The drinkers listening to the news burst into sardonic laughter. No man had ever traversed the swamp, and it was unlikely that one would. It was unlikely that a man could be found who would try!
Stephen felt an excitement building in him that he hadn't felt in years, a strength and determination that kept his devils at bay.
Samuel Swann was the man to see, they tavern owner told him. He lived nearby, in Perquimans County, and his uncle was the Surveyor General, Edward Moseley. Swann was going with his uncle on the survey.
On the afternoon of the designated day in early March, two of four Carolina Commissioners arrived at the north shore of Currituck Inlet. Chief Justice Christopher Gale and Surveyor General Moseley had with them Samuel Swan, the young and newlywed Carolina surveyor who was to assist his father-in-law, Mister Moseley. Stephen and nine other men paddled the large pirogue that carried them and their supplies. Waiting at the shore were the men who represented Virginia's interests.
A Mister Fitzwilliam and a Mister Dandridge were the Virginia Commissioners, along with the famous and wealthy Colonel William Byrd. Stephen hadn't seen such finery since he'd visited the Harrisons in Williamsburgh as a child, and he delighted in the prospect of seeing Virginia velvet torn to shreds by swamp briers. The Virginians groaned when they realized that the other two Carolina Commissioners, John Lovick and William Little, were not aboard.
The Carolina men set to work preparing a meal for the twenty men while they waited for the others to arrive. The Virginians tried to hide their frustration. The 1710 attempted survey had fallen apart after disagreements between the two colonies' representatives. Beer and rum flowed freely that night and Stephen felt glad to be with comrades again. Voices awakened him in the darkest of night and he watched the surveyors take bearings by the bright North Star.
It was already mid-afternoon of the next day when the two missing Commissioners arrived, making excuses for their lateness, but smelling of the entertainments they'd stopped for at several places along the way. The gentlemen went to the sheltered side of a clump of myrtle and began the ceremony of exchanging documents. Soon their raised voices were heard in argument over the beginning point. Where was the true location of the north shore of the Currituck Inlet, as designated in their Commissions?
Currituck Inlet had changed greatly since Stephen saw it first. A hurricane had opened another inlet five miles to the south in 1712. The old Currituck Inlet was nearly closed, too shallow for ships of any size to pass. Waves slammed across the sand in loud collisions, and threw themselves high into the air. From the north, a spit of sand ran southeastward from a bluff of high land. From that, said the Virginians, should the survey line westward be run: the true north shore of the inlet. Carolinians objected, saying that this spit of land migrated, and that the survey should begin at the bluff. The argument raged on for hours, and still was not resolved by morning. In a peacemaking-attempt, Mister Moseley finally agreed to the Virginia proposal, but, at the last moment, two honest witnesses appeared who swore that, indeed, the spit of land had moved considerably over the last few years. The high point of land was agreed upon and a cedar post was driven into the sand at that point.
Stephen volunteered to join the first team to accompany the surveyors. It began as easy work, carrying the chained poles to measure across the flat sand of Dosier's Island, then, after the line was sighted across a narrow arm of the Currituck Sound, onto Knott's Island. There the group made camp in a pasture with enclosures of cut cedar branches.
The next morning, Colonel Byrd and the other Commissioners took the smaller pirogue to search for a way around Knott's Island, while the large canoe and baggage went around the south end and back up to North River, where the surveying party was to meet Colonel Byrd. The men carried the line for half a mile over the firm land of Knott's Island, then waded through two miles of marsh, rowed across an inlet, and waded through three more miles of marsh to the high land of Princess Anne County. No one complained. Instead, the men made jokes of the discomforts and, by the time they did reach dry land, were in high spirits. Disasters were turned into merriment.
People from the countryside flocked to the camp that evening. They looked on the men as knights-errant, they said, who were running great risk of their lives for the public good. Some thought they must be criminals doing dirty work in payment for their offenses. But, what puzzled them all was how the men could be so light-hearted doing such drudgery.
"You have little reason to be merry," one of the visitors said. "Tomorrow will change your attitude, I fancy. If you have any worldly goods to dispose of, my advice is that you make your wills this very night, for fear you die intestate tomorrow."
Stephen lay that night looking at the stars. He was tired but smiling, still.
The next day started early and they passed the line over firm land to the banks of the North River. They crossed over and landed in another mile-wide marsh, then onto high land to the pocosin they'd been warned of. It was a quagmire of mush, beaver dams, and otter holes that left the men barely able to drag their legs after them.
Sunday followed, and very opportunely. No one worked but to cook. They rested in their filth as visitors came to stare at them.
Monday started early and easily; three miles of high, dry ground. Then came two miles of quagmire as bad, or worse, than what they'd passed. No one complained, but the jesting was gone. When one man sank to his waist, no one laughed.
A heavy rain fell that night, sending everyone to crowd into an old house for shelter. But the house had recently been a pork storehouse, and the moisture of the air dissolved the salt that lay scattered on the floor, making it as wet inside as out. Stephen was awakened before dawn from his deep sleep in the mud by the loud and furious cursing of Colonel Byrd. During the night, men from the pirogue had stolen the meat from the cooking pot, causing all to wait for breakfast to be cooked. The morning hours were spent drying bedclothes and supplies. Everyone's spirits were lifted again by the sun, and by noon they'd returned to pocosin and marsh. Landowners came to watch as the line cut plantations in two, leaving part in Virginia and part in Carolina. Another clear night gave restful sleep.
Early the next morning, the chaplain arrived with men Colonel Byrd had left behind. They were to relieve those who'd labored since Currituck Inlet. Stephen and his now-friends objected. They had come to be proud of what they were doing and wanted to be the first men to venture through the Great Dismal Swamp, as Colonel Byrd was calling it. But the newcomers were equally ambitious and the decision was made by drawing lots. Stephen drew a lot that entitled him to continue and, like the other lucky men, was offered money for the opportunity. No lots were sold. All but the twelve men were dismissed to wait on the CarolinaNorfolk Road for Colonel Byrd and the Commissioners.
These twelve men sat with the Commissioners and surveyors that night as they listened to the borderers of the Dismal who'd come to give advice. No one knew its width, or little else of it, even though they'd lived within smelling distance of it all their lives. Stephen listened in amusement as he old timers told tales of the lions, panthers, and alligators they were likely to encounter. He'd heard such stories in his youth, and more.
Early in the morning, the provisions, bedding, and other necessaries were made up into packs for the men to carry. Enough food for eight days was allowed; it was certain that would be enough, and they couldn't carry more. As one of the strongest men, Stephen's pack weighed nearly seventy pounds. With these heavy packs, the men were to carry the chains, measure the distance, mark the trees, and clear the way for the surveyors every step they went.
The men were cheerful, ready for the test. Mister Irving, a Virginia surveyor, was the only man of the group who seemed unenthusiastic. For his comfort, he had the men carry his bed and several changes of clothing. By ten o'clock in the morning, they had entered the Dismal.
The reeds were tall and thick like Stephen had seen before. The ground was wet and spongy like he remembered. He and a Virginia man p
ushed ahead and used their tomahawks to clear an opening for the surveyors. In three hours they pushed forward half a mile to a small area of firm land. They put down their packs and rested, passing around the jug of rum. After an hour's rest Colonel Byrd made a rousing speech and the surveying party continued into the reeds as Colonel Byrd and the two other Commissioners with him turned back. In the stifling heat of the reeds the party made one more mile's progress that day.
Another day in worse reeds and briers than before ended amidst a tangle of great cypresses which the wind had blown down and heaped upon one another. The limbs were sharp snags, like pikes, that were hard to avoid. Less than two miles were made on this day as the jug of rum moved around, mixed with the dark water that bubbled up from any depression.
Stephen lay strips of bark on the ground, and put his blanket on top of that. He lay awake for a few minutes, knowing that by now Colonel Byrd and his party would have passed through Deep Creek on their way to greet the surveying part when it exited the swamp on the western side. He thought of his mother and fell asleep.
Another day of edging through and over fallen trees followed. Making it worse, the bad water had brought on fluxes among the men, many of them soiling their breeches. Mister Irving stopped to change clothes twice. They all chewed the rhubarb that Colonel Byrd had issued to them, and the malady was controlled. Early in the evening a hard rain started. As the trembling ground they stood on turned into a pond, the men had the good fortune to come upon firm ground and raised a shelter of branches to be safe and dry. Mister Irving looked about for snakes that might be seeking high ground from the water, but Stephen reassured him. The Commissioners had been wise to choose this time of year, before the snakes came out.
They rested on the high ground for another day, Sunday, until the water dropped.
Monday was clear and the line passed over better ground. They covered nearly three miles until stopped by an impenetrable cedar thicket.
Tuesday, the nineteenth of March, was another day in a miry cedar bog, with more fallen trees and trembling ground. They worked in silence.
Wednesday was more cedar bog, where the trees were smaller and grew in a thicket. Provisions were getting shorter and the work was getting harder. They began rationing the food, and lay down to bed hungry. Some humor did remain, and the youngest fellow of the group, who was plump and healthy-looking, was threatened with the cooking pot if things got worse. He was glad to be of service to such good friends, dead or alive, he said, but was the last to fall asleep.
On Thursday morning, the remaining provisions were distributed among the men to eat when they saw fit. The prospect was bleak so, with all consenting, they decided to abandon the line, for present, and set off very early with their compass in a direct, westerly course. The struggled through the cedar swamp until dark, covering about four miles. All food was gone by night, and most of their hopes, until they heard the sound of cattle lowing and dogs barking.
At sunlight, they started off again towards the west. They saw the good omen of crows flying overhead and, after an hour's march over marshy ground they began to find themselves among tall pines that grew in the water. Stephen knew they were out. It was wet, but the ground was hard beneath. About ten o'clock that morning they reached dry land. Their good luck took them to the house a Mister Brinkley, just south of the line, who began a barrage of questions.
"We have no spirit to answer questions till after dinner," Samuel Swan told him.
"But, pray, gentlemen, answer my one question at least: what shall we get for your dinner?"
Swan answered for them all
"No matter what, provided it be but enough."
Stephen heard himself groaning and woke up. The pain in his foot made him yell and he reached down to grasp his ankle. He'd stepped on a cedar spike as they scrambled to get out of the swamp, but didn't know how baldly he'd hurt himself till then. Samuel Swann lay next to him and woke up in alarm.
"What is it, man?"
"My foot!" Stephen cried.
Swann untied the stocking and pulled it off, over the swollen foot, stiff with dried blood.
"My God!" Swann said, and handed Stephen a flask of kill-devil rum.
Swann went to get Colonel Byrd as Stephen drank from the flask and moaned.
The spike had driven to the bone and the wound was dirty from the swamp. Colonel Byrd had one of Mister Speight's servants wash the foot, then he bound it tightly after applying a salve that he made from ingredients he carried with him, mixed with herbs that Mistress Speight grew in her garden.
The salve gave some comfort, as did the rum, and the celebrity that came with their exploit was a diversion from pain. It was so for Stephen, but nothing was solace for George Tilman who was exhausted with the flux and who lost nourishment and liquid faster than he could take them in. Stephen Williams and George Tilman were done with the survey.
In short time both men were satisfied for their services. Mister Moseley, in his cups, called Stephen a "martyr," and paid him handsomely for the dirty work. Mister Dandridge settled well with Tilman, though the man was still too weak to know the difference. Their comrades paid them honors, and the men waiting to take their places treated them like munificent benefactors.
Word spread quickly of the men's escape from the swamp, and people began to come. Many of them brought food or drink, and a fair celebration was held.
The next day was Sunday and more people came to hear the chaplain's sermon or to have their children baptized. Stephen was carried to a high-wheeled cart among the men where he could lie to hear the pastor and to see and be seen by the crowd. He saw Nancy Manning, from Deep Creek, in the throng. She was much older, to his surprise, and stood with a man and three children. She looked at him and smiled in recognition.
Nancy Ruffin, she told him later, the wife of Charles Ruffin, to whom she introduced him.
They had but little time to talk. Mister Ruffin was anxious to be presented to Colonel Byrd by his friend Speight, and Nancy had lost track of her girls. Before leaving to return to their plantation on the Blackwater River she came back and interrupted the group of young people who had gathered around him.
"I'm glad you're doing well, Stephen," she said. "You're looking well. The last time I saw you was at a church service, too, you remember. Your actions, then, had chased away the girls. Not like today."
Her eyes traveled over him in a scandalous way as she held his hand in farewell.
For the next five days Stephen stayed at the Speight plantation as his former comrades returned to the swamp to carry forth the line. Mister Speight, who had nearly exhausted his supply of laid-up pork and beef, was plainly relieved to be near the end of his hospitality. Colonel Byrd and the other Commissioners, along with their porters, servants, and extra men, had drained his reserves of graciousness as well as those in his smokehouses. His daughter, and the female servant assigned to tend Stephen's wound, were more compassionate. Although they were unduly pale, with "custard faces," as he heard Mister Dandridge say, from the Carolina diet of port, Stephen found their attentions to him flattering and arousing. By Thursday, he had bedded the nurse and one of the Speight daughters. This activity made his foot bleed anew and caused a jealous reaction from a second daughter, which threatened to expose the household's methods of treating a wounded hero.
On Friday, after bringing the line onto the high ground and causing signs to be raised alongside the road, Mister Swann was allowed to depart from the survey party so as to return home to his bride. He led the cart that carried Stephen down to Edenton, passing happy people all along the road. All of the disputed land was now officially recognized as being in North Carolina.
Chapter Twenty-four
There was celebration when Stephen and Swann reached Edenton, and when Samuel Swann rode out the next day to join his bride at their plantation, Stephen was left as hero of the hour.
Traversing the Dismal Swamp was a trek worthy of Marco Polo. Never before had man ventured into that mora
ss of evil spirits and sickly humors to emerge alive on the other side. Some said that the explorers lied; some that they were allies of Satan, who lived in the Swamp; some that they were specially protected by God in their labor of community spirit; but all were thankful that the boundary dispute was settled, and all were eager to be in the company of a "dismalite."
Stephen paid for no drinks, even though he had ample cash to supply himself. Doors were opened to him, and the hospitality of Edenton offered him a fresh bed every night for weeks. Men rushed to be his friend, and many came with schemes for quick wealth and position. Women approached him on the street, and his thoughts moved from forest brooding back to the motivating ponder of sensual pleasures that had filled his mind when he was younger. He basked in the attention, and it warmed him to the company of society. The years of solitude and despair faded in his memory as he listened to the words of praise for his daring and sacrifice. He enjoyed the moment and gave little consideration to his future.
Becoming Americans Page 48