Never Caught

by Erica Armstrong Dunbar

  According to federal law, Staines was not free, and could be captured and returned to her owner, but Bassett knew that he had to tread lightly in a region where slavery was being reconsidered. The president had most likely warned his nephew of the difficulties he encountered when he tried to reclaim the fugitive three years prior. The Washington family must have felt as though the three years that had passed had diminished the chances of a public scandal, or that Mrs. Staines would be in such dire straits that she would want to return on her own volition. In very little time, however, Bassett Jr. realized that Mrs. Staines’s removal would be more difficult, not less. Three years of independent living had prepared her for the battle of her life.

  Stunned by her refusal, Bassett walked away from the Staines home having failed to complete the familial obligation of returning Mrs. Washington’s body servant. He understood that Northern sentiment was different, but his Southern sensibilities were stoked by the fugitive’s stubbornness. Black slaves might be able to speak disrespectfully to white men in New Hampshire, but in Virginia, this simply didn’t happen, at least not without swift correction. Bassett’s display of Southern gentility began to evaporate. Kind words and offers of freedom in Virginia had failed miserably, so he would need to regroup, contact his uncle, and wait for further instruction.

  When Bassett returned to the Langdon home after his unsuccessful attempt to claim Staines, he made clear to his host that he would not leave the fugitive in Portsmouth and that he would take her by force if necessary.

  The senator was in a difficult position. As an elected official, Langdon was to follow the laws of the land, and that included the returning of fugitives across state lines. But this was a delicate situation, one that required the senator to walk the line between federal law and the sensibilities of his state’s citizens. Langdon listened to the Virginian’s plans, and this sensitive information was relayed to Mrs. Staines. Perhaps the senator sent word to the fugitive, but it is more likely that one of the free black domestics working within the walls of the Langdon home, sent along this crucial warning. The young fugitive was told that her life was in danger.

  Something seemed amiss to the president’s nephew once he finally returned to the Staines home. He had come for the fugitive, and this time there would be no considerate persuasion. If necessary, he would take her by force. Perhaps Bassett notified a few discreet friends, men who could help contain the fugitive and her child if she resisted. He might need to tie her arms and legs and forcibly place her in the back of a wagon, a scene that he hoped to avoid but was willing to entertain if necessary. It’s almost certain that a ship was stationed in port and ready to sail directly to Alexandria, Virginia. All he needed to do was apprehend the fugitive.

  He knocked at the door, probably politely at first, and then more angrily, eventually forcing his way into the home. What he found was a lived-in residence that was empty of its occupants. Perhaps he frantically asked neighbors and townspeople if they had seen the fugitive, or maybe he put together a small search team. Whatever his response, it was too late. The Washingtons’ slave woman had disappeared.

  Yet the fugitive outmaneuvered the president and his agents once again. When she learned of Bassett’s plans to forcibly return her to Virginia, Ona Staines collected her baby girl, hired a stable boy to commandeer a horse and carriage, and made haste for Greenland, the town eight miles away from Portsmouth that had issued her marriage papers after Portsmouth officials had refused to do so. The carriage moved as quickly as possible, transporting Ona and Eliza Staines to the care of a free black family, the Jacks, who willingly agreed to harbor the fugitives.

  Bassett returned to Virginia in October of 1799, and had to deliver the unfortunate news to his aunt and uncle. He had been unsuccessful in capturing their human property. Bassett must have also informed the Washingtons that several of their beliefs about the runaway were unfounded. They now knew that their slave woman was not in the possession of a Frenchman, but that she was married with a new baby. If they found that surprising, they would have been shocked to learn that the fugitive was neither destitute nor was she willing to return to her former owners. She considered herself a free woman, and although the laws of the nation stated otherwise, she moved about her life as though her status had never been that of a slave.

  Staines’s evasion of Bassett must have angered the Washingtons, but it also reminded them of several important facts. Now that George Washington was no longer the president, they could not count upon the assistance of past friends and allies. Even close friends such as Senator Langdon could no longer be considered helpful in an attempt to capture Ona Staines. The former president and his wife would have to devise a new plan; they simply needed a bit of time to figure out the details.

  Thirteen

  * * *

  The Survivor

  Thomas H. Archibald, “Washington’s Runaway Slave,” Granite Freeman, May 22, 1845. Courtesy of the New Hampshire Historical Society.

  On December 12, 1799, the president took what was a routine horseback ride across the farms of Mount Vernon. Washington was extremely involved in the managing of farm activities, and he spent much of the day in the outdoors suffering through the changing weather that brought snow, hail, and rain. Returning home close to the dinner hour, Washington neglected to change out of his wet riding clothes. He was always a punctual man, so he chose to stay dressed in his damp clothing throughout dinner rather than take time to get more comfortable as snow continued to accumulate through the night. The president complained of a sore throat, which grew worse, eventually causing swelling around his vocal cords and a raspy voice. As the evening drew on, his throat became so inflamed that he was unable to finish his evening ritual of newspaper reading with secretary Tobias Lear. His beloved wife had to ask Lear to complete the reading on her husband’s behalf before he retired to bed.

  The president failed to sleep much as the discomfort from his throat awakened him in the early hours of the morning. Although Martha Washington wished to send for assistance, the president refused, and instead, waited until their house slave Caroline appeared to light the fireplace at daybreak before he solicited help. They sent for Tobias Lear, who discovered Washington extremely ill, struggling to breathe, and in desperate need of medical attention. Trusted friend and overseer George Rawlins arrived at the president’s bed and bled him before Dr. James Craik, a physician and longtime friend, was sent for from Alexandria. As they waited for the arrival of the doctor, family members and staff attempted to alleviate Washington’s suffering. A concoction of molasses, butter, and vinegar was given to the president to soothe his throat, but the thick mixture was almost impossible for Washington to swallow. Home remedies worsened his state, throwing him into convulsions and near suffocation.

  When Dr. Craik arrived, he bled Washington a second time and ordered a mixture of vinegar and sage tea to be administered for gargling. Dr. Craik must have sensed urgency in the president’s condition, for he sent for at least two additional physicians to assist him. A series of uncomfortable therapies was used on the president, from enemas to emetics to induce vomiting. Washington was bled one final time before everyone in his presence acknowledged that the situation was grave. He called for his wife, Martha, to come to his bedside and to bring with her two wills that were housed in his study. Washington reviewed his wills and selected the document that would define his final wishes. The president directed his wife to burn the second version of his will and then he called for Tobias Lear. Still able to speak, Washington told his faithful secretary, “I find I am going, my breath cannot last long. I believed from the first that the disorder would prove fatal. Do you arrange and record all my late military letters and papers. Arrange my accounts and settle my books, as you know more about them than anyone else, and let Mr. Rawlins finish recording my other letters which he has begun.” Late in the evening on December 14, 1799, George Washington took his last breath. Surrounding him were Martha Washington, his friends and doctors, and
four slaves.

  The major life events of white slave owners always directly impacted their slaves. Often, the death of an owner meant the sale or transfer of bondmen and bondwomen, an act that broke apart families. But with the death of George Washington, 123 slaves who lived and toiled at Mount Vernon learned that Washington’s final will would eventually emancipate them from bondage, an indication that the president had indeed struggled with the concept of slavery. His will produced a most welcomed surprise for the slaves who belonged to the Washington estate. The president had once considered the immediate emancipation of his slaves upon his demise, but later reversed his thinking. He offered several reasons why this could not happen, but he focused on the trauma that would be inflicted upon slave families at Mount Vernon. To Washington, freedom would break apart families, as more than half of the slaves on his estate were the legal property of the heirs of Daniel Parke Custis, Martha Washington’s first husband. Many of the slaves on the Mount Vernon farms had intermarried and according to the president, the immediate release of his slaves would cause “disagreeable consequences” among slave families. In essence, Washington’s slaves would be forced to leave Mount Vernon once they were set free, leaving behind wives, husbands, and children who were owned by the Custis estate and still trapped in lifelong enslavement.

  The president stipulated in his will that aged slaves, those who were unable to work or support themselves, receive assistance and that they be “comfortably clothed and fed” by the Washington heirs after their liberation took effect. Washington also mandated that younger slaves whose parents were deceased be bound out as servants until the age of twenty-five. During their servitude, they were “to be taught to read & write: and to be brought up to some useful occupation.”

  The only slave immediately emancipated in Washington’s will was the president’s faithful valet. Poor health and physical disabilities had removed William Lee from the position as a valued house slave, but a close, lengthy relationship with his owner resulted in his freedom. Washington fixated on the difficulties that could come along with immediate freedom, especially for aged slaves who were disabled, or the very young. The president gave William Lee the option of remaining enslaved at Mount Vernon, to relieve Lee of the responsibilities of independence. Washington made certain that Lee would make this important decision on his own and that in either situation, his trusted valet would have some kind of security. He offered Lee compensation, noting, “I allow him an annuity of thirty dollars during his natural life, whic[h] shall be independent of the victuals and cloaths he has been accustomed to receive.” In explaining why William Lee received something that no other slave at Mount Vernon was afforded, Washington wrote, “& this I give him as a test[im]ony of my sense of his attachment to me, and for his faithful services during the Revolutionary War.” Lee chose to remain at Mount Vernon and received his annuity on a quarterly basis, but his debilitating knee pain drove him to drink excessively. William Lee died in the winter of 1810 and was laid to rest in the slave burial ground at Mount Vernon.

  The eventual release of the rest of the president’s slaves depended upon one thing: the life of his dear wife, Martha. Washington’s bondmen and bondwomen were to be released only upon the death of their mistress, a clear indication of Washington’s desire to care for his wife even after his death. Yet the pending emancipation of Washington’s slaves made Martha Washington uneasy. The grieving widow knew that the only thing standing in the way of the freedom of more than one hundred people was her life. In conversations with relatives and friends, Mrs. Washington commented upon her uneasiness, stating that she was “unhappy by the talk in the quarters of the good time coming to the ones to be freed as soon as she died.” The former first lady confided in her friend Abigail Adams, who wrote, “She did not feel as tho her Life was safe in their Hands,” for she feared that the enslaved, “would be told that it was [in] their interest to get rid of her.” A series of suspicious events, including a fire at Mount Vernon, prompted Mrs. Washington to amend her husband’s wishes. Although he wanted to provide for his wife via the use of slave labor, Martha Washington had her own slaves, dower slaves that were greater in number and completely capable of caring for her and the estate. So the second-time widow decided that it would be best to emancipate her late husband’s slaves as soon as possible, and in December of 1800, she signed a deed of manumission to finalize her husband’s wishes. On January 1, 1801, George Washington’s slaves were set free.

  While there must have been great jubilation among the president’s slaves, the bondmen and bondwomen belonging to the Daniel Parke Custis estate were reminded of their own fate. The “dower slaves” at Mount Vernon, close to two hundred of them at the time of Washington’s death, were untouched by the president’s will, and could not be emancipated by George or Martha Washington. Indeed, upon her death the slaves of the Custis estate were to be divided among Mrs. Washington’s grandchildren.

  The newspaper reports and tributes to the life of the first president of the United States most certainly alerted the fugitive about the death of her master, but Mrs. Staines understood that this news was not a siren of freedom for her. She knew her lineage, and understood that the president’s death changed nothing about her own status. Although she had successfully escaped and lived some five hundred miles away, Mrs. Staines was still a fugitive and in some ways, a bit more vulnerable.

  With Washington gone, the heirs of the Parke Custis estate were now in charge of the dower slaves, and that could include an attempt at kidnapping the fugitive and returning her to Virginia. Even if Mrs. Washington contemplated following her husband’s example by emancipating the remaining slaves at Mount Vernon, she simply couldn’t. The reality was that Martha Washington had inherited only one third of her first husband’s estate; the remaining two thirds were to be passed down to her surviving grandchildren. The remaining slaves at Mount Vernon weren’t legally hers to liberate, even if she had been so inclined.

  In any case, the dower slaves would not have long to ponder their fate, as Martha Washington struggled with illness and lived only a few years beyond her second husband. In May of 1802, Martha Washington died, transferring the majority of her estate to her heirs. Mrs. Washington’s wishes included the sale of the majority of her property, the proceeds of which would be divided among her grandchildren. None of the dower slaves at Mount Vernon were offered their freedom. Instead, they were relocated to different farms and endured the dismantling of their fragile families. The transfer of the dower slaves to her grandchildren was not simply done out of obligation or a legal requirement, but because of the first lady’s commitment to the institution of slavery. Unlike her husband, Martha Washington left no suggestion that she was ambivalent about slavery. At the end of her life, Martha Washington held only one slave who was not a part of the dower inheritance—a man named Elish. She could have emancipated Elish upon her death, but she chose not to. Instead, Elish was willed to her grandson George Washington Parke Custis.

  The deaths of George and Martha Washington meant very little to the day-to-day actions of Ona Staines and her growing family. She continued to navigate her way through the joys of parenthood, marriage, and life outside the confines of slavery. By the turn of the nineteenth century, Ona Staines and her husband lived with their children in their own home. The fugitive and her husband became members of Portsmouth’s free black community, although her name and complete address were never recorded. While no deed or probate record exists under the name of Jack Staines, it is quite possible that the young family rented their home from an employer. Perhaps her employers rented her a small home on the fringes of their property, as was the custom with many free blacks across the North. They found lodging and employment wherever and however they could.

  When asked about her life in 1847, Mrs. Staines told a reporter from the Liberator that she had three children. Inaccurate record keeping of the early nineteenth century leaves sketchy documentation about the lives of the Staines children, but
existing records suggest that four years after the birth of Eliza Staines, the family welcomed little Nancy to their growing household, perhaps named after the ship that brought the fugitive to New Hampshire. The Staineses’ third child left behind a more mysterious trail of documentation. No death certificate or record of birth exists for the Staineses’ third child, her only son.

  It is possible that the third child of the Staines family was William Staines. As an adult, William Staines registered for a Seaman’s Protection Certificate in the government office in New York and Portland, Maine. Beginning in 1796, the Congress began to issue these certificates in order to protect American seamen from impressment on British ships. This certificate provided proof of American citizenship and offered physical descriptions of the seamen. In December of 1819, “William Stains” was nineteen years old and was prepared to sail out of New York City. The seaman was described by governmental authorities as five nine and three-quarters in height with a “light complexion.” Physical characteristics such as racial complexions included light, dark, brown, yellow, and mulatto, though this as well as other descriptive characteristics were left to the discretion of governmental authorities. In March of 1823, another description of a William Staines appeared among the Seaman’s Protection Certificates in Portland, Maine, where officials recorded him as five ten in height with a “dark dark” complexion. Both certificates in New York and Maine list the sailor’s birthplace as Portsmouth, New Hampshire, with a birth date around 1800. The only Portsmouth family with the surname of Staines belonged to Ona and her husband Jack, connecting William to the family, or at least to the patriarch. So, it’s more than likely that this young William was hers and that he was following in the shoes of his father and many other black men from northeastern seaport towns, taking to the open seas for a sustainable form of employment. And if William Staines knew the story of his mother’s escape, then he also understood that he was technically an enslaved person, a fugitive who belonged to the Parke Custis estate. It is understandable that William Staines would have purposely avoided being “counted” during the course of his lifetime and that he chose the profession of seafaring, which frequently took him to faraway places.