Such has been the extraordinary course of events in France and Europe, within
the last two months, that the more deliberately we survey the scene which has
been spread out before us, and the more rigidly we scrutinise the conduct of its
actors, the more confident does our conviction become that the glorious work
which has been so well begun cannot possibly fail of complete accomplishment;
that the age of tyrants and slavery is rapidly drawing to a close; and that the
happy period to be signalised by the universal emancipation of man from the
fetters of civil oppression, and the recognition in all countries of the great prin-
ciples of popular sovereignty, equality, and brotherhood,, at this moment
visibly commencing.
Will any one be surprised, after this, that seventy-seven of
the most intelligent young slaves, male and female, in Wash-
ington city, honestly taking Mr. Foote and his brother
senators at their word, and believing that the age of tyrants
and slavery was drawing to a close, banded together, and
made an effort to obtain their part in this reign of universal
brotherhood?
The schooner “Pearl” was lying in the harbour, and Cap-
tain Drayton was found to have the heart of a man. Perhaps
he, too, had listened to the addresses on Pennsylvania Avenue,
and thought in the innocence of his heart, that a man who
really did something to promote universal emancipation, was
no worse than the men who only made speeches about it.
At any rate, Drayton was persuaded to allow these seventy-
seven slaves to secrete themselves in the hold of his vessel, and
among them were six children of Paul and Milly Edmondson.
The incidents of the rest of the narrative will now be given as
obtained from Mary and Emily Edmondson, by the lady in
whose family they have been placed by the writer for an edu-
cation.
Some few preliminaries may be necessary in order to under-
stand the account.
A respectable coloured man, by the name of Daniel Bell, who
had purchased his own freedom, resided in the city of Washing-
ton. His wife, with her eight children, were set free by her
master, when on his death-bed. The heirs endeavoured to break
the will, on the ground that he was not of sound mind at the
time of its preparation. The magistrate, however, before whom
it was executed, by his own personal knowledge of the compe-
tence of the man at the time, was enabled to defeat their purpose;
the family, therefore, lived as free for some years. On the death
of this magistrate, the heirs again brought the case into Court,
and as it seemed likely to be decided against the family, they
resolved to secure their legal rights by flight, and engaged pas-
sage on board the vessel of Captain Drayton. Many of their
associates and friends, stirred up, perhaps, by the recent demon-
strations in favour of liberty, begged leave to accompany them
in their flight. The seeds of the cotton-wood were flying
everywhere, and springing up in all hearts; so that, on the
eventful evening of the 15th of April, 1848, not less than
seventy-seven men, women, and children, with beating hearts
and anxious secrecy, stowed themselves away in the hold of the
little schooner, and Captain Drayton was so wicked that he
could not, for the life of him, say “Nay” to one of them.
Richard Edmondson had long sought to buy his liberty; had
toiled for it early and late; but the price set upon him was so
high that he despaired of ever earning it. On this evening he
and his three brothers thought, as the reign of universal brother-
hood had begun, and the reign of tyrants and slavery come to
an end, that they would take to themselves and their sisters that
sacred gift of liberty, which all Washington had been informed,
two evenings before, it was the peculiar province of America to
give to all nations. Their two sisters, aged sixteen and four-
teen, were hired out in families in the city. On this evening
Samuel Edmondson called at the house where Emily lived, and
told her of the projected plan.
“But what will mother think?” said Emily.
“Don't stop to think of her; she would rather we'd be free
“Well, then, if Mary will go, I will.”
The girls give as a reason for wishing to escape, that though
they had never suffered hardships or been treated unkindly, yet
they knew they were liable at any time to be sold into rigorous
bondage, and separated far from all they loved.
They then all went on board the “Pearl,” which was lying a
little way off from the place where vessels usually anchor. There
they found a company of slaves, seventy-seven in number.
At twelve o'clock at night the silent wings of the little schooner
were spread, and with her weight of fear and mystery she glided
out into the stream. A fresh breeze sprang up, and by eleven
o'clock next night they had sailed two hundred miles from
Washington, and began to think that liberty was gained. They
anchored in a place called Cornfield Harbour, intending to
wait for daylight. All laid down to sleep in peaceful security,
lulled by the gentle rock of the vessel and the rippling of the
waters.
But at two o'clock at night they were roused by terrible noises
on deck, scuffling, screaming, swearing, and groaning. A steamer
had pursued and overtaken them, and the little schooner was
boarded by an infuriated set of armed men. In a moment, the
captain, mate, and all the crew, were seized and bound, amid
oaths and dreadful threats. As they, swearing and yelling, tore
open the hatches on the defenceless prisoners below, Richard
Edmondson stepped forward, and in a calm voice said to them,
“Gentlemen, do yourselves no harm, for we are all here.” With
this exception, all was still among the slaves as despair could
make it; not a word was spoken in the whole company. The
men were all bound and placed on board the steamer; the
woman were left on board the schooner, to be towed after.
The explanation of their capture was this:--In the morning
after they had sailed, many families in Washington found their
slaves missing, and the event created as great an excitement as
the emancipation of France had, two days before. At that time
they had listened in the most complacent manner to the an-
nouncement that the reign of slavery was near its close, because
they had not the slightest idea that the language meant any-
thing; and they were utterly confounded by this practical
application of it. More than a hundred men, mounted upon
horses, determined to push out into the country, in pursuit of
these new disciples of the doctrine of universal emancipation.
Here a coloured man, by the name of Judson Diggs, betrayed
the whole plot. He had been provoked, because, after having
taken a poor woman, with her luggage, down to the boat, she
was unable to pay the twenty-five cents that he demanded. So
he told these admirers of universal brotherhood that they need
not ride into the country, as their slaves had sailed down the
river, and were far enough off by this time. A steamer was
immediately manned by two hundred armed men, and away they
went in pursuit.
When the cortege arrived with the captured slaves, there was
a most furious excitement in the city. The men were driven
through the streets bound with ropes, two and two. Showers
of taunts and jeers rained upon them from all sides. One man
asked one of the girls if she “didn't feel pretty to be caught
running away,” and another asked her “if she wasn't sorry.”
She answered, “No, if it was to do again to-morrow, she would
do the same.” The man turned to a bystander and said--“Han't
she got good spunk?”
But the most vehement excitement was against Drayton and
Sayres, the captain and mate of the vessel. Ruffians armed with
dirk-knives and pistols crowded around them, with the most
horrid threats. One of them struck so near Drayton as to cut
his ear, which Emily noticed as bleeding. Meanwhile there
mingled in the crowd multitudes of the relatives of the captives,
who, looking on them as so many doomed victims, bewildered
and lamented them. A brother-in-law of the Edmondsons was
so overcome when he saw them that he fainted away and fell
down in the street, and was carried home insensible. The sorrow-
ful news. spread to the cottage of Paul and Milly Edmondson;
and knowing that all their children were now probably doomed
to the Southern market, they gave themselves up to sorrow.
“Oh, what a day that was!” said the old mother, when describ-
ing that scene to the writer. “Never a morsel of anything could
I put into my mouth. Paul and me, we fasted and prayed before
the Lord, night and day, for our poor children!”
The whole public sentiment of the community was roused to
the most intense indignation. It was repeated from mouth to
mouth that they had been kindly treated and never abused;
and what could have induced them to try to get their liberty?
All that Mr. Stanton had said of the insensible influence of
American institutions, and all his pretty similes about the cotton-
wood seeds, seemed entirely to have escaped the memory of the
community, and they could see nothing but the most unheard-of
depravity in the attempt of these people to secure freedom. It
was strenuously advised by many that their owners should not
forgive them--that no mercy should be shown; but that they
should be thrown into the hands of the traders, forthwith, for
the Southern market--that Siberia of the irresponsible despots
of America.
When all the prisoners were lodged in jail, the owners came
to make oath to their property, and the property also was re-
quired to make oath to their owners. Among them came the
married sisters of Mary and Emily, but were not allowed to
enter the prison. The girls looked through the iron grates of
the third-storey windows, and saw their sisters standing below in
the yard weeping.
The guardian of the Edmondsons, who acted in the place of
the real owner, apparently touched with their sorrow, promised
their family and friends, who were anxious to purchase them, if
possible, that they should have an opportunity the next
morning. Perhaps he intended at the time to give them one;
but, as Bruin and Hill, the keepers of the large slave warehouse
in Alexandria, offered him four thousand five hundred dollars
for the six children, they were irrevocably sold before the next
morning. Bruin would listen to no terms which any of their
friends could propose. The lady with whom Mary had lived
offered a thousand dollars for her, but Bruin refused, saying he
could get double that sum in the New Orleans market. He
said he had had his eye upon the family for twelve years, and
had the promise of them should they ever be sold.
While the girls remained in the prison they had no beds nor
chairs, and only one blanket each, though the nights were
chilly; but understanding that the rooms below, where their
brothers were confined, were still colder, and that no blankets
were given them, they sent their own down to them. In the
morning they were allowed to go down into the yard for a few
moments; and then they used to run to the window of their
brothers' room, to bid them good morning, and kiss them
through the grate.
At ten o'clock, Thursday night, the brothers were handcuffed,
and, with their sisters, taken into carriages by their new owners,
driven to Alexandria, and put into a prison called a Georgia
Pen. The girls were put into a large room alone, in total dark-
ness, without bed or blanket, where they spent the night in
sobs and tears, in utter ignorance of their brothers' fate. At
eight o'clock in the morning they were called to breakfast,
when, to their great comfort, they found their four brothers all
in the same prison.
They remained here about four weeks, being usually per-
mitted by day to stay below with their brothers, and at night
to return to their own rooms. Their brothers had great
anxieties about them, fearing they would be sold South.
Samuel, in particular, felt very sadly, as he had been the prin-
cipal actor in getting them away. He often said he would
gladly die for them, if that would save them from the fate he
feared. He used to weep a great deal, though he endeavoured
to restrain his tears in their presence.
While in the slave-prison they were required to wash for
thirteen men, though their brothers performed a great share of
the labour. Before they left, their size and height were
measured by their owners. At length they were again taken
out, the brothers handcuffed, and all put on board a steamboat,
where were about forty slaves, mostly men, and taken to
Baltimore. The voyage occupied one day and a night. When
arrived in Baltimore, they were thrown into a slave-pen kept by
a partner of Bruin and Hill. He was a man of coarse habits,
constantly using the most profane language, and grossly obscene
and insulting in his remarks to women. Here they were for-
bidden to pray together, as they had previously been accustomed
to do. But, by rising very early in the morning, they secured
to themselves a little interval which they could employ, unin-
terrupted, in this manner. They, with four or five other women
in the prison, used to meet together before daybreak to spread
their sorrows before the Refuge of the afflicted; and in these
prayers the hard-hearted slave-dealer was daily remembered.
The brothers of Mary and Emily were very gentle and tender in
their treatment of their sisters, which had an influence upon
other men in their company.
At this place they became acquainted with Aunt Rachel, a
most godly woman, about middle age, who had been sold into
the prison away from her husband. The
poor husband used
often to come to the prison and beg the trader to sell her to his owners, who he thought were willing to purchase her, if the price
was not too high. But he was driven off with brutal threats
and curses. They remained in Baltimore about three weeks.
The friends in Washington, though hitherto unsuccessful in
their efforts to redeem the family, were still exerting themselves
in their behalf; and one evening a message was received from
them by telegraph, stating that a person would arrive in the
morning train of cars prepared to bargain for the family, and that
a part of the money was now ready. But the trader was in-
exorable; and in the morning, an hour before the cars were to
arrive, they were all put on board the brig “Union,” ready to sail
for New Orleans. The messenger came, and brought nine
hundred dollars in money, the gift of a grandson of John Jacob
Astor. This was finally appropriated to the ransom of Richard
Edmondson, as his wife and children were said to be suffering
in Washington; and the trader would not sell the girls to them
upon any consideration, nor would he even suffer Richard to be
brought back from the brig, which had not yet sailed. The
bargain was, however made, and the money deposited in Bal-
timore.
On this brig the eleven women were put in one small apart-
ment, and the thirty or forty men in an adjoining one. Emily
was very sea-sick most of the time, and her brothers feared she
would die. They used to come and carry her out on deck and
back again, buy little comforts for their sisters, and take all
possible care of them.
Frequently head-winds blew them back, so that they made
very slow progress; and in their prayer-meetings, which they
held every night, they used to pray that head-winds might blow
them to New York; and one of the sailors declared that if they
could get within one hundred miles of New York, and the slaves
would stand by him, he would make way with the captain, and
pilot them into New York himself.
When they arrived near Key West, they hoisted a signal for
a pilot, the captain being aware of the dangers of the place,
and yet not knowing how to avoid them. As the pilot-boat
approached, the slaves were all fastened below, and a heavy
canvas thrown over the grated hatchway door, which entirely