The Bath Slave Case
Sometimes when searching for family information in newspaper archives, there’s a story that simply must be shared.
Today’s search was in the Bangor Weekly Courier. The year: 1854.
I was looking for Olympe Josephine Poulin Lambert, my great-great-great grandmother (her daughter Olive was George Vayo‘s mother). The poor woman only lived to be 35 or 36. I was hoping to at least discover her date of death and burial place.
Using the unusual first name of Olympe, the search began. Nothing. Then on to Lambert, as sometimes a woman was listed only as her husband’s wife.
And that’s where this story caught my eye. The deputy sheriff in the article carries the surname Lambert. This was a common name (probably still is) in Maine. No sons of Olympe and Joseph (a farmer) survived infancy, so we know this story doesn’t involve a direct relative.
Although the story was printed in the October 5, 1854 edition of the Bangor, Maine, newspaper, most of the article is based on happenings in Massachusetts.
The story – and the people involved – is well worth remembering:
The Bath Slave Case
The Edgartown Vineyard Gazette gives the following detailed account of the circumstances of the escape at Holmes’ Hole of the slave secreted on board the barque Franklin, bound from Jacksonville, Fla., to Bath, Me.:
After the escape of the slave from the Franklin, he landed at West Chop, and proceeded to Gay Head, where he entered a swamp and remained concealed for several days. On the 16th inst., a warrant was placed in the hands of Deputy Sheriff Lambert, who proceeded in a search for the slave. He went to Gay Head, but did not enter the swamp; indeed, he did not know, not having been informed, at least positively, that the slave was there. He however, searched in vain for the fugitive during the day, and as night came on proceeded to his home.
Just previous to, or at the very moment when the warrant was placedin the hands of Sheriff Lambert, two women emerged from the lovely village of Holmes’ Hole, and after lingering a moment in the suburbs, were furnished a vehicle, into which they entered, taking with them some food, a woman’s dress, bonnet, &c.
They had heard of the slave, and were determined to save him from capture, if possible.
After entering the vehicle, they drove with all speed to the swamp at Gay Head. On arriving there, they endeavored in vain to persuade a man to enter the swamp and inform the slave that some friends were outside, ready to convey him to a place of safety.
The women, knowing there was not a moment’s time to lose, then boldly entered the swamp – all marshy and wet, and overgrown with briars and thorns as it was – and after a short search found the slave, who endeavored to escape from them; but after being furnished with food, and learning that the heroic women were his friends ready to assist in his escape from the officer of the law, he conferred with them. The woman’s dress and bonnet were soon placed on him when they all emerged from the swamp, and jumping into the wagon, drove direct to Mauainshe Bite, and entered a boat, with a good pilot on board, which the same women had engaged to meet them at that place, before leaving Holmes’ Hole.
Hardly had the rumbling of the wheels ceased to vibrate upon the ear, or the dust to find its accustomed repose in the neighborhood of the swamp, ere deputy sheriff Lambert was at the spot but all was still and silent as the grave, save the music of the trickling water-brook, and the clear, sharp notes of the feathered warblers, which sang freedom’s sweetest, wildest song of jubilee. The sheriff was entranced, he forgot his mission, the reins fell from his hand. and he thought of nothing but nature and music and the goodness of God. When he aroused from his delightful trance, it was to discover the tracks of the carriage, and the impression of the human feet upon clay. But this discovery came too late. As he made it, the slave stept into the boat, the warp was unfastened, and the already hoisted sails filled to the breeze!
After the arrival of the boat at New Bedford, the women took the slave to the residence of an abolitionist, and arrangements were made by him, which resulted in the forwarding of the slave to Canada.
Let us have faith that was the last time that man was referred to as a slave. Here’s hoping he – and all who helped him so long ago – lived long lives, filled with blessings from above.
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