Chapter Fifteen.
A Dash for Freedom.
To find one’s self sold into slavery must be a thoroughly unpleasant experience; yet when George Leicester that night found himself actually a slave, the tenant of a slave-cabin, and with slaves only for his future companions and associates, he felt by no means discouraged. There was no oppressive feeling of despair weighing down his heart and crushing his spirit into utter hopelessness; on the contrary, he had the feeling as if a great load of care and anxiety had been lifted from off his heart; he now knew the worst of what was to befall him; he fully recognised that the life before him was to be one of unrequited hardship at least, and, it might be, also of suffering and bitter tyranny; but he braced himself to meet it all, whatever it might be, with unflinching fortitude, sustained by the steadfast, inextinguishable hope of eventual escape.
This hope indeed of eventual escape rose high within his breast, now that he had actually arrived upon the spot from which it must be made. The estate of which he was now one of the chattels was that of a tobacco and sugar planter. Of its extent he could at present form no opinion; but he saw that it was of considerable size, the whole of the cultivated ground within sight being the property of his owner. It was situated upon a tolerably level plain, with a road running through it, from the main road along which they had recently travelled, up to the planter’s house, a wide straggling stone structure, with a thatched roof and a verandah all round, occupying the summit of a slight eminence nearly in the middle of the estate. Behind the house, at a distance of some twenty yards, stood another building, which George rightly guessed to be the stables; the slave-huts, of which there were thirty-four, were built, at a distance of about a quarter of a mile from the house, on a gentle slope, at the foot of which stood the boiling-house and sugar-mill, the store-houses, the tobacco factory, etcetera; and just beyond them, again, ran a tiny sparkling stream, from which was obtained the power for driving the crushing machinery.
The slave-cabins were wholly unenclosed, and George had not failed to notice on his arrival upon the estate that, though it was certainly fenced in, the fencing consisted of nothing more than a common rough post-and-rail fence, evidently intended merely to keep out cattle, and in his innocence he began to think that escape from such a place would prove a very easy matter, after all. “What, indeed,” he asked himself, “was to prevent his rising from his bed upon the very first favourable night which should arrive, and quietly walking off the estate?” What, indeed?
But escape was far too precious a thing to be risked by being undertaken in ignorance of whatever perils might attend the attempt, so he resolved that for the present he would not attempt to frame any plans whatever; he felt pretty certain that, as a new acquisition, he would be closely watched for some time to come by those who might have the more immediate charge of him, and his first task, he told himself, must be to disarm any suspicion which might exist in their minds as to an intention on his part to escape. The time necessary to the accomplishment of this might also be profitably employed in acquiring a knowledge of Spanish, without which he fully realised that his attempt must inevitably fail; and he believed that, by the time he had thus paved the way for the great attempt, his ingenuity would have proved sufficient to gain without suspicion from his fellow-slaves a tolerably accurate idea of the perils and difficulties with which he would have to contend.
He took the lad Tom into his confidence at once, intending, of course, that the poor boy should, if he were willing to incur the risk, go with him and Walford, and share with them at least the chance of freedom; and so, from the very first day of their thraldom, there were two keen, intelligent brains incessantly at work, diligently clearing the way to recovered liberty. To Walford George said nothing whatever of his purpose; the unfortunate wretch could not possibly aid them, and there was the possibility that he might unwittingly betray them.
At six o’clock next morning the great bell at the engine-house rang, this being the signal for the slaves to turn out and get breakfast. Half an hour was allowed for this, and at half-past six they were formed into gangs, and marched off to the fields in charge of the overseers.
George and Walford were handed a hoe apiece, and attached to one of the gangs detailed for work in the tobacco-fields. The lad Tom was attached to another gang, and he spent his first day of slave-labour among the sugar-cane.
The tobacco was fast ripening, and was just then at one of its many critical stages, the plants requiring individually almost as much care and attention as a new-born child. Each plant required that the earth should be hoed up round its stalk with almost mathematical accuracy to a certain height and no more; and every leaf had to be tenderly and scrupulously examined twice or thrice daily, to guard against the ruinous attack of the tobacco-grubs. It was exhausting, back-breaking labour, particularly for those unaccustomed to it, and the drivers’ whips were freely used to stimulate the sluggards or those who exhibited any signs of a tendency to shirk the work; but George soon saw—and congratulated himself upon the circumstance—that the rule was evidently a mild one on this particular plantation, the whip being rarely used without provocation. It is scarcely necessary to say that Leicester was quite resolved to save himself from the indignity of the lash, if hard work would do it; and he was fortunate enough to return to his hut on that first day without the whip having once been raised against him.
Thus passed day after day, and week after week; the only variation being that, when the tobacco was in proper condition, the fields had to be gone through with the utmost care, and those leaves which were sufficiently ripe were then picked, and laid in little heaps in the sun to “sweat” and cure, this process being repeated daily until the entire crop was gathered in. Then followed the “cleaning” of the fields and their preparation for another crop, and so on, upon all of which it is unnecessary to dwell.
George and Tom devoted the whole of their brief leisure after the work of the day was over to the cultivation of a knowledge of Spanish, being fortunate enough, in their pursuit of this acquirement, to make the acquaintance of a young and very intelligent negro, who had been for many years valet to his master, but, being unlucky enough to incur that gentleman’s displeasure, had been sent in disgrace into the field-gang. With him as a tutor their progress was rapid, and in little over six months they were able to converse in Spanish with tolerable fluency.
When at length George found that he was fairly master of the language, he began cautiously to touch on the subject of escape, a topic upon which Pedro, his tutor, was luckily always ready to enlarge. This gentleman, regarding himself as an injured individual, was always threatening—among his fellow-slaves, of course—to run away; and George was once on the point of declaring to the fellow his own intention of doing the same thing, but luckily his discretion stepped in and prevented his committing so great an imprudence, the reflection occurring to him just in time, that a man who talked so much about the matter was, after all, very unlikely to act to any purpose.
One night, however, Pedro entered George’s cabin, looking very gloomy and sulky; and, flinging himself down on a stool, he announced that he had called to say farewell, as he was fully determined not to submit any longer to such base treatment.
“Why, what has happened now, Pedro?” exclaimed George, when he heard this announcement.
“I will tell you, friend George,” answered Pedro. “You may possibly have observed that miserable piece of insolence called Juan, who has been promoted to the post from which I was so unjustly expelled? Well, this wretched ape must needs send—send, mind you, not come down and himself ask, but send—for a man to move some furniture up at the house there. I have no doubt he specially named me, as I was ordered to go; and I—I refused; I declined to be subjected to such an indignity, and for this I was at once flogged. I have been humiliated, disgraced, dishonoured, and I am resolved not to bear it any longer; I shall fly to-night.”
“Well,” said George, “I hope you will get off clear; I see no reason why you should not.”
“You do not?” exclaimed Pedro. “Ah! my good friend, that is because you are new to this wretched country. Are you not aware, then, that the master keeps quite a pack of bloodhounds for the purpose of hunting runaway slaves, and that these bloodhounds are turned loose every night to scour the estate? They have been trained to watch over us and prevent our escape. If I should happen to encounter one to-night, I shall be compelled to abandon the attempt; for he will follow me about, and, should I attempt to pass the fencing, spring upon and hold me until his baying brings the overseers to the spot. Have you never encountered any of these fiends of dogs?”
“Never,” answered George, his heart sinking at the startling news. “This is the first I have heard of them. Then is it quite impossible to walk about the estate at night without being pounced upon by a bloodhound?”
“Oh, dear no,” was the reply. “They are so trained that they will not molest you so long as you keep within the boundaries of the estate; but they will watch and follow you until you return to your cabin. And, of course, as there is only a dozen of the dogs in all, you may perchance get away without encountering one of them. But if you do, your prospects of escape are still small, for you would be missed in the morning, the dogs would at once be put upon your track, and a regular slave-hunt would then begin. A slave-hunt is rare sport, I promise you—for everybody but the slave.”
“Then it seems,” remarked George, “that, even in the event of your getting clear of the estate, you have very little hope of escape, after all?”
“None,” was the reply, “none whatever—unless you happen to possess a certain secret, the secret of hiding the scent, so that the dogs cannot follow your trail. Then, indeed, you may hope to escape, but not otherwise. I am fortunate enough to possess this secret, and as we have been good friends—you and I—I do not mind letting you into it—provided that if you make one in the hunt to-morrow—they take slaves to help sometimes—you will aid my escape in any way you can.”
“Agreed!” exclaimed George joyously. “In any case I would do that. Still, the secret is a valuable one, and I should like to be made acquainted with it.”
“You shall, amigo,” said Pedro. And, placing his hand inside the bosom of his shirt, he produced a handful of leaves.
“Do you see these?” he asked.
George intimated that he did.
“Take particular notice of them, so that you may recognise them again with certainty whenever you see them,” urged Pedro. “Note their shape, their exact colour; note their peculiar odour; and, above all, note their taste; for there are other plants, quite worthless for the purpose, closely resembling this one; but the taste will at once tell you when you have found the right one.”
George eagerly took a quantity of the leaves in his hand, and carefully examined them, noting that, though they varied in size, they were all of exactly the same shape and hue; then he held them to his nostrils and inhaled their odour until he thought he had become fully acquainted with it. And finally he put one in his mouth, and masticated it. The juice had a very peculiar flavour indeed, so peculiar that he felt sure he should never forget it.
“And how do you use these leaves?” asked George.
“If,” answered Pedro, “you have an opportunity to gather them only a few hours before you wish to use them, so that they are perfectly fresh, all that you have to do is to bruise and crush them, so that their juice shall be free to escape, and then rub them well all over your feet. This imparts the odour of the plant to the skin, and so ‘hides the scent’ that the dogs are quite unable to follow it. But if the leaves have been gathered so long that they have become dry, you must put them in water to soak until they become soft once more; then first wash your feet in the water, and afterwards rub them thoroughly with the leaves. Only, in the latter case, you will require a much larger quantity of leaves.”
“Thanks, Pedro, I shall remember that,” answered George. “One more question, and I have done. Where is this plant to be found?”
“Ah! now you have given me a puzzle,” exclaimed the black. “The plant is very scarce, and is growing daily more so, for the reason that the slave-owners carefully root it up and destroy it wherever they find it. They are fully acquainted with its peculiar properties, they know that it has freed many a persecuted slave from the bondage of a cruel and tyrannical master, and that, if allowed to flourish, it would free many more; so it is carefully sought out, and ruthlessly dug up when found. Notwithstanding which, a plant is to be found here and there by diligently searching after it. It grows generally in wet or marshy ground, and in such spots you will have to seek for it, if ever you need it. Now, I must go; it is close upon the time for the head overseer to go his rounds, and I want him to see me in my own cabin. As soon as he is once more fairly out of the way I shall be off. Good-night—and good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” answered George, grasping the negro’s proffered hand; “good-bye, and thank you for your valuable secret. I heartily wish you good luck; and if they get up a hunt, and take me to help, I’ll do what I can to throw them off the scent. Which way do you go?”
“You had better know nothing about that,” answered Pedro cautiously. “All I ask is, that if you catch sight of me, or observe any sign of my having passed, you will simply keep quiet about it. And now, once more, good-bye.”
Ten minutes later the head overseer, going his rounds, on looking into Pedro’s cabin, found that individual apparently fast asleep on the floor, with his back against the wall, and such an utterly fagged, worn-out look pervading his entire personality that the man was almost betrayed into a momentary feeling of pity for “the poor boy.”
His surprise was therefore proportionally great when, on the following morning, it became apparent that Pedro had succeeded, in spite of the dogs, in making good his escape from the estate.
A slave-hunt was at once organised, and about nine o’clock, as George was hard at work in the fields, he saw the hunters—some half a dozen in number, mounted, and accompanied each by a bloodhound—pass down the main road through the estate and out on to the open ground beyond. Here the party divided, half going in one direction, and half in the other, to encircle the estate, and endeavour to pick up the trail. They were absent the whole day, but when they returned at about midnight, the unfortunate Pedro was with them, handcuffed, and secured by a rope round his neck to the saddle of one of the horsemen. It afterwards transpired that he had been perfectly successful, not only in evading the dogs during his actual escape from the estate, but also in “hiding the scent” from them; and his capture was due to the unfortunate circumstance of his having been met by a friend of his master’s who, an hour afterwards, encountered the party in pursuit of him, and so put them upon his track. Next morning the unhappy wretch was “made an example of,” by being flogged so severely in the presence of all the other slaves belonging to the plantation that at first it seemed doubtful whether he would ever recover from the effects of it; and, though he did eventually, it was nearly three months before he was again fit for work.
This incident of Pedro’s escape and its unfortunate failure was naturally the chief topic of conversation among the slaves for a long time afterwards, and George heard so much of the many difficulties attending such attempts, that he often felt upon the very brink of despair. The obstacles were so great as to be almost insurmountable when those who made the attempt were strong, healthy, thoroughly inured to fatigue, and had all their faculties about them; but when it came to not only making good one’s own escape, but also that of a feeble and weakly companion of unsettled reason, the task seemed so utterly hopeless, so thoroughly impracticable, that it appeared almost worse than madness to dream of undertaking it.
Yet, in spite of all this, and notwithstanding the terrible example which had been made of the unhappy Pedro, George clung tenaciously to the idea, and never let slip an opportunity to do anything which in ever so slight a degree might contribute to his success when the time should come for the effort to be made. As time passed on, and his knowledge of the Spanish language became perfected, his uniform industry and good conduct procured him many little indulgences; such as a few hours of release from field-labour now and then, in order that he might instead be despatched, duly provided with a “pass,” on some errand or message, either to a neighbouring plantation or to Havana itself. These little journeys not only afforded him an opportunity—of which he made the most—of studying the physical geography of the island, but also of hunting for the precious plant by means of which he hoped to successfully hide his trail; and in this latter quest he was so far fortunate that he found at different times as many as eight of them, five of which he successfully transplanted to a favourable spot on the estate itself in such an out-of-the-way locality that he fervently hoped they would escape discovery.
The next task which he set himself—and Tom—was that of propitiating and making friends with the dogs which nightly guarded the estate; but in this they were wholly unsuccessful; the creatures had been too well trained, and they absolutely refused all overtures from men who wore the detested garb of slavery. The circumstance, however, that they were of white instead of negro blood was a point in our adventurers’ favour, and George accidentally made the discovery that, probably in consequence of this circumstance, when he was able by any means to conceal the uniform he usually wore, the hounds, though still suspicious, were puzzled and undecided how to behave towards him.
In the meantime, whilst steadily cultivating the favour of the overseers by his unvarying industry and good conduct, he as sedulously cultivated the good-will and friendship of his fellow-slaves; and by the exercise of great tact and circumspection he gradually won from them, without exciting their slightest suspicion, such a mass of valuable information as quite decided him, when the time should come, to make his way inland and to the southward, rather than to the northward, the latter route, though that which would soonest enable him to reach the coast, being chiefly, in consequence of that circumstance, by far the most perilous one.
The next matter requiring attention, was the acquisition of arms of some description, with which the party could defend themselves in the event of their being pursued and overtaken. These, by a lucky chance, he was at length enabled to procure, in the shape of three cane-knives, weapons closely resembling a cutlass as regards the length and curve of the blade, but provided merely with a wooden handle, instead of the metal guard usually fitted to the latter weapon. The same lucky chance which enabled him to secure these cane-knives—namely, the finding of a gold five-dollar piece on the road during one of his excursions into Havana—also supplied him with the means of purchasing three coarse canvas jackets, such as were commonly worn by the Cuban coasting seamen at that time, and with these he hoped to sufficiently disguise himself and his companions to avoid any inconvenient questioning on the road, when the time for the great attempt should arrive.
The auspicious moment arrived, as such moments frequently do, quite unexpectedly, and it came about in the following manner.
When George and his comrades had been in slavery a trifle over a year, a message reached the estate to the effect that a ship had that day arrived from Europe, in the cargo of which there were certain household articles that had been ordered expressly for the use of the planter’s wife, and that, as they happened to be stowed on the top, and the ship had already begun to discharge, it was desirable that they should be sent for at once, in order that they might escape damage. This message reached the estate quite late in the evening, in fact it was within half an hour of the time for knocking off work for the night; but so impatient was the lady to see her new possessions, that she insisted upon their being sent for at once, and George, as the most trustworthy slave on the plantation, was ordered to take the mule-waggon and a couple of companions, and proceed into town forthwith to fetch them, so that they might be at the house and all ready for unloading by the first thing next morning. He was instructed that, as it would probably be very late, or rather, early next morning, before he returned, he was to drive the waggon down to the engine-house, and place it under the shed there for the remainder of the night, instead of driving up to the house, so that he might not disturb the occupants by the noise of his arrival.
Leicester at once saw that this errand would afford him probably the best opportunity he would ever have for the attempted escape; he therefore mentioned to the overseer that he thought Tom and Walford would be the most handy men he could take with him as helpers, and at once went off in an unconcerned manner, but with a well-assumed air of imperfectly concealed dissatisfaction at the prospect of his night journey, to harness up the mules. On his way to the stables he sought out Walford and the lad Tom, bidding them both be ready to go with him, and imparting to the latter his determination to take advantage of this opportunity to attempt their joint escape.
This done, he hurried away to the spot where he had concealed his treasured plants, and arrived there, only to find that they were gone. Whether they had been discovered and destroyed by the overseers, or had been found and appropriated by some fellow-slave acquainted with their valuable properties, it was impossible to tell; the one indisputable fact was that the plants had vanished.
This was a most unfortunate circumstance, but George would not allow it to dishearten him; the fugitives would have several hours’ start before the pursuit would commence, and then there was always the possibility that other specimens of the plant might be found.
Thinking thus, he slowly wended his way to the stable, where he harnessed up the mules, threw into the waggon a quantity of grass and cane-leaves, together with a canvas cover and rope, supposed to be required for packing and protecting the articles, and then drove to the hut, where Tom and Walford awaited him. The former, a very shrewd and intelligent young fellow, had immediately, upon being apprised by George of his intention, hurried off to prepare “supper,” recognising the great importance of a good substantial meal before starting, especially in view of the uncertainty as to when they would be able to secure another; and when George reached the hut, this meal was just ready.
The trio partook of this, their last meal in slavery, as they hoped, with great deliberation, George being most anxious not to start until darkness should so far have settled down upon the scene as to allow of his smuggling the cane-knives and canvas jackets in under the grass in the waggon without detection.
This was at length successfully managed, and, first taking a careful look all round the hut, to see that they were leaving nothing behind them which might possibly prove useful, they clambered into the cart, and drove slowly off.
Night had by this time fairly set in; the stars were just beginning to peep out from the deepening blue of the cloudless vault above them, and the moon, in her first quarter, and hanging almost in the zenith, was already flooding the scene with her soft silvery radiance. It promised to be a magnificent night for their enterprise, though excessively close and hot; and as they turned into the main road leading into Havana, and left the estate fairly behind them, George and the lad Tom felt their spirits rising and their pulses bounding with joyous anticipation of a speedy return to freedom.
Whilst harnessing the mules, Leicester had rapidly turned over in his mind the pros and cons of the situation, and had come to the conclusion that it would be necessary in the first instance to proceed some three or four miles on the road toward Havana. This necessity arose from the circumstance that the planter’s house stood upon a slight eminence commanding a perfect view of the road for that distance, and as Leicester could not possibly be sure that some one might not be idly watching, from the verandah, the progress of the waggon as long as it remained in view, he deemed it only common prudence to keep to the road until he had passed completely out of the range of any such chance watchers. This done, he intended to turn sharp off and make the best of his way southward, utilising the waggon and mules for as great a distance as possible, and then abandoning them and pressing forward on foot. The distance which they would have to travel was not very great, the island being, according to such information as had been available to him, only some twelve and a half Spanish leagues, or about thirty English miles wide at that part. Thus, if they were fortunate in their choice of a route, so as to be able to use the waggon for the whole distance, they might succeed in reaching the southern shore of the island before their escape was so much as suspected.
George explained all this to Tom as the mules trotted cheerily along the road, and by the time that the plan of escape had been fully elucidated, they had reached a point where they might with perfect safety branch off and make their way to the southward. This they did at once, branching square off to the westward in the first instance, until they were about a mile distant from the road, and completely hidden by the bush from the observation of any one upon it, and then turning in a southerly direction. A dense belt of forest then lay before them, at a distance of some six miles, with a lofty hill-top rising behind it, and toward this latter object George now headed the mules as straight as the scattered clumps of bush would permit.
The soil was very light and sandy, but it was covered with a thick growth of grass, which prevented the mules’ feet or the waggon-wheels from sinking, so that the travelling was nearly, if not quite as rapid as it had been along the road. A sharp lookout was maintained for signs indicative of their approach to the neighbourhood of plantations, and two or three bridle-paths, evidently leading to such, were crossed; but at length they reached the welcome skirts of the forest without having had the least cause to suppose that they had been observed.
In the meantime, however, a heavy bank of thundercloud had been observed rapidly gathering on the southern horizon, and the runaways had scarcely plunged a mile into the forest before the heavens were obscured, and it at once became so pitch-dark that it was utterly impossible for them to proceed. The mules were consequently pulled up, and the three adventurers made what few preparations were possible for their protection from the coming storm.
Soon the low threatening rumble of the thunder was heard, and then, as it rapidly increased in volume of sound, bright flashes of light were seen blazing out beyond the interweaving branches of the trees. The storm, as in all tropical countries, quickly gathered force and intensity, and very soon it was raging in all its fury above and around them. The loud reverberating roll of the thunder was incessant, the lightning flashed with ever-increasing rapidity, and at last the entire atmosphere seemed to be in one continued tremulous glare of unearthly light.
The mules started and quivered, as the lightning-flashes grew more rapid and intense; and finally they became so terrified that George had as much as he could do to restrain them from bolting, and so dashing themselves, the waggon, and its occupants to pieces against the trees.
The storm was at its fiercest when suddenly the party found themselves enveloped in a blinding blaze of greenish-blue light; simultaneously there came a terrific rattling crash, as though the universe had burst asunder; the occupants of the waggon—blinded, and deafened by the dazzling brilliancy of the flash and the tremendous report which accompanied it—felt themselves hurled violently to the earth, and then followed oblivion.