With Axe and Rifle

by William Henry Giles Kingston

We stepped out so briskly, that although we made a circuit to avoid the risk of falling in with strangers on the high road, we reached home soon after sunset. We found the preparations for our departure much advanced. My father had procured four waggons and several teams of stout oxen, which were considered more suitable than horses for traversing the prairies, as being hardier and better able to go a long distance without water. My father, Mr Tidey, and I had a horse a-piece, and Uncle Denis would, of course, bring his own with probably half-a-dozen more for some of the men.

Martin Prentis was to remain with the purchaser of the property; indeed, without his assistance, Mr McDermont would have been badly off. Our overseer promised, however, when his services were not required, to join us.

Three days after our return Uncle Denis arrived, bringing with him several white men, among whom was his overseer, and two blacks, slaves whom he had emancipated with the promise that they should labour for him until they had paid the price of their freedom. “We shall see whether they prove faithful or not,” he remarked, as he described his arrangements. Besides them Uncle Denis was accompanied by his overseer, who, not being required on the farm, was in search of employment. Greatly to our satisfaction, just as we were on the point of starting, Martin Prentis came forward and offered to give up his situation to Uncle Denis’s overseer, Tom Sykes, if Tom would take it, and Mr McDermont would agree to the arrangement. This he did, and it was settled that Martin should accompany us, so that altogether we formed a pretty large, well-armed party. We all had rifles, and a brace of pistols, besides long knives in our belts, and my father and Uncle Denis wore their swords.

Our uncle’s followers, including Sam Hodding, his factotum, were sturdy fellows, and if some of them were not very bright, they were all, he said, as true as steel, while he believed that the two blacks, influenced by gratitude, would prove perfectly faithful.

He brought word that Mr Bracher was said to be very ill. We suspected that he was suffering from a wound he had received while attacking our house. There was some fear, should he hear of our intended departure, that he might for the purpose of revenging himself, send a party to follow us up and attack us while on the move.

“Never fear, friends,” said Mr McDermont, when the subject was spoken of, “I’ll keep an eye on the proceedings of the gentleman, and if I hear of any suspicious characters going in the direction you are travelling, I’ll dodge their steps and come to your assistance. They’ll not follow you far, if they follow at all, so I don’t think that you need have much fear of being troubled by them.”

We exchanged kind farewells with our new friend, and not without many a regret at leaving Uphill commenced our march. We all knew that it would be a toilsome one and not free from danger, but my father had determined, that as he was moving he would move far west, where the curse of slavery was unknown.

The waggons I have mentioned were of a stronger build than those before described. They had high tilts which made them comfortable sleeping-places at night. My father and Uncle Denis rode alongside the leading waggon, in which my mother, Kathleen, Biddy, and Rose travelled, and Dan condescended when tired to take his seat with them. Martin Prentis drove the first, Sam Hodding the second, Peter the third, and some of our other men the rest. Mr Tidey and I brought up the rear.

For some days we kept Dio inside, lest he might be recognised and an attempt made to carry him off. Boxer and Toby generally scampered on ahead, coming back every now and then, and giving a loud bark as if to hurry on the train.

We moved but at a slow pace, for although the patient oxen could travel on for many miles without growing weary, it was impossible to make them advance out of a steady walk. We proceeded northward, having the mighty Mississippi on our left, until we reached the banks of the Illinois river, which we crossed in flat-bottomed boats, and then proceeding several days’ journey westward, entered the wide prairies of Missouri, the vast river from which the state takes its name being to the south of us. We were now truly in the wilderness, but “Westward Ho!” was our cry. We had numerous dangers to guard against; prairie fires might occur and envelope us in their deadly embrace; hostile Indians might attack us and attempt to carry off our cattle during the night: when crossing rivers floods might come down and overwhelm us; or packs of fierce wolves might seize any of our oxen straying from the neighbourhood of the camp; but the fear of such contingencies did not deter my father and uncle, who had made up their minds to move on until they could find a region suited to their taste. Many had done the same and failed, others had succeeded, and they hoped to be ranked among the latter.