Collected Articles of Frederick Douglass, a Slave | Page 6

A contest had in fact been going on in my mind
for a long time, between the clear consciousness of right and the
plausible make- shifts of theology and superstition. The one held me an
abject slave--a prisoner for life, punished for some transgression in
which I had no lot nor part; and the other counseled me to manly
endeavor to secure my freedom. This contest was now ended; my
chains were broken, and the victory brought me unspeakable joy.
But my gladness was short-lived, for I was not yet out of the reach and

power of the slave-holders. I soon found that New York was not quite
so free or so safe a refuge as I had supposed, and a sense of loneliness
and insecurity again oppressed me most sadly. I chanced to meet on the
street, a few hours after my landing, a fugitive slave whom I had once
known well in slavery. The information received from him alarmed me.
The fugitive in question was known in Baltimore as "Allender's Jake,"
but in New York he wore the more respectable name of "William
Dixon." Jake, in law, was the property of Doctor Allender, and Tolly
Allender, the son of the doctor, had once made an effort to recapture
MR. DIXON, but had failed for want of evidence to support his claim.
Jake told me the circumstances of this attempt, and how narrowly he
escaped being sent back to slavery and torture. He told me that New
York was then full of Southerners returning from the Northern
watering-places; that the colored people of New York were not to be
trusted; that there were hired men of my own color who would betray
me for a few dollars; that there were hired men ever on the lookout for
fugitives; that I must trust no man with my secret; that I must not think
of going either upon the wharves or into any colored boarding-house,
for all such places were closely watched; that he was himself unable to
help me; and, in fact, he seemed while speaking to me to fear lest I
myself might be a spy and a betrayer. Under this apprehension, as I
suppose, he showed signs of wishing to be rid of me, and with
whitewash brush in hand, in search of work, he soon disappeared.
This picture, given by poor "Jake," of New York, was a damper to my
enthusiasm. My little store of money would soon be exhausted, and
since it would be unsafe for me to go on the wharves for work, and I
had no introductions elsewhere, the prospect for me was far from
cheerful. I saw the wisdom of keeping away from the ship-yards, for, if
pursued, as I felt certain I should be, Mr. Auld, my "master," would
naturally seek me there among the calkers. Every door seemed closed
against me. I was in the midst of an ocean of my fellow-men, and yet a
perfect stranger to every one. I was without home, without
acquaintance, without money, without credit, without work, and
without any definite knowledge as to what course to take, or where to
look for succor. In such an extremity, a man had something besides his
new-born freedom to think of. While wandering about the streets of

New York, and lodging at least one night among the barrels on one of
the wharves, I was indeed free--from slavery, but free from food and
shelter as well. I kept my secret to myself as long as I could, but I was
compelled at last to seek some one who would befriend me without
taking advantage of my destitution to betray me. Such a person I found
in a sailor named Stuart, a warm-hearted and generous fellow, who,
from his humble home on Centre street, saw me standing on the
opposite sidewalk, near the Tombs prison. As he approached me, I
ventured a remark to him which at once enlisted his interest in me. He
took me to his home to spend the night, and in the morning went with
me to Mr. David Ruggles, the secretary of the New York Vigilance
Committee, a co-worker with Isaac T. Hopper, Lewis and Arthur
Tappan, Theodore S. Wright, Samuel Cornish, Thomas Downing,
Philip A. Bell, and other true men of their time. All these (save Mr.
Bell, who still lives, and is editor and publisher of a paper called the
"Elevator," in San Francisco) have finished their work on earth. Once
in the hands of these brave and wise men, I felt comparatively safe.
With Mr. Ruggles, on the corner of Lispenard and Church streets, I was
hidden several days, during which time my intended wife came on from
Baltimore at my call, to share the burdens of life with me. She was a