<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</SPAN></h2>
<p><i>Character of my prison companions.—Jail breaking
contemplated.—Defeat of our plan.—My wife and child
removed.—Disgraceful proposal to her, and cruel punishment.—Our
departure in a coffle for New Orleans.—Events of our journey.</i></p>
<p class="cap">MOST of the inmates of this prison I have described, were white men
who had been sentenced there by the law, for depredations committed by
them. There was in that prison, gamblers, drunkards, thieves, robbers,
adulterers, and even murderers. There were also in the female
department, harlots, pick-pockets, and adulteresses. In such company,
and under such influences, where there was constant swearing, lying,
cheating, and stealing, it was almost impossible for a virtuous person
to avoid pollution, or to maintain their virtue. No place or places in
this country can be better calculated to inculcate vice of every kind
than a Southern work house or house of correction.</p>
<p>After a profligate, thief, or a robber, has learned all that they can
out of the prison, they might go in one of those prisons and learn
something more—they might properly be called robber colleges; and if
slaveholders understood this they would never let their slaves enter
them. No man would give much for a slave who had been kept long in one
of these prisons.</p>
<p>I have often heard them telling each other how they robbed houses, and
persons on the high way, by knocking them down, and would rob them,
pick their pockets, and leave them half dead. Others would tell of
stealing horses, cattle, sheep, and slaves; and when they would be
sometimes apprehended, by the aid of their friends, they would break
jail. But they could most generally find enough to swear them clear of
any kind of villany. They seemed to take great delight in telling of
their exploits in robbery. There was a regular combination of them who
had determined to resist law, wherever they went, to carry out their
purposes.</p>
<p>In conversing with myself, they learned that I was notorious for
running away, and professed sympathy for me. They
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page66" id="page66"></SPAN></span>
thought that I
might yet get to Canada, and be free, and suggested a plan by which I
might accomplish it; and one way was, to learn to read and write, so
that I might write myself a pass ticket, to go just where I pleased,
when I was taken out of the prison; and they taught me secretly all
they could while in the prison.</p>
<p>But there was another plan which they suggested to me to get away from
slavery; that was to break out of the prison and leave my family. I
consented to engage in this plot, but not to leave my family.</p>
<p>By my conduct in the prison, after having been there several weeks, I
had gained the confidence of the keeper, and the turnkey. So much so,
that when I wanted water or anything of the kind, they would open my
door and hand it in to me. One of the turnkeys was an old colored man,
who swept and cleaned up the cells, supplied the prisoners with water,
&c.</p>
<p>On Sundays in the afternoon, the watchmen of the prison were most
generally off, and this old slave, whose name was Stephen, had the
prisoners to attend to. The white prisoners formed a plot to break out
on Sunday in the afternoon, by making me the agent to get the prison
keys from old Stephen.</p>
<p>I was to prepare a stone that would weigh about one pound, tie it up
in a rag, and keep it in my pocket to strike poor old Stephen with,
when he should open my cell door. But this I would not consent to do,
without he should undertake to betray me.</p>
<p>I gave old Stephen one shilling to buy me a water melon, which he was
to bring to me in the afternoon. All the prisoners were to be ready to
strike, just as soon as I opened their doors. When Stephen opened my
door to hand me the melon, I was to grasp him by the collar, raise the
stone over his head, and say to him, that if he made any alarm that I
should knock him down with the stone. But if he would be quiet he
should not be hurt. I was then to take all the keys from him, and lock
him up in the cell—take a chisel and cut the chain from my own leg,
then unlock all the cells below, and let out the other prisoners, who
were all to cut off their chains. We were then to go and let out old
Stephen, and make him go off with us. We were to form a line and march
to the front gate of the prison with a sledge hammer, and
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break it
open, and if we should be discovered, and there should be any out-cry,
we were all to run and raise the alarm of fire, so as to avoid
detection. But while we were all listening for Stephen to open the
door with the melon, he came and reported that he could not get one,
and handed me back the money through the window. All were
disappointed, and nothing done. I looked upon it as being a fortunate
thing for me, for it was certainly a very dangerous experiment for a
slave, and they could never get me to consent to be the leader in that
matter again.</p>
<p>A few days after, another plot was concocted to to break prison, but
it was betrayed by one of the party, which resulted in the most cruel
punishment to the prisoners concerned in it; and I felt thankful that
my name was not connected with it. They were not only flogged, but
they were kept on bread and water alone, for many days. A few days
after we were put in this prison, Garrison came and took my wife and
child out, I knew not for what purpose, nor to what place, but after
the absence of several days I supposed that he had sold them. But one
morning, the outside door was thrown open, and Malinda thrust in by
the ruthless hand of Garrison, whose voice was pouring forth the most
bitter oaths and abusive language that could be dealt out to a female;
while her heart-rending shrieks and sobbing, was truly melting to the
soul of a father and husband.</p>
<p>The language of Malinda was, "Oh! my dear little child is gone? What
shall I do? my child is gone." This most distressing sound struck a
sympathetic chord through all the prison among the prisoners. I was
not permitted to go to my wife and inquire what had become of little
Frances. I never expected to see her again, for I supposed that she
was sold.</p>
<p>That night, however, I had a short interview with my much abused wife,
who told me the secret. She said that Garrison had taken her to a
private house where he kept female slaves for the basest purposes. It
was a resort for slave trading profligates and soul drivers, who were
interested in the same business.</p>
<p>Soon after she arrived at this place, Garrison gave her to understand
what he brought her there for, and made a most disgraceful assault on
her virtue, which she promptly repeled;
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and for which Garrison
punished her with the lash, threatening her that if she did not submit
that he would sell her child. The next day he made the same attempt,
which she resisted, declaring that she would not submit to it; and
again he tied her up and flogged her until her garments were stained
with blood.</p>
<p>He then sent our child off to another part of the city, and said he
meant to sell it, and that she should never see it again. He then
drove Malinda before him to the work-house, swearing by his Maker that
she should submit to him or die. I have already described her entrance
in the prison.</p>
<p>Two days after this he came again and took Malinda out of the prison.
It was several weeks before I saw her again, and learned that he had
not sold her or the child. At the same time he was buying up other
slaves to take to New Orleans. At the expiration of three months he
was ready to start with us for the New Orleans slave market, but we
never knew when we were to go, until the hour had arrived for our
departure.</p>
<p>One Sabbath morning Garrison entered the prison and commanded that our
limbs should be made ready for the coffles. They called us up to an
anvill block, and the heavy log chains which we had been wearing on
our legs during three months, were cut off. I had been in the prison
over three months; but he had other slaves who had not been there so
long. The hand-cuffs were then put on to our wrists. We were coupled
together two and two—the right hand of one to the left hand of
another, and a long chain to connect us together.</p>
<p>The other prisoners appeared to be sorry to see us start off in this
way. We marched off to the river Ohio, to take passage on board of the
steamboat Water Witch. But this was at a very low time of water, in
the fall of 1839. The boat got aground, and did not get off that
night; and Garrison had to watch us all night to keep any from getting
away. He also had a very large savage dog, which was trained up to
catch runaway slaves.</p>
<p>We were more than six weeks getting to the city of New Orleans, in
consequence of low water. We were shifted on to several boats before
we arrived at the mouth of the river Ohio. But we got but very little
rest at night. As all were
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chained together night and day, it was
impossible to sleep, being annoyed by the bustle and crowd of the
passengers on board; by the terrible thought that we were destined to
be sold in market as sheep or oxen; and annoyed by the galling chains
that cramped our wearied limbs on the tedious voyage. But I had
several opportunities to have run away from Garrison before we got to
the mouth of the Ohio river. While they were shifting us from one boat
to another, my hands were some times loosed, until they got us all on
board—and I know that I should have broke away had it not been for
the sake of my wife and child who was with me. I could see no chance
to get them off, and I could not leave them in that condition—and
Garrison was not so much afraid of my running away from him while he
held on to my family, for he knew from the great sacrifices which I
had made to rescue them from slavery, that my attachment was too
strong to run off and leave them in his hands, while there was the
least hope of ever getting them away with me.</p>
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