her brow, or point her parting soul to the Cross of Calvary.

But on the third day Mr Henry
at her earnest so
in compliance with her earnest solicitation, rode over to Cropp’s farm to learn the result of the hunt. To our great delight
he returned with information that the fugitives had escaped. By some mysterious process they had baffled the dogs, outwitted
their pursuers, and were probably on the high road to freedom and happiness. The trader, however had gone forward thinking
to intercept them in crossing a river; while Cropp returned to his estate his temper soured by disappointment, and fully prepared
to wreak vengeance for his loss on the innocent and helpless.

It was now
June, the laboriest month
summer, and Nature wore her gayest robes, but my expected Master had not arrived. Indeed he had written another letter stating
that sickness in his family detained him, and commanding me to abide where I was for the present. Events are usually crowded,
and the same day we received this letter Mrs Wheeler came on her summer visit. Mrs Henry received her with gracious politeness,
and led her to the apartments appropriated for her use. It would be a difficult undertaking to describe all the costly and
elegant and beautiful things they contained. The dainty drawers, the exquisite little cases and boxes for jewelry and fancy
things. Then the tables set off with flowers and damask, the chairs in velvet and brocade, and the bed so white, and fresh
and sweet that it resembled an Alpine snow-drift. I remember thinking at the time what a blessed thing it must be, not only
to have friends, but to [be] able to treat them so luxuriously.

Mrs Wheeler complained of feeble health, and required the most incessant attendance. Her two waiting maids had ran [sic] off
to the North, and she had been thus far unable to suit herself with another. Now that Charlotte was absent Mrs Henry could
not supply her wants, unless I consented to perform the
service
service. This I readily engaged to do, wishing not only to oblige the lady, but to show my gratitude to Mrs Henry. The next
morning Mrs Wheeler sent for me to her room. She was languidly reclining in a large chamber chair deeply cushioned, loosely
enveloped in a light morning wrapper. She made an effort to smile as I advanced, and inquired in a particularly bland, soft,
insinuating voice if I could perform the duties of Lady’s maid.

“I can try, madam” I answered.

“But trying will not suit me, unless you succeed” she answered quickly. “Can you dress hair?”

“I have done something at it.”

“Did you do it well and as it should be done?”

“There was no fault found.”

“Well, that I may be enabled to judge of your skill in that fashionable art I wish you to dress my hair this morning.”

“But Madam.”

“What?”

“There are many styles of dressing hair.”

“Certainly, put mine in the most graceful style of morning costume you know.”

“Yes, Madam.” And I went to work with combs, brushes and pomatum [pomade].

“Be careful” she exclaimed. “My hair, I expect, is excessively tangled, as it hasn’t been combed for more than a week.”