Chapter: The search for me was kept up with more perseverence than I had
anticipated. I began to think that escape was impossible. I was in great
anxiety lest I should implicate the friend who harbored me. I knew the
consequences would be frightful; and much as I dreaded being caught, even
that seemed better than causing an innocent person to suffer for kindness
to me. A week had passed in terrible suspense, when my pursuers came into
such close vicinity that I concluded they had tracked me to my
hiding-place. I flew out of the house, and concealed myself in a thicket of
bushes. There I remained in an agony of fear for two hours. Suddenly, a
reptile of some kind seized my leg. In my fright, I struck a blow which
loosened its hold, but I could not tell whether I had killed it; it was so
dark, I could not see what it was; I only knew it was something cold and
slimy. The pain I felt soon indicated that the bite was poisonous. I was
compelled to leave my place of concealment, and I groped my way back into
the house. The pain had become intense, and my friend was startled by my
look of anguish. I asked her to prepare a poultice of warm ashes and
vinegar, and I applied it to my leg, which was already much swollen. The
application gave me some relief, but the swelling did not abate. The dread
of being disabled was greater than the physical pain I endured. My friend
asked an old woman, who doctored among the slaves, what was good for the
bite of a snake or a lizard. She told her to steep a dozen coppers in
vinegar, over night, and apply the cankered vinegar to the inflamed
part.[1]

[Footnote 1: The poison of a snake is a powerful acid, and is counteracted
by powerful alkalies, such as potash, ammonia, &c. The Indians are
accustomed to apply wet ashes, or plunge the limb into strong lie. White
men, employed to lay out railroads in snaky places, often carry ammonia
with them as an antidote.--EDITOR.]

I had succeeded in cautiously conveying some messages to my relatives. They
were harshly threatened, and despairing of my having a chance to escape,
they advised me to return to my master, ask his forgiveness, and let him
make an example of me. But such counsel had no influence with me. When I
started upon this hazardous undertaking, I had resolved that, come what
would, there should be no turning back. "Give me liberty, or give me
death," was my motto. When my friend contrived to make known to my
relatives the painful situation I had been in for twenty-four hours, they
said no more about my going back to my master. Something must be done, and
that speedily; but where to return for help, they knew not. God in his
mercy raised up "a friend in need."

Among the ladies who were acquainted with my grandmother, was one who had
known her from childhood, and always been very friendly to her. She had
also known my mother and her children, and felt interested for them. At
this crisis of affairs she called to see my grandmother, as she not
unfrequently did. She observed the sad and troubled expression of her face,
and asked if she knew where Linda was, and whether she was safe. My
grandmother shook her head, without answering. "Come, Aunt Martha,"
said the kind lady, "tell me all about it. Perhaps I can do something
to help you." The husband of this lady held many slaves, and bought and
sold slaves. She also held a number in her own name; but she treated
them kindly, and would never allow any of them to be sold. She was
unlike the majority of slaveholders' wives. My grandmother looked
earnestly at her. Something in the expression of her face said
"Trust me!" and she did trust her. She listened attentively to
the details of my story, and sat thinking for a while. At last she said,
"Aunt Martha, I pity you both. If you think there is any chance of Linda's
getting to the Free States, I will conceal her for a time. But first you
must solemnly promise that my name shall never be mentioned. If such a
thing should become known, it would ruin me and my family. No one in my
house must know of it, except the cook. She is so faithful that I would
trust my own life with her; and I know she likes Linda. It is a great risk;
but I trust no harm will come of it. Get word to Linda to be ready as soon
as it is dark, before the patrols are out. I will send the housemaids on
errands, and Betty shall go to meet Linda." The place where we were to meet
was designated and agreed upon. My grandmother was unable to thank the lady
for this noble deed; overcome by her emotions, she sank on her knees and
sobbed like a child.

I received a message to leave my friend's house at such an hour, and go to
a certain place where a friend would be waiting for me. As a matter of
prudence no names were mentioned. I had no means of conjecturing who I was
to meet, or where I was going. I did not like to move thus blindfolded, but
I had no choice. It would not do for me to remain where I was. I disguised
myself, summoned up courage to meet the worst, and went to the appointed
place. My friend Betty was there; she was the last person I expected to
see. We hurried along in silence. The pain in my leg was so intense that it
seemed as if I should drop but fear gave me strength. We reached the house
and entered unobserved. Her first words were: "Honey, now you is safe. Dem
devils ain't coming to search _dis_ house. When I get you into missis' safe
place, I will bring some nice hot supper. I specs you need it after all dis
skeering." Betty's vocation led her to think eating the most important
thing in life. She did not realize that my heart was too full for me to
care much about supper.

The mistress came to meet us, and led me up stairs to a small room over her
own sleeping apartment. "You will be safe here, Linda," said she; "I keep
this room to store away things that are out of use. The girls are not
accustomed to be sent to it, and they will not suspect any thing unless
they hear some noise. I always keep it locked, and Betty shall take care of
the key. But you must be very careful, for my sake as well as your own; and
you must never tell my secret; for it would ruin me and my family. I will
keep the girls busy in the morning, that Betty may have a chance to bring
your breakfast; but it will not do for her to come to you again till night.
I will come to see you sometimes. Keep up your courage. I hope this state
of things will not last long." Betty came with the "nice hot supper," and
the mistress hastened down stairs to keep things straight till she
returned. How my heart overflowed with gratitude! Words choked in my
throat; but I could have kissed the feet of my benefactress. For that deed
of Christian womanhood, may God forever bless her!

I went to sleep that night with the feeling that I was for the present the
most fortunate slave in town. Morning came and filled my little cell with
light. I thanked the heavenly Father for this safe retreat. Opposite my
window was a pile of feather beds. On the top of these I could lie
perfectly concealed, and command a view of the street through which Dr.
Flint passed to his office. Anxious as I was, I felt a gleam of
satisfaction when I saw him. Thus far I had outwitted him, and I triumphed
over it. Who can blame slaves for being cunning? They are constantly
compelled to resort to it. It is the only weapon of the weak and oppressed
against the strength of their tyrants.

I was daily hoping to hear that my master had sold my children; for I knew
who was on the watch to buy them. But Dr. Flint cared even more for revenge
than he did for money. My brother William and the good aunt who had served
in his family twenty years, and my little Benny, and Ellen, who was a
little over two years old, were thrust into jail, as a means of compelling
my relatives to give some information about me. He swore my grandmother
should never see one of them again till I was brought back. They kept these
facts from me for several days. When I heard that my little ones were in a
loathsome jail, my first impulse was to go to them. I was encountering
dangers for the sake of freeing them, and must I be the cause of their
death? The thought was agonizing. My benefactress tried to soothe me by
telling me that my aunt would take good care of the children while they
remained in jail. But it added to my pain to think that the good old aunt,
who had always been so kind to her sister's orphan children, should be shut
up in prison for no other crime than loving them. I suppose my friends
feared a reckless movement on my part, knowing, as they did, that my life
was bound up in my children. I received a note from my brother William. It
was scarcely legible, and ran thus: "Wherever you are, dear sister, I beg
of you not to come here. We are all much better off than you are. If you
come, you will ruin us all. They would force you to tell where you had
been, or they would kill you. Take the advice of your friends; if not for
the sake of me and your children, at least for the sake of those you would
ruin."

Poor William! He also must suffer for being my brother. I took his advice
and kept quiet. My aunt was taken out of jail at the end of a month,
because Mrs. Flint could not spare her any longer. She was tired of being
her own housekeeper. It was quite too fatiguing to order her dinner and eat
it too. My children remained in jail, where brother William did all he
could for their comfort. Betty went to see them sometimes, and brought me
tidings. She was not permitted to enter the jail; but William would hold
them up to the grated window while she chatted with them. When she repeated
their prattle, and told me how they wanted to see their ma, my tears would
flow. Old Betty would exclaim, "Lors, chile! what's you crying 'bout? Dem
young uns vil kill you dead. Don't be so chick'n hearted! If you does, you
vil nebber git thro' dis world."

Good old soul! She had gone through the world childless. She had never had
little ones to clasp their arms round her neck; she had never seen their
soft eyes looking into hers; no sweet little voices had called her mother;
she had never pressed her own infants to her heart, with the feeling that
even in fetters there was something to live for. How could she realize my
feelings? Betty's husband loved children dearly, and wondered why God had
denied them to him. He expressed great sorrow when he came to Betty with
the tidings that Ellen had been taken out of jail and carried to Dr.
Flint's. She had the measles a short time before they carried her to jail,
and the disease had left her eyes affected. The doctor had taken her home
to attend to them. My children had always been afraid of the doctor and his
wife. They had never been inside of their house. Poor little Ellen cried
all day to be carried back to prison. The instincts of childhood are true.
She knew she was loved in the jail. Her screams and sobs annoyed Mrs.
Flint. Before night she called one of the slaves, and said, "Here, Bill,
carry this brat back to the jail. I can't stand her noise. If she would be
quiet I should like to keep the little minx. She would make a handy
waiting-maid for my daughter by and by. But if she staid here, with her
white face, I suppose I should either kill her or spoil her. I hope the
doctor will sell them as far as wind and water can carry them. As for their
mother, her ladyship will find out yet what she gets by running away. She
hasn't so much feeling for her children as a cow has for its calf. If she
had, she would have come back long ago, to get them out of jail, and save
all this expense and trouble. The good-for-nothing hussy! When she is
caught, she shall stay in jail, in irons, for one six months, and then be
sold to a sugar plantation. I shall see her broke in yet. What do you stand
there for, Bill? Why don't you go off with the brat? Mind, now, that you
don't let any of the niggers speak to her in the street!"

When these remarks were reported to me, I smiled at Mrs. Flint's saying
that she should either kill my child or spoil her. I thought to myself
there was very little danger of the latter. I have always considered it as
one of God's special providences that Ellen screamed till she was carried
back to jail.

That same night Dr. Flint was called to a patient, and did not return till
near morning. Passing my grandmother's, he saw a light in the house, and
thought to himself, "Perhaps this has something to do with Linda." He
knocked, and the door was opened. "What calls you up so early?" said he. "I
saw your light, and I thought I would just stop and tell you that I have
found out where Linda is. I know where to put my hands on her, and I shall
have her before twelve o'clock." When he had turned away, my grandmother
and my uncle looked anxiously at each other. They did not know whether or
not it was merely one of the doctor's tricks to frighten them. In their
uncertainty, they thought it was best to have a message conveyed to my
friend Betty. Unwilling to alarm her mistress, Betty resolved to dispose of
me herself. She came to me, and told me to rise and dress quickly. We
hurried down stairs, and across the yard, into the kitchen. She locked the
door, and lifted up a plank in the floor. A buffalo skin and a bit of
carpet were spread for me to lie on, and a quilt thrown over me. "Stay
dar," said she, "till I sees if dey know 'bout you. Dey say dey vil put
thar hans on you afore twelve o'clock. If dey _did_ know whar you are, dey
won't know _now_. Dey'll be disapinted dis time. Dat's all I got to say. If
dey comes rummagin 'mong _my_ tings, de'll get one bressed sarssin from dis
'ere nigger." In my shallow bed I had but just room enough to bring my
hands to my face to keep the dust out of my eyes; for Betty walked over me
twenty times in an hour, passing from the dresser to the fireplace. When
she was alone, I could hear her pronouncing anathemas over Dr. Flint and
all his tribe, every now and then saying, with a chuckling laugh, "Dis
nigger's too cute for 'em dis time." When the housemaids were about, she
had sly ways of drawing them out, that I might hear what they would say.
She would repeat stories she had heard about my being in this, or that, or
the other place. To which they would answer, that I was not fool enough to
be staying round there; that I was in Philadelphia or New York before this
time. When all were abed and asleep, Betty raised the plank, and said,
"Come out, chile; come out. Dey don't know nottin 'bout you. Twas only
white folks' lies, to skeer de niggers."

Some days after this adventure I had a much worse fright. As I sat very
still in my retreat above stairs, cheerful visions floated through my mind.
I thought Dr. Flint would soon get discouraged, and would be willing to
sell my children, when he lost all hopes of making them the means of my
discovery. I knew who was ready to buy them. Suddenly I heard a voice that
chilled my blood. The sound was too familiar to me, it had been too
dreadful, for me not to recognize at once my old master. He was in the
house, and I at once concluded he had come to seize me. I looked round in
terror. There was no way of escape. The voice receded. I supposed the
constable was with him, and they were searching the house. In my alarm I
did not forget the trouble I was bringing on my generous benefactress. It
seemed as if I were born to bring sorrow on all who befriended me, and that
was the bitterest drop in the bitter cup of my life. After a while I heard
approaching footsteps; the key was turned in my door. I braced myself
against the wall to keep from falling. I ventured to look up, and there
stood my kind benefactress alone. I was too much overcome to speak, and
sunk down upon the floor.

"I thought you would hear your master's voice," she said; "and knowing you
would be terrified, I came to tell you there is nothing to fear. You may
even indulge in a laugh at the old gentleman's expense. He is so sure you
are in New York, that he came to borrow five hundred dollars to go in
pursuit of you. My sister had some money to loan on interest. He has
obtained it, and proposes to start for New York to-night. So, for the
present, you see you are safe. The doctor will merely lighten his pocket
hunting after the bird he has left behind."

 Months Of Peril Harriet marvels at how long and diligently the search for her went on. She sent messages to her relatives who told her they despaired that she would ever succeed at her escape. Nevertheless, Harriet's motto was "Give me liberty, or give me death". Harriet moved to the house of a kind white woman who was friends with her grandmother. One of her slaves, Betty, led Harriet to a small room above the woman's own apartment and told her that was where she could hide. Harriet was overwhelmed with this woman's benevolence and care. Harriet learned that Dr. Flint had put her brother William and her two children in jail. In a letter, William told her to remain steadfast and not come after them. Betty went to see them sometimes and reported back to Harriet. One day Dr. Flint visited her grandmother and told her that he knew where Harriet was and that he was about to go get her. News traveled to Harriet in her hiding place. She was terrified, but they soon learned that the Dr. was lying. Some time later, Harriet heard his voice at Betty's house, but it turned out that he was so sure she was in New York he came to borrow money to go after her

