The Kidnapped And The Ransomed Part 30

Peter soon discovered that the habits and condition of his relatives differed widely from those described in the South as universal among "free negroes." They were all industrious and frugal; and consequently, in comfortable circ.u.mstances.

He did not envy them, but, as he noticed their intelligence, and saw the comforts by which they were surrounded in their own homes, he could not avoid the thought that slavery had kept him ignorant and poor. "But times will change," thought he, "and if ever I get my family, my children shall have a chance to know as much as others."

CHAPTER x.x.x.

PETER'S FAREWELL VISIT TO ALABAMA.

GLADLY would his friends have retained Peter in their midst, but his plan was fixed. He determined to return immediately to the South, that he might acquaint his family with his success, and arrange some plan for their redemption. He felt that he could not himself enjoy the blessings of freedom, and the sweet society of those who loved him while his own wife and children toiled in hopeless bondage.

To his proposed return his friends, at first, refused to listen. They could not bear to lose him now, when they had just learned to love him, and they felt sure that if he went again to Alabama they should see his face no more.

It would be far better, they said, for his family to gain their liberty by flight, and perhaps if he would remain, some one would go and aid them to escape. It would be so hazardous for him to venture where, if his secret were discovered, he might be thrust into jail, and sold upon the block. But he was firm. He knew the dangers which awaited him, yet he had promised his family that he would return; and he would rather lose his life than forfeit his word to them. He knew how anxiously they would watch for his coming; he knew how their hearts would faint if he delayed;-- ah! he knew that his love was the one blessed light which shone upon poor Vina's darkened path. From his own lips she should first hear of his great happiness, and together they would try to devise a plan by which herself and children might come to share his joy.

Perhaps he could purchase their freedom. This had ever been his hope; and though his friends believed it was impossible, they failed to shake his confidence in the wisdom of making the attempt. He had rescued himself from bondage, and he knew "no such word as fail." "I can die," said he, "but I cannot live without tryin' to do something for my family--I must go back."

With many tears, the affectionate circle bade him adieu. "O, my child! my child!" sobbed his aged mother. "I never shall see your face again. You can't get back; and your poor old mother will go down to the grave a mournin' for her son. May the Lord bless you wherever you go, and deliver you from every danger!"

On the eighth of August, Peter left Philadelphia, on his return to Alabama. He feared that if he remained longer in that city, he might meet some, merchant whom he knew; as at that season they were accustomed to come on for their Fall goods. If a Tusc.u.mbian should see him there, the news would swiftly fly, that he had run away from Mr. Friedman; and then he could not return, even with free papers, to complete his cherished plan.

A kind Providence, however, attended him; and he reached Cincinnati without meeting a familiar face. Strangely commingled were his emotions, as he returned. The regretful voices of his brothers and sisters still sounded in his cars; and the memory of all their kindness during his short stay, was warm within his heart. He rejoiced that he had found them. Even if he should never be able to return to them, the dark uncertainty which had so long hung over his parentage, and had shrouded all his life in gloom, was gone.

Not less did he rejoice in the character of his newly-discovered kindred. They were evidently honest people--trusted and respected by the surrounding community. They had enjoyed great privileges too, for they were all well educated; yet they were not proud. Ah, well, it was some satisfaction that he had ever done the best he could. He had risen above all who had been his companions in bondage, and he felt that, though he was ignorant of books, his friends had no cause to be ashamed of him.

Arrived at Cincinnati, he related to his former master all his success, and communicated also his plans for the future. The Jew was both astonished and delighted at the good fortune of his humble friend, and readily promised to aid him, if possible, in negotiating for the purchase of his family.

Peter remained in Cincinnati a week, waiting for his free papers.

These he was anxious to possess on his return to Alabama, as something might occur which would render it necessary for him to prove his freedom. At last he obtained the valued certificate, of which the following is a copy: "State of Ohio, City of Cincinnati.

"Be it known that before me, Henry E. Spencer, Mayor of said City, personally appeared Isaac S. Friedman, who being duly sworn, deposes and says: that he has been acquainted with a colored man named Peter Still, alias Peter Friedman, for the last five years: that the said Peter was formerly a slave belonging to John H. Hogun, residing about three miles from Tusc.u.mbia, in the State of Alabama: that Joseph Friedman, of Tusc.u.mbia, hired the said Peter for about two years of the said John H. Hogun, and afterwards bought him, and held him as a slave for about two years longer, when Peter bought his freedom from his master, the said Joseph Friedman, brother of this deponent, by paying him the sum of five hundred dollars; as fully appears from a bill of sale given by said Joseph Friedman to said Peter, and dated Tusc.u.mbia, Ala., the 16th day of April, 1850, which bill of sale this deponent fully recognizes as genuine.

"And further this deponent sayeth not.

"ISAAC S. FRIEDMAN.".

"The foregoing affidavit of the above-named Isaac S. Friedman, to the freedom of the within-named Peter Still, having been duly sworn to and subscribed before me,--

"I therefore do declare the above-named Peter Still, alias Peter Friedman, to be a free person, and ent.i.tled to all the privileges of free persons of color, according to the laws of the State of Ohio.

"Said Peter Still is about forty-nine years of age, is five feet seven and a half inches in height, of a brownish black complexion, and without any marks or cuts.

Given under my hand, and the Corporate Seal of the City of Cincinnati, this 22d day of August, 1850.

"H. E. SPENCER,.

"Mayor."

Peter was now a man. His years of patient toil for n.o.ble objects had not made him such--his warm, unselfish heart had never proved him worthy of the enn.o.bling t.i.tle--but he possessed free papers. Guard well the treasure, Peter; for the papers lost, you may again be bought and sold--a thing of merchandise--a slave.

Immediately after receiving his papers, he started for Tusc.u.mbia.

He wore not proudly his new honors, but laying the precious certificate in the bottom of his trunk, he travelled meekly as a slave upon a "pa.s.s" from Mr. Friedman. This pa.s.s was directed to Mr. Alexander, of Tusc.u.mbia, a gentleman who had once before acted as his guardian, during the temporary absence of both the Friedman's. It requested this gentleman to permit Peter to stay at Tusc.u.mbia as long as he should wish to do so; and to send him back whenever he should be ready to return;--as his labor could be made profitable on a steamboat, and his owner could also take better care of him if he had him near himself.

Nothing of interest occurred on the homeward journey. The boat reached Tusc.u.mbia Landing on the evening of the last day of August; and early the next morning, Peter walked up to town.

Many were the friendly greetings he received as he pa.s.sed through the streets that day. Many questions were asked him concerning Mr. Friedman--his business prospects, etc. To all these Peter replied as he had been instructed. Mr. Friedman would be there before Christmas, and if Peter worked till that time on a steamboat, he should then come with him. Mr. Friedman said he could earn him more money upon a boat than any where else, and had promised to give him something for himself if he did well.

Many gentlemen questioned him very closely respecting the Free States; how he liked Cincinnati, and whether he saw there any Abolitionists.

His ideas of these "desperate characters" had been greatly modified during the week which he had spent among his relatives; but he answered in accordance with his old ideas--ideas which are carefully inculcated in the minds of slaves. He was "mighty skeered," he said, all the time he was in Cincinnati; and did not dare to go out "after night." One night, he "reckoned" he heard the "Abolitionists fightin' in the streets;" but he was away up stairs, and "too badly skeered to come down."

To all these questionings he answered as truly as he could, and kept his secret; but they made him very uneasy. He saw that the moment he should speak a word in favor of the Free States, he would be suspected, and all his movements watched. Then, if the secret of his freedom should be discovered, his kind friend, the Jew, would be drawn into trouble, as the citizens would at once accuse him of sending back a free negro to poison the minds of the surrounding slaves. So he represented the black people of Cincinnati as being wretchedly poor; and the contrast which he drew between the laborers of that city, and the happier slaves by whom he was surrounded, would have delighted the author of the "South Side View."

The same day on which Peter arrived in town, a letter came from Mr. Sloan, Princ.i.p.al of the Seminary. He was then spending the Summer vacation at the North; and he wrote to request Peter to whitewash the Seminary, and to put the whole building in complete order, for as he intended to bring on a now corps of teachers, he wished to find the place prepared for their reception.

This was most fortunate for Peter. He entered, at once, upon this work, and soon fell into the old channel of promiscuous labors. His cheerfulness remained unchanged-- indeed he was the same industrious, respectful, obedient servant; and those of the Tusc.u.mbians who had most jealously watched his movements, at last decided that not even a trip to Cincinnati could spoil Uncle Peter--he had too much sense to be carried away with the folly of the Abolitionists.

The Sat.u.r.day evening after his arrival in town, Peter rode out to Bainbridge. He would have gone sooner, for he was most impatient to see his beloved family; but he had determined to resume his old habits, and to do nothing which could betray the least unusual excitement of his feelings.

As he rode along the lonely road, his thoughts were busy. Only six weeks had pa.s.sed since last he saw his dear ones, but even in that short time what a wealth of experience had he gained! He had seen--had tasted-- liberty;--yet he could not enjoy it. He could never, indeed, be really free, while those he loved so well were slaves. But how should he get them? He knew not what course would be the best, but he knew how to trust in that Good Father, who had thus far prospered him in all his ways. He resolved to work hard, and earn all he could, for whatever plan he might adopt, money would never fail to be of use.

But perhaps even now, and his thoughts grew sad,--some one of that little number had gone down to the grave. The sickly season was at its height; and Death, within the last few weeks, had entered many a lowly cabin, and many a lofty hall.

He hastened on, yet it was quite dark before he reached the plantation. He halted at the door of Vina's cabin, and glanced anxiously at the group within. They were all there. Vina was preparing to cook the supper, and the boys were busied in making a fire for her. Thank G.o.d! they all lived!

His approach was not long unperceived. "Yes, it is father!" burst at once from the lips of the two sons, and after the first joyful how'dy', they took his horse and led it away.

"O Vina," whispered Peter, as he still held her by both her hands, "I've found all my people. I've seen my mother! Vina, my mother's a livin', and I've got five brothers and three sisters!"

Soon the boys came in, and then the history of the journey, with its glad results, was narrated to them all. How they marveled as he described to them the great cities through which he had pa.s.sed, and all the new strange sights his eyes had seen! But still greater was their wonder at the story of their far-off kindred, to whom their father had come as from the dead. And then to think that father's people were all free! Ah! how the faint hopes they had cherished of joining their father, at some future day, in the happy home he would provide for them, away off where all were free--how these hopes grew and strengthened in their hearts till they could scarcely refrain from shouting them aloud! Yet they were silent. All these bright visions of the coming joy they shut closely in from the curious eyes of their outside companions--in their mother's cabin only, and even there with caution might they give utterance to their joyful hopes.

Peter's return caused much excitement among the slaves on the plantation. It was whispered around that he had been to Cincinnati, and they were all eager to learn what he saw there; and how the people lived in a Free State. The mistress also questioned him concerning his new manner of life upon a steamboat--how he enjoyed it, etc. He replied, that he liked the business very well; and that his master was very kind to him.

"Ma.s.s'r Isaac says he'll buy my family, if I do well," added he, "do you reckon old Ma.s.s'r would sell 'em, Ma'am ?"

"I don't know," replied the lady, "he thinks a great deal of them all, and I reckon he would ask a high price for them. I don't believe less than three thousand dollars would buy them all, if indeed he would consent to let them go at all."

To his wife and children Peter revealed all his plans for their redemption. He would work, he said, in Tusc.u.mbia, till he had earned enough to bear his expenses back to Philadelphia. He dared not stay in Alabama longer than was necessary, for fear something might occur which would compel him to reveal his cherished secret. While there his liberty was all the time unsafe.

On his return to the North, he intended to set diligently to work, to earn money to buy his family; and he hoped his brothers would be able to advance a part of the price. This could soon be refunded to them, when they were all free and able to work together. He mentioned to them, also, the suggestion which some of his friends had made with regard to sending a man to a.s.sist them to escape.

"My people told me," said he, "that folks are runnin' away constant, and gwine to Canada, a place away to the North, where they never let the masters go to hunt them." But still there were so many chances for them to be taken and carried back before they could reach that distant haven, that he decidedly preferred to purchase them. Yet, "if they do send for you," said he, "you must be ready--and do the best you can." They were all willing to do whatever he thought best. The bright hope of freedom with their father illumined all the paths which Fancy painted in the future.

Early on Monday morning, Peter returned to town, and resumed his accustomed labors. His first business was to put the Seminary in order, according to Mr. Sloan's request. His manners and appearance were all unchanged. He wore his blue jean roundabout and trousers; and as he stood among the waiters in the dining-room of Mr. Horne's hotel, none of the boarders dreamed that he was that despised and hated biped--"a free n.i.g.g.e.r."

For two months and a half he remained in Tusc.u.mbia; and during that time he earned sixty dollars. Once in two weeks, as had been his custom for many years, he went to see his family. He would have gone every week, now that he was so soon to leave them, but he dreaded to excite observation by any change in his old habits; and besides, he would have to hire a horse to ride, and that would diminish his gains.

On Sat.u.r.day, the ninth of November, Peter rode out to the plantation for his last visit. He had sold every article he possessed, except his necessary clothing, and such articles as he knew would be useful to his family. With these last his horse was now loaded, and at sunset he rode up to the cabin door.

His family were expecting him, and they knew this would be his last visit. Its hours were, therefore, doubly precious. Oh! if they should be the last which the whole family might ever spend together!

He renewed his promise to buy them, if possible, and charged them to hold themselves ready. "Now, boys," said he, "you'd best not marry till you hear from me, for if I live, I will get you all, sure. And be good and kind to your mother, for she'll have no one to take care of her now but you. Get every thing you can to make her comfortable;--and you, Catharine, dont you do any thing that will make your mother ashamed of you,--for she has a heap of trouble, any how, and you all oughtent to give her no more.

Behave yourselves well; and then people will trust you, and you will be well thought of by every one."