Thrilling Adventures by Land and Sea - James O. Brayman
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'Are you a good, moral man, of well-regulated habits?' asked the
sergeant.
'Can give a hundred certificates, if necessary, I hastily replied.
'I rather think you'll do,' said the officer with a smile, and he
enrolled me as a soldier. 'When do you wish to leave?'
'Now--to-night--to-morrow--any time,' I eagerly answered.
'Promptness is a good quality, you will make a good soldier. Get ready
to start at eight o'clock in the morning, for Newport, Ky.'
'I will be ready,' and, rushing from the room, I hastened home, packed
up my things, and threw myself down on the bed to sleep. But it was
impossible. Heavy thoughts were crowding my mind with lightning speed,
and I resolved to depart the next day, without bidding adieu to father
or mother, sister or brother; but feeling a deep respect, which I held
for my father's advice, would prevail and I should be induced to remain
at home. I made the resolve and carried it out. The next morning I was
at the office by seven o'clock, was furnished with a suit of
regimentals, and departed for the railroad depot to start for Wheeling.
As I hurried along, who should turn the corner of the street but
Eveline, and we met for the last time on earth. I informed her of my
intentions, and, without manifesting any disposition of regret at my
departure, she gaily said: "'Good bye, and may good luck attend you,'
and she glided away.
"A new fuel was added to my desire to hasten from such scenes; and I
had soon left the town for the Ohio. I will not weary you with further
details, as my breath is failing fast. Suffice it to say I arrived in
Mexico, and, here I am, perishing by inches upon the battle-field.
"Here," he continued, "is a ring," taking one from his finger, and
presenting it to me, "which was given me by Eveline as a bond of our
marriage contract. I have worn it ever since, and, as I told her then,
'it shall leave me but with my death,' Take it to her, when you get
back, and, if she be not married, give it to her, and tell her he who
sent it never forgot her for a single moment, even in his dying hour,
and is lying beneath the clods of a foreign soil. This Bible, give back
to my father, and tell him I have studied its precepts: to my mother and
sisters, say that I have sent them a son's and brother's dying love;
tell my brothers to beware of human strife."
He faltered in his speech, and then murmuring, "I am going," pressed my
hand feebly and expired. I dug a lone grave upon the field, and laid him
to "sleep his last sleep," until that day when all shall be summoned to
a final account.
One year rolled on, and how chequered by passing events! Chapultepec had
fallen, the city of Mexico was taken, and peace, thrice glorious peace,
had waved her pinions over the land of war. The volunteers were joyfully
hastening to their homes, and, among the rest, I once more trod my
native land, a freeman again in heart and soul. A spell of sickness at
first confined me several weeks, but at length I rose wearied and feeble
from my bed, and my physicians recommended a change of air. I traveled
into Virginia, and one evening I entered the town of G----h. I inquired
for the family of my friend, and was directed to a fine-looking building
upon the principal street. I advanced and rang the bell, and anxiously
waited an answer. At length the door opened, and an old grey-headed man
stood before me, the lines of his face marked by care, and his whole
appearance betokened one who had a deep grief at heart.
"Mr. ----, I presume?" said I, bowing.
"The same, sir; won't you walk in?" replied the old man, politely.
I entered the house, and was soon seated in the parlor, when the old man
started to leave the room.
"I have something of importance for your private ear," said I, hastily.
He turned towards me, and taking the Bible from my pocket, I held it up
to view. Quicker than thought, the aged father sprang forward, caught
the book in his hand, and murmured, as the tears fell slowly over his
aged cheeks:
"My son, my son, you bring news of him."
"I do, but it is very bad," I answered, my voice trembling as I spoke,
and I retold to him the scenes upon the battle-field.
When I had finished, the old man clasped his hands in agony, and,
raising his eyes toward the ceiling, exclaimed, in deep and fervent
tones, "God's will be done!"
At this moment, a young lady of pale, care-worn countenance entered the
parlor, and, rising, I said, "Miss Eveline ----, I believe?"
"The same," she calmly replied.
As her eyes glanced at the ring, which I silently presented, she
stretched forth her hand, grasped it convulsively, then fell suddenly
forward upon the carpet, the blood oozing rapidly from her mouth. The
terrible ordeal had broken a blood-vessel, and her spirit passed
unchecked to another world.
A plain, marble slab, in the graveyard of the town of G----h, upon which
is engraved the lone word, "Eveline," marks the last resting place of
the betrothed of the Dying Volunteer.
ESCAPE FROM A MEXICAN QUICKSAND
BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
A few days afterward, another adventure befell me; and I began to think
I was destined to become a hero among the "mountain men."
A small party of the traders--myself among the number--had pushed
forward ahead of the caravan. Our object was to arrive at Santa Fe a day
or two before the wagons, in order to have every thing arranged with the
governor for their entrance into the capital. We took the route by
the Cimmaron.
Our road, for a hundred miles or so, lay through a barren desert,
without game, and almost without water. The buffalo had all disappeared,
and deer were equally scarce. We had to content ourselves on the dried
meat which we had brought from the settlements. We were in the deserts
of the artemisia. Now and then we could see a stray antelope bounding
away before us, but keeping far out of range. They, too, seemed to be
unusually shy.
On the third day after leaving the caravan, as we were riding near the
Cimmaron, I thought I observed a pronged head disappearing behind a
swell in the prairie. My companions were skeptical, and none of them
would go with me; so, wheeling out of trail, I started alone. One of
them--for Gode was behind--kept charge of my dog, as I did not choose to
take him with me, lest he might alarm the antelopes. My horse was fresh
and willing; and, whether successful or not, I knew I could easily
overtake the party by camping-time.
I struck directly toward the spot where I had seen the object. It
appeared to be only half a mile or so from the trail. It proved more
distant--a common illusion in the crystal atmosphere of these
upland regions.
A curiously formed ridge, traversed the plain from east to west. A
thicket of cactus covered part of its summit. Toward the thicket I
directed myself.
I dismounted at the bottom of the slope, and leading my horse silently
up among the cactus plants, tied him to one of their branches. I then
cautiously crept through the thorny leaves toward the point where I
fancied I had seen the game. To my joy, not one antelope, but a brace of
those beautiful animals, was quietly grazing beyond; but alas! too far
off for the carry of my rifle. They were fully three hundred yards
distant, upon a smooth, grassy slope. There was not even a sage bush to
cover me, should I attempt to approach them. What was to be done?
I lay for several minutes, thinking over the different tricks, known in
hunter craft, for taking the antelope. Should I imitate their call?
Should I hoist my handkerchief and try to lure them up? I saw that they
were too shy; for, at short intervals, they threw up their graceful
heads, and looked inquiringly around them. I remembered the red blanket
on my saddle. I could display this upon the cactus-bushes, perhaps it
would attract them.
I had no alternative; and was turning to go back for the blanket; when,
all at once, my eye rested upon a clay-colored line, running across the
prairie, beyond where the animals were feeding. It was a break in the
plain, a buffalo road, or the channel of an _arroyo_, in either case,
the very cover I wanted, for the animals were not a hundred yards from
it; and were getting still nearer to it as they fed.
Creeping back out of the thicket, I ran along the side of the slope
toward a point, where I had noticed that the ridge was depressed to the
prairie level. Here, to my surprise, I found myself on the banks of a
broad arroyo, whose water, clear and shallow, ran slowly over a bed of
sand and gypsum.
The banks were low, not over three feet above the surface of the water,
except where the ridge impinged upon the stream. Here there was a high
bluff; and, hurrying around its base, I entered the channel, and
commenced wading upward.
As I had anticipated, I soon came to a bend where the stream, after
running parallel to the ridge, swept around and canoned through it. At
this place I stopped, and looked cautiously over the bank. The antelopes
had approached within less than rifle range of the arroyo; but they were
yet far above my position. They were still quietly feeding, and
unconscious of danger. I again bent down and waded on.
It was a difficult task proceeding in this way. The bed of the creek was
soft and yielding, and I was compelled to tread slowly and silently,
lest I should alarm the game; but I was cheered in my exertions by the
prospect of fresh venison for my supper.
After a weary drag of several hundred yards, I came opposite to a small
clump of wormwood bushes, growing out of the bank. "I may be high
enough," thought I, "these will serve for cover."
I raised my body gradually, until I could see through the leaves. I was
in the right spot. I brought my rifle to a level; sighted for the heart
of the buck, and fired. The animal leaped from the ground, and fell back
lifeless. I was about to rush forward, and secure my prize, when I
observed the doe, instead of running off as I expected, go up to her
fallen partner, and press her tapering nose to his body. She was not
more than twenty yards from me, and I could plainly see that her look
was one of inquiry and bewilderment. All at once, she seemed to
comprehend the fatal truth; and, throwing back her head, commenced
uttering the most piteous cries, at the same time running in circles
around the body.
I stood wavering between two minds. My first impulse had been to reload,
and kill the doe; but her plaintive voice entered my heart, disarming me
of all hostile intentions. Had I dreamed of witnessing this painful
spectacle, I should not have left the trail. But the mischief was now
done. "I have worse than killed her," thought I, "it will be better to
despatch her at once."
Actuated by these principles of common, but to her fatal, humanity, I
rested the butt of my rifle, and reloaded. With a faltering hand, I
again leveled the piece and fired:
My nerves were steady enough to do the work. When the smoke floated
aside, I could see the little creature bleeding upon the grass--her
head resting upon the body of her murdered mate.
I shouldered my rifle, and was about to move forward, when, to my
astonishment, I found that I was caught by the feet. I was held firmly
as if my legs had been held in a vice.
I made an effort to extricate myself; another, more violent, and equally
unsuccessful, and, with a third, I lost my balance, and fell back upon
the water. Half suffocated, I regained my upright position, but only to
find that I was held as fast as ever. Again I struggled to free my
limbs. I could neither move them backward nor forward--to the right nor
the left; and I became sensible that I was gradually going down. Then
the fearful truth flashed upon me--I was sinking in a quicksand! A
feeling of horror came over me. I renewed my efforts with the energy of
desperation. I leaned to one side, then to the other, almost wrenching
my knees from their sockets. My feet remained as fast as ever. I could
not move them an inch.
The soft, clingy sand already overtopped my horse-skin boots, wedging
them around my ankles, so that I was unable to draw them off; and I
could feel that I was still sinking slowly but surely, as though some
subterraneous monster was leisurely dragging me down. This very thought
caused me a fresh thrill of horror, and I called aloud for help. To
whom? There was no one within miles of me--no living thing. Yes! the
neigh of my horse answered me from the hill, mocking me in my despair.
I bent forward as well as my constrained position would permit; and,
with frenzied fingers commenced tearing up the sand. I could barely
reach the surface, and the little hollow I was able to make filled up
almost as soon as it had been formed. A thought occurred to me. My rifle
might support me, placed horizontally. I looked for it. It was not to be
seen. It had sunk beneath the sand. Could I throw my body flat, and
prevent myself from sinking deeper? No! The water was two feet in depth.
I should drown at once. This last hope left me as soon as formed. I
could think of no plan to save myself. I could make no further effort. A
strange stupor seized upon me. My very thoughts became paralyzed. I knew
that I was going mad. For a moment I was mad.
After an interval, my senses returned. I made an effort to rouse my mind
from its paralysis, in order that I might meet death, which I now
believed to be certain, as a man should. I stood erect. My eyes had sunk
to the prairie level, and rested upon the still bleeding victims of my
cruelty. My heart smote me at the sight. Was I suffering a retribution
of God? With humbled and penitent thoughts, I turned my face to heaven,
almost dreading that some sign of omnipotent anger would scowl upon me
from above. But no! The sun was shining as bright as ever; and the blue
canopy of the world was without a cloud. I gazed upward with earnestness
known only to the hearts of men in positions of peril like mine.
As I continued to look up, an object attracted my attention. Against the
sky, I distinguished the outlines of a large bird. I knew it to be the
obscene bird of the plains, the buzzard vulture. Whence had it come? Who
knows? Far beyond the reach of human eye, it had seen or scented the
slaughtered antelopes; and, on broad, silent wing was now descending to
the feast of death. Presently another, and another, and many others,
mottled the blue field of the heavens, curving and wheeling silently
earthward. Then the foremost swooped down upon the bank, and, after
gazing around for a moment, flapped off toward its prey. In a few
seconds, the prairie was black with filthy birds, who clambered over the
dead antelopes, and beat their wings against each other, while they tore
out the eyes of the quarry with their fetid beaks. And now came gaunt
wolves, sneaking and hungry, stealing out of the cactus thicket; and
loping, coward-like, over the green swells of the prairie. These, after
a battle, drove away the vultures, and tore up the prey, all the while
growling and snapping vengefully at each other. "Thank heaven! I shall
at least be saved from this."
I was soon relieved from the sight. My eyes had sunk below the level of
the bank. I had looked my last on the fair, green earth. I could now see
only the clayey wall that contained the river, and the water that ran
unheeding past me. Once more I fixed my gaze upon the sky, and, with
prayerful heart, endeavored to resign myself to my fate. In spite of my
endeavors to be calm, the memories of earthly pleasures, and friends,
and home, came over me, causing me, at intervals, to break into wild
paroxysms, and make fresh, though fruitless struggles. And I was
attracted by the neighing of my horse. A thought entered my mind,
filling me with fresh hope. "Perhaps my horse--" I lost not a moment. I
raised my voice to its highest pitch, and called the animal by name. I
knew that he would come at my call. I had tied him but slightly. The
cactus limb would snap off. I called again, repeating words that were
well known to him. I listened with a bounding heart. For a moment there
was silence. Then I heard the quick sounds of his hoof, as though the
animal was rearing and struggling to free himself; then I could
distinguish the stroke of his heels, in a measured and regular gallop.
Nearer came the sounds; nearer and clearer, until the gallant brute
bounded out on the bank above me. There he halted, and, flinging back
his tossed mane, uttered a shrill neigh. He was bewildered, and looked
upon every side, snorting loudly.
I knew that, having once seen me, he would not stop until he had pressed
his nose against my cheek--for this was his usual custom. Holding out my
hands I again uttered the magic words. Now looking downward he perceived
me, and, stretching himself, sprang out into the channel. The next
moment, I held him by the bridle. There was no time to be lost. I was
still going down, and my arm-pits were fast nearing the surface of the
quicksand. I caught the lariat, and, passing it under the saddle-girths,
fastened it in a tight, firm knot. I then looped the trailing end,
making it secure around my body. I had left enough of the rope, between
the bit-ring and the girths, to enable me to check and guide the animal,
in case the drag upon my body should be too painful.
All this while the dumb brute seemed to comprehend what I was about. He
knew, too, the nature of the ground on which he stood, for, during the
operation, he kept lifting his feet alternately to prevent himself from
sinking. My arrangements were at length completed, and, with a feeling
of terrible anxiety, I gave my horse the signal to move forward. Instead
of going off with a start, the intelligent animal stepped away slowly,
as though he understood my situation. The lariat tightened, I felt my
body moving, and the next moment experienced a wild delight, a feeling I
can not describe, as I found myself dragged out of the sand. I sprang to
my feet with a shout of joy. I rushed up to my steed, and, throwing my
arms around his neck, kissed him with as much delight as I would have
kissed a beautiful girl. He answered my embrace with a low whimper, that
told me that I was understood.
I looked for my rifle. Fortunately, it had not sunk deeply, and I soon
found it. My boots were behind me, but I staid not to look for them,
being smitten with a wholesome dread of the place where I had left them.
I was not long in retreating from the arroyo; and, mounting, I galloped
back to the trail. It was sundown before I reached the camp, where I was
met by the inquiries of my companions. I answered all their questions by
relating my adventures, and, for that night, I was again the hero of the
camp-fire.
CHASED BY A RHINOCEROS.
On the 22d, says Mr. Cumming, ordering my men to move on toward a
fountain in the center of the plain, I rode forth with Ruyter, and held
east through a grove of lofty and wide-spreading mimosas, most of which
were more or less damaged by the gigantic strength of a troop of
elephants, which had passed there about twelve months before. Having
proceeded about two miles with large herds of game on every side, I
observed a crusty-looking, old bull borele, or black rhinoceros, cocking
his ears one hundred yards in advance. He had not observed us; and soon
after he walked slowly toward us, and stood broadside to, eating some
wait-a-bit thorns within fifty yards of me. I fired from my saddle, and
sent a bullet in behind his shoulder, upon which he rushed forward about
one hundred yards in tremendous consternation, blowing like a grampus,
and then stood looking about him. Presently he made off. I followed but
found it hard to come up with him. When I overtook him I saw the blood
running freely from his wound.
[Illustration: ESCAPE FROM THE RHINOCEROS]
The chase led through a large herd of blue wildebeests, zebras, and
springboks, which gazed at us in utter amazement. At length I fired my
second barrel, but my horse was fidgety, and I missed. I continued
riding alongside of him, expecting in my ignorance that at length he
would come to bay, which rhinoceroses never do; when suddenly he fell
flat on his broadside on the ground, but recovering his feet, resumed
his course as if nothing had happened. Becoming at last annoyed at the
length of the chase, as I wished to keep my horses fresh for the
elephants, and being indifferent whether I got the rhinoceros or not, as
I observed that his horn was completely worn down with age and the
violence of his disposition, I determined to bring matters to a crisis;
so, spurring my horse, I dashed ahead, and rode right in his path. Upon
this, the hideous monster instantly charged me in the most resolute
manner, blowing loudly through his nostrils; and, although I quickly
wheeled about to my left, he followed me at such a furious pace for
several hundred yards, with his horrid horny snout within a few yards of
my horse's tail, that my little Bushman, who was looking on in great
alarm, thought his master's destruction inevitable. It was certainly a
very near thing; my horse was extremely afraid, and exerted his utmost
energies on the occasion. The rhinoceros, however, wheeled about, and
continued his former course; and I, being perfectly satisfied with the
interview which I had already enjoyed with him, had no desire to
cultivate his acquaintance any further, and accordingly made for camp.
BURNING OF THE ERIE.
The steamboat Erie, under command of Captain Titus, left the dock at
Buffalo on the afternoon of August 9th, 1841, laden with merchandise,
destined for Chicago. As nearly as could be ascertained, she had on
board about two hundred persons, including passengers and crew.
The boat had been thoroughly overhauled and recently varnished. At the
moment of her starting, though the wind was blowing fresh, every thing
promised a pleasant and prosperous voyage. Nothing occured to mar this
prospect till about eight o'clock in the evening, when the boat was off
Silver Creek, about eight miles from the shore, and thirty-three miles
from the city, when a slight explosion was heard, and immediately,
almost instantaneously, the whole vessel was enveloped in flames. Among
the passengers were six painters, who were going to Erie to paint the
steamboat Madison. They had with them some demijohns filled with spirits
of turpentine and varnish, which, unknown to Captain Titus, were placed
on the boiler-deck directly over the boilers. One of the firemen who was
saved, says he had occasion to go on deck, and seeing the demijons,
removed them. They were replaced, but by whom is not known. Their
inflammable contents undoubtedly aided the flames in their
rapid progress.
Captain Titus, who was on the upper deck at the time of the explosion,
rushed to the ladies' cabin to obtain the life-preservers, of which
there were about one hundred on board; but, so violent was the heat, he
found it impossible to enter the cabin. He returned to the upper deck,
on his way giving orders to the engineer to stop the engine, the wind
and the headway of the boat increasing the fierceness of the flames and
driving them aft. The engineer replied, that in consequence of the
flames he could not reach the engine. The steersman was instantly
directed to put the helm hard a-starboard. She swung slowly around,
heading to the shore, and the boats--there were three on board--were
then ordered to be lowered. Two of the boats were lowered, but, in
consequence of the heavy sea on, and the headway of the vessel, they
both swamped as soon as they touched the water.
We will not attempt to describe the awful and appalling condition of the
passengers. Some were frantic with fear and horror, others plunged
headlong madly into the water, others again seized upon any thing
buoyant upon which they could lay hands. The small boat forward had been
lowered. It was alongside the wheel, with three or four persons in it,
when the captain jumped in, and the boat immediately dropped astern,
filled with water. A lady floated by with a life-preserver on. She cried
for help. There was no safety in the boat. The captain threw her the
only oar in the boat. She caught the oar and was saved. It was Mrs.
Lynde of Milwaukie, and she was the only lady who escaped.
In this condition, the boat, a mass of fierce fire, and the passengers
and crew endeavoring to save themselves by swimming or supporting
themselves by whatever they could reach, they were found by the
steamboat Clinton, at about ten o'clock that night. The Clinton had left
Buffalo in the morning, but, in consequence of the wind, had put into
Dunkirk. She lay there till near sunset, at which time she ran out, and
had proceeded as far as Barcelona, when just at twilight the fire of the
Erie was discovered, some twenty miles astern. The Clinton immediately
put about, and reached the burning wreck.
It was a fearful sight. All the upper works of the Erie had been burned
away. The engine was standing, but the hull was a mass of dull, red
flames. The passengers and crew were floating around, screaming in their
agony, and shrieking for help. The boats of the Clinton were instantly
lowered and manned, and every person that could be seen or heard was
picked up, and every possible relief afforded. The Lady, a little
steamboat lying at Dunkirk, went out of that harbor as soon as possible,
after the discovery of the fire, and arrived soon after the Clinton. By
one o'clock in the morning, all was still except the melancholy
crackling of the flames. Not a solitary individual could be seen or
heard on the wild waste of waters. A line was then made fast to the
remains of the Erie's rudder, and an effort made to tow the hapless hulk
ashore. About this time the Chautauque came up and lent her assistance.