Part 1 (1/2)
With Axe and Rifle.
by W.H.G. Kingston.
CHAPTER ONE.
CAPTAIN LORAINE'S FARM IN THE FAR WEST--HOT-HEADED YOUNG MEN--OUR FAMILY--UNCLE DENIS TAKEN SICK--WE SET OUT TO VISIT HIM--THE CORDUROY ROAD--A WAYSIDE HOTEL--ROUGH COMPANY--APPEARANCE OF THE COUNTRY-- CROSSING THE FORD AT GREEN RIVER--NEARLY LOST--A BRAVE NEGRO--GRAt.i.tUDE OF MY PARENTS--AT MR. SILAS BRACHER'S PLANTATION--DIOGENES--MAMMY COE-- THE SLAVE-OWNER--MY FATHER ENDEAVOURS TO PURCHASE THE NEGRO--SLAVERY-- UNEXPECTED RECOVERY OF DR. O'DOWD'S PATIENT--A SPORTSMAN'S AMBITION-- TRAPPING--A RICH PRIZE--SOMETHING ABOUT TURKEYS--THE WONDERFUL CAVE OF KENTUCKY--OUR RETURN TO ILLINOIS.
Some time after the termination of the long war which England had waged in the cause of liberty when well-nigh all the world was up in arms against her, my father, Captain Patrick Loraine, having served for many years as a subaltern, believing that he should no longer find employment for his sword, sold out of the army, and with the proceeds of his commission in his pocket, quitting the old country, came to the United States in the hopes of making his fortune more rapidly than he could expect to do at home.
Finding that as a British officer he was looked upon with distrust in the Eastern States, he made his way westward until he finally located himself in Illinois on a fertile spot, sheltered on the north by a wide extent of forest, and overlooking that part of the river Ohio which separates the state from Kentucky. I remember even now the appearance of the country. On the eastern side was a range of hills of slight elevation, on one of which our house stood, while westward stretched away as far as the eye could reach, a vast plain, with the mighty Mississippi beyond. The scenery could boast of no great beauty except such as lofty trees, the prairie, with its varied tints of green and brown, yellow cornfields, rich meadows in the valleys, and the s.h.i.+ning river in the distance, canopied by the blue vault of heaven, could give it. Still, it was my home, and as such I should have loved it, had it possessed even less pretensions to beauty.
So well satisfied was my father with the country that he returned to Ireland to bring back a young lady who had promised to become his wife.
Two or three years afterwards I was born, and was succeeded by my brother Dan, and finally by my dear little sister Kathleen. My mother, whose maiden name was O'Dwyer, was, I should have said, accompanied by her two brothers, Michael and Denis, who came out with the intention of a.s.sisting my father, and ultimately settling near him, but they were hot-headed young men, and before even they reached the farm they had a quarrel which resulted in their separation. Denis finally settled in Kentucky, while Michael, with a rifle on his shoulder and axe in his belt, saying that he should turn trapper, pushed away further west, and from that day to the time I am about to describe we had received no tidings from him. Uncle Denis became a successful settler. He was soon reconciled to my father, and occasionally paid us a visit, but preferred remaining in the location he had chosen to coming near us, as he had originally intended. He had remained a bachelor, not a very usual state of life for an Irishman; but, somehow or other he had not met the girl he ”wished to marry,” as he used to say. He was, notwithstanding, a merry, good-natured, kind-hearted man, and I remember that we always enjoyed his brief visits whenever he rode over on his fast-trotting cob to see us. Uncle Denis had not come for some time, when my father received a message from a doctor who was attending him, stating that if his sister wished to see him alive, she must come over immediately. My mother did not hesitate a moment, and my father agreed to drive her over in the waggon. I was to accompany them. Preparations were at once made for our departure, and as the Shawanees, long the foes of the white man in those regions, had buried the war-hatchet, and were not likely to come that way, the rest of the children were left without any apprehensions of danger, under the charge of our old black nurse, Rose.
The waggon was a long, light vehicle, with little or no iron-work about it, having benches across, and rails on either side. It had four wheels of equal size, and was drawn by a couple of horses harnessed to a pole; owing to the height and position of the two front wheels, we could not turn without making a long sweep.
My father sat on the box to drive. My mother and I occupied the front bench, and behind was stowed our luggage, provisions for the journey, and various other articles, Although I was very young at the time, I have nevertheless a clear recollection of some of the incidents of the journey.
Descending by a thickly wooded valley to the level of the Ohio, we crossed that river in a large ferry-boat, which conveyed our horses and waggon at the same time, while my mother and I sat in the vehicle and my father stood at the head of the animals to keep them quiet. The stream carried us down for some distance, and I remember my mother holding me tight in her arms, and looking with terrified glances at the water as it whirled by, apparently about to sweep the lumbering boat far down below the point the rowers were endeavouring to gain. They exerted themselves, however, to the utmost. The boat's head was turned partly up the stream, and an eddy taking her, we at length reached the landing-place. My father then mounting the box, with voice and whip urged the horses up the steep bank, and once more the waggon rolled over tolerably even ground.
The country through which we pa.s.sed was in those days almost in a state of nature, with the exception of the high road traversing the State from one end to the other. The first part lay across the ”Barrens,” a wild region, where the soil being inferior in fertility to that of the uplands, it was dest.i.tute of inhabitants. To the south extended a level prairie covered with long gra.s.s, with here and there groves of oak, chestnut, and elm. To the north the country appeared more undulating, clothed with a far greater variety of trees; hickory, black walnut, cherry, as well as magnificent oak and elm.
”I hope we shall not have another river to cross like that,” observed my mother, after keeping silence for some time, while she was endeavouring to recover from her alarm.
”Not so broad a one, Kate,” answered my father, ”but there are several streams which we must manage to get over either by fords or ferry-boats, for I doubt whether we shall find any bridges as yet put up to drive over, though they will come in good time, I have no doubt. We run no danger just now, and I don't suppose that we shall have the least difficulty in crossing any stream in our way.”
As we drove along we occasionally started a herd of deer feeding on the rich gra.s.s in the forest-glades. Hares in abundance crossed our path, and a fox slunk by, casting a suspicious glance at us, as he ran out of sight into a bush. Towards evening, as we were hoping soon to reach a log hut in which we could pa.s.s the night, our ears were a.s.sailed by a long, low howl.
”Where can that come from?” exclaimed my mother.
”Possibly from a wolf; but I'll give a good account of the brute if he makes his appearance,” answered my father; ”hand me out my rifle.”
My mother gave him the weapon, and he placed it by his side ready for use. He had also a brace of pistols stuck in his belt, so that he was prepared for an encounter either with wolves, bears, or any hostile Indians who might have ventured thus far eastward.
At last we found ourselves rumbling over a corduroy road, a sign that we were approaching human habitations. It was composed of the trunks of large trees, placed close together across the path, over a swampy place into which the wheels of carriages would otherwise have been imbedded.
The interstices had originally been filled in with earth, clay, or chips of wood, but in many parts the small stuff had sunk through, so that the waggon moved on over a succession of ridges, on which it seemed a wonder that the horses could keep their legs, and that we could escape being jerked out. Sometimes a trunk, rotted by the wet, had given way and left a gap, to avoid which it required my father's utmost skill in driving. Occasionally, with all his care, he could not find a s.p.a.ce wide enough to enable the wheels to pa.s.s. On such occasions, las.h.i.+ng his horses into a gallop, he made the waggon bound over it, crying out, as he came to the spot--
”Hold fast, Kate; don't let Mike be hove overboard.”
The waggon was strong, and stood the jolting better than my poor mother did. She, however, bore all the b.u.mping, jolting, and rolling with perfect good humour, knowing well that my father would spare her as much of it as he possibly could.
Darkness found us still on the road, although my father could still see his way between the tall trees. Scarcely had the sun set than we again heard that ominous howl, followed by sharp yelps.
”Oh! the wolves, the wolves!” cried my mother.
”Never fear,” said my father, ”they are arrant cowards, and there are no large packs hereabouts to do us harm.”
The thought, however, that they might follow us, alarmed my mother, and she kept me close to her side, looking out anxiously behind, expecting every instant to see a hungry pack coming up in chase of us. My father, perhaps, was not quite easy on the subject; he kept shouting out, and in spite of the roughness of the road, made the horses go at a faster pace than before.