Amherstburg
John Hatfield
I am a native of Pennsylvania; and a mulatto. I was employed as a barber on a steamboat plying from New Orleans to Cincinnati. At one time, while in New Orleans, I was afraid they would take me under the law, and put me in jail. I would not conceal myself on board the boat, but went up and stayed with a friend, until I thought it time for the boat to start. But I was too soon, and came back to the boat the day before she sailed. I was arrested, ironed in the street to degrade me, and put in the jail, where I remained twenty-three hours. I found in the jail men from Boston, New York, Baltimore, and other places. There was a chain-gang in there rattling, one crazy fellow shouting—it was awful! It reminded me of the place of torment more than any thing else. In the morning the whip was cracking, starting out the chain-gang, just as one would start up horses. They measured me, and recorded my name. I had committed no crime. I never felt so degraded in my life. If I had murdered a man or stolen a horse, I could not have been treated with more contempt. A friend of mine sent a bed to the jail for me to sleep on—they would not take it in,—said I had a good bed—it was a plank and a blanket. They fed me on baked beans and pork, and charged me eleven dollars. It was a complete system of robbery. They make thousands of dollars so, out of the poor colored people. Still New Orleans used to be the best place in the Union for colored people, after they got the right of citizenship: but I am told it is getting to be harder on them now.
I was in Cincinnati when thirteen slaves reached there, running from Kentucky. They got there at seven or eight in the morning. They were questioned very closely by slave-catchers. One, pretending to be their friend, put them in a cellar, and was guarding them very closely, in order to get the reward. Among the slaves were Joseph Sanford and his wife. A few of us hearing of it, went there as quick as possible, and found the man stopping up the holes in the cellar to keep people from seeing them. I went in and asked Mrs. Sanford if she knew that man. She said, “No—never saw him before.” I said, “You must get out of this.” I put a comrade to watch the man, and we took them out two at a time, and hid them in various parts of the city. Their pursuers were there in less than an hour. They offered large rewards to any one who would just tell what square they were in. But the rewards would not fetch them: a million of dollars would not take a slave in Cincinnati out of some people’s hands.
They stayed concealed a fortnight, and then myself and others guided them on the way to Michigan, which they reached in safety. However, they were afterwards all captured in Michigan: but they got off before a judge, and were then sent over the line into Canada.
I came into this country on account of the oppressive laws of the United States. I have as good friends in the United States, colored and white, as ever a man had,—I never expect to get so good friends again—but the laws were against me.
I never felt better pleased with any thing I ever did in my life, than in getting a slave woman clear, when her master was taking her from Virginia. She came on board a steamboat to Cincinnati. She had got to a friend’s house in the city. Word came to my ear that too many knew where she was. I went there and told the friend; he thought she was safe. Then I went home about sundown from there, and about dark he came to me—he told me they had been there,—they came to the back door,—he wrapped her in a blanket, took her out of a front window, and took her across the street. A man asked him what he had there. “A sick man.” He took her to another friend’s house across the street: that house was next surrounded. I took a young man’s clothes (he lived at my house) and dressed her in them,—we came out at a gate near by, we crossed over the street;—there were five or six persons then coming towards us—all I could say was, “walk heavy!” for they came right upon us. They walked with us half a square—I was scared only for her. They stopped a little—we got fifty yards ahead of them. I then told her, “they are coming again,—hold your head up, and walk straight and heavy!” By this time they were up with us again: they walked with us a whole square, looking right in her face, trying to recognize her. We came to where there was a light opposite,—I did not want to have her come to the light,—I turned the corner and said, “Come this way, Jim.” She understood, and followed me. Upon this, they turned and walked away as fast as they could walk. What I said had the effect. I put her in a safe place, and took a turn back again: I wanted to have some fun. There were about a dozen standing at the corner, near the house where they supposed she was, talking about it. I went into a corner house,—there were several of us in there, and we went to laughing and talking about it: we did this on purpose to make fun of them. They went away to a house, and said they had seen the “nigger” dressed in men’s clothes, but that they were afraid to take her, there were so many “niggers” round. There was no one with her but me, but they did not want to have it appear they were beaten so badly. We had a good deal of sport out of it,—the woman we called “Jim,” as long as she stayed there. She came to the North at last. I have had fifteen runaways harbored in my house at one time—in one year, twenty-seven.