Collected Articles of Frederick Douglass, a Slave | Page 7

free woman, and came at once on getting the good news of my safety.
We were married by Rev. J. W. C. Pennington, then a well-known and
respected Presbyterian minister. I had no money with which to pay the
marriage fee, but he seemed well pleased with our thanks.
Mr. Ruggles was the first officer on the "Underground Railroad" whom
I met after coming North, and was, indeed, the only one with whom I
had anything to do till I became such an officer myself. Learning that
my trade was that of a calker, he promptly decided that the best place
for me was in New Bedford, Mass. He told me that many ships for
whaling voyages were fitted out there, and that I might there find work
at my trade and make a good living. So, on the day of the marriage
ceremony, we took our little luggage to the steamer John W. Richmond,
which, at that time, was one of the line running between New York and
Newport, R. I. Forty-three years ago colored travelers were not
permitted in the cabin, nor allowed abaft the paddle-wheels of a steam
vessel. They were compelled, whatever the weather might be,--whether

cold or hot, wet or dry,-- to spend the night on deck. Unjust as this
regulation was, it did not trouble us much; we had fared much harder
before. We arrived at Newport the next morning, and soon after an old
fashioned stage-coach, with "New Bedford" in large yellow letters on
its sides, came down to the wharf. I had not money enough to pay our
fare, and stood hesitating what to do. Fortunately for us, there were two
Quaker gentlemen who were about to take passage on the stage,--
Friends William C. Taber and Joseph Ricketson,--who at once
discerned our true situation, and, in a peculiarly quiet way, addressing
me, Mr. Taber said: "Thee get in." I never obeyed an order with more
alacrity, and we were soon on our way to our new home. When we
reached "Stone Bridge" the passengers alighted for breakfast, and paid
their fares to the driver. We took no breakfast, and, when asked for our
fares, I told the driver I would make it right with him when we reached
New Bedford. I expected some objection to this on his part, but he
made none. When, however, we reached New Bedford, he took our
baggage, including three music-books,--two of them collections by
Dyer, and one by Shaw,--and held them until I was able to redeem them
by paying to him the amount due for our rides. This was soon done, for
Mr. Nathan Johnson not only received me kindly and hospitably, but,
on being informed about our baggage, at once loaned me the two
dollars with which to square accounts with the stage-driver. Mr. and
Mrs. Nathan Johnson reached a good old age, and now rest from their
labors. I am under many grateful obligations to them. They not only
"took me in when a stranger" and "fed me when hungry," but taught me
how to make an honest living. Thus, in a fortnight after my flight from
Maryland, I was safe in New Bedford, a citizen of the grand old
commonwealth of Massachusetts.
Once initiated into my new life of freedom and assured by Mr. Johnson
that I need not fear recapture in that city, a comparatively unimportant
question arose as to the name by which I should be known thereafter in
my new relation as a free man. The name given me by my dear mother
was no less pretentious and long than Frederick Augustus Washington
Bailey. I had, however, while living in Maryland, dispensed with the
Augustus Washington, and retained only Frederick Bailey. Between
Baltimore and New Bedford, the better to conceal myself from the

slave-hunters, I had parted with Bailey and called myself Johnson; but
in New Bedford I found that the Johnson family was already so
numerous as to cause some confusion in distinguishing them, hence a
change in this name seemed desirable. Nathan Johnson, mine host,
placed great emphasis upon this necessity, and wished me to allow him
to select a name for me. I consented, and he called me by my present
name--the one by which I have been known for three and forty
years--Frederick Douglass. Mr. Johnson had just been reading the
"Lady of the Lake," and so pleased was he with its great character that
he wished me to bear his name. Since reading that charming poem
myself, I have often thought that, considering the noble hospitality and
manly character of Nathan Johnson--black man though he was--he, far
more than I, illustrated the virtues of the Douglas of Scotland. Sure am
I that, if any slave-catcher had entered his domicile with a view to my
recapture,