Life and bloody career of the executed criminal, James Copeland, the great Southern Land pirate

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Title: Life and bloody career of the executed criminal, James Copeland, the great Southern Land pirate
Author: Pitts, J. R. S.
Language: English
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LIFE AND BLOODY CAREER

of the executed criminal,

JAMES COPELAND,

THE GREAT

SOUTHERN LAND PIRATE

LEADER OF A DEVASTATING CLAN
RANGING OVER A GREAT PORTION OF THE NATION,
PARTICULARLY THE GULF STATES, SPREADING TERROR AND INSECURITY
EVERYWHERE.

MYSTIC ALPHABET OF THE CLAN,

FOR THEIR SECRET CORRESPONDENCE,
GIVING A LIST OF ALL THE MEMBERS THROUGHOUT THE UNION,
WITH AN APPENDIX OF

PROFOUND RESEARCH,

BRINGING TO LIGHT MORE OF CRIME, CORRUPTION AND DISSIMULATION,
UNVEILING THE MANY WAYS IN WHICH TALENT,
WEALTH AND INFLUENCE HAVE GIVEN ASSISTANCE.

[Illustration: Decorative Image]

BY DR. J. R. S. PITTS.

[Illustration: Decorative Image]

JACKSON, MISS.:

PILOT PUBLISHING COMPANY, PRINTERS AND BINDERS,
1874.

Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1874, by

DR. J. R. S. PITTS,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.

The author of the ensuing publication was born in Effingham county,
Georgia. His grandfather, Dr. Soda, was a native of Cologne, an ancient
city on the Rhine, in Prussia. Here educated to the science of physic,
he afterwards became a practicing physician. Rather early in life,
he came to the United States of America, and settled in the city of
Savannah, Georgia, where the remainder of his life, some thirty years,
was spent. Here, and during this time, he practiced in the medical
profession with success and distinction. He married an American lady,
the issue from which consisted in only one son and one daughter, Robert
and Jane Rosettah.

About the year 1830, the latter, with J. G. W. Pitts, were married in
the city of Savannah, Georgia. The result from this nuptial union is
the existence of the “author.” With him, in 1834, his parents removed
from Georgia to Rankin county, near Brandon, Mississippi; but the wife
and mother did not long survive afterward, as will be seen from the
following record found in the family Bible:

“Mrs. Jane Rosettah Pitts, wife of J. G. W. Pitts, departed this life
the 7th day of January, A. D., 1835, in the 21st year of her age, after
severely suffering under a complicated disease of two years’ standing,
which battled the skill of the best physicians.”

The author was left an orphan at a very early age—only two years
old. He was consigned over to the guardian care of an affectionate
grandmother, who performed the charge both creditably to herself and in
perfect accord with the welfare of the infant entrusted to her charge.

He was sent to school as early as convenience would permit, and, at
intervals, continued until the age of twenty-one, when his friends
brought him out for Sheriff of Perry county. At this period he left the
school-room, and forthwith entered on the canvass, which resulted in
his successful election by a handsome majority.

For some four years he continued in this office, during which time
the painful duty devolved on him of executing James Copeland, the
subject of the present work. Next came his memorable trial in the city
of Mobile, Alabama, to answer an inveterate prosecution for libel—a
trial which involved the best talent of the bar, and resulted in the
conviction of the author by such means as truly gave only the shadows
of victory to the straining prosecution, and triumph in real substance
to the defence.

At a very early age, the author manifested a preference for the study
of medicine, and in his capacity of Sheriff, his leisure hours, apart
from the requirements of his office, were spent in making proficiency
in his favorite science; and still more so after his trial—immediately
following which he attended a medical college with ardor and assiduity,
and ever since has been engaged in the practice of his profession.

INTRODUCTION.

There is, perhaps, nothing within the sphere of human operations which
more affect the present and future generations, either for good or
evil, than a faithful narration of history and biography. But the
effects, either for better or worse, depend pretty much on the comments
and conclusions of the historian and biographer themselves. He may
have an unprejudiced mind, he may chronicle the events of a nation
faithfully and correctly, and he may be capable of delineating the
mighty strokes and nicer shades of individual character with all the
force and brilliancy which extraordinary genius can command; but if
his deductions or inferences be unsound or erroneous, the effects will
extend to all parts of society, both the present and the future.

For instance, and as an illustration, the poet said of Lord Bacon:

“The greatest, the wisest, and the _meanest_ of mankind.”

This is a forcible declaration, and one that belongs to the true
philosophy which others must adopt before they can be the real
benefactors of mankind. Had the poet gone further, and particularized
the conduct of this great man, in what consisted his exalted virtues,
and wherein he has contributed so much to the benefit of after
ages—giving him credit for all this, and stamping it with true glory,
admiration and immortality—holding up the same as worthy of imitation
for aspiring youth; and then followed by a painful portrayal of
his enormous vices which have had their share in producing so much
corruption and misery on society at large—making manifest, according
to the declaration of another poet, that “an honest man is the noblest
work of God;” and that it is far better to be honest, though humble,
than to have a combination of character of all which is great and all
which is mean; let it be repeated, had the poet drawn his lines in some
such manner, far happier might have been the result.

Again, war is the scourge of humanity. Of all woes, there are none
which can be compared to the horrors of protracted warfare. Neither
tongue nor pen can adequately depict the miseries which flow in the
train of consequences. The rust, disease, exposure and pestilence of
camp life; the crowded hospitals of accumulated wretchedness; the sweat
and smoke—the blood and groans of the red battle-field; these form
but a very small part of the dire afflictions which flow from hostile
collisions of this nature—to say nothing of the burdens entailed on
posterity by waste of treasure—leaving an interminable debt to oppress
generations yet unborn!

Here the fashionable historian has a fine field to work in. In dazzling
colors he gilds and paints in profusion. He largely expatiates on
the stratagems, the manœuvering, and the master strokes of policy
displayed by the commanding General. In matchless grandeur he draws his
lines, made conspicuous by gleaming swords and bristling bayonets. He
plants his thundering batteries on every eminence within the scope of
vision. Now open the scenes of death and carnage. Red flashes, black
smoke and leaden hail extend from every spot of falling conflict. Hand
to hand, foot to foot, breast to breast. First one and then another
of distinguished officers dropping, “covered all over with immortal
glory.” Grounds taken and retaken. One wing giving away, another
pressing victoriously onward over heaps of the slain. Here stubbornly
contested, then riding on the fiery wings of battle overpowering all
opposition—producing rout, defeat and dreadful slaughter on every road
of retreat. Such animating descriptions animate other armies and other
Generals. Not only is the impetuous enthusiasm of the common soldier
excited, but also the ardor and emulation of the General himself. The
young, the old—all seem to desire more opportunities to occur for the
exercise of prowess, as well as for further demonstrations of martial
glory. But it is quite possible to conceive how the historian could
have produced quite a contrary effect. By degrading all that appertains
to warfare, and by holding up to public scorn and indignation the
brutal and hellish scenes involved for purposes of rapine, plunder or
false notions of honor; by descriptions of this sort war might be held
in a very different estimation to what it now is.

But is the present course of the historian’s pen altogether erroneous?
Perhaps not. The inordinate rapacity and selfishness of human nature
must be taken into account. The overpowering propensity for conquest,
might against right, must be considered. A nation extremely rich
in agricultural productions, in manufacturing commodities, and in
everything else pertaining to wealth, yet effeminately weak in spirit
and incompetent for physical protection, will stand a poor chance
against the trained hordes who prefer plunder and conquest to any other
pursuit. So far, then, the historian’s pen is not misapplied in keeping
alive and active the bravery and martial spirit of a nation to secure
its own against the unscrupulous encroachments of other nations, or
against the wild infatuations of parts of the same nation.

In this department the true and correct province of the pen is to
encourage, by all honorable means, bravery, magnanimity, and all other
generous traits of a great nation, consistent with safety or security
in the future, determined to maintain the right, and equally so not
to yield anything to wrong through abject fear of consequences; at
the same time favoring forbearance and exhausting all honorable means
before the last resort of warfare be put in execution; while not
forgetting to impress that external warfare or internal rebellion
generally leave behind worse evils than those intended to be removed.
A little reflection, then, must convince all of the vast and mighty
influences which the historian and biographer exercise on society and
nations at large, either for good or evil, according to the range or
sphere occupied.

The life of the condemned criminal, James Copeland, who expiated his
blood-stained career on the scaffold, together with the history of
the alarming and extensive clan, which, for many long years, produced
a perfect reign of terror over such a broad expanse of territory
in this nation, and of which said James Copeland formed one of the
principal leaders in the clan—clearly showing the causes which favored
the progress, as well as the causes which produced dismemberment and
final dissolution—such a life and history cannot fail, even at this
late date, after so long an interval of unavoidable interruption, of
materially interesting and benefitting the public at large.

James Copeland was executed in 1857. His life and the history of the
clan were published in 1858. The sale of the work was progressing
wonderfully when a ruinous prosecution commenced against the author
in Mobile, in another State, Alabama, for libel on several parties
by the names of Messrs. Overall, Moulton and Cleaveland; the former
being the principal actor in this prosecution, at least overtly so.
This circumstance, in connection with the crippling of the author’s
pecuniary resources, together with the all-absorbing questions involved
in the late internal war, through which we have just passed, prevented
any but the first edition from appearing, which only circulated in a
very limited extent of territory.

The obstacles here referred to are now pretty much out of the way.
Opportunity is offered for republication on a far broader basis than
before. Time is the corrector of errors and excesses. Heated passions
give way to sober reason. In the enlarged edition which will shortly
appear, impartial minds will at once discover that the principal object
is to do justice to all—injury to no one; but this course will not
exclude the guilty from exposure, yet it will endeavor to exonerate the
innocent who may have been accused through misnomer or by inadvertent
mistake.

Great and influential men league together, sometimes for worthy
purposes, but often for unworthy ones. It is very easy to entertain
the idea that a young man just setting out in the public walks of
life without the prestige of the distinguished, can easily be broken
down, no matter how foully the means resorted to for accomplishment.
It is strange that Governor McWillie, of the State of Mississippi,
should have so tamely and willingly given up the author to the laws of
another State, and more especially to the particular locality where
the designing influence of the prosecutors so widely extended, while
well knowing that the author could have had no motive or interest in
accusing or misrepresenting any—not previously knowing anything, either
of name or person, in relation to the prosecuting parties, either of
good or bad—only publishing in substance the unaltered revelations as
made by the convict himself, the truth of which he sealed with his
last dying breath on the scaffold; and while Governor McWillie, with
hundreds of others, have known from previous experience the truth
of the principal particulars as related by Copeland himself. This
notorious clan was not only a terror to almost every part of this
State, but also of many others. But all this belongs to the past,
and is only now alluded to in order to give a right understanding of
all the facts and circumstances connected with the whole affair from
beginning to end.

Truth and justice, by oppression and by forces foul, may be held down
for awhile, but the increasing and progressive power of the springs
will break and throw off the impediments—again bursting forth in vigor
and strength not to be crushed nor repressed by sophistry nor by the
influences of money and distinguished officials.

G. Y. Overall was the principal open prosecutor of the three. It was
clearly evinced on trial that there were other Overalls, and, to the
satisfaction of the jury, it was to one of these whom Copeland referred
to in his confessions; consequently, the public sentiment was in no
way changed or weakened by the proceedings of the trial; but, on the
contrary, was largely strengthened in favor of the substantial truths
of the confessions.

Hon. P. Walker, the counsel for defense, maintained the same; and,
further, that G. Y. Overall had not a shadow of right on his side for
instituting the prosecution.

The author is frank to confess, from the testimony produced on trial,
that G. Y. Overall established his innocence so far as he was concerned
in point of time as specified in Copeland’s confessions. But if
this had been his only object, why not have rested satisfied with a
verdict in his favor which could not have failed to have been rendered
without any injury to either the author or the “confessions?” Why
did he, in combination with others, resort to means so disreputable,
as will afterwards be shown, to crush the author or publisher, who
before did not know him, and could not have had any enmity or sordid
motive against him, as well as for the purpose of destroying the
“confessions,” the major parts of which were well known to be strictly
true? Why one part of the witnesses so infamous and in every way so
suspicious? Why the strange and oscillating conduct of the Judge in
varying his charges to the Jury at different stages of progress? Why,
contrary to all modern usage, hold confined the jury for six long days
and nights with an express and determined resolve not to release when
there appeared to be no prospect of an agreement on a verdict? Why so
many cunning inlets to and tampering with parts of the jury? Why, when
it was worn out by fatigue and loss of rest, was the last stratagem
resorted to for delusion to the effect that it was hardly worth while
holding out when the penalty, if any at all, would be nothing more
than a slight fine? Why the low, the despicable, and the underground
agencies set at work to poison the mind of a then intended wife,
and to sever the agreement of marriage which had been made in good
faith on both sides? If G. Y. Overall had meant nothing more than the
establishing of his own innocence as regards the confessions made,
and which he unwarrantedly applied to himself, why so many mysterious
forces at work and so much of corruption put in play? By endeavoring to
establish too much, reaction often follows which sometimes satisfies
that too little has been effected to produce any benefit to the
complainer.

Public disapproval of the verdict, universal sympathy which followed
the author everywhere, even within the confines of his prison—a
stranger in Mobile, yet on every hand met with kind treatment both in
this city and elsewhere from afar, all giving testimony against this
uncalled for and malignant prosecution. Mr. Overall and company’s
victory was dearly bought, and left them in a far worse condition than
before they commenced.

For proving too much, a miserable subterfuge was tried to make
appear that Copeland was deranged, was a maniac, and his statements
entirely unworthy of credit. A more signal failure could not have been
attempted. If he was non compos mentis, the law grievously erred in
causing his execution. Those who knew him well, those who visited him
long and often in his prison, can testify to his extraordinary strength
of mind. Brave and undaunted, affable in deportment, a tenacious
memory, with all other indications of mental vigor, the chances are
very small of making impressions touching his insanity. And all this
in the face of those localities which suffered so much from the
depredations of the clan, which localities can vouch for the truth of
his confessions. But the jury of inquest, on an artful plea raised at
the time of his trial settles this question. A man with certain death
before his eyes, with not even the remotest hope of any possibility of
escape, is not governed as other men are under ordinary circumstances
of business and duplicity. If, to the double-dealers and the reserved,
his conduct appears strange in the exposure of his associates, how
much more so in the reflections on his own mother? The testimony of a
dying man, given freely and without any deceptive or compulsory force,
is generally considered reliable. The circumstances under which he
made his confessions, having in view his fast approaching end to all
earthly scenes, the internal evidences of truth which they bear, the
numerous localities which can confirm the facts as in them contained,
all tend to produce convictions as to the substantial accuracy of his
narrations. In his last moments before the fatal drop launched him into
an endless eternity, in reference, read the following certificate,
correctly transcribed, as given by an eye witness in reply to an
application from the author:

MOBILE, ALA., July 31st. 1873.

This is to certify that I was present at the execution of James
Copeland, who was executed at Augusta, Perry county, Miss., the 30th
day of October, 1857; and heard the Sheriff, J. R. S. Pitts, ask him,
the said James Copeland, if the detailed history and list of names
given as members of the Wages and Copeland clan were correct, and he
answered the Sheriff in the affirmative that they were.

T. C. CARTER.
Office 58, North Commerce st., Mobile, Ala.

Other equally reliable certificates could be given to the same effect,
but the one here transcribed will suffice. The person whose signature
is above given, is respectfully known pretty much throughout the City
of Mobile, as well as over the greater part of Mississippi, and whose
veracity none will attempt to dispute.

Let it be borne in mind that the existence of this clan continued
for a great number of years, its fields of operations extended from
State to State—from shore to shore. Here murder and prodigious rapine;
there burning wrecks, with hurried flights from place to place to
avoid capture and the pursuits of retributive vengeance—frequently
succeeding, but now and then failing for short periods of time until
the reserves in men, in money, and in officials or leagued members
of the bar could be brought to bear for rescue or for jail delivery
by process of law. Amid all these chequered scenes of success and
adversity, it would not be impossible for some unintentional errors
of date to have intervened; yet, intrinsically, such errors may be of
a character as not, to the smallest extent, to affect the validity
or value of the “confessions” made; but still, errors of this sort,
may furnish fine capital for indirect sore-headed associates to rave
and foam. As a simple illustration on this point, one man saw another
commit a crime on the 15th, but, on investigation, it turned out to
have been done on the 16th. Now, had he stated “on or _about_ the
15th,” all would have been complete; but will any one contend because
of the omission of this “_or about_,” the whole value of the statement
is destroyed?

Again, typographical errors will occur in almost all printed
productions, to a greater or less extent. Such errors are sometimes
insignificant and sometimes material. In the original work, as first
published, some few typographical errors have been discovered. For
instance, “Shonesmack” should have been Shoemake or Scheumake; but the
idea of raising a fuming warfare because of such sort of errors as
these, is sublimely ridiculous.

After some hesitation about propriety, the author has decided to
re-publish the same as appeared in the first edition, with such few
appended explanations and corrections as are necessary for distinct
comprehension by the reader.

Filial acknowledgements and a tribute of respect for the father,
but mother, brothers, and associates, Copeland spared none.
Without reserve—without restraint—simple and without any object of
complication, truth fell fast and spontaneously during the short time
he had to live. The philosopher, the statesman, and the moralist—all
may deduce lessons of value to the future from his confessions.
Reflections on his mother show the mighty force and influence which
the female parent exercises on youth and maturity. “The rule is bad
that will not work both ways.” If in this case the mother produced so
much of evil fruit, a contrary or an opposite one must produce contrary
results—hence, the vast importance of mothers both to the present and
rising generations.

The Murrell clan first, then the Wages and Copeland next. Both
organizations came to a tragic end. Astounding as the fact may be,
there are some who prefer a life of blood and plunder and terror, to
peaceful industry and the blessings of orderly society. If the life
and history now under consideration should fall into the hands of
some of this class, let them not indulge in the flattering unction
that but for this or the other error committed, the career of the
clan might have continued indefinitely. Let no such fatal delusions
be cherished for a moment. Under a system of semi-civilization, where
laws are only a mock farce, where amount of money is the measure of
guilt or innocence; where judges on the bench, executive officials,
rings, cliques, lawyers, demagogues, and even a number of the clerical
order—Mr. McGrath as an instance—all operate, not according to the
principles of right in consonance with the benign influences which
tend towards a rule of natural order and justice, but in conformity
with corrupt and sordid motives for political considerations to secure
wealth and power, no matter how foul the means; under such an unhealthy
condition of circumstances, organizations like the Murrell, the Wages
and Copeland, however assiduously and indirectly supported by men
of wealth and distinction, however bold and able the actors, cannot
permanently continue. Such combinations of lawlessness for murder and
plunder, incendiarism and all the other darker crimes which belong to
depraved natures, must terminate in death and dissolution; but it so
generally happens that the less guilty end their career on the scaffold
or in some other way by the hands of an outraged community; while the
higher grades of participant criminals, of larger calibre of brain, are
left to revel on the spoils for which the less fortunate have had to
suffer the pains of an ignominious death.

Organizations of such vast and gigantic magnitude, are incidents of
a rude and transition state of society, where population is sparse,
where means of protection are sadly at fault, and where so many
hardened criminals make their escape through the mock forms of trials
in courts, not of justice, but of ignorance and corruption under the
name of liberty and a scrupulous tenderness in behalf of a spurious or
false sentimental color of humanity; but in proportion as population
increases, so also must detection and protection, with a better
administration of law and justice increase in the same ratio, even if
the forms of government have to be changed for the accomplishment of
the same. Wealth cannot accumulate long without chaos and anarchy,
unless protection of life and property be commensurate.

But often the closing era of such terrible organizations for bold and
daring depredations on the better portions of society, then begin other
organizations of less dimensions, but more dangerous, because more
subtle and refined, and in every way harder of detection.

There is something terrible, or, at least, alarming in conception
awakened by the names of _clans_ and _bands_; but different as regards
_rings_ and _cliques_. These last control legislation the executives
and cabinets, and nearly the whole of the judicial rings. They are
the arbiters of aspirants of every description—generally according to
the price or consideration offered. But there is yet another lower
grade of rings and cliques, composed of subordinate officers, picayune
members of the bar, and low-down reckless strikers. When money or
other sorts of gain is to be made, these strikers are set to work,
and if they become involved in law difficulties, the cheap lawyers,
with the assistance of the officials, are always at hand to liberate
the offending culprits. Former methods of murder, conflagration and
high-handed robbery have been exchanged for more intricate forms of
conquest and gain.

Whoever ventures an exposure of the fashionable vices of influential
circles—whoever assails the citadels and strongholds of crime
and corruption, must not expect to elude numerous and deep-laid
conspiracies for the sacrifice of life, which, if he escape falling a
victim, he will be more than fortunate. Even so far, the author has
bitterly experienced all this. The marvel is that he is yet alive and
determined to continue in stronger terms than before exhibited—relying
on invincible truth and the better portions of society to bear him up
through the ordeal which he has to encounter. Although he has suffered
much, and has had many “hair-breadth escapes” from the plots and snares
laid for his destruction.

The subsequent part of the Appendix will inform the reader of several
infernal concoctions for assassination when attempts at intimidation
failed. The first of these will embrace particulars in the period
betwixt the publication and the author’s arrest, and the other about
three years after the trial had terminated. The period betwixt
publication and arrest cannot be devoid of interest to the reader—it
is a prelude to the important trial which followed. The incidents
involved during the time here referred to have ponderous bearings, in
a circumstantial point of view, toward establishing the substantial
correctness of Copeland’s confessions, although intended to invalidate
them and make a nullity of the whole.

During imprisonment Copeland seemed to fully comprehend the profound
plans and commanding power of one by the name of Shoemake. This is the
man who played so conspicuous a part before and on trial in combination
with the three prosecuting parties of Mobile. The arch-enemy of all
mankind cannot surpass him in perfidious deception.

“With smooth dissimulation well skilled to grace,
A devil’s purpose with an angel’s face.”

He who it was who first addressed a letter of almost matchless
duplicity to the author, while residing in Perry county, under a
forged or fictitious signature. He who it was who next visited the
author in person, first to try the arts of persuasion, and then the
designing influences of intimidation, but in either case without the
desired effect. After this, he it was who entered into compact with the
prosecuting three, of Mobile, bore the requisition from the Governor
of Alabama to the Governor of Mississippi for the rendition of the
author, and, in the circumstances connected with the arrest, acted in
such a mysterious and suspicious manner as could leave no doubt that
he contemplated the life of the author under a plausible pretext of
resistance to lawful authority. But this object was signally defeated.
A considerable number of good citizens quickly collected together, well
armed for protection, and volunteered to accompany the author under
arrest to Mobile, which they accordingly did, and effectually secured
his safety.

The trial followed next. By careful attention to the circumstances
connected with it much information may be gathered, showing the force
of political considerations, and how hard the task for truth and
justice, in the first efforts, to gain a triumph over a combination of
wealth and intellect leagued together for bad purposes. For instance,
the presiding Judge, McKinstry, could have had no personal prejudice or
enmity against the author, and in his heart might have rejoiced over
the dissolution of the clan, but his palpably reprehensible conduct on
trial furnishes convincing evidence that he was influenced by other
considerations than those of law and justice. To this fact Dr. Bevell,
one of the impaneled jurymen on the case, had his eye turned in the
references to the Judge’s conduct and political considerations, which
references will be found in his letter published in another part of the
work.

On the days of trial the notorious character of this said Shoemake
was made public and manifest. He was the principal witness relied on
in the prosecution. Another, equally infamous, as demonstrated by the
most satisfactory of testimony, by the name of Bentonville Taylor, was
brought from afar in rags and poverty, and sent back in costly attire
with money in profusion. Does the impartial judgment require anything
more to produce conviction of the shameful features of the prosecution?
If so, he will find much more before he gets through the particulars of
the trial. Added to this, the almost universal outburst of sympathy in
behalf of the author, with letters of condolence from distant parts,
all of which will be found in the proper places of the work.

Under circumstances so adverse it is not to be expected that Copeland,
in his confession, could give more than a small fractional part of
the transactions of the whole clan. Since then a number and variety
of interesting matters have been collected from the most authentic of
sources, and will be found in the appropriate place of this pamphlet.

The subject of crime opens an almost inexhaustible expanse for
expatiation. An elaborate treatise on its causes and remedies is too
prolix for a work of this nature—only a few passing observations on
this theme will be found interspersed, which are relevant and have a
direct bearing on the main topics discussed.

And now, in closing this introductory part, the author wishes the
public to understand that he has no personal animosity against those
who so wrongfully deprived him of his liberty, ruined him with
expenses, and encompassed his life in so many intricate ways. He has
not indulged in any revengeful passions, but has endeavored to strictly
confine himself to the unprejudiced and impartial province of the
historian and biographer—according merit where due, and with propriety
denouncing crimes, corruptions and unhealthy conspiracies whenever they
come in the way. And, if in so doing, he is to endure a repetition of
persecutions and prosecutions, with fresh dangers added, he will try to
bear them with all the fortitude he can command, with the hope that the
peaceably and honestly disposed parts of the community will rally for
the pulling down the edifices of vice, and for establishing a better, a
purer and a healthier condition of society.

PREFACE.

The number of years during which the Copeland and Wages Gang of Land
Pirates pursued a successful career of robbery, incendiarism and murder
in the United States; their final dismemberment, disgrace and violent
end at the hand of retributive justice; and the stern moral lesson
taught by their history and fate, have induced the undersigned to
publish the confession of one of the leaders of the gang, as made by
himself, in anticipation of his death at the hands of the hangman. Its
accuracy may be relied on; and indeed it is hardly possible to doubt
the truth of its statements, so minutely, consecutively and clearly are
they related, and so consonant are they with the various localities and
the characters of the men.

This confession was given to me, principally by the aid of copious
memoranda which Copeland had kept for years in his diary, and which
materially refreshed his memory.

James Copeland, the subject of this memoir, was born near Pascagoula
river, in Jackson county, Miss., on the 18th day of January, 1823. He
was the son of Isham Copeland and Rebecca Copeland, his wife—formerly
Rebecca Wells. The parents had resided for many years near Pascagoula
river.

Isham Copeland was a farmer in easy circumstances, with a good farm,
several negroes, plenty of horses and mules and other live stock; and,
in fact, he might be said to have everything about him that a family in
moderate circumstances could require to enable him to live comfortably.
He was the father of several sons; but, alas! this, which is by most
men deemed a blessing, proved to him a curse; and after encountering
many trials in youth and manhood, just when he thought to enjoy the
peace and repose of old age, his son’s misconduct drew on him many
severe reverses of fortune, and finally drove him to the grave broken
hearted.

J. R. S. PITTS.

LIFE AND CAREER

JAMES COPELAND,

THE SOUTHERN LAND PIRATE, AND HIS INTIMATE ASSOCIATES,

AS RELATED IN DETAIL, BY HIMSELF, IN PRISON, A FEW DAYS BEFORE HIS
EXECUTION, TO DR. J. R. S. PITTS, THEN SHERIFF OF PERRY COUNTY, MISS.

When I was about ten or eleven years of age, my father sent me to
school, and I went at intervals from time to time, to several good
teachers. I might, with proper training and management, have received
a liberal education. My father often insisted, and urged it upon me
to study and try to obtain a good education, and he told me that he
would send me to school as long as I wished to go. But being misled by
my associations with bad company, I was engaged, instead, in studying
mischief, and other things no way profitable to myself or advantageous
to youths. It was my misfortune, that my disposition led me on to
study how to cheat, defraud and swindle my comrades and school-mates,
out of their pocket-knives, their money or anything they might have,
which I wanted, and I was generally successful in my undertaking. If I
could not effect my object in one way, I would resort to some other,
and finally obtain it before I stopped. Indulging in this rude and
mischievous disposition, I naturally became more hardened, and when
at school, it was my delight to see the scholars whipped or otherwise
punished, and I would often tell lies on any of them that would
displease me, so as to cause them to get a flogging; and very often
I would tell a lie on an innocent scholar, so as to clear a favorite
and guilty one, and have the innocent one punished. It most generally
happened, that I managed my villainy so as to get clear; it sometimes
happened, however, that I got punished. This I did not care for any
longer than the punishment lasted. So soon as I was released, I would
commit a worse misdeed than the one I was chastised for, and any of my
school-mates that were the cause of my punishment, I was certain to
wreak my vengeance on, by having them punished in some way. From my
bad conduct in school there was no teacher that would permit me to go
to his school long at a time, and whenever I had any difficulty with
my teachers, my mother would always protect and indulge me in what
I would do; and being so indulged and protected, this excited me to
commit crimes of greater magnitude. And I am frank, here to say, that
my mother has been the principal and great cause of all my crimes and
misfortunes, by stimulating me to the commission of those deeds that
have brought me to what I am.

When I was about the age of twelve years, my mother one day sent me
with a sack to a neighbor’s house (Mr. Helverson’s), to procure some
vegetables or greens. I communicated my errand to Mrs. H., who told me
to go to the garden and take what I wanted. I had no knife with me. I
asked Mrs. H. to loan me a knife, which I knew she had, and she pulled
out a very pretty little knife from her work-pocket, and told me not to
lose or break it, for it was a present made to her by a friend. This I
listened to and promised her that I would be careful. Now, while I was
in the garden procuring vegetables or greens, my whole mind and wits
were employed in devising some mode by which I could cheat the lady out
of her knife. Finally, after I had procured my vegetables and placed
them in the sack, I put the knife in the bottom of the sack; I then
returned to the house, and told the lady that I laid the knife down in
the garden, and had forgot the place and could not find it; I asked her
to go with me and help me hunt for it, which she accordingly did, and
we both hunted diligently, but to no effect. The lady was very anxious
about her knife and much regretted its loss, while I was all the time
laughing in my sleeve, to know how completely I had swindled her. This
trick of mine passed off very well for a time. It was, however, found
out that I had the knife, and that created some noise and trouble. I
was accused of stealing the knife. But I denied all accusations and
stated that I had bought the knife I had, in Mobile, and proved it by
my mother, who always upheld me in my rascality. This may be said to
have been my first successful feat in stealing, although I was in the
habit of stealing little frivolous things from the school boys, before
that time.

My father living a very close neighbor to Mr. Helverson, whose family
is related to ours, their stock run together in the same range. My next
onset in stealing was from Mr. H. again; he had a lot of very fine fat
pigs, and these were at that time selling at a high price in Mobile.
My brother Isham (nicknamed Whinn) and myself geared up a horse in a
cart and started, pretendingly for a camp hunt to kill deer and haul
to Mobile. We went a short distance that night and camped. During the
night we went to Helverson’s hog bed, and stole a cart load of his
finest pigs, fifteen in number, hauled them to Mobile and sold them at
two dollars each. Although Mr. H. was satisfied in his own mind that we
had stolen his pigs, yet he could not prove it; and I escaped again.
So I was stimulated with my success, and being still more encouraged
and upheld by my mother, and not exceeding fourteen years of age, I
believed that I could make an independent fortune by thieving, and
became insensible of the danger which awaited me. A short time after
the incident just related had transpired, I made a second rake upon Mr.
H.’s pigs. But in my second adventure, I was not so fortunate as I
was in the first, for Mr. H. _rather got me_ that time. The proof was
sufficiently strong, and I was prosecuted, for the first time, for pig
stealing. Well knowing my guilt as I did, and the evidence against me,
I thought my case extremely doubtful. I was arrested by the sheriff of
Jackson county, and had to give bond to appear at the Circuit Court
of Jackson county, to answer an indictment preferred against me by
the State of Mississippi, for the crime of larceny. The bond required
me to attend the Court from term to term, and from day to day, until
discharged by due course of law. My poor old father employed the best
counsel to defend me, that could be obtained in all the country. This
cost the poor old man a large sum of money. My counsel, after learning
the facts of the case, advised me that my only chance of acquittal,
was to put off the trial as long as possible. This he did from term to
term, in hopes that something might occur to get me acquitted. I well
knew if my case should be brought to a hearing, I would be convicted,
and I dreaded the consequences; for I knew that there would then be no
chance on earth to prevent my being sent to the penitentiary.

Fully sensible of my situation, young as I was at that time, it
became necessary for me to devise some plan to get out of the scrape,
and I reflected for weeks how to manage this matter. One day, in a
conversation with my mother and some other confidential friends, she
and they advised me to consult GALE H. WAGES; and my mother said she
would send for Wages and see him herself, as he was a particular friend
of hers. This she accordingly did, and he came to our house. There were
several of the clan at our house then, though I did not know them at
that time as such; but my mother did, as I afterward found out when I
joined them. Among the many plans proposed by the clan, none seemed
to suit my mother or Wages. Some were for waylaying and killing the
witnesses; some for one thing, and some for another. Finally Wages
made his proposition, which was seconded by my mother. This was the
proposition I had been waiting to hear, for my mother told me that
whatever plan Wages would pursue, he would be certain to get me clear.
His plan was, that we should, in some way or other, endeavor to have
the Court house and all the records destroyed, and so destroy the
indictment against me. By that means there would be nothing against me,
and I should be acquitted, as no charge would rest against me.

With this plan I was highly pleased, and much elated with the idea
that I had a friend fully able and competent to bear me out, and who
would stand up to me at any and all hazards, and bring me out clear.
Wages pledged himself to me in private to do this, and he was as good
as his word. We set a time for the accomplishment of our design, and
we accordingly met. The precise date I cannot recollect, but it was a
dry time, and a dark night, with a strong breeze from the North. After
procuring sufficient dry combustibles, we entered the Court-house,
went up stairs, and placed our combustibles in the roof, on the
windward side of the house. Wages went down stairs to patrol around.
After reconnoitering around sufficiently, he gave me the signal, by
a rap or knock on the wall; I immediately sprung open the door of my
dark-lantern, applied the match, and made my escape down stairs, and
Wages and myself left the place in double quick time. We halted on an
eminence some five or six hundred yards to the southeast of the Court
house, to watch the conflagration. Such a sight I never had before
beheld. The flames seemed to ascend as high, if not higher than the
tops of the tallest pine trees; they made everything perfectly light
for over two hundred yards around. After the Court-house, records
and all were completely consumed, and the flames had abated and died
away, we took our departure for home, rejoicing at our success in
the accomplishment of our design. There was a great deal of talk and
conjecture about the burning of the Court-house, and we were accused—at
least, I was strongly censured, but there never was any discovery made,
nor any proof sufficient to get hold of either Wages or myself; so I
again got clear of a crime of which I was guilty and for which I ought
to have been punished.

The assistance, advice and protection I had received from Wages, gave
me the utmost confidence in him, and he had unbounded influence over
me; I looked on him as my warmest and most confidential friend, and
I eventually pinned my whole faith on him and relied upon him for
advice and directions in everything. Although a villain, as I must
now acknowledge Wages was, yet he had some redeeming traits in his
character. At his own home he was friendly, kind and hospitable;
in company, he was affable and polite; and no person at first
acquaintance, would have believed for one moment, that he was the _out
lawed brigand_ that he finally proved himself to be; and I firmly
believe he would have spilt the last drop of blood in his veins to
protect me; yet I must say that he was the principal author of my
misfortunes, and has brought me where I am.

After the burning of the Court House, the intercourse between Wages and
myself became more frequent. We became strongly allied to each other,
and confidence was fully established between us. Wages one day made
a proposition to me; to join him, and go with him, alleging that we
could make money without work, and live in ease and genteel style; that
there were a great many persons concerned with him, in different parts
of the country, some of them men of wealth and in good standing in the
community in which they lived; that they had an organized _Band_ that
would stand up to each other at all hazard; that they had a _Wigwam_ in
the city of Mobile, where they held occasional meetings; and that they
had many confederates there whom the public little suspected. To this
proposition I readily acceded; it corresponded with my disposition and
idea of things, and then, being the age I was, and stimulated by my
past success, I feared nothing.

I went to Mobile with Wages, and there he introduced me to some of
his comrades, who were members of his Clan. They accordingly held a
meeting at their _Wig-wam_, and I was there introduced by Wages, (who
was their president,) as a candidate for membership, I should have been
rejected, had Wages not interceded for me. I was finally passed and
admitted to membership. Wages then administered to me the oath, which
every member had to take. I was then instructed and given the signs and
pass-words of the Clan; and above all was cautioned to keep a watchful
eye, and not to let any person entrap me; nor let any person, under
pretence of belonging to the Clan, or wishing to join, obtain in any
way information from me in relation to the existence of the Clan, or
their plan or mode of operation. The oath was administered on the Holy
Bible. (Oh! what a profanation of that good book!) The form of the oath
was: “You solemnly swear upon the Holy Evangelist of Almighty God, that
you will never divulge, and always conceal and never reveal any of the
signs or pass-words of our order; that you will not invent any sign,
token or device by which the secret mysteries of our order may be made
known; that you will not in any way betray or cause to be betrayed any
member of this order—the whole under pain of having your head severed
from your body—so help you God.”

Wages was President and Chief of the Clan. All important business
of the Clan was entrusted to his care. He called meetings, gave all
notices to the Clan for their gatherings, and when assembled he
presided in the chair. In all matters, he had the preferred right to
introduce resolutions for the benefit of the Clan.

There were present at this meeting, Charles McGrath, Vice-President;
McClain, Secretary; John Eelva, Henry Sanford, Richard Cabel and
Sampson Teapark, Vigilant Committee; William Brown, of Mobile, Tyler.

After I was thus initiated, and invested with all the signs, words and
tokens, and fully instructed in the mysteries of the Clan, I was taught
their mode of secret correspondence, by means of an alphabet or key,
invented by the notorious Murrell, of Tennessee. I was furnished with
the alphabet and key, and in that same mystic writing I was furnished
with a list of all the names that belonged to our Clan, and a list
of several other Clans, that ours was in correspondence with, their
several places of residence, and the locations of their Wig-wams; so
that when we stole a horse, a mule, or a negro, we knew precisely where
to carry them, to have them concealed and sold.

After I had been thus fully initiated and had become identified with
the Clan, Wages and McGrath, knowing my ability, and that I was a keen
shrewd and cunning lad, took me under their immediate special charge.
We had a rendezvous at old Wages’ about twelve miles from Mobile, and
another at Dog River, about the same distance in a different direction.
We ranged that season from one place to the other, and sometimes in
town, stealing any and everything we could. Sometimes killing beef,
hogs and sheep, hauling them to town and selling them; sometimes
stealing a fine horse or mule and conveying it to some of our comrades
to conceal; and occasionally a negro would disappear. All this while,
we pretended to be engaged in making shingles, burning charcoal, and
getting laths and pickets, each for himself. We always managed to
furnish the family with all the meat they could use.

We worked on in this way until late in the summer or early in the fall
of 1839, when most of the inhabitants had left the city; and we having
six of our Clan then employed as City Guards, we rallied our forces
and Wages ordered a meeting. It was there resolved that we should
prepare ourselves with boats and teams—the boats to be stationed at
a particular wharf in Mobile, on a certain night, and the teams at a
landing named, on Dog River the next night. It was also ordered that we
should assemble at our Wig-wam on the first night at seven o’clock. The
meeting then adjourned.

The promised evening came, and every member was punctual in his
attendance. It was a full meeting of the Clan. We all rigged ourselves
out with false moustaches, some with false whiskers, some with a green
patch over one eye, and many of them dressed like sailors, and thus
fitted out and disguised, we were ready for action, with all kinds of
false keys, skeleton keys, lock picks, crow bars, &c. At nine o’clock
the City Guards turned out, and by a previous arrangement, those of our
comrades who mounted guard, were on the first watch. They immediately
sent two of their number to inform us where to make the first break.
They had reconnoitered previously and knew what places had the richest
and most valuable goods, and they had also procured false keys for
several stores. Thus armed, each man with his revolver, bowie knife and
dark lantern, about ten o’clock we started out. Our first break was a
fancy dry-goods store which we opened with one of our keys. We took
over $5,000 worth of goods from that store, fine silks, muslins, &c. We
next entered a rich jewelry store, and made a clean sweep there. There
were no fine watches; we got some silver watches and two or three gold
watches, left, we supposed, to be repaired. Our raise there was about
four to five thousand dollars. Our next break was on a large clothing
store. There we took $3000 worth of the finest and best clothing. While
we were at this, some of the clan were packing off and storing in their
boats. We had procured two butcher carts, which would stand a short
distance off and our men packed and loaded the carts, which they hauled
to our boats. About half-past eleven o’clock, knowing that there would
be a new guard out at twelve o’clock, we dispersed and set fire to each
of the stores we had robbed. Soon there was the cry of fire; the wind
commenced blowing, and the fire spread rapidly. Our Clan now commenced
operations anew; we seized and carried out goods from any and every
store we came to, still retaining the carts. We kept them constantly
employed; and before daylight we had loaded two large, swift boats, and
had a large quantity of merchandise in a “wood flat.” A little before
daylight, we left with our boats for Dog River. We arrived there about
eight o’clock, ten miles from the city, and went up the river to our
landing place, where we secreted our goods until that night, when we
had our teams at work, hauling off and concealing goods, which we
finally accomplished the second night. Wages then ordered a meeting
of the clan, and punctual attendance was required. The object of this
meeting was for a report from each member of the amount of goods he had
obtained, so that an equal distribution might be made. From the report
then made, we had procured over twenty-five thousand dollars worth
of goods of almost every description. We had an abundant supply of
groceries and liquors. Our friends in the city had a bountiful supply
of almost everything. We made a division of our plunder, and Wages,
McGrath and myself got for our share about six thousand dollars worth.
We were permitted to select the finest and most costly goods, such as
the jewelry, fine silks, muslins etc., which we could carry in our
trunks.

Having properly stowed away our effects, we took a trip from Mobile
to Florida by way of Pensacola, carrying with us some of the jewelry,
watches and dry goods. We traveled from Pensacola through Florida, with
our pack of goods, as pedlars, each taking a different route, and all
to meet at Apalachicola on a certain day. Wages went the middle route,
McGrath the southern route, and I went the northern route. I traveled
some distance, occasionally selling some of my plunder. I eventually
arrived at a very rich neighborhood, near the Chatochooca river, not
far from the Alabama line. There I soon disposed of most of my goods.

I fell in with a house where a very rich old widow lady lived. She
bought a good deal of my jewelry and other goods for her two young
daughters. I pretended to be sick, for an excuse to stay there. This
lady had a very nice mulatto girl about seventeen years old. During
the time I was there pretending to be sick, I made an arrangement with
this girl to run away with me; I promised to take her for a wife, and
carry her to a free State. She was to meet me on a certain night at
the landing on the river, about one mile from that place. I left the
house pretending to go to Columbus, Ga., and traveled up the river some
thirty miles, where I stole a canoe. I procured some meat and bread and
started down the river. On the night appointed I was at the landing,
and about ten o’clock the mulatto girl came. She had provided bed
clothing and provisions in plenty. I then started down the river with
my girl. We went about thirty miles that night, and lay by in the river
swamp all next day. The next night we made about fifty miles down the
river. The third night we reached Apalachicola, two days previous to
the time appointed to meet Wages and McGrath. I landed a short distance
above town, and left my girl in a swamp just after daylight, and then
went to the city. In looking around I fell in with John Harden, he
being one of our clan. He soon gave me an introduction to a place
where I could conceal my girl, and stay myself. The next day McGrath
arrived; I met him in the street, and gave him a sign to follow me to
our rendezvous. I showed him my girl and told him the way I had got
her; he then told me that he had stolen a likely negro fellow, and had
him concealed in a swamp about four miles from town. After dinner, and
a little before night, McGrath and I went out to the swamp, brought in
his fellow, and concealed him at the same place where my girl was.

The next day about eight o’clock Wages came up; we were all on the
lookout for him. We gave him a hint to come to our place. We showed
Wages what a raise we had made; he then told us that he had stolen
two negroes and two fine horses, and that they were concealed in the
swamp about five miles from town. In fear of pursuit he said we must
leave instanter. We made an arrangement with Harden and our landlord
to take the horses. They gave Wages twenty-five dollars a piece for
the horses, and our board bill. That night Wages and Harden went
out to the swamp; Harden took the horses and left, and Wages brought
in his negroes and placed them with ours. That night while Wages was
gone after his negroes McGrath and I went to a coffee house, and while
there we met some Spaniards that had a little schooner there, and which
was then loaded for New Orleans. We made the arrangement with them to
carry us and our negroes to New Orleans, returned to our place, and had
everything prepared. About ten o’clock Wages came in with his negroes,
and we all went on board the vessel, which weighed anchor and sailed
down the bar. Next morning the captain cleared his vessel, and by ten
o’clock we were over the bar and under way, with a good breeze. On
the second night, a little before day, we landed at the Pontchartrain
railroad, and left in the first cars for the city. We went into one of
our places in the city, got breakfast for ourselves and negroes, and at
nine o’clock we left in a steamboat for Bayou Sara. We landed there,
crossed the river and went to one of our clan—a rich planter—where
we sold our negroes. I got one thousand dollars for my mulatto girl;
McGrath sold his fellow for eleven hundred dollars, and Wages sold each
of his boys for nine hundred dollars. We took our money and left for
Mobile. My girl made considerable fuss when I was about to leave, but
I told her I would return in a month, and rather pacified her. I must
here acknowledge that my conscience did that time feel mortified, after
the girl had come with me, and I had lived with her as a wife, and she
had such implicit confidence in me. My conscience still feels mortified
when I reflect how much better it would have been for me to have kept
her and lived with her than to come to what I have.

On our way to Mobile we stopped in New Orleans three or four days.
During our stay there was one fire. We made a small raise on that of
about one hundred dollars each. McGrath came very near being caught by
attempting to make a second haul. We left next day for Mobile; landed
at Pascagoula, and walked home by land, with our money and the small
amount of goods we had stolen in New Orleans.

We then deposited our money, and gathered all the balance of our fine
goods that we had stolen in Mobile at the great fire, and what we had
stolen in New Orleans, and prepared ourselves for a second tour. We had
realized about four thousand five hundred dollars, which we hid in the
ground, and we took each of us about one hundred and fifty dollars for
our expenses, and an equal share of the goods.

On the 25th day of March, 1843, Wages, McGrath and myself left Mobile
bound to Texas; we went to New Orleans, where we landed the next day.
We remained there about three days and sold a great quantity of our
goods, such as were too heavy to carry. While we were in the city
Wages won about seven hundred dollars from a Tennessee corn dealer by
the name of Murphy. McGrath and myself had lost about one hundred and
fifty dollars each. We left New Orleans, went up the Mississippi, and
landed at the house of an old friend that belonged to our clan. His
name was Welter. We spent one day and night with him; we had seen him
in the city a few days before, and were invited to call, but when we
approached his residence we all pretended to be entire strangers. This
was a strict injunction upon our clan—when traveling never to meet
any of our comrades as acquaintances, but always treat them as entire
strangers, that we had never seen in our life.

Wages pretended to have some business with the old gentleman, and
introduced himself, McGrath and myself under fictitious names. The
old gentleman had two very nice genteel daughters. They were sociable
and refined, well educated, and highly accomplished every way; he was
wealthy, and had a good reputation in his neighborhood, and no one
would for one moment have suspected him of belonging to our clan. But
I afterward learned from Wages that this old gentleman had belonged to
the Murrell Clan for many years; and that was what carried Wages there,
to get some information relative to some negroes that had been stolen
and carried to Louisiana near the Texas line. Wages also informed me
that this same man made all his property by stealing and kidnapping
negroes from Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois.
Having obtained the information we wanted, we made preparation to
leave. We offered to pay our fare, but this was promptly refused. We
were well entertained; the old gentleman furnished us each with a flask
of good brandy, and, after thanking him and his family for their kind,
hospitable treatment, we bid adieu, and took our departure for Texas.

We got on a steamboat and went up the Mississippi to the mouth of Red
river, and up that river to a landing called the New Springs. There
we paid our passage and went on shore, each with his pack and his
double-barrel gun. We stopped at a house about one mile from the river,
where we called for our dinner, which we got, and we all remained there
until next day, during which time we sold a considerable amount of our
goods at that house and in the neighborhood, which made our packs much
lighter. We left next day, stopping at all houses, and selling our
goods, which we did at a rapid rate, as we had stolen them and were
not sufficient judges of their value to know what price to ask, and in
consequence we often sold them at one-half their value, and so soon got
rid of them.

Having disposed of the principal part of our goods, about the fourth
day after we left the New Spring landing, we were approaching the
prairie county on the Texas border. We provided ourselves with bread
and salt; we had ammunition. Shortly before night, we came to a small
piece of woodland, by a ravine. There was a large drove of cattle
of all sizes there; McGrath shot a very fat two-year old heifer; we
skinned the hind quarters and tenderloin; we built up a fire, salted
some of our meat and roasted it by the fire and feasted sumptuously.
The wolves came near our camp and made a dreadful noise, but at
daybreak we shot and killed three and the balance ran off. They had
devoured all the heifer’s meat, but we had provided sufficient for
our journey that day. We set out and traveled in a direction to find a
settlement, then made about twenty-five miles south of Shreveport. That
was the place where Welter had told Wages that the negroes were, that
we were after. We traveled about thirty miles that day, and suffered
very much for water. We reached a settlement a little before night, on
some of the waters of the Sabine River. It was the residence of some
stock keepers; there were some three or four families, and some fifteen
or twenty Mexican drovers, and horse thieves; they had just been to
Natchitoches, and had a full supply of rum; a few of them could speak
English. We quartered with them, and that night we opened the little
remnant of our goods and jewelry, and had a general raffle. By the next
day we had realized from our raffle, sufficient to purchase each of us
a good Spanish saddle and bridle, and a good Texas horse. We learned
from one of these Mexicans the residence of the man who owned the
negroes that we were after, and we also learned that he and his family
were strict members of the Methodist Church. Now it was that one of us
had to turn preacher, so as to reconnoiter around the place. Wages and
I put that on McGrath. We all mounted our horses and started, having
procured plenty of lassoes, &c., McGrath being an Irishman and his
tongue tipped with plenty of blarney.

We traveled for two days very moderately, and, our chief employment was
drilling McGrath, how to pray and sing, and give that long Methodist
groan, and “Amen.” He having made considerable progress, we went to
Natchitoches. McGrath entered that town by one road, and Wages and
myself by another. McGrath went among a few of his brethren that
evening.

To our astonishment it was posted at every corner, that the “Rev. Mr.
McGrath, from Charleston, South Carolina, would preach at the Methodist
Church that evening, at half-past seven.” We attended church. McGrath
took his stand in the pulpit. He made a very genteel apology to his
audience, saying he was much fatigued from his travel; that he had
caught cold and was very hoarse and could not sing; but he read out the
hymn. It was: “Hark from the tombs a doleful sound.” One old brother
pitched the tune to Old Hundred, and they all chimed in, Wages and
myself among the rest; Wages sang bass and I tenor, and we all made
that old church sound like distant thunder. After singing, McGrath
made a very good but short prayer; he then took his text in the 16th
chapter of St. Mark, at the verse where Mary the mother, and Mary
Magdalene found the stone rolled from the door of the sepulchre. “And
he said unto them, Be not affrighted; ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, who
was crucified; he has risen; he is not here; behold the place where
they laid him.” He read several verses in that chapter, and then made
some very good explanations relative to the parables, and prophesies
on the coming of the Messiah, and the mysterious way in which he
disappeared, and wound up his discourse by telling the audience that he
had been a great sinner in his young days, that it had been but a few
years since the Lord had called him to preach, and he thanked his God
that he was now able and willing to lay down his life upon the altar
of God; he then raved, and exhorted all to repent and turn to God; and
after raving about half an hour called all his hearers that wished to
be prayed for to come forward. The whole congregation kneeled down;
he prayed for them all, and finally finished, sang another hymn and
dismissed his congregation, and we all retired, Wages and myself to
a gaming table, and McGrath with some of his brethren. Next day the
members of the church there waited on McGrath to know what was his
pecuniary situation. He told them that he was very poor, was on his way
to see a rich relation of his, about two hundred miles from there; that
he carried his gun to keep off wild beasts, etc. They made up money to
buy him a fine suit of black, a new saddle and saddle-bags and fifty
dollars in cash. We remained there two days, when McGrath left. Wages
and I left by another road. We all met a short distance from town
and made the proper arrangement for our operations. McGrath was to go
on to the house of this man that had the negroes, and there make what
discoveries were necessary. He was to join Wages and myself at San
Antonio on the first day of September following. Wages and I left in
the direction for the Red Land on the Irish bayou.

POISONING THE OVERSEER.

A few days after we passed the residence of an old bachelor who had a
large number of negroes; he was absent at Natchitoches and had left
his overseer in charge. We stopped there, and remained two days;
we procured some whisky from a grocery store a short distance off;
prepared some of it with _poison_, and induced the overseer to drink
freely. We gave him a full dose of the poison, and before day on the
third morning he was dead.

Meanwhile Wages and I had made arrangements to steal a likely negro
woman and two young negroes, a boy and girl, about ten years of age,
besides two of the finest horses on the place. We sent out runners to
let one or two of the neighbors know that the overseer was dead; we
had our negroes and horses concealed about five miles distant, and
about sunrise we offered to pay our bills and left, pretending to go
to New Orleans. After we had got out of sight of the plantation we
made a circuit and went to the place where the negroes and horses were
concealed. Having provided ourselves with provisions, we remained
secreted at that place all that day. That night we started with our
negroes and horses. Wages took the lead; our horses and negroes were
all refreshed. We traveled a brisk gait all that night and till next
day at nine or ten o’clock. We suffered greatly for water, having met
with none after midnight, until we stopped at a small creek. We had
passed no houses after daylight. After we stopped we stripped our
horses, gave them water and hampered them to graze; we got water for
ourselves and negroes, and took a little spirits we had, and eat the
balance of our provisions. After we had rested a little while, Wages
took his gun and went up the creek in search of game; I took mine and
went to the road we had just left, and went on rather down the creek.
At the distance of about two miles I came to a plantation. It was an
old stock place, inhabited by some of the old creole settlers that had
lived there in Spanish times. I inquired the distances and courses of
the country. They told me it was about forty miles to the first river,
and that there was but one settlement on the road where we could get
water for ourselves and horses, at about twenty-five miles. After I
had got this information I purchased some bread and potatoes and a
small piece of dried beef, and returned to our camp. Wages had killed
a fine deer, and he and the negro woman were roasting a fine piece. We
fared well that day. That night about dark we left our camp, provided
with provisions for two days. A little after midnight we reached the
first water. A little before daylight we reached some settlements and
woodland; we traveled a short distance and came to a small, deep river.
We there found a ferry flat and some small boats. We took the flat and
carried our horses and negroes over; took the flat back, and took a
small boat, and Wages and I crossed to our horses and negroes. By this
time we could discern the appearance of day. We mounted and traveled
on; we could perceive we were passing several large plantations; by
sunrise we had traveled four or five miles. We could see at a distance
several clusters of woodland in the prairies. We made for one of
them some distance from the road, which we found afforded sufficient
shelter for that day. We found some water, but not plenty, and very
bad; our horses would drink but little of it. We stripped and hampered
our horses to graze, took our breakfast and told the negroes to go to
sleep. I went to sleep, and Wages kept watch. About twelve o’clock I
was awakened by the report of a gun. I rose up and found that Wages
had shot a fat yearling beef. We skinned and saved the hind quarters
and loin, and salted it a little and barbecued it. While Wages lay
down and took a nap the negro woman and I attended to the meat. About
an hour before sunset Wages awoke, and we all eat heartily. We eat
the last of our bread and potatoes; our horses had finished grazing
and were resting, and about sunset we began to pack up for traveling,
with plenty of meat and no bread. About dark we left our sheltered
woods and started on the road again. We were then about one hundred
and twenty miles from the place where we had stolen the negroes. We
traveled on that night about thirty miles, and reached a large creek
between midnight and day. We passed one or two plantations, and very
little woodland. When Wages came to the creek he examined the ford and
found horse tracks; he rode in first, went over and came back, and
took the bridle of the horse that had the two little negroes and led
him safely across, and the negro woman and myself followed. We went on
some seven or eight miles, and came to woodland and plantations again.
Some of the plantations were very large. We continued traveling till
daylight; after day we passed several fine, large plantations. The sun
was about one hour high when we came to a ferry on a large river. We
called, and the ferryman was a negro; we inquired the distance from the
last river we had crossed; he said sixty-three miles. The negro was a
very intelligent fellow; we inquired particularly for San Antonio, and
told him there was where we were going. We inquired for several other
places, and left; at a short distance we found a place where we could
rest, not far from a plantation. There Wages and myself procured some
corn for our horses, the first they had eaten for several days. We also
procured some bread; after we had fed and rested our horses and slept
some ourselves, a little before night we started again. We traveled
that night about thirty-five miles, and stopped at a small creek and
camped till daylight. We then started, crossed the creek, went out a
short distance and turned our course more to the east. We took a trail
that led us down the creek. We halted about noon to rest our horses,
which by this time were much fatigued. Here we procured something for
ourselves to eat.

We were now over two hundred miles from the place where we had stolen
the negroes; we here enquired for several places and where was the best
place to locate. We wanted to find a rich neighborhood where there was
good society, etc. We got directions for several places, among the rest
the lower settlement on the Brasos river. After we had rested, late in
the afternoon, we set out, pretending to be bound for San Antonio, but
we steered our course for the Brasos river, where we arrived the second
day after. We quartered our negroes with a planter there and traveled
around. We at length found a purchaser, some twenty miles from the
place where the negroes were. We delivered them to him and received the
pay for them—sixteen hundred dollars. We took the horses about forty
miles and sold one, and about thirty miles further we sold the other.
We then went some distance and sold our own horses.

We had realized from all our sales a little short of two thousand
dollars. This was about the tenth of May. The money was principally
in New Orleans Bank bills, and we had some gold and silver to pay our
little expenses. We now steered our course for San Antonio, on foot,
and reached there in about five days. We traveled leisurely, and
procured some two-headed Texas gourds to carry our water through the
prairies. After resting a day or two, we looked around to see how the
land lay. We went into a store and bought two light Spanish saddles,
with bridles and all the apparatus for riding. We put them up in a
genteel package, and provided ourselves with provisions for two days.
Each shouldered his pack, and we left San Antonio in the night, and
steered our course west. We had traveled some ten or fifteen miles,
when we stopped at a small creek and camped. Next morning we traveled
on some twenty-five miles farther, when we came to a ranche, where
there was a great stock of horses, mules, jacks, jennies and horned
cattle. We hid our saddles before we approached the place, and went up
with our bundles of clothes and guns and asked for something to eat,
which was given us—plenty milk and bread. Only one or two of the people
could speak English, and that very indifferently. An old man, the head
of the place, and his drover and herdsman, spoke the best English. We
asked the old man to let us have a couple of horses and saddles, and we
would go with him a hunting and take our guns; we told him we wished
to see the country; he told us “yes,” and furnished us with horses. We
spent a week or more with him. We killed plenty of venison to supply
the whole ranche.

MURDER OF THE TWO MEXICANS IN TEXAS.

One day Wages told him that we wanted to go and camp out that night
about twenty-five miles off; we would be back next night, and wanted
one of his gentle mules to pack; he told us to take the mule and any
horses we pleased, and helped us to pack up, with water, provisions
and whatever we wanted. We started and remained out that night and
the next, and returned the third day. We had seven fine deer in all;
he asked what kept us so long—had we been lost? We told him we had,
and that while we were out we had met with an acquaintance of ours,
buying horses and mules, and that he had furnished us money to buy
thirty good horses and thirty mules, if we could get them delivered at
a certain place named, about one hundred miles from there. We showed
him the gold we had, and satisfied him as to the money, which was to
be paid on delivery of the horses and mules at the place mentioned.
The horses and mules were selected, and the price agreed upon. Gentle
lead and pack mules were selected, and every preparation was made for
our departure. We were to go with him and return with him, so as to
see that the contract was complied with. The day arrived and we set
out with five mules packed, and five gentle lead mules, with bells
on, and a young half-breed Indian to assist in driving, and all of
us mounted on the best of horses. We had managed to procure our new
saddles and put them in their packs, on a mule that was set apart for
us. Thus equipped, with plenty of water and provisions, we set out a
little after daylight. Our travel that day was upwards of thirty miles,
on account of having water. The next day was farther. We however made
the two points. The next day our only stopping place was about twenty
miles, and the next was thirty miles.

This twenty-mile place appeared to be a dead lake or spring, with an
underground discharge, with a few small groves of timber near by, and
several lakes or sinks in the ground, in the direction the water was
supposed to run under ground. We left our second night’s camp on the
third morning, and arrived at the twenty-mile place in the forenoon.
We, as usual, stripped and hampered our horses to graze, eat dinner,
and the old Mexican and his man lay down to sleep. Wages and I took our
guns and went off, pretending to hunt. We killed a turkey and a prairie
hen and a small deer. We cleaned our guns, wiped them out, loaded them
with the largest buck-shot, took our game and went to the camp. While
loading our guns, we made the arrangement in what way to dispatch our
traveling companions, for that was the way we intended to pay for the
horses and mules. So it was agreed that the next morning, before day,
we were to prepare some dry grass and have our guns ready; Wages was to
get up, wake me, and we were to set the straw on fire, to make a light
to see the position in which the two men lay.

All that night I did not sleep one minute of sound sleep. The most
awful and frightful dreams infested my mind all night, and Wages told
me the next day that his sleep was disturbed in the same way, and he
then regretted the act and wished he had not done it.

Wages rose in the morning and easily waked me, for I was not in a sound
sleep. We took our guns; I crawled close to where the young man lay,
and got my gun ready. Wages was to fire first. He put his light against
a small brush, and the old man partly waked and turned his face toward
Wages, who fired the contents of one barrel in the old man’s forehead.

The young man was lying with his back to me; I placed the muzzle of my
gun to the back of his head, where the neck joined it. My finger was
on the trigger. At the report of Wages’ gun, I pulled the trigger, and
there was but little distinction in the report of the two guns.

Both men gave a suppressed, struggling scream, and expired.

Our next work was to dispose of them, which we did by slinging them
with ropes, swinging them on a pole, carrying them to one of the sink
holes close to the camp, and burying them there. We deposited with them
all the clothes that had any blood on them; and with the hatchet they
had, we sharpened a short pole and partially covered them with dirt. We
next went to the camp and raked out with sticks and brush all the signs
of blood, and took brush and dry leaves and built fires on the ground
where we had killed them. All of this we had accomplished by a little
before sunrise.

Our next work was to prepare to leave the place. We took the old man’s
fine massive silver spurs, his silver stirrups and silver bridle bits,
his gold rings, sleeve buttons, etc. We took our new saddle and
bridles, and concealed all the old ones in the prairie, about five
miles from the camp. After we had arranged everything to our liking, we
gathered our pack mules and packed them; herded up the lead mule and
the drove; Wages mounted the old man’s horse, and I the young man’s, we
tied our other two horses together and turned them in the drove, and
all things being now completed, we set out about eight o’clock in the
morning.

We now had the sixty horses and mules and the ten lead and pack mules,
the two fine horses of the old man and his servant, and the two horses
he had loaned us to ride, which made seventy-four head in all, and
a better selected drove of horses never left Texas. We pursued our
journey that day very silent. Wages had but little to say and I had
less. We had in our hurry and confusion forgotten to supply ourselves
with water, and had but little victuals to eat that were cooked. About
a quart of water in our gourds, was all we had for the day. We came to
the water late in the evening. We suffered very much for water that
day, as did our horses. We stripped and hampered them to graze, after
they had got water, and then prepared some thing for ourselves. We had
our turkey and part of the deer; we built a fire and barbecued the
game. After we had eat, Wages said he could not sleep, and told me to
lie down and take a nap.

I laid down, but could not sleep. Every time I would fall into a doze,
the vision of the young man I had killed the night before, would
appear before my eyes, and I would start up in a fright. After several
ineffectual attempts, I finally got up, and told Wages I could not
sleep, and told him to try it. He laid down and was quite still for
some time. All at once he screamed out “Oh! my God!” and jumped upon
his feet. I called and asked what was the matter, and he declared
that he saw the old man he had killed, standing over him, and that he
plainly saw the shot holes in his head, and the blood running down his
face. So we both set up the balance of the night.

The next morning we started very early. About noon we came to a large
creek where we procured plenty of water for ourselves and the drove;
we halted and rested awhile, and then pursued our journey with little
delay, making the route as direct as possible for the mouth of Red
River. We did not pass the settlement on Irish Bayou, nor Natchitoches.
We arrived at the mouth of Red River and went down the river until we
came opposite Bayou Sara, where we had our horses and mules ferried
over.

We went to a man living out from the river, and effected a sale of all
the horses, except the four saddle horses. We went up into Wilkinson
County, Mississippi, where we sold all the mules, getting fifty dollars
for each of the horses and an average of seventy-five dollars for each
of the mules. We sold the two saddle horses that Wages and myself rode
before we killed the two Mexicans, for one hundred dollars each. We
then shaped our course for Natchez, and when within about twenty miles
of it, we effected sale of the two horses we were riding, to one man;
he gave Wages one hundred and fifty dollars for the horse the old
Mexican had, and he gave me one hundred and twenty-five dollars for
the one I rode, and sent us in a carriage to Natchez, where we arrived
about the last of June. We had realized on our trip that time about six
thousand six hundred and seventy-five dollars.

We had not been in Natchez long before a steamboat passed down and
we went on board. We had preserved our saddles, bridles and all our
traveling equipage. We landed at New Orleans, went to the bank and
deposited all our money, but a few hundred dollars, which we retained
in gold coin—two and a half and five dollar pieces. We remained in New
Orleans to spend the fourth of July with our associates there.

On the 5th of July, 1841, Wages and I left New Orleans and embarked
on a small steamboat bound to Shreveport on Red River, taking with us
our saddles, bridles and traveling equipage. In consequence of very
dry weather Red River was very low. We had some delay in getting to
Shreveport. We, however, reached there, and found some wagons traveling
out to the interior of Texas. We made arrangements with them to haul
our baggage, and we traveled with them part of the time, some times
before them and some times behind. We kept with us our bridles and
ropes or lassoes. About the fourth day after we left Shreveport, we
started on before the wagons, and traveled some fifteen to twenty
miles. By noon we came to a settlement on the border of a small river,
one branch of the Trinity, we supposed, and there rested and eat some
bread and meat. In the evening we reconnoitered and discovered in the
vicinity a large, newly settled plantation, a good number of horses
and mules grazing around, and a large number of negroes about the
place. Wages sent me to watch on the main road for the wagons, while
he watched the horses and mules. About sunset a negro came to drive
the horses and mules to their lot. Wages asked what his master’s name
was and what State he moved from. He told Wages his master’s name was
Smith; and he moved from South Carolina. Wages asked if he was a good
master. The negro said no; that he did not feed well nor clothe well,
and that he drove hard and whipped hard. Wages then told the negro, if
he would come down that night to the ferry, which was about two miles
off, he would give him a shirt and pantaloons and a dram. Wages then
came to where I was stationed on the road, but the wagons had passed
about one hour before. We hurried on and got to the ferry a little
after dark. The wagons had just got over and were camped on the other
bank. We called, and the ferryman let us over, and went to his house
some distance off. We took supper with the wagons. After supper, Wages
and I feigned an excuse to cross the river to bathe. We took with us a
flask of whiskey and the shirt and pantaloons Wages had promised the
negro, and crossed in the ferry flat. We made fast the flat, went up
the bank and there we found the negro, true to his promise. Wages gave
him the dram and the shirt and pantaloons. Wages then asked the negro
if he did not want to leave his master and go to a free State. The
negro said he did; that he had runaway three times in South Carolina
and started to Ohio, but was caught every time. Wages then gave him
another dram and asked him if he could steal three of the best horses
on his master’s plantation, and bring them to that ferry the next night
or the night after. The negro said he could. Wages then told him, if he
would bring the three horses and one bridle and saddle and go with us,
that he would take him to a free State. The negro promised to do so,
and said he could do it next night as well as any other time and said
he had two halters to lead with, and an old wagon saddle. We told him
we had saddles and bridles. We gave him another dram and let him go,
and we wet our heads and crossed over to the camp.

Next morning we told the wagoners that we would stop a few days in the
vicinity, and rest awhile and hunt. We went on two or three miles, to
the border of the prairie, and took out our baggage, among which we had
two small three-gallon kegs of whiskey, one full, and the other with
about one gallon in. We paid for hauling our things, bid the wagoners
adieu, and they drove on. We shouldered our baggage, as much as we
could carry; went a short distance from the road and concealed it; and
went back and took the rest to the same place. We then took our flasks
full of whiskey, our two gourds full of water, and some salt, and went
about a mile on the edge of the prairie, where we built a small fire.
We next turned out to hunt meat. We could find plenty of cattle, but
were afraid to shoot them so near the settlement, for fear of discovery
before we had accomplished our purpose. We hunted some time and finally
came in view of a small grove of trees, about a half mile distant.
Wages and I separated; I went on one side and he on the other of the
grove, and we found a few deer there. We killed one small buck, which
we took back to our camp and skinned and barbecued him, and eat, and
prepared the rest to take with us. We laid down for a nap and awoke
about an hour by sun; and took our things to where we had the others
concealed. About sunset we eat our supper, took our bridles, lassoes,
guns, and flasks of whiskey, and started back to the ferry, which we
reached about half an hour after dark. We concealed ourselves near
the landing, until about nine o’clock. Wages then took the ferry flat
and went over the river; I remained on the same side to watch. If we
discovered any person we were to make the noise of the swamp owl.

Wages had been across about an hour when up came the negro, with the
three horses; Wages immediately took the negro and horses in the flat
and crossed over. We soon put bridles on the horses and Wages mounted
one and I mounted the other—bare backed. Wages took the lead, the
negro next; and I in behind; we both had our guns well loaded and both
cocked, for fear the negro had betrayed us, and we were determined to
kill with every load in our guns, if attacked. We soon arrived at the
place of our baggage. Wages and I very soon saddled our horses and
divided our baggage and gave a part to the negro. We then divided the
whiskey and had about one gallon and a half in each keg; I took one
and the negro one, and we tied them to our saddles with the ropes. We
filled our two flasks; Wages took our meat, and about eleven o’clock
that night we all set out, Wages ahead, the negro next and I in the
rear, and I assure you we pushed from the word go, all that night,
mostly through prairies.

Some time before day we came to a settlement, and a little farther on
we came to a small river. Knowing it must be very low, we determined
to ford or swim. We started in; it was very deep. About the middle, we
came to a gravelly bar. Wages halted, and said to us that he could see
a ferry flat; he believed the water was very deep near the shore, and
we must swim and try and land above the ferry flat. He told me to take
care of my gun and ammunition and to wait until he and the negro got
through and out. They started, and got to the bank. Such splashing you
never did hear. Wages got out; the negro’s horse bogged; he jumped off
and took the bridle, and the horse got out. Wages then told me to bear
up, which I did, and got through. We then got water, filled our gourds
and took each a dram, mounted our horses and pushed on again till
daylight appeared.

Wages and I then consulted, whether to keep on or lay by through the
day. We concluded it was safer to stop, conceal the negro and horses,
and watch the road. We began to look out for some woodland, and about
half an hour after sunrise we descried woodland to the west, at some
distance. We made for it, stripped our horses and hampered them to
graze; took our dram, some water, and eat our breakfast on venison
without bread, and Wages took his gun and went to watch the road, I
took my gun and went west to hunt water. We left the negro to mind the
horses; we took our flasks; each went his own way. I walked about a
mile and came to some prairie land, and a short distance further I saw
woodland and plenty of cattle and horses; I knew there must be water
there. I hunted and found plenty, but it was very bad. In searching
around, I found a flock of turkeys and killed two and cleaned and
washed them there and went back to the camp. The negro had been tasting
the contents of his keg, as he said, to make it lighter, and he was
pretty tight; I told him he must stop that until we got further off; he
said he would. We made a fire and roasted our turkeys. I told the negro
to go to sleep, which he did. After he had slept his nap out, I laid
down and told him to watch and wake me about two hours before sunset.
We then put saddles on two horses and led one, and went with our gourds
to the water. Our horses drank _some_; the negro drank powerfully—the
whiskey he had taken down made his coppers a little hot. We filled
the gourds and returned to camp, where we had dried all the traveling
equipage, and we then packed and arranged everything, ready to travel
when Wages should return.

About sunset he came in and informed us that no person had passed the
road in pursuit of us; but that two men had passed the other way,
and if we had kept on that day we should in all probability have got
ourselves in trouble, for these men said they were in pursuit of two
thieves who had stolen two horses and three negroes on the Irish Bayou,
in April last, and that the same thieves were suspected of having
poisoned the overseer on the same plantation. They told Wages they
had traveled nearly all Texas; they had been to San Antonio, and all
western Texas, and could get no news of the fellows. Wages then told
them that he had a family and resided about twenty miles from that
place, on the next river they would come to, about ten miles below the
ferry; he was looking for his horses; that he had removed from South
Carolina; that he crossed the Mississippi river about the first of May,
and had met two men with two very good horses and three negroes, and
they were near the river. He described the horses and negroes, and they
declared they were the same that had been stolen. Wages then inquired
if they had seen his horses. They said they had not. He then said to
them: “Gentlemen, I have a little whiskey in my flask; will you take
some?” They replied they would, if it did not disfurnish him. He told
them he should return to a camp he had, about five miles off, where
he had some comrades helping him to hunt his horses, and they had a
little more there in a small jug. They drank. Wages then inquired of
them about the country south and west of there, and about the roads and
the water, etc. They told him it was fifteen miles to the first water—a
large creek, but fordable; and that it was twenty-five miles to the
next, and that was to ferry. Wages having obtained the information he
required, offered them his flask again. The sun then was about one hour
and a half high. He saw three men come riding from the same way we had
come; they were riding very fast; they rode up and inquired which way
we were traveling. Wages told them he lived east of that about twenty
miles; was hunting his horse. The other two men stated they were on
the hunt of some stolen horses and negroes, that were taken from the
settlement on Irish Bayou, in April; that they had been through western
Texas, and were now direct from San Antonio. The three men enquired how
far they had traveled that day. They said from the last ferry, about
forty miles. They then inquired if the two men had met any person on
the road. They replied no. One of the three then said that some person
had stolen a negro and three horses from them the night before, and
they were in pursuit of them, and they had seen signs where they had
swam the river, ten miles back. Wages then told them that just after
daylight that morning his dog had awakened him, and he looked some
distance off and saw a white man and a negro on horseback, traveling a
new road, in a southeast direction, and about twenty miles southeast
from that place. The negro had a lead horse. Then Wages described to
them the horses (which were the same we had). They said they were
the same, and immediately turned their course. Wages gave them some
directions and they all left. Wages then hurried to our camp as fast as
he possibly could.

On his arrival I could see that something was wrong; that he was
irritated, and, I thought, alarmed. He was much exhausted for want of
water; he took a little and a dram, eat a few mouthfuls of turkey and
sat down. He told the negro to catch the horses, put the bridles on and
hitch them, saddle his own horse, and have everything ready as quick as
possible. The negro started. Wages then said to me: “James, I am more
alarmed now than I ever have been since you and I first started out in
Alabama. Our situation is truly a critical and dangerous one, and I am
at a loss what to do.” He then told me what information he had that day
received, and then asked me what I thought it best to do. I reflected
for a few moments, and this idea immediately occurred to me, and I
said to Wages: “We must cross that forty-mile ferry before daylight
to-morrow morning.” Wages studied a few moments and said “agreed!”
and we were not long in saddling up and packing all things, ready to
travel. We filled our flasks with whiskey, gave our negro a good horn,
and drilled him as to the mode of travel. About dark we left our place
of concealment.

Wages took the lead, the negro about thirty-five yards behind, and I
about thirty-five yards behind him, so as to evade any sudden surprise.
We soon reached the main road, and Wages pushed on at a fast gait. In
about three hours we reached the fifteen-mile creek; here we stopped
about three-quarters of an hour, let our horses drink and blow; we
got water, eat some of our turkey, took a dram, and gave the negro
one, filled our gourds with water, and about eleven o’clock we started
again, Wages in the lead, and traveled until about three o’clock in
the morning. We saw a light near the road; Wages stopped and came back
to me to know if he should ride up and inquire how far it was to the
ferry. I told him no; that the best way would be to go round the fire
and push on, which we did, and about two or three miles further we came
to woodland and a plantation. We quickened our pace, and about one mile
further, a little before four o’clock, we reached the ferry. Wages told
me to strip off my clothes and he would do the same. We stripped, and
placed the negro in the bushes with the horses. We swam over and were
not many minutes getting the flat over. We put on our clothes, took the
horses and negro, and crossed over. Our horses drank, and the negro
filled our gourds while we were crossing. We landed, made the flat
fast, as we had found it, mounted the horses and left in a hurry.

As we got out from the river we could see the appearance of day. Our
horses we could discover were getting very much fagged. There was a
farm at the ferry, and so we went out through a lane. We did not travel
far before day, and we soon reached the outskirts of the woodland and
came again to the open prairie. Wages then stopped and said we had
better leave the road and lay-by again. We left the road, and went in
a westerly direction, up the river, on the border of the woodland and
prairie, about two miles, and then stopped. We stripped our horses and
hampered them, as usual, to graze. Wages complained of being sick; was
low spirited; I told him and the negro to lie down and take a nap.
They eat some of my turkey, laid down, and soon went to sleep. I took
a good dram and eat as much turkey as I wanted, and there was but
little left. I then took my gun and hunted around a short distance; I
found we were not more than one mile from a plantation; I saw plenty of
stock, hogs and cattle, but was afraid to shoot one so early in the
day; I hunted around for water, and above the plantation I came to the
river, about one mile and a half from where our horses were. I went
back to the camp; Wages and the negro were still asleep; the horses had
filled themselves and were lying down under the shade of a tree. I took
another dram, a little water and laid down to rest. In about an hour
Wages awoke and got up; said he felt better. I then related to him my
discovery; he said we must be very cautious, and told me to lie down
and take a nap. I showed him the direction where the water was, and he
rode one of the horses at a time, until he gave them all water; he then
took the negro and they went and killed a small beef, and about sunset
brought in the hind quarters. We soon had a fire of wood that did not
make much smoke; roasted as much beef as we could eat; cut up the
balance and dried it; took with us what we could conveniently carry,
and about dark set out again, not knowing where we would get the next
water. Our salt, too, had given out.

We traveled that night about twenty miles before we came to water,
and that was a small creek that scarcely run, and had very little
timber land about it. Wages said our safest course would be to conceal
ourselves there until he could reconnoitre. We remained there until
near daylight, gave our horses water and started. We soon struck the
prairie, and again turned to the west and went some two miles along a
trail to a piece of woodland, where we again stripped our horses and
hampered them to graze. We built a fire and barbecued our meat. Wages
then told me and the negro to lie down and sleep, and he would take a
look around. I went to sleep, and about twelve or one o’clock Wages
awoke me, and when I opened my eyes there was another man with him—a
large, dark-skinned, coarse-looking fellow. Wages introduced me to Mr.
James; Wages had known Ben James for many years. James then told me
that he was settled there for the same business we were in, and that
we would be safer with him than by going on; by remaining with him we
could rest and refresh ourselves and horses, and that he would go with
us to another of our clan, about one hundred miles from San Antonio,
where our negro and horses would be safe until we left again for the
Mississippi river. This other man’s name was Scott, from Mississippi.
James advised us not to sell the negro or horses in Texas; that there
were plenty of men in Texas who followed hunting and trailing thieves
and robbers, and that they had dogs of the bloodhound breed that would
be certain to overtake us if they got after us.

We went to James’ place; concealed our horses and negro, and remained
with him five days, during which time Wages and I watched the road
closely to see if any person passed in pursuit of us, particularly at
the ford of the creek.

James provided his family with meat and bread for the two weeks trip
he intended to make with us. He advised us to leave the main road and
go with him to the house of the man Scott. He piloted us through. We
traveled the most of the way by night, and arrived at Scott’s the
fourth night. After making the proper arrangement with Scott, we sent
our horses out in the mountains and the negro to take care of them,
with a man that Scott had employed for that purpose, for we understood
afterward from James that they always had from one to two hundred head
of stolen horses there, which it was the business of this man James to
steal and drive and sell. We paid him fifty dollars for piloting us
through.

After we had rested and all things were arranged, Wages and I took our
bridles and lassoes, with a few clothes in a small bundle, and left
in a direction for San Antonio. It was now about the first of August.
We traveled about twenty miles the first day; the weather was very
hot, water was scarce, and we suffered a great deal. We changed our
course so as to pass through a section of country where water was more
plentiful, and on the evening of the second day we reached a settlement
where there was plenty of water and the inhabitants were thickly
settled. At the house of a very respectable farmer we stopped and
inquired if we could rest two or three days, and were told we could.
A great many questions were asked us about our journey, where we were
from, where we were going, and the object of our journey; to which we
answered them we were South Carolina planters looking for good land;
that we were large slave holders, etc., and that we came in summer
and took it on foot leisurely to ascertain the health of the country.
We inquired if there were any churches in the vicinity, and were told
there were none, but that traveling preachers sometimes preached at
private houses. We were then informed that there was to be a large camp
meeting about the middle of August about twenty miles from there. We at
once agreed to attend, because we were almost certain we should meet
McGrath there.

We accordingly attended, and sure enough we met that reverend
gentleman. Through some of the brethren we obtained an introduction
to the Rev. Mr. McGrath, and after the preliminary conversation
we became very strict members of the church. We obtained a short
private interview with McGrath, and made an appointment for a private
conference that night; and accordingly that night, after supper,
preaching and prayer meeting were over and the patrol was out and
stationed, and all things were still, McGrath, Wages and I went outside
of the patrol lines to hold private prayer. No one suspected anything.
After we were alone McGrath inquired what success we had met with, and
we related to him all we had done, in a condensed form, which seemed
to astonish him when we told him we had a negro and three line horses
yet concealed and not disposed of. We then inquired his success. He
had made a raise out of the religious brethren of about one thousand
dollars, by begging, and they had paid for four fine horses for him,
which was equivalent to about five hundred dollars more. He would sell
his horse, saddle and bridle, and go to his congregation and tell them
he had been robbed of his horse and all his money and clothes. The
people would throw into the “hat,” and buy another horse, and fit him
out with new clothes and money. The horse he then had was given him
about fifty miles from there, and if we would steal his horse and hide
him the brethren would soon give him another. Wages did this the next
night, and concealed the horse in the woods not far from a plantation,
where he procured green corn to feed him, about five miles from the
camp ground. Next day there was found a piece of broken rope to the
tree, and the preacher’s horse was gone. There was a great noise about
it. McGrath told the brethren he thought he knew the place the horse
would go to, and that he could obtain him if he had another horse. They
furnished him with one, which he was to return if he obtained his own.
The one furnished was a splendid young horse. Wages, about an hour
before sunset, would stroll off and go to where the horse was, and
water and feed him about dark, and back to supper and then to prayer.

The meeting lasted four days. The night before the meeting broke up,
there was another preacher’s horse that went the same way. He was a
remarkable fine horse, and belonged to an old preacher who lived about
seventy miles from the camp ground. We now had ourselves again on
horseback. It was then understood between Wages, McGrath and myself
that it would not be safe for us to go to San Antonio, and that we
had better leave Texas as soon as possible. We arranged with McGrath
to meet us at Scott’s in three days. Wages and I called on some of
the preachers to pray for us, announcing to them our departure on our
exploring expedition on foot. Many of the brothers and sisters joined
in this prayer. After receiving the benedictions of the elders of the
church, Wages and I left about three o’clock. We had left our guns at
a house about two miles distant from the camp ground. We took them,
procured some bread and meat, and a bottle to carry some water, and
then went to the place where Wages had concealed the horses, found
them safe, and more green corn around them than they could have eaten
in two days. We then took out our bridles from our bundles and fitted
them on. Wages had stolen blankets with the horses, and two bed quilts.
We arranged these to ride on, and with our ropes or lassoes, we made
substitutes for stirrups. By this time it was sundown. We took our guns
and looked around to see if there were any spies out. We saw no one
except the people on the farm, driving in their stock. We returned to
the horses, and about dark set out. Wages took the lead on McGrath’s
horse, a fine traveler, and I, on the other, just walked right up to
him. We traveled about six miles an hour and did not push. Before day
sometime, we had traveled some forty-five miles to a creek, and knew we
were within twenty or twenty-five miles of Scott’s. We laid by all next
day. About sundown, we again started, and reached Scott’s before that
night.

Long before daylight next morning, our horses were sent off to the
mountains with the others. The next day up rolled the Rev. Mr. McGrath.
We introduced him as the Rev. Mr. McGrath, whom we had seen in South
Carolina. Mr. Scott and family invited him to spend two or three days,
during which time Wages, McGrath and I had a full consultation.

Having been with Wages so long, I knew his judgment to be superior to
mine, and I knew that McGrath was wanting in stability; that he was
too wild and uncertain in his actions; I therefore proposed to let
Wages plan out our future course, which McGrath agreed to. Wages then
said: “Boys, it is time some of us were leaving Texas—particularly
James and I. Mac, you can remain here as a striker for us, until we
get those negroes you have described to us. You say there are seven of
them—two men and their wives, one of them with one and the other with
two children, and the youngest child is about four years old. They will
have to be carried away by water. We never can get them away by land,
and the Christmas holidays will be the only time that we can effect
that with safety.”

“Now,” said Wages, “my plan is this: You leave here before we do,
one or two days, and wait for us at some point and pilot us through
to Red river, above Shreveport, where we can cross with our negro and
horses and land in the Indian Nation. You can then remain and preach
around until Christmas; you appoint a two or three days’ meeting for
the negroes near Red River; pretend to prevent frolic and drunkenness,
and about that time James and I will be on hand, with a boat to effect
our object; and it will be policy,” said Wages to McGrath, “for you to
remain some weeks after we are off with the negroes, and meet us at
Natchez or Vicksburg.”

McGrath agreed to this; directed us what route to take; promised that
he would meet us at a river, about sixty miles from Scott’s, on the
fifth night from that time, and that he would wait there for us. On the
morning of the fourth day McGrath bid farewell to Mr. Scott and family,
promising to call and see them again, God willing. We remained two days
longer; prepared ourselves with some packs and provisions, and went to
the mountains where our horses were. We paid Scott fifty dollars for
his trouble. We packed our horses and led them; Scott sent a pilot with
us, to conduct us through the mountains, a by-way, about forty miles,
which we traveled in two days; he then put us in the road to go to
where we were to meet McGrath, and we met him on the night appointed.
He had all things in readiness. We crossed the river and laid by in
daytime and traveled by night, McGrath with us.

He would go ahead to houses, lay by and sleep, and pray for the people;
and tell them that he traveled of a night from choice, on account of
the heat. On the third morning after McGrath joined us, we arrived
at a good place, where there was plenty of water, about thirty-five
miles from Red river. There we told McGrath to ride on ahead, get his
horse fed, and breakfast, and then go on to the ferry. This he did; he
crossed over and stopped near the landing. The ferryman was a negro;
McGrath procured a bottle of whiskey, to which he had added plenty of
opium, and treated the ferryman liberally. He tied his horse up, got
corn from the ferryman, and by eleven o’clock he had the ferryman as
limber as a cotton rag. He then took the ferry flat and crossed over
to meet us. We got to the ferry about two o’clock, crossed over and
traveled until daylight, McGrath with us. After day we turned off from
the road to a place where some Indian families lived, and there bought
some corn, meat and bread, and fed our horses and ourselves, and rested
that day, and started again that night, McGrath with us. That night we
traveled about forty miles; next morning we traveled until we found a
place off the main road where we could rest secure. Here we stopped
again with Indians. We procured plenty for ourselves and horses, and
rested that day. Here we made our arrangements permanent, and reduced
them to black and white, in our usual mystic character. We were to meet
above Shreveport a few miles, on the 20th of December coming, with a
proper skiff, prepared with provisions, etc.

All matters thus arranged, McGrath took off his traveling hunting shirt
and straw hat; put on his long, straight-breasted bombazine coat and
his broad-brimmed black beaver, and gave us a sound of his colloquial
benediction of, “Hark from the tombs, gentlemen,” and steered his
course southeast, into Louisiana towards Alexandria; whilst we steered
our course to the northeast in the direction for the Washita below
Monroe, some fifty miles.

We soon got into the settlements and began to feed and rub our horses
and blanket them. It was now September; cotton was to pick out, plenty;
we persuaded our negro he had better pick out cotton a while, until
we could sell the horses and get money to carry us to Cincinnati; he
agreed. We cautioned him about answering questions, which he had his
instructions how to answer. We hired him to a man in an obscure place
on Black River or Bayou; we traveled out through the country and soon
sold our fine horses and for a fine price. We got from one hundred and
seventy-five to two hundred and thirty dollars apiece. We sold all the
horses before the first of October; they averaged us a little short
of a thousand dollars. While selling, we met with a man by the name
of Harden; he said he was a distant relation of John Harden. He had
been selling negroes from Tennessee; he soon made us know, and we soon
made him know, that we were all of the same family; we then conversed
freely. He told us that he was clear—that he had sold out, and was
overrun with money. We told him we had one darkey on hand; he said he
would go with us and look at our negro; and did go. He told the negro
that he lived in Cincinnati; was agent for an Abolition society, and
that he would like to take him there. The negro agreed, and was very
anxious. Harden then told Wages and myself that if we would deliver
him the negro at Napoleon, Arkansas, he would give us one thousand
dollars for him. We agreed, and the day was set to deliver him. Harden
then told the negro that he had to go to Natchez, and would meet us at
the mouth of the Arkansas river. We now disposed of our saddles and
bridles, and took our negro and packs, and made for the Mississippi
river at Vicksburg, where we got on a steamboat for Napoleon. We
landed, and again set our darkey to picking out cotton. Harden came in
a few days, paid the thousand dollars, and took the negro. He requested
us to remain there a few days. We made him a bill of sale in the name
of the negro’s master—Smith, by which name I passed. Wages passed
as Mr. Jones and Harden by the name of John Newton. He was the same
man that afterward, in 1843, murdered old Robert Lott. Harden then
went with me to take his negro. I told the negro that his master had
just landed in pursuit of him, and that he must go with Mr. Newton;
it was his only chance to escape; that if he was found we should all
be hanged, and he carried back to Texas. He agreed, and Harden went
up the Arkansas river about twenty-five miles and sold the negro for
twelve hundred and fifty dollars; got a draft on New Orleans for his
money, payable in ninety days; was gone only four days, and returned to
Napoleon.

Wages and I then informed him of our contemplated trip to Louisiana,
about Christmas, and consulted with him as to the mode of operation. He
and Wages both agreed in opinion, and Harden suggested to us that the
best plan would be to go to Cincinnati and procure a good skiff, large
enough to carry twenty persons, and fit her out with six row-locks and
six good oars; pretend her for a peddling boat on Red river; lay in
some whiskey, bacon, flour and other articles to trade upon; and have
the boat towed down to the mouth of Red river or Bayou Sara; land the
freight; take the first Red river boat up to Shreveport; there fit out
the skiff and go up the river trading, until the opportunity to steal
the negroes is offered.

This arrangement understood, Harden proposed to join us; go to
Cincinnati with us, and take chances. We all took the first boat that
passed, the “Tribune,” bound to Pittsburg, and passed Louisville and
landed in Cincinnati the ninth day. We immediately made a contract
to have the skiff built; it was to be ready in two weeks, and was to
be large enough to carry twenty-five barrels of freight, and to be
long and narrow, so as to row swift. During the time the boat was
building, we made some purchases of whiskey, flour, bacon and other
produce, and during our stay in Cincinnati we all pretended to be
strong Abolitionists, attended several private meetings, and formed
acquaintance with several free negroes, to whom we communicated our
intention to steal the seven negroes near Shreveport, and bring them
to Cincinnati. They very much approved the idea. We then proposed for
two of them to go with us and assist in bringing the negroes away.
There were two of them, that had been employed as stewards on board of
steamboats, that agreed to go, and they took situations on a steamboat
for that purpose.

Our skiff being finished and all accounts settled, we contracted with
the captain of a steamboat on which our two free darkies were employed,
to take our freight and tow our skiff to Bayou Sara. The passage was
long, on account of low water. We arrived at Bayou Sara about the tenth
of November, and landed our freight and skiff. Wages and I stopped;
Harden and the two free negroes went on. Harden to get his draft
accepted, and the free darkies to get on a Red river boat; and they
were all to make an arrangement for a boat bound to Shreveport, to call
and take us and our freight.

After they left, Wages went to see our old friend, Mr. Welter, relative
to the arrangement and disposal of our two free darkies. An arrangement
was soon made, for our old friend W., knew the ropes too well to
hesitate long.

About the twentieth of November a small steamboat landed (on board were
Harden and our two darkies,) which had been specially employed to take
our freight. We shipped our freight and took the skiff in tow and put
off. On the way up, Wages, Harden and I made the necessary arrangement
for our future plan of action. Harden was to go with us to Shreveport,
and there feign himself sick; and let Wages and I take our two darkies
in the skiff and our freight, and start up the river. Accordingly, we
reached Shreveport about the fifth of December, and Harden was taken
sick; Wages and I hurried our darkies, loaded our skiff and left for
up the river. We went up the river to the ferry we had crossed with
McGrath, and there we stopped. I went to selling, sometimes to Indians,
sometime to whites, and very often to negroes. Wages procured a horse
and saddle and put out in pursuit of McGrath, and found him at the
house of the old Methodist that owned the seven negroes we were after.
McGrath was sick; had been very sick; but was then able to walk about
and take occasional rides. Wages and McGrath got an opportunity to have
a private interview for a few minutes. They were to meet the next day
on the road, five miles from that place. Wages staid all night, paid
his bill next morning and left after breakfast, enquiring for some
stray mules. McGrath started for the residence of a brother Methodist,
some ten miles distant—and they both met at the place appointed and
held their consultation.

The negro camp meeting had been already appointed, about ten or twelve
miles above Shreveport and about two miles from the river. Wages and
McGrath having fully understood how to act, Wages told him where the
boat could be found, ten days before Christmas, and they parted, and
Wages returned.

Accordingly, at the time appointed, McGrath was at the boat. We had him
and his horse provided for; he was made acquainted with our two free
darkies, and all things were arranged and understood well that night.
McGrath left next morning to prepare for the camp meeting, which was to
commence in eight days. We loitered away our time; and two days before
the commencement of the camp meeting, we dropped our skiff to a landing
opposite the camp ground, where we lay trading. We had sold almost
everything we had.

On the morning of the commencement of the meeting, we set our two free
darkies over the river, and they went to the place early in the day.
Wages and I cleared out our skiff of all barrels, boxes and dunnage
of every description, and had everything in complete trim, row locks,
oars and all ready. The meeting commenced. We had instructed our free
darkies to what landing place to conduct these seven negroes we were
stealing; and on the first night of the meeting, sure enough they all
came to us. Their master had furnished them with two mules and a wagon,
to haul their bedding, etc., to the camp ground, and they had brought
all their clothing, bedding, and everything they had. They informed us
that they had sold all their poultry and crop, and had got money to
support them for the year. They had procured another negro to drive the
mules and wagon back to the camp ground; and by nine o’clock that night
we were under way down stream.

WELTER AND HARDEN’S DECEPTION—WELTER ACTING AS UNITED STATES MARSHAL.

We rigged all six of the oars; one of the women pulled one oar and I
pulled one; Wages sometimes spelled me, and I would steer the boat,
and the women would sometimes spell each other, and we run at the rate
of about ten miles an hour. About eleven o’clock that night we passed
Shreveport, and before day sometime, we passed Natchitoches, the point
we were striving to make, for we knew there was a bayou about five
miles below, where we could hide ourselves and skiff through the day.
We put into the bayou a little before day, and at daylight we landed
our skiff in some bushes and high grass, and we all went on shore in
a thick palmetto swamp, built a good fire, cooked and eat, and drank
good whiskey and every one slept what they wanted; and about sunset
we left and rowed into the river again. By this time they all had got
themselves more accustomed to rowing, and made better headway and with
more ease. We run on in the night and lay-by in the day; and the third
night we reached the mouth of Red River and lay in the swamp that day;
and the fourth night, about midnight, we reached Tunica, and run our
skiff in a creek just above; made a fire in the swamp and remained till
daylight. After daylight sometime, we eat breakfast and Wages and I
made an excuse to go to the village of Tunica to buy some cigars, and
to get some eggs, etc. The negroes set us over with the skiff; we went
down to the village and went to the tavern. There we found our old
friend, Welter, and Harden, and three other men whom Welter introduced
us to as his friends and acquaintances, but they were in fact his
“strikers.” Harden immediately after we left him at Shreveport had gone
down the river to Welter’s and informed him where to meet us.

We held a consultation as to the best plan to pursue, and we all
finally agreed that the safest and best plan was to let Welter take
all the negroes and pay us for them. He was to pay Harden for the two
free fellows one thousand dollars in cash and his note for one thousand
payable in six months. He was to pay Wages and I for our seven negroes
and the skiff with all the apparatus, eight hundred dollars in cash
and his note for four thousand dollars, payable in six months. After
this arrangement was concluded Wages and I went to the skiff, took
our guns to go a hunting, and then returned to the village. About two
hours before sunset Welter took Harden and his three men, got a small
boat and went up to the creek where all the negroes were. But before
they got to the place they tied Harden’s hands behind him to make the
negroes believe that he was a prisoner for negro stealing. Welter and
his men surrounded the camp and took all the negroes prisoners, and
then brought up Harden tied. Welter then informed the two free negroes
that he was the United States Marshal, and that it was his duty to
take them and Harden back to Shreveport, where they would be tried for
the crime of negro stealing, and that the punishment would be death
or the penitentiary for life; but that he did not know that he could
prove Harden guilty, and then asked them if Harden had been with them.
They declared he had not. Welter then told the negroes that he knew
them; that they had been stolen once before and sold in Louisiana,
and that he knew all about them, and made them confess the truth. He
then told the free negroes that their case was a desperate one; that
it would be impossible for them to escape; and then asked them which
they would prefer, to stand their trial or be sold as slaves for life.
They said they had rather be sold as slaves; so he tied their feet,
after putting them in the boat, and took in all their dunnage, and the
other seven negroes. Upon their positive declaration that Harden was
not concerned he was released, and a little after dark they rowed down
to the village. Welter placed his three “strikers” to guard the boat
and negroes, while he and Harden went on shore, and we all went into a
private room in the tavern, where we executed bills of sale for the
negroes, dated them in Buncombe county, N. C., and signed fictitious
names and witnesses. Welter paid us our money according to contract
and executed the notes, after which we took a good supper together
and drank three or four bottles of wine, and Welter left us. We went
with him nearly to his boat and bid him good-by and good luck, and he
rowed off down the river for home. Wages, Harden and I returned to
the tavern, went to our room and to bed and slept very sound. Next
morning we arose much refreshed, and greatly relieved in mind. We went
very early to a coffee house, took a cup of coffee and our bitters,
and returned to our room to consult as to the best course to pursue.
We concluded to leave in the first boat for Natchez. We accordingly
got breakfast, paid our bills and placed our guns and baggage at the
nearest depot to the landing. We had to wait till late in the day
before we could get a boat. We at last saw one coming, and procured a
skiff to put us on board. At a signal the boat rounded to, and we went
on board, registered our names (all fictitious) and paid our passage to
Natchez.

WAGES’ AND HARDEN’S PLOT TO KILL ROBERT LOTT AND THOMAS SUMRALL.

When we landed at Natchez we all stopped at different hotels, but while
there, some ten days, we had interviews and consultations every day. It
was then that Wages and Harden made the plot to kill old Thomas Sumrall
and old Robert Lott, and for that purpose Wages furnished Harden a map
of all the roads in Perry county, Miss. Harden then informed us that he
had a partner in Tennessee by the name of Goodwin, and that he expected
Goodwin had, in a cave in the Cumberland mountains, several negroes
then waiting for him to run off and sell, and that he must go up with
the first rise of water so as to come down with the spring freshet. We
all then made an arrangement to meet in New Orleans at a certain place
on the Fourth of July coming, so as to collect our money from Welter,
and for Harden to get the money on his draft for the negro sold on the
Arkansas river, which he had deposited in bank for collection.

Our ten days in Natchez having expired, Harden and I took passage on
a steamboat, Harden for Tennessee, and I for Vicksburg to await the
arrival of McGrath. Wages was to be at Vicksburg in three or four days.
I landed at Vicksburg; Harden went on. I went to one of the hotels,
put up and waited for McGrath. On the sixth day Wages came, and went
to another hotel, and we both waited there another week and still no
McGrath. We began to get uneasy. However, three or four days after,
I was standing on the bank of the river, when I saw a man dressed in
coarse negro clothing, black and ragged, an old flapped hat, a pair of
old saddle-bags on his arm and a big stick in his hand. He came up to
me to inquire the road to Jackson. I did not know him at first, but he
soon made me know him. It was McGrath. He inquired for Wages; I told
him Wages was there; I told him to go to the cheapest boarding house,
which he did, and his appearance caused him to have to pay his dollar
in advance. That night we all got together, Wages, McGrath and myself;
we went below the city and had a long consultation. We told McGrath
what we had done, and gave him a full history of Harden and his two
free negroes, and where Harden had gone, etc. He next gave us a detail
of his voyage through the camp meeting and since, up to that time.

He said the next day after the seven negroes had left the camp ground
he saw their mules and wagon, and no person appeared to be about them.
A very likely young negro watered and sometimes fed the mules, and on
the second day he went to the negro and asked what had become of the
negroes that came with that wagon and mules. The boy answered first he
did not know, and looked confused. He then said to the negro to tell
him the truth and he would keep the secret and not expose him; the
negro then told him the whole truth about the matter, and then asked
McGrath’s advice. He told him to take care of the mules and wagon
until the meeting broke up, and then take them to their owner, and
inquire of him why his negroes went off and left their mules and wagon
so long, and not return at all, and give him the trouble to bring them
home; and if any person attempted to whip him to make him tell anything
about the matter he was to run away, and on the next Sunday night to
meet him, McGrath, at a certain place and he would tell him what to do,
and to be sure and keep everything a profound secret.

MR. MOORE AFTER PREACHER M’GRATH, IN TEXAS.

With this understanding the meeting went on until the sixth day; the
meeting broke up; the negro geared up his mules to the wagon and rolled
off; drove them to the house of the owner and reported himself. It was
late in the night. The old gentleman told him to feed the mules, get
his supper and come to him in the morning and tell him more about it.
The next morning the boy told the old man that he did not know but one
of his negroes, and that was the fellow that asked him to feed and
water the mules a day or two, and on the third day the negro did not
return, and he asked the advice of one of the preachers, who told him
to take them home. The old man asked the boy where that preacher was,
and the negro said he was sick at a house about six miles from there.
He then asked the boy who he belonged to, and the negro showed him his
“pass,” which told the truth. He then dismissed the boy and sent him
home, and about ten o’clock, McGrath said, “here comes the old man.”
He rode up to the gate and hailed, and inquired if Brother McGrath was
there. They told him he was. He alighted from his horse, came into the
house and said good morning, very short. “Well, Brother McGrath, how do
you do?”

“Oh, I am very sick, Brother Moore.”

“What seems to be the matter?”

“Oh, I have caught a cold, and have a very severe pain in my side; I
think it is side pleurisy.”

“Well,” said he, “did you see anything of my negroes at your meeting?”

McGrath told him: “I saw them there the first day with you when we
went. After you left, Brother Moore, I don’t recollect seeing them,
and I thought you had ordered them home until I was asked by a strange
negro what he should do with the mules and wagon. When I examined them
I saw they were yours, and I told the negro to drive them to you and
report himself. I would have gone with him, but was too unwell and had
to stop here.”

“Well,” says the old man, “your great meeting has caused me to lose
seven negroes, I fear.”

McGrath said: “Oh, I hope not, Brother Moore.”

“Yes it has!” said he very short, “and I wish there never had been a
camp meeting in the world; and I know,” said he, “they are stolen,
and they went by water. Some of them picayune steamboat captains have
stolen them, and they are now in Florida or Georgia. I will go and
make some inquiry in Shreveport, and along the river, to find out what
boats left about that time, and,” said he, “I will go to the owner of
that negro that brought the wagon home and have him tied up and whipped
till he tells the truth about it, for I believe he knows all about the
matter.” McGrath said he tried to pacify the old gentleman, but it was
all no go, so the old gentleman left.

McGrath said the times then were beginning to be rather equally. He
pretended to improve very fast; was able to ride in two days, and set
out to help Brother Moore hunt and track his negroes. On the next
Sunday night he was at the place where he was to meet the negro, and
the negro was there also. McGrath told of the threats against him, and
asked him if he wished to run away and go with him, if he did he would
find him a good master, or take him to a free State. The negro said he
would go. McGrath asked him if he could steal a good horse, saddle and
bridle. The negro said he could. McGrath then asked him if he could get
over Red river and meet him at a certain place on a certain day. He
said he could, three or four days after.

McGrath then went to the house of Brother Moore to inquire if he had
got any tidings of, or from his negroes. The old man was very mad and
talked very short, and said “no,” adding: “Mr. McGrath, I want you to
leave my house, and never again set your foot in it.” McGrath tried
to reason with the old man, but all would not do, so he left. He had
collected among the brethren some five hundred dollars or upward and
a considerable sum from the negroes at the camp meeting. He then went
to Shreveport and procured some articles he wanted (and among them two
half gallon jugs, one full of brandy and the other of whiskey), some
bread and cheese, and crossed the river.

After he got across he saw three men come down to the ferry and wait
for the ferryman; he watched them; they conversed with the ferryman
awhile and rode back. McGrath rode on three or four miles, came to an
inn and stopped. It was not night, but he had come to the conclusion
now, that it was necessary for him to watch as well as pray. A
little after dark up rode three men, and inquired if a traveler had
passed that evening, and what time—how long before dark? They were
informed none had passed; one had put up, a little before dark.
They alighted and came in; enquired from McGrath his name, where he
was traveling, his occupation, etc. He told his name, and said he
was going to a quarterly meeting, some seventy-five miles from that
place. They listened to him with keen, shrewd looks and very doubting
air, and McGrath saw from their manœuvres that they were after him
in particular, and he well knew it would require his best skill and
ingenuity to evade their vigilance. They bid him good night and started
on. McGrath pretended to walk out carelessly and watch them; they
turned back.

He started next morning and traveled about thirty-five miles and
stopped for the night. Just before night, the same three men passed
the house. Next morning, after breakfast, he started again, and in a
few miles came to their camp. “Well,” said one, “we have met again.”
McGrath said “yes,” and asked them which way they were going. They
said to purchase beef cattle, and asked him how much further he was
going that route? He told them he was going to a missionary station to
see the preacher there; that it was about forty miles there, and he
wanted to get there that night. He bid them good morning, rode off, and
traveled slow until he got out of their sight, and then pushed and rode
about twelve miles. He came to a cross road that passed near where the
negro was; here he left the road in a direction opposite to where the
negro lay; tied his horse in a thicket some distance from the road,
and concealed himself to watch. The men soon came to the place and
examined for the track of his horse; they finally took the road which
the horse’s track had followed and pushed on. He went to where his
horse was, stripped him, held him to graze some cane, and took a little
of his good brandy; stripped his Methodist coat off and rolled up his
broad-brimmed beaver in it and tied them on his saddle; and put on a
common oiled cap, and another coat. Night came on; he saddled his horse
and rode through the woods, near the road, to the distance of about two
miles from where the negro was to meet him, and tied his horse about
two hundred yards from the road. After it was fully dark, he started on
the road on foot and left his horse, for the place appointed to meet
the negro; and his only fear then was that the negro might have been
bribed to betray him. He had two good single-barrelled pistols, and
would be certain to save two of his assailants and take chances with
the balance. He went on, got within a very short distance of the place
appointed, crept up very close and stopped to listen. All was still. He
discovered, a short distance from him, a large tree and a thick bunch
of bushes around it. He crept easily to that, and squatted down at the
root of the tree to listen. He thought he heard a stick crack or break
close to him. He then gave a low whistle like that of a bird; it was
answered immediately, within twenty feet of him. He then gave another,
which was as promptly answered. He then gave a slap of his hands, which
was answered, and the negro advanced to him. He asked the negro if
there was any person about, and where was his horse? The negro told him
about two hundred yards from there.

They started and went about half way, and McGrath stopped and told the
negro to go and bring his horse there. The negro went and brought his
horse. McGrath said he then became better satisfied that the negro was
no traitor, and told him to go with him to the road and ride about
thirty yards behind, until they got opposite where his horse was, which
he did. They were not long in getting there. When we got to the place,
he made a signal, and the negro rode up, and McGrath turned square
off from the road and told the negro to follow him. He went about one
hundred yards and told the negro to tie his horse and go back and watch
the road, until he saddled and brought his horse. When McGrath had
saddled his horse and returned, he found the negro at his horse, with
everything ready to mount and be off. He asked what was the matter?
“My God, master! we have had good luck; just as I went up close to the
road I heard horses’ feet, and hid in the bushes; I saw by starlight
three persons pass the road; two of them I could see had guns, and if
we had been ten minutes later we should have met them.” McGrath pulled
out his little jug of whiskey and gave the negro two drams and took one
himself; they mounted their horses and started. He instructed the negro
to travel about thirty yards behind in case of surprise, so as to make
his escape and save them both.

They traveled hard that night, and by daylight they had made near sixty
miles. At daylight they left the road and lay-by that day. It happened
that the negro had near a half bushel of corn, and some meat and bread,
and McGrath some bread and cheese, so they made out pretty well that
day. Night came on and they set out again, and traveled until near
day. They arrived close to a ferry on the Washita. Before getting
there, they left the road a short distance, and McGrath left the negro
with the horses and went towards the ferry. As he got near the ferry
house, which he intended to go round, some person hailed—“who is that?”
He turned his course and made back for the negro and horses. He had not
time to get away before they passed in pursuit, and he heard them say,
“that damned preacher is here somewhere, and we will have him yet.”
They halted a moment, and he heard their horses’ feet, some going back
and some the other way. McGrath mounted his horse and told the negro to
follow him, and he took to the woods and steered a west course, which
he knew was up the river, and traveled till he reached high land, and
continued after day until near twelve o’clock, sometimes in sight of
plantations, which he would go round.

By and by he came to a road that had the appearance of being much
traveled, and leading north. Here, some distance from the road, he
halted, stripped their horses and let them graze in a cane-brake, and
remained there till dark without anything to eat. At dark they started
and traveled ten or twelve miles, passed several houses, and came to
a house and passed down a hill into a lane, and at a short distance
came to high timber land, which he knew was near the river. He stopped
and left the negro with the two horses, giving him instructions if any
alarm was heard, to turn and run back to a little branch and stop till
he came. He went on to the river, and luckily there was no spy there,
and the ferry-flat was on his side. He hurried back, took his horse and
the negro and his horse, and got into the ferry-flat and went over.
They mounted their horses and traveled until daylight; passed several
houses and plantations. At daylight he found himself bordering on the
Mississippi swamp. He turned off the road and stripped their horses to
graze in a cane-brake.

Nothing to eat now for two nights and one day, with plenty of money,
but was afraid to go to a house, for fear of discovery.

He went to waylay the road, saw no person pass except emigrants, from
whom we obtained a little bread, some salt and a small piece of meat.
He inquired of them the road and distance to Vicksburg. They told him
from seventy-five to one hundred miles. He inquired if they had met any
person on horseback. They said no. He then left them and returned to
his negro and horses; found the negro had killed a large, fat possum,
and had it cleaned and was roasting it; the salt he had got then came
in play. They cooked and eat, drank their liquor, and rested that
day. A little before night McGrath went to the road to examine if any
horses’ tracks passing toward Vicksburg could be seen. There were none.
He returned and saddled his horses, and a little before sunset they
started and traveled all night, and until next day at ten o’clock.
They came to the Tensas Bayou, crossed at a ferry, and inquired of the
ferryman, who was a negro, how far it was to Vicksburg? The negro said
about thirty miles. McGrath then inquired if there were many settlers
on the bayou. The negro said there were plenty up and down the bayou
on both sides. They left the ferry and went on a few miles, and turned
to the west from the main road, up the bayou, along a new road that
carriages had traveled, and went about ten miles—passed several large
plantations. About twelve o’clock he came to the house of a small
farmer; his horses were very tired, and he asked if he could get his
horses fed and some dinner for himself and boy. The man told him to
alight; the horses were soon attended to, and dinner was soon prepared
and they eat.

McGrath then told the man he was from Mississippi; the negro he had
with him was all he had; that they were about to sell him for a
security debt; that he had to run him to save him; and that he had to
travel a long distance and was much fatigued, both himself and horses,
and that he would like to rest himself and horses a few days. This was
agreed to. He then told the landlord that he was fearful they might
follow him and that he did not wish to let many people know that he was
there. He also told him that he would like to sell his negro, if he
could get a good master for him, and that he would like to sell his two
horses and go home by water, by way of New Orleans, Mobile and up the
Tombigbee river. He also promised his landlord, if he would help him,
and effect a good sale of his negro and horse, that he would make him
a present of one hundred dollars, and that the negro might work in his
farm while they were looking around. This was also agreed to, and it
was concluded to rest the horses a week.

McGrath and the landlord (Mr. Chance was his name) rode up the bayou
to see a blacksmith that wanted to purchase a negro. They traveled
about thirty miles; saw the man and made a conditional trade with
him, to sell him the negro for thirteen hundred and fifty dollars, if
the negro could “blow and strike” in the shop, which the negro said
he could. They then returned to Chance’s, took the negro and the two
horses and returned to the blacksmith. He tried the negro one day and
said he was satisfied, and paid McGrath his money. The negro then told
his new master to buy the horse that he had ridden; there was no better
horse in the world. The master inquired the price; McGrath told him two
hundred dollars; but as he had bought the negro he might have the horse
for one hundred and seventy-five dollars. The blacksmith told him he
would have to borrow one hundred and twenty-five dollars, but he knew
where he could get it if they would wait until the next day; and he
thought he knew a man that would give two hundred dollars for McGrath’s
horse. They consented to wait, and sure enough the next morning quite
early the blacksmith returned with the money and a man with him, who
soon closed the trade with McGrath for his horse, and they paid him
the money for the two horses, saddles and bridles, three hundred and
seventy five dollars, making the whole sum seventeen hundred and
twenty-five dollars. McGrath gave the negro one hundred dollars as
a present, and asked him if he was satisfied. He said he was well
satisfied. McGrath and Mr. Chance they left for Chance’s residence,
which they reached that night.

M’GRATH IN DISGUISE.

On their way down McGrath made a bargain with Chance to carry him in
his little wagon to the ferry opposite Vicksburg, for fifteen dollars.
The next day he paid Chance one hundred and fifteen dollars; made the
landlady, Mrs. Chance, a present of ten dollars for her trouble; and
after dinner they started for Vicksburg landing. He told Chance he
wished to travel in disguise for fear he might be followed, and for
that purpose Chance procured for him a negro’s old jacket and trowsers,
and an old flapped hat and Chance’s old saddle bags; “and in this
garb,” said McGrath, “I landed on the other side of the river last
night and camped there with my friend Mr. Chance. We parted early this
morning, he for home, and I for this place; and here I am this 25th
day of January, 1841, and” said he, “I have kept a regular diary of my
travels ever since we parted on Red River, before the camp meeting,”
and he showed us his memorandum book.

Now, Wages, McGrath and I had all got together again. We had realized
over twenty-five thousand dollars by our hypocrisy, stealing, burning
and murdering. We advised McGrath to change his clothes and put on a
genteel suit, and procure a pair of green goggles, so as to disguise
himself, and we repaired each to our hotels. The next day McGrath came
out in a new suit, with his green goggles, and we should not have known
him ourselves, had we not been on the look out for him. He came to the
same hotel where I boarded. We advised McGrath to leave in the first
boat for St. Louis, where we were to meet him on a certain day; but
each of us was now to travel in separate boats. McGrath set out the
next day; two days after Wages left; and one day after that I took a
boat, and we all met at the time appointed. We remained in St. Louis a
few days, and changed our clothing to that of common laborers.

MURDER OF O’CONNOR ON THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.

We all took passage on a steamboat bound from St. Louis to Pittsburg;
landed at the mouth of the Wabash, and traveled up that river to the
town of ——, where we fell in with an old Irishman by the name of
O’Connor. He was a western trader, and had two large flat boats loaded
with flour, bulk pork, onions, potatoes, butter, some whiskey, and a
variety of other articles, to the amount of over five thousand dollars.

With him McGrath soon formed acquaintance, and came the “country”
over him. His brother Irishman, McGrath, represented to him that our
occupation was that of working flatboats; and that we had made many
trips from Missouri, Indiana, Illinois and Ohio. We were not long in
making a contract with him, to help him down with his boats. He had
contracted for one hundred barrels of whiskey, which he could have if
he could pay five hundred dollars. We advanced him some money and he
made the purchase and gave his note for the balance. We put the whiskey
on board the boats, and all things being ready we set off down the
river.

He employed two extra hands to help us down to the mouth of the river,
where he discharged them. We went on down, two hands on each boat,
until we passed the shoal at Smithland, the mouth of the Cumberland
river, when we lashed the two boats together and took our watches by
turns, two at a time. We floated all one day and part of a night, and
came to the mouth of the Ohio, between midnight and daylight.

It was the turn for Wages and I to take the watch that morning. Now,
on the Mississippi River, all we had to do was to keep the boats in
the middle of the stream, with a light on deck to guard against
steamboats. The old Irishman, the owner of the boats, went down into a
small cabin in one of the boats, which he had prepared for himself, and
laid down in his berth to sleep. He was much fatigued, but before he
went to sleep, Wages proposed to him to take a dram of stewed whiskey
punch, hot, which he knew to be a favorite beverage with the Irish.
The old man consented, and Wages went to work to prepare it. We being
on the alert for any and everything, had the opium ready, and gave
his bowl a full charge. He drank it down and praised it as very nice,
and retired. We then prepared some punch for ourselves and drank it.
We then went to an opposite end of the boats and held a consultation,
as to who was to make way with the old man, and it fell to my lot to
strike the fatal blow!

Oh, God! when I look back, it makes me shudder. Even now it chills the
blood in my veins.

It was understood that the deed was to be committed at sunrise,
precisely, provided there were no boats of any kind near. By the
time we had accomplished our consultation, daylight was making its
appearance in the east, and I cannot here describe my feelings. Wages
and McGrath discovered my embarrassment, and resorted to another
potion of hot whiskey punch, which I drank freely. After I had drank,
I went into the old man’s cabin, armed with a small hatchet or lathing
axe. The old man was fast asleep, lying on his back; I went up on
deck and looked to the east, and saw that the sun was just making his
appearance; I returned to the little cabin, raised the hatchet and
struck the fatal blow in the centre of the forehead, a little above the
eyes. It made a full dent in the skull the size of the hammer of the
axe. He uttered a kind of suppressed and strangled shriek and in a very
few minutes O’Connor was numbered among the dead.

Now the next business was to dispose of him. This, however did not take
us long, for we had some old cast iron grates, that had belonged to a
steamboat and which we used to set our cooking pots on. We took two of
them and lashed them well together, stripped off his clothing and left
his body naked, and tied a strong rope around his neck, and attached
that to the cast iron grates.

And oh! the awful scene that ensued! To see a fellow-being who had
been one of us so recently; to see his body cast to oblivion, and his
soul, then departed, to that “bourne from whence no traveler returns.”
Well, or not well it was, I may say. Poor old O’Connor went down with
about three hundred pounds of iron attached to him—a little below Wolf
Island, not far from Mills’ Point.

We very soon passed New Madrid. On our way down the Mississippi we had
several calls of “What boat is that?” “Where are you from?” to which we
replied the “Non Such,” and “Red Rover,” from “Independence, Mo.”

Our next business was to dispose of his clothing, his papers, and to so
disfigure the boats that they could not be identified. So we took the
same “hatchet,” and rubbed off “Non Such” and “Red Rover,” and wrote
in their place “Tip,” and “Tyler,” which in those days took well. Thus
rigged out, we glided on gently and steadily; we had nothing to fear;
we had two flatboats, and they well loaded with produce, worth over
five thousand dollars.

To dispose of the boats and cargo was our next business, we well
knowing that other boats would be down from the same river inquiring
for O’Connor’s boats. We therefore lost no time. We never stopped till
we came to the mouth of Red river, where we halted and warped into the
mouth and tied up. McGrath mounted his green goggles, blacked his hair
and face, so that I could not have known him, only that I was with
him. Wages took one of our skiffs and went to Tunica, where he took a
steamboat down to Welter’s. In a few days he and Welter returned, and
we were not long in closing a trade with him. He gave us four thousand
five hundred dollars in his note payable the Fourth of July ensuing for
our boats and cargo. One boat was sent down the Atchafalya bayou, and
the other down the Mississippi to his residence.

Wages and Welter returned to Welter’s, and McGrath and I remained to
take care of the boats. A day or two after Welter sent four of his
“strikers” to take charge of the boats; and after dividing the cargoes,
one of them left down the river for Welter’s with two of his men on
board. We remained on the other until we got an opportunity to have it
towed into the Atchafalya bayou, and we then made the best of our way
down the river to Welter’s, where we again joined Wages.

We there held a full consultation, and concluded to return to the
vicinity of Mobile, lie still for a while, collect and gather up our
money and secure it all at one place, where it could be easily got if
we should stand in need of it at any time. This brought about the last
of May, 1843. We went up to Natchez, landed there, and steered our
course through the country by Liberty, Holmesville, Columbia, and on to
Allen Brown’s, on Red creek, in the southwest corner of Perry county,
Miss., where Wages and I rested until about the last of June, when we
started on foot and walked to Pass Christian.

There we took a steamboat to New Orleans; from there up the Mississippi
to our old friend Welter’s to fulfill our engagement with Harden on
the Fourth of July. We arrived there on the 2d of July, at night.
Harden had been there some day or two before us, dodging about rather
concealed.

McGrath was either sick, or so feigned himself. We left him at Brown’s,
and in the neighborhood. Wages and I often talked about the matter, and
we came to the conclusion that he was fearful of meeting some of his
brother Methodists on some of the steamboats, and had concluded to keep
out of the way. So Wages, Harden and I had a full conference relative
to our future course of operations, and came to a final conclusion, and
each made a short memorandum in his “diary” in our mystic characters on
the evening of the 3d of July.

On the morning of the fourth, Welter informed us that he and his
family had an invitation to partake of a “public dinner and ball,” and
that he would like to invite us, but was afraid of the enquiries that
would be made, of “who we were,” “where we were from,” and “what was
our occupation,” &c. He said, “there have been some enquiries about
boat loads of produce, and where I purchased so many negroes, and I
think we had better be more cautious for some time to come.” He told us
that he would furnish us a good dinner at his house and plenty of wine
and liquors of the best, and we might enjoy ourselves until he returned
next day. We accordingly lived well that day and night. The old
gentleman returned with his family next day, about ten in the forenoon,
and as he said, much fatigued.

“Now, gentlemen,” said he, “the fourth of July is over; we will to
business, if you are ready;” to which we replied, “we were like
old souse, always ready!” “Now, your money is ready for you in New
Orleans,” says Welter, “and I will go down on the first boat that
passes. You must all take separate boats; for,” said he, “the times are
squally in this region; the papers are full of rewards for those seven
negroes, and there is also a reward for three men, who are supposed to
have killed a flatboat man by the name of O’Connor; and if you three
travel together you will be sure to be arrested; I will go first and
have your money ready. Disguise yourselves as much as possible, and
meet me in our rendezvous in four nights after to-night; and tell me
what kind of money you want.”

Harden told him “Tennessee bank notes would suit him;” Wages and I told
him either Mobile Bank or Bank of Louisiana would do us.

Just at this moment his waiter came to tell him there was a boat in
sight. He left immediately for the city. I tied up my head, rubbed some
ink around one eye, and put a green silk patch over it, and took a
boat the same evening; Harden the next morning; and Wages the evening
after. We had our appointed boarding house, where we eat and slept in
a private room, where no person but our landlord ever saw us.

At the appointed time Welter met us, and paid us our money. Harden his
one thousand dollars and Wages and myself eight hundred dollars in
Mobile and New Orleans money. After paying us all, he said: “Now, young
men, let me advise you a little. You have done a storming business in
your line. You have met with extreme success in everything you have
undertaken, and I do assure you that the glass pitcher, in going to the
fountain too often, will come back broken eventually; now let me advise
you each to return to your homes and friends, collect and realise all
your money and exchange it into gold or silver coin, and have it ready
for any emergency; keep yourselves secluded as much as possible from
the criticisms of the community in which you reside, and the time
will wear around when you may turn loose again; but rest assured that
I shall have to withdraw all connection with you for the present; my
property is ample for the support of myself and family now, and a
liberal division among them after I am dead; I wish you well, and hope
you will act prudently for the future and not run too great risks.” So
saying he gave us each a hearty shake of the hand, and bid us a final
adieu. This was our last interview with Welter. Since then we have not
seen or heard from him.

Our understanding with Harden was that he was to return to the vicinity
of Mobile in the fall or early in the winter. The next morning early
Harden, Wages and I paid our landlord and left; Harden up the river
to Tennessee, and Wages and I went to the New Basin, took passage
on a wood freighting schooner to the Bay of St. Louis, and up Wolf
river to a landing in the piney woods. We had provided ourselves with
some biscuit, cheese and meat. We landed and walked to Allen Brown’s
again, where we landed the second night, very tired. McGrath, when we
returned, was over on Black creek at Daniel Smith’s, hard up courting
his daughter, Mary Smith, whom he married the next June following.
He soon got the word that Wages and I had returned, and came over to
Brown’s.

Now we were all easy, with plenty of time to feast and frolic. We soon
sent off to Pass Christian for flour, sugar, coffee, and whiskey, too,
tobacco, cigars, and other little nicknacks. We first tried our hand
at hunting deer and fishing in Red creek, and did kill a few deer and
caught some fish, but we found that too fatiguing in that hot season,
and we resorted to other means to procure our fresh meat. And the
way we slung old Bill Griffin’s fine fat heifers and yearlings was a
caution. Their meat was very fat and remarkably fine flavored.

We remained at Brown’s and in the vicinity until after the middle of
August, and I don’t believe that old Brown and his family had ever
lived so well in his or their lives before. It was then that Wages
commenced courting old Brown’s daughter, whom he afterward married;
and it was then that Brown made the proposition to Wages to go into
the “counterfeiting business;” and I am here compelled to say that the
association of Allen Brown with us was the main cause of our exposure,
the death of Wages and McGrath, and the annihilation of our clan, and
the prime cause of my fate.

Well, we rusticated at Brown’s our time out, and all of us were fully
satiated to our heart’s content, and now the time had arrived for us to
leave for our places near Mobile. A small consultation as to the way of
our departure was necessary, and as McGrath was a member of the church,
and had made frequent visits to Brother Smith’s and Brother Bounds,
he could go publicly any way, and was to go by way of the back Bay of
Biloxi to visit the brethren about Evans’, while Wages and I prepared
ourselves with three days provisions, and started one moonlight
night—Brown with us, and two of his horses. He went with us about
thirty miles that night, and left us in the morning and returned home.
We lay-by that day near the road, and started a little before sunset
and crossed Pascagoula at Fairley’s ferry before daylight next morning.
We were then on our own native hills. We again laid by. The next night
we crossed Dog river at Ward’s bridge, and reached home early in the
morning. McGrath arrived about ten days after us. Our first business
was, after resting awhile, to gather all our money and have a correct
settlement and distribution of our funds.

Now it was honor among thieves! I disgorged all into the hands of
Wages; he said to McGrath that he knew I had given up all. “Now,
McGrath,” said Wages, “shell out.” So McGrath did turn out the
seventeen hundred and twenty-five dollars. Wages said to him “where is
that gospel money?” to which McGrath replied that the amount was small,
and that he thought he ought to retain that for pocket and spending
money. Wages then came out upon him in plain terms, and said: “McGrath,
you came in with us upon equal terms, and if you wish to bulk or fly
back, take your seventeen hundred dollars and leave, but look out for
the consequences!” McGrath soon forked over about thirteen hundred
dollars more. We had, when properly estimated, thirty-one thousand
eight hundred and seventy-five dollars. This money was in joint stock
between us three, and a proper appropriation and distribution of that
sum was what we had next to look to.

“Now,” said Wages, “boys, we have this amount of money, part in
possession, and the balance at command. Let us devise some plan to
save it; this, however, you may reflect upon. Our next business is to
get the whole in possession; when we have done that, our next business
is to make the proper disposition of it. So now we have buried at one
place four thousand five hundred dollars, and our deposits in bank in
New Orleans six thousand six hundred and seventy-five dollars, and
what we now have makes our account tally; our next business is to get
it altogether. When we have done that we must reflect well; and,” said
Wages to me, “James, I would rather that you and McGrath would lie down
and sleep until I have all that matter accomplished, for I am fearful
of your youthful imprudence, and McGrath’s imprudent Irish brogue to
go in blind right or wrong, and always come out at the little end of
the horn, as they did at Vinegar Hill, or as Mitchell, Meagher and
others did in their recent effort in Ireland to obtain their liberty.”
I then proposed to McGrath to give Wages the whole and sole control, to
which he finally consented, though, I discovered, with some reluctance.

“Now, boys,” said Wages, “I wish you to consider yourselves upon the
world until I return; and I enjoin on you not to commit any unlawful
act during the time it may take to realize and gather together our
money. For the certainty and uncertainty of life we cannot account; we
will therefore deposit what money we have.” So we did—in the ground—and
each took fifty dollars for pocket money.

As the whole matter was now understood, McGrath returned to the back
Bay of Biloxi, to preaching and stealing, and I remained in the
vicinity of Mobile, pretending to burn and sell charcoal; but in fact
stealing and feeding a parcel of our loafing and starving clan in
Mobile, such as G. Cleveland, and some others of less importance that
I could name, but whose names are not worth the pen, ink and paper it
would take to write them.

But I will now tell you all about this man G. Cleveland, so far as I
know him. When Wages, McGrath and I were in St. Louis, we fell in with
this fellow Cleveland. We had seen him before in Cincinnati, but not
to form an acquaintance. In St. Louis he was all the time around us—he
may have smelt us out. He was then selling spurious money of “New York
North River Bank, Schommerhorn, president,” and several other banks
of this same stripe. He traveled then in considerable style, with two
large leather trunks, and they mostly packed with this spurious money.
His portmanteau contained a great variety of “dickeys” and “collars,”
and his natural appearance and address always imposed upon a person
unacquainted with him. Wages then advised me not to have anything to
do with him, as he was a dangerous tool; and he so advised me until
the day of his death, but not taking Wages’ advice, Cleveland and his
concern got out of me some three hundred dollars, with a faithful
promise that I should be defended and protected; that jail doors,
grates or bars should not hold me; but that they and their friends
would burst asunder everything for me. Now see where his pledge falls.
He and his whole concern will not flourish long. I have to suffer death
solely for the want of a proper effort being made by them. I now leave
Cleveland and the others to the mercy of their own conscience and the
censure of the world.

Now to our affairs. Wages had returned to New Orleans, with all our
money, and had purchased five barrels of whiskey, in one of which he
had placed all the money. He had procured the whole of it in gold,
and made a long, slim canvass bag, which he could pass through the
bung-hole of the barrel, and in this bag he had placed his gold,
mostly sovereigns, and five and ten dollar pieces of American coin.
After placing the money in the barrel he put in the bung tight, and
nailed on the tin; shipped it as an ordinary barrel of whiskey, and
hauled it out to one of our camps, where we opened it, and took out
the gold. We had on hand a considerable amount of bank notes of New
Orleans and Mobile Banks. We then agreed that Wages should take it all,
and exchange it for gold, under pretense of entering land for some
company in Mississippi. Wages took his little two-horse wagon, loaded
with pickets, and went to Mobile. The first trip he brought home near
eight thousand dollars in gold, which was deposited with the rest. I
then proposed to Wages and McGrath to make the amount in gold, thirty
thousand dollars even, and bury it in some safe place, secure, so
that we might have it for any emergency; and in case of the death of
one of us, the other two were to share it; and if two died, one had
all. So the next trip Wages made to Mobile, he brought the balance to
make up the amount. We had three strong kegs made in Mobile, well
iron-hooped, and we placed in each ten thousand dollars; filled all the
crevices with clean, white sand, headed the kegs up, gave them three
coats of paint, and after they were thoroughly dry, we buried them in
a thick swamp on Hamilton’s Creek. The balance of our money we then
divided between us equally, which gave each share about six hundred and
twenty-five dollars.

To accomplish our settlement of affairs, brought about the middle of
November, 1843. McGrath left for the back Bay of Biloxi, and I saw
nothing more of him until after his marriage.

About two weeks after, Harden arrived at Wages’ riding a very fine
horse, and had with him a likely mulatto fellow, riding on a very fine
horse also, both of which he told me he sold to a man by the name of
Jenkins. The first object to be effected was to kill and rob old man
Sumrall. Mr. Newton was to turn preacher and go to Mr. Sumrall’s house,
and by some means effect the object; but by some misstep his intention
was discovered through one of the house servants, the alarm was given,
and brother Newton was ordered to leave brother Sumrall’s premises.
Wages and I lay in ambush, and had our appointed places to meet. We
soon learned the result of Harden’s adventure at Sumrall’s. I returned
to Mobile, Harden went to Louisiana, and Wages, by Jasper county, to
Mobile. We were all to meet again about the last of February, on Black
Creek, at the Pearlington road. We did meet, and a very few days after
old Robert Lott was killed and all his money taken. This was sometime
early in March, 1844. Wages was with Harden that night, and helped; I
did not happen there. I met Wages next morning, at our camp, and he
told me what was done, and turned me back. Harden and Wages had divided
a little over two thousand dollars. Harden left a few nights after for
the Mississippi swamp in Louisiana, and Wages and I for Mobile, and
traveled altogether in the night, to avoid discovery.

MEETING OF THE CLAN IN MOBILE, ALABAMA.

After we got to Mobile and had rested ourselves, there were several
complaints made to Wages and I, about the derangement of the affairs
of the clan. They had, during our absence, elected a president _pro
tem._ Wages went round and called a meeting at the Wigwam. There was a
crowded meeting, but they were mostly new members, who were very noisy.
Wages then told them the object of the meeting; that it was to inquire
into the situation of the clan; that his long absence had prevented
him from attending any meeting for over two years; it was necessary
to inquire into the affairs, and a system of action must be preserved
in all institutions. Some of the new members were very clamorous and
wanted to make a break and a raise at something; they had no money and
must have some, and all such stuff. Wages then reminded them that we
had a Vigilant Committee, who at all times had the control and power to
report, and upon their report the clan would act. He also reminded them
of their obligation and the terms upon which they came into the clan,
and for any breach or exposure their life would pay the forfeit. He
then announced to the meeting that he would hold an adjourned meeting
that night two weeks, for the purpose of having the minutes made up,
and a full report from the Vigilant Committee; but, before the time
arrived, Wages was informed that four of these members had come in as
spies, and that we had traitors in the ranks. He then advised me of the
fact, and we agreed to withdraw. We never visited the Wigwam again; but
we formed a new and select one among a few of us, and among the new
clan were four of my brothers—Isham, nicknamed Whin, Henry, John and
Thomas Copeland, Jefferson Baker and Joshua Walters, all men of bravery.

Our next business was to dispose of all spies and traitors, and it was
not long before four of them butted their heads against a slung-shot
hung to a man’s arm, and they went floating from Mobile wharf down the
channel of the river. Old Palmer, one of our clan, near Springhill,
met up with my brother Whin and I: he had made some exposures of our
affairs. Our two rifles made clear fire, and we left him in a situation
where he told no more tales. Sometime after, Tom Powell, another of the
clan, made some threats that he intended to drive the Copelands out of
the country. McGrath and I waylaid him and fed him with the contents
of two double-barrel shot-guns, about forty-eight buck-shot, and put
him in a swamp near Eslaya’s old mill. Another of the clan, Jim Harper,
attempted to betray us by decoying us into the hands of some of our
enemies; Wages, McGrath and I managed to catch him. We took him into an
old house near the old Stage Stand. We then put a rope around his neck,
and we very soon squeezed the breath out of him. We stripped off his
clothes, and left him in the old house, a prey to the buzzards; took
all the clothes some distance off and piled lightwood knots on them,
and burnt them.

Sometime after McGrath was married, Wages went over into Mississippi,
about old Brown’s, and sometimes down about Honey Island, near
Gainesville, and remained there from the summer of 1843 until the fall
of 1844, during which time I had seen him but twice, when he came over
to his father’s on a visit, in the fall of 1844. Wages and McGrath came
over to the vicinity of Mobile and sent for me, and then informed me of
the plan they were about to pursue. That they were going to commence
making counterfeit money: that they had procured a man who could
engrave their dies, and another who was a professed chemist and could
prepare the metal so well that it would take a very acute judge to
detect it. I told Wages that whatever he went at I was in; “but,” said
I, “I feel somewhat fearful.” “Oh,” said they, “we have made a large
acquisition to our clan, we now have Jim McArthur, Jack McArthur, Allen
Brown, Daniel Brown, Jim Bilbo and Wash Bilbo. We are to settle McGrath
at Honey Island; Wages at Catahoula; Allen Brown at Red Breek, and
the Bilbos and McArthurs are to range from Pearl River to Pascagoula;
and,” said they, “your party can range from Mobile to Pascagoula, and
you can pass horses or negroes from Georgia to Florida on this route
through to Louisiana, without discovery, and so from Louisiana in the
same way.” I then told Wages and McGrath both, that I was still afraid
of their new acquisition. I then proposed to them to remove our money
from Hamilton’s Creek, and place it somewhere near where Wages was
going to settle. I made this proposition because I believed that this
counterfeiting business would be the means of getting us into trouble,
and that we could procure our money more easily from that vicinity than
we could where it was.

I had then arrived at the age of majority and began to have a more
reflecting mind, and I never did have any reliance or confidence in
that money arrangement. Wages then informed me that he was engaged to
marry Allen Brown’s daughter, but did not know what time; it might be
a year before he did so. “McGrath,” said he, “is now married, and will
move to Honey Island shortly; I shall be engaged in preparing our shop
and arranging the materials, and making preparations for the settlement
of my home.”

They then told me that Niel McIntosh, would also be one of our clan,
and that he would travel to and from Mobile to our other places, as
a spy, and look out for us. They left the next day for Mississippi,
and I saw nothing more of either of them for over twelve months. Niel
McIntosh made several trips over and back, and always had plenty of
their money, but I was always afraid of it. He passed a considerable
amount in the vicinity of Mobile, and made something by it.

John Harden brought three or four fine horses, one, he said, from
Florida and the others from Georgia; I advanced him the money and
passed them on to Wages, who sold them for me. S. Harden made two
trips to the vicinity of Mobile that year, one from North Alabama, and
one from western North Carolina: The first trip he brought two good
horses and a likely negro boy. I assisted him to sell the horses near
Fort Stoddart, for a fine price, to some men going to Texas. I then
furnished him two ponies and sent McIntosh to pilot him through to
Wages, who paid him for his negro and sent him to Pearlington, where he
again embarked for Tennessee, by way of New Orleans.

About four months afterwards Harden returned again. He had two splendid
horses, fine traveling equipage, and a likely mulatto girl about
sixteen years old, dressed in boys clothes, traveling with him as his
waiter. He said he had traveled through Georgia and Eastern Alabama
to Blakely, and crossed the Bay over to Mobile, and came out to our
place. He told us he feared no pursuit; that he had traveled too far,
that there was no danger. I assisted him in selling the two horses, in
Mobile, and saw them often afterwards. They were fine buggy horses. The
girl he sold to a man in Mobile, who kept her as a wife, and she now
passes for free. He had stolen her from a rich old widow lady in North
Carolina, who had sent the girl on an errand, on a Saturday morning,
some twenty-five miles on the same fine horse, to return on Sunday
evening, and she never did return.

In these two trips of Harden’s he gave me five hundred dollars for
my assistance. I then assisted him to steal a very fine horse on the
Tombigbee River, for which he gave me fifty dollars more, and left for
Tennessee. This had pretty well consumed the fall of 1845.

In December, Wages came home to his father’s; sent for me; told me that
he was going to get married shortly, and invited me to his wedding; I
promised him I would go if my business did not prevent me; but it so
turned out that he did marry a short time after, and I was not present.
After his marriage, he brought his wife to see his father and mother,
and spent some weeks with them. He had with him plenty of counterfeit
coin, and wanted me to take some and pass for him. That I refused to
do, and I then advised him that it would be better for us all to let
that alone; and then reminded him that when there was none but him,
McGrath and I together, that we could get along to better advantage,
do a more profitable business and had a wider field to operate in. But
he seemed to think that they could manage to get along; and I found
from his conversation that old Allen Brown had got control of him, and
I said no more on the subject. I told him frankly that their money I
would have nothing to do with; but in other matters of stealing and
selling horses, negroes and cattle, I would take a hand as heretofore,
to which he assented, and here we dropped the subject for the present.
I again urged upon him the removal of our money. I dreaded an outbreak,
for I then believed that old Brown would blow the whole matter; and
sure enough he afterwards did.

So Wages and his wife left, and went back to Mississippi, to old Brown,
and he went to work building his house on Catahoula, in Hancock County.
He got it completed; moved into it; took his horse; came again to
Mobile; procured his father’s two horse wagon to haul some articles
for house-keeping from Mobile, and on his way back I went with him,
the first night, and we camped near where our money was buried. We
went and got the three kegs; placed them in the bottom of his wagon,
covered them with hay and placed the balance of his load on them. He
hauled them out to Hancock county, and deposited them in Catahoula
Swamp, about a mile and a half or two miles from his house, and
designated the place by a large pine tree that grew at the margin of
the swamp, to the north-east, and about thirty-five yards from where
the kegs were deposited, and a magnolia tree that grew about ten yards
to the south-west. He gave me a diagram of the place, the courses,
and distances which he had measured accurately, marked in lines and
explained in our mystic key. That paper I somehow lost in the famous
Harvey battle.

So it was Wages left and went to his place. Now he and his crowd were
for themselves, and me and my crowd for ourselves. My crowd consisted
of myself, and four brothers, Josh Walters, Jef. Baker and old
McIntosh, our outside striker, to run stolen horses or a negro, when
required. Our range was from Mobile to Pascagoula, and from the Sea
Coast to St. Stephen’s. We fed ourselves and families upon pork, beef
and mutton, in abundance, and we sold enough in the market to pay us
from fifty to one hundred dollars per month—sometimes ready butchered
and sometimes on foot, during the summer and fall season. Those we
sold the meat of, we generally stole in the vicinity of Mobile. Old
man Wages had a farm on Big Creek Swamp, about twenty-five miles from
Mobile, in rather an obscure place. That was our place of resort and
deposit, and many a stolen beef and horse has been concealed there
until we could dispose of them.

We continued that business during 1845, 1846, and until the summer
of 1847. We had stolen a small drove of cattle out near Chickasahay,
and in driving them we gathered a few head near Mobile, belonging to
old Moses Copeland. We sold the cattle to Bedo Baptiste, who paid my
brother Henry and I for them. We claimed them; Whinn, or Isham and John
helped to drive, but received none of the money. My brothers Henry and
John, and Isham or Whinn, were arrested and tried. Henry was convicted
of the larceny and served two years in the penitentiary of Alabama.
Whinn and John were acquitted; I took to the bushes. They did not catch
me that hunt, and I lay in the woods and was concealed among my clan
the balance of that summer, most of the time at old Wages’, on Big
Creek, waiting for Gale Wages to come so as to make a settlement with
him, and to close my business and leave the country.

The time passed on slowly. I stopped all further operations until I
could hear from Wages and McGrath, and, lo! some time late in the fall
up rolled Wages and old Brown, and sure enough old Brown, as I had
anticipated and expected, had blown the whole concern. He had gone into
the little town of Gainesville and passed a few dollars of their money
for some small articles of trade, where the old fool might have known
he would be detected; and sure enough he was. Now the next step was
for him to get out of the difficulty, and when asked where he got the
money, he said “from Bilbos.” They were arrested and brought up, and he
swore it on to them, and they had to give bail to answer the charge of
passing counterfeit money.

Bilbos then swore vengeance against Brown and Wages, who had pulled
up stakes and were leaving Hancock county, and Mississippi, too. The
Bilbos pursued them, and passed them some way; turned back, and the
parties met suddenly on a small hill. While one party ascended on one
side the other party ascended on the other side, and both parties were
within a few paces of each other at first view. Wages had the advantage
of them; he had his double barrel gun well loaded and fresh caps on;
Bilbos had their rifles well loaded and fresh primed, but they had a
rag over the powder in the pan to keep it dry. These rags they had to
remove before they could fire. Wages immediately fired and killed one
of them dead, and then fired at the other before he could get ready to
shoot and broke his thigh. From some cause Bilbo’s horse got scared and
threw him to the ground, and he immediately begged for his life. At
first sight of the Bilbos old Brown ran, so Wages said.

Now it was that Wages and Brown both had to make their escape the best
way they could. They came to Mobile, and there they were on the scout,
as well as myself. McGrath was so well identified with them that he was
watched very closely about Gainesville. He got into some corn stealing
scrape, and broke into Hancock jail, and nothing but the gold or silver
key ever turned him out. He and Wages happened to have a little of
that, and he and his wife then left Honey Island, and were at Daniel
Smith’s, on Black creek, in Perry county. So it was Brown and Wages
managed to get their families, and McGrath and his wife back into the
vicinity of Mobile some time in November, 1847.

Wages and McGrath had very near got through with all their money.
McGrath, in particular, had none, only as he borrowed. Wages had some,
but had spent a large amount in feeding and clothing old Brown and his
gang. Wages and his wife remained on Big creek at the old man’s place,
and I the greater part of the time with him. Brown and McGrath moved
down on Dog river, near Stage Stand, pretending to burn coal and cut
wood to sell, but they were in fact stealing, for they had nothing
to eat and but little money. Brown had sold his possessions in Perry
county to Harvey, and had received all his pay but forty dollars. He
had represented his land to be saved or entered land, when it was
public land, and Harvey refused to pay the forty dollar note, and that
same pitiful note, and Brown’s rascality and falsehood cost Wages and
McGrath their lives, and Harvey and Pool their lives, and have placed
me where I am.

Wages and I while on Big creek held a consultation as to our future
course. Wages then sorely repented any connection that he ever had
with old Brown, “and,” said he, “I intend to get away from him, for
I am fearful the old fool will get drunk and tell everything he does
know.” We then concluded our best way was for Wages to take his horse
and cart, take old Niel McIntosh with him, and his wife and child,
and start west and travel in the vicinity of Pearl river; there leave
his wife; take the cart and horse and he and McIntosh to travel down
Pearl river till they came opposite Catahoula; then turn in and get
our money, and cross the Mississippi river; send McIntosh back to let
McGrath and I know where to find him, and for us to slip off and go
slyly, and not let Brown know where we were going, “and,” said Wages,
“if I can manage to rob old Tom Sumrall on my route and make a raise,
so much the better. And you and your crowd may manage to make a raise
here before you leave.”

BURNING OF ELI MAFFITT’S HOUSE, AND ATTEMPTED MURDER OF HIS WIFE.

The same day Wages and I were consulting thus, my brother John Copeland
came to bring me some clothes, and he informed me that it was reported
that old Eli Maffitt held a large amount of money, and that there
was a project on foot to rob him and burn his house the first good
opportunity; that Maffitt had taken a contract to build a bridge in
Perry county, and would shortly leave home, and that Eli Myrick was to
let the party know what time Maffitt commenced the bridge and would be
absent from home. I then told Wages what was on foot. He then said “let
me leave home about three days before, and I will try on the some night
to rob old Sumrall and burn his house.” In a few days Myrick came down
and told us that Maffitt was up in Perry county, and would not be home
in two weeks. Wages immediately geared up, and started with his cart,
his wife and McIntosh. Three nights after that Allen Brown, McGrath,
John Copeland and I went to Maffitt’s just after dark, about seven
o’clock, on the night of the 15th of December, 1847. Eli Myrick did not
go with us, because he said Mrs. Maffitt would know him too well, but
he was in the secret and shared his part of the money.

On getting near, we stopped to consult as to the safest way to get the
money. Some were for robbing the house and not injuring any of the
family. That I opposed, for I never believed in leaving any living
witness behind to tell what I had done, if there was any way to prevent
it. I always thought that two persons were enough to keep a secret,
and it was safest if one of them were dead, for dead witnesses give no
evidence. It was agreed that we should go into the house and demand the
money, and if given up, to leave the inmates peaceably and unharmed.

John and I went in with a very stern look, thinking we could frighten
the old lady, and make her give up every dollar that was in the
house. But we were as sternly and peremptorily refused. The old lady
said that she knew nothing about the money, and if she did, that we
would not get it; we then told her that we had come after money and
that money we would have before we left that house, or her life; and
she still bravely defied us. John Copeland had in his hand a large
hickory stick and I had another. Perceiving that she was determined,
and our only chance to get the money was to kill her, while the old
lady and I were quarreling about the money, I gave my brother John the
wink, and he struck her a blow on the head which felled her to the
floor. He repeated the blows, and I hit her several blows. We were
then certain that we had killed her. We then commenced plundering the
house, in search of the money; and we ransacked the whole house from
top to bottom, but the amount we did find was small. I do not remember
the precise amount we got, but it did not exceed two hundred dollars,
and to our great displeasure we afterwards found out, that there was a
large amount of gold and silver in the house at the time, that we did
not find.

After we had plundered the house to our satisfaction, of all the money
we could find, and each one of us had his load of the most valuable
articles about, we set the house on fire and burnt everything up,
together as we thought with Mrs. Maffitt who we thought was dead, and
we left with a full conviction in our own minds that she would be burnt
in the house. When I afterwards learned that she was not dead, I often
wondered at her providential escape.

The gold and silver we had overlooked, was all melted, and I understood
that Maffitt afterwards took it to Mobile and disposed of it.

Wages, in his adventure, was not so successful as we were. On the
same night, he and McIntosh camped near Tallahala, not far from old
Sumrall’s and in the vicinity of Bryant Barlow’s. Barlow happened to
pass their camp early in the night and discovered Wages. He raised
a company and got after Wages, themselves and dogs, and Wages had
to leave and take the woods for home again. McIntosh and Wages’ wife
turned back for Mobile on the Big Creek place, where they all landed
about five days after. There we were all in the vicinity of Mobile
again; Wages had made a water haul and we had done worse. Wages was
laying out, Brown and myself were in the same situation. It became
necessary for Wages, McGrath and I to hold a private consultation,
relative to our future operations, and to devise some plan to get rid
of old Brown. We could see no way to do that, unless it would be to lie
to him and frighten him to leave, which we did. Our next plan was to
manage to get our money from Catahoula, and deposit it about the Bay of
St. Louis, near the sea coast, where we could get it on a boat. Wages
and McGrath were to attend to that matter, and I was to assist Brown
over the Mississippi. So Wages went to Brown and told him that there
was a reward for both of them, and said he, “I am going to leave, and
you had better do the same, for Maffitt has a crowd now on the look out
for us.” Brown had but little money. He then enjoined it upon Wages
to take Harvey’s note and give him the money for it. Said he, “if he
won’t pay the note you and McGrath kill the d——d rascal.” So saying,
Wages gave him the money for the note, and loaned him sixty dollars
more, and then told Brown that James Copeland would go with him and
assist his family to travel, while he, Brown, could dodge before and
behind. So the matter was understood, and in a few nights Brown rolled
off and crossed Dog River at Ward’s bridge, where Wages, McGrath and
I joined him; I took charge of the teams and family, and Brown took
his rifle and to the woods, mostly in the daytime. We did not want for
fresh meat; Wages and McGrath left for Catahoula by way of Harvey’s,
and crossed at Fairley’s; we crossed at Robert’s and old Green court
house, and up Black Creek, on by Columbia, Holmesville and so on to the
mouth of Red River. After crossing the Mississippi, I loaned old Brown
twenty-five dollars more, bid him good-by and returned to the vicinity
of Mobile. I was gone over four weeks.

WAGES AND M’GRATH KILLED BY HARVEY.

On my way back I learned at Black Creek, of the death of Wages and
McGrath. They had got into some difficulty with Harvey about the forty
dollar note, and he shot and killed them both. This news sounded in my
ears like thunder; and so astounded was I that I lost for the time all
my senses. However, after a little reflection, I began to think over
my situation, and a thousand thoughts hurled through my brain. Almost
instantly, it seemed that every crime I had ever committed in my life
was then pictured before my eyes and the awful consequences attending
them. The object, for which I committed them, was money; and it was
now doubtful whether I should ever obtain that, or not. Upon further
reflection, I recollected that Wages had given me a diagram or map of
the place where our, now my money was hidden, and a direction of the
course so that I certainly could find it. Stimulated with the idea of
being worth thirty thousand dollars, I began to cheer up and returned
home.

REWARD OF ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS OFFERED FOR HARVEY’S SCALP.

The first thing was to procure my map or diagram, which I did. I found
all my friends grieving. The first word asked me by old man Wages and
the old lady was: “What are you going to do, James? Are you not going
to seek vengeance on that Harvey?” Both then said to me, “James we will
give you one thousand dollars for Harvey’s scalp, if you will kill
the rascal or have it done.” I then told them I would see some of my
friends, and let them know in a short time.

A short time after that I received a notice to attend a meeting of the
clan, at our Wigwam in the city, on a certain night. So I disguised
myself and went into the city and attended, and in that meeting I met
several officers of the city, such as constables, deputy sheriff, etc.,
who all told me not to be afraid; that there would be no exertion to
arrest me. There were a number of resolutions passed commemorative
of the demise of our departed friends and brothers Gale H. Wages and
Charles McGrath. After the adoption of these resolutions, I then raised
the question before the meeting as to the propriety of taking up with
old Wages’ offer; and after explaining that offer to the meeting, it
was unanimously approved; and I was nominated to head and lead the band
on that expedition, with power to select as many, and just such men
of our clan as I thought necessary. So I selected Jackson Pool, Sam.
Stoughton, John Copeland and Thomas Copeland. I selected them because
they were good woodsmen, and I knew that Pool and Stoughton were brave.

After I had made the selection, I called them all together and we held
a consultation. It was agreed that we would go and make the trial on
Harvey; but that we must have five hundred dollars from old Wages in
advance. I went to old Wages, and told him what was our conclusion.
He hesitated at first, and offered to give us security that the money
should be paid when we had done the job; I told him, “no! it was a
dangerous undertaking, and we must be paid something to start with.”
Finally, after consulting with his wife, he agreed to give us the five
hundred dollars. Our only business then was to prepare ourselves with
the best of double-barrel guns and pistols and bowie knives, with
plenty of ammunition and percussion caps of the best quality, and thus
armed and equipped we were ready for our journey.

Now I had a two fold object in view; that was, to go on to Catahoula,
and search for my money, and for that purpose I took with me my diagram
or map. The old man forked over the five hundred dollars, and we made
ready for the start.

On Sunday morning the 8th day of July, 1848, we all set out from Wages’
place on Big Creek, where we had assembled for that purpose. We had
not traveled far before Thomas Copeland was taken sick and turned
back, at Dog River. We then traveled on by Fairley’s ferry, the
O’Neal settlement and by James Batson’s to Harvey’s place. We traveled
leisurely and camped out every night. We did not stop at any house
after we left Pascagoula, and we reached Harvey’s place early in the
day on the Saturday following. I was well acquainted with the place for
I had been there with Wages and McGrath when Allen Brown lived there.

We found the house empty, but from appearances we judged that the farm
was cultivated. We saw signs of foot steps about the house and yard,
from which we inferred that Harvey was in the habit of coming about
there daily. Our next business was to prepare for action. We went into
the house and made many port holes on every side, so that we could
shoot Harvey, let him approach which ever side he would. Our next
business was to examine around the premises for his path, and place a
sentinel there in ambush for his arrival. This sentinel was cautiously
relieved every two or three hours, whilst the balance of us remained
close inside or about the house, eating figs, peaches and water melons
and destroying more than we eat.

In the afternoon we began to get hungry; I proposed to the balance to
go over to Daniel Brown’s, about a mile and get some bread and meat
for us all. Pool and Stoughton objected, and said, “there is plenty of
green corn in the field; let us make a fire and roast some of the ears
and eat here.” I then objected, and told them that if Harvey discovered
a smoke in the house he would take the hint, and give the alarm, and
that we should have the whole of Black and Red Creek down upon us. They
still persisted, and Stoughton went into the field, gathered about
twenty ears of the best and greenest corn and brought them into the
house. Pool went out and brought in a load of wood and made a large
fire and they roasted their corn.

That was precisely what betrayed us—the smoke issuing from the chimney
of the house.

After the corn was roasted, we all eat heartily; John Copeland was
on guard; Pool took his place, and John came in and eat. A little
before sunset it was Stoughton’s time to relieve Pool. My brother John
proposed to Stoughton to let him relieve Pool, and for Stoughton to
take the next watch around the house. So it was agreed, and Pool came
to the house.

PRESENTIMENT OF POOL’S DEATH.

Awhile after sunset, Stoughton, Pool and I were sitting on the gallery,
talking very low, about the way we should have to manage. We were
fearful Harvey was not at home, or had left the country. Some of us
were eating figs and some eating peaches. All of a sudden our attention
was arrested by a large white fowl, which passed through the yard some
fifteen or twenty yards from us. It was a kind of fowl that I had never
seen before, nor had either of my comrades, as they asserted. It walked
some ten or fifteen yards; we rose to get a more minute view, and it
took flight and ascended, until we lost sight of it in the distance.
This seemed to strike Pool with terror and amazement, and he reflected
a few minutes and said, “Boys, I shall be a dead man before to-morrow
night! That is an omen of my death!”

Stoughton laughed and said to Pool, that if he was a dead man he would
make a very noisy corpse; but Pool still insisted that it was a signal
of his death, and urged hard that we should leave that place, and
retire to one more secluded. “I did wrong,” said he, “in making fire in
the house.” We tried to laugh him out of his predictions, but all to no
purpose; and sure enough, as he had conjectured, before the next night
he was a corpse.

[Illustration: THE FAMOUS HARVEY BATTLE.—[See page 103.]

Just before dark, Stoughton went to where brother John was stationed,
and they both remained until after dark; they then came up to the
house, and Stoughton mounted guard. All this time Pool appeared to
be in a deep study and had nothing to say, appeared dejected and low
spirited. We all laid down, except Stoughton, to try to sleep; I
could see Pool and John; they could not sleep. The moon rose two or
three hours before day, and I got into a doze several times and each
time the most huge serpents would be after me, that I ever beheld. This
would waken me, and finally I got up and walked about; I found Pool was
up. Stoughton said he could not sleep, and brother John got up and said
he could not sleep. We then consulted together and Pool was for leaving
the place before day. Stoughton objected, and said, “Let’s wait until
eight or nine o’clock in the morning; after Harvey gets his breakfast
he may come to the orchard for fruit. If he does not come by this time,
we may leave.”

Daylight made its appearance not long after that, and shortly after the
sun rose, and poor Pool said after the sun had risen above the horizon:
“How beautiful the sun looks this morning; the sky looks so pure, clear
and serene!” Poor fellow! It was the last sun that he ever beheld
encircling this earth.

THE FAMOUS HARVEY BATTLE.

The time passed on until between eight or nine o’clock. We were all out
in the yard, eating figs and peaches; John Copeland all at once cried
out: “Boys, there comes a young army of Black Creek men!” We all dodged
into the house. Pool seized his gun, and says, “boys take your guns!” I
said to him, “they will not trouble us; they are a company out hunting,
and are coming in here for figs and water melons and other fruit; they
are not in pursuit of us!” “Yes they are,” said Pool, “and I will sell
my life as dear as I can!” So saying he cocked both barrels of his gun
and pistol and eased his bowie knife in the sheath.

We had given no instructions, only to be silent and remain still. They
seemed to separate and go in different directions. On coming near the
house, some one of their company hailed to the balance, “come on, boys,
here they are!” “There!” said Pool, “I told you so.” So soon as we
heard this, we knew that we had been discovered, and that it was to
kill or be killed.

I made my escape out of the house the first opportunity I saw, dodged
around a big fig tree, and looked back a moment at the house. Pool was
standing in the door with his gun at a poise. Harvey came round the
corner of the house, on Pool’s right, and jumped into the gallery;
Pool immediately fired, and struck Harvey in the left side. Harvey
immediately squared himself and shot the contents of his whole load in
Pool’s side, and fell on the gallery. Pool stepped into the yard, and
another man shot him in the breast, and he immediately fell dead.

At this moment Stoughton and John Copeland jumped out of the door and
ran; I wheeled immediately as the crowd rushed around the house, and
ran. At the report of the next gun, the shot whistled all around my
head, I then heard several guns. It appeared to me there must have been
five hundred at that moment; and I have no doubt that I made the best
running there that I ever made in my life before. In fact, it seemed to
me that it was no trouble, that I never touched the ground, but flew
over it.

After I had got a sufficient distance from the place, and found I was
not pursued by any of their party, I stopped to reflect to myself, and
wondered what had become of Stoughton and my bother John. Pool, I knew,
must be dead, for I saw him fall, and the blood gush from the wound. I
felt almost certain that Stoughton and my brother John were both killed
also, from the number of guns I heard fired, as I thought.

It was then that I more seriously meditated on my situation than I
ever had done before, and wondered to myself what I should do for the
best. I felt very sad, and thanked my God for my providential escape,
believing that all the rest of my comrades were in eternity. But
after I had thus meditated and reflected upon the past, I felt that I
deserved death, when all my crimes again stared me full in the face. I
then formed a stern resolution within my own breast, that if God would
permit me ever again to reach my home, that I would refrain from all my
evil ways, and become a Christian, believing that God had been merciful
to me, in preserving me, and hurling my comrades and associates into
another world.

After a while I became more collected and concluded I would go over to
Daniel Brown’s, who, I knew, did not live far from that place. I had
been there but a short time when my brother John came up, bare-headed,
and mud above his knees, where he had run through a muddy reed-brake.
He called me to one side, and in a few words he told me that Stoughton
was not killed, but Pool was, and that our enemies had left there. He
saw them carrying Harvey away, and he thought Harvey was dead; that we
had better go over and do something with Pool and get Stoughton, and
leave.

This was on Sunday, the 15th of July, 1848. Several persons had
accidently happened in at Brown’s that day. I went into the house and
told the company what had happened over to the other house, since I
left; that there had been some shooting done, and that Pool was killed,
and I expected Harvey was; that we were on our way to Honey Island, and
stopped there for the night; and that I had come over to Brown’s to get
some bread baked, and that it had all occurred since I left; and that I
would like to go over and do something with Pool, and see if Stoughton
was killed. A number of persons went with us to the place, some ladies
among the rest. When we got there we found Pool lying dead. We laid him
straight on his back. I recollected that he had some money, and I soon
sounded his pockets, and obtained one hundred and twenty dollars of the
money I had given him. There was a five dollar gold piece missing. I
took all he had. As he had other means, I knew that the money would do
him no good then. I went into the house and got John Copeland’s hat,
and went down to the side of the swamp and called Stoughton, and he
came out. We were then all together again, except Pool.

We gathered our guns, returned to Brown’s, eat dinner, and left for
home. But in the affray I had lost my memorandum book, and in that book
was the diagram or map and directions where to find the money which
belonged to Wages, McGrath and myself; I hunted for it diligently, but
could not find it. It certainly went in a very mysterious way, and I
have often since thought that the decree of Justice forbid me enjoying
that money.

After we left Brown’s that day, we traveled on the same route we had
come. We slept in the woods that night, and next day we got something
to eat at Peter Fairley’s, and so continued our journey on home, where
we arrived on Sunday, the 22d of July, having been gone just fourteen
days. When we arrived, old Wages was highly pleased that Harvey was
killed, and he and the old lady very promptly settled with us. He paid
us off with his place on Big Creek, in part, and the balance in hogs,
cattle, pony horses, carts and farming tools and utensils. My father
and mother, with the family, removed to the place.

In a very little while after that, the times began to be very squally.
Old Wages and his wife had to pull up stakes, take their negroes and
leave the country, at a great sacrifice of their property. I was
already an outlaw; my brother John now became one with me. Stoughton,
like a fool, as he was, took a yoke of oxen, or some cattle, which
he had received from Wages in part pay for his services, to Mobile
for sale. While there, he was arrested and put in jail, under the
requisition of the Governor of Mississippi, and conveyed from Mobile
to Perry county, where he was tried and convicted twice. The first
conviction was reversed by the Appellate Court, and while in prison,
waiting a second hearing, he died. So went another of our clan to
eternity.

I still continued laying out and hiding myself from place to place,
fully intending to leave the country just as soon as I could settle my
business; and I even made several appointments of times that I would
go, but some way, or somehow, there appeared to be a supernatural power
which controlled my every action, and I could not leave the vicinity of
Mobile.

During that fall and winter my brother John and I made two trips from
Big Creek to Catahoula to hunt for that money, and the last trip we
made I was prepared to leave. Brother John had left the principal part
of his money at home, and had to go back after it, and he prevailed
on me to go with him. We returned to the vicinity of Mobile, where I
loitered away my time for some month or two, and it seemed that my mind
in some way became confused and impaired, and I took to drinking too
much spiritous liquors. One day, some time in the spring of 1849, my
brothers John, Thomas, Isham or Whinn, and I were at a little grocery
store near Dog river, about twelve miles from Mobile. I drank too much
spirits and became intoxicated, and in that situation I imagined every
man I saw was trying to arrest me. I fell in with a man by the name of
Smith, an Irishman, and a difficulty occurred between us; I concluded
that he intended to arrest me. I drew my double-barrel shot gun upon
him and intended to kill him. He was too quick for me; he threw up
my gun, drew his dirk and stabbed me just above the collar bone. The
wound did not quite penetrate the cavity of the chest, or it would have
killed me; I threw down my gun and ran about two hundred yards and
fainted. My brothers then carried me about two miles, and one of them
went home and got a carriage and took me home. Smith went to Mobile and
told the news. A party came out and tracked me up by the blood, and
arrested and carried me to Mobile jail.

I was now in the worst situation I ever was in in my life. One
indictment against me in Alabama for larceny, and another against me
in Mississippi for murder, and the requisition of the Governor of
Mississippi then in the hands of the officer to carry me there to be
tried. The question was which trial to avoid; if found guilty, as I
felt certain I would be, in both cases, one would be the penitentiary
for not less than four years, and the other would be hanging. I
employed the best counsel that could be procured in Mobile, and on
consulting with him and making him fully acquainted with all the facts,
he advised me to plead guilty of the larceny and go to the penitentiary
of Alabama; “for,” said he, “you may stand some chance after your
four years are out to make your escape from the clutches of the law
in Mississippi. They may not think to file their requisition with the
Governor of Alabama in time, and in that event, when your time expires,
you will be let loose.”

My trial came on before my wound was near well, and I was brought into
court and arraigned, and the indictment read to me in open court. When
asked “are you guilty or not guilty?” I plead guilty, after which
my counsel addressed the court and prayed its indulgence in passing
sentence, and that the term of punishment be made as short as the law
would permit, which was accordingly done, and sentence of four years at
hard labor in the penitentiary of Alabama was passed upon me.

I accordingly served out my four years at Wetumpka, Ala., and all to
avoid going to Mississippi to be tried for the murder of Harvey.

However, I did not evade the rigor of the laws of Mississippi. The
vigilance of the Sheriff of Perry county threw a guard around me, that
secured to him the possession of my person at the expiration of my time
in the penitentiary of Alabama, and he immediately transferred me to
the county jail of Perry county, Mississippi.

I remained in the jail of Perry and Covington counties upward of two
years before I had a trial. I was found guilty of murder; and the
sentence of death was passed upon me, and the day appointed for my
execution. Within eight days of the time the Sheriff informed me that
my time was only eight days, and that my rope, shroud and burial
clothes were all ready. He then read to me the death warrant! My tongue
nor pen cannot express my feelings on that occasion during that day and
night. However, to my great joy, the next morning he brought me the
glorious news that the clerk of the court had received a supersedeas
and order to respite my execution, and carry my case to the High Court
of Errors and Appeals.

I cannot express my joyful feelings on receiving this intelligence.
It removed that cloud of horror and despair, which was lowering upon
and around me, and renovated anew my whole soul. It was to me as a
refulgent light from the sun of heaven cast upon the dark and gloomy
vale; but, alas, how ephemeral that sunshine of joy and bliss! That
fickle dame, Fortune, upon whose wheel I had so successfully floated in
former days, finally brought me to the same point where I started.

I was, therefore, conveyed from the Perry county jail to the State
penitentiary at Jackson, to await there a hearing of my case in the
High Court of Errors and Appeals, and remained there about two years.
In the meanwhile my case was argued before this Court, and the judgment
reversed, and the cause remanded for further proceedings in the Circuit
Court of Perry county.

TRIAL OF JAMES COPELAND.

TRANSCRIPT OF THE JUDICIAL PROCEEDINGS.

At the September term of said Court, in the year A. D. 1857, on
Wednesday of the term, it being the 16th day of the month, James
Copeland was taken to the Bar of the Court and arraigned upon an
indictment, found by the following Grand Jury at the March term,
1857, to-wit: John McCallum, Lemuel Strahan, John W. Carter, Allen
Travis, Lewis H. Watts, James Chappell, G. W. Rawls, Wm. Jenkins,
Peter McDonald, Malachi Odom, Joseph G. Young, James M. Bradler, Sr.,
Stephen Smith, Wm. Hinton, Edmund Merritt, Sidney Hinton, Joseph T.
Breeland, Henry Dearman, Lorenzo Batson and John Fairley, Foreman—which
indictment was as follows:

STATE OF MISSISSIPPI, }
PERRY COUNTY. }

_In the Circuit Court of Perry County—At March Term, 1857._

The Grand Jurors for the State of Mississippi, summoned, empanneled,
sworn, and charged to inquire in and for the State of Mississippi, and
in and for the body of the county of Perry, upon their oath, present,
that James Copeland, late of said county, on the 15th day of July, Anno
Domini, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-eight, with force and arms
in the county of Perry aforesaid, in upon one James A. Harvey, then
and there being in the peace of God and the said State of Mississippi,
feloniously, wilfully and of his malice aforethought, did make an
assault; and that the said James Copeland, a certain shot gun, then
and there loaded and charged with gun powder and divers leaden shot,
which shot gun, so loaded and charged he, the said James Copeland, in
both his hands, then and there, had and held, to, at, against and upon
the said James A. Harvey, then and there feloniously, wilfully and of
the malice aforethought of him, the said James Copeland, did shoot
off, and discharge; and that the said James Copeland, with the leaden
aforesaid, out of the shot gun aforesaid, then and there by force of
the gun powder, shot and sent forth as aforesaid, the said James A.
Harvey, in and upon the left side of him the said James A. Harvey, then
and there feloniously, wilfully and of the malice aforethought of him,
the said James Copeland, did strike, penetrate and wound, giving to
the said James A. Harvey, then and there, with the leaden shot so as
aforesaid, discharged and sent forth, out of the shot gun aforesaid,
by the said James Copeland, in and upon the left side of him, the said
James A. Harvey, a little below the left shoulder of him the said James
A. Harvey, divers mortal wounds of the depth of three inches, and of
the breadth of one quarter of an inch, of which the said mortal wounds,
the said James A. Harvey, from the fifteenth day of July in the year
aforesaid, until the twenty-fifth day of July in the year aforesaid,
languished, and languishing did live; on which said twenty-fifth day
of July in the year aforesaid, the said James A. Harvey in the county
of Perry aforesaid, of the mortal wounds aforesaid, died; and the
jurors aforesaid, upon their oaths aforesaid, do further present, that
John Copeland, late of the county aforesaid, on the day and year first
aforesaid, in the county of Perry aforesaid, feloniously, wilfully and
of his malice aforethought, was present, aiding, abetting and assisting
the said James Copeland the felony and murder aforesaid to do and
commit; and the jurors aforesaid upon their oath aforesaid do say, that
the said James Copeland and John Copeland him the said James A. Harvey,
in manner and form aforesaid, feloniously, wilfully and of their
malice aforethought did kill and murder, against the peace and dignity
of the State of Mississippi.

GEORGE WOOD, _District Attorney_.

Upon this indictment was indorsed “A true bill signed, John Fairley,
foreman.”

At the September Term the following proceedings were had in the case:
“Be it remembered that there was begun and held a regular Term of the
Circuit Court in and for the county of Perry and State of Mississippi,
at the Court House of said county, in the town of Augusta, the place
designated by law for holding said court, on the second Monday of
September, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and
fifty-seven, it being the 14th day of said month, present the Hon.
W. M. Hancock, presiding Judge of the 8th Judicial District of
Mississippi, George Wood, Esq., District Attorney for the said 8th
Judicial District, James R. S. Pitts, Sheriff of Perry county and James
Carpenter, Clerk of said Court.”