The Saturday night subsequent to our interview atthe water’s edge， Bass went home to Marksville. Thenext day， being Sunday， he employed himself in his ownroom writing letters. One he directed to the Collectorof Customs at New-York， another to Judge Marvin， andanother to Messrs. Parker and Perry jointly. The latterwas the one which led to my recovery. He subscribed mytrue name， but in the post intimated I was not thewriter. The letter itself shows that he considered himself252
engaged in a dangerous undertaking—no less thanrunning “the risk of his life， if detected.” I did not seethe letter before it was mailed， but have since obtained acopy， which is here inserted：
“Bayou Boeuf， August 15， 1852.
“Mr. WILLIAM PERRY or Mr. CEPHAS PARKER：
“Gentlemen—It having been a long time since I have seen orheard from you， and not knowing that you are living， it is withuncertainty that I write to you， but the necessity of the casemust be my excuse.
“Having been born free， just across the river from you， I amcertain you must know me， and I am here now a slave. I wishyou to obtain free papers for me， and forward them to me atMarksville， Louisiana， Parish of Avoyelles， and oblige“Yours， SOLOMON NORTHUP.
“The way I came to be a slave， I was taken sick in WashingtonCity， and was insensible for some time. When I recovered myreason， I was robbed of my free-papers， and in irons on myway to this State， and have never been able to get any one towrite for me until now； and he that is writing for me runs therisk of his life if detected.”
The allusion to myself in the work recently issued，entitled “A Key to Uncle Tom’s Cabin，” contains the firstpart of this letter， omitting the post. Neither arethe full names of the gentlemen to whom it is directedcorrectly stated， there being a slight discrepancy，probably a typographical error. To the post morethan to the body of the communication am I indebted formy liberation， as will presently be seen.
When Bass returned from Marksville he informedme of what he had done. We continued our midnightconsultations， never speaking to each other throughthe day， excepting as it was necessary about the work.
As nearly as he was able to ascertain， it would requiretwo weeks for the letter to reach Saratoga in due courseof mail， and the same length of time for an answer toreturn. Within six weeks， at the farthest， we concluded，an answer would arrive， if it arrived at all. A greatmany suggestions were now made， and a great deal ofconversation took place between us， as to the most safeand proper course to pursue on receipt of the free papers.
They would stand between him and harm， in case we wereovertaken and arrested leaving the country altogether. Itwould be no infringement of law， however much it mightprovoke individual hostility， to assist a freeman to regainhis freedom.
At the end of four weeks he was again at Marksville，but no answer had arrived. I was sorely disappointed， butstill reconciled myself with the reflection that sufficientlength of time had not yet elapsed— that there mighthave been delays—and that I could not reasonably expectone so soon. Six， seven， eight， and ten weeks passed by，however， and nothing came. I was in a fever of suspensewhenever Bass visited Marksville， and could scarcelyclose my eyes until his return. Finally my master’s housewas finished， and the time came when Bass must leaveme. The night before his departure I was wholly given up to despair. I had clung to him as a drowning manclings to the floating spar， knowing if it ships from hisgrasp he must forever sink beneath the waves. The allglorioushope， upon which I had laid such eager hold，
was crumbling to ashes in my hands. I felt as if sinkingdown， down， amidst the bitter waters of Slavery， fromthe unfathomable depths of which I should never riseagain.
The generous heart of my friend and benefactorwas touched with pity at the sight of my distress. Heendeavored to cheer me up， promising to return the daybefore Christmas， and if no intelligence was received inthe meantime， some further step would be undertaken toeffect our design. He exhorted me to keep up my spirits—to rely upon his continued efforts in my behalf， assuringme， in most earnest and impressive language， that myliberation should， from thenceforth， be the chief object ofhis thoughts.
In his absence the time passed slowly indeed. Ilooked forward to Christmas with intense anxiety andimpatience. I had about given up the expectation ofreceiving any answer to the letters. They might havemiscarried， or might have been misdirected. Perhapsthose at Saratoga， to whom they had been addressed，were all dead； perhaps， engaged in their pursuits they didnot consider the fate of an obscure， unhappy black manof sufficient importance to be noticed. My whole reliancewas in Bass. The faith I had in him was continually re255assuring me， and enabled me to stand up against the tideof disappointment that had overwhelmed me.
So wholly was I absorbed in reflecting upon mysituation and prospects， that the hands with whom Ilabored in the field often observed it. Patsey would askme if I was sick， and Uncle Abram， and Bob， and Wileyfrequently expressed a curiosity to know what I could bethinking about so steadily. But I evaded their inquirieswith some light remark， and kept my thoughts lockedclosely in my breast.
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