A WONDERFUL SHOT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXVII, Issue 8222, 5 April 1890, Page 2 (Supplement)

A WONDERFUL SHOT.

THE SNAPPING TURTLE OF THE OHIO SHOOTS AN INDIAN'S SCALP OFF.

■ MIKE FINK AND PROUD JOE. Rough modes of life make rough-mannered men and women.

Never was tho truth of this proverb more fully demonstrated than in tho early history of the Ohio and Mississipi River valleys. Many of the most reckless frontiersmen of that time were descended from families the members of which, in England and France, had been noteworthy for their refinement; so soon did the life of constant hardship and Indian warfare transform the descendants of gentle-bred families into border pioneers, whose deeds were hardly less sanguinary than those of the savages with whom they fought.

A noted character among tho hunters, flatboat men, and Indian lighters of this region, eighty years aero, was Mike Fink— The Rob Roy of that" then perilous waterway from Pittsburg to New Orleans. For years his daring deeds and thrilling adventures were the tales most commonly heard round the camp fire, and in the rude little hamlets of tho Western wilderness.

Born almost within hearing of the warwhoop, and retired amid the bloody .and exciting scenes of border warfare, young Fink grew up as wild, unrestrained, and almost as ignorant as the panther of his native woods. Rude and reckless, he, was yet brave and open, equally ready tor a frolic or for a tight, and a hunter by instinct, hike many another pioneer youth, his title was the pride of Ins heart, and as he grew to middle age his wonderful feats with it gained for him a reputation as one of the finest marksmen in America. The wild, roving, and adventurous life of the flatboat men on the Western rivers soon attracted the youthful woodsman. In a short time his prowess as a boxer, wrestler, and dead shot had made him "captain" of one of those broad, low river crafts— the " iiatboat"—peculiar to the river navigation of the West. These odd barges, propelled mainly by the current, steered by means of long sweeps, and manned by crews of the dare-devil stamp, were, in those days, tho only method of freight transportation.

As captain of a flatboat, Mike soon became notorious on both rivers. " The Snappin' Turtle of the Ohio" and "The Snag of the Mississippi" were two of his well-known sobriquets; and ho remained "king of the river" up to the days when steamboats were introduced, when the prestige of the llatboat men ceased.

New Orleans was then the only outlet for the produce of the West, and it was not. till after weeks, sometimes months of toil and exposure, that the slow-moving boat from the Ohio could reach the end of its cruise of many hundred miles long. The now noisy channel of a mighty com mcrcc was then comparatively lonely and quiet. The settlements upon its banks were few and small ; hostile savages infested the thick cane-brakes and gloomy forests that line I the seeming interminable shores; and desperate outlaws lay in wait to rob descending craft of their valuable cargoes. If, will be seen that the calling of a boatman required not only its own particular skill and toil, but also the quickness and the nerve of a ready fighter. It. happened on one occasion, when Mike and his cumbersome iiatboat were creeping down the Ohio, that he had tied up, as was customary, at the then little settlement of Louisville, to deliver some freight. On the following morning seven or eight friendly Indians who were at the landing came aboard with much dignity and grave curiosity to inspect the white man's big canoe.

Among the number of the visitors was a stalwart Cherokee, whose haughty bearing had gained for him the nickname of " Proud Joe," ami who was conspicuous for his tightly-bound and gaudily decorated scalplock, "which stood erect to the height of nearly a foot upon his head. Mike, six feet high in his moccasins, his coal black hair surmounted by a bearskin cap, and his long rifle in his hand, surveyed the " red varmint:-"' with great disdain, and as they stalked past him to go ashore, impelled by the reckless spirit of mischief that had led him into rash conflicts so many times before, snatched a feather from Proud .loo's lofty but slender plume. The insulted Indian leaped ashore, and with Hashing eyes defiantly shook his list at the aggressive boatman, and Mike in return scornfully declared that ho would "cut oil' that varmint's scalp-lock closo to his head afore he left Kaintuck."

•Some minutes Liter, as the boat was about to start on its way down the river, Cherokee Joe was seen standing on the shore several hundred yards away, as stilt' as a statue, silently watching -Mike with such a look of hatred as only a savage can give. .Mike ordered his crew to push off from the shore. .As the boat swung into the stream, he cocked his rifle, took aim at the Indian, and out of mere bravado fired. To his own intense astonishment the Indian fell ! Indignant at so wanton a murder, the people were excitedly gathering to pursue the .-layer, when " Proud doe" astounded them by springing to his feet unhurt. Wild with passion and furious with the most vindictive rage, ho hurled his tomahawk with all his strength in the direction of the retreatinur boat, poured forth, in Cherokee, a short but fiery .stream of threats against the disappearing Mike, ami stabbed the very air in that direction with his hunting knife. Then burying hi.; face in his blanket, as if ashamed to meet the wondering gaze of the increasing crowd, ho hurriedly departed and was seen at that lauding no more.

His rage and humiliation were quickly understood by the settlers, versed in savage ways, for there lying upon the ground where he had stood was " Proud -Joe's" decorated scalp-lock, which the unerring rifleman, true to his reckless threat, had cut clear from the Indian's head !

It was a wonderful feat, and was soon heralded far and wide. Mike had made the ureal shot of his life, but in doing so he bad inflicted upon Joe the deadliest insult and the most terrible disgrace that an Indian could suffer. Jle had shorn " Proud Joe" of his scalp lock, the most sacred symbol of dignity and courage which the red man possessedtho one thing which a warrior would surrender only in death, for to lose it without losing his life stamped him as the most despised thing among his race coward.

Mike had made his most famous shot, but in the eye's of an Indian he had given tin pardonable offence. As an exploit it was murderous, as an insult, gratuitous. The reckless " Snappin' Turtle" and his queei old flatboat driftu I slowly down the river, passim; on their long and tedious route the dreaded refuge of the lam! pirates, Cave-in-rock. Then the boat floated by the unsettled and nameless heights of Vicksburg, wended its lonely way past melancholy forests draped in funereal moss, and after weeks of toil and exposure made a landing at a solitary spot not far above Natchez.

Regardless of possibly hostile surroundings, for they were now within the boundary of the Choetaws and the Cherokcos, tho rough but light-hearted boatmen fiddled and frolicked the evening away, and only went to rest when the moon rode high. Soundly the revellers slept, and tho old craft seemed as lifeless as the silent waters and the still more lonely shore. Then tho night silence was broken by a ring of ride shots, followed by a terrific war-whoop ! Tho slumbering "watch," on the deck of the flatboat, pierced by half-a-dozen bullets, groaned in his sleep and died. Mike and his crew of live or six boatmen had barely time to draw their knives ami spring out, when seven painted savages leaped on tho boat. White men and redskins instantly grappled, struggled, and fought with the quickness and ferocity of tigers. But the contest was brief. In two minutes the savages wore worsted. Three of the seven regained the shore. Four lay outstretched on the deck, and along with them two of the boatmen.

Immediately the boat was cut loose, and pushed out into the current. Determined to see what tribe the attacking savages belonged, Mike ordered the .bodies to be kept on board till morning. After sunrise ho examined their bloody blankets, and noticed the stylo of their beaded mocassins, their weapons, and their ornaments, but was undecided whether they were Choctaws or Cherokoes, until one of the bodies was turned over by a boatman, when all doubt was dispelled.

For an instant Mike stood transfixed with astonishment, then his loud exclamations of surprise brought tho crew around him in haste. Upon the lifeless warrior's head there was but a short, crisp stump of hair —the scalp-lock was gone. It was in truth the body of "Proud Joe," the haughty Cherokee, that was lying bofore them, and in that significant fact the boatmen,read a whole volume of deadly resolve. The dishonoured Indian had sought and obtained the assistance of his kinsmen. With the ferocity and perseverance of bloodhounds, the warriors had dogged the boat along the river. Day after day and week after week, from the time the boat left Louisville, they had followed Mike. Animated by a remorseless and tireless hatred, they kept up the pursuit, wading swamps, swimming rivers, risking capture by hostile tribes, threading more than a thousand miles of trackless territory, to avenge the insult of the scalp-lock. At, last the sought for opportunity for a night attack had presented itself, and they had struck for vengeance—but in vain. Mike's greatest shot thus cast the lives of three boatmen and four Cherokees. The wonderful but reckless rifleman — " the last of the llatboat men"— met a tragic fate himself, at length. He was murdered in a brawl with a gang of other equally lawless character?, It was a fitting end to an unworthy career.Toronto Truth.