second attempt to secure my freedom. I now had
three weeks during which to prepare for my journey.
Early on Monday morning, before Master Hugh had
time to make any engagement for me, I went out
and got employment of Mr. Butler, at his ship-yard
near the drawbridge, upon what is called the City
Block, thus making it unnecessary for him to seek
employment for me. At the end of the week, I
brought him between eight and nine dollars. He
seemed very well pleased, and asked why I did not
do the same the week before. He little knew what
my plans were. My object in working steadily was
to remove any suspicion he might entertain of my
intent to run away; and in this I succeeded admi-
rably. I suppose he thought I was never better
satisfied with my condition than at the very time
during which I was planning my escape. The second
week passed, and again I carried him my full wages;
and so well pleased was he, that he gave me twenty-
five cents, (quite a large sum for a slaveholder to
give a slave,) and bade me to make a good use of it.
I told him I would.
Things went on without very smoothly indeed,
but within there was trouble. It is impossible for
me to describe my feelings as the time of my con-
templated start drew near. I had a number of warm-
hearted friends in Baltimore, — friends that I loved
almost as I did my life, — and the thought of being
separated from them forever was painful beyond
expression. It is my opinion that thousands would
escape from slavery, who now remain, but for the
strong cords of affection that bind them to their
friends. The thought of leaving my friends was de-
cidedly the most painful thought with which I had
to contend. The love of them was my tender point,
and shook my decision more than all things else.
Besides the pain of separation, the dread and appre-
hension of a failure exceeded what I had experienced
at my first attempt. The appalling defeat I then
sustained returned to torment me. I felt assured
that, if I failed in this attempt, my case would be
a hopeless one — it would seal my fate as a slave for-
ever. I could not hope to get off with any thing less
than the severest punishment, and being placed
beyond the means of escape. It required no very
vivid imagination to depict the most frightful
scenes through which I should have to pass, in case
I failed. The wretchedness of slavery, and the
blessedness of freedom, were perpetually before me.
It was life and death with me. But I remained
firm, and, according to my resolution, on the third
day of September, 1838, I left my chains, and suc-
ceeded in reaching New York without the slightest
interruption of any kind. How I did so, — what means
I adopted, — what direction I travelled, and by what
mode of conveyance, — I must leave unexplained,
for the reasons before mentioned.
I have been frequently asked how I felt when I
found myself in a free State. I have never been able
to answer the question with any satisfaction to my-
self. It was a moment of the highest excitement I
ever experienced. I suppose I felt as one may imagine
the unarmed mariner to feel when he is rescued
by a friendly man-of-war from the pursuit of a pirate.
In writing to a dear friend, immediately after my
arrival at New York, I said I felt like one who had
escaped a den of hungry lions. This state of mind,
however, very soon subsided; and I was again seized
with a feeling of great insecurity and loneliness. I
was yet liable to be taken back, and subjected to
all the tortures of slavery. This in itself was enough
to damp the ardor of my enthusiasm. But the lone-
liness overcame me. There I was in the midst of
thousands, and yet a perfect stranger; without home
and without friends, in the midst of thousands of my
own brethren — children of a common Father, and
yet I dared not to unfold to any one of them my
sad condition. I was afraid to speak to any one for
fear of speaking to the wrong one, and thereby fall-
ing into the hands of money-loving kidnappers,
whose business it was to lie in wait for the panting
fugitive, as the ferocious beasts of the forest lie in
wait for their prey. The motto which I adopted
when I started from slavery was this — “Trust no
man!” I saw in every white man an enemy, and in
almost every colored man cause for distrust. It was
a most painful situation; and, to understand it, one
must needs experience it, or imagine himself in
similar circumstances. Let him be a fugitive slave in
a strange land — a land given up to be the hunting-
ground for slaveholders — whose inhabitants are legal-
ized kidnappers — where he is every moment sub-
jected to the terrible liability of being seized upon
by his fellowmen, as the hideous crocodile seizes
upon his prey! — I say, let him place himself in my
situation — without home or friends — without money
or credit — wanting shelter, and no one to give it —
wanting bread, and no money to buy it, — and at the
same time let him feel that he is pursued by merci-
less men-hunters, and in total darkness as to what
to do, where to go, or where to stay, — perfectly help-
less both as to the means of defence and means of
escape, — in the midst of plenty, yet suffering the ter-
rible gnawings of hunger, — in the midst of houses,
yet having no home, — among fellow-men, yet feeling
as if in the midst of wild beasts, whose greediness
to swallow up the trembling and half-famished fugi-
tive is only equalled by that with which the monsters
of the deep swallow up the helpless fish upon which
they subsist, — I say, let him be placed in this most
trying situation, — the situation in which I was placed,
— then, and not till then, will he fully appreciate the
hardships of, and know how to sympathize with, the
toil-worn and whip-scarred fugitive slave.
Thank Heaven, I remained but a short time in
this distressed situation. I was relieved from it by the
humane hand of Mr. DAVID RUGGLES, whose vigi-
lance, kindness, and perseverance, I shall never for-
get. I am glad of an opportunity to express, as far as
words can, the love and gratitude I bear him. Mr.
Ruggles is now afflicted with blindness, and is him-
self in need of the same kind offices which he was
once so forward in the performance of toward others.
I had been in New York but a few days, when Mr.
Ruggles sought me out, and very kindly took me
to his boarding-house at the corner of Church and
Lespenard Streets. Mr. Ruggles was then very deeply
engaged in the memorable DARG case, as well as at-
tending to a number of other fugitive slaves, devis-
ing ways and means for their successful escape; and,
though watched and hemmed in on almost every
side, he seemed to be more than a match for his
enemies.
Very soon after I went to Mr. Ruggles, he wished
to know of me where I wanted to go; as he deemed
it unsafe for me to remain in New York. I told him
I was a calker, and should like to go where I could
get work. I thought of going to Canada; but he de-
cided against it, and in favor of my going to New
Bedford, thinking I should be able to get work there
at my trade. At this time, Anna,* my intended wife,
came on; for I wrote to her immediately after my
arrival at New York, (notwithstanding my homeless,
houseless, and helpless condition,) informing her of
my successful flight, and wishing her to come on
forthwith. In a few days after her arrival, Mr. Rug-
gles called in the Rev. J. W. C. Pennington, who, in
the presence of Mr. Ruggles, Mrs. Michaels, and
two or three others, performed the marriage cere-
mony, and gave us a certificate, of which the fol-
lowing is an exact copy: —
“This may certify, that I joined together in holy
matrimony Frederick Johnson+ and Anna Murray, as
man and wife, in the presence of Mr. David Ruggles
and Mrs. Michaels.
“JAMES W. C. PENNINGTON
“NEW YORK, SEPT. 15, 1838”
Upon receiving this certificate, and a five-dollar
bill from Mr. Ruggles, I shouldered one part of our
baggage, and Anna took up the other, and we set
out forthwith to take passage on board of the steam-