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My second runaway trip.

About three months after my first attempt to get away, I thought I would try it again.  I went to Memphis, and saw a boat at the landing, called the John Lirozey, a Cincinnati packet.  This boat carried the mail.  She had come into port in the morning, and was being unloaded.  I went aboard in the afternoon and jumped down into the hull.  Boss had been there in the fore part of the afternoon inquiring for me, but I did not know it then.  After I had been in the boat some time, the men commenced loading it.  I crept up in the corner and hid myself.  At first two or three hundred dry and green hides were thrown in, and these hid me; but later on two or three tiers of cotton bales were put in the center of the hull, and, when the boat started, I got upon the top of these, and lay there.  I could hear the people talking above me, but it was so dark I could not see anything—­it was dark as a dungeon.  I had lain there two nights and began to get so weak and faint I could stand it no longer.  For some reason the boat did not start the day I went aboard, consequently, I had not gotten as far from home as I expected, and my privations had largely been in vain.  Despairing and hungry, on the third day, I commenced howling and screaming, hoping that some one would hear me, and come to my relief, for almost anything else would have been preferable to the privation and hunger from which I was suffering.  But I could make no one hear, at least no one paid any attention to my screams, if they did hear.  In the evening, however, one of the deck hands came in with a lantern to look around and see everything was all right.  I saw the light and followed him out, but I had been out of my hiding only a short time when I was discovered by a man who took me up stairs to the captain.  It was an effort for me to walk up stairs, as I was weak and faint, having neither eaten nor drank anything for three days.  This boat was crowded with passengers, and it was soon a scene of confusion.  I was placed in the pilot’s room for safety, until we arrived at a small town in Kentucky called Monroe.  I was put off here to be kept until the packet came back from Cincinnati.  Then I was carried back to Memphis, arriving about one o’clock at night, and, for safe keeping, was put into what was called the calaboose.  This was especially for the keeping of slaves who had run away and been caught.  Word was sent to Boss of my capture; and the next morning Thomas Bland, a fellow servant of mine, was sent to take me home.  I can not tell how I felt, for the only thought that came to me was that I should get killed.  The madam met us as we drove into the yard.  “Ah!” she said to me, “you put up at the wrong hotel, sir.”  I was taken to the barn where stocks had been prepared, beside which were a cowhide and a pail of salt water, all prepared for me.  It was terrible, but there was no escape.  I was