“I goes up stairs and gathers up my clothes, and the women folks comes up tu, and while we was there preparin’ my escape, old master and the sheriff comes in below! and he says to Munson, who lay on the bed, ‘I’m a goin’ to sarch your house for my nigger;’ and Munson rises up and says, ‘what the devil do you mean? away with you out of my house. I knows nothin’ about your nigger, nor am I your nigger’s keeper—besides, ‘afore you sarch my house, you’ve got to bring a legal sarch-warrant, and now show it or out of my house, or you’ll catch my trotters into your starn, quick tu.’
“Well, I darn’t listen to hear any thing more, but all a tremblin’, says I to the women, ‘what in the name of distraction shall I do?’
“Mrs. Munson says, ‘I’ll go down and swing round the well-sweep, and you jump on, and down head-foremost.’ I flings out my bundle, and up comes the well-sweep, and I hopped on, and down I went head foremost, jist like a cat, and put out for the river; and I found Mrs. Munson there with my clothes, for she’d took ’em as soon as she could, and put out with ’em for the river. ‘And now Peter,’ says she ‘do you make the best of your way down to Albany, and travel till you git there, and don’t you git catched; and so I off, arter thankin’ Mrs. Munson, and I wanted to thank Mr. Munson tu, for his management, but I couldn’t spend the time, and I moved some tu; and I got down to Albany by one o’clock at night, and there lay a sloop right agin’ the wharf, alongside the old stage tavern; and as I was a wanderin’ along by it, there seemed to be a colored man standin’ on deck, ’bout fifty years old, and his head was most as white as flax, and says he as he hails me, ‘where you travellin’ tu, my son?’ I says, ‘I’m bound for New York,’ and I out with my old lie agin ’bout my mother. You see that lie was like some minister’s sarmints, that goes round the country and preaches the same old sarmint till it’s threadbare—but it sarved my turn. ‘Come aboard my son, and take some refreshments;’ and so I goes down into the cabin, and I feels kind’a guilty, sorry, and hungry, and my feet was sore, for I’d walked bare-foot from Snackady; and if you did but know it, it was a dreadful sandy road, but I wanted no shoes ’bout me that night. Well, pretty soon my meal was ready, and I had a good cup of coffee, and ham, and eggs, and arter that, says he, ‘now lay down in my berth;’ and I laid down, and in two minutes I got fast to sleep, and the first I knew old master had me by the nape of the neck, and called for some one to help him, and he had a big chain, and he begins to bind me and I sings out, ‘murder,’ as loud as I could scream, and the old gentleman comes to the berth, and says, ‘what’s the matter my son?’ and I woke up, and ’twas a dream, and I was so weak I couldn’t hardly speak, and I was cryin’ and my shirt was as wet as a drownded rat; and the old man says, ‘why, what’s the matter, Peter? you’re as white as a sheet? ‘I says, ‘nothin’ only a dream;’ and says he, ‘try to git some sleep my son, nobody shan’t hurt you.’ And so I catches kind’a cat-naps, and then the old man would chase me, and I run into the woods; and three or four men was arter me on white horses, and I run into a muddy slough, and jumped from bog to bog, and slump into my knees in the mud, and I’d worry and worry to git through, and at last I did; and then I had to cross a river to git out of their way, and I swum across it, and it was a pure crystal stream, and I could see gold stones and little fish on the bottom. Well, I got to the bank and sets down, and they couldn’t git to me, and I had a good quiet sleep. Finally, the old man comes to me, and says, ‘come, my son, git up and eat some breakfast. And I up, and the sun was an hour high, and more tu. I washes me, and we had some stewed eels and coffee; and we eat alone, for all the hands and captain was a spendin’ the night among their friends ashore. And the old man begins to question me out whether I warn’t a run-away, and I rother denied it in the first place; and he says, ‘you needn’t be afeard of me. You’re a run-away, and if you’ll tell me your story, I’ll help you.’ So I up and told him my whole story, and he says, ‘I know’d you was a run-away when you come aboard last night, for I was once a slave myself, and now arter breakfast you go with me, and I’ll show you a good safe place to go and be a cook.’
“So we walked along on the dock, and says he, ‘there comes the Samson, Captain John Truesdell, I guess he wants you, for I understood his cook left him in Troy.’
“So the Samson rounded up nigh our’n, and the captain jumps ashore, and says he, ‘boy do you want a berth?’ and I touches my hat, and says, ‘yis, Sir.’ And he says, ‘can you roast, bake, and bile, &c.?’ I says, ‘I guess so.’ ‘Can you reef a line of veal, and cook a tater?’ ‘Yis, Sir, all that.’ ‘Well, you are jist the boy I want; ‘what do you ask a month?’ I says, ‘I don’t know:’ but I’d a gone with him if he hadn’t agin me a skinned sixpence a month. Well, he looks at me, and slaps me on the shoulder, and says he, ‘you look like a square-built clever feller,—I’ll give you eight dollars a month.’
“This colored man looks at me and shakes his head, and holds up all hands, and fingers, and thumbs, and that’s ten you know. So I axed him ten dollars a month. And says he, ‘I’ll give it;’ and my heart jumps up into my mouth. And he claps his hand into his pocket, and took out three dollars, and says he, ‘now go up to the market and git two quarters veal, and six shillin’ loaves of bread, and here’s the market basket.’ Well, I thought it kind’a strange that he should trust me, cause I was a stranger; but I found out arter this, a followin’ the seas, that it was the natur’ of sailors to be trusty. Well, I off to the market, and I goes up State-street and looked across on ‘tother side, and who should I see but Master and the Sheriff, a comin’ down; so I pulls my tarpaulin hat over my eyes, for I’d got all rigged out with a sailor suit on the Mohawk, and I spurs up, and the grass didn’t grow under my feet any nother. I does my business, and hastens back as fast as possible, and got aboard, and the captain made loose, and bore away into the wind, and made all fast; and the sails filled, and down the river we went like a bird. A stiff breeze aft, and I was on deck, for I wanted to see, and the captain comes along and says, ‘boy, you’d better below,’ and down I went. Well, we run under that breeze down to the overslaugh, and got aground, and then my joy was turned into sorrow. The captain says to me, ‘boy, you keep ship while I and the hands go back and git a lighter, or we shan’t git off in a week; and he takes all hands into the jolly boat and starts for the city again. Arter they’d gone I wanders up and down in the ship, and cried, and thought this runnin’ aground was all done a purpose to catch me; and I goes down into the cabin and ties all my clothes up in a snug bundle, and goes into the aft cabin, and opens the larboard window, and made up my mind that if I see any body come that looked suspicious, I’d take to the water.
Well, afore long, I see the jolly boat a comin’ down the river, and every time the oars struck she almost riz out of the water. Three men on a side and the captain sot steerin’ and as she draws nigher and nigher I draws myself into a smaller compass, for I was afeard master was aboard that boat. Well, she comes alongside, but thanks to God no master in that boat.
“The captain comes on deck and says with a smile, ‘Peter, you may git dinner now.[[12]] So I goes and gits a good dinner, for I understood cookin’ pretty well, and they eats, and I tu, and then I clears off the table, and washes the dishes, and sweeps the cabin, and goes on deck. And sees a lighter comin’ down the river, and she rounded up and come alongside, and we made fast, and up hatches and took out the wheat, and worked till evenin’, and then she swung off; and by mornin’ we’d got all the freight aboard, and we discharged the lighter and highted all sail, and the wind was strong aft, and we lowered sail no more till we landed in New York, and that was the next day at evenin’.
[12]. What a cheerful air hangs around the path of liberty! I was once reading this page to a warm-hearted and benevolent Abolitionist, and when I came to this speech of the captain, he burst into tears as he exclaimed, “Oh, what a change in that boy’s existence! It seems to me that such kindness must almost have broken his heart. Oh! a man must have a bad heart not to desire to see every yoke broken, and all the oppressed go free.”
“Well, the second night arter this, the captain come down into the cabin, and says he, ‘Peter I’ve got a story for you.’ ‘Well,’ says I, ‘I wants to hear it, Sir.’ ‘Well last night there was a small man from Cayuga county, by the name of Gideon Morehouse ☜ come aboard my sloop, and says, “you’ve got my nigger concealed aboard your ship, and I’ve got authority to sarch your vessel;” and he sarched my vessel and every body and every thing in it, and by good luck you was ashore, or he’d a had you; for you must be the boy by description.’