About nine or ten o’clock a deputation of the young ladies stole off the bride and put her to bed. In doing this it frequently happened that they had to ascend a ladder instead of a pair of stairs, leading from the dining and ball room to the loft, the floor of which was made of clapboards lying loose and without nails. This ascent, one might think, would put the bride and her attendants to the blush; but as the foot of the ladder was commonly behind the door, which was purposely opened for the occasion, and its rounds at the inner ends were well hung with hunting shirts, petticoats, and other articlesof clothing, the candles being on the opposite side of the house, the exit of the bride was noticed but by few. This done, a deputation of young men in like manner stole off the groom, and placed him snugly by the side of his bride. The dance still continued; and if seats happened to be scarce, which was often the case, every young man, when not engaged in the dance, was obliged to offer his lap as a seat for one of the girls; and the offer was sure to be accepted. In the midst of this hilarity the bride and groom were not forgotten. Pretty late in the night some one would remind the company that the new couple must stand in need of some refreshment; black Betty, which was the name of the bottle, was called for, and sent up the ladder; but sometimes black Betty did not go alone. I have many times seen as much bread, beef, pork and cabbage sent along with her, as would afford a good meal for half a dozen hungry men. The young couple were compelled to eat and drink more or less of whatever was offered them.
It often happened that some neighbors or relatives, not being asked to the wedding, took offense; and the mode of revenge adopted by them on such occasions was that of cutting off the manes, foretops and tails of the horses of the wedding company.
I will proceed to state the usual manner of settling a young couple in the world.
A spot was selected on a piece of land of one of the parents, for their habitation. A day was appointed, shortly after their marriage, for commencing the work of building their cabin. The fatigue party consisted of choppers, whose business it was to fell the trees and cutthem off at proper lengths; a man with a team for hauling them to the place and arranging them, properly assorted, at the sides and ends of the building; a carpenter, if such he might be called, whose business it was to search the woods for a proper tree for making clapboards for the roof. The tree for this purpose must be straight grained and from three to four feet in diameter. The boards were split four feet long, with a large frow, and as wide as the timber would allow. They were used without planeing or shaving. Another division was employed in getting puncheons for the floor of the cabin; this was done by splitting trees, about eighteen inches in diameter, and hewing the faces of them with a broad-axe. They were half the length of the floor they were intended to make.
The materials for the cabin were mostly prepared on the first day, and sometimes the foundation laid in the evening. The second day was allotted for the raising.
In the morning of the next day the neighbors collected for the raising. The first thing to be done was the election of four corner men, whose business it was to notch and place the logs. The rest of the company furnished them with the timbers. In the mean time the boards and puncheons were collecting for the floor and roof, so that by the time the cabin was a few rounds high the sleepers and floor began to be laid. The door was made by sawing or cutting the logs in one side so as to make an opening about three feet wide. This opening was secured by upright pieces of timber about three inches thick, through which holes were bored into the ends of the logs for the purpose of pinning them fast.A similar opening but wider was made at the end for the chimney. This was built of logs, and made large to admit of a back and jams of stone. At the square, two end logs projected a foot or eighteen inches beyond the wall to receive the butting poles, as they were called, against which the ends of the first row of clapboards was supported. The roof was formed by making the end log shorter until a single log formed the comb of the roof; on these logs the clapboards were placed, the ranges of them lapping some distance over those next below them, and kept in their places by logs, placed at proper distances upon them.
“The roof, and sometimes the floor, were finished on the same day of the raising. A third day was commonly spent by a few carpenters in leveling off the floor, making a clapboard door and table. This last was made of a spilt slab, and supported by four round legs set in auger holes. Some three legged stools were made in the same manner. Some pins stuck in the logs at the back of the house supported some clapboards which served for shelves for the table furniture. A single fork, placed with its lower end in a hole in the floor, and the upper end fastened to a joist, served for a bedstead, by placing a pole in the fork with one end through a crack between the logs of the wall. This front pole was crossed by a shorter one within the fork, with its outer end through another crack. From the front pole, through a crack between the logs of the end of the house, the boards were put on, which formed the bottom of the bed. Sometimes other poles, were pinned to the fork a little distance above these, for thepurpose of supporting the front and foot of the bed, while the walls were the supports of its back and head. A few pegs around the walls for a display of the coats of the women, and hunting shirts of the men, and two small forks or bucks’ horns to a joist for the rifle and shot pouch, completed the carpenter’s work.
“The cabin being finished, the ceremony of house-warming took place, before the young couple were permitted to move into it. The house-warming was a dance of a whole night’s continuance, made up of the relations of the bride and groom, and their neighbors. On the day following the young couple took possession of their new mansion.”
This mansion, slight, inefficient and hastily erected as it was, must have afforded but poor shelter against the severity of a season which is everywhere referred to as one of the coldest ever known. It is asserted that during the winter of 1779-80, still remembered by some as “The Hard Winter,” the wild animals were “starved and frozen in the forests, while the domestic ones fared no better in the settlements.” The rigors of the season, however, did not prevent the influx of immigration; although several families were compelled to endure its severity on their route through the wilderness from Cumberland Gap, and were even delayed in their march till the opening of the Spring. As soon however as the rivers were freed from ice and the intense cold had yielded to the softer airs of the new season, we hear of the arrival of no less than three hundred family boats at the Falls. The causes which influenced so large an immigration hither were various, not theleast among them being the security insured at this fort by the presence of Col. Clark. So entire and perfect had been the success of this gallant officer in every expedition, even against the most fearful odds, that to be under his command had come to be reckoned as holding a place among the Invincibles. Let the circumstances be what they might, it is certain that Louisville with her then population of six hundred souls, was growing to be a place worthy of high consideration, and accordingly we find that in May of this year (1780) the legislature of Virginia passed the following
“Act for establishing the town of Louisville at the Falls of Ohio.”
“Whereas, sundry inhabitants of the county of Kentucky have, at great expense and hazard, settled themselves upon certain lands at the falls of Ohio, said to be the property of John Conally, and have laid off a considerable part thereof into half acre lots for a town, and having settled thereon, have prefered petitions to this general assembly to establish the said town,Be it therefore enacted, That one thousand acres of land, being the forfeited property of said John Conally, adjoining to the lands of John Campbell and —— Taylor, be, and the same is hereby vested in John Todd Jr., Stephen Trigg, George Slaughter, John Floyd, William Pope, George Merriweather, Andrew Hines, James Sullivan and Marshall Brashiers, gentlemen, trustees, to be by them or any four of them laid off into lots of an half acre each, with convenient streets and public lots, which shall be, and the same is hereby established a town by the name of Louisville.And be it furtherenacted, That after the said lands shall be laid off into lots and streets, the said trustees or any four of them, shall proceed to sell the said lots, or so many of them as they shall judge expedient, at public auction, for the best price that can be had, the time and place of sale being advertised two months, at the court houses of adjacent counties; the purchasers respectively to hold their said lots subject to the condition of building on each a dwelling house, sixteen feet by twenty at least, with a brick or stone chimney, to be finished within two years from the day of sale. And the said trustees or any four of them shall and they are hereby empowered to convey the said lots to the purchasers thereof in fee simple, subject to the condition aforesaid, on payment of the money arising from such sale to the said trustees for the uses hereafter mentioned, that is to say: If the money arising from such sale shall amount to Thirty Dollars per acre, the whole shall be paid by the said trustees into the treasury of this commonwealth, and the overplus, if any, shall be lodged with the court of the county of Jefferson to enable them to defray the expenses of erecting the publick buildings of the said county.Provided, That the owners of lots already drawn shall be entitled to the preference therein, upon paying to the trustees the sum of thirty dollars for such half acre lot, and shall be thereafter subject to the same obligations of settling as other lot holders within the said town.And be it further enacted, That the said trustees or the major part of them shall have power, from time to time, to settle and determine all disputes concerning the bounds of the said lots, to settle such rules and ordersfor the regular building thereon as to them shall seem best and most convenient. And in case of death or removal from the county of any of the said trustees, the remaining trustees shall supply such vacancies by electing of others from time to time, who shall be vested with the same powers as those already mentioned.—And be it further enacted, That the purchasers of the lots in the said town, so soon as they shall have saved the same according to their respective deeds of conveyance, shall have and enjoy all the rights, privileges and immunities, which the freeholders and inhabitants of other towns in this state, not incorporated by charter, have, hold and enjoy.
“And be it further enacted, That if the purchaser of any lot shall fail to build thereon within the time before limited, the said trustees or a major part of them, may thereupon enter into such lot, and may either sell the same again and apply the money towards repairing the streets, or in any other way for the benefit of the said town, or appropriate such lot to publick uses for the benefit of said town.Provided, That nothing herein contained shall extend to affect or injure the title of lands claimed by John Campbell, gentleman, or those persons whose lots have been laid off on his lands, but their titles be and remain suspended until the said John Campbell shall be released from his captivity.”[1]
The survey of the town under this act, as also the second survey made by Peyton and Sullivan, have beenin some unaccountable manner destroyed. It is believed, however, that the spirit of these surveys is preserved in Jared Brooke’s plat, which was adopted in 1812. Previous to this the absence of any official document of this kind produced much annoyance, dispute and litigation, in regard to titles and boundaries. The out courses of this survey, as represented by Dr. McMurtrie, are “from 35 poles above the mouth of Beargrass Creek, on the bank of the Ohio river, S. 83, W. 35 poles to the mouth of the creek, thence N. 87, W. 120 poles, N. 50, W. 110 poles to a heap of stones and a square hole cut in the flat rock, thence (the division line) S. 88, E. 769 to a white oak, poplar and beech, N. 37, W. 390 to the beginning; no variation.” This was divided into six streets, running East and West, and twelve streets crossing these others at right angles. The squares so made were, up to Green Street, divided into lots of a little more than half an acre, and South of that into five, ten and twenty acre lots. In all the earlier proceedings of the legislature in regard to the new town we find constant mention made of public squares and grounds; and in the original plat, a slip of 180 feet South of Green Street, and running from First to Twelfth Streets, was reserved for a public promenade and pleasure ground. It is a matter of great regret that this reservation was not really made. An immense common like this, with the forest trees which were then upon it left standing, would now be an invaluable addition to the town, and would enable us to boast of having the most beautiful city in America. We cannot help but wonder that the early inhabitants of the city should havepermitted those in authority to commit this gross outrage upon taste and propriety. Had this slip continued in reserve, how beautiful might it now have become! As taste, aided by wealth, began to have its hold among the citizens, it would have been upon the fronts of this great artery that those beautiful churches, public buildings and dwellings, now scattered over so large a space, would have been erected. Here for a distance of more than a mile would have been placed a continuous range of palace-like structures; and here, under the shade of trees “the growth of quite a century” would the gay, the brave and the fair have sat, walked or rode. What a picture would have been presented here on a midsummer night, or at the close of an autumn day! Groups of merry children disporting around, gaily dressed ladies and dashing beaux, a throng of proud equipages and horsemen, the sound of the infant’s prattle, girlhood’s ringing laugh, the mingling of joyous voices, and above all and beyond all the tall and sombre forms of majestic trees raised in relief against the sky, the green carpeted earth and smiling little flowers, and all this in the very heart of a great city—all forms a picture upon which the fancy loves to dwell, and a picture which might readily have been realized had not that inordinate and purely American worship of Gain blotted it from the canvass almost before the designer had expressed it with his pencil.
Nor was a flagrant want of taste the worst feature in this. The whole of the present site of the city at that early day was intersected with ponds of stagnant water. The second bank had something of a descent towardsthe interior, and the soil, though alluvious, was of sufficient tenacity to retain the water which fell in rain. The result was that the whole of this valley from Beargrass to Salt river was filled with these ponds; and, as a necessary consequence, miasmata were bred, which produced a great deal of sickness, more especially with strangers. So great indeed was the influence thus induced that acclimation was then considered as necessary here as it now is in New Orleans or on the coast of Africa. Many of the present citizens of Louisville will be surprised to know that this very city, now so celebrated for its healthiness as to make its salubrity an inducement to immigration from all parts of the country, was once known as “the Graveyard of the Ohio.” The city worthies who took upon themselves to sell “the Slip” in lots, had at that time no data to induce them to believe in the future healthfulness of their place and yet they must have perceived the increasing prosperity of the town; hence it became almost criminal in them to put away what then seemed the only barrier to disease, and almost to invite its approaches by allowing the city to be compactly built without room for the pure and wholesome circulation of air, but shutting up, as it were, disease and death within their very walls. As the value of property began to increase, however, these gentlemen, actuated only by a desire for present gain, put aside all these considerations and, having divided the slip into four parts exposed it for sale. It comprised all that part of the city now embraced between the north side of Green and the south side of Grayson Streets, but extended, as before said, up to First Street. It is truethat great blame was attached to the trustees for their action in this matter at the time, and some movement was made toward trying to destroy the sale by legal means, this however was never actually resorted to, and possession has long since confirmed the titles to all lots lying within its limits. Thus was lost to the city one of the most valuable, if not the very most valuable of all its possessions. The earliest purchasers of this property were Messrs. Johnson, Croghan, Anderson and Campbell.
As we have already referred to the numerous ponds scattered throughout the city, it may not be improper at this point to recall the site of some of them, if only to show how completely the natural disadvantages of the place have been overcome by the energy of its inhabitants. The first and most important of these was called the “Long Pond.” It commenced at the present corner of Sixth and Market Streets, and inclining a little toward the South-West, extended as far as the old Hope Distillery, on or near Sixteenth Streets. The indentation in the ground, still observable, in the alley which commences at Seventh Street and lies between Market and Jefferson Streets, was the former bed of this pond. In the winter, when it was frozen over, this little lake was the scene of many a merry party. On the moonlight evenings, numbers of ladies and gentlemen were to be seen skimming over its surface, the gentlemen on skates and the ladies in chairs, the backs of which were laid upon the ice and the chairs fastened by ropes to the waists of the skaters. And thus they dashed along at furious speed over the glassy surface; beaux and belles,with loud voices and ringing laugh—and the merriment of the occasion was only increased when some dashing fellow, in his endeavors to surpass in agility and daring all his compeers, fell prostrate to the ice, or broke through it into the water beneath.
The next in importance to the one above referred to, was known as Gwathmey’s or Grayson’s Pond. It began on Centre Street just in the rear of the First Presbyterian church, and extended Westwardly half way to Seventh Street. Its form was that of a long elipse; and it was carefully kept by its owners for fish.—Its margin was surrounded by lofty trees and the turf grew to the very edge of the water, which, fed by some internal spring, was always clear and pure. This pond was really a beautiful spot and formed a delightful lounging-place for the idle or the meditative, and one which neither of these classes neglected. It was the scene of all the baptisms performed here in an early day, and no place could be better adapted for this purpose. Its grassy edges afforded an agreeable resting-place for the spectators, while its shape allowed every one to see, hear and partake in the exercises.
Beside these two principal lakes, there were innumerable others, some containing water only after heavy rains and others standing full at all times. Market Street from the corner of Third down was the site of one of these; Third Street between Jefferson and Green of another; Jefferson Street near the corner of Fourth of another, and so on almostad infinitum. A map of the city as it was sixty or even thirty years ago, would present somewhat the appearance of an archipelago, asea full of little islands. Whereas now, from the Woodland Garden to the foot of Fifteenth Street, a distance of nearly three miles, not one of these lakes is to be seen. It is not to be wondered at that, as the trees were removed from the surface and the face of these ponds exposed to the burning sun, they should spread the seeds of death all around them. As long as life was precarious from a hundred other causes, this one remained unnoticed, but as soon as the settlements began to be relieved from other fears for life and property, this was taken up, and in 1805 the Legislature authorised the Trustees to remove “those nuisances in such a manner as the majority of them should prescribe.” But the means in the treasury being incompetent to this purpose, any efficient action in relation to it was delayed until after the fearful epidemics of 1822 and 1823, of which we shall have occasion to speak hereafter, when the Board of Health appointed to examine into the causes of the diseases and the means of removing the same, urged the prompt and immediate removal of these ponds. The Legislature during the latter year also authorised the raising of $40,000 by lottery to be applied to draining not only the ponds in Louisville, but also all those between the town and the mouth of Salt River. Under this act these ponds were drained, but those below the city were then left untouched. Many of them however have been since removed under a recent renewal of the act.
But we have been led beyond the era of which we were speaking, and must now return, in another chapter, to the history of the town from its establishment by law in 1780.
1780—During the same year in which the town was established Kentucky received many valuable additions to its inhabitants; among these several persons of wealth or of talent came from the Atlantic States to settle among the “wild countries of the West,” and they were accompanied by many others without either of these requisites, ready at once to seek any and every means of existence. Col. George Slaughter accompanied by 150 State troops descended to the falls and took up his quarters there during this year. This accession placed the inhabitants in comparative security, but it was only comparative, for, emboldened by the knowledge that their fortress was impregnable to the attacks of their foes, men became more careless and unguarded, and the Indians were the very foe to take advantage of this fancied security; so that, as the historian of the period says, the very strength of the settlement and the security of its inhabitants “had the effect of apparently drawing the Indians into that quarter.” The fact, too, that the Ohio formed the natural boundary separating friend and foe was advantageous to the Indians. “They could approach its banks upon their own ground; they might cross it when convenient, reach the settlement, strike a blow and recross the river before a party could be collected or brought to pursue them. The river alwayspresented an object of difficulty and very often an insuperable obstacle to further pursuit. In this state of things it is no matter of surprise that soldiers were shot near the fort, or that in the settlements of Beargrass lives were lost, prisoners taken and horses stolen, with frequent impunity, or but sometimes retaliated.”[2]Connected with these predatory incursions of the Indians, a great many wonderful stories are told of “hair-breadth ’scapes by field and flood.” Histories of incidents in the Indian wars are, however, so similar in their character and so often told and widely known that we shall limit ourselves to the relation of only those that seem in their nature to demand admission here. The first of these presents one of those rare instances of magnanimity and true heroism that ever demands the attention of the chronicler. The station where Shelbyville now stands was a weak and inefficient one, and becoming alarmed by the presence of Indians in their vicinity, its inhabitants determined to remove to Beargrass. In this attempted emigration, however, they were attacked by their foes near Floyd’s Fork, defeated and scattered. Col. John Floyd, hearing of this, immediately started to their relief. In his party was Capt. Samuel Wells who had been on very unfriendly and even inimical terms with his superior officer. Arrived near the point, Col. Floyd separated his men and cautiously approached the enemy. But despite his skill and caution, he fell into an ambuscade and was in his turn defeated with great loss. He himself must have fallen into the hands of the victors but for the magnanimity of Wells. Floydhad dismounted and was nearly exhausted, being closely pursued, when Wells, who had not quitted his horse, rode up and dismounting, helped his old enemy into the saddle and running by his side, supported and protected him till out of the reach of danger. This noble and generous action resulted in the fast and lasting friendship of the two men.
Another incident will show the education, even in boyhood, which the nature of the times demanded. Four young lads, two of them named Linn, accompanied by Wells and Brashears, went on a hunting party to a pond about six miles South-West of Louisville. They succeeded well in their sport, having killed among other game, a small cub bear. While they were assisting the elder Linn to strap the bear on his shoulders, and had laid down their guns, they were surprised by a party of Indians, and hurried over to the White river towns, where they remained in captivity several months. One of the party had in the mean time been carried to another town; and late in the fall the remaining three determined to effect their escape. When night had come, they rose quietly, and having stunned the old squaw, in whose hut they were living, by repeated blows with a small axe, they stole out of the lodge and started for Louisville. After daybreak, they concealed themselves in a hollow log, where they were frequently passed by the Indians who were near them everywhere; and at night they resumed their march, guided only by the stars and their knowledge of woodcraft. After several days, during which they subsisted on the game they could procure, they reached the river at Jeffersonville.Arrived here they halooed for their friends, but did not succeed in making themselves heard. They had however no time to lose; the Indians were behind them and if they were retaken, they knew their doom. Accordingly, as two of them could not swim, they constructed a raft of the drift-logs about the shore and tied it together with grape vines, and the two launched upon it, while Brashears plunged into the water, pushing the raft with one hand and swimming with the other. Before they had arrived at the other shore, and when their raft was in a sinking condition from having taken up so much water, they were descried from this side, and boats went out and returned them safely to their friends.[3]
Only a few months ago, some gentlemen traveling near the south-eastern boundary of the city, discovered in an old tree the name ofD. Booneand the date 1779, appended. Considering this a great curiosity, one of them removed it from the tree and attempted to confirm the authenticity of the date by counting the circles in the wood of the tree. Finding these to agree with the date marked, he carefully preserved the block containing this record, which is now to be seen in the library of the Kentucky Historical Society. This circumstance is mentioned here only still further to confirm the authenticity of this block by stating a similar case which occurred in 1811. In the spring of 1779, Squire Boone, the brother of Daniel, in company with two others, went from the falls to Bullitt’s Lick to shoot buffalo. After finishing their sport, they were returning home, when night overtook them at Stewart’s Spring. The youngmen proposed to remain here for the night, but Boone objected, fearing an attack from the Indians. They accordingly turned off some 300 yards to the West, where they encamped for the night. There, while Boone and another of the party were arranging for the encampment, the third, being idle, amused himself by cutting a name and a few words on the bark of the tree. Afterwards, in 1811, during some legal investigation about lands, Boone testified to the existence of these marks near Stewart’s Spring, and upon examination they were found just as he had stated, although 32 years had elapsed since the cut was made. This fact is placed upon record in the Court of Appeals and does not admit of a doubt. The instance before referred to is of a precisely similar character, and the marks are probably equally authentic as those of the last.
It would be easy to relate numerous instances, similar to those already given, both as to the wonderful skill of the pioneers in woodcraft, and their daring, danger and miraculous escapes in the Indian fights, but, as has already been said, these anecdotes, often incorrect, and always difficult to narrate without embellishment, are so familiar to the majority of readers, and possess such similarity of outline that they would be interesting here only to those who have some personal knowledge of the actors in those scenes. There will be occasion hereafter, in speaking of some of the distinguished men of another period of this history, to refer again to subjects kindred to those above narrated.
In May of this year, still 1780, the Legislature of Virginia, on account of the difficulties attending the properadministration of justice, and for other similar causes occasioned by the sparseness of the settlements in so large an extent of territory, passed an act dividing the county of Kentucky into three counties. Of these, the first was thus defined: “All that part of the South side of the Kentucky river which lies West and North of a line beginning at the mouth of Benson’s Big Creek and running up the same and its main fork to the head, thence South to the nearest waters of Hammond’s Creek, and down the same to its junction with the town fork of Salt river, thence South to Green river and down the same to its junction with the Ohio;” and was ordered to be known by the name of Jefferson. The other two counties were called Fayette and Lincoln.
Beside this there were few occurrences worthy of note during the year, which bear directly upon the subject of this history. Col. Clark had not only made his successful expedition against Pickway, but had built Fort Jefferson, five miles below the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers and in the territory of the Chickasaws, thus adding that tribe to the already numerous foes of his adopted State. It was however soon evacuated and this evacuation accepted and acted upon by both parties as a tacit treaty of peace.
Early in the next year—1781—Col. Clark received his commission as Brigadier General. He now began to feel the necessity for some new display of activity in defending the frontier and accordingly he built a sort of row-galley upon which he placed some four-pound cannon. This galley was kept plying between the Falls and the mouth of Licking, and is by some believed tohave been of very great service in keeping off the attacks of the Indians; while others are of opinion that it was entirely valueless. Be that as it may; the galley was abandoned by the General before the close of the year. The Indians are said never to have attacked it and but seldom to have crossed that part of the river in which it moved. Various as are the opinions in regard to the utility of Clark’s barge, the fact of its having been so soon abandoned by the very projectors of the enterprise certainly does not speak much in its favor.
Another of the most important features of this year, perhaps indeed the very most important, was one which will now produce a smile. At that time, however, it was a subject of serious congratulation to the inhabitants of the new country. This was no less than the large immigration of young unmarried women into this region, abounding in young unmarried men. One of the historians of the time, in chronicling this event, remarks, with all the soberness and propriety due to the most solemn subject, that “the necessary consequence of this large influx of girls was the rapid and wonderful increase of population.” Whether this increase was produced by purely natural means or by foreign immigration is left by him in the profoundest doubt. Perhaps that worthy individual known as “The Oldest Inhabitant” could elucidate this point.
The only other circumstance worthy of notice during the year, was the building at the falls of a new fort. History gives us no information either as to the name or location of this position of defense. Its very name and history is swallowed up in that of Fort Nelsonwhich must have been built very soon after, if it was not commenced at the same time as this nameless fort.
Fort Nelson was built in 1782 by the regular troops, assisted by all the militia of the State. It was situated between Sixth and Eighth Streets on the North side of Main, immediately upon the “second bank” of the river. Its name was derived, as some say from Capt. Nelson, an influential citizen of Louisville in that day, but more probably was named in honor of the third republican governor of Virginia. It contained about an acre of ground and was surrounded by a ditch eight feet wide and ten feet deep, intersected in the middle by a sharp row of pickets. This ditch was surmounted by a breast work of log pens filled with the earth obtained from the ditch, with pickets ten feet high planted on the top of the breast work. Next to the river, pickets were deemed sufficient, aided by the long slope of the bank. There was artillery likewise in the fort. Col. Slaughter had brought with him several very small cannon, and Gen. Clark had placed here a double fortified six-pounder, which he had captured at Vincennes. This last piece played no inconsiderable part both in the previous and subsequent expeditions of this General. The present site of Seventh Street passed directly through the gate of the fort opposite the head quarters of Gen. Clark. The pickets and various other parts of this fort have been from time to time, since 1830, dug up in excavating cellars at the place formerly occupied by the post. Many of the pickets thus excavated have been made into walking canes and are valued as memorials of the past.
This year was perhaps one of the most disastrousand dreadful in the annals of Kentucky. Although the settlements at the Falls were comparatively free from danger of attack, yet the older stations were suffering all the horrors of a bloody war. Several white men, impelled either by a love of the licentiousness and freedom from restraint of the savage life or by fear of punishment for their crimes, had united themselves with the Indians and constantly urged them against the Whites. The most celebrated of these were Girty and McKee, who had risen to a commanding rank among the red men, and their knowledge of the settlements enabled them to direct their new friends in all their expeditions. Previous to the great battle in which these renegadoes figured so largely, was the defeat and death of Captain Estill on Hinckston’s Fork of Licking and also a bloody fight at or near Hoy’s station. The great battle of the year however was at Blue Licks, and it was here that these renegadoes, whose names deserve and will receive perpetual execration, were successful. The result of this battle is well known to all readers of western history. Its effect upon the inhabitants of the new State was disheartening in the extreme. Gen. Clark, who was still at the Falls, seeing the necessity for rousing the people from their despondence and desirous of punishing the foe, proposed to a council of officers an expedition against the Indian towns on Miami and Scioto. And accordingly nearly one thousand men made rendezvous at the mouth of Licking and started for the towns. The Indians discovered their approach too soon for anything like a decisive battle, and they found only deserted towns and straggling Indians on their march. Theresult of this invasion however convinced both sides of the superiority of the Whites, and restored the drooping spirits in the settlements. After this expedition the country remained quiet during the year, nor did any considerable party of Indians ever again invade the State.
In the winter of this year commenced the first of anything like intercourse between this part of the Ohio and New Orleans. Messrs. Tardiveau and Honore, the latter of whom resided in this city until within a few years, made the earliest trip from Brownsville to that port, and subsequently continued to make regular trips from Louisville to the French and Spanish ports on the Mississippi. Even previous to this, Col. Richard Taylor and his brother Hancock Taylor, had descended from Pittsburg to the mouth of the Yazoo; and Messrs. Gibson and Linn, in 1776, had made a trip from Pittsburg to New Orleans with a view to procuring military stores for the troops stationed at the former place. These gentlemen succeeded in their expedition, having obtained 156 kegs of powder, which arrived at the Falls in 1777, was carried around them by hand, and finally delivered at Pittsburg.
These early attempts at navigation were soon succeeded by the constant and regular trips of the Barges. Perhaps the most stirring and exciting scenes of western adventure were connected with the voyages of these peculiar craft. The bargemen were a distinct class of people whose fearlessness of character, recklessness of habits and laxity of morals rendered them a marked people. Their history will hereafter form the groundwork of many a heroic romance or epic poem. In theearlier stages of this sort of navigation, their trips were dangerous, not only on account of the Indians whose hunting-grounds bounded their track on either side, but also because the shores of both rivers were infested with organized banditti, who sought every occasion to rob and murder the owners of these boats. Beside all this the Spanish Government had forbidden the navigation of the lower Mississippi by the Americans, and thus, hedged in every way by danger, it became these boatmen to cultivate all the hardihood and wiliness of the Pioneer, while it led them also into the possession of that recklessness and independent freedom of manner, which even after the causes that produced it had ceased, still clung to and formed an integral part of the character of the Western Bargeman. It is a matter of no little surprise that something like an authentic history of these wonderful men has never been written. Certainly it is desirable to preserve such a history, and no book could have been undertaken which would be likely to produce more both of pleasure and profit to the writer and none which would meet with a larger circle of delighted readers. The traditions on the subject are, even at this recent period, so vague and contradictory that it would be difficult to procure anything like reliable or authentic data in regard to them. No story in which the bargemen figure is too improbable to be narrated, nor can one determine what particular person is the hero of an incident which is in turn laid at the door of each distinguished member of the whole fraternity. Some of these incidents however will serve so well to give an idea of the peculiar characteristics of the bargemen,and possess so much merit in themselves, that they cannot be omitted here. Previous to referring to any of these anecdotes, however, it may be interesting to introduce the following excellent description of the manner of navigating the Ohio and Mississippi prior to the introduction of steamboats. It is from the pen of Audubon, the celebrated ornithologist, whose death has been recently announced and has caused a feeling of deep regret in all who know how to admire that union of simple goodness of character with greatness of mind and untiring energy of study, which he, perhaps more than any other American, possessed.
“The keelboats and barges were employed,” says this extract, “in conveying produce of different kinds, such as lead, flour, pork and other articles. These returned laden with sugar, coffee and dry goods, suited for the markets of Genevieve and St. Louis on the upper Mississippi or branched off and ascended the Ohio to the foot of the falls at Louisville. A keelboat was generally manned by ten hands, principally Canadian French, and a patroon or master. These boats seldom carried more than from twenty to thirty tons. The barges had frequently forty or fifty men, with a patroon, and carried fifty or sixty tons. Both these kind of vessels were provided with a mast, a square sail, and coils of cordage known by the name of cordelles. Each boat or barge carried its own provisions. We shall suppose one of these boats under way, and, having passed Natchez, entering upon what were called the difficulties of their ascent. Wherever a point projected so as to render the course or bend below it of some magnitude, there wasan eddy, the returning current of which was sometimes as strong as that of the middle of the great stream. The bargemen, therefore, rowed up pretty close under the bank, and had merely to keep watch in the bow lest the boat should run against a planter or sawyer. But the boat has reached the point, and there the current is to all appearance of double strength and right against it. The men, who have rested a few minutes, are ordered to take their stations and lay hold of their oars, for the river must be crossed, it being seldom possible to double such a point and proceed along the same shore. The boat is crossing, its head slanting to the current, which is, however, too strong for the rowers, and when the other side of the river has been reached, it has drifted perhaps a quarter of a mile. The men are by this time exhausted, and, as we shall suppose it to be 12 o’clock, fasten the boat to a tree on the shore. A small glass of whiskey is given to each, when they cook and eat their dinner, and after resting from their fatigue for an hour, re-commence their labors. The boat is again seen slowly advancing against the stream. It has reached the lower end of a sandbar, along the edge of which it is propelled by means of long poles, if the bottom be hard. Two men, called bowsmen, remain at the prow to assist, in concert with the steersman, in managing the boat and keeping its head right against the current. The rest place themselves on the land side of the footway of the vessel, put one end of their poles on the ground and the other against their shoulders and push with all their might. As each of the men reaches the stern, he crosses to the other side, runs along it andcomes again to the landward side of the bow, when he re-commences operations. The barge in the mean time is ascending at a rate not exceeding one mile in the hour.
“The bar is at length passed, and as the shore in sight is straight on both sides and the current uniformly strong, the poles are laid aside, and the men being equally divided, those on the river side take to their oars, while those on the land-side lay hold of the branches of willows or other trees, and thus slowly propel the boat. Here and there, however, the trunk of a fallen tree, partly lying on the bank and partly projecting beyond it, impedes their progress and requires to be doubled. This is performed by striking into it the iron points of the poles and gaff-hooks, and so pulling around it. The sun is now quite low, and the barge is again secured in the best harbor within reach for the night, after having accomplished a distance of perhaps fifteen miles. The next day the wind proves favorable, the sail is set, the boat takes all advantages, and, meeting with no accident, has ascended thirty miles—perhaps double that distance. The next day comes with a very different aspect. The wind is right ahead, the shores are without trees of any kind, and the canes on the bank are so thick and stout that not even the cordelles can be used. This occasions a halt. The time is not altogether lost, as most of the men, being provided with rifles, betake themselves to the woods and search for the deer, the bears or the turkeys that are generally abundant there. Three days may pass before the wind changes, and the advantages gained on the previous five days are forgotten. Again the boat proceeds, but in passing over a shallow place,runs on a log, swings with the current, but hangs fast with her lea-side almost under water. Now for the poles! all hands are on deck, bustling and pushing. At length, towards sunset, the boat is once more afloat, and is again taken to the shore where the wearied crew pass another night.
“I could tell you of the crew abandoning the boat and cargo and of numberless accidents and perils, but be it enough to say, that advancing in this tardy manner, the boat that left New Orleans on the 1st of March, often did not reach the Falls of Ohio until the month of July, sometimes not until October; and after all this immense trouble, it brought only a few bags of coffee and at most one hundred hogsheads of sugar. Such was the state of things as late as 1808. The number of barges at that period did not amount to more than 25 or 30, and the largest probably did not exceed one hundred tons burden. To make the best of this fatiguing navigation, I may conclude by saying that a barge which came up in three months, had done wonders, for I believe few voyages were performed in that time.”
In this little history, Mr. Audubon has said nothing of what was by far the most “dangerous danger” to which the crews of these craft were exposed. This was the attack, open and fearless as well as sneaking and treacherous, of the Boatwreckers. The country on both sides of the river from Louisville to the mouth of the Ohio was an almost unpeopled wilderness. On the north side of the river from Fort Massac to the Mississippi, there lived a gang of these desperadoes, whose exploits need only the genius of a Schiller to render themthe wonder of the world and the admiration of those who love to gloat over tales of blood. There was an impudence and recklessness of life and of danger connected with these fellows, coupled with a dash of spirit and humor, that would render them excellentmaterielin the hands of a skillful novelist; but they lacked that high sense of honor and that gentlemanly bearing which made heroes of the robbers of the Rhine, of Venice or of Mexico.
Their plan of action was to induce the crew of the passing “broad-horn” to land, to play a game of cards, (the favorite passion of the boatmen) and to cheat them unmercifully. If this scheme failed, they would pilot the boats into a difficult place, or, in pretended friendship, give them from the shores such directions as would not fail to run them on a snag or dash them to pieces against some hidden obstruction. If they were outwitted in all this, they would creep into the boats as they were tied up at night, and bore holes in the bottom or dig out the caulking. When the boat was sinking, they would get out their skiffs and craft of all kinds, and in the most philanthropic manner come to save the goods from the wreck. And save them they did, for they would row them up the little creeks that led from swamps in the interior and no trace of them could afterwards be seen. Or if some hardy fellow dared to go in pursuit of hissavedcargo, he was sure to find an unknown grave in the morasses.
One of the most famous of these boatwreckers was Col. Fluger of New Hampshire, who is better known in the West as Col. Plug. This worthy gentleman longheld undisputed sway over the quiet boatwreckers about the mouth of Cash Creek. He was supposed to possess keys to every warehouse between that place and Louisville, and to have used them for his own private purposes on many occasions. He was a married man and became the father of a family. His wife’s soubriquet was Pluggy and like many others of her sex, her charms were a sore affliction to the Colonel’s peace of mind. Plug’s lieutenant was by him suspected of undue familiarity with Mrs. Col. Plug. The Colonel’s nice sense of honor was outraged, his family pride aroused—he called Lieutenant Nine-Eyes to the field.
“Dern your soul,” said he, “do you think this sort of candlestick ammer (clandestine amour he meant,) will pass? If you do, by gosh, I will put it to you or you shall put it to me.”
They used rifles, the ground was measured, the affair settled in the most proper and approved style. And they did put it to each other. Each received a ball in some fleshy part, and each admitted that “he was satisfied.”
“You are all grit!” said Col. Plug.
“And you waded in like a raal Kaintuck,” rejoined Nine-Eyes.
Col. Plug’s son and heir, who very possibly was the real subject-matter of dispute, and who was upon the ground, was ordered to place a bottle of whisky midway between the disputants. Up to this they limped and over it they embraced, swearing that “they were too well used to these things to be phazed by a little cold lead;” and Pluggy’s virtue having been thus proved immaculate,the duel as well as the animosity of the parties ceased. Col. Plug, man of honor as he was, sometimes met with very rough treatment from the boatmen, whose half savage natures could ill appreciate a gentleman of his birth and breeding. An instance of this is recorded by the same historian upon whom we have drawn for the greater part of the above account of the duel.[4]A broad-horn from Louisville had received rough usage from Plug’s men the year before, and accordingly, on their next descent, they laid their scheme of revenge. Several of their crew left the boat before arriving at Plug’s domain, and quietly stole down the river bank to its place of landing. The boat with its small crew was quietly harbored, the men hospitably received and invited to sit down to a game of cards. They were scarcely seated and had placed their money before them, when Plug’s signal whistle for an onset sounded in their ears. The reserve corps of boatmen also heard it, knew its import and rushed to the rescue. The battle was quickly over. Three of Plug’s men were thrown into the river and the rest fled, leaving their brave commander on the field. Resistance did not avail him. Those ruthless boatmen stripped him to the skin, and forcing him to embrace a sapling about the size of his dear Pluggy’s waist, they bound him immovably in this loving squeeze. Then seizing the cowhide each applied it till he was tired, and so they left him alone with his troublesome thoughts and with a yet more troublesome and sanguinary host of musquitoes, which, lured by the ease with which they could now get a full meal of that blood whichhad before been effectually preserved from their attacks by a thick epidermis, sallied forth to the feast by myriads. Pluggy, finding her bower lonely without its lord, came forth to seek him. Closely embracing the tree and covered from any immodest exposure of his person by a gauzy cloud of musquito wings, she found him. Clasping her hands, with a Siddons-like start and air, she cried, in her peculiarly elegant but somewhat un-English dialect: “Yasu Cree! O carissimo sposo, what for, like von dem fool, you hug zat tree and let ze marengoes eat up all your sweet brud?”
The historian is pained to record that all the answer she obtained to this tender solicitude was a curse. Plug cursed her, but Plug’s evil spirit was aroused. Let the reader suppose himself in Plug’s position and he will not blame that gentleman for the ungenerous reply that forced itself to his lips.
Not very long after this, Col. Plug came to his untimely end. Just as a squall was coming up, Col. Plug was in a boat whose crew had left it for an hour or so, engaged in the exercise of his profession; that is, he was digging the caulking out of the bottom, when the squall came on rather prematurely and broke the fastenings of the boat. It began to sink, and Col. Plug after vain endeavors to reach the shore, sank with it and was seen no more. Whether Pluggy still bewails her lost lord or has followed him in sorrow to the other shore, history does not tell us.
This sketch of the character of the boat wreckers will prepare the reader for forming some idea of the boatmen who were their prey. Among the most celebrated ofthese, every reader of western history will at once rememberMike Fink, the hero of his class. So many and so marvellous are the stories told of this man that numbers of persons are inclined altogether to disbelieve his existence. That he did live however does not admit of a doubt. Many are yet living who knew him personally. As it is to him that all the more remarkable stories of western river adventure are attributed, his history will form the only example here given to illustrate the character of the western bargemen. It is however necessary to observe, that while Mike possessed all the characteristics of his class, a history of the various adventures attributed to him would present these characteristics in an exaggerated degree. Even the slight sketch here drawn cannot pretend to authenticity; for, aside from the fact, that, like other heroes, Mike has suffered from the exuberant fancy of his historians, he has also had in his own person to atone to posterity for many acts which never came from under his hand and seal. As the representative, however, of an extinct class of men, his ashes will not rise in indignation even if he is again made the “hero of fields his valor never won.”
Mike Fink was born in or near Pittsburg, where certain of his relatives still reside. In his earlier life he acted in the capacity of an Indian spy, and won great renown for himself by the wonderful facility with which, while yet a boy, he gained a knowledge of every act and movement of the foe. But while in the exercise of this calling, the free, wild and adventurous life of the boatmen attracted his youthful fancy, and the enchanting music of the boat-horn soon lured him away from Pittsburg totry his fortunes on the broad Ohio. He had learned to mimic all the tones of the boatman’s horn, and he longed to go to New Orleans where he heard that the people spoke French and wore their Sunday clothes every day. He went, and from an humble pupil in his profession soon became a glorious master. When the river was too low to be navigable, Mike spent his time in the practice of rifle-shooting, then so eminently useful and desirable an accomplishment; and in this, as in all his serious undertakings, he soon surpassed his compeers. His skill with the rifle was so universally acknowledged, that whenever Mike was present at a Shooting-Match for Beef, such as were then of common occurrence all over the country, he was always allowed the fifth quarter, i. e. the hide and the tallow, without a shot. This was a perquisite of Mike’s skill, and one which he always claimed, always obtained and always sold for whisky with which to “treat the crowd.” His capacity as a drinker was enormous; he could drink a gallon in twenty-four hours without its effect being perceptible in his language or demeanor. Mike was a bit of a wag, too, and had a singular way of enforcing his jests. He used to say that he told his jokes on purpose to be laughed at, and no man should “make light” of them. The consequence was, that whoever had the temerity to refuse a laugh where Mike intended to raise one, received a sound drubbing and an admonition for the future, which was seldom neglected. His practical jokes, for so he and his associates called their predations on the inhabitants of the shores along which they passed, were always characterized by a boldness of design and a sagacity ofexecution that showed no mean talent on Mike’s part. One of the most ingenious of these tricks, and one which affords a fair idea of the spirit of them all, is told as follows: Passing slowly down the river, Mike observed a very large and beautiful flock of sheep grazing on the shore, and being in want of fresh provisions, but scorning to buy them, Mike hit upon the following expedient. He noticed that there was an eddy near to the shore, and, as it was about dusk, he landed his boat in the eddy and tied her fast. In his cargo there were some bladders of scotch-snuff. Mike opened one of these and taking out a handful of the contents, he went ashore and catching five or six of the sheep, rubbed their faces very thoroughly with the snuff. He then returned to his boat and sent one of his men in a great hurry to the sheep-owner’s house to tell him that he “had better come down and see what was the matter with his sheep.” Upon coming down hastily in answer to Mike’s summons, the gentleman saw a portion of his flock very singularly affected; leaping, bleating, rubbing their noses against the ground and against each other, and performing all manner of undignified and unsheeplike antics. The gentleman was sorely puzzled and demanded of Mike “if he knew what was the matter with the sheep.”
“You don’t know?” answered Mike very gravely.
“I do not,” replied the gentleman.
“Did you ever hear of the black murrain?” asked Mike in a confidential whisper.
“Yes,” said the sheep owner in a terrified reply.
“Well, that’s it!” said Mike. “All the sheep upriver’s got it dreadful. Dyin’ like rotten dogs—hundreds a day.”
“You don’t say so,” answered the victim, “and is there no cure for it?”
“Only one as I knows on,” was the reply. “You see the murrain’s dreadful catchin’, and ef you don’t git them away as is got it, they’ll kill the whole flock. Better shoot ’em right-off; they’ve got to die any way.”
“But no man could single out the infected sheep and shoot them from among the flock,” said the gentleman.
“My name’s Mike Fink!” was the curt reply.
And it was answer enough. The gentleman begged Mike to shoot the infected sheep and throw them into the river. This was exactly what Mike wanted, but he pretended to resist. “It mought be a mistake,” he said; “they’ll may be git well. He didn’t like to shoot Manny’s sheep on his own say so. He’d better go an’ ask some of the neighbors ef it was the murrain sure ’nuf.” The gentleman insisted, and Mike modestly resisted, until finally he was promised a couple of gallons of old Peach Brandy if he would comply. His scruples thus finally overcome, Mike shot the sheep, threw them into the eddy and got the brandy. After dark, the men jumped into the water, hauled the sheep aboard, and by daylight had them neatly packed away and were gliding merrily down the stream.[5]
Another story, of a rather different character, is told to illustrate the recklessness of the man. It occurred on the Mississippi river. A negro had come down to thebank to gaze at the passing boat, who had the singularly projecting heel peculiar to some races of Africans. This peculiarity caught Mike’s eye, and so far outraged his ideas of symmetry that he determined to correct it. Accordingly he raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired, carrying away the offensive projection. The negro fell crying murder, believing himself mortally wounded. Mike was apprehended for this trick, at St. Louis, and found guilty, but we do not hear of the infliction of any punishment. A writer in the Western Monthly Review for July, 1829, in a letter to the editor of that magazine, asserts that he has himself seen the records of this case in the books of the court, and that Mike’s only defense was that “the fellow couldn’t wear a genteel boot and he wanted to fix it so that he could.”
One of his feats with the rifle which Mike most loved to boast of occurred somewhere in Indiana. Mike’s boat was lying to, from some cause, and he had gone ashore in pursuit of game. “As he was creeping along with the stealthy tread of a cat, his eye fell upon a beautiful buck, browsing on the edge of a barren spot a little distance off. Repriming his gun and picking his flint, Mike made his approach in his usual noiseless manner. At the moment he reached the spot from which he meant to take aim, he observed a large Indian intent upon the same object, advancing from a direction little different from his own. Mike shrank behind a tree with the quickness of thought, and keeping his eye fixed upon the hunter, waited the result with patience. In a few moments the Indian halted within fifty paces and leveled his piece at the deer. Instantly Mike presented hisrifle at the body of the savage, and at the moment smoke issued from the gun of the latter, the bullet of Fink passed through the red man’s breast. He uttered a yell and fell dead at the same instant with the deer. Mike re-loaded his rifle and remained in covert some minutes to ascertain whether any more enemies were at hand. He then stepped up to the prostrate savage, and having satisfied himself that life was extinct, turned his attention to the buck, took from the carcass the pieces suited to jerking and retraced his steps in high glee to the boat.”[6]He used to say that was what he called “killing two birds with one stone.”
In all his little tricks, as Mike called them, he never displayed any very accurate respect to the laws either of propriety or property, but he was so ingenious in his predations that it is impossible not to laugh at his crimes. The stern rigor of Justice, however, did not feel disposed to laugh at Mike, but on the contrary offered a reward for his capture. For a long time Mike fought shy and could not be taken, until an old friend of his, who happened to be a constable, came to his boat when she was moored at Louisville and represented to Mike the poverty of his family; and, presuming on Mike’s known kindness of disposition, urged him to allow himself to be taken, and so procure for his friend the promised reward. He showed Mike the many chances of escape from conviction, and withal plead so strongly that Mike’s kind heart at last overcame him and he consented—but upon one condition! He felt at home nowhere but in his boat and among his men: letthem take him and his men in the yawl and they would go. It was the only hope of procuring his appearance at court and the constable consented. Accordingly a long-coupled wagon was procured, and with oxen attached it went down the hill, at Third Street for Mike’s yawl. The road, for it was not then a street, was very steep and very muddy at this point. Regardless of this, however, the boat was set upon the wagon, and Mike and his men, with their long poles ready, as if for an aquatic excursion, were put aboard, Mike in the stern. By dint of laborious dragging the wagon had attained half the height of the hill, when out shouted the stentorian voice of Mike calling to his men—Set Poles!—and the end of every long pole was set firmly in the thick mud—Back Her!—roared Mike, and down the hill again went wagon, yawl, men and oxen. Mike had been revolving the matter in his mind and had concluded that it was best not to go; and well knowing that each of his men was equal to a moderately strong ox, he had at once conceived and executed this retrograde movement. Once at the bottom, another parley was held and Mike was again overpowered. This time they had almost reached the top of the hill, whenSet poles!—Back her!was again ordered and again executed. A third attempt, however, was successful, and Mike reached the court house in safety; and, as his friend, the constable, had endeavored to induce him to believe, he was acquitted for lack of sufficient evidence. Other indictments, however, were found against him, but Mike preferred not to wait to hear them tried; so, at a given signal he and his men boarded their craft again andstood ready to weigh anchor. The dread of the long poles in the hands of Mike’s men prevented thepossefrom urging any serious remonstrance against his departure. And off they started with poles “tossed.” As they left the court house yard Mike waved his red bandanna, which he had fixed on one of the poles, and promising to “call again” was borne back to his element and launched once more upon the waters.
After the introduction of steamboats on the Western rivers, Mike’s occupation was gone. He could not consent, however, altogether to quit his free, wild life of adventure; and accordingly in 1822, he, together with Carpenter and Talbot, who were his firmest friends, joined Henry and Ashley’s company of Missouri trappers, and with this company they proceeded in the same year up to the mouth of the Yellow Stone river. Here a fort was built and from this point parties of hunters were sent out in all directions. Mike with his two friends and nine others formed one of these parties, and preferring to live to themselves, they dug a hole in the river bluff and here spent the winter. While here, Mike Fink and Carpenter had a fierce quarrel, caused probably by rivalry in the favors of a certain squaw. Previous to this time the friendship of these two men had been unbounded. Carpenter was equally as good a shot as Mike and it had been their custom to place a tin cup of whisky on each other’s head by turns and shoot it off at the distance of seventy yards with their rifles. This feat they had often performed and always successfully.
After the quarrel, and when spring had returned, they re-visited the fort and over a cup of whisky they talkedover their difficulty and rendered their vows of amity, which were to be ratified by the usual trial of shooting at the cup. They “skyed a copper” for the first shot and Mike won it. Carpenter, who knew Mike thoroughly, declared he was going to be killed, but scorned to refuse the test. He prepared himself for the worst. He bequeathed his gun, pistols, wages, &c., to Talbot, in case he should be killed. They went to the field, and while Mike loaded his gun and prepared for the shot, Carpenter filled a tin cup to the brim, and, without moving a feature, placed it on his devoted head. At this target Mike levelled his piece. After fixing his aim, however, he took down his gun, and laughingly cried, “Hold your noddle steady, Carpenter, and don’t spill the whisky, for I shall want some presently.” Then raising his rifle again, he pulled the trigger, and in an instant Carpenter fell and expired without a groan. The ball had penetrated the center of his forehead about an inch and a half above the eyes. Mike coolly set down his rifle and blew the smoke out of it, keeping his eye fixed on the prostrate body of his quondam friend. “Carpenter,” said he, “have you spilt the whisky?” He was told that he had killed Carpenter. “It is all an accident,” said he, “I took as fair a bead on the black spot on the cup as ever I took on a squirrel’s eye. How could it happen?” And he fell to cursing powder, gun, bullet and himself.
In the wild country where they then were, the hand of justice could not reach Mike and he went unmolested. But Talbot had determined to avenge Carpenter, and one day, after several months had elapsed, when Mike,in a drunken fit of boasting, swore in Talbot’s presence that he had killed Carpenter intentionally and that he was glad of it, Talbot drew out one of the pistols which had been left him by the murdered man and shot Mike through the heart. In less than four months after this Talbot was himself drowned in attempting to swim the Titan river, and with him perished “the last of the boatmen.”
Mike Fink’s person is thus described by the writer in the Western Monthly before referred to. “His weight was about 180 pounds; height about five feet, nine inches; broad, round face, pleasant features, brown skin, tanned by sun and rain; blue, but very expressive eyes, inclining to grey; broad, white teeth, and square brawny form, well proportioned; and every muscle of the arms, thighs and legs, was fully developed, indicating the greatest strength and activity. His person, taken altogether, was a model for a Hercules, except as to size.” Of his character, Mike has himself given the best epitome. He used to say, “I can out-run, out-hop, out-jump, throw down, drag out and lick any man in the country. I’m a Salt-river roarer; I love the wimming and I’m chock full of fight.”
The early history of steamboat navigation will appear in its proper place.