Charles A. Siringo

by Fifteen Years on the Hurricane Deck of a Spanish Pony A Texas Cowboy or

  I told him I was compelled to sit upright on account of a lame back. In fact I laid my case before him in full. He then said in a much more pleasant voice: “My boy I’m going to make you an offer, and you can take it or let it alone—just as you like. I will give you four dollars a month to help my wife around the house and at the end of four months will give you a free pass to Texas. You see I am agent for Couens’ Red River line of boats and, therefore, can get a pass cheap.”

  I accepted his offer at once and thanked him with all my heart for his kindness. Being on his way home, we boarded a Canal street car. It was then almost sundown.

  About a half hour’s ride brought us within half a block of our destination.

  Walking up a pair of nicely finished steps at No. 18 Derbigny street, he rang a bell. A negro servant whom he called “Ann,” answered the call. Everything sparkled within, for the house was furnished in grand style. The old gentleman introduced me to his wife as a little Texas hoosier that had strayed off from home and was about to starve.

  After supper “Miss Mary,” as the servants called Mrs. Myers and as I afterwards called her showed me to the bath house and told me to give myself an extraordinary good scrubbing.

  I do not know as this improved my looks any, as I hadn’t any clean clothes to put on, my valise having been stolen during my illness coming down the river.

  The next day Miss Mary took me to a clothing house and fitted me out in fine style. I admired all but the narrow brimmed hat and peaked toed gaiters. I wanted a broad brimmed hat and star top boots, but she said I would look too much like a hoosier with them on.

  That evening I got a black eye. After Mr. Myers came home from his work about four o’clock, we all went out on the front steps to breathe the fresh air. There being a crowd of boys playing at the corner I asked Mr. and Mrs. Myers if I could go over and watch them awhile. Both consented, but told me not to stay long as they didn’t want me to get into the habit of mixing with the street loafers.

  On arriving there all eyes were turned towards me. One fellow yelled out, “Hello dandy, when did you arrive!” and another one remarked, “He is a stiff cuss—aint he?”

  I concluded there was nothing to be seen and turned back; just as I turned around a yellow negro boy slipped up behind me and pulled my hair. The white boys had put him up to it, no doubt.

  I jumped aboard of him quicker than a flash and forgot all about my sore back. It was nip and tuck for awhile—we both being about the same size, but I finally got him down and blooded his nose in good shape. As I went to get up he kicked me over one eye with his heavy boot. Hence the black eye, which was swollen up in a few minutes to an enormous size.

  I expected to get a scolding from Mr. and Mrs. Myers, but they both gloried in my spunk for taking my own part. They had witnessed the whole thing.

  Somehow or another that fight took the kink out of my back for from that time on it began to get well. I am bothered with it though, to this day, when I take cold or do a hard day’s work.

  CHAPTER VI.

  Adopted and sent to school.

  MR. AND MRS. MYERS had no children and after I had been with them about a month, they proposed to adopt me, or at least they made me promise to stay with them until I was twenty-one years of age.

  They were to send me to school until I was seventeen and then start me in business. They also promised to give me everything they had at their death.

  So they prepared me for school right away. As I was not very far advanced in book learning, having forgotten nearly all that Mr. Hale taught me, they thought I had better go to Fisk’s public school until I got a start.

  I had not been going to this school long when I had trouble with the lady teacher, Miss Finnely. It happened thus: A boy sitting behind me, struck me on the neck with a slate pencil, and when I turned around and accused him of it he whispered, “you lie.” I gave him a lick on the nose that made him bawl like a calf.

  Of course the teacher heard it and called us up to take our medicine.

  She made the other boy hold out his hand first and after giving him five raps told him to take his seat.

  It was then my time, and I stuck out my hand like a little man. She gave me five licks and was raising the rule. to strike again when I jerked my hand away, at the same time telling her that it wasn’t fair to punish me the most when the other boy caused the fuss. She insisted on giving me a little more so finally I held out my hand and received five more licks and still she was not satisfied; but I was and went to my seat. She told me two or three times to come back but I would not do it, so she sent a boy up-stairs after Mr. Dyer, the gentleman who taught the large boys.

  I had seen Mr. Dyer try his hand on boys, at several different times, therefore didn’t intend to let him get hold of me if I could help it. She saw me looking towards the door, so she came over and stood between me and it.

  I heard Mr. Dyer coming down the stairs; that was enough; I flew for the door. I remember running against something soft and knocking it over and suppose it must have been Miss Finnely. When I got to the street I pulled straight for home.

  About a week afterwards Mr. Myers sent me to pay school, where I was taught German, French and English. My teacher was an old gentleman who only took a few select scholars.

  Everything went on fine until the following spring, in May or June, when I got into a fuss with one of the scholars and skipped the country.

  The way it happened: One day when school let out for dinner we all, after emptying our dinner baskets, struck out for the “green” to play “foot and a half.”

  There was one boy in the crowd by the name of Stemcamp who was always trying to pick a fuss with me. He was twice as large as I was, therefore I tried to avoid him, but this time he called me a liar and I made for him.

  During the scuffle which followed, I got out my little pearl handled knife, one “Miss Mary” had given me just a few days before and was determined to use it the first opportunity.

  I was down on all fours and he astride of my back putting it to me in the face, underhanded. The only place I could get at with the knife was his legs, so I stuck it in up to the handle, on the inside of one leg, just below the groin and ripped down.

  He jumped ten feet in the air and roared out “Holy Moses!”

  As soon as I regained my feet he took to his heels, but I soon overtook him and got another dig at his back. I thought sure I had done him up for good this time but found out afterwards that I had done no harm, with the exception of ripping his clothes down the back.

  The next day at that time I was on my way to Saint Louis. I had stowed myself away on board of the “Mollie Able” among the cotton bales.

  The second night out we had a blow up. One of the cylinder-heads blew out of the engine. It nearly killed the engineer and fireman, also several other persons.

  A little negro boy—who was stealing his passage—and I were sleeping on a pile of lumber close to the engine when she went off. We both got pretty badly scalded.

  The steamer ran ashore and laid there until morning and then went the balance of the way on one wheel. It took us just eight days from that time to get to Saint Louis.

  I remained in Saint Louis one day without food—not caring to visit the “Planters” or any of my acquaintances—and then walked to Lebanon, Ill., twenty-five miles. I thought may be I might find out through some of my Lebanon friends where mother and sister were.

  It was nearly noon when I struck out on my journey and nine o‘clock at night when I arrived at my destination. I went straight to Mrs. Bell’s, where sister had worked, but failed to hear a word of mother and sister’s whereabouts.

  Mrs. Bell gave me a good bed that night and next morning I struck out to hunt a job.

  After considerable tramping around I found work with one of my old employers, a Mr. Jacobs, who lived twelve miles from town.

  I only worked a short while when I began to wish I was back under “Miss Mary’s” wing. So one morning I quit and
pulled for Saint Louis.

  I had money enough to pay my fare to Saint Louis and I arrived there just as the “Robert E. Lee” and “Natchez”1 were fixing to pull out on their big race for New Orleans.

  The “Robert E. Lee” being my favorite boat, I jumped aboard just as she was shoving off. Of course I had to keep hidden most of the time, especially when the captain or purser were around. I used to get my chuck from the cook who thought I was a bully boy.

  The “Natchez” would have beaten, no doubt, but she got too smart by trying to make a cut-off through an old canal opposite Memphis and got stuck in the mud.

  The first thing after landing in New Orleans, I hunted up one of my boy friends and found out by him how my victim was getting on. He informed me that he was up and hobbling about on crutches. He also stated that the poor fellow came very near losing his leg. I concluded if they did have me arrested that Mr. Myers was able to help me out, so I braced up and struck out for home.

  Mr. and Mrs. Myers were terribly tickled over my return. They had an awful time though getting me scrubbed up again, as I was very black and dirty.

  A few days after my return Mr. Myers went to see my same old teacher to find out whether he would take me back or not. At first he said that no money could induce him to be bothered with me again, but finally Mr. Myers talked him into the notion of trying me once more.

  So the next morning I shouldered my books and struck out for school to take up my same old studies, German, French and English.

  CHAPTER VII.

  Back at last to the Lone Star State.

  EVERYTHING WENT ON LOVELY until the coming fall, about the latter part of November when I skipped the country for good. I will tell you how it happened.

  One afternoon a fire broke out close to the school house and as everybody was rushing by, I became excited and wanted to go too, to see the fun. I asked the teacher if I could go, but he refused in a gruff voice. This did not keep me, I made a break for the door and was soon lost among the surging mass of people.

  The next heard of me was on the “rolling deep.” I had boarded a Morgan steamship and stowed myself away until the vessel was at sea, where I knew they wouldn’t land to put me ashore.

  “St. Mary” was the name of the ship. She lost one of her wheel houses and was considerably out of shape when we landed in Galveston, Texas. It had stormed terribly during the whole trip.

  During the few hours that the ship remained in Galveston, I put in my time hunting an old uncle of mine by the name of “Nick” White, whom I had never seen. He had been living there seventeen years, therefore I experienced but little difficulty in finding his place; but after finding it I didn’t have courage enough to go in and make myself known. One reason was, I thought he might think I was beholden to him, or in other words, trying to get his sympathy. I just stood at the gate a few minutes viewing the beautiful shrubbery, which filled the spacious yard and went back to the boat which by that time, was just fixing to pull out.

  We arrived in Indianola one morning about sun-up. I recognized several of my old acquaintances standing on the wharf before the ship landed; among them was my old God-father Mr. Hagerty, who stood for me when I was being christened by the Catholic priest.

  They were all surprised to see me back. Mr. Hagerty took me home with him and told me to content myself until I could find work.

  In about a week I went to work for Mr. H. Selickson, who ran a packing house five miles below town. He gave me fifteen dollars a month all winter.

  The first month’s wages went for a fancy pistol, the next, or at least part of it, for a pair of star topped boots and all the balance on “monte,” a mexican game. There were lots of mexicans working there and after working hours some of them would “deal” monte while the rest of us “bucked.”

  About the first of February I quit the packing house and went to Matagorda where I was welcomed by all my old aquaintances. From there I took a trip over to the “Settlement,” on the Peninsula, to see the old homestead. Everything looked natural; the cedar and fig trees were covered with little red winged black birds, seemingly the same ones that were there when I left, nearly three years before.

  After a week’s stay in the Settlement, I went back to Matagorda and went to work for Mr. Joseph Yeamans, a Baptist preacher. My work was farming and my wages part of the crop.

  Mr. Yeamans’ farm was a thirty acre sand patch on the Peninsula, about forty miles above the Settlement. Our aim was to raise a big crop of water melons and sweet potatoes, but when I left everything pointed to a big crop of grass burrs and a very slim lay out of garden “truck”.

  The old gentleman and I lived all alone in a little dilapidated shanty with a dirt floor. Our chuck consisted of black coffee, hard-tack and coon or ’possum meat. We had three good coon dogs, therefore had plenty of fresh meat such as it was.

  There being plenty “Mavricks”1 close at hand, and being tired of coon meat, I used to try and get the old man to let me butcher one now and then for a change, but he thought it wicked to kill cattle not our own.

  As some of you may not know what a “Mavrick” is, I will try and explain.

  In early days, a man by the name of Mavrick settled on the Lavaca river and started a cow ranch. He being a chicken-hearted old rooster, wouldn’t brand nor ear-mark any of his cattle. All his neighbors branded theirs, therefore Mr. Mavrick claimed everything that wore long ears.

  When the war broke out Mr. Mavrick had to bid adieu to wife and babies and go far away to fight for his country’s good.

  When the cruel war was ended, he went home and found his cattle roaming over a thousand hills. Everywhere he went he could see thousands upon thousands of his long-eared cattle.

  But when his neighbors and all the men in the surrounding country came home and went to branding their five years increase, Mr. Mavrick did not feel so rich. He made a terrible fuss about it, but it did no good, as in a very few years his cattle wore some enterprising man’s brand and he was left out in the cold.

  Hence the term “Mavrick.” At first people used to say: “Yonder goes one of Mr. Mavrick’s animals!” Now they say: “Yonder goes a Mavrick!”

  About the time we got our crops, sweet potatoes, melons, etc., in the ground, I swore off farming and skipped out for town, leaving Mr. Yeamans my share of the “crop” free gratis.

  After arriving in Matagorda I hired out to a Mr. Tom Nie, who was over there, from Rancho Grande, hiring some Cow Boys.

  “Rancho Grande” was owned by “Shanghai” Pierce2 and Allen and at that time was considered one of the largest ranches in the whole state of Texas. To give you an idea of its size, will state, that the next year after I went to work we branded twenty-five thousand calves—that is, just in one season.

  Altogether there were five of us started to Rancho Grande to work—all boys about my own age; we went in a sail boat to Palacious Point, where the firm had an outside ranch and where they were feeding a large lot of cow ponies for spring work.

  It was about the middle of April, 1871, that we all, about twenty of us, pulled out for the head-quarter ranch at the head of Tresspalacious creek. It took us several days to make the trip as we had to brand calves and Mavricks on the way up.

  A few days after arriving at the ranch Mr. or “Old Shang” Pierce as he was commonly called, arrived from Old Mexico with about three hundred head of wild spanish ponies, therefore we kids had a high old time learning the art of riding a “pitching” horse.

  We put in several days at the ranch making preparations to start out on a two months trip. Being a store there we rigged up in good shape; I spent two or three months’ wages for an outfit, spurs, etc., trying to make myself look like a thoroughbred Cow Boy from Bitter creek.

  There were three crowds of us started at the same time; one to work up the Colorado river, the other around home and the third which was ours, to work west in Jackson and Lavaca counties.

  Our crowd consisted of fifteen men, one hundred head of ponie
s—mostly wild ones—and a chuck wagon loaded down with coffee, flour, molasses and salt. Tom Nie was our boss.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  Learning to rope wild steers.

  ARRIVING ON THE NAVADAD RIVER, we went to work gathering a herd of “trail” beeves and also branding Mavricks at the same time. Some days we would brand as high as three or four hundred head—none under two years old.

  After about a month’s hard work we had the herd of eleven hundred ready to turn over to Mr. Black who had bought them, delivered to him at the Snodgrass ranch. They were all old mossy horn fellows, from seven to twenty-seven years old.

  Mr. Black was a Kansas “short horn” and he had brought his outfit of “short horn” men and horses, to drive the herd “up the trail. ”

  Some of the men had never seen a Texas steer, consequently they crossed Red river into the Indian territory with nothing left but the “grub” wagon and horses. They had lost every steer and Mr. Black landed in Kansas flat broke.

  Lots of the steers came back to their old ranges and Mr. “Shanghai” had the fun of selling them over again, to some other greeny, may-be.

  “Shanghai” Pierce went to Kansas the next year and when he returned he told of having met Mr. Black up there, working at his old trade—black—smithing. He said Mr. Black cursed Texas shamefully and swore that he never would, even if he should live to be as old as Isaac, son of Jacob, dabble in long horns again.

  After getting rid of Mr. Black’s herd we turned our whole attention to branding Mavricks.

  About the first of August we went back to the ranch and found that it had changed hands in our absence. “Shanghai” Pierce and his brother Jonathan had sold out their interests1 to Allen, Pool & Co. for the snug little sum of one hundred and ten thousand dollars.

  That shows what could be done in those days, with no capital, but lots of cheek and a branding iron. The two Pierce’s had come out there from Yankeedom a few years before poorer than skimmed milk.