[37] Flying ferry boats not unlike these may be seen on some California rivers today.—Ed.

[38] At least 448,000 pounds.—Ed.

[39] This was five years before the burning of Moscow in the Napoleonic War.—Ed.

PART III
JAMES DE WOLF AND THE PRIVATEER YANKEE

1—JAMES DE WOLF

The story of the life of James De Wolf reads like a chapter of wild romance. Without any advantages of birth, fortune or education his indomitable energy and his commanding abilities won for him a seat in the greatest deliberative assembly in the world, the Senate of the United States, and also secured for him one of the largest fortunes in America.

He was born in Bristol, March 18, 1764, the seventh son of Mark Anthony De Wolf, clerk of the Prince Charles of Lorraine, whose raid upon the coast of French Guiana under the leadership of Simeon Potter has already been set forth in this book. He was born of American parents upon the French island of Guadaloupe. The sudden fancy of Captain Potter rescued him from a possible life of obscurity upon that island that his children might rise to influence and power and wealth in America.

Mark Anthony De Wolf married a sister of Potter and became master of one of his brother-in-law’s vessels. More than a very moderate income he never enjoyed, and his sons were compelled to earn their own living at an early age. Following the natural trend of Bristol boys of that period they took up their father’s calling. All who reached manhood became shipmasters, and nearly all of them attained large riches. One of James De Wolf’s descendants, the Rev. C. B. Perry, tells in his book “The De Wolfs” this story of his ancestor’s entrance upon a seafaring life: “Several of them [the De Wolf boys] who had been sweating in the corn rows one summer day flung down their hoes, declaring they would no longer hoe corn when they knew they could get places on their Uncle Sim Potter’s privateer about to sail from Providence. So off they trudged upon the road to that city. As after their long dusty walk they emerged from Seekonk Woods near the old ‘Red Bridge,’ James, the youngest but one of the party, becoming conscious of the dilapidated condition of his hat, and with the vanity of a handsome lad less resigned than his father to his appearance, cried out, ‘Boys, I’m not going through Providence like this,’ and flung the crownless brim—or was it a brimless crown?—into the wayside bushes. Bareheaded he presented himself with his brothers to his no doubt astonished yet sympathetic, bluff old Uncle Sim Potter. They secured the coveted places on the ship and thus began that life of devotion to the sea which the sea was soon so richly to repay.”

Twice in his early seafaring life James De Wolf was captured; for many weeks he was held a prisoner on the Bermuda Islands. His zeal and ability speedily won for him promotion. Having entered the employ of John Brown, the leading ship owner of Providence, he was made master of a vessel before he had completed his twentieth year. His earliest voyages as captain were made to the coast of Africa as master of a small slaver. No stigma whatever was attached to the slave trade at that time. It was regarded as a perfectly legitimate business and was known to be more than ordinarily hazardous because of climatic conditions and the dangerous nature of the coast. The captains engaged in it had to be men of unusual force of character in order to be successful. Before he was twenty-five years old De Wolf had accumulated a fortune large enough to keep him in ease and even luxury for the remainder of his life. But he could not be idle. He was continually branching out into new ventures in which he was almost invariably successful. Everything seemed to turn to gold in his hands. His aim was always to be first in a new field. After he had skimmed the cream from a market he was content to leave for those who followed him the moderate, though perhaps surer gains.

As long as the slave trade remained legal he continued in it, not infrequently going to the southern ports to supervise the sale of his cargoes. This was the case in 1804 when the Legislature of South Carolina opened the ports of that State for the importation of African slaves. One day one of his townsmen, a sailor on a new arrival from the African coast, was walking along the principal street of Charleston, in charge of a party of slave girls that had just been sold, each dusky maiden being picturesquely though not sumptuously attired in a short cotton chemise. As he was passing the leading hotel, he heard a well known voice call out: “Benjamin! Benjamin! Where are you going with those girls?” and down from the veranda came “Captain Jim” to greet his fellow Bristolian and to talk over his voyage with him. During the four years that followed two hundred and two vessels, carrying nearly forty thousand slaves, entered the port of Charleston.