EVEN MY ADVENTURES of comedy had a way of trailing off into the tragic, which made me keep my wits keen to what was going on about me. This next incident was the final one, so far as I knew, that had to do with the seeing of that $ 1,000 reward, which in those days was large enough to induce my would-be captors to take the greatest chances.
That I survived was due not so much to bravery or courage but to a second instinct of suspicion and trouble. I might also say to the crude way that the men engaged in the enterprise approached me. It was poor planning and worse thinking that was my real safety.
Of course, I was never off guard myself, while my wife was a good watchdog herself. As my home was on the top of the bank of the river, it was easy of access to anyone who cared to row across the river and walk up to the top of the bank. Besides, my house was remote from my friends, which made it all the more accessible to those who ventured to attack me. It was so easy to reach, one night a band of kidnappers made the venture; as you can surmise from my opening words, with the tables turned to humor rather than the reward. So it did open, but in the end, well, that’s the story.
I was aroused about midnight by gentle rapping on my front door, as I kept it locked and chained so that no one could enter. It was one of those timid pleading knocks which would indicate runaways uncertain of their position and badly scared. As usual my wife did the preliminaries by throwing up the window, while I stood beside her to size up the situation. There was a single colored man standing at the door. I asked him what he wanted. To my query he replied that he was a runaway, and for me to come down at once.
My wife, who, of course, had heard the conversation, intuitively mistrusted the man—accordingly advised me strongly not to go down. From the man’s speech I knew he was a colored man, and I felt might be in distress. In spite of my wife’s warnings I went down. Placing the chain in position, I stood out of sight.
Instead of coming to the top step where I could see him, he persisted in standing away on the ground, insisting on my coming out, instead [of] begging me to let him in. Now I was on guard, suspecting a trick of some sort was about to be worked on me.
The man had a perfectly earnest story in that he had run away to Canada leaving his wife behind. He had now come back for her and wanted me to go with him to her rescue. I told him it was too late to try tonight, but if he would come in and spend the day with me, we would go the next night. To this he replied we must go that night as his wife was to be sold the next day. This statement I did not believe, because I knew under the circumstances no return slave would have such advance and accurate information.
By this time I had my plans to get him into the house, so I could make him tell me the truth. Standing behind my chained door, I began sympathizing with him at the possibility of the loss of his wife, and invited him to come to the top step, where I could speak with him freely. After some talk I finally persuaded him to come up to the doorway.
In the meantime, I had slipped the door chain, and was ready for action. As the man reached the top step, I suddenly threw the door wide open, reached out and grabbed him by the coat collar. With a quick jerk I drew him into the house, and slammed the door, chaining and locking it. I had my man now at close quarters.
In the meantime, my wife, who had been standing at the top of the stairs, came down with a lighted lamp, so I could get a good look at my captive. He was a stranger to both of us. There was no question as to his color, as he was black as ebony. I began questioning the man, and the more he talked, the more I was convinced there was something radically wrong with his story and himself.
Next door to me lived one of my best molders. He was a white man, loyal to me and sympathetic with my work among the slaves. I sent my wife over to bring Tim, as I felt there was work for two of us, to get the truth out of my man.59
When Tim came I told him of my suspicions. Tim went after the man roughshod, threatening to throw him in the cupola unless he came out with the truth. The man began to grow weary, and said he did not want to lose any more time, but would go by himself to rescue his wife; at the same time [he] edged towards the door. I blocked the way, pointing my revolver at the man.
I told him that unless he told me the truth I would shoot him. This was too much for the black man, as he fell to his knees [and] begged for his life. He then confessed he was only a decoy, sent by four men who were all strangers who came from back in Kentucky, [who] were lying behind a log on the riverbank waiting for him to bring me down to the skiff.
He said that the men planned to kidnap me, if I resisted, to kill me. They were determined to earn the reward of $ 1,000 dead or alive. He pleaded he was there against his will, as one of the men was his master, and had threatened to kill him if he had not come and told the story he did. Strange as it may seem, the man pleaded for me to turn him loose so he could go back to his master. Tim was for giving the fellow a good beating and sending him back to his treacherous master.
As I was standing with my back to the door, watching my man in dim lamplight, the thought came to me of running the slave off to Canada, as a good joke on his master. When I unfolded my story to Tim, the slave pleaded he did not want to go to Canada and leave his wife. He promised faithfully he would come back the next night if we would only let him go now.
Tim looked at me, but I shook my head and said we would run him away whether [he wished it] or no. The man begged and pleaded, but I was more interested now in sending a warning on [to] my enemies than I was in the wishes of this man. As I could not go myself, I told Tim to take him to Red Oak and leave him. With pistol drawn, Tim and the man went on their way. The last I saw of the slave was the Irishman close on his back swearing dire threats unless he went along peaceably to Canada.
With the decoy gone, I foolishly determined to seek my would-be kidnappers in their wooden log lair. By this time it was getting towards daylight as it was in July. I decided to give Tim a good lead, so I waited as long as I could before I began my performance. Having waited [until] the last minute, placing two pistols in my jacket, carrying my hunting knife openly in my hand, with a large English mastiff at my heels, I started over the bank to confront my enemies.
Being thoroughly familiar with the ground and the log back of which the men were lying, I was careful to approach them from the river side between them and their skiff, which I saw drawn up on the shore. Coming opposite the log, I drew my pistol and called for the men to come out. As there was no answer, for a moment the thought came to my mind perhaps the slave had deceived me. All such notions left me when I saw the gleam of a gun over the top of the log. I needed no further evidence to establish the sinister ambush that had been prepared for me.
A second time I called the men, warning them that I knew of their hiding place. Furthermore I had summoned my friends, who were at the top of the bank, ready to shoot them down if any injury came to me. Of course, the only force present was myself, my wife, and my dog. The only response to this statement was the ominous click of a rifle as it was cocked, made ready to fire. My faithful dog came to my rescue as he now leaped on the top of the log and began barking furiously.
This diversion no doubt saved my life, for the four men, seeing their hiding place was known, now came out in the open and confronted me. They were armed with rifles and pistols in their belts, as the dawn now began to break over the eastern hills. They were threatening and furious, demanding their slave. I was perfectly oblivious of any man and demanded to whom they referred, what was his name, and where was he going.
My calm defiance only irritated them the more until they turned on me and threatened, unless I produced their man immediately, they would shoot me on the spot. I am quite sure it never occurred to them that their man was gone at this time, [for had they realized it] they would have shot me offhand.
As they persisted in wanting to know where their man was, I kept asking, “What man?” determined to force a confession out of their own perfidy. Finally one of the men confessed they had sent a man to my house. I replied there was a runaway at my house who wanted to go to Canada, and the last I saw of him he was going that way.
Then my good fortune shone on me, and I assure you I needed it badly. For as the men were drawn up ready to shoot me, a neighbor whom my wife had aroused called me by name from the top of the bank. I answered, saying I was talking to four men, giving their names, saying I was coming at once. Backing away from the party, I kept my face toward them, as I did not propose to be shot down without defending myself.
I backed away, until I reached a point of safety, leaving four men standing helplessly by with a hatred that but for their own safety would have prompted them to shoot me down in my tracks. Once out of the range of their guns, I was rightly glad to run as fast as I could to safety. From the top of the bank I saw the skiff with the four men pull away, fairly beside themselves with rage, and one of them less a slave for their futile night’s raid.
I was anxious about the slave whom I was forcibly running away, because all he had to do was to raise an outcry and the law would be back of him. But Tim reported that the man decided that it was too good a chance to lose, and agreed to go on via the Underground Railway. So far as I ever knew he must have reached his promised land.