Fate, which occasionally plays such strange and cruel tricks in the lives
of men, presented in this instance a Machiavellian combination of opposing
forces, that was disastrous to the enterprise of the fugitives. Judson
Diggs,[3] one of their own people, a man who in all reason might have been
expected to sympathize with their effort, took upon himself the role of
Judas. Judson was a drayman and had hauled some packages to the wharf for
one of the slaves, who was without funds to pay the charge, and although he
was solemnly promised that the money should be sent him, he proceeded at
once to wreak vengeance through a betrayal of the entire party.

Even so, it would seem they might have had an excellent chance to escape,
but for the adverse winds and tides which set against them towards the
close of Sunday. They were approaching the open waters of the Bay and the
little vessel was already pitching and tossing as from the lashing of a
gale. The captain decided that it was the part of prudence to remain within
the more quiet waters of the Potomac for the night and make the open sea by
light of day. Under these circumstances they put into Cornfield Harbor and
here in the quiet hours before midnight the pursuing masters found them.

It is difficult to realize the consternation felt by the fugitives when the
noise of tramping feet and the voices of angry men broke upon their ears.
They seemed to realize at once that they were lost and many gave themselves
up to shrieks and tears until wise counsel prevailed. Captain Drayton and
his mate were immediately the storm center of the infuriated masters, many
of whom were loud in the demand that summary vengeance be wreaked upon them
and that these two at least should be hung from the yard arm. It was easily
possible that this demand might have been acceded to, had not a diversion
been caused by some of the others who were anxious to locate the slaves.

To satisfy themselves as to their safety they proceeded to break open the
hatchways when, so suddenly as to create something of a panic, Richard
Edmondson bounded on deck and in a voice of suppressed excitement
exclaimed, "Do yourselves no harm, gentlemen, for we are all here!" Richard
was young, muscular and of splendid proportions and seeing him thus by the
poor light of smoky lanterns, with flashing eyes and swinging arms, leaping
into their midst with an unknown number of others following, some of the
masters experienced a feeling