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New Madrid Co |
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"Account by John Hardeman Walker
Transcription and notes, Susan E. Hough, U.S. Geological Survey,
Pasadena (July, 2000).
Among those who lived in the borders of the Mississippi Valley, in the
latter part of the year 1811, there are few, if any, who do not recollect
the tremendous earthquake that shook not only the whole of this great
valley, but also the vast mountains that partly surround it. The origin or
cause of this earthquake is supposed to be, oxine matter under the bed of
the St. Francis river, some thirty or forty miles from the Mississippi, west
of Madrid; and its materials, it appears, are not yet exhausted, as scarcely
a year passes, but that several shocks are felt in the neighborhood of
Madrid, from these explosions.
The following narrative I obtained from an old and very respectable friend
of mine, now living near the scene of its action. I will give it, as near as
I can recollect, in his own words:
"In the year 1809, in the thirteenth year of my age, my father with his
family emigrated from the State of Kentucky, to the south-eastern corner of
the state of Missouri, and located on the back of the Mississippi, in the
village of the Little Prairie. The inhabitants of that pleasant little
village were all French, except my father's family, (the most of them were
from Canada,) and scarcely any of them could speak a word of English.
However, there was no difficulty in getting acquainted with them, and we
soon became, like the rest of the villagers, all of one family. Now, to
point out the former location of the village of Little Prairie, would be
almost impossible; but it appears to me, that the bank of the river where
the village stood, has washed away near three quarters of a mile back, and
the bank on the other side, has made near the same distance towards where
the village once stood: so that, the happy scenes of my boyish days are
extinct. The chief employment of the French people consisted in raising
cattle, hunting, fishing, and trapping. In hunting, my soul delighted from
my childhood, and, being a Kentuckian, I was wedded to my rifle by nature. I
soon imagined myself a favorite in the village, learned a little of the
French language, and made a bosom friend of one Jean Baptiste Zebon.
Baptiste was a man of about twenty-two; he knew the ranges of the deer and
bear, and was expert with the rifle. He was also a famous trapper, which
sport, at that day, was lucrative, for beaver and otter were plenty; and
often, for two weeks at a time, Baptiste and myself were on hunting and
trapping excursions, alone by ourselves, without creating the least
uneasiness amongst the villagers at home. The last trapping expedition we
had, by me will never be forgotten. Forget it -- no! Its recollections, were
I to live till I was as old as Methuselah, I would carry to my grave.
Up to this time, we never had felt an earthquake, and were comparatively
happy. We had been told by an Indian, that about ten miles from the opposite
bank of the river, in Tennessee, there was a lake of some considerable
magnitude. This would be a new trapping ground to us, and Baptiste and
myself were not long in making up our minds on trying our luck in Tennessee.
Accordingly, about the 24th of December, 1811, (note 1) we shouldered our
rifles and our traps, and bid adieu to our friends, all except my father,
who accompanied us across the river, for the purpose of bringing back the
canoe. When the old man had bade us good bye, we took up our line of march
as directed, due east, until about two o'clock, P.M., when we struck upon
the margin of the little lake, and after reconnoitering it some hour or two,
we found it was, on the west bank, of a crescent form, about half a mile
wide, and something like three miles long. While surveying the lake, I shot
a large buck that had come to water; near that spot we selected a place for
a tent, and whilst Baptiste barked the trees, and built the tent, I was
engaged in taking care of the venison, taking off the skin and saddles, and
jerking the meat. This employment consumed the remainder of the day. Our
hard day's travel through the heavy cane-brakes had given us an appetite for
our suppers, and after toasting our feet, and roasting our fresh meat over
the fire, and eating for about an hour, we wrapped ourselves in our blankets
for a snooze. It was some time before I could sleep. It was natural my
anticipations were great--my fortune was made on the banks of our new
discovered little lake, and my castle was built high in the air several
times before I could get asleep. Next morning, we were up before the sun,
and eat breakfast. This little lake had evidently been, some day or other, a
part of the river, and it was as full of beaver and otter, as any lake I had
ever seen, crawling around its banks, and swimming like flocks of geese in
the water, until nine o'clock in the morning. But to my story. The most of
this day was consumed in setting traps for the night, and when night came we
eat our suppers and went to sleep, and slept soundly until about four
o'clock in the morning, when we were awakened by a noise like distant
thunder, and a trembling of the earth, which brought us both to our feet.
The dash of the water against the bank of the lake, and rattling of the
limbs in the tree-tops--now and then the falling of a dry branch in the
water, or near us on the ground--all these things first led me to believe
there was a storm approaching. But no. There was not a breath of air
stirring. What was it? was the inquiry.--It soon became still. My friend
said--`may be, he is de shake of de earth--may be de whirlwind!' An
earthquake I feared it was, and the mention of it ran through my soul with
terror. Now imagine my feelings. But a boy, scarce fifteen years old, ten
miles from a human being, except my friend, and in a dark night. Baptiste
said--`we will be down again, it was nothing but the whirlwind.' I knew he
was only trying to pacify me; and, to please him, I turned in again; but
there was no sleep for either of us.
The thoughts of being in a wilderness amongst wild beasts, and the terrors
of the earthquake, ran in my head for near an hour, and I really thought it
would never be day. At length, against my companion's will, I got up and
built a fire, and day began to dawn. My mind soon began to freshen on our
traps, and when about to rouse Baptiste, came the next shock. It was awful!
Like the other--first, a noise in the west, like heavy thunder, then the
earth came rolling towards us, like a wave on the ocean, in long seas, not
less than fifteen feet high. The tops of the largest sycamores bending as if
they were coming to the ground--again, one rises as if it were to
re-instate, and bending the other way, it breaks in twain, and comes to the
ground with a tremendous crash. Now the scene became awful in the extreme.
Trees were falling in every direction--some torn up by their roots, other
breaking off above the ground, and limbs and branches of all sizes flying
about us, and the earth opening, as it were, to receive us, in gaps
sometimes fifteen feet wide--then it would close with the wave. The water of
our little lake was fast emptying itself in these openings, and as soon as
they would close, it would spout high in the air--and soon, as far as I
could see, with the alternate wave of the earth and water of the lake, there
was a crashing of timber, and spouting of water. At one time, I would be
splashing about in the water, and then holding a tree top, until the shake
began to subside, when I espied a spot of ground above water, and in
attempting to reach it I got into a crevice, where I lost bottom, but being
somewhat amphibious, I at length reached the place. The earth now became
quieter; but my thoughts were, that the world was at an end, and this time
and place was selected by me to offer up a supplication to my God. With
fervency I dropped on my knees, raised up my eyes and hands toward heaven,
when my friend bawled out, at the top of his voice, `stop!--what for you
speak to de God now? why you no speak to de God three months?--come
back--take care de b-r-a-n-c-h?' The earth and lake becoming still quieter,
my friend commenced a lecture. We were both yet alive and unhurt, and
thinking the earth was everywhere destroyed except the spot where we stood,
says Baptiste, `if de God kill all de rest, and leave us, me no want to
stay--and if de god kill us, and live all the rest, he not de God me take
him for.' My friend seemed much braver than myself; but more than once,
during the worst of the shake, saw him raise his eyes toward the heaven, and
say, `sacre bon Dieu! Senior!'--then bawl out, `take care of de
b-r-a-n-c-h!'
The shock had now subsided, and everything had become still; the day had
fairly dawned, and the change of the scenery was visible. The whole forest
seemed as if an awful hurricane had completely destroyed it. The soft
alluvial earth was opened in many rents of great depth, in which our little
lake had completely lost itself. What was to be done, was the next question.
Shall we seek our home--or have we a home? Our camp was completely
demolished, one of our guns, and all our meat and ammunition, flint, punk,
steel, and blankets, lost in a deep crevice, and our bodies wet and cold.
Something must be done, or we will freeze. So without much deliberation we
bent our course westward, and after climbing over the tree tops that had
fallen, and scrambling around cracks in the earth, so wide that we could not
leap over them through mud and cane-breaks, now worse than ever, until near
sundown we reached the bank of the Mississippi, immediately opposite our
once beloved village. Hungry as we were, not having eat a particle since the
night before, our hearts leaped with joy. But my friend's countenance
changed, as we were seated on a log, surveying the opposite side of the
river--he turned pale as death. The cause was soon visible. No smoke arose
from the chimneys of our habitations, and not a single human being could be
seen. A solitary cow lowed as she stood alone, deserted by her thousand
companions, and all else seemed desolate. Fatigued and hungry, we wandered
up and down the shore, gazing on the other side for the appearance of some
human being, until dark night--none approached. Our clothes were not yet
thoroughly dried, and a cold night approaching, we were chilled and hungry;
we had no means of lighting a fire, and again death seemed to stare us in
the face. Shall we lie down and freeze, or stand up till we famish for want
of food? It was but little difference which. However, one gleam of hope yet
remained. If we lived until the next morning's sun, contrive to build a raft
of floating logs, and with sticks paddle across the river. To do this it
would be necessary to build our raft a mile further up the river, so that we
could make the landing on the other side. On this we resolved, and as we
were compelled to keep ourselves in motion to keep awake, and from freezing,
we were on the spot a dozen times before day. That was the longest night I
ever experienced. The last shock of the earth the morning previous seemed to
me to keep the ground vibrating half an hour, but I suppose the whole time
did not consume more than four minutes. But the night ensuing seemed as if
it were three months long. Still imagining some awful change of the world,
my friend several times remarked, `there would be no day!' But the day did
come, and, with the little strength we had left, we set ourselves to work;
but I should judge it was near noon before the raft was in readiness; and
when in the act of shoving it out in the stream, a man made his appearance
on the river bank, at the village. Baptiste hailed--we were too far--he did
not hear him. We left the raft, and ran down the shore nearly opposite to
him, and hailed again. The man seemed to notice us--but without answering,
he ran from us as if the wolves were after him. A man had been in sight-- a
canoe was under the bank near him--but he was gone! The raft was now our
only alternative. Here again we were disappointed. The raft, as poor a
make-shift as it was, had gone a-drift. We were both too much exhausted to
swim in the cold water after it, and all hope from it was inevitably lost.
We walked to another drift pile, but were too weak to even attempt another
raft, and we sat ourselves down with our eyes towards the village. `When in
de tar,' said my friend, `and got plenty money, then me got plenty
friend--sacre! when me in the tar, with de darguin, then me want no plenty
friend--me want de friend now--me want him bring de canoe.' During this
conversation, I picked up a honey-suckle, had split it apart, and was about
to devour it. Baptiste hollered at me, knocked it out of my hands, saying,
`what for you want to die and leave me by myself!' He thought that it was
poison, and that I wanted to destroy myself. But a man again appeared, we
hailed him at the top of our voices; he answered, descended the river bank,
launched the canoe, and came over for us. It was my father. He informed us
that on account of the shake, the inhabitants had all left the village, and
encamped some two miles back in the prairie, and that the village was a mass
of ruins--that some two hours before, they had selected one of their
Frenchmen to repair to the village, and report its condition--that he had
returned at full jump, out of breath, and the first words they had got out
of him were, that he had seen a ghost or the devil on the opposite side of
the river. This information reminded my father of us, and he accordingly
came in search of us.-- The village, sure enough, was all a heap of ruins,
but there had been no lives lost. We made ourselves comparatively
comfortable in our camps for a few days, until everything was in readiness
for a grand march. Often did I endeavor to give a history of my frightful
adventures to my friends, but was as often interrupted by their story of the
earthquake, so that I could scarcely get a word edgeways. We all kept
company as far as New Madrid; here, my father with his family took leave of
the French people, crossed the river at the Iron Banks, and once more in
Kentucky, we settled down for the winter. From New Madrid, the French
preceded northward to St. Louis, and the greater part of them went back to
Canada. Our stock of cattle was very large, and the most of them were left
behind at the Little Prairie. They fared as well through the winter, without
us, as if we had been with them, as the prairie grass was high, and there
was plenty of cane.
I left my father in the spring, and returned to Little Prairie, and found
the stock in good order; and being the natural heir to Little Prairie, I
have made it my home ever since. I afterwards met Jean Baptiste Lebon, in
the latter part of the last war, above St. Louis. He was in the army. On
meeting, we both wept with joy. Our time together was short; but he promised
faithfully, when his time of service had expired, he would join me at the
Little Prairie. I have never heard a whimper of him since."
These are the families that I am researching in the area. I have been
working on them for 35 years now and still haven't found as much information
as I would like to have on them.
Our direct ancestry is the family of John Walker and Mary Webb Farris Walker
My husband is descended from their son, Federal Walker, brother to John
Hardeman and their other children.
Federal Walker married a Sarah Dunn and I do believe some of her family were
in the New Madrid area, but I have had a hard time finding exact proof of
that.
Our family names for posting are as follows:
Walker, John ca 1753 1815 Married 25 Dec 1792 spouse: Mary Webb Farris
ca 1772 1778 ca 1830
Walker, Malinda 10 Jun 1793-31 Aug 1856 Married ? spouse: Dr. Robert Doyne
Dawson ¬28 Jun 1790 - 06 Apr 1843
Walker, John Hardeman 13 Feb 1794 - 30 Apr 1860 Married 06 Dec 1832
spouse: Sarah C. Hill 09 May 1798 - 08 Mar 1870 [Perhaps had a prior spouse
with other children but I have not seen documented proof of this]
Walker, Federal 24 Aug 1796 - 01 Sep 1878 Married 06 Apr 1823 spouse:
Sarah Dunn 26 Jun 1800 - 05 Aug 1868
Walker, Permelia/Pamelia 1802 ? [died after Aft. 02 Dec 1837 when she
signed a deed in settlement of her father's estate] Married ? spouse: John
Martin
Walker, Thomas Jefferson Bef. 1810 ca Apr 1844 Married 15 Mar 1834 spouse:
Elenor M. Pemberton 14 Aug 1814 - 14 Sep 1854
Walker, Ebenezer Bef, 1813 - ?(probably died in New Madrid Co.) Married ?
spouse: Evalina _____
Walker, George Washington Bet. 1813 1815
Walker, Mary Permelia 23 Jul 1836 - 10 Apr 1887 Married Abt. 1854 spouse:
Rev. George W. Bushey 05 May 1823 - 01 Sep 1866
Dawson, Robert Doyne ¬28 Jun 1790 - 06 Apr 1843 Married Malinda Walker (I
have little else about her available to me at this time)
Dawson, Pamelia Elizabeth Married William Weston Waters
Dawson, Thomas 1811 1837 Married Agate LaForge 1811 - 1843
Dawson, Laura Amanda 1829 1890 Married Alfred Antoine LaForge 1819 1887
Martin, John Married Permelia Walker 1802 - ?
Waters, William Weston 13 Dec 1824 - 21 Jul 1885 Married ? spouse: Pamelia
Elizabeth Dawson
Transcription and notes, Susan E. Hough, U.S. Geological Survey, Pasadena (July, 2000). NOTE:I have permission to post: June 08, 2008 (Don E. Wright) Return To History of Southeast, Missouri A Narrative of Its Historical Progress These pages are a collection of genealogical information to help you research families in White County IL Included you will find historical information, county resources, queries and much much more. Many volunteers have contributed information to these pages. Their names will appear on the pages and information they have provided. These pictures may not be copied or used in any publication or for any other purpose without the contributor's written consent. This is a free site. There is not a charge to view these pages. | |
