The Tennessean a novel, founded on facts |
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 | CHAPTER IV. The Tennessean |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
After resting ourselves for two days, at St. Louis, we
set out, keeping a south-west course until we reached the
head of St. Francis river, which we did in fifteen days,
without meeting with any accident or impediment. Here
we made another halt to rest ourselves and horses, and
refit our accoutrements. While we remained here we
were visited by the Osage Indians. At first they testified
some dislike towards us: seemed wary and suspicious;
but upon Capt. T—'s assuring them that he
was just going to the western Ocean to catch furs, they
approached us with perfect unconcern, and offered to
guide us to the head waters of White River. We had
remained here three days, and parched a sufficiency of
corn to last us twenty days, as our biscuit and flour had
given out; Indeed, we had had so much rain for the four
or five last days, that our flour was spoiled. We had
prepared our provisions, washed our clothes, and intended
to set out on the morning of the fourth day—when lo!
fortune, which had hitherto favoured us, began to
lower.
We had concluded to leave about ten of our horses at
this place to seek their fortunes the best way they could,
as they were unable to proceed further; the remainder
were very much reduced, yet we meant to take them
some distance further, as we would soon be where wild
horses were numerous, from which we could furnish ourselves;
but that very night we lost four of our best horses.
This was distressing above all; yet we could have
borne this much easier than another misfortune, which
seemed to threaten us with more serious consequence;
this was both sickness and mutiny. Had I known the
tempers and dispositions of these Tennesseans before I
set out—(but I might apply the remark to any thing else
as the present.) One of our men, whose name was Johnston,
was taken ill that night; we had a physician in
medicine. The physician pronounced his complaint to
be “a malignant billious fever, generated from the low,
marshy country we were then in.” The Indians informed
us that this description of country was endless in
the direction we intended to pursue. This operated like
an electrical shock upon the whole party, Capt. T. excepted.
The alarm spread instantly; dejection pervaded
every man's countenance, and by far the greatest
part were for turning back. For my own part, although
I was among the number of those who wished to return,
I said nothing. Then it was that I saw what was in the
power of one man to effect, when possessed of talents,
persuasion, perseverance, and address. In the first
place all possible assistance was bestowed on the sick
man, by which time the murmurs and tumult of the rest
had measureably subsided. Capt. T. then addressed
them in a short, but very animated speech, the design of
which went to remove their fears, and revive their hopes.
In this speech, every thing that ingenuity could dictate,
enthusiasm inspire, or eloquence display, was eminently
and emphatically resorted to. Scarcely had he ended,
before all cried out, “Boys let's go on: we are not cowards—shall
we who never feared the face of man, now
be scared by a few swamps and rivers? let's go on, we'll
stick by our captain while there's a button on our coats
—live or die.” All rose to their feet, as a token of consent,
except two brothers, by the name of Jones. Some
of those who were acquainted with them, observing this,
exclaimed “d—n it, boys, don't he obstinate!” They
were incorrigible—Capt. T. appeared somewhat grieved,
and remonstrated with them in a style calculated to
soothe their tempers. It had no effect—one of them desired
Capt. T. to mind his own business: they were free
men and their own masters, and would act as they pleased.
Both turned pale, and their eyes flashed fire as they
spoke. They, however, were not unmatched: hardly
did they utter the last word, when one Gibson resented
the disrespectful language addressed to Capt. T. He
replied to Jones with much warmth, and with displeasure
in his countenance, “that he might go to h—ll if he
Capt. T. he would send him there instantly.” “Capt.
T. and you are d—d —!” No sooner was this
pronounced than they flew at each other with the rapidity
of lightning.—“No man touch:” was reiterated
by an hundred voices. “Part them,” said others.—
“Stand off,” said the brother of Jones, “or I'll kill the
first man that interferes!”—These exclamations, the undressing
and engagement of the combatants, and the
formation of a ring around them, by the party, were the
business of a moment!—In the meantime, though they
advanced towards each other with the fierceness of tigers,
yet they encountered with cool and deliberate aim,
and not a blow was misplaced, no advantage sought, no
finess resorted to either by one or the other; while the
the most determined courage and presence of mind was
displayed on both sides.—They were equal in weight,
courage, and skill; in short, they were the most equally
matched of any two men in the company; they only differed
in age and wind. For about twenty minutes no advantage
seemed to be gained by either, it was a regular
pass, one after another.—But what equally surprised
me, was the perfect unconcern of the party; with the most
listless indifference one would take a chew of tobacco,
another a pinch of snuff. “That was a durn'd good
blow!” says a third, some would cry “well done Gibson!”
others “well done Jones!” Wilson and myself
who were trembling from head to feet, said nothing, at
least above breath. Wilson once observed to me “I'll
be hanged if they mind it any more than we do a chicken
fight in Virginia!” At the end of half an hour their
well-tried strength began to yield a little; both appeared
fatigued—some cried “part them:” “no man touch!”
said Jones, brother to him who was engaged, “if he
does he must be a better man than me!” “A better man
than you!” quoth Wilson, “he must be a lion then.”—
This might well be applied to a man of his gigantic
appearance; being a much stouter man than the one engaged
in the fight.—“Fight till you die brother: never
give up!” said Jones. “Fight till yo die!” said another
to Gibson, “never give up.” Jones was somewhat
them about equal. At length Gibson staggered, and
the next blow brought him to the ground—“part them!”
said an hundred voices. “No man touch! hands off:
hands off!” was reitered by as many more, in a noise
that rent the air.—The advantage gained by Jones was
momentary; he attempted to keep Gibson down, but in
vain: Gibson turned under him and was on his feet in
a twinkling, and the fight was renewed with redoubled
vigour. How long they would have continued the contest,
is unknown; for Capt. T. cried out, “They have
fought long enough, part them!” several advanced together,
out of the ring, for this purpose, when the
other Jones flew among them, with his gun laying about
him with the butt end of it, flying about in all directions;
some caught hold of the gun, some seized Jones, and others
laid hold of the combatants—amongst whom was
Wilson. As for me, I kept aloof, wishing myself safe
in Boston. Jones, after being disarmed, drew his dirk,
broke from those who held him, and flew amongst the
crowd like a roaring lion. At the same instant, Capt.
T. sprung behind him, caught him by the shoulders, and
brought him to the ground, flat on his back.
He was now overpowered by numbers, while he grated
his teeth, in token of revenge. Had it not been for
this well-timed gallantry in Capt. T., bloodshed would
have been inevitable. The two heroes were now carried
by their respective friends, to a stream of water, to refresh
themselves, and to have the blood washed from
their faces.
Jones, in the mean time, was put under guard, by order
of the Captain. The guard, however, were compelled
to hold him down forcibly, until he became pacified;
which he did in the course of thirty minutes.
“And these are your Tennesseans,” said I to Wilson;
“but they must have studied fighting as an art, if not
as a science. But Capt. T. is a noble fellow. So long
as he lives, we have have nothing to fear; but should
any accident deprive us of him, bad will be our case.—
Nothing but anarchy and bloodshed must ensue.”
Perhaps I never was more mistaken in my calculations!
I found those very men, those Tennesseans, generous,
modest, mild, humane, sincere, and brave—yet peaceable.
What was my astonishment upon looking up, when I
beheld Jones and Gibson walking arm in arm! They
approached the other champion, (Jones) and gently reproved
him for his conduct. He smiled and replied—
“Tere's nothing like taking a brush now and then;
it keeps one's blood in circulation,” and, addressing the
Captain, “why the mischief did'nt you let me alone—I
would only have killed three or four; and d—n the
odds, they'll die, any-how.—Well, boys,” said he addressing
the company, “let's go and hunt the horses, the
Indians have them, no doubt. Just give me ten men,
Captain, and I'll have the horses before I sleep!”
“Agreed,” says the Captain, “choose your men.”
He picked out ten, brave as himself, but not so stout;
and after taking some refreshment, they set out, with the
utmost alacrity—filling their canteens with whiskey, of
which we had yet a plenty.
Thus ended an affair which seemed to threaten the
most alarming consequences! The sick man, I should
think, would have been worse, from affright, if nothing
else. Though I believe it was the means of reviving
him, for he seemed much better. I asked him if he was
not alarmed at the events of the morning. He said no:
and treated it with the utmost indifference. He was very
cheerful, and seemed to promise recovery.
Upon enquiry, we found that Jones and Gibson were
much hurt. And no wonder: the twentieth part of
what either received, would have effectually cured me of
castle-building, in the air, for ever! And so far from
rancour, jealousy, distrust, or coldness, appearing
amongst us this evening, the whole was mirth and conviviality.
Betting, stories, and singing songs, as if
nothing had happened. They put me in mind of the
Irish, in this respect—fight one minute and the next
they will be better friends than ever.
But it was amusing enough, to hear the dialogue which
took place between the two champions. After being
distance, and commenced the following dialogue: Gibson.
You gave me a d—l of a surloinder right
there, (placing his hand upon his side.)
Jones.
Ah! (said Jones, with a rueful countenance)
and you have given me change for it!
Gibson.
Well, after all, I had no idea you were so
tough—why, a body might as well strike the side of a
rock!
Jones.
Why did'nt you cry enough then.
Gibson.
Aye, truly! and why did'nt you cry enough!
Jones.
Well, after all, it's nothing but a dog's calling,
and I'll quit it: say the same and it's a bargain.
Gibson.
Agreed.
Jones.
Never to fight again?
Gibson.
Never!
Upon this they shook hands. And for aught I know,
have kept their engagements. Had I not had sufficient
proof of the sort of men who were absent, in search of
the horses, I might have entertained some doubts of the
expedition. Doubtless they would meet with the Indians;
but they will soon learn whom they have to deal
with. With this reflection, and much less anxiety about
the things of this too deluslve world, than I had hitherto
felt, I laid myself down by the side of Wilson.
These people effectually cured me of many errors—I
had thought this world a mighty matter. I had heard
and read of greatness of soul, wisdom, liberality, magnanimity,
bravery, friendship, and the most profound
philosophy, but never saw it before.
We were embarked in a bad cause, to say the least of
it. It was enterprize improperly directed—it was the
error of youth! But what could not such men as these
achieve—as they have abundantly proved since. These
are the men who distinguished themselves at New-Orleans.
These are the men who gained the most brilliant
victory recorded in history. These are the brave Tennesseans
whose fame has reached distant countries; and
will be transmitted down to latest posterity!
About ten o'clock at night here came Jones, whooping
and hallooing, with the horses. It appeared that
from the account given by Jones, of whom it must be observed,
as a specimen of the people of this country, that
he was not only a stranger to fear, but seemed to court
danger.
Taking the track of the horses, they pursued it through
many windings, to an Indian village. Jones rode up
amidst about an hundred Indians and demanded the horses
instantly—or he would massacre the whole of them.
This was soon made known, through their interpreter.
“Instantly, instantly!” said Jones.
The Indians denied stealing the horses, but said
“they would show us where they were.”
“That was a good one:” said Jones.
“No matter, no matter, move on, move on, show
where they are. If they had not stopped the bells we
could have heard them. Not a mile from the village,
and here we are boys, safe and sound. Give us some
supper, Tawney, (speaking to the man who waited.)
Pony up, pony up, boys, let's talk and have something
to eat. “How are you, Bob?” speaking to his brother.
“Ah!” said Bob, “I feel a little sickish about my
stomach.” “And how are you, Gibson?” “I feel very
stiff and sore,” said Gibson. “I should wonder if you
did not,” said Wilson; though he took care not to speak
very loud. “No danger of the lock-jaw, ha; is there
any hopes of your death? I was afraid when Bob—got
you—down,” said Jones, deliberately eating his supper,
“that it was all over with you. Never saw a fellow
turn so quick, in my life. Well, after all, I'll swear it
was the prettiest fight I ever saw.—Well, curse them
Indians, I can't get them out of my head. Hadn't they
the impudence of the devil—that's true enough. They
had like to a made me mad.”
After eating his supper, with the utmost composure,
Jones went to rest, after making the kindest enquiry after
the sick man's health.
The next morning we set forward on our journey.
The face of the country through which we were travelling,
was low, flat, and in many places, very wet and
marshy. Our course lay over rivulets, which proved
constant. Buffalo and Elks, were often seen; deer were
numerous; also wild sheep and an animal of the hare
kind. This last was very large and very fleet. Our
dogs could by no means keep up with them; these were
numerous. We also saw several wild horses that were
small and indifferent in their appearance.
From the information of the Indians that the further
we advanced the better would be our chance to procure
good horses, we declined, for the present, any attempt
to catch them. They seemed to be very tame and
appeared to apprehend no danger from their intruders.
They walked slowly off from us without seeming to notice
us in the least.
The other wild animals preserved nearly the same indifference
towards us, except the sheep and the hare—
each of which would disappear with the greatest swiftness.
Here, too, we passed the prairy hen, which we
had before seen on both sides of the Mississippi. These
are, in appearance and size, between a pheasant (as it is
called in this country,) and the domestic hen. It is
more like the latter. They cluck like the hen and are
followed by numerous flocks of chickens. My companions
said they were often seen in the farm-yards, among
the settlers, west of the Mississippi, perfectly tame,
and supplied the tables of the settlers. We killed
numbers, and found them delicious. We also found the
prairy dog, as it was called, being a species of the dog
kind. It is, however, more like the fox, but much larger
than any I had ever seen. They were of a very
dark, nearly a black colour.
These animals, as well as the hen, are peculiar to the
prairies. They are great enemies to the hen, upon
which they mostly subsist. Both are numerous. Our
dogs would often pursue the prairy dog—but without
success. The latter would instantly disappear in the
numerous holes which they burrow for themselves in the
ground.
These prairies are covered with wild rye, higher than
the tallest man's head, and so thick that you could not
see a man, on horse-back, at five paces distant. The
with cane.
We pursued our journey, mostly on foot, keeping a
little west of south.—Headed the White river, and
struck the Arkrnsaw river in latitude 36° in four days.
During our journey we found vast masses of pure salt,
which proved very acceptable. The trees had not cast
their leaves. And the animals, quite similar to those I
mentioned, with this difference only—the horses seemed
to be stout, and more shy. The land very fertile, and
covered with wild rye.
Johnson had not yet recovered. In fact he grew
worse, but continued, however, to travel; though at a
slow rate. As we seemed to gain higher and less marshy
ground, we entertained some hopes of his recovery;
but his disease had taken too fast hold of him; and the
doctor gave him up. On account of this unfortunate
circumstance we unanimously agreed to await the issue
on the banks of the Arkansas.
But we waited not long. In twelve hours from the
time we halted, Johnston breathed his last! His easy
death, and the calm composure with which he met it,
might rank him among the most profound philosophers,
if not among the most pious christians.
On the north bank of the Arkansas, a lofty elm looks
down upon the humble tomb of Johnston. Peace to his
shade! He was one of the meekest and most pleasant
young men I ever met with.
After each had paid the tribute of a tear to his memory,
we set forth once more. We crossed the Arkansas,
on a raft, took six, only, of our best horses. Leaving
the rest on the other side of the river. Our baggage
was considerably reduced. Part of it we lost: some was
worn out; and we had but three bushels of Indian corn
remaining!
We were, however, no way disheartened on account
of bread, having cured a quantity of venison, with
the salt mentioned, and dried it in the sun. We found
it a good substitute for bread. Meat, we brought none—
calculating to subsist on game, it being found in great
plenty.
Our amunition, upon which our subsistence depended,
was the only thing which gave us any concern. As long
it lasted, such as we were, we had no obstacles to fear.
Our whole attention, therefore, was turned towards that,
which we husbanded with great care.
When we crosed the river, we caught seven wild horses,
upon which we disposed our baggage, and pursued
our journey. Keeping due south, we arrived at Wahashitta
river, in five days. Latitude 84½°. Still pursuing
a southerly direction, we entered, (as we supposed)
Lower Louisiana in two days. Here we were compelled
to halt, in order to refit, recruit ourselves, and
take medicine.
The death of Johnston had struck a damp on our spirits,
which had already began to flag, on account of the
distance we had travelled, and still more that which was
to come. But now our misfortune wore a more serious
aspect. Several of us being attacked with a fever! At
this place we were gratified with pomegranates, oranges,
and figs, growing wild; but saw no habitation. Whether
this fruit was the spontaneous production of the soil,
or whether, as appeared most likely, the seed was accidentally
dropped, by some adventurous traveller, I have
never been able to learn.
Grapes of various kinds abounded, besides a variety
of other fruit. The forest was perfectly green, and no
appearance that either frost or snow had visited this
mild region. Although the beautiful appearance of the
country, and a fine spring of water was a sufficient indecement
to protract our departure; yet we were apprehensive,
from the marshy ground, which surrounded us,
and which determined us to hasten our departure. But
we were unfortunately detained six days.
On the evening of the second, about an hour before
sun-down, being all collected together, some sitting,
some laying down, some elated by the near approach of
incalculable wealth, and others cursing themselves for
fools, wished all the mines to the d—I! when a tremendous
roaring assailed our ears. Various were the
conjectures respecting it—some said it was wind—others
a water-fall, or a water-course of some sort. It
near. I could not see a tree move, although the roaring
was, to our senses, ready to overwhelm us. I gave myself
up for lost, when our guide cried out with a loud
voice, “Take trees—take trees,” and setting the example.
As there happened to be trees near, every man flew to
a tree, with his gun in hand, expecting nothing less than
an engagement with some foe. Scarcely had each man
gained his tree, when a great number of cattle approached
us, running by at full speed! They rushed by us,
without taking the least notice of us, whatever; several
of our men fired upon them, but it made not the least difference
in their career. Had we not taken shelter behind
the trees the instant we did, we should inevitably
have been maimed, if not crushed to death. There could
not have been less than five hundred!
When the noise had died away, and our guide, to whom
this phenomenon was familiar, was explaining it to us, we
discovered an army of men, on horseback, advancing towards
us at a round gallop They were without saddles
or bridles, and almost without clothes, having on a remnant
only, of what had once been such. They wore no
hats. But instead of them, a piece of cloth was tied on
their heads. They were exceedingly sun-burnt, if they
ever had been fair. There were about thirty of them, in
number. This fantastic group, in the manner they approached,
resembled men broke loose from bedlam, more
than persons in their senses. As they drew near, we
perceived that each of them was armed with a club, from
four to five feet in length; and our party, to a man, made
ready to fire in case of an attack. But they approached
us in perfect peace.
When they discovered us they stopped suddenly, and
appeared no less surprised at us than we were at them.
They gazed at us in silent astonishment. We spoke
first, through our guide, who understood their bad French.
They proved to be Louisianians, whose business it was
to attend those vast herds of cattle, which abound in the
natural meadows, which over-spread the country in this
region.
We found them grossly ignorant, particularly on the
geography of their country. They could give no account
of their towns, number of inhabitants, the productions,
nor even how far they themselves were bound. All that
we could get out of them, was that “they belonged to
the parish of — and were employed by Monsieur
—, to attend his cattle, that we had not seen more
than one half, and that they were driving those home,
which passed by us. We enquired how far they came,
and how far they had to go? but might as well have addressed
the man in the moon.
“They had travelled,” they said, “two days, since
they gathered the cattle.” But of the distance they had
yet before them, they were perfectly ignorant. We asked
them how far they lived from New-Orleans, but these
swarthy sons of Adam, stared at us with awkward stupidity.
Captain T. invited them to stay and spend the
night with us, to which some of them appeared to assent.
But the major part seemed to refuse, alleging they
must stay by the cattle.
One of them, who seemed to be of some consequence
among his fellows, asked “where we were going?”
Jones replied, “to England, to catch herrings!” but
his quiz was lost on these ignorant creatures. They
very generously offered us a part of their scanty allowance
of yams, for which we gave them an equivalent in
money, and they departed. The horses they rode were
greatly superior to those we had seen. And the judgment
and skill with which they managed them was surprising.
At a signal, from the rider, the horses would
proceed or stand still. And the slightest touch of the
hand, on the side of the neck, turned the animal's course
at the pleasure of the rider.
When they left us I felt as though I would have been
glad to accompany them. I began seriously to repent
of my rashness in joining the party, and had it been at
my option again, it certainly would be the last thing I
would do. But the die was cast, and it was in vain to
think of retreat. I certainly did feel melancholy on the
departure of these Frenchmen.
On the morning of the seventh day we set forward
banks of the Red river, as we have since understood, for
at that time we knew not its name. We crossed it in the
morning, and after travelling two days more we discovered
we were bearing too near the gulph. And turning
more to the westward we headed Sabine river in three
days. We had received information from the Indians
whom we met almost every day, that it was much the
best way, the land being less marshy.
We continued to keep the same course, without halting,
except at night, for seven days, when our journey
seemed, in all likelihood, at an end, not by gaining the
object of our journey, but by the obstruction of a great
river! Here we sat down, disposed to rest and reflection.
Our situation at this time was such as would have discouraged
any but Tennesseans. Worn out with fatigue,
some thousand miles from home, with no other food than
what the forest yielded, most of us very young men, a
river which we neither knew the name nor width of,
being unable to see the land on the opposite shore, was
such as to call up every power of the human mind!—
Now, thought I, our Quixotte party must return, for it
is impossible they will have the hardihood to attempt
crossing such a river. No such thing—they were
not made to be intimidated by rivers. And to my astonishment,
set about making a raft, which, with infinite
labour, was completed in four days, and we effected
our landing on the other side in two, all safe! We
were now fairly over the Rubicon. Here we found the
Indians very numerous, much more so than on the other
side, and more intelligent. They gave us plenty of
fruit to eat, and informed us, as near as we could understand
them, that we were within ten days journey of
Mexico! This they did by signs, pointing first to the
sun and then to their fingers, until they told ten.
The country was still more beautiful than that on the
other side of the river. We found the cocoa in plenty;
a few pine-apples and figs, and grapes without number.
But these were poor substitutes for bread. We ate of
them, however, and travelled on, procuring a few yams,
crossing the great river, we began to ascend, as it were.
The low, marshy ground giving place to a more elevated
soil. The productions of which were as beautiful as the
most extravagant fancy could conceive. And in three
days more we reached St. Juan, a considerable village,
inhabited by Spaniards, Indians, and Creoles.
Here we rested three days, and with great difficulty
procured some Indian corn from the inhabitants. Our
guide, or interpreter, rather, for he knew nothing of the
way for the last ten days, with great difficulty made out
to explain to us the conversation of these people. And
their conduct towards us was rather unfriendly. Jealousy,
I could see, was depicted in their countenances.
They interrogated us with a minuteness which plainly
evinced suspicion. Our guide informed them, by whose
instructions heaven only knows, that we were going
to Mexico to form a treaty of amity and commerce, with
their government!! They seemed, as well they might,
not to credit this representation.
If we had acted cowardly, I have no doubt they would,
at least, have attempted to make us prisoners. But
such as we were, and such as we appeared, perfectly at
our ease, regardless of their significant looks, they offered
us no violence.
During our stay at St. Juan, we received no hospitality
from the Spaniards, whatever. What necessaries
we obtained we received from the Indians and Creoles.
In the mean time we endeavoured to obtain some
knowledge of the country, particularly that which lay
between us and Mexico, such as its towns, population,
and mines. Our enquiries were principally addressed
to the Indians, but they maintained the strictest silence
on all these subjects, at least so far as ever came to my
knowledge.
Whatever the rest of the party felt on this occasion, I
for one, became completely discouraged. I saw plainly,
that we had laboured in vain; and that our tedious and
perilous journey had turned out to be, a perfectly Quixotic
expedition. We were, at least, two thousand miles
from home; and what were our prospects?
Wilson's chivalrous spirit had effectually subsided;
but he would be guided by Captain T. who kept up the
spirits of the party, and, apparently, his own.
Some of our men took an excursion through the surrounding
country; but, making no discovery to their
liking, we, Don Quixote like, set forward towards Mexico.
After leaving St. Juan, we kept a south-west
course, and made diligent search for a rich silver mine,
which we understood to lie in that direction.
I now discovered, for the first time, that the silver
mine was the object. I had, indeed, been told enough
to know, that silver or gold was, in fact, the object of
this infatuated journey; though nothing had expressly
transpired from those who were in the secret. But on
the morning of the second day after leaving St. Juan,
the whole of the plan, displayed at length on paper, was
submitted for the inspection of every individual in the
company.
The richness of the mine, its situation, &c. were
clearly pointed out. It was represented to be two hundred
and eighty miles north-west from Mexico. We
concluded that we were within four hundred miles of
that city, and resolved to search every inch of the intervening
ground, lest we might overlook an object that
had already cost us its full value, let that be what it
might. I felt somewhat relieved upon learning that the
object of this perilous undertaking was a little less than
storming the city of Mexico.
We now spread out, in all directions, over the plain;
anxiously examining every little aperture, and every
eminence; pulling up the weeds and looking at the earth
that adhered to the roots. Sad and silent, I walked on,
not caring whither, though often forced to smile at the
eagerness and industry of my companions; particularly
one of them, who ran to me, in great haste, to know
what a silver mine was like. I told him I did not know,
myself, as I had never seen one.
In short, we continued to wander about, making but
little progress in a straight line, owing to our often separating.
We saw several Indians; but paid little attention
found very difficult.
On the seventh day after leaving St. Juan, Wilson and
myself had separated from the company, as we had often
done before. But, on this day, we were mutually resolved
to withdraw, secretly, from the party, and make
our way home, by New-Orleans. We had some idea of
the course and distance of Vera Cruz; and, should we
be so fortunate as to find it, we would attempt a passage
to New-Orleans. We had money enough, between us,
for every purpose; and, should we fail in making the
port of Vera Cruz, we determined at once to go to Mexico,
and throw ourselves on the mercy of the Spaniards.
Finally, we determined to hazard every thing, rather
than stay longer from home.
Having formed this resolution, and being almost fainting
from weariness, and want of food, we stretched
ourselves on the ground to gain a little refreshment
from sleep, fully determined to adopt our plan when we
arose.
| CHAPTER IV. The Tennessean | |