Chapter 2

Louis, spent a short
time at the Cave in 1836, while on a steamboat trip gathering
material for his book, _The Far West_. He gives some of the history
of the outlaws of “Cave-Inn-Rock” and then describes the Cave and
the Island. He says the place furnishes “a scene of natural beauty
worthy an Inman’s pencil” and that “if I mistake not an engraving
of the spot has been published: a ferocious-looking personage,
pistol in hand, crouched at the entrance, eagerly watching a
descending boat.”

Maximilian, Prince of Wied-Neuwied, writes May 19, 1833: “We
embarked on the Paragon steamboat at Shawneetown ... and after
passing Cave-in-Rock Island, a long wooded island, we glided
past Cave-in-Rock, a cavern which has been drawn by Lesueur.”
Lesueur’s drawing was made about 1825. It is an interior view
looking out over the river and conveys a good idea of the Cave’s
size and form. However, the opening to the small upper cavity and
the leaning pole for climbing into it are placed a little too far
to the left.«1»

Maximilian was accompanied by his artist, Charles Bodmer, who,
during the course of his travels in North America, made eighty-one
pictures, all of which were published in 1843 in the _Maximilian
Atlas_. Most of these drawings pertain to the life of the Indians
of the Upper Missouri, and stand today as the first and best record
of the costumes of these tribes. Among the subjects presented is
his Cave-in-Rock picture, one of the two early views of the Cave
now available. Bodmer probably drew it from memory. It shows a
landscape interesting in itself, but it is an absolutely misleading
presentation of the actual scene. From no point or angle does the
view appear as drawn by him, or even suggest such a scene. By the
ordinary working of nature no such changes could have been brought
about in many centuries. The mouth of the Cave is near the lower
end of a long bluff of almost uniform height and opposite the lower
end of Cave-in-Rock Island. A camera picture of the lower end of
this bluff, made in 1917, appears among the illustrations in this
book. Bodmer’s view places the opening in a short bluff that is
more or less cone-shaped and opposite or above the head of an
island. When high water reaches the mouth of the Cave, as is shown
by Bodmer, then Cave-in-Rock Island is submerged many feet and its
banks cannot possibly be seen. This picture occurs in a number
of books, but without any comments on its gross inaccuracy. Some
reproducers have taken the liberty of adding a setting sun in the
background.

In 1916, J. Bernhard Alberts, of Louisville, made an
impressionistic painting of the mouth of the Cave. His painting is
true to the scene as it was at the time of his visit. He also drew
a pencil sketch showing a general view of the interior with the
inner edge of the mouth in the immediate foreground, the artist’s
point of view being from just outside the mouth.

Piracy and Rough Life on the River

It is not clear when Cave-in-Rock first became the headquarters of
the criminals who flourished on the Ohio, and preyed upon primitive
commerce and travel between Pittsburgh and the Lower Mississippi.
Shortly after the Revolution was under way, renegades from eastern
communities, corrupt stragglers from the American army, and
villains who had had their brutal training in western wilds, began
to seek in the Ohio valley refuge from the more orderly and well
settled communities. Samuel Mason, who had been an officer in the
Continental army, converted the cavern into an inn as early as
1797. While he occupied the Cave, and a few years thereafter, it
was known as “Cave-Inn-Rock.” It was ideally located. Every passing
boat must reveal itself to those in the Cave who had a long, clear
view up and down the river. A lookout could detect boats long
before boatmen could perceive the Cave. The bold beauty of the
bluff made it pleasant for the boats to run in near the sharply
shelving shore, and many travelers were thus simply and easily
delivered into the hands of the banditti. As an inn, where drink
and rest could be had, it decoyed them; as a scene for shrouded
crime it was perfect.

The earliest travelers on the western rivers floated or propelled
themselves with paddles and oars in small, clumsy craft. The Indian
canoe or pirogue was heavy, but was managed with skill by those
accustomed to its use. With the growing stream of settlers and the
increasing number of settlements along the Ohio and Mississippi,
there arose a necessity for larger craft that would bear heavier
burdens. This brought the flatboat era covering the period from
1795 to 1820--that quarter of a century known as the Golden Age
of Flatboating. During that era river piracy was at its height.
The lighter boats, pirogues, skiffs, and batteaux were to the
clumsy rafts and flatboats bearing heavy cargoes what submarines
and torpedo boats have been to the heavier ships in later warfare.
Inland piracy had its advantage in using the small craft on dark
nights for sudden descents and escapes.

In the midst of this period the stately steamboat age began
its development. It was inaugurated in 1811 when the first
steam-propelled “water-walker” made its laborious and astonishing
way from Pittsburgh to New Orleans. By 1820 steamboats had become
a dependable factor in traffic, and were, to river travel, what
the railroad train was later to become to the slow stagecoach
and freight wagon. It was inevitable that under steamboat
influence flatboats of all types--arks, broadhorns, Orleans boats,
keel-boats, and flat-bottomed barges--would follow the primitive
pirogues, skiffs, and batteaux into retirement, except for
neighborhood use. River piracy waned with the conditions it preyed
upon, but not until about 1830 did it cease utterly.

In society, as in nature, everything develops with opportunity and
disappears according to necessity. In the primitive age of river
craft many travelers were captured or killed by Indians bent on
revenge or pillage. These marauders were sometimes led by white
renegades. Later, pioneers floating down the Ohio or Mississippi on
flatboats came in contact with comparatively few savages, but were
exposed to a far more daring and dangerous enemy in the form of
river pirates--white men, many of them descendants of supposedly
civilized European families. These disappeared as the population
increased. Then ensued the reign of the more diplomatic river
pirates--the professional gamblers who, for a half century, used
cards and other gaming devices as instruments with which to rob
those who ventured into their society.

Such were the types of craft and men operating upon and infesting
the rivers in the early days. The country through which these boats
moved was not the country we see today. Changes in the shapes and
channels of the rivers have been numerous, only the rock-defined
reaches preserving their original contours. Appearances in detail
have greatly changed. The wonderful unbroken forests are gone.
Where they once stood are now fields and farms or cut-over forests;
every few miles there is a town. The river channels once mysterious
and uncertain are now carefully charted.

Early voyageurs going down the river had, of course, no guides and
there were no known marks to indicate their approach to any of the
features of the river as it wound through the wild, uninhabited
country. The boatmen who came afterwards carrying maps rudely
scratched, found them unsatisfactory because of inaccuracies or
lack of detail. Not until a handbook was made available, after
some years of careful compilation of river features, could the
uninitiated navigate the large rivers with any degree of safety.«2»

The numerous charts in _The Navigator_ show the curves, islands,
sandbars, eddies, and channels, and mark the location of towns and
many other places of significance. The accompanying text contains
instructions of value to the boatman, and historical data of
interest. It is curious, however, that no section of either the
Mississippi or Ohio is designated as one where outlaws were likely
to be encountered--not even Cave-in-Rock nor the mouth of Cache
River, which were long considered the most dangerous resorts on the
Ohio. In every edition of _The Navigator_ about a page is devoted
to a description of the Cave and instructions to boatmen passing
it, but there is no reference to its grim history. Zadok Cramer
was evidently a practical man, with no eye to the speculative. It
was not until 1814 that he added a few lines bearing on the Cave’s
“economic” history:

“This cavern sometimes serves as a temporary abode for those
wanting shelter, in case of shipwreck, or other accident, which
happen on the river near it. Families have been known to reside
here tolerably comfortable from the northern blasts of winter. The
mouth of this cave was formerly sheltered, and nearly hid by some
trees growing in front of it, but the rude axe has leveled them
to the earth and the cavern is exposed to the open view of the
passenger. Emigrants from the states, twenty-seven years ago used
to land here and wagon their goods across the Illinois country, it
not being more than one hundred and twenty miles from this place to
Kaskaskia on the Mississippi.”

The Cave, of course, had more than criminal uses. How on one
occasion it served as a “temporary abode for those wanting shelter”
is recorded in _The American Pioneer_, published in 1842. In this
magazine Dr. Samuel P. Hildreth, under the title of “History of a
Voyage from Marietta to New Orleans in 1805,” gives an interesting
account of the schooner Nonpareil and her voyage south, based on
data furnished him by members of her crew. The boat was built at
Marietta and started down the river April 21, 1805. She was a
sea-going vessel intended to run on the lakes near New Orleans. The
captain doubtless steered his course by a copy of _The Navigator_.
We quote from Hildreth’s account of what the crew found in 1805 at
the well-known lair of outlaws:

“As the Nonpareil approached near the mouth of this dreaded cave,
a little after twilight, they were startled at seeing the bright
blaze of a fire at its entrance. Knowing of its former fame as the
den of a band of robbers, they could not entirely suppress the
suspicion it awoke in their minds of its being again occupied for
the same purpose. Nevertheless, as they had previously determined
not to pass this noted spot without making it a visit, they
anchored the schooner a little distance from the shore and landed
in the skiff. Being well armed with pistols they marched boldly
up to the cavern where, instead of being greeted with the rough
language and scowling visages of a band of robbers, they found the
cave occupied by smiling females and sportive children. A part of
the women were busily occupied with their spinning wheels, while
others prepared the evening meal. Their suspicions were not,
however, fully removed by all these appearances of domestic peace,
still thinking that the men must be secreted in some hidden corner
of the cave ready to fall on them unawares. On a little further
conversation they found the present occupants of the dreaded cave
consisted of four young emigrant families from Kentucky going to
settle in Illinois. The females were yet in the bloom of life.
Their husbands had bought or taken up lands a few miles back from
the river, and after moving their families and household goods to
this spot had returned to their former residences to bring out
their cattle, in the meantime leaving their wives and children in
the occupancy of the cave till their return.

“Having brought, with their spinning wheels and looms, an abundance
of flax, the women spent the weary days of their husbands’ absence
in the useful employment of spinning. A large fire in the mouth of
the cave gave cheerfulness to the gloomy spot and enabled them,
at night, to proceed with their labors, while its bright rays
were reflected upon the looms, beds, and household utensils which
lay piled up along the side of the cave. By day the sun afforded
them light, the mouth of the cave being capacious and elevated,
while the roof sheltered them from the rain. They were in daily
expectation of the arrival of their husbands, when they would move
out on to their farms in company.

“A little conversation soon dissipated all suspicions of harm from
the minds of their visitors ... and, borrowing from them a torch,
they explored the hidden recesses of the cave. At this time no
vestige of its former occupants remained but a few scattered barrel
staves, and the traces of their fires against the blackened sides
of the rock. The walls, even at that early day, were thickly scored
with the names of former visitors, to which they hastily added
their own, and thousands have no doubt been added since. Bidding a
warm farewell to this singular and solitary community, they entered
their boat, greatly wondering at the courage and confidence of
these lonely females. Their surprise, however, in a manner subsided
when they reflected that they were the daughters of Kentucky and
from the land of Daniel Boone.”

The Nonpareil experienced no trouble with river pirates, but was
wrecked during a storm on the Mississippi and never reached her
proposed destination. So, in one form or another, every flatboat
and other early river craft suffered more or less trouble. History
records many robberies and other misfortunes, but its pages also
show that, notwithstanding the numerous trials and tribulations,
early river life, rough as it was, was more of a romance than
a tragedy. Going down the Ohio and Mississippi proved, in many
instances, “easy sailing” compared to the flatboatman’s overland
trip north over the Natchez Trace and other wilderness roads
infested with highwaymen.

The usual plan of the river robbers was to station one or two of
their men and women at some prominent place on shore to hail a
passing boat. These decoys pleaded to be taken aboard, claiming
they were alone in the wilderness and wished to go to some
settlement further down the river, or that they desired to purchase
certain necessities which they lacked. If the boat was thus enticed
ashore, the crew saw their cargo unloaded, and plundered, or beheld
their craft continue its course down the river in the hands of the
enemy, themselves held as hostages or murdered.

Boat wreckers were another common source of great danger. Under one
pretext or another they managed to get aboard the boat and scuttle
it near a place where their confederates were prepared to make
an attack. Or, like Colonel Fluger, they waited until they found
a boat tied along the bank and then bored holes in the bottom or
dug out the caulking. When the ill-fated boat began to sink, the
fellow-wreckers rushed to the rescue and appropriated the goods
for their own use, killing part or all the crew if necessary.

Then, as now, a number of dangerous channels existed in the Ohio
and Mississippi. They were designated as such in _The Navigator_.
Near the head of some of them lived reliable settlers who made
it a business to pilot boats through for pay. Pirates frequently
succeeded in passing themselves off as trustworthy local pilots.
Boats turned over to such men for safe steering were usually
grounded and immediately thereafter delivered into the hands of
outlaws in waiting.

One of the dangerous channels, against which voyageurs were warned
by _The Navigator_, ran from the head of Walker’s Bar (a bar
beginning about two miles below Cave-in-Rock) down to Tower Rock,
and from there extended to the foot of Hurricane Island, a total
distance of about eight miles. The author of the river guide,
after devoting considerable space to directions for navigating
this channel and avoiding the Hurricane Bars, adds a suggestion:
“Just below the Cave, on the right bank, there is a person who is
sometimes employed to pilot boats through this serpentine channel,
and it is better for a stranger to pay a dollar or two for this
purpose, than run the risk of grounding on either one or the other
of these bars in low water. When the water is high there is no
occasion for a director.”

The outlaws at Cave-in-Rock turned to their advantage the
suggestion published in _The Navigator_. About ten miles above the
Cave, near Battery Rock, or on what has long since been called
the Jonathan Brown Old Place, the robbers stationed a man who
offered to pilot, for a small sum, single boats or small fleets
through this “serpentine channel.” He explained that the person
referred to by _The Navigator_ as living “just below the Cave”
was out on a visit and would not return for a week or more. In the
event the first man failed, another, standing ready a few miles
further down at Ford’s Ferry, offered his services. The pilot who
succeeded in being employed grounded the boat in front of the
Cave if, by the time he reached the place, he judged the cargo
was worth the risk and the crew could be overpowered. If more
time was required, he guided the boat to the head of Hurricane
Island. There it was either wrecked or taken safely through the
channel, the procedure depending on whether or not he judged a
profitable robbery possible. Boatmen who declined to take a pilot
aboard at Battery Rock or Ford’s Ferry were likely, if the water
was comparatively low, to inquire for a director “just below the
Cave.” The man procured there, whether a member of the Cave band
or not, invariably guided the boat safely through. Thus by helping
to maintain one reputable and reliable place near the Cave for
procuring the services of a pilot, the robbers experienced little
trouble in trapping the boats they selected for that purpose.

Although most of the prospective victims were given little
consideration until after they had come within ten or twenty miles
of the Cave, in a number of instances the river pirates began
setting a trap for a boat long before it arrived at Shawneetown.

The fact that the victims were piloted to the Cave by certain
members of a band, or enticed into the place by some other means
for the sole purpose of robbery, is recorded by many early writers;
none of them, however, gives any details. All authors who touch on
the Cave’s history publish statements based on what other men and
women heard other people had experienced while in the hands of
the outlaws. Only one instance has been found in which the victim
himself (Dr. Charles H. Webb) recited to an author the details of
how he was decoyed to the Cave and how he escaped from the men then
occupying the place. The old flatboat robbers and flatboat wreckers
left no first-hand accounts of the methods they employed.

The year 1788 roughly marks the beginning of the big inflow
of settlers into the region west of the Alleghenies, also the
beginning of counterfeiting and other outlawry at Cave-in-Rock.
Many travelers and home-seekers followed the trails and went into
the interior afoot, on horseback, or in wagons; others took the
river to some river point and either settled there, or proceeded
overland to an inland section. Thus, by “long lines of wagons”
and “great fleets of boats” the middle West became settled. In
the meantime many a small party traveled alone over the trails or
drifted down the river in a single boat or in a small fleet, into
the new and sparsely populated country, and became easy prey for
highway robbers or river pirates who were likely to appear at any
time and in any disguise.«3»

The earliest connection of the Cave with the name of any outlaw
who became famous was in 1797, when Samuel Mason, of Revolutionary
fame and hideous fate, seems to have occupied it as a main trap for
his carefully worked out scheme of river piracy on a large scale.
He erected a great rude sign on the river bank near the mouth of
the Cave, proclaiming to every passerby that his “Liquor Vault and
House for Entertainment” was open to the public. Many captains and
their crews and many flatboat passengers were lured to it. After
Mason and his family left for the South, most of the succeeding
bands, during their necessarily short stay, operated a gambling and
drinking place on the same principle.

It was a common practice among outlaws frequently to change not
only their headquarters but their names. While at Cave-in-Rock
Mason was also known as “Wilson.” Thomas Ashe, who wrote about
it, probably did not know that the Wilson he described was Samuel
Mason. Among the various men who appeared after the departure of
Samuel Mason, alias “Wilson,” was one Jim Wilson. Whether Jim
Wilson was his real name is not known. However, between Samuel
Mason as “Wilson” and a later man known as “Jim Wilson” there
has been more or less confusion for almost a century, especially
in tradition. In 1897 William Courtney Watts wrote a historical
romance, _Chronicles of a Kentucky Settlement_, in which he
presents James Ford, of Ford’s Ferry notoriety, as “James Wilson.”
James Ford was in no way connected with Mason or with Wilson, but
his presentation under the fictitious name of “James Wilson” had
added to the already existing confusion.

After James Ford’s death, which occurred in 1833--and many years
before Watts applied the name of “James Wilson” to him--a writer
published a sketch of the career of one Jim Wilson at the Cave.
This sketch is here recapitulated, not as a story that can be
verified in all its details by history, but as a semi-historical
tale which may convey a better idea of the methods, life, and fate
of the Cave’s outlaws than formal history. Only one who will make a
study of the Cave’s past--from the available authenticated records
down to some of its absurd traditions--will recognize this story
as a picture in which facts fairly divide the scene with fiction,
and painted in colors that bring joy to the hearts of readers of
dime novels. When and by whom it was written or first published has
not been ascertained. It apparently was not written before 1836,
for the author, in his introduction, attempts a description of the
Cave as it appeared that year. The writer evidently had read Thomas
Ashe’s account published in 1808, and was also familiar with some
of the Cave’s printed history and oral traditions. The story was
probably first published in an old magazine or newspaper. In 1893
it appeared, anonymously and without credit, in the _Crittenden
Press_, of Marion, Kentucky. From that weekly it was copied by many
newspapers in the lower Ohio Valley, and is now preserved, under
various titles, in many a scrap book.

This old story is interesting because it was written when stories
of the Cave were still fresh. Inaccuracies and confusions of names
and dates may have crept in, but it remains the first concise and
inherently reasonable account of how the Cave was first occupied as
a den by river criminals. In the presentation of the usual method
of the Cave’s renegades, it matters very little whether the first
of those desperate captains of crime bore the name of Wilson,
Mason, or Harpe. In this case it seems clearly the story of Samuel
Mason about 1797. The names they assumed might vary with every
flatboat or raft that passed. An alias is ever the shield of the
criminal. The story describes not only a method actually employed
by the Cave’s outlaws for many years, but also a method by which
the career of more than one of these river pirates was, as we shall
see later, so tragically terminated. The story runs, as follows:

“About the year 1809, one Jim Wilson, a flatboatman, while passing
down the Ohio, was overtaken by a terrific storm. He steered his
boat under the shelter of a cliff. On landing he observed the
opening of the cave. He was attracted by the commodious rooms with
dry ceilings and sanded floors, and resolved that on his return to
Pittsburgh he would bring his family hither.

“In the following spring Wilson’s boat again landed at the foot
of the cliff. This time he was not alone, but with him came his
wife, five children, two slaves, and William Hall, the great
counterfeiter. His boat was loaded with provisions, stores,
liquors, and arms, which he had stolen from the government
warehouse at Fort Pitt on the night before his departure. The great
cave was soon transformed into a dwelling and tavern large enough
to accommodate several travelers.

“Wilson’s object for landing and establishing himself in so
remote and romantic headquarters will be seen hereafter. A sign
was planted at the water’s edge bearing these words: ‘Wilson’s
Liquor Vault and House for Entertainment.’ This novel sign had a
magnetic effect upon the boatmen who were almost daily passing en
route to southern markets, with flatboats loaded with produce.
The boat crews were generally jovial fellows, fond of rum, rest,
and merriment, and hardly a boat passed without stopping. Many
were the guests at Wilson’s Tavern; thieves and gamblers stopped
off here and in a few months the place became infamous for its
licentiousness and blasphemy.

“Wilson had been for many years a deep-dyed criminal and only came
here that he might vary his crimes, and have a wider field for
operation. Out of his guests he soon formed a band of the most
noted robbers, murderers, and counterfeiters that, for two years,
had no parallel in modern history. Their headquarters were at the
Cave, but they had many stations along the Ohio above and below,
which were maintained for the purpose of preventing suspicion being
cast upon the genial landlord at the Cave. The principal station
was at Hurricane Island, where forty-five men were stationed all
the time.

“Each boat that landed at the Cave was captured and such of the
crew as would not join Wilson’s Gang were allowed to drift on to
Hurricane Island where they were again captured and the remainder
of the crew foully murdered and their bodies cast into the Ohio.
With new pilots and crews the boats and cargoes were taken to New
Orleans, and converted into cash which was conveyed to the Cave
through the wilderness of Kentucky and Tennessee.

“Many boats loaded with valuable cargoes left port on the upper
Ohio and its tributaries, under the guidance of experienced and
trustworthy officers. The officers and crews never returned. No
returns for sales were ever received. It soon became a mystery that
so many honorable men never came back to pay over the proceeds,
and to tell the perils of their voyage. It was many months before
any serious suspicions were created. After that it was found that
the cargoes were disposed of by entirely different crews from
those entrusted with them. There was but limited postal or other
communication in those days--letters of special importance were
carried by messengers who often fell into the hands of Wilson’s
men. Thereby they kept posted and, by changing the communication
to suit their purposes, and forwarding them by different carriers,
often thwarted the attempt of justice, and kept their whereabouts
enveloped in mystery for many months. ‘But it is a long lane that
hath no turn.’ It was finally ascertained that no tidings could be
had of any boat after it had passed certain points on the Ohio near
Wilson’s Tavern.

“A meeting of the Pittsburgh shippers was called and it was
determined to ferret out the mystery. This would be a shrewd piece
of detective work which would be attended by many dangers. A large
reward was offered for information as to the exact location of
the robber band. John Waller, a determined and ambitious man of
Maysville, Kentucky, resolved to secure the reward or perish in
the attempt. He was furnished with a cargo contributed by various
shippers along the Ohio, and with five trusted companions he set
out early in the spring of 1810. They floated with the current
many days. At last one evening they came in sight of the Cave, and
were attracted by the novel sign and also the presence of several
females on the bank, who made gestures for them to land. They held
a hasty consultation and resolved to land; a few sweeps of the
steering oar brought them to the foot of the cliff.”

That which follows this clear description of ordinary circumstances
is evidently a mixture of fact and fiction that represents the
imaginative style of the day. It is quite plain that the author
himself had not personally visited the Cave, but had relied upon
the fictions of Thomas Ashe or the reflections from Ashe’s account
that had gained circulation and belief. He accepts the mythical
“upper cave” and has the Cave divided off into rooms and a
“council chamber,” no relics of which have ever been reported by
any matter-of-fact observer from that time to this. The leader,
“Jim Wilson,” he converts into a semi-savage with matted and
tangled hair and beard, who is yet a shrewd trader and an orator of
no mean power for his day. On the occasion of the initiation of new
recruits Jim Wilson delivers a romantic and argumentative speech
that is equal to the best fiction of the times.

The story narrates graphically how Waller and his men were overawed
and compelled, under fear, to agree to join the robber band;
how they were received into it with melodramatic ceremonies and
then were oath-bound, but not fully trusted; how they made their
escape--the savage and astute robbers being, of course, fooled for
the exigencies of the event; how the Waller force combined with
its waiting reinforcements, returned, captured Jim Wilson and then
went to Hurricane Island and destroyed that part of the band; and
how eventually “Jim Wilson’s head was severed, his body buried ...