by B. F. Craig
SCENE SECOND.--THE HERO OF SHIRT-TAIL BEND.
```Two boys in one house grew up side by side,
```By the mother loved, and the father’s pride
```With raven locks and rosy cheeks they stood,
```As living types of the family blood.
```Don, from the mother did his mettle take,
```Dan, the Prodigal--born to be a rake.=
|In the month of May, 1816, the Enterprise landed at Louisville, havingmade the trip from New Orleans in twenty-five days. She was the firststeamboat that ever ascended the Mississippi river. The event wascelebrated with a public dinner, given by the citizens of Louisville toCaptain Henry M. Shreve, her commander.
A new era was inaugurated on the western waters, yet the cloudsof monopoly had to be blown away, and the free navigation of theMississippi heralded across the land.
The startling events of the times are necessarily connected with ourstory.
For the truth of history was never surpassed by fiction, only in theimagination of weak minds.
Sixty miles above Louisville, on the southern bank of the Ohio, stooda round-log cabin, surrounded by heavy timber. In the background atowering clift reared its green-covered brow to overlook the valley--thewoodland scenery seemed to say: “here is the home of the wolf and thewild cat,” and it gave the place a lonesome look.
A passing neighbor had informed the inmates of the cabin that a_saw-mill_ was coming up the river. Two barefooted boys stood in thefront yard, and looked with hopeful eyes upon the wonder of the passingsteamer. The gentle breeze that waved their infant locks, whispered thecoming storms of the future.
It was the Washington, built by Captain Shreve, and was subsequentlyseized for navigating the western waters. The case was carried to theSupreme Court of the United States, where the exclusive pretensions ofthe monopolist to navigate the western waters by steam were denied.
Some of the old heroes who battled for the free navigation of thewestern waters, left a request to be buried on the bank of the beautifulOhio, where the merry song of the boatman would break the stillnessof their resting place, and the music of the steam engine soothe theirdeparted spirits. Well have their desires been fulfilled.
Some long and tedious summers had passed away--notwithstanding acongressman had declared in Washington City, “that the Ohio river wasfrozen over six months in the year, and the balance of the season wouldnot float a tad-pole.”
The music of the steam engine or the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, hadgiven rise to unforseen industries. Don and Dan Carlo, standing in thehalf-way house between boyhood and manhood, without inheriting a redcent in the wide world with which to commence the battle of life, grownup in poverty, surrounded by family pride, with willing hearts andstrong arms, were ready t-o undertake any enterprise that glimmeringfortune might point out.
A relative on the mother’s side held the title papers, signed by theGovernor of Arkansas, to a tract ol land on the Mississippi river, whogave the privilege to Don and Dan Carlo, to establish a wood yard onsaid premises.
For steam navigation was not only a fixed fact, but the boats were muchimproved--many of them taking on board twenty-four cords of wood at onelanding.
“Competition is the life of trade,” and several enterprising woodmenwere established in this locality; and when a passing steamboat wouldring for wood after night, all anxious to show the first light,the woodmen, torch in hand, would run out of their cabins in theirshirt-tails. From this circumstance, that locality was known by theboatmen from Pittsburgh to New Orleans, by the homely appellation of the_Shirt-Tail Bend._
That, like many other localities on the Mississippi, was first settledby wood-choppers. The infantile state of society in those neighborhoodscan be better imagined than described. The nearest seat of justicewas forty miles, and the highest standard of jurisprudence was a_third-rate_ county court lawyer. Little Rock was, perhaps, theonly point in the State that could boast of being the residence of aprinters’ devil, or the author of a dime novel.
The wood-cutters were the representative men of the neighborhood. TheGospel of peace and good will to men was, perhaps, slightly preservedin the memories of some who had been raised in a more advanced stateof civilization. The passing days were numbered by making a mark on the_day-board_ every morning, and a long mark every seventh day, for theSabbath.
Quarrels concerning property seldom, if ever, occurred. The criminalcode or personal difficulties were generally settled according to thelaw of the early boatmen, which was: if two men had a personal quarrel,they were required to choose seconds, go ashore and fight it out. Theseconds were chosen to see that no weapons were used and no foul holdswere taken. It was a trial of physical strength, and when the vanquishedparty cried “_enough!_” the difficulty was considered settled.
I am speaking of times prior to the inauguration of the Arkansas Bowieknife and pistol Many of the early woodcutters on the Mississippi weremen of sterling integrity. Don Carlo never wrote a line for the futureantiquarian to ponder over, or dreamed that he was transmitting anythingto posterity; yet, by his bold and noble conduct, he stamped the impressof his character upon the memories of all who witnessed the blossom ofsociety in the woods on the Mississippi river.
Brindle Bill was a wood-chopper, but he never worked much at hisprofession. He was one of the class of woodcutters that were generallytermed the floating part of the population. This class were employedby the proprietors of the wood yards, to cut wood by the cord--for onehundred cords they received fifty dollars.
Brindle Bill was five feet and eight inches high, with square shouldersand as strong as a buffalo--and although he was classed with thefloating population, he had been in that locality for more than a yearand was a shining light at _headquarters._
This was the resort of all who claimed to be fond of fun. It was an oldcabin that was built by some early backwoodsmen, who had deserted it andmoved on. It was some distance from the river, and left unoccupiedby the woodmen. Situated in the edge of a small cane-brake, a largequantity of cane had been cut to clear the way, and piled against thewest end of the cabin.
Here the jug was kept. These men had no brilliantly lighted saloon fora resort, but human nature is the same under all circumstances. In thislocality, like all others, there were two parties, or two spirits--onewas to improve the other to degrade society. As we have said, BrindleBill was the leading spirit of his party. He was always ready to fillthe jug and play a social game at cards--he only bet, _as he said_, tokeep up a little interest in the game. Brindle Bill always had a pocketfull of money. He loved to tell long stories, and frequently relatedprevious combats, in which he came off the victor. As the test ofmanhood was physical strength, Brindle Bill was the bully of thesettlement--no one desired a personal quarrel with him.
Some said that S. S. Simon, the proprietor of a wood yard, sided withBrindle Bill--whether this was true or not--Simon’s wife, was one of theleading spirits of the other party. She was a woman of few words, butthe force of her character was felt by the whole neighborhood.
Cord, or steam wood, was the principal source of revenue, and largequantities were annually sold, thousands of dollars come into Shirt-tailBend, but there was no improvement, they had no school house, and achurch and post-office were not thought of.
Don and Dan Carlo, proprietors of one of the principal wood yards, _dearbrothers_, were animated by different spirits. Dan was a fast friendof Brindle Bill. Don was a silent spirit of the other party. They wereequal partners in the wood business, and when a sale was made, Danreceived half of the money, but it so happened that all expenses werepaid by Don. This had been the situation for a long time. In vain Donappealed to Dan--tried to arouse family pride. The two kept bachelorshall, and many times, through the long vigils of the night, Donlaid before Dan, their situation, _scoffed at_ by a large familyrelationship, because they were poor, and then representing that theymust fail in their business, because half the money received would notpay expenses, to all of
this, Dan would promise to reform--and promise,and promise, _and promise_, but would always fail.
In the dusk of the evening, after a large sale of wood had been made,at the Carlo wood yard, S. S. Simon, Dan Carlo, Sundown Hill and BrindleBill were seen making their way slowly to _headquarters_. Simon’s wiferemarked to a person near her, “_Dan’s money will go to-night_.”
Don Carlo was seen sitting alone in his cabin, his hand upon hisforehead, his eyes gazing intently upon the floor. The burning coal uponthe hearthstone glimmered in the glory of its element; the voice of thewild ducks upon the river shore, told the deep, dead hour of the night,and aroused Don Carlo from his reverie--the sun had crossed the meridianon the other side of the globe, and no sound of the foot-fall of hisabsent brother disturbed the stillness of the hour.
Don Carlo picked up a pamphlet that lay upon the table and turned overthe leaves, it was the confession of _Alonzo Phelps_.
He said mentally, Phelps was a very bad, but a very brave man. He defiedthe city of Vicksburg, defied the law, and the State of Mississippi.
He thought of the generations before him, and family pride filled hisveins with warm blood. Don Carlo was ready to face Brindle Bill, orthe Brindle Devil, in defence of his rights, and he started for_headquarters_.
Cool, calculating woman--Simon’s wife, the patient watcher for herabsent husband, saw Don Carlo wending his way through the stillness ofthe night, to _headquarters_. Her keen, woman’s wit, told her there wastrouble ahead.
Silently, and unseen, with fire brand in hand, (this was before frictionmatches were thought of,) she left the Simon cabin.
When Don Carlo arrived at _headquarters_, the door and window wasfastened on the inside, a faint light from a tallow candle, thatglimmered through the cracks of the cabin, whispered the deep laidscheme of the inmates--S. S. Simon, Sundown Hill and Brindle Bill werebanded together to swindle Dan Carlo. Don Carlo went there to enter thatcabin. Quick as thought he clambered up the corner of the jutting logs,and passed down the chimney. In front of him, around a square table,sat four men. On the center of the table a large pile of shining silverdollars, enlivened the light of the tallow candle.
The players looked up in amazement; had an angel from heaven droppedamong them, they would not have been more astonished. While the men sat,between doubt and fear, Don Carlo raked the money from the table, andput it in his pocket.
Brindle Bill was the first to rise from the table, he held up fourcards, claimed the money, said he was personally insulted by Don Carlo,and by G--d he should fight it out. He chose S. S. Simon for his second,and boastingly prepared for the contest.
Don Carlo used no words, nor did he choose any second; Sundown Hill andDan Carlo looked at each other, and at S. S. Simon, with a look thatsaid, we stand by Don Carlo.
S. S. Simon hallooed _fair play_, and Brindle Bill _pitched in_. BrindleBill was the stoutest man, Don Carlo the most active, the contest wassharp, and very doubtful, notwithstanding the boasting characterof Brindle Bill, true pluck was upon the side of Don Carlo. At thiscritical moment, Simon’s wife appeared upon the scene of action, thedoor of the cabin was fast, Simon was on the inside. She could hear theblows and smell the blood, for a lucky lick from Don had startedthe blood from Brindle Bill’s nose, but could not see or know thecombatants. Quick as thought, she applied the fire-brand to the canepile, on the west end of the cabin. A strong breeze from the west soonenveloped the roof of the cabin in flames. The men rushed out into theopen air much frightened. Simon’s wife grabbed her husband and draggedhim toward their home, with loud and eloquent cries of _shame_. Thecontest was ended, and Don Carlo had the money. Brindle Bill appealed tothe men of his party to see that he should have_ fair play_. His appealswere all in vain, the fear of him was broken, and he had no great desireto renew the contest. Seeing no hope in the future, Brindle Bill leftthe new settlement. And Don Carlo was justly entitled to the appellationof the _Hero of Shirt-Tail Bend_.
Society was started upon the up-grade. Some planters commenced to settlein the Bend, little towns were now springing up on the Mississippi, andDan Carlo out of his element, made it convenient to visit the towns. Anew era had dawned upon the criminal code in Arkansas--the pistol andthe bowie knife, of which writers of fiction have portrayed in startlingcolors. Shortly after these events, Dan Carlo was found _dead in asaloon_.
It was in April, late one Saturday evening, the steamboat “Red Stone” blew up sixty-five miles above Louisville, while landing on the Kentuckyshore; the boat burned to the water edge, and many lives were lost. Menreturning from the South, to the homes of their nativity, were consignedto the placid waters of the Ohio for a resting place, others weremangled and torn, left to eke out a weary life, without some of theirlimbs. The scene upon the shore was heart-rendering above description.The body of one poor man was picked up one-quarter of a mile from theboat, in a corn field, every bone in his body was broken, and its fallto the earth made a hole in the ground, eighteen inches deep. How highhe went in the air can only be conjectured, but we may safely say it wasout of sight. Several were seen to fall in the middle of the river, whonever reached the shore. The dead and dying were gathered up and carriedto the houses nearest at hand. The inhabitants of the shore had gatheredfor three miles up and down the river--all classes and ages were seenpulling pieces of the wreck and struggling persons to the shore= Twogirls or half-grown women passed by me walking slowly upon the pebbledshore, gazing into the water, when some distance from me, I saw one ofthem rush into the water up to her arm-pits and drag something to theshore. I hastened to the spot, and the girls passed on toward the wreck.Several men were carrying the apparently lifeless body of a man upon aboard in the direction of the half-way castle, a place of deposit forthe dead and dying. His identity was ascertained by some papers takenfrom his pocket, it was--Don Carlo--the “Hero of Shirt-Tail Bend.”
