CHAPTER III.
A Sea Voyage—A Meeting at Sea—Tornado—Strange Vessel—In Texas—Travels to Houston—Hard Fare—The Country—Sleeping on the Ground—Very Thirsty—Must have Water—Colorado River—Sound Asleep on its Banks—Crosses the River on Logs—Corn Cake—A Surprise—In Houston—General Houston—The Attorney General of Texas—San Jacinto Battle Ground—A Pandemonium—Buck Wheat Cakes—Embarked for New Orleans—A Condemned Vessel—On Allowance—In New Orleans—A Contrast—Ague and Fever—Up the Mississippi River.
A Sea Voyage—A Meeting at Sea—Tornado—Strange Vessel—In Texas—Travels to Houston—Hard Fare—The Country—Sleeping on the Ground—Very Thirsty—Must have Water—Colorado River—Sound Asleep on its Banks—Crosses the River on Logs—Corn Cake—A Surprise—In Houston—General Houston—The Attorney General of Texas—San Jacinto Battle Ground—A Pandemonium—Buck Wheat Cakes—Embarked for New Orleans—A Condemned Vessel—On Allowance—In New Orleans—A Contrast—Ague and Fever—Up the Mississippi River.
Desiring to see more of the world, I embarked for Matagorda, Texas, on board of a brig, bound for that place. A steam tug towed us to the Balize, and we were soon winding our way towards the destined port. There were many emigrants on board, going to Texas, to make themselves homes. As soon as it became known that I was a clergyman, I was invited to hold services. I stood on the quarter-deck, my hearers, numbering about one hundred, gathered around me—some on deck and some in the rigging. My text was, “And he arose, and rebuked the winds, and the sea, and there was a great calm.” I commenced by speaking of the storms to which the sea is subject, and then spoke of thatOne, who has perfect control of its mountain waves, and of the hurricane that lashes the mighty deep into such fury. One word from Him turned the headlong tornado into a calm, and the angry surges into repose. Life is a sea, and we are all voyagers, sailing from port to port. Sometimes we have fair weather, and sometimes foul weather. To-day the sun may shine bright, and the air be as gentle as an infant’s breath, and our barkmay glide smoothly along, like a vessel on the mirrored deep; to-morrow, clouds and darkness may gather around, the storms of human passion, or of adversity may threaten the destruction of us and ours, and in despair we may give up all as lost. But let us remember, through the whole journey of life, that there is One who controls the storms of life as well as the storms of the ocean, and to every troubled heart he does or will say, “Peace—be still.” A hymn was sung, in which nearly all, sailors and passengers, participated.
In an hour after services, a small cloud was observed in the west. The captain, knowing what it betokened, ordered the vessel put in trim for a gale. In a few minutes, the wind was howling through the rigging, and the vessel plunging from wave to wave, as if eager to flee from the wrath of the storm-king. The gale continued above an hour, when the wind abated, the clouds dispersed, the sun shone bright, and the sea soon became as smooth as a mirror. That latitude, at that season of the year, is subject to such gusts of passion. A few nights after, when I was sound asleep on the quarter-deck, for it was too hot to rest below, one of these gales crossed our track, and a huge wave breaking over the vessel, dashed me across the deck, when I scrambled up, and ran into the cabin, not fancying so unceremonious a sea-bath. One night, a man jumped overboard, and was lost—he must have been insane. Friends at home probably waited with alternate hope and fear for his return, and, perhaps, never knew of his sad fate. At that time, Mexico and Texas were at war, and armed vessels were in the gulf looking after prizes. One day, a large ship was observed in the distance, bearing down upon us, without showing colors. Our captain was alarmed. With a pale face, he eyed the stranger through his telescope. We were all fearful it was a Mexican armed vessel, andthat we should be taken into Matamoras; but we were finally relieved by the ship showing English colors, tacking eastward and leaving us.
We sailed up the Matagorda bay a few miles, but the water being shallow, I got on board a lighter, and went to a village, the name of which I do not now remember. When I landed in Texas, I supposed I had delivered my last sermon. I had become tired of wandering about the world, and had had no opportunity to settle before I had concluded to quit the ministry. But going to Texas at that early day to find a home, was certainly a wild and foolish project; and I had been there but a short time, when I repented in sackcloth and ashes, for having taken the step I had, and resolved to return to the United States, and continue in the ministry. I immediately commenced making preparation to go to Houston by the land route, and thence to New Orleans by water. The distance to Houston was one hundred and sixty miles, and I resolved to go there on foot. Being informed that there were but few inhabitants on the road, and most of them in a starving condition, as the Mexican army had the season previous passed through that region, I carried food to last me to the end of my land journey. No tea, coffee, sugar, salt or flour could be obtained for love or money. Every body lived on fresh beef, without salt, pepper or butter, save here and there an aristocrat who had a little corn meal in his larder. I bought some beef, cut it in slices, and dried it in the sun.
With a good supply of dried beef, and nothing else, a tin canteen, a blanket and a staff, I commenced my journey, on foot and alone, through the wild prairies of Texas. I found the country to be nearly all prairie, the surface quite level, and the soil rich and deep. The forest trees were generally covered with ivy, which gave them a melancholy appearance. Live oaks abounded in some localities. Alligatorsflourished in the streams, and Indians, snakes, tarantulas and horned toads on the land. I often traveled a day without seeing a human being or his habitation. When night came on, I would stop, eat my dried beef, drink some water, which I had carried, perhaps, all day, and then roll myself in my blanket, lay on the ground, and go to sleep, not knowing that there was a human being within miles of me. I was four weeks in going to Houston, and did not sleep in a house one night during that time.
I well remember how I suffered one day from thirst. It was a very warm day, and my little stock of water was exhausted at my morning repast. I expected to find more of the blessed beverage about noon in a small grove. I reached the spot, but no water was there; the bed where there had been a stream was dry and hard. It was a sore disappointment, for I was very thirsty. As I could not eat my dry beef without water, I pressed towards the Colorado river, which seemed to be about fifteen miles distant, for I could see the timber bordering on the stream. I reached the timber a little after dark, but how far it was to the river, I knew not. I plunged into the forest in the direction I knew the stream must lay, as it ran southward. The moon, which had just risen, was my only guide, for be it known, I was on no road. It proved to be about four miles to the river, and how I got through, I know not. There was no path, the thick foliage of the forest admitted but little moonlight, and the underbrush, vines and branches of trees, made the whole distance a perfect thicket. But I went through with a rush, regardless of scratches, snakes, or anything else, for water I must have. About ten o’clock, I reached the bank of the river, reflecting the full moon, which had been my guide through the dense forest; and never did a traveler on the Arabian desert behold the long sought pool with more delight. It seemed to be my friend,my savior; and if I had been an idolator, I should have fallen down and worshiped it. I filled my canteen, and drank till I was satisfied. I then bathed my head, face, hands and feet in the glorious river. On the bank I partook of my humble repast—dried beef and water—with a thankful heart. With my blanket around me, I laid down on the ground and slept, never better, till the hot morning sun, shining in my face, awaked me, when it was about two hours’ high. I have often wondered how I dared to sleep that night, knowing as I did, that there were alligators in the river, and bears, wolves, and poisonous reptiles in the woods. In the morning, I again partook of beef and water, with an excellent relish.
But a new difficulty now presented itself. A deep river was before me, without a bridge or a boat, and I could not swim. But cross the stream I must by some means. In the first place, I explored the river, up and down, several miles, hoping to find some one to aid me, but not a sign of a human being, or human habitation could I discover. I resolved to attempt to cross the river on a log, and after much hard work succeeded in getting two logs of sufficient size, into the water, fastened them together with strips of my blanket, and with pole in hand, launched into the river. The stream being quite rapid, my frail craft floated down about one mile, but I safely landed on the opposite shore without much trouble. After wandering in the canebrakes two hours, I struck a road, and thanked God and took courage.
I soon came to a house, and had the good fortune to obtain a quart of corn, which I ground in an old coffee mill, and made some excellent corn bread of meal and water. I passed through San Felipe, where was once a village, but only its ruins then remained, for the Mexicans had destroyed it. Waking one morning about sunrise, I was amazed by the presence of six naked Indians, squatted in the grassaround me. I jumped to my feet; they saw that I was astonished, but I noticed they smiled. Taking courage by that friendly token, I walked up to them, and extended my right hand. They offered me the pipe of peace, which was gladly accepted. They did not understand a word of English, nor I a word of Indian. We talked, however, in gestures. They remained an hour, when we separated in friendship.
When within thirty miles of Houston, I sold my watch for fifteen dollars, expecting that I should need the money to help pay expenses to the States. After receiving the money, I heard a woman remark, “It will do him no good, for he will spend it all for liquor in Houston.” I suppose she would have thought I lied, if I had told her that I had never drank a glass of liquor. Arriving at Houston, I renovated self and clothing, for both were rather dilapidated. Samuel Houston was then president of Texas. I was in company with him several times, and dined once in the log-cabin, where he boarded. He was a good talker, but an awful swearer. Oath after oath rolled from his tongue without an effort. It is said that General Jackson was aneloquentswearer, but I have doubts of his beating General Houston in that department of eloquence. I witnessed his departure for the interior of Texas, to treat with some Indian tribes. The ferryman did not handle the boat to suit the president, and he poured battery after battery of oaths on the poor fellow’s head. On leaving, he embraced, after the French fashion, his friends, who had followed him to the boat. I was on the San Jacinto battle ground, a few miles from the city. It was a short but decided contest. The Mexican forces were totally routed, and Santa Anna taken prisoner. That battle crowned Houston with glory and honor in Texas. The town of Houston, when I was there, was a moral desert. Vice of most every name and grade reigned triumphant—it was a hell on earth. The Attorney-Generalof Texas, while I was there, roamed the streets half of one night, drunk, and hatless, coatless, bootless, daring any one to fight with him. The people laughed about it as if it was a trifling matter, and of common occurrence. It is to be hoped that the morals of that place have improved.
Wishing to go to New Orleans by water, I went in a lighter down Buffalo bayou to Galveston bar, where the steamer was anchored. The passage down occupied three days, and that vessel was a perfect pandemonium—the officers and hands were quarreling or fighting most of the time. Dirks and pistols were freely used. Buckwheat cakes and fat hog-sides were served to us three times a day. And oh, what cakes! The cook baked them about an inch thick, without any rising properties, and put them on the table stone cold. Fine cakes—thick, cold and solid. I finally reached the steamer, and the captain promised us a quick passage and good fare. But I soon learned, when it was too late, that the boat was an old, rotten, condemned hulk; that provisions were scarce, and that the captain was a scamp. Time and again the engine broke, or some of the running gear. Water and food soon being exhausted, we were allowed one pint of water and one Boston cracker per day. The fuel being all consumed, we had to burn part of the boat to get into port. We were a week in going from Galveston bar to the mouth of the Mississippi river, when the trip should have been made in thirty-six hours. Fortunately we had pleasant weather, for one such squall as we had going out, would have sent the whole concern to the bottom of the gulf.
When I returned to New Orleans it was mid-summer, and the city presented a very different appearance from what it did when I was there the previous winter. Then business was at its zenith, now at its nadir; then the hotels, streets and marts of tradewere crowded, now there was plenty of room; then steamboats and vessels were receiving and discharging freight for and from every clime, now the shipping was very meager; then the weather was pleasant, now the heat was scorching, burning, melting; then it was healthy, now the yellow fever and almost every other fever, was raging. Exposure and hard fare in Texas, ultimated in ague and fever. I had several chills while in Houston; when at sea beyond the land breeze, I was free from them; but as soon as I inhaled the air from shore, they returned with increased violence, and it was two years before I entirely regained my former good health.
I was soon on board of a steamer bound for Cincinnati, and after a voyage of two weeks, landed at Leavenworth, Ind., where I remained three months doctoring for the ague.