32 Harriet had found it hard to leave the warmth and friendliness, too. But she urged them on. For a while, as they walked, they seemed to carry in them a measure of contentment; some of the serenity and the cleanliness of that big warm kitchen lingeredLinks to an external site. on inside them. But as they walked farther and farther away from the warmth and the light, the cold and the darkness entered into them. They fell silent, sullenLinks to an external site., suspicious. She waited for the moment when some one of them would turn mutinous. It did not happen that night.
33 Two nights later she was aware that the feet behind her were moving slower and slower. She heard the irritability in their voices, knew that soon someone would refuse to go on.
34 She started talking about William Still and the Philadelphia Vigilance Committee.Links to an external site. No one commented. No one asked any questions. She told them the story of William and Ellen Craft and how they escaped from Georgia. Ellen was so fair that she looked as though she were white, and so she dressed up in a man’s clothing and she looked like a wealthy young planter. Her husband, William, who was dark, played the role of her slave. Thus they traveled from Macon, Georgia, to Philadelphia, riding on the trains, staying at the finest hotels. Ellen pretended to be very ill—her right arm was in a sling, and her right hand was bandaged, because she was supposed to have rheumatism. Thus she avoided having to sign the register at the hotels for she could not read or write. They finally arrived safely in Philadelphia, and then went on to Boston.
35 No one said anything. Not one of them seemed to have heard her.
36 She told them about Frederick Douglass, the most famous of the escaped slaves, of his eloquenceLinks to an external site., of his magnificent appearance. Then she told them of her own first vain effort at running away, evokingLinks to an external site. the memory of that miserable life she had led as a child, reliving it for a moment in the telling.
37 But they had been tired too long, hungry too long, afraid too long, footsore too long. One of them suddenly cried out in despair, “Let me go back. It is better to be a slave than to suffer like this in order to be free.”
38 She carried a gun with her on these trips. She had never used it—except as a threat. Now as she aimed it, she experienced a feeling of guilt, remembering that time, years ago, when she had prayed for the death of Edward Brodas, the Master, and then not too long afterward had heard that great wailing cry that came from the throats of the field hands, and knew from the sound that the Master was dead.
39 One of the runaways said, again, “Let me go back. Let me go back,” and stood still, and then turned around and said, over his shoulder, “I am going back.”
40 She lifted the gun, aimed it at the despairing slave. She said, “Go on with us or die.” The husky low-pitched voice was grim.
41 He hesitated for a moment and then he joined the others. They started walking again. She tried to explain to them why none of them could go back to the plantation. If a runaway returned, he would turn traitor, the master and the overseer would force him to turn traitor. The returned slave would disclose the stopping places, the hiding places, the cornstacks they had used with the full knowledge of the owner of the farm, the name of the German farmer who had fed them and sheltered them. These people who had risked their own security to help runaways would be ruined, fined, imprisoned.
42 She said, “We got to go free or die. And freedom’s not bought with dust.”
43 This time she told them about the long agony of the Middle PassageLinks to an external site. on the old slave ships, about the black horror of the holds, about the chains and the whips. They too knew these stories. But she wanted to remind them of the long hard way they had come, about the long hard way they had yet to go. She told them about Thomas Sims, the boy picked up on the streets of Boston and sent back to Georgia. She said when they got him back to Savannah, got him in prison there, they whipped him until a doctor who was standing by watching said, “You will kill him if you strike him again!” His master said, “Let him die!”
44 Thus she forced them to go on. Sometimes she thought she had become nothing but a voice speaking in the darkness, cajolingLinks to an external site., urging, threatening. Sometimes she told them things to make them laugh, sometimes she sang to them, and heard the eleven voices behind her blending softly with hers, and then she knew that for the moment all was well with them.
45 She gave the impression of being a short, muscular, indomitable woman who could never be defeated. Yet at any moment she was liable to be seized by one of those curious fits of sleep, which might last for a few minutes or for hours.
46 Even on this trip, she suddenly fell asleep in the woods. The runaways, ragged, dirty, hungry, cold, did not steal the gun as they might have, and set off by themselves, or turn back. They sat on the ground near her and waited patiently until she awakened. They had come to trust her implicitly, totally. They, too, had come to believe her repeated statement, “We got to go free or die.” She was leading them into freedom, and so they waited until she was ready to go on.
47 Finally, they reached Thomas Garrett’s house in Wilmington, Delaware. Just as Harriet had promised, Garrett gave them all new shoes, and provided carriages to take them on to the next stop.
48 By slow stages they reached Philadelphia, where William Still hastily recorded their names, and the plantations whence they had come, and something of the life they had led in slavery. Then he carefully hid what he had written, for fear it might be discovered. In 1872 he published this record in book form and called it The Underground Railroad. In the foreword to his book he said: “While I knew the danger of keeping strict records, and while I did not then dream that in my day slavery would be blotted out, or that the time would come when I could publish these records, it used to afford me great satisfaction to take them down, fresh from the lips of fugitives on the way to freedom, and to preserve them as they had given them.”
49 William Still, who was familiar with all the station stops on the Underground Railroad, supplied Harriet with money and sent her and her eleven fugitives on to Burlington, New Jersey.
50 Harriet felt safer now, though there were danger spots ahead. But the biggest part of her job was over. As they went farther and farther north, it grew colder; she was aware of the wind on the Jersey ferry and aware of the cold damp in New York. From New York they went on to Syracuse, where the temperature was even lower.
51 In Syracuse she met the Reverend J. W. Loguen, known as “Jarm” Loguen. This was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Both Harriet and Jarm Loguen were to become friends and supporters of Old John Brown.Links to an external site.
52 From Syracuse they went north again, into a colder, snowier city—Rochester. Here they almost certainly stayed with Frederick Douglass, for he wrote in his autobiography:
53 On one occasion I had eleven fugitives at the same time under my roof, and it was necessary for them to remain with me until I could collect sufficient money to get them to Canada. It was the largest number I ever had at any one time, and I had some difficulty in providing so many with food and shelter, but, as may well be imagined, they were not very fastidious in either direction, and were well content with very plain food, and a strip of carpet on the floor for a bed, or a place on the straw in the barnloft.
54 Late in December, 1851, Harriet arrived in St. Catharines, Canada West (now Ontario), with the eleven fugitives. It had taken almost a month to complete this journey; most of the time had been spent getting out of Maryland.
55 That first winter in St. Catharines was a terrible one. Canada was a strange frozen land, snow everywhere, ice everywhere, and a bone-biting cold the like of which none of them had ever experienced before. Harriet rented a small frame house in the town and set to work to make a home. The fugitives boarded with her. They worked in the forests, felling trees, and so did she. Sometimes she took other jobs, cooking or cleaning house for people in the town. She cheered on these newly arrived fugitives, working herself, finding work for them, finding food for them, praying for them, sometimes begging for them.
55 Often she found herself thinking of the beauty of Maryland, the mellowness of the soil, the richness of the plant life there. The climate itself made for an ease of living that could never be duplicated in this bleak, barren countryside.
56 In spite of the severe cold, the hard work, she came to love St. Catharines, and the other towns and cities in Canada where black men lived. She discovered that freedom meant more than the right to change jobs at will, more than the right to keep the money that one earned. It was the right to vote and to sit on juries. It was the right to be elected to office. In Canada there were black men who were county officials and members of school boards. St. Catharines had a large colony of ex-slaves, and they owned their own homes, kept them neat and clean and in good repair. They lived in whatever part of town they chose and sent their children to the schools.
57 When spring came she decided that she would make this small Canadian city her home—as much as any place could be said to be home to a woman who traveled from Canada to the Eastern Shore of Maryland as often as she did.
58 In the spring of 1852, she went back to Cape May, New Jersey. She spent the summer there, cooking in a hotel. That fall she returned, as usual, to Dorchester County, and brought out nine more slaves, conducting them all the way to St. Catharines, in Canada West, to the bone-biting cold, the snow-covered forests—and freedom.
59 She continued to live in this fashion, spending the winter in Canada, and the spring and summer working in Cape May, New Jersey, or in Philadelphia. She made two trips a year into slave territory, one in the fall and another in the spring. She now had a definite crystallized purpose, and in carrying it out, her life fell into a pattern which remained unchanged for the next s
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ix years. Harriet Tubman dedicated herself to rescuing enslaved people through the Underground Railroad, risking her life on every journey. The stories of her travels became legendary, as did her unyielding determination and bravery. Each trip not only brought her closer to freedom for herself and others, but also deepened her commitment to the abolitionist cause.
60 I was here in St. Catharines, she would later recall, embracing the community she helped to build. She formed lasting bonds with fellow ex-slaves and their families, creating a support network that thrived despite the harsh challenges they faced. The strength and resilience of her people inspired her; they shared their stories of suffering, hope, and survival, reinforcing her resolve to continue the fight against slavery.
61 As her understanding of the abolitionist movement deepened, she also became involved in other social issues, including women's rights. Harriet recognized that the fight for freedom went hand in hand with the struggle for equality and justice in all aspects of life. She began to attend meetings and conventions, eager to lend her voice to the cause and advocate for the rights of all oppressed individuals.
62 In the following years, her fame as a conductor of the Underground Railroad spread, drawing supporters and allies from across the nation. Abolitionists admired her courage, and her ability to navigate between the free states and the South became a beacon of hope for many. They contributed resources, money, and information, helping her refine the routes she took and the strategies she employed to ensure the safety of those she led.
63 By 1857, Harriet had conducted dozens of missions, bringing hundreds of enslaved individuals to the North. Each successful journey heightened the stakes, as slave catchers grew more vigilant and aggressive, determined to recapture escapees. News of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850—which mandated the return of escaped slaves even if they reached free states—complicated her efforts, but Harriet remained undeterred, driven by an unshakeable belief in the right to freedom.
64 Through it all, Harriet maintained her fierce independence. She refused to accept any aid or shelter that compromised her and her charges' safety. Her reputation as "Moses" became akin to a mythic tale; words of her relentless pursuit of liberty echoed throughout the communities she touched and within the broader abolitionist movement.
65 Despite the relentless danger and adversity, Harriet's spirit never faltered. She remained a force of nature, driven by her vision of a world where every person could walk free, where children would no longer know the chains of bondage. Harriet Tubman's story became a symbol of hope and courage, inspiring generations to come, as they carried on her legacy of resilience and struggle for justice.
66 Even in her twilight years, as the Civil War raged and the nation grappled with its conscience, Harriet continued to fight for civil rights, advocating for black soldiers and their contributions to the war effort. The culmination of her work would be realized with the end of slavery, but Harriet knew that true freedom was not merely the absence of chains—it was equality, justice, and dignity for every soul.
67 As the emancipation proclamation marked a turning point in American history, Harriet reflected on the arduous journey that had brought her to this moment. Each life she saved was a testament to her unyielding spirit—a reminder that, in the face of tyranny, hope and resistance can prevail.
68 And so, Harriet Tubman not only became a legendary figure of the Underground Railroad, but also an enduring icon of freedom, embodying the struggles and triumphs of those who dared to dream of a world unshackled from oppression. Her legacy lived on, a clarion call for justice, inspiring future generations to stand firm against tyranny and strive for equality, compassion, and humanity for all.
