“And after that”
[“]Of what happened after that for a long a very long time I have only a confused recollection. My thoughts were in Chaos. I was half mad, half-wild, and then Mr Trappe who had occasioned all my misery undertook to console me—said that no one but himself and two or three other obscure persons were informed of the secret and that gold would shut the mouths of all.
[“]And thus I bribed him to secresy, but you know the rest you know the horrible foreboding that renders my very existence a curse—and now what shall I do? Oh what shall I do?”
She ceased speaking, and it was my turn to say something. I saw that her only chance was in flight, flight immediate and precipitate.
“You have inquired what you shall do” I began “and though it becomes not a slave to advise I think the question might be satisfactorily answered.”
“How—how?”
[“]You must fly from this house, from this place, from this country, fly immediately—to[-]night—or stay. I have a better plan. My master as yet knows nothing of it. Mr Trappe is gone you can go away in open daylight and in your carriage giving out that you design to visit a relative.[”]
My mistress was delighted with the plan. Her first thought was to escape from the horrible doom impending over her, and she eagerly grasped the least shadow of hope. She thanked me, she kissed me, and for the first time she wept over me.
[“]And you will go with me?[”] she inquired.
“I will, my dear mistress.”
[“]Call me mistress no longer. Henceforth you shall be to me as a very dear sister” she said embracing me again. “Oh: to be free, to be free.”
There was something ominous to me in the transports of her joy. Her eyes were illuminated and her countenance shone. The transition was sudden and complete, but it is ever thus with impulsive natures.
“My dear Mistress.”
“There: there, mistress again when I have forbidden it.”
“Well then, my dear friend, let us weigh this matter well. I advise flight by all means, yet the time, the way, the route should all be duly considered. You have relatives residing near the Steamboat landing on the James River?”
“I have.”
“We will talk of going there to spend a week.”
But a revulsion was taking place in her feelings, and she burst into tears. “My husband” she said “how can I bear to deceive him so.”
“Your flight will occasion less trouble to him when he comes to know the truth than any other course that you could take.”
Again she wept and moaned, while I comforted and consoled her, and sought to imbue her with the idea that it was a time for thinking and acting rather than giving way to overstrained sensations of any kind.
“Oh I will try, I will try” she would say, when I thus reminded her. “I will to be composed, but you know not, you cannot know, nor even imagine the mental agony that I have suffered. You will forgive me but I must weep” and then she would burst into such a passion of tears, and wild hysterical sobbing that it alarmed me. After a few hours, however, she acquired serenity of mind and greater fixedness of purpose. Yet she was impatient to be gone, but declined the project of visiting as she said her husband would certainly wish to accompany her.
“How then?” I inquired.
[“]Why we will just go away, leave the place altogether. We can reach the river by morning I think, if we start at midnight, and once there a steamboat will soon convey us beyond the reach of our pursuers.”
“And Lizzy.”
“I shall leave her.”
It was now near night, and the glorious summer sunset never looked more beautiful, yet my reflections were meloncholy, though not so much on my own account as that of my mistress. How would she bear the exposure—how endure the fatigue?, but relaxation of purpose I never thought of. I knew that degradation and disgrace awaited her if she remained, and that she would be tortured by a suspense more horrible than the worst reality. In a short time, probably her escape would be rendered doubly difficult, if not impossible.
Thus I reasoned with myself while the shadows fell and night slowly gathered over the landscape. At the usual time I went to the room of my mistress The still still night very quiet and beautiful and The still still night on the dusty roads, and over the quiet woods over the gardens and the feilds I lifted the window and looked out with a feeling akin to regret. Lindendale had been the home of childhood, and with it was connected all the associations of my riper years. Within its shadows, though a slave, I had known many happy days. I had been the general favorite of the young people on the estate, but though I loved them much, I loved my mistress more.
She had excused herself from meeting her husband at supper, and Lizzy had been dismissed to attend a dance in the neighborhood, but we considered it expedient to defer all preparations till the house became quiet. How slowly the hours passed away—how long the servants lingered in the kitchen. How long it seemed before the lights were extinguished in the surrounding cabins, but little by little the voices, hum and confusion ceased; one by one the cabins were darkened. The time had arrived.
Silently I went to the room of my Mistress, and as silently entered. There was a dim light burning on the table, yet so shaded as not to be seen from the window. She was dressed and vailed, and she rose to meet me with more composure than I had expected. “My dear good Hannah” she said “I think you had better stay. You are of great use here. What will the old people, and the children— the weak helpless ones do without you—what—”
But I interrupted her. “And leave you to go forth alone. My dear indulgent mistress—never, never.”
Just then the rising wind howled mournfully around the house, and the Linden creaked audibly. I shuddered at the sound.
“If you will go, if you really wish to go” she resumed [“]if you desire freedom for its own sake, far be it from me to speak a word of discouragement, but we may be pursued, and overtaken and brought back, and then.”
“I know.”
“I would not be the means of your going, and that you should be exposed to punishment for my sake.”
“Say no more, my mind is fixed. We will go and trust in heaven.”
She extinguished the light and all was darkness. Hand in hand we listened, all was still; we went down stairs softly, the hall was deserted; we opened and shut the door—again listened and looked, but no one was near—then paused, lingered a moment, turned to the house with a farewell glance, and then left turned to the wide expanse of feild and forest and meadow, crossed by intersecting roads, and hurried away.
CHAPTER 5
Lost, Lost, Lost
When men say peace and safety sudden destruction cometh
BIBLE
We took the road leading to the river, and walked hastily forward. It was not a time to loiter or linger, freedom, happiness, everything perhaps life was at stake. We trembled at a sound, a shadow filled us with alarm. Trees in the dusky gloom took the forms of men, and stumps and hillocks were strangely transferred into blood-hounds crouching to spring on their prey. Every one must be aware that in the southern states a person traveling at night, especially a female, would be certain to excite observation. We came near being betrayed on two or three occasions. Once we heard the distant murmur of voices and the tramp of horses’ feet, evidently approaching at a rapid pace. There was not a moment to be lost. To pass them without exciting suspicion would be impossible. True my mistress was well known in that neighborhood, but what excuse could she frame for being out there at the dead time of night. Nothing but concealment presented itself, but where how could we find a place. The whole country was an open common. They’re There was neither wood, nor tree, nor fence. To increase our difficulties the moon which had been concealed behind a cloud shone out brilliantly. Meanwhile the voices and the trampling feet grew nearer and nearer, retreat was impossible, to advance would be fatal to our hopes, and wrapping our cloaks muffling our heads and faces, and hands in our cloaks we cro
uched on the ground in terror determined to abide the worst. As it terminated this was the wisest course we could have taken. They glanced casually towards us, and probably mistook us for cattle sleeping on the common. passed a
Again we were overtaken by a physician, who had been summoned to attend a sick-bed, and yet again we came near encountering a planter who was returning from some distant expedition to his home. His blood-hound sate [sat] at his feet in the carriage, and passing near where we lay behind some bushes, we distinctly heard his fierce growl, and saw the fiery gleaming of eyes. We heard his master inquire, “What do you see, Cesar?” and then sharply eyeing the clump of cedars, and seeing only seeing the thick dark branches, he continued addressing the dog “You thought you scented a Negro. I suppose but there is nothing there.”
To our unspeakable relief he was soon out of sight.
We went on for several hours and were greatly fatigued. Towards morning, I knew the time by the stars and the fresh breezes my mistress declared that she could go no farther, and that she must rest.
“But, my dear Mistress are we not near the river. We must be there by morning to meet the boat. Lean on me if you are weary. I am much the stronger.”
She was nervous and excited; at one moment bouyed by hope and exultant, the next overcome by the deepest despondency, and though endeavoring to do my utmost to soothe and comfort her I felt my own strength giving way under the increasing weight of a dreadful suspicion.
It had occurred to me once before, and where the roads intersected each other that we were going wrong. This became more apparent every moment, yet I feared to communicate the painful truth to her. She might bear it heroically, or she might sink beneath it, and so I determined to stop, wait for the morning light, and ascertain the fact. There was a wood near by, thick, dense with undergrowth, and thither I led my mistress, prepared for her a mossy seat, wrapped my own cloak around her; then seating myself behind her I drew her head to my bosom, and bade her sleep.
At first she was painfully awake, and would start and shudder at the least sound. I well knew the soothing and comforting influences to be derived from reading portions of the Holy Scripture, in times of trouble and affliction, and so commenced repeating many beautiful passages from the Psalms.
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”
“Therefore we will not fear though the earth be removed and the mountains carried into the midst of the sea.”
“God is our refuge in distress, an ever present help in times of trouble.”
“He is indeed” she softly murmured.
And then while I continued the blessed insensibility of sleep slowly locked her senses in oblivion.
I determined to watch and wait. But weary nature will have her rights. By degrees the scenes and objects in which I had mingled through the day recurred to my memory in a manner confused and indistinct, and I soon lost all recollection of where and what I was.
It was bright fresh morning when I woke, the leaves were whispering and the birds singing. So profound had been my slumber that it required an effort to recall the events of the preceding day, or to understand fully my situation. I looked around for my companion. She had awakened first, and deeming my posture uncomfortable had gradually lowered me to the ground, formed a pillow of leaves for my head, and covered me with our cloaks. She smiled, but sadly and wearily, at my look of surprise, and coming towards me expressed her gratitude that I had slept so well.
I arose with a feeling of weakness pervading my whole frame, and my head swam with a strange sensation of giddiness. I well knew the cause. Without any appetite I apprehended the necessity of food. We had made no provision for this contingency, because we had anticipated reaching the boat by morning, and now what next?
Before proceeding farther it was necessary to hold a consultation. To procure food was out of the question except such as nature spontaneously afforded, and I dismissed the thought. My mistress for the time seemed incapable of action or decision. She reclined wearily on a mossy knoll, her face buried in her hands, and tho she said nothing I felt that she must be aware how far we had wandered from the right way.
“My dear Mistress” I said approaching her. “We have certainly been going from the river instead of towards it. Don’t you think so?”
She nodded in the affirmative.
“Have you any idea what part of the country we are in?”
She shook her head.
“Were you ever here before?”
“Never.”
“Then what shall we do?”
“Just sit down and die here” she replied, with a sort of shriek. “It is horrible, dreadful to be sure, but better after all than to be sold for a slave.”
I saw that one of her nervous excited spells was coming on, and felt all the more the absolute necessity for strong resolution and courage on my own part. I spoke up cheerily, and how my cheerfulness belied my real feelings. “We will do no such thing. I will climb yonder hill. Perhaps I can thence obtain a view of some village, or river, or something else that will show us where we are.”
She quietly acquiesced in my proposal, and I ascended the hill. There was a house, but no village in the distance. There were men laboring in the adjacent feilds and I heard the barking of a dog. I gathered a few berries, carried them to my companion and entreated her to eat. She refused, saying that she had no appetite.
“But you are weak and faint. Eat my beloved mistress for my sake if not your own.”
Thus I plead[ed] with and entreated her, and finally prevailed. She partook a small quantity.
We lingered in the woods till nearly noon uncertain what course to pursue. To our confused intellects even the sun appeared to occupy a wrong position in the heavens. Oh: the horror the bewilderment of being lost. After a time, however, I felt a new confidence springing up within me. I felt that we had one friend and protector and that One the greatest and the best. We could not be utterly forsaken, and hopeless and helpless when God was near. We had committed no crime and what had we to fear? We had not the appearance of fugitives from slavery. No one there could recognise who and what we were. We could easily reach the house I had discovered, where perhaps we could ascertain all we desired to know.
This plan I communicated to my mistress. At first she hesitated, declaring that detection would be worse than death.
“But there can be detection” I replied.
“Oh: I don’t know I don’t know” she answered wringing her hands.
“I can see no reason why we should fear it. We will represent ourselves as poor women who have become accidental[l]y lost.”
“Which will be no more than the truth” she said with a sudden energy.
“Certainly it will be truth, and as such we will tell it. Now let us go.”
I took her hand, and she arose, but her apparent weakness really surprised and alarmed me. I could not fully appreciate all she had suffered; for tho’ a slave myself I had never possessed freedom, wealth, and position as she had, but I saw its effects in the utter prostration of her nervous system, her trembling limbs, and tottering steps.
Determined not to be again misled; for the second time I ascended the hill, took good notice of the direction, and then went down. She was sitting where I had left her at the foot. I assisted her to rise, gave her my arm, bade her be of good courage, and led her unresistingly across the plain.
It was farther to the house than I had at first supposed; and we were obliged to cross a small stream where some boys were fishing. They regarded us with evident surprise, and one of the smaller boys called out to his companions that two crazy women were coming.
“Not exactly that my good little fellow” I said soothingly. “Not exactly that, but almost as bad; we are lost, give can you give us the direction to the village of Milton to which the steamboat runs.[”]
“Bless you, Madam, he can’t tell you anything about it. He is too little. I am bigger you see,” and the little fellow assumed an air of
childish importance really laughable to behold.
“Well” I said “as you are bigger, perhaps you can tell us.”
“To be sure I can” he replied “but Missus it is a long road.”
“Think so?”
“Yes, and yonder are some boys bigger still than I am, and may be they could tell you still better.”
“Perhaps they could” I answered “but who lives in that large house yonder?”
“Why father lives there.”
“And what is your father’s name?”
“Frederick Hawkins, but they call him Colonel sometimes.”
“And do you suppose that we could get some food; and rest for a short time in your father’s house before we proceed?”
“Oh: I know very well that you could. I will go with you and tell him that you have been lost, and that you are hungry and weary.”
I looked at my mistress. She said nothing but shook her head. I hesitated I [sic] [a] minute or two and then decided that probably, in view of all the circumstances, it would be better to go on directly to the village. We obtained the necessary information and started off, traveling through fields and along by roads in order to escape observation. But we made slow progress. Unaccustomed to fatigue, or any continued exercise my dear companion could not bear it, and she was often very often compelled to stop and rest. On such occasions I could scarcely tell which predomderated predominated—her great fear and horror of discovery, or her affectionate tenderness to me.
“My dear Hannah” she would say “what a great trouble I be to you—how you are obliged to wait on me, and to wait for me. Oh, if I was only strong, if I could only walk on fast and briskly like you can, if I could bear exposure and want as you bear them, how rejoiced I should be.”
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