The Bondwoman's Narrative (36 page)

Yet I feared haste or rashness. I wished to do right and determined to be guided by the Holy book of God. I had a little Bible,
one that Aunt Hetty had given me, a plain simple common book, with leather binding, and leaves brown with age. It was well
worn and thumbed, too, with neither margin, nor notes, nor quotations, but the precious word itself was their [there] and
that was enough.

I opened it as chance directed but immediately at the place where Jacob fled from his brother Esau. The sceptic may smile,
but to me it had a deep and peculiar meaning. “Yes” I mentally exclaimed. “Trusting in the God that guided and protected him
I will abandon this house, and the Mistress who would force me into a crime against nature.” As I have observed before nothing
but this would have impelled me to flight. Dear as freedom is to every human being, and bitter as servitude must be to all
who experience it I knew too much of the dangers and difficulties to be apprehended from running away ever to have attempted
such a thing through ordinary motives.

Shutting my precious Bible and placing it in my bosom I meditated a plan of escape. I had no friends in whom I could confide.
I was surrounded by watchful prying eyes. The blood-hounds would doubtless be set on my track. I confess the way looked dark,
the scheme almost hopeless, but I remembered the Hebrew Children
and Daniel in the Lion’s den, and felt that God could protect
and preserve me through all.

Determining, however, to feign submission at first I went the next morning and placed myself under the command of the overseer.
It was toilsome and weary work. My fingers unused to such employment blistered and bled, and towards night I grew faint with
the unwonted exertion. But there was no one to pity or assist me. Bill, indeed, who had sought the favor of becoming my husband
came towards me with a hedious grin, meant for a smile, and inquired what he could do for me. I hastily repulsed him with
“Nothing, nothing, only leave me. I shall be better directly.”

The overseer came up. He was a short thick-set big-headed man, with a countenance grossly sensual and repulsive. His little
eyes set far back in his head, gleamed beneath shaggy overhanging brows, like glow-worms beneath the jutting buttress of a
rock, his thick lips were always parted over teeth yellow and dirty with tobacco, and his person was extremely offensive and
indelicate from want of cleanliness.

“A[i]n’t much used to such as this” he said taking my bleeding fingers in his coarse hands. “But will be after awhile. I’ve
seen many a gal likely as you put into the fields to work, though she had never done a hand’s turn before. We must all come
to it sooner or later.”

Bill kept hanging around, and would occasionally stop working to look at me. The overseer observed this, and beckoned him
to approach. “You seem interested in Hannah” he remarked. “Now take her to your cabin, she has, I believe, finished her task.[”]
Bill’s eyes sparkled with delight, and I was too weak and weary, too dispirited and overcome to offer resistance.

Bill’s cabin was in the midst of the range of huts, tenanted by the workers in the fields. In front was a large pool of black
mud and corrupt water, around which myriads of flies and insects were
whirling and buzzing. I went in, but such sights and
smells as met me I cannot describe them. It was reeking with filth and impurity of every kind, and already occupied by near
a dozen women and children, who were sitting on the ground, or coiled on piles of rags and straw in the corner. They regarded
me curiously as I entered, grinned with malicious satisfaction that I had been brought down to their level, and made some
remarks at my expense; while the children kicked, and yelled, and clawed each other, scratching each other’s faces, and pulling
each other’s hair I stumbled to a bench I supposed designed for a seat, when one of the woman [sic] arose, seized me by the
hair, and without ceremony dragged me to the ground, gave me a furious kick and made use of highly improper and indecent language.
Bill, who had retired to the outside of the hut, hearing the noise of the fray came hastily in. It was his turn then. He commenced
beating her with a hearty good-will, and she scratched and bit him, furiously. In the rough and tumble they knocked over two
or three of the children, besides treading on the toes of some of the women, who irritated by the pain started up and joined
the contest which soon became general.

Frightened, and anxious to escape such a scene I whispered to one of the women that I was going to the house, and left the
hut unnoticed by the others. It was sometime after sunset, and I soon encountered the slaves coming in from the fields. I
told them all I was going to the house and passed on.

Before I reached the mansion, however, the lamps were lit for the night, and as I chiefly wished to avoid observation I concealed
myself in a thicket of roses. I had now matured my plan, and nothing remained but to put it in operation. To do this I must
get into the house, but time was precious very precious. A moment was a step, and every step would lead me further from danger
and detection. I could not wait till the family retired, and as the night was fortunately dark, and the front door ajar, having
been left so
by the carelessness of the servants, I contrived to slip in unperceived, and ascended with a noiseless tread
to the garret. Here was a suit of male apparel exactly corresponding to my size and figure. To whom it had belonged or who
had worn it was alike a mystery to me. Neither did I care; it would answer my purpose admirably, and that was sufficient.
I had previously and in anticipation of this event secreted a candle, some matches, scissors and other necessary utensils
in this same chamber. I found them all in their places, and they wonderfully facilitated my transformation of myself. This
done, I quenched the light, cautiously descended as I went up, let myself out by a back door, stood a moment to collect my
thoughts and then starting ran for my life.

The Wandering

Trials And Difficulties

The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests. I stopped not till overcome with fatigue and complete exhaustion.
I had traversed fields, leaped fences, and passed for some distance the boundaries of Mr Wheeler’s estate, when I was greatly
startled by the baying of a dog. There was nothing singular or portentous in the sound. It was just such a bark as you will
hear at all times of the night, and probably with unconcern, but mental anxiety and apprehension was one of the greatest miseries
of my fugitive condition. In every shadow I beheld, as in every voice I heard a pursuer. Sometimes I paused to listen, when
even the ordinary voices of the night filled me indefinite alarm. And then I rushed on heedless of obstacles and anxious only
to place as great a distance as possible between me and my enemies.

It was near morning when I sate [sat] down to rest, and cogitate my plans. I trusted that my escape would be unnoticed probably
for some time, as those in the house would naturally conclude that I was living at the huts, and those at the huts might be
deceived in the same manner with the expectation of my being at the house. But even I must be careful of my strength, as on
that depended
all my hopes of ever seeing a land of freedom. I had neither map, nor chart, nor compass, but I could be guided
at night by the North Star, and keep the sun to my back through the day. Then God would be with me, Christ would be with me,
good angels I hoped would ever be near me and with these comforting assurances I fell asleep.

When I awoke the morning was far advanced. The birds were singing sweetly, and everything wore an aspect of life and joy.
I felt refreshed, but hungry, and while debating with myself how to obtain a breakfast, a cow approached. Her udder was distended
with the precious fluid. I thought of Elijah and ravens, and when she came still nearer, and stopped before me with a gentle
low as if inviting me to partake. I hesitated no longer, but on her milk and a few simple berries I made a really luxurious
meal. I cannot describe my journey; the details would be dry, tedious, uninteresting. My course was due North but I made slow
progress. Occasionally I found
friends
friends, and this my disguise greatly facilitated. The people had no idea of my being a fugitive slave, and they were generally
kind and hospitable.

I told them I was an orphan who had been left in destitute circumstances, and that I was endeavoring to make my way on foot
to join the relatives of my mother who lived at the North. This account, so true and simple, greatly won the sympathies of
all especially the women. They would press gifts of food and clothing on me, or condole the cruel fate which deprived me of
friends and property at one blow.

One day I stopped at a house and asked for dinner. It was generously bestowed, and during my repast the mistress of the mansion,
a plain well-spoken woman, inquired if I had met a woman in my wanderings answering that description, and she held up a paper
on which was delineated my exact size and figure, in female
apparel. I commanded my countenance and voice sufficiently to
answer in a natural manner that I had not.

“Some men were here to[-]day in search of such a one” she continued. “They thought she could not be far off.”

The speaker turned to the closet, as she spoke, to bring thence a pie, or it is probable that she would have discovered my
alarm. Were they then so near me? I trembled in every limb, and declining the dessert provided by my hostess hastily thanked
her, and taking up my hat departed.

I always made it a point to call at the houses at such times as I thought the men would probably be absent in the fields or
on business; for I was not long in discovering that the females were far less inquisitive and curious about my affairs, besides
being more gentle and considerate than the sterner sex. Indeed had no males belonged to the house I should not have hesitated
a moment to throw myself on the compassion and generosity of the noble woman whom I had just left.

On gaining the public road I heard some hounds in full cry a short distance behind me. I doubted not they were on my track,
and commending myself to God I took refuge in the shelter of a friendly wood. Presently I heard the murmur of water, and soon
beheld at a little distance the sparkling waves of a rivulet. It w[as] broad but shallow. I entered it, waded down the current
for probably half a mile, crossed over, and was in safety. That night, fearing to approach the habitations of men I slept
in a cave, on a bed of dry leaves, but resumed my journey with the morning light.

In consequence, however, of incessant walking my feet became excessively sore. My shoes were worn off, and my sufferings most
intense. In this state I came one day by a heap of garments, which some boys had lain aside
while
to bathe. With my blistered, swollen and inflamed feet I could not resist the temptation to appropriate
a pair of boots.
It was doubtless wrong, and great necessity must be my excuse.

During all these wanderings I managed to keep the time. I carried a small cord, and tied in it a knot for every day. This
amused my loneliness, and seemed a sort of connecting link between me and the other portions of mankind. Perhaps you might
have smiled, perhaps you would have wept to hear me running over the names of the days on my cord, as the Catholic devotee
calls over the names of his favorite saints while counting his beads.

According to this record I had been two weeks a wanderer, and must have passed the borders of North Carolina when I became
suddenly aware of the proximity of human beings. I was in the midst of a deep thick wood, nocturnal shadows surrounded me,
and from appearances there was not a human habitation for many miles. Yet I had become so accustomed to darkness and solitude
that it occasioned an agre[e]able feeling rather than otherwise. My only fears were of man. Thus far I had been mercifully
preserved from the attacks of wild beasts, and my strength had been supported in an almost miraculous manner. Trusting to
him likewise, who hears and feeds the young ravens, nature had supplied to my wants an abundance of wholesome food. And now
calmly and confidingly with a grateful heart and undiminished faith, I composed myself to sleep in the friendly shelter of
a small thicket, and felt almost happy in the consciousness of perfect security.

I cannot tell how long I had slumbered,
as
I had no means of knowing, but it must have been for some time, when I was unaccountably
wakened by a noise of an unusual kind. Raising myself on my elbow I looked around and listened. The moon had risen, partially
dispelling the darkness, and casting long bright streaks of light amid the thick mass of shadows. Near by was a little opening
in the branches, through which streamed a large patch of radience, and to that my eyes instinctively turned. Directly crossing
this were the figures of two people. They were speaking, and the voices were those of a man and a woman.

“We will rest here” said the man. “I think we can do so in perfect safety, and you are so ill and weary.”

His companion heaved a deep sigh. “This will be my last resting place. This dreadful fever is consuming me, I feel weaker
and weaker every moment, and before morning I shall be unable to rise.”

“Oh no: dearest, say not so. You must not be discouraged. We have distanced our pursuers, and—”

“I know, I know” said the invalid sinking heavily to the earth with a bitter groan.

Her companion said no more, but busied himself as I could see by the moonlight in making her bed of dry leaves as comfortable
and soft as possible. Then he sate [sat] down to wait and watch over her. Her sleep was accompanied with delirium. She would
moan and call for water, and talk of home, and rest, and heaven in the most plaintive tones.

Towards morning, however, the paroxysm of her fever subsided, and she sunk into a gentle slumber. Her companion folded her
garments closely around her, and then stretching himself by her side seemed to prepare for repose. Presently my thoughts became
confused, with that pleasing bewilderment which precedes slumber. I began to lose the consciousness of my identity, and the
recollection of where I was. Now it seemed that Lindendale rose before me, then it was the jail, and anon the white towers
of Washington, and—but the scene all faded; for I slept.