Twelve Years a Slave: Narrative of Solomon Northup, a Citizen of New-York, Kidnapped in Washington City in 1841, and Rescued in 1853, from a Cotton Plantation near the Red River in LouisianaNorthup, Solomon
History
Twelve Years a Slave: Narrative of Solomon Northup, a Citizen of New-York, Kidnapped in Washington City in 1841, and Rescued in 1853, from a Cotton Plantation near the Red River in Louisiana
Northup, Solomon
African Americans -- Biography; Enslaved persons -- United States -- Biography; Enslaved persons' writings, American; Northup, Solomon, 1808-1863?; Plantation life -- Louisiana -- History -- 19th century; Slavery -- Louisiana -- History -- 19th century
About midnight following, the cell door opened, and Burch and Radburn
entered, with lanterns in their hands. Burch, with an oath, ordered us
to roll up our blankets without delay, and get ready to go on board
the boat. He swore we would be left unless we hurried fast. He aroused
the children from their slumbers with a rough shake, and said they
were d--d sleepy, it appeared. Going out into the yard, he called Clem
Ray, ordering him to leave the loft and come into the cell, and bring
his blanket with him. When Clem appeared, he placed us side by side,
and fastened us together with hand-cuffs--my left hand to his right.
John Williams had been taken out a day or two before, his master
having redeemed him, greatly to his delight. Clem and I were ordered
to march, Eliza and the children following. We were conducted into
the yard, from thence into the covered passage, and up a flight of
steps through a side door into the upper room, where I had heard the
walking to and fro. Its furniture was a stove, a few old chairs, and a
long table, covered with papers. It was a white-washed room, without
any carpet on the floor, and seemed a sort of office. By one of the
windows, I remember, hung a rusty sword, which attracted my attention.
Burch's trunk was there. In obedience to his orders, I took hold of
one of its handles with my unfettered hand, while he taking hold of
the other, we proceeded out of the front door into the street in the
same order as we had left the cell.
It was a dark night. All was quiet. I could see lights, or the
reflection of them, over towards Pennsylvania Avenue, but there was
no one, not even a straggler, to be seen. I was almost resolved to
attempt to break away. Had I not been hand-cuffed the attempt would
certainly have been made, whatever consequence might have followed.
Radburn was in the rear, carrying a large stick, and hurrying up
the children as fast as the little ones could walk. So we passed,
hand-cuffed and in silence, through the streets of Washington--through
the Capital of a nation, whose theory of government, we are told,
rests on the foundation of man's inalienable right to life, liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness! Hail! Columbia, happy land, indeed!
Reaching the steamboat, we were quickly hustled into the hold, among
barrels and boxes of freight. A colored servant brought a light, the
bell rung, and soon the vessel started down the Potomac, carrying
us we knew not where. The bell tolled as we passed the tomb of
Washington! Burch, no doubt, with uncovered head, bowed reverently
before the sacred ashes of the man who devoted his illustrious life to
the liberty of his country.
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