Crockett of Tennessee Read online

  Chapter 15

  He heard the rumble of the wheels, smelled the horses, and finally saw the wagons. A long line of them, laden with casks, crates, and sacks, rolling slowly toward him.

  David Crockett shifted to the side of the road and kept a steady pace, passing the wagon train. All the wagoners were strangers to him, but friendly enough, calling and waving, perhaps thinking it odd to see so young a traveler on foot alone.

  David went on past; the train of wagons receded behind him. A glance at the sun and a rumble in his stomach told him it was nearly time to eat, and it crossed his mind that had he remained closer at hand, the wagoners might have offered an invitation for him to share their food, allowing him to stretch his own provisions further. It was a selfish thought, to be sure, but a young fellow with less than four dollars to see him through hundreds of miles had to think selfishly to survive.

  He decided to turn back and catch up with the wagon train, even though that would temporarily take him away from the direction he needed to go. The pretext of looking for a dropped knife would serve the purpose, he figured.

  David’s hopes were fulfilled. The wagoners had stopped for their meal by the time he reached them, and several friendly voices called for him to join them. There proved no need to invent a story about a lost knife.

  David was seated with trencher on his lap and bread in hand when a short, round fellow with a big grin splitting his ruddy face came to him, bearing his own laden trencher. With a grunt and mumble he settled his plump body down beside David, then stuck out his hand.

  “Myers, Adam Myers,” he said.

  David swallowed a bite of bread. “David Crockett.”

  “Crockett! I once met a Crockett in my hometown. What was his name? John, I think. A constable or magistrate in Greene County, over in Tennessee. That’s where I hail from. Greene Courthouse.”

  “John Crockett is my father.”

  “Law of Moses! What do you think of that? Where is your father these days? Bad fortune with that mill venture of his a few years back … I heard he had moved.”

  “Yes. He’s in Jefferson County now, running a tavern for wagoners, not too far from Cheek’s Crossroads.”

  “Well, I’m throwed, running across you out here. Alone and all, and young as you are.”

  David sensed that Myers was curious about his business, and volunteered, “I came with my older brother and some other folks, herding cattle. I’m on my way home; they’ll be coming later.”

  “Oh. A cattle drover, are you? Have you ever worked with wagons?”

  “I rode with a wagoner named Dunn for a short bit,” David said. Myers nodded and lifted his brows, apparently assuming David meant he had worked with Dunn. David saw no need to correct the misunderstanding. He was beginning to catch the scent of a coming offer, and though he hadn’t come looking for one, it couldn’t hurt to hear out all the options.

  Myers vindicated David’s anticipation with his next sentence. “Young Mr. Crockett, perhaps you’d like to join my train,” he said. “We’re going to Gerardstown and after that will be returning to Tennessee. It wouldn’t be much out of your way to come with us, and I’d pay you decent. I could use the help.”

  David weighed the possibility, and rejected it. “Thank you, Mr. Myers,” he said. “But I reckon I’d best be getting on home.”

  As David walked on a half hour later, his stomach nicely full, he told himself that he had gotten out of Myers all he had hoped for: a good, free meal. Still, Myers’s invitation lingered in mind. And did he really need to get home, after all? Wouldn’t it be as his brother had said: John Crockett holding his anger like a snapping turtle holding a toe? The drove to Front Royal had moved along at a fast clip, and David was making an even faster return journey. At this rate he would be home long before John Crockett had let go of his anger, and probably be worse off than before. And old Kitching would certainly have a thrashing of his own held in store for his wayward pupil.

  David stopped, thought for a few moments, then turned. Myers’s offer was seeming more enticing the longer he considred it. A side journey to Gerardstown would buy more time for tempers back home to cool, put an extra jingle in his pouch, and give him company and protection on the homeward journey, even if it did delay it.

  He loped back to the wagon train. Myers greeted him with a grin and handshake. He seemed a jolly soul, the kind of employer who was a goodly companion as well.

  David was sure he had made the right decision. He caught himself thinking that his father would be proud of him … but there was something uncomfortable about that idea, considering that it was his father he was running from, so he put the thought out of his mind.

  “Well, I wonder who them folks are?” Adam Myers asked.

  David was beside Myers on the wagon, shielding his eyes with his hand and peering hard at the approaching riders. “I can tell you who they are,” he said. “That one on the roan horse is Jesse Cheek, and the fellow on the big black is my brother, James.”

  James Crockett wore a big smile by the time he was close enough for expressions to be visible. He had always been keen of eye, and had recognized David on the wagon while still far away.

  “Dave, it’s fine to see you,” he said. “I ain’t rested easy since you took off.”

  “I’ve done well enough,” David replied.

  “So I see—riding on a wagon instead of walking.”

  “Where’s my brother?” Jesse Cheek asked.

  “Way on toward home by now,” David said. “We parted ways.”

  “You had a falling out?”

  “No sir. Just parted ways.” David didn’t want to tell Cheek how his brother had hogged the saddle and left him to walk.

  David introduced Myers to the others; hands were shaken on all sides. Myers said that he remembered having seen James back in Greene Courthouse when he was a much younger fellow. James said that Myers looked familiar to him too, then turned to David.

  “Looks to me you’re heading the wrong direction to go home,” he said.

  “I ain’t going home, not yet,” David responded. “I’ve hired myself out to Mr. Myers to go to Gerardstown. After that, we’ll be coming back to Tennessee.”

  James frowned. “I don’t know about that, David. The family will be fretting fierce over you by now. And if I go home and tell them it was me who helped you run off to begin with, and then that I let you head out with a bunch of wagoners—no offense to you, Mr. Myers—why, Pap’ll probably take that hickory pole after me instead of you.”

  James’s obvious intent was to stir David’s feelings back toward home, but his mention of the hickory pole didn’t help his case. David deeply feared the beating he was sure to receive.

  “I’ve made Mr. Myers a pledge to work for him, at least as far as Gerardstown,” David said.

  “That’s right,” Myers added. He didn’t seem so jolly now. James’s attempts to lure away his employee apparently annoyed him.

  James went at it hard. He reminded David of the time he had been away from home already, with none of the home kin knowing what had become of him. He talked of their sisters and mother, describing the tears they had surely shed over him and the prayers they must still be sending up for his safe return.

  David was deeply affected by James’s words and, to his own shame, began to cry. A great homesickness stirred in him—but each time it welled up, the image of John Crockett and his hickory pole arose to counter it. No, David decided. He could not return, not yet. He told James to give word that he was well and would be home as soon as his new work would allow it.

  At last James accepted the inevitable, hugged his brother close and patted his shoulders with both hands. He hurried away quickly, trying to hide his tears, but David saw them and was wrenched.

  He looked over his shoulder and watched James and his companions until they were out of sight. The wagons lurched forward, and David turned his gaze ahead.

  At the moment, being a wagoner and far from home didn’t
seem to have much good about it at all, the threat of John Crockett’s hickory stick notwithstanding.

  They reached Gerardstown and disposed of their load. Afterward Myers sought a return cargo and could not find one. Eventually he heard of hauling work in another town, and went there. David did not follow, but remained in the Gerardstown area, working for a farmer, plowing and doing general labor, for twenty-five cents a day.

  When Myers returned, David asked him if he was ready to return to Tennessee as planned, and discovered to his shock that Myers’s scheme had changed. He still could find no return cargo to Tennessee, but he had located a profitable back-and-forth route between Virginia and Baltimore. For now, going home to Tennessee would have to wait.

  Myers made the Virginia-Maryland run several times. David, in the meantime, continued laboring for the farmer, and saving his meager pay.

  Spring came. David bought himself new clothing, sought out Myers and asked if he could accompany him to Baltimore. Myers had such a run planned, it turned out, one that would require only two wagons. He agreed, and David set off, seven dollars in his pocket, on a journey that would take him farther from home than he had ever been. Myers warned him of the dangers of the big city—theft on every hand, scoundrels who could spot a newcomer at a glance and fleece him of his money in moments. Might not David feel better about his seven dollars if Myers kept it for him? After all, Myers said, he was a businessman, accustomed to keeping and guarding money. David thought about it, and handed over his treasure.

  An accident along the way caused damage to a wagon, and very nearly injury to David, who was almost crushed between the barrels of flour that made up the cargo. After shifting as many of the barrels as possible to a second wagon and making arrangements with a local farmer to store the rest until they could return to get it, they limped the rest of the way into Baltimore and took the damaged wagon in for repairs that would take at least two days to complete. They went back and fetched the barrels they had stored with the farmer.

  Then there was nothing to do but wait. David found himself with more time to explore the city than he had anticipated, and set out to do so alone. Myers, who had grown moody since the accident, had seen it all before, and cared nothing about touring the town again.

  Baltimore was a marvelous place to the young frontier boy. He had never seen so vast an expanse of buildings, nor so many people in one small area. He roamed the streets, gaping openly, seldom noticing the knowing grins he generated from the seasoned city folk who had seen such rural types blow through their town many times before.

  What intrigued David most was the wharf and the great ships that lay in dock there. He stood in awe, staring at the tall masts, the intricate roping, the lapping water, the sails lined magnificently against the sky.

  He watched as one particularly impressive ship sailed in and docked. Settling himself in a warm, sunny place, he watched the crewmen and dock hands emptying the holds. Curiosity arose, and he looked for and found an opportunity to slip aboard, very carefully, taking care to draw no notice.

  Exploring the ship provided David more fun than he had experienced for the longest time. What a life this must be! He tried to imagine being aboard ship in the midst of ocean that stretched endlessly on all sides. Looking up the masts at the conglomeration of ropes and sail attached to them, he wondered what it would be like to crawl like a spider among it all, swaying and swinging high above the waves.

  “And who may you be, young man?”

  David wheeled and faced the speaker, a stranger dressed in a manner that marked him as the captain of the vessel. David’s heart rose, pounding, like it was trying to emerge from his throat. He assumed he was in great trouble.

  “I’m … I beg your pardon, sir. I’ll leave.”

  “What a voice! You have the sound of the western hills about you, my lad!”

  The captain, on the other hand, had the sound of the Scottish hills in his own voice. That he was foreign only made him more intimidating to David. He backed away, turned and headed for the ramp.

  “Wait there, my boy,” the captain said. “Let me have a look at you.” He came closer, eyeing David evaluatively. “You’re lean, but stout. I’d wager you can climb.”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Tell me about yourself. What work have you done?”

  David, puzzled by the attention, briefly and rather clumsily mumbled a list of his various jobs. The captain rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully, then said, “Might you consider a voyage to Liverpool?”

  David was very taken aback. Was he being offered work? It certainly sounded that way. He was beginning to learn something about himself: he had some sort of natural quality, inexplicable to him, that made him appealing to others. He wondered if the captain was making a serious offer, but felt shy about asking. A misinterpretation would be embarrassing.

  “Well, lad, what of it? Would you like to be a seafaring man?”

  So he really was being offered a job. He didn’t know what to think about such an unexpected, momentous proposition. He stammered and looked around—and a great sense of excitement rose all on its own, unanticipated and intense. His mind filled with images as big as the ocean itself—crashing waves, great and strange fish leaping from the water and descending again, dark shores coming closer, and cities filled with people whose faces and clothing and language differed from anything he had encountered before.

  He looked up at the captain and nodded. “Yes sir. I believe I would.”

  Chapter 16

  The captain’s name was McClure. He talked further with David, asking him about his parents and seeming pleased to learn they were far away in Tennessee. Did David mind the thought of being miles from his homeland and kin?

  No, David replied. He had gotten past his homesickness, and wouldn’t mind sailing all around the world if he got the chance. And as he said it, it was fully true. In the tearful parting with his brother weeks before, he had passed an emotional milestone. He still loved his kin, still felt fondly about his homeplace, but having made the break, he didn’t feel as bound to it as before, especially considering a prospect as exciting as this one. Right now, the idea of being a seafarer was on him as strong as if it had been a lifetime ambition instead of a totally new notion.

  McClure instructed David to go fetch his clothing and goods, and to return as soon as possible. Burning with the thrill of a new way of life—an ocean voyage! Liverpool!—David raced back to the inn where he and Adam Myers had taken lodging.

  He found Myers half drunk and thoroughly transformed because of it. When David entered, Myers turned a glowering red face to him. “Where you been, boy?”

  “To the wharf. I spoke to a ship’s captain—he’s offered me work on the ship. He says I can sail to England.…”

  Myers paused, taking it in, then snorted in contemptuous laughter. “England, is it? You? Why, they’d tire of you so fast they’d feed you to sharks before you were out of sight of land! You wouldn’t know how to do a seaman’s job!”

  David was startled and puzzled by this new, dark side of Myers now revealing itself to him. “Well, whatever you think about it, it’s what I want to do. I’ve come for my clothes and my money,” he said.

  “Have you? Well, you’ll have neither.”

  “They’re mine!”

  “And you are in my hire, and under my care. You can put aside any notions about ships and ocean voyages. You’re going nowhere but back to Tennessee. I’ve got a return load at last, ready to be hauled out as soon as the wagon is fixed.”

  David was crestfallen—then, in mounting stages, angry. “You’re not my father, nor my owner. I want my money!”

  “Well, you ain’t having it.”

  “Give it to me!”

  “I’ll give you the back of my hand!” Myers groped around. “Where’s that dratted bottle? Ah, here she is!” He took a long swig.

  David raised his fist. “Where is my money? Give it to me!”

  “Maybe I done spen
t it.”

  “You lie!”

  Myers stood, wobbled toward David, and took a swing that missed.

  “I want my money!”

  “No—now get yonder into that bed, and stay where I can see you.”

  “No!”

  Myers reached down to his boot and pulled out a knife. He waved it toward David. “Get into that bed, so I can keep a watch and make sure you don’t sneak off on me.”

  David knew enough about drunks to realize it wouldn’t be wise to challenge Myers while he was armed. Further, his anger was fading into despair, and he was losing the will even to argue. He went to the bed and fell into it, thinking of the ship, and the waiting captain, and his disappearing hope of a voyage to Liverpool.

  It was late afternoon, and by the time the sun was setting, David had fallen asleep. When he awakened, Myers was slumped in a chair beside the door, the knife still in his grip. David stood and thought about trying to slip past him, but Myers lifted his head and looked straight at him in silence. Perhaps it was a move made in the midst of sleep, or perhaps not. David crawled back into his bed.

  Myers kept a watch over him very closely all the next morning, and then throughout the day. David had hoped that as Myers’s drunkenness went away, so would his ill will. This didn’t happen. It seemed that Myers meant it when he said he considered David his personal charge.

  A day later the wagon was fixed. David and Myers loaded up with the wares bound for Tennessee and set out, David’s wagon in front where Myers could keep an eye on him at all times.

  Days passed. David’s anger at the way Myers had treated him, and cheated him out of his money, lingered and grew, and he longed for escape. No opportunity came. Myers watched him doggedly. His harsh attitude clung to him, and David wondered what was wrong with the man. Had he encountered some sort of trouble in Baltimore that had soured him, but which David knew nothing about? It was a mystery David Crockett would never solve. Whatever the reason, Myers was now as gruff and unpleasant as he had been jolly in the past.