by Tom McCarthy
I traveled on my course with as much rapidity as my feeble and exhausted condition would allow until dusk, when I arrived at the bank of a small river; here I reposed uninterruptedly until daylight next morning. When I first attempted to arise, my limbs refused their duty, and I was compelled to seize hold of a bush that was near in order to raise myself upon my feet. This is not strange when we consider the fatigue and hunger I had endured, the wounds all over my limbs, and the numbness produced by sleeping without a covering, exposed to the dampness that arises from a freshwater river in a climate like that of Cuba.
I paused on the bank a few moments observing the current in order to ascertain the direction of its source, toward which I proceeded, traveling on the bank until noon, when I entered a beautiful lime grove, the fruit of which completely strewed the ground. After I had devoured as many of these, rind and all, as satisfied the cravings of hunger, I filled my jacket pockets, fearing I might not again meet with such a timely supply.
By this time I had discovered a winding footpath formed by droves of wild cattle, but in vain did I search for the impression of a human footstep. This path I followed until it led to a fording place in the river, where I paused, dreading the effect of freshwater on my sores, some of which had begun to scab over. But my situation would not admit delay; I therefore forded the river, which had been so swollen by recent rains that I was compelled to wade up to my armpits. This produced the apprehended effect, for I had no sooner reached the opposite shore than my sores began to bleed afresh and smart severely. My supply of limes recruited my strength sufficiently to pursue my path until sunset, when I again halted and set me down on a log.
The only article of clothing I had to cover my nakedness was my jacket, for the body of my shirt I had left on one of the keys, fearing that the blood stains upon it might bring on me some unjust suspicion. My numerous sores, owing to the alternate influence of heat and freshwater, had now become so offensive as to occasion a violent retching that nearly overcame the feeble powers of my stomach, and had it not been for my providential supply of limes, that afterward, in some degree corrected their fetor, I must have laid me down by this log, a mass of corruption, and given my body up a prey to the birds and wild beasts of the forest. The reader will not think this an exaggeration, for while I was sitting here, the numerous turkey buzzards that were roosting over my head, attracted by my offensive smell, alighted within a few feet of me and began to attack each other with as much ferocity as if they were already contending for their prey. I arose, as if to convince them that I yet possessed the power of motion, though I doubted within myself whether they would not have possession of me before the setting of another sun. But onward I traveled as far and as fast as my feeble condition would permit, until it was too dark to follow the path, when I laid down and passed a restless night, annoyed, as usual, with mosquitoes. In the morning I arose feeble and dejected, and in my prayers, which I had daily addressed to Him whose mercy seat had so often covered me from the tempest and whose “pillar of cloud by day and pillar of fire by night” had not yet forsaken me in the wilderness, I desired that I might meet this day (the sixth of my miraculous escape) some being to whom I could relate my sufferings and the murder of my companions as an appeal to my country (bound as she is to protect the humblest of her citizens) to arise in the majesty of her naval power and stay the hands of those who are coloring these barbarous shores with the blood of her enterprising seamen.
My life glass appeared to be nearly up, and I now began to yield all hopes of being relieved. My feet and limbs began to swell from the inflammation of the sores, and my limes, the only sustenance I had, although they preserved life, began to create gnawing pains in my stomach and bowels. I however wandered on, following the intricate windings of the path, until the middle of the forenoon, when I discovered, directly in the way, several husks of corn and, soon after, some small sticks like bean poles that had evidently been sharpened at one end by some human hand. This discovery, trifling as it may appear, renewed my spirits and strength to such a degree that I made very little pause until about sunset, when I espied in the path, not a great distance ahead, a man on horseback, surrounded by nearly twenty dogs! Fearing he might not observe me, I raised my hat upon my walking stick as a signal for him to approach. The quick-scented dogs were soon on the start, and when I saw that they resembled bloodhounds, I had serious apprehensions for my safety, but a call from their master, which they obeyed with prompt discipline, put my fears to rest. The man was a negro, mounted on a kind of mat made of the palm leaf and generally used for saddles by the plantation slaves on this island. When within a few rods of me, he dismounted, approached with his drawn sword (machete), and paused in apparent astonishment, I pointing to the sores on me, fearing from his attitude he might mistake me for some highway robber. He now began to address me in Spanish, of which I knew only enough to make him understand I had been shipwrecked, on which he made signs for me to mount the horse. This I attempted but was unable to do, until he assisted me. He then pointed in the direction of the path for me to go on, he following the horse with his sword in his hand.
After traveling nearly three miles, I discovered a number of lights about half a mile distant, and when we came up with them, we halted near a large bamboo grove, where, with his aid, I dismounted and, by a signal from him, sat down until he went to a hut and returned with a shirt and pair of trousers, with which he covered my nakedness. He now took me by the hand and led me into a large house occupied by his master, the owner of the plantation. A bench was brought me, on which I seated myself, and the master of the house, a gray-headed Spaniard, probably turned of seventy, came toward me with an air of kindness, understanding from the black I had been shipwrecked. As the old man was examining my sores, he discovered on my arm a handsome impression of the Crucifix that had been pricked in with indelible ink in the East Indies some years before, which he kissed with apparent rapture, saying to me, “Anglois very much of the Christian,” supposing me to be a Roman Catholic. This drew around me all the members of the family, who kneeled in succession, kissing the image and manifesting their sensibility by tears at the sufferings which they perceived by my sores and emaciated appearance I must have endured. I was then conducted by an old lady, whom I took to be his wife, into another apartment, in the corner of which, was a kind of grate where a fire was kindled on the ground. Here a table was spread that groaned under all the luxuries which abound on the plantations of this island, but it was perhaps fortunate for me that my throat was so raw and inflamed I could swallow nothing but some soft-boiled rice and coffee. After this refreshment, the kind old Spaniard stripped me, dipped a clean linen cloth into pure virgin honey, and rubbed it over my sores. He then pointed to the bed, which had been prepared for me in the same room. I gave him to understand by signs that I should besmear his clean sheets, but this was negatived by a shake of the head, so without further ceremony I turned in—it was the softest pillow I ever did or expect to lay my head on—yet it was rest, not sleep.
The old man had ordered a servant to attend me during the night, fearing the little food I had taken, after so long an abstinence, might produce some serious illness. Every time I groaned or turned, this servant would run to me with a bowl of strong hot coffee, which I could not refuse without disobeying his master’s orders. Early in the morning, before I arose, the old planter came to my bedside, examined my pulse and tongue, and brought me a quart bowl of fresh tamarinds, more than half of which he compelled me to eat in order to prepare my stomach for the after reception of food and prevent those symptoms of inflammation, which his intimate knowledge of the healing art had enabled him to discover.
10
An Ill-Fated Robbery
By George Huntington
The James and Younger brothers knew what they were doing, and they always did it well. After all, they’d been robbing banks for a long time, and no one had been able to catch them. A well-planned heist of a small ba
nk in the quiet town of Northfield, Minnesota, would be a walk in the park. Or so they thought.
In the latter part of August 1876, a mysterious company of men made their appearance in southern Minnesota and proceeded to visit various cities and villages in that part of the state. There were certainly eight of them and possibly nine, some of them hard, vicious-looking fellows, from whom people instinctively shrank; others gentlemanly, handsome, and even imposing in personal appearance. They traveled on horseback and rode like men accustomed to live in the saddle. They had the finest of horses and equipment, part of it brought with them, the rest purchased after they entered the state. They had plenty of money and spent it lavishly.
In their progress from place to place, they did not go like an organized band but wandered here and there, sometimes two by two, sometimes four or five together. When several of them visited a town together, they went to different hotels and avoided all appearance of collusion or of common design. Often they avoided towns and sought entertainment at the houses of farmers or other citizens, where they found no difficulty in making themselves agreeable and in giving a plausible account of themselves. Wherever they went, they attracted more or less attention, excited the curiosity of the inquisitive and occasionally the suspicions of the wary, but upon most people they made the impression of well-bred respectability.
They passed for civil engineers looking up railway routes, for capitalists in search of land, for stockmen dealing in horses and cattle. Their outfit and mode of travel made either of these suppositions reasonable, and their smooth courtesy, affability, and apparent frankness were accepted in lieu of credentials of character. That they were not all that they pretended to be many people suspected, but that they were a band of outlaws, or rather a combination of three bands, comprising the most notorious desperadoes in the country, laying their plans for a great robbery, no one suspected. Still less did they themselves suspect that their career of crime was so near its close or that they were making deliberate plans for their own destruction.
Of course, they passed under assumed names, introducing themselves as J. C. King, Jack Ward, etc. It is now known that the band consisted of the following men: Jesse James and his brother Frank; Thomas C. Younger (commonly known as Cole Younger) and his brothers James and Robert; Clel Miller; William Stiles, alias Chadwell; and Charles Pitts, alias George Wells. Some persons maintain that there was a ninth man, but he has never been identified and is commonly believed to be mythical. The eight whose names are given were all men of criminal antecedents and some of them with a record for deeds of the most revolting atrocity, though several of them were connected with highly respectable families.
In prospecting for a favorable opening, they visited a number of places, going as far north as St. Paul and Minneapolis and as far east as Red Wing. In each place they made a careful study of the chances for successful operations in their line and of routes of escape, visiting the banks on one pretext or another and familiarizing themselves with all facts that had any bearing on their scheme. They took special pains to make themselves acquainted with such features of the country as would aid or hinder them in going and coming on their intended raid; as, for instance, the location of lakes, streams, swamps, or forests on the one hand and that of roads, bridges, and fords on the other.
The situation and the resources of villages, the extent of country population, and the nationality and character of the people also interested them. With the aid of maps, printed statements, and minute inquiries, they succeeded in gaining a large amount of information without betraying their purpose—information which they found exceedingly convenient at a later day. They also had the advantage of being to a certain extent personally conducted. Stiles, one of their number, had formerly lived in Rice County and was therefore able to act as a sort of guide for the expedition, if indeed he was not, as some think, its instigator. Their reliance upon him, however, proved in the end, as we shall see, a source of danger rather than of safety.
Finding nothing to their mind in the great cities, they turned their attention to a group of country towns lying farther south, including St. Peter, Mankato, Lake Crystal, Madelia, St. James, Garden City, Janesville, Cordova, Waterville, Millersburg, Cannon City, and Northfield. These, again, divide themselves into two smaller groups, having direct or indirect relation to the two points of attack selected by the robbers and all of them being on or near a diagonal line, extending about thirty or forty miles southwest and about forty or fifty miles northeast of Mankato.
Having completed their preliminary survey, they prepared for their grand exploit. Their first project was the robbery of one or more of the banks of Mankato, a thriving town at the great bend of the Minnesota River. Five of the band appeared in Mankato on Saturday, September 2nd, and, as usual, created a sensation with their fine horses and horsemanship. They made purchases at some of the stores and paid a visit to the First National Bank, where they got change for a fifty-dollar bill. According to their custom, they stayed at different hotels; at least four of them did, while the fifth sought some other resort not identified. On Sunday night two of them were known to be at a notorious resort on the opposite side of the river, a rendezvous of the lowest criminals, where, as is believed, they were in consultation with confederates with reference to their intended raid and subsequent escape.
Meantime, Jesse James had been recognized by a man who knew him by sight, and the fact was reported to the police, who shadowed the men until midnight, and put some of the bank people on their guard against possible burglaries, though no one anticipated an open attack by daylight.
On Monday, the 4th, the robbers mounted their horses and rode forth to their intended attack. Their plan was to make it about noon, when the bank force would be reduced and the streets would be most free of citizens. They had already arrived opposite the First National Bank, when they noticed a number of citizens on the sidewalk and saw one of them apparently calling another’s attention to the approaching horsemen. The robbers, fearing that they were suspected and watched, deferred the attack till a later hour. On returning, however, they saw the same citizens again, seeming, as before, to be keeping close watch upon the strangers. Convinced now that their purpose was discovered and that the citizens were prepared for them, the robbers abandoned their project and left Mankato as speedily as possible.
The truth was that they were at that moment the object of no suspicion whatever. The regular weekly meeting of the board of trade and some repairs on an adjoining building had called together the unusual number of persons whom the robbers observed, and the man who was supposed to be directing his companion’s attention to the bandits was simply remarking upon the fine quality of their horses. No doubt, however, the presence of so large a number of spectators would have seriously embarrassed the gang in beginning operations. As it was, they sensed just as good a purpose in repelling the attack as if they had been a company of armed militia on duty.
Abandoning Mankato, the robbers now moved upon Northfield as directly as roads and available stopping places would permit. Monday night found them in Janesville, eighteen miles east of Mankato; Tuesday night in Cordova, about the same distance north of Janesville; Wednesday night in Millersburg, northeast of Cordova. The rest of the band spent the same Wednesday night in Cannon City. Millersburg is eleven miles west of Northfield, Cannon City ten miles south.
Northfield is a quiet but enterprising little city in the heart of a rich and well-cultivated agricultural region which is tributary to it. It has good railroad facilities, and the Cannon River, flowing through the town, affords power for its mills and adds a picturesque feature to its scenery. A bridge crosses the river in the center of the town, connecting its eastern and its western divisions and leading, on the eastern side, into an open space known as Bridge Square, where many of the stores are to be found. On the eastern side of the square runs Division Street, the principal business street of the city, along the foot of a bluff some fifty feet i
n height; ascended by various streets; and crowned with residences, churches, and educational buildings. Prominent among the public edifices are those of Carleton College in the northeastern part of the city, while St. Olaf surmounts a high eminence in the northwestern. An observant stranger entering the city for the first time could hardly fail to get the impression of intelligence, thrift, and commercial enterprise. This was precisely the impression made upon the robbers, and it was this impression which led them to select Northfield as a field of operations.
Ten or twelve days before the final attempt upon the bank, two members of the band had visited the town for a preliminary survey. They conversed with citizens, as their custom was, making inquiries about roads, etc., particularly about the route to Mankato, and awakened the suspicion of at least one or two of the citizens as to the truth of their pretension. They found a bank doing a large business and presumably carrying a large volume of cash, and they saw the people quiet and industrious and presumably neither prepared nor disposed to meet force with force. What plans they then formed for the subsequent raid, it is impossible to say, but it is certain that they were no sooner foiled in Mankato than they started for Northfield.
