set forth in the papers, would borrow or hire them till by means of them
he could escape to a free State, and then, by mail or otherwise,
would return them to the owner. The operation was a hazardous one for
the lender as well as for the borrower. A failure on the part of
the fugitive to send back the papers would imperil his benefactor,
and the discovery of the papers in possession of the wrong man
would imperil both the fugitive and his friend. It was, therefore,
an act of supreme trust on the part of a freeman of color thus to
put in jeopardy his own liberty that another might be free. It was,
however, not unfrequently bravely done, and was seldom discovered.
I was not so fortunate as to resemble any of my free acquaintances
sufficiently to answer the description of their papers.
But I had a friend--a sailor--who owned a sailor's protection,
which answered somewhat the purpose of free papers--describing his person,
and certifying to the fact that he was a free American sailor.
The instrument had at its head the American eagle, which gave
it the appearance at once of an authorized document.
This protection, when in my hands, did not describe
its bearer very accurately. Indeed, it called for a man
much darker than myself, and close examination of it would
have caused my arrest at the start.

In order to avoid this fatal scrutiny on the part of railroad
officials, I arranged with Isaac Rolls, a Baltimore hackman,
to bring my baggage to the Philadelphia train just on the moment
of starting, and jumped upon the car myself when the train was in motion.
Had I gone into the station and offered to purchase a ticket,
I should have been instantly and carefully examined, and undoubtedly arrested.
In choosing this plan I considered the jostle of the train, and the natural
haste of the conductor, in a train crowded with passengers, and relied upon