“Yo’ not forget me?”
And Frederick promised. “I will not forget.”
The following evening when Nada disappeared down the alley, Frederick was with her.
Events now moved rapidly. The entire membership of the East Baltimore Mental Improvement Society was concerned with Frederick. They all knew what he was trying to do. The caulkers were on the alert for any extra jobs, older men advised, and Anna Murray’s eyes began to glow softly. Sometimes Frederick entered into the discussions at the meeting now, but usually he sat silent, listening. Afterward he walked home with Anna, avoiding the lighted streets. And he poured into her willing ear his whole mad scheme. The stringent cordon thrown around Baltimore to prevent slaves from escaping demanded a bold plan. Frederick knew that he had to get well away or he would surely be captured, and he knew that a second failure would be fatal.
The railroad from Baltimore to Philadelphia was under such rigid regulations that even free colored travelers were practically excluded. They had to carry free papers on their persons—papers describing the name, age, color, height and form of the traveler, especially any scars or other marks he had. Negroes were measured and carefully examined before they could enter the cars, and they could only go in the daytime. The steamboats had similar rules. British seamen of color were forbidden to land at Southern ports. An American seaman of African descent was required to have always on him a “sailor’s protection,” describing the bearer and certifying to the fact that he was a free American sailor.
One night Frederick was introduced to a sailor who appeared to be well known to the group. The older ones, standing round, studied the two young men talking together. Then Daddy Ben said briefly, “It will do!”
After that Frederick spent every moment away from his work in the sailor’s company. They leaned over bars in crowded saloons off Lower Broadway and swapped talk with old salts who had not yet recovered their land legs. They swore at the fresh young landlubber, but his friend, laughing heartily, warded off their blows.
On the last Sunday in August, as was his custom, Frederick reported with his three dollars.
“I’m taking Mrs. Auld to the country over next Sunday,” Mr. Auld said. “This awful heat is bad for her. Come in next Monday.”