Here I got into the waggon for the pur pose of changing my clothing, not thinking that I was in any danger; but while I was in there we were met by some wheel-barrow men who were working on the road and the horses took a scare and away they went, like they had seen a ghost. They made a sudden wheel around and broke the waggon tongue slap, short off, as a pipe-stem; and snap went both of the axletrees at the same time, and of all devlish flouncing about of flour barrels that ever was seen, I reckon this took the beat. Even a rat would have stood a bad chance in a straight race among them, and not much better in a crooked one; for he would have been in a good way to be ground up as fine as ginger by their rolling over him. But this proved to me that if a fellow is born to be hung, he will never be drowned; and, further, that if he is born for a seat in Congress, even flour barrels can’t make a mash of him. All these dangers I escaped unhurt, though, like most of the office-holders of these times, for a while I was afraid to say my soul was my own; for I didn’t know how soon I should be knocked into a cocked hat and get my walking papers for another country.
We put our load into another waggon and hauled ours to a workman’s shop in Baltimore having delivered the flour and there we intended to re main two or three days, which time was necessary to repair the runaway waggon. While I was there I went, one day down to the wharf and was much delighted to see the big ships and their sails all flying; for I had never seen any such things before and, indeed, I didn’t believe there were any such things in all nature. After a short time my curiosity induced me to step aboard of one, where I was met by the captain who asked me if I didn’t wish to take a voyage to London? I told him I did, for by this time I had become pretty well weaned from home and I cared but little where I was, or where I went, or what be come of me. He said he wanted just such a boy as I was, which I was glad to hear. I told him I would go and get my clothes and go with him. He enquired about my parents, where they lived and all about them. I let him know that they lived in Tennessee, many hundred miles off. We soon agreed about my intended voyage and I went back to my friend, the waggoner, and informed him that I was going to London and wanted my money and my clothes. He refused to let me have either and swore that he would confine me and take me back to Tennessee. I took it to heart very much but he kept so close and constant a watch over me that I found it impossible to es cape from him until he had started homeward and made several days journey on the road. He was, during this time, very ill to me and threatened me with his waggon whip on several occasions. At length I resolved to leave him at all hazards and so, before day one morning, I got my clothes out of his waggon and cut out on foot without a farthing of money to bear my expenses. For all other friends having failed, I determined then to throw myself on Providence and see how that would use me. I had gone, however, only a few miles when I came up with another waggoner and such was my situation that I felt more than ever the necessity of endeavouring to find a friend. I therefore concluded I would seek for one in him. He was going westwardly and very kindly en quired of me where I was travelling? My youth ful resolution, which had brooked almost every thing else, rather gave way at this enquiry; for it brought the loneliness of my situation, and every thing else that was calculated to oppress me, di rectly to view. My first answer to his question was in a sprinkle of tears, for if the world had been given to me, I could not, at that moment, have helped crying. As soon as the storm of feeling was over, I told him how I had been treated by the waggoner but a little before, who kept what little money I had, and left me without a copper to buy even a morsel of food.
He became exceedingly angry and swore that he would make the other waggoner give up my money, pronouncing him a scoundrel and many other hard names. I told him I was afraid to see him, for he had threatened me with his waggon whip, and I believed he would injure me. But my new friend was a very large, stout-looking man, and as resolute as a tiger. He bid me not to be afraid, still swearing he would have my money or whip it out of the wretch who had it.
We turned and went back about two miles when we reached the place where he was. I went reluctantly; but I depended on my friend for pro tection. When we got there, I had but little to say; but approaching the waggoner, my friend said to him, “You damn’d rascal, you have treated this boy badly.” To which he replied it was my fault. He was then asked if he did not get seven dollars of my money, which he confessed. It was then demanded of him; but he declared most solemnly that he had not that amount in the world; that he had spent my money and in tended paying it back to me when we got to Ten nessee. I then felt reconciled and persuaded my friend to let him alone and we returned to his waggon, geared up, and started. His name I shall never forget while my memory lasts; it was Henry Myers. He lived in Pennsylvania and I found him what he professed to be, a faithful friend and a clever fellow.
We traveled together for several days, but at length I concluded to endeavour to make my way homeward and for that purpose set out again on foot, and alone. But one thing I must not omit. The last night I stayed with Mr. Myers was at a place where several other waggoners also stayed. He told them before we parted that I was a poor little straggling boy and how I had been treated and that I was without money, though I had a long journey before me through a land of strangers, where it was not even a wilderness.
They were good enough to contribute a sort of money-purse and presented me with three dol lars. On this amount I travelled as far as Mont gomery court-house, in the state of Virginia, where it gave out. I set in to work for a man by the name of James Caldwell for a month for five dollars, which was about a shilling a day. When this time was out, I bound myself to a man by the name of Elijah Griffith, by trade a hatter, agreeing to work for him four years. I remained with him about eighteen months when he found himself so involved in debt that he broke up and left the country. For this time I had received nothing and was, of course, left without money and with but very few clothes and them very indifferent ones. I, however, set in again and worked about as I could catch employment until I got a little money and some clothing and once more cut out for home. When I reached New River, at the mouth of a small stream called Little River, the white caps were flying so that I couldn’t get any body to attempt to put me across. I argued the case as well as I could but they told me there was great danger of being capsized and drowned if I attempted to cross. I told them if I could get a canoe I would venture, caps or no caps. They tried to persuade me out of it; but finding they could not, they agreed I might take a canoe, and so I did, and put off. I tied my clothes to the rope of the canoe to have them safe whatever might happen. But I found it a mighty ticklish business, I tell you. When I got out fairly on the river, I would have given the world, if it had belonged to me, to have been back on shore. But there was no time to lose now, so I just determined to do the best I could and the devil take the hindmost. I turned the canoe across the waves, I had to turn it nearly up the river, as the wind came from that way, and I went about two miles before I could land. When I struck land, my canoe was about half full of water and I was as wet as a drowned rat. But I was so much rejoiced that I scarcely felt the cold, though my clothes were frozen on me; and in this situation, I had to go above three miles before I could find any house or fire to warm at. I, however, made out to get to one at last and then I thought I would warm the inside a little, as well as the outside, that there might be no grumbling.
So I took “a leetle of the creater,” that warmer of the cold, and cooler of the hot, and it made me feel so good that I concluded it was like the negro’s rabbit, “good any way.” I passed on until I ar rived in Sullivan county, in the state of Tennessee, and there I met with my brother who had gone with me when I started from home with the cat tle drove.
I stayed with him a few weeks and then went on to my father’s, which place I reached late in the evening. Several waggons were there for the night and considerable company about the house. I enquired if I could stay all night for I did not intend to make myself known until I saw whether any of the f
amily would find me out. I was told that I could stay and went in, but had mighty little to say to any body. I had been gone so long and had grown so much that the family did not at first know me. And another, and perhaps a stronger reason was, they had no thought or ex pectation of me, for they all had long given me up for finally lost.
After a while, we were all called to supper. I went with the rest. We had sat down to the table and begun to eat, when my eldest sister recollected me: she sprang up, ran and seized me around the neck, and exclaimed, “Here is my lost brother.”
My feelings at this time it would be vain and foolish for me to attempt to describe. I had often thought I felt before, and I suppose I had, but sure I am, I never had felt as I then did. The joy of my sisters and my mother, and, indeed, of all the family, was such that it humbled me and made me sorry that I hadn’t submitted to a hundred whippings sooner than cause so much affliction as they had suffered on my account. I found the family had never heard a word of me from the time my brother left me. I was now almost fifteen years old; and my increased age and size, together with the joy of my father, occasioned by my unexpected return, I was sure would secure me against my long dreaded whipping; and so they did. But it will be a source of astonishment to many, who reflect that I am now a member of the American Congress, the most enlightened body of men in the world, that at so advanced an age, the age of fifteen, I did not know the first letter in the book.
I HAD remained for some short time at home with my father when he informed me that he owed a man, whose name was Abraham Wilson, the sum of thirty-six dollars and that if I would set in and work out the note, so as to lift it for him, he would discharge me from his service and I might go free. I agreed to do this, and went immediately to the man who held my father’s note and contracted with him to work six months for it. I set in and worked with all my might, not losing a single day in the six months. When my time was out, I got my father’s note and then declined working with the man any longer, though he wanted to hire me mighty bad. The reason was, it was a place where a heap of bad company met to drink and gamble and I wanted to get away from them, for I know’d very well if I stayed there, I should get a bad name, as nobody could be respectable that would live there. I therefore returned to my father, and gave him up his paper, which seemed to please him mightily, for though he was poor, he was an honest man, and always tried mighty hard to pay off his debts.
I next went to the house of an honest old Qua ker by the name of John Kennedy, who had re moved from North Carolina, and proposed to hire myself to him at two shillings a day. He agreed to take me a week on trial at the end of which he appeared pleased with my work and in formed me that he held a note on my father for forty dollars and that he would give me that note if I would work for him six months. I was cer tain enough that I should never get any part of the note; but then I remembered it was my father that owed it and I concluded it was my duty as a child to help him along and ease his lot as much as I could. I told the Quaker I would take him up at his offer and immediately went to work. I never visited my father’s house during the whole time of this engagement, though he lived only fifteen miles off. But when it was finished, and I had got the note, I borrowed one of my em ployer’s horses, and, on a Sunday evening, went to pay my parents a visit. Some time after I got there, I pulled out the note and handed it to my father, who supposed Mr. Kennedy had sent it for collection. The old man looked mighty sorry and said to me he had not the money to pay it, and didn’t know what he should do. I then told him I had paid it for him and it was then his own that it was not presented for collection, but as a present from me. At this, he shed a heap of tears and as soon as he got a little over it, he said he was sorry he couldn’t give me any thing, he was too poor.
The next day, I went back to my old friend, the Quaker, and set in to work for him for some clothes; for I had now worked a year without getting any money at all, and my clothes were nearly all worn out and what few I had left were mighty indifferent. I worked in this way for about two months; and in that time a young woman from North Carolina, who was the Qua ker’s niece, came on a visit to his house. And now I am just getting on a part of my history that I know I never can forget. For though I have heard people talk about hard loving, yet I reckon no poor devil in this world was ever cursed with such hard love as mine has always been, when it came on me. I soon found myself head over heels in love with this girl, whose name the public could make no use of. I thought that if all the hills about there were pure chink, and all belonged to me, I would give them if I could just talk to her as I wanted to; but I was afraid to begin, for when I would think of saying any thing to her, my heart would begin to flutter like a duck in a puddle; and if I tried to outdo it and speak, it would get right smack up in my throat, and choak me like a cold potatoe. It bore on my mind in this way, till at last I concluded I must die if I didn’t broach the subject; and so I determined to begin and hang on a trying to speak, till my heart would get out of my throat one way or t’other. And so one day at it I went and after several trials I could say a little. I told her how well I loved her; that she was the darling object of my soul and body; and I must have her or else I should pine down to nothing, and just die away with the consumption.
I found my talk was not disagreeable to her but she was an honest girl and didn’t want to deceive nobody. She told me she was engaged to her cousin, a son of the old Quaker. This news was worse to me than war, pestilence, or famine; but still I knowed I could not help myself. I saw quick enough my cake was dough and I tried to cool off as fast as possible; but I had hardly safety pipes enough, as my love was so hot as mighty nigh to burst my boilers. But I didn’t press my claims any more, seeing there was no chance to do any thing.
I began now to think that all my misfortunes growed out of my want of learning. I had never been to school but four days, as the reader has already seen, and did not yet know a letter.
I thought I would try to go to school some; and as the Quaker had a married son, who was living about a mile and a half from him, and keeping a school, I proposed to him that I would go to school four days in the week, and work for him the other two, to pay my board and schooling. He agreed I might come on those terms and so at it I went, learning and working back and forwards, until I had been with him nigh on to six months. In this time I learned to read a little in my primer, to write my own name, and to cypher some in the three first rules in figures. And this was all the schooling I ever had in my life, up to this day. I should have continued longer, if it hadn’t been that I concluded I couldn’t do any longer without a wife; and so I cut out to hunt me one.
I found a family of very pretty little girls that I had known when very young. They had lived in the same neighborhood with me and I had thought very well of them. I made an offer to one of them, whose name is nobody’s business, no more than the Quaker girl’s was, and I found she took it very well. I still continued paying my respects to her, until I got to love her as bad as I had the Quaker’s niece; and I would have agreed to fight a whole regiment of wild cats if she would only have said she would have me. Several months passed in this way, during all of which time she continued very kind and friendly. At last, the son of the old Quaker and my first girl had concluded to bring their matter to a close, and my little queen and myself were called on to wait on them. We went on the day and performed our duty as attendants. This made me worse than ever and after it was over, I pressed my claim very hard on her, but she would still give me a sort of an evasive answer. However, I gave her mighty little peace till she told me at last she would have me. I thought this was glo rification enough, even without spectacles. I was then about eighteen years old. We fixed the time to be married and I thought if that day come, I should be the happiest man in the created world, or in the moon, or any where else.
I had by this time got to be mighty fond of the rifle and had bought a capital one. I most generally carried her with me whereever I went, and though I had got back to the old Quaker’s t
o live, who was a very particular man, I would sometimes slip out and attend the shooting matches, where they shot for beef; I always tried, though, to keep it a secret from him. He had at the same time a bound boy living with him who I had gotten into almost as great a notion of the girls as myself. He was about my own age and was deeply smitten with the sister to my intended wife. I know’d it was in vain to try to get the leave of the old man for my young associate to go with me on any of my courting frolics but I thought I could fix a plan to have him along which would not injure the Quaker, as we had no notion that he should ever know it. We commonly slept upstairs, and at the gable end of the house there was a window. So one Sunday, when the old man and his family were all gone to meeting, we went out and cut a long pole, and, taking it to the house, we set it up on end in the corner, reaching up the chimney as high as the window. After this we would go up stairs to bed and then, putting on our Sunday clothes, would go out at the window, and climb down the pole, take a horse apiece and ride about ten miles to where his sweetheart lived and to the girl I claimed as my wife. I was always mighty careful to be back before day so as to escape being found out and in this way I continued my attentions very closely until a few days before I was to be married, or at least thought I was, for I had no fear that any thing was about to go wrong.
An Autobiography of Davy Crockett Page 3
