WHEN I FIRST began my work among the slaves, all northern Kentucky was still covered with virgin forest, broken here and there by clearings, with many trails and few roads. But the prime bluegrass regions were thickly settled and rich in money and slaves. As the settlers began to build their cabins and make their clearings, the forest gradually disappeared. The increased population made it more difficult for the fugitives to pass through the country successfully, since there were many eyes to watch and few hiding places to conceal.
Another disadvantage was the gradual reduction in the number of slaves in the Borderland. This was due to two causes; so many slaves ran away, their owners, fearful of loss, sold the slaves down the river. As the fugitive depended entirely on his own race for assistance, this removal of his own people increased his difficulties of getting food and directions.
But these obstacles did not deter those slaves who were intelligent and determined to break away from their bondage. The early fall was the time that most of them selected to strike out for themselves. Though the warm summer nights were preferable for comfort, sad experiences had taught him that it was the cornfield on which he must depend for food. Besides, the ground was hard and difficult to track in the autumn.
Frequently they told me that they would wait weeks, after they had decided to run away, waiting for the corn to ripen. As soon as this food supply [was available] they were off. They always started with a bag of provisions and a load of unnecessary things. These were thrown away, until he got down to his knapsack of food.
Men and women whom I helped on their way came from Tennessee, requiring weeks to make the journey, sleeping under the trees in the daytime and slowly picking their dangerous way at night. How they crossed the numerous creeks that lay waiting for them like a trap was unbelievable to me. As a matter of fact, they became backwoodsmen, following the north star, or even mountains, to reach their destination, the Ohio River. Once there they felt they were in view of their promised land, even if they had no way to cross into it. Few had shoes, and these were so worn out by the time they reached me, the soles were held together by twine—making loose-fitting sandals.
These long-distance travelers were usually people strong physically, as well as people of character, and were resourceful when confronted with trouble, otherwise they could have never escaped. The riffraff runaways came from the Borderland, where it was comparatively easy to get away and they were not tested by repeated risks. Some of them were difficult to control.
I had an experience with one of these uncontrollable groups which made me very chary about my fugitives ever after. To begin with, they were stranded on the Kentucky shore, when I appeared rowing slowly along the shore with no object in view. My attention was attracted to them by their talking loud enough for me to know they were colored folks, and their position indicated they were runaways. Landing, I found them with ease and offered my services to get them across the river.
They were suspicious of me, and hesitated until I told them frankly they could go or stay and be captured, before they would go with me. I took them to the home of Tom McCague and concealed them in the hay. They became so noisy before I left them I decided to take them to the house and hide them in his garret.
There they became so noisy Tom McCague sent for me to quiet the lot. It was dark in the garret; [that] was what they were complaining about. I was so mad at their stupidity, one of the men making some slighting remark. I gave him a sound thrashing, and after that the crowd were meek and mild. I never had anything to do with such a rowdy crowd, and was glad to get rid of them as soon as it was dark.
In strong contrast to this shiftlessness and ingratitude of the group of rowdy fugitives, which I have just narrated, was the courage and resourcefulness of a couple of slaves who came to me from southern Kentucky. For some reason these slaves, failing to secure proper directions, had fallen into the hands of a paid spy who was en route to the town marshal’s office when the party was overtaken by colored freemen, who forcibly rescued the two fugitives and brought them to my house, which was not only thoughtless, but dangerous to me.
As it was too late to get them away before daylight, I did the second wrong thing by hiding them in my own house, something which I had always refused to do before. So I took them up to my attic, hoping that there was no one [who had] followed the fugitives to my house. Then the rumpus began and I had the fright of my whole life.
For it seems that after the rescue, the Ripley spy met an armed crowd from across the river in pursuit of their own runaways. While the two slaves in my attic were not their property, the party thought this was their one chance to get even if not completely rid of me as a menace to their own slaves. They evidently knew I had received the two men, for I had hardly settled myself down for a nap when there came a hard knocking at my front door. I made the third mistake this night by going directly to my door instead of making my first observations out of the front window. As I unlocked and opened the door the crowd rushed me, seizing me violently.
They were quite forward in their telling me that I had finally been caught in their own trap. They furthermore informed me that two slaves had been seen entering my house, and that they were still concealed somewhere within its four walls, and they proposed to search the house until they found them.
Being helpless in their hands, I made a great bluff of innocence, asking them to search the house, if they wished to do so. They would have done it without my consent, so I made the best of a bad situation, trusting to my resourcefulness to get me out of the trouble. As you will see, it was wise tactics on my part.
First they examined every nook and corner downstairs, placing guards around the house to see that no one got away. Not having formulated a plan, I delayed the search as much as I could, still looking for a loophole. Having finished the first floor, they started up the stairs, when I brought them back to examine a closet which had been overlooked, thus working every conceivable delay to gain time.
At the top of the stairs I shouted in a loud voice to my captors that they could look the house over and even on the roof, [but] they would find no one. This I did for the benefit of the two slaves in the attic, not only to notify them of their danger, but to give them a clue to take refuge on the roof, which was my only chance of getting out of the jam. After this loud talk I conducted the party into my bedroom, kept them busy looking into closets, slamming the doors, and making all the confusion I could, to muffle any row the slaves might make in their efforts to escape capture.
My captors were in no mood to delay matters, feeling sure of finding their prey, then, not finding them as they went from room to room, they became angry and abusive. They also interpreted all my forwardness in helping their search was in an effort to divert them from the real place of concealment.
They then took matters into their own hands and brooked no further interference. I made no complaint, because I knew my men had ample time to do what they were able to in carrying out their plans of concealment or escape, neither of which I was exceedingly doubtful could be done.
All the while I was fairly quaking inwardly with fear, from the discovery of the two slaves that would surely follow when the garret was searched. I put off swallowing this bitter pill as long as I could, as I could see the confiscation of all my land and seized property, and the wreckage of my whole life’s work. I had a fleeting hope that in some way the stairs to the attic would be overlooked, as the whole party had passed by them in their search.
It was only a fleeting hope, however, for as we crowded out into the hall one of the searchers exclaimed: “There’s the attic stairs.” If the man had pronounced the judgment of death upon me, I could not have felt the shock more than I did at this announcement of his discovery.
As we climbed the stairs one at a time I thought it would be best for the slaves as well as myself to confess my guilt, call on the two men to surrender, and thus put an end to my manhunt. Then I calmed down, stood fast on my section of landing on to the last minute and beyond, and held my breath.
I knew the room permitted no hiding place for one man, let alone two, as it was a plain attic with rafters showing overhead and clear floor beneath. The detection of the two men was only a question of a few moments. The man ahead of me carried a lighted lantern, the feeble rays dimly dispelling the darkness of the attic. Looking through the gloom, I saw the shadowy outline of the two … figures in the farthest corner.
I faltered and my heart went sick as I waited for the exultant shout of the men about me. If the leader was blind, surely the men who crowded up the stairs would see, but they too stared and said nothing. Could my eyes deceive me? Not at all, because there in front of them I could see the two fugitives, so that it was only a question of time for my captors to be accustomed to the surrounding darkness, to see the slaves as I saw them.
I turned my eyes away, for fear my staring would give the position of the two slaves away. Still I could not conceive how two men could be in plain sight as these were to me, and not be seen by the rest of the party. I suggested that we go back downstairs. Instead, the man with a lantern advanced further into the attic, while the outline of the two fugitives faded away, leaving only an empty space.
A diligent search throughout the garret proved that the men had escaped, [a surprise] to me and a complete puzzle to the searchers. I was really puzzled myself until I discovered the ladder leading to the roof was missing. Then it was that I knew that my two men were hugging the roof, but they had [taken] the precaution to haul up the ladder with them. I had a bad moment when the man with the lantern held it high over his head; it was only the last act of his futile search of the disappointed crowd.
Before leaving they swore unless they found the men, they would return the next night and burn my home. While it was an idle threat, it did indicate to me that they were not satisfied I did not have the two men hid away someplace in my home. It also warned me I must be careful in getting my men away the following night. It was well that I took heed, as you will soon see.
After due allowance of time and also examination, I succeeded in getting the two men down from their precarious position on a slanting roof and hid them in my cellar during the following day. Expecting a visit from my captors of the previous night, I decided to get them out of my house as soon as it was dark, and furthermore I would not guide them out of town, but would assign this task to Tom Collins, who would not be watched.
Without waiting for the people of the town to quiet down, I led the two fugitives along Front Street to the home of Collins. As we entered I saw a man in a shadow, whom I knew was on watch, and we had been discovered. There was no time to lose. In the hurried conference with Collins, we decided his house was not safe and the only available space was in his workshop in his back yard.
We had hardly reached the shop when there was hard knocking at the front door. Then a second and a third impatient and threatening pounding which threatened to force the door from its hinges. Finally Collins, having hurriedly reentered his house, opened the door, dreading the cause of so much violence.
He was faced by the same crowd that had visited my house the night before, and greeted by the statement that he was harboring runaways, who had been seen to enter his house a short time before. Without arguing the point he invited them to enter and search his house, depending on me to take care of the fugitives.
Suspecting that the house was watched on all sides, I slid out the back way through a vacant lot, only to find a man on guard. Fortunately he did not see me. Returning to the shop, I advised the men it was a case of fighting our way through the group of slave owners or overcoming the guard, which I had made up my mind to do, when I was startled to hear voices in the yard headed towards the shop, completely blocking my way out to the alley. Hastily looking around the shop, all I could see was a carpenter’s bench and old cupboard, both of which were out of the question as places of concealment.
Lying along the floor in a row were a number of coffins, ready for use. Fortunately, the tops lay on the caskets loosely. Picking up one lid, I motioned a man to get in. He hesitated until I pushed him and placed [the] lid on top of him. The second man I concealed in the same manner. The third casket I selected for myself.
While it has taken time to tell of our actions, I assure you it only took a breath or two to execute them. I let the silence of the shop bear out its grim prospects. We did not have long to wait in our places of self-internment until the crowd trooped into the shop. Though they examined the shop, and cupboard particularly, they did not in that gloom care to touch the row of coffins, feeling assured that no colored man would ever consign his living body to such a place of concealment.
Fortunately, this superstition prevailed. I almost coughed, and I was afraid one of the other men might not be able to control himself as well as I had done. However, the fortunes of war were with us, and the searchers, standing around for a few minutes discussing our disappearance, left the shop apparently to go away.
I stayed in my coffin until my nerves began to jump, then I pushed aside the lid and stepped out of my gruesome hiding place. The two fugitives were as much affected by the coffins as I was, in fact they were more fearful of them than they were of the presence of their enemies. I assure you that if the pursuers had returned, I do not believe I could have persuaded them to return to their caskets.
After waiting until I thought the excitement was all over, I gradually opened the door, only to look into the face of a man who was standing by for us to come back. Leaping back, I drew my pistol and waited.
While I was standing there fearful and expectant of trouble, there was a gentle tap. Then it came to me that my man was Tom Collins with a message. Opening the door slightly, he told me that the house was guarded in front and the alley as well. He did not tarry, but left me with the two charges on my hands. What was I to do? It was evident I could not stop there.
As the front and rear of the Collins house was watched, the only way out was over the side fence through the neighboring yards. Fortunately, my friend and colleague Tom McCague lived a few yards away, so it was only a matter of care and caution to go cross yards to find a safe refuge with him.
This I did, leading the way with my two men following me like two moving shadows. Making my way into the house, I soon had him up, my story told, and the two men left in his care while the would-be watchers kept their silent but hapless vigil.
After carefully surveying the field, I went over more back fences and more lots until I came to another alley, which I followed down to Front Street, thence back home, having finally gotten rid of the two most perplexing fugitives I ever had anything to do with. They went to Canada the next night, with someone else as guide….