From Canal Boy to President; Or, the Boyhood and Manhood of James A. Garfield
"You won't suit us," was the brusque reply. "You come from the country, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You look like it. Well, I will give you a piece of advice."
"What is that, sir?"
"Go back there. You are better suited to country than the city. I daresay you would make a very good hand on a farm. We need different sort of boys here."
This was discouraging. James didn't know why he would not do for a city store or office. He was strong enough, and he thought he knew enough, for he had not at present much idea of what was taught at seminaries of a higher grade than the district schools he had been accustomed to attend.
"Well," he said to himself, "I've done what mother asked me to do. I've tried to get a place here, and there doesn't seem to be a place for me. After all, I don't know but I'd better go to Ohio."
Cleveland was not of course a sea-port, but it had considerable lake trade, and had a line of piers.
James found his way to the wharves, and his eye lighted up as he saw the sloops and schooners which were engaged in inland trade. He had never seen a real ship, or those schooners and sloops would have had less attraction for him.
In particular his attention was drawn to one schooner, not over-clean or attractive, but with a sea-faring look, as if it had been storm-tossed and buffeted. Half a dozen sailors were on board, but they were grimed and dirty, and looked like habitual drinkers—probably James would not have fancied becoming like one of these, but he gave little thought to their appearance. He only thought how delightful it would be to have such a floating home.
"Is the captain on board?" the boy ventured to ask.
"He's down below," growled the sailor whom he addressed.
"Will he soon come up?"
He was answered in the affirmative.
So James lingered until the man he inquired for came up.
He was a brutal-looking man, as common in appearance as any of the sailors whom he commanded, and the boy was amazed at his bearing. Surely that man was not his ideal of a ship-captain. He thought of him as a sort of prince, but there was nothing princely about the miserable, bloated wretch before him.
Still he preferred his application.
"Do you want a new hand?" asked James.
His answer was a volley of oaths and curses that made James turn pale, for he had never uttered an oath in his life, and had never listened to anything so disgusting as the tirade to which he was forced to listen.
He sensibly concluded that nothing was to be gained by continuing the conversation with such a man. He left the schooner's deck with a feeling of discomfiture. He had never suspected that sailors talked or acted like the men he saw.
Still he clung to the idea that all sailors were not like this captain. Perhaps again the rebuff he received was in consequence of his rustic appearance. The captain might be prejudiced against him, just as the shop-keepers had been, though the latter certainly had not expressed themselves in such rude and profane language. He might not be fit for a sailor yet, but he could prepare himself.
He bethought himself of a cousin of his, by name Amos Letcher, who had not indeed arrived at the exalted position of captain of a schooner, but was content with the humbler position of captain of a canal-boat on the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal.
This seemed to James a lucky thought.
"I will go to Amos Letcher," he said to himself. "Perhaps he can find me a situation on a canal-boat, and that will be the next thing to being on board a ship."
This thought put fresh courage into the boy, and he straightway inquired for the Evening Star, which was the name of the boat commanded by his cousin.
Chapter IV—On The Tow-Path
Captain Letcher regarded his young cousin in surprise.
"Well, Jimmy, what brings you to Cleveland?" he asked.
"I came here to ship on the lake," the boy answered. "I tried first to get a place in a store, as I promised mother, but I found no opening. I would rather be a sailor."
"I am afraid your choice is not a good one; a good place on land is much better than going to sea. Have you tried to get a berth?"
"Yes, I applied to the captain of a schooner, but he swore at me and called me a land-lubber."
"So you are," returned his cousin smiling "Well, what are your plans now?"
"Can't you give me a place?"
"What, on the canal?"
"Yes cousin."
"I suppose you think that would be the next thing to going to sea?"
"It might prepare me for it."
"Well," said Captain Letcher, good-naturedly, "I will see what I can do for you. Can you drive a pair of horses?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then I will engage you. The pay is not very large, but you will live on the boat."
"How much do you pay?" asked James, who was naturally interested in the answer to this question.
"We pay from eight to ten dollars a month, according to length of service and fidelity. Of course, as a new hand, you can not expect ten dollars."
"I shall be satisfied with eight, cousin."
"Now, as to your duties. You will work six hours on and six hours off. That's what we call a trick—the six hours on, I mean. So you will have every other six hours to rest, or do anything you like; that is, after you have attended to the horses."
"Horses!" repeated James, puzzled; for the animals attached to the boat at that moment were mules.
"Some of our horses are mules," said Captain Letcher, smiling. "However, it makes no difference. You will have to feed and rub them down, and then you can lie down in your bunk, or do anything else you like."
"That won't be very hard work," said James, cheerfully.
"Oh, I forgot to say that you can ride or walk, as you choose. You can rest yourself by changing from one to the other."
James thought he should like to ride on horseback, as most boys do. It was not, however, so good fun as he anticipated. A canal-boat horse is by no means a fiery or spirited creature. His usual gait is from two to two and a half miles an hour, and to a boy of quick, active temperament the slowness must be rather exasperating. Yet, in the course of a day a boat went a considerable distance. It usually made fifty, and sometimes sixty miles a day. The rate depended on the number of locks it had to pass through.
Probably most of my young readers understand the nature of a lock. As all water seeks a level, there would be danger in an uneven country that some parts of the canal would be left entirely dry, and in others the water would overflow. For this reason at intervals locks are constructed, composed of brief sections of the canal barricaded at each end by gates. When a boat is going down, the near gates are thrown open and the boat enters the lock, the water rushing in till a level is secured; then the upper gates are closed, fastening the boat in the lock. Next the lower gates are opened, the water in the lock seeks the lower level of the other section of the canal, and the boat moves out of the lock, the water subsiding gradually beneath it. Next, the lower gates are closed, and the boat proceeds on its way. It will easily be understood, when the case is reversed, and the boat is going up, how after being admitted into the lock it will be lifted up to the higher level when the upper gates are thrown open.
If any of my young readers find it difficult to understand my explanation, I advise them to read Jacob Abbot's excellent book, "Rollo on the Erie Canal," where the whole matter is lucidly explained.
Railroads were not at that time as common as now, and the canal was of much more importance and value as a means of conveying freight. Sometimes passengers traveled that way, when they were in not much of a hurry, but there were no express canal-boats, and a man who chose to travel in that way must have abundant leisure on his hands. There is some difference between traveling from two to two and a half miles an hour, and between thirty and forty, as most of our railroad express trains do.
James did not have to wait long after his engagement before he was put on duty. With boyish pride he mounted one of the mules and led the other. A line connected the mules with the boat, which was drawn slowly and steadily through the water. James felt the responsibility of his situation. It was like going to sea on a small scale, though the sea was but a canal. At all events, he felt that he had more important work to do than if he were employed as a boy on one of the lake schooners.
James was at this time fifteen; a strong, sturdy boy, with a mass of auburn hair, partly covered by a loose-fitting hat. He had a bright, intelligent face, and an earnest look that attracted general attention. Yet, to one who saw the boy guiding the patient mule along the tow-path, it would have seemed a most improbable prediction, that one day the same hand would guide the ship of State, a vessel of much more consequence than the humble canal-boat.
There was one comfort, at any rate. Though in his rustic garb he was not well enough dressed to act as clerk in a Cleveland store, no one complained that he was not well enough attired for a canal-boy.
It will occur to my young reader that, though the work was rather monotonous, there was not much difficulty or danger connected with it. But even the guidance of a canal-boat has its perplexities, and James was not long in his new position before he realized it.
It often happened that a canal-boat going up encountered another going down, and vice versa. Then care has to be exercised by the respective drivers lest their lines get entangled.
All had been going on smoothly till James saw another boat coming. It might have been his inexperience, or it might have been the carelessness of the other driver, but at any rate the lines got entangled. Meanwhile the boat, under the impetus that had been given it, kept on its way until it was even with the horses, and seemed likely to tow them along.
"Whip up your team, Jim, or your line will ketch on the bridge!" called out the steersman.
The bridge was built over a waste-way which occurred just ahead, and it was necessary for James to drive over it.
The caution was heeded, but too late. James whipped up his mules, but when he had reached the middle of the bridge the rope tightened, and before the young driver fairly understood what awaited him, he and his team were jerked into the canal. Of course he was thrown off the animal he was riding, and found himself struggling in the water side by side with the astonished mules. The situation was a ludicrous one, but it was also attended with some danger. Even if he did not drown, and the canal was probably deep enough for that, he stood in some danger of being kicked by the terrified mules.
The boy, however, preserved his presence of mind, and managed, with help, to get out himself and to get his team out.
Then Captain Letcher asked him, jocosely, "What were you doing in the canal, Jim?"
"I was just taking my morning bath," answered the boy, in the same vein.
"You'll do," said the captain, struck by the boy's coolness.
Six hours passed, and James' "trick" was over. He and his mules were both relieved from duty. Both were allowed to come on board the boat and rest for a like period, while the other driver took his place on the tow-path.
"Well, Jim, how do you like it as far as you've got?" asked the captain.
"I like it," answered the boy.
"Shall you be ready to take another bath to-morrow morning?" asked his cousin, slyly.
"I think one bath a week will be sufficient," was the answer.
Feeling a natural interest in his young cousin, Amos Letcher thought he would examine him a little, to see how far his education had advanced. Respecting his own ability as an examiner he had little doubt, for he had filled the proud position of teacher in Steuben County, Indiana, for three successive winters.
"I suppose you have been to school more or less, Jim?" he said.
"Oh, yes," answered the boy.
"What have you studied?"
James enumerated the ordinary school branches. They were not many, for his acquirements were not extensive; but he had worked well, and was pretty well grounded as far as he had gone.
Chapter V—An Important Conversation
"I've taught school myself," said Captain Letcher, complacently. "I taught for three winters in Indiana."
James, who, even then, had a high opinion of learning, regarded the canal-boat captain with increased respect.
"I didn't know that," he answered, duly impressed.
"Yes, I've had experience as a teacher. Now, if you don't mind, I'll ask you a few questions, and find out how much you know. We've got plenty of time, for it's a long way to Pancake Lock."
"Don't ask me too hard questions," said the boy. "I'll answer the best I know."
Upon this Captain Letcher, taking a little time to think, began to question his young cousin in the different branches he had enumerated. The questions were not very hard, for the good captain, though he had taught school in Indiana, was not a profound scholar.
James answered every question promptly and accurately, to the increasing surprise of his employer.
The latter paused.
"Haven't you any more questions?" asked James.
"No, I don't think of any."
"Then may I ask you some?"
"Yes, if you want to," answered the captain, rather surprised.
"Very well," said James. "A man went to a shoemaker and bought a pair of boots, for which he was to pay five dollars. He offered a fifty-dollar bill, which the shoemaker sent out and had changed. He paid his customer forty-five dollars in change, and the latter walked off with the boots. An hour later he ascertained that the bill was a counterfeit, and he was obliged to pay back fifty dollars in good money to the man who had changed the bill for him. Now, how much did he lose?"
"That's easy enough. He lost fifty dollars and the boots."
"I don't think that's quite right," said James, smiling.
"Of course it is. Didn't he have to pay back fifty dollars in good money, and didn't the man walk off with the boots?"
"That's true; but he neither lost nor made by changing the bill. He received fifty dollars in good money and paid back the same, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Whatever he lost his customer made, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Well, the man walked off with forty-five dollars and a pair of boots. The other five dollars the shoemaker kept himself."
"That's so, Jim. I see it now, but it's rather puzzling at first. Did you make that out yourself?"
"Yes."
"Then you've got a good head—better than I expected. Have you got any more questions?"
"Just a few."
So the boy continued to ask questions, and the captain was more than once obliged to confess that he could not answer. He began to form a new opinion of his young cousin, who, though he filled the humble position of a canal-boy, appeared to be well equipped with knowledge.
"I guess that'll do, Jim," he said after a while. "You've got ahead of me, though I didn't expect it. A boy with such a head as you've got ought not to be on the tow-path."
"What ought I to be doing, cousin?"
"You ought to keep school. You're better qualified than I am to-day, and yet I taught for three winters in Indiana."
James was pleased with this tribute to his acquirements, especially from a former schoolmaster.
"I never thought of that," he said. "I'm too young to keep school. I'm only fifteen."
"That is rather young. You know enough; but I aint sure that you could tackle some of the big boys that would be coming to school. You know enough, but you need more muscle. I'll tell you what I advise. Stay with me this summer—it won't do you any hurt, and you'll be earning something—then go to school a term or two, and by that time you'll be qualified to teach a district school."
"I'll think of what you say, cousin," said James, thoughtfully. "I don't know but your advice is good."
It is not always easy to say what circumstances have most influence in shaping the destiny of a boy, but it seems probable that the conversation which has just been detailed, and the discovery that he was quite equal in knowledge to a man who had been a schoolmaster, may have put new ideas into the boy's head, destined to bear fruit later.
For the present, however, his duties as a canal-boy must be attended to, and they were soon to be resumed.
About ten o'clock that night, when James was on duty, the boat approached the town of Akron, where there were twenty-one locks to be successively passed through.
The night was dark, and, though the bowman of the Evening Star did not see it, another boat had reached the same lock from the opposite direction. Now in such cases the old rule, "first come, first served," properly prevailed.
The bowman had directed the gates to be thrown open, in order that the boat might enter the lock, when a voice was heard through the darkness, "Hold on, there! Our boat is just round the bend, ready to enter."
"We have as much right as you," said the bowman.
As he spoke he commenced turning the gate.
My young reader will understand from the description already given that it will not do to have both lower and upper gates open at the same time. Of course, one or the other boat must wait.
Both bowmen were determined to be first, and neither was willing to yield. Both boats were near the lock, their head-lights shining as bright as day, and the spirit of antagonism reached and affected the crews of both.
Captain Letcher felt called upon to interfere lest there should be serious trouble.
He beckoned to his bowman.
"Were you here first?" he asked.
"It is hard to tell," answered the bowman, "but I'm bound to have the lock, anyhow."
The captain was not wholly unaffected by the spirit of antagonism which his bowman displayed.
"All right; just as you say," he answered, and it seemed likely that conflict was inevitable.
James Garfield had been an attentive observer, and an attentive listener to what had been said. He had formed his own ideas of what was right to be done.
"Look here, captain," he said, tapping Captain Letcher on the arm, "does this lock belong to us?"
"I really suppose, according to law, it does not; but we will have it, anyhow."
"No, we will not," replied the boy.
"And why not?" asked the captain, naturally surprised at such a speech from his young driver.
"Because it does not belong to us."
The captain was privately of opinion that the boy was right, yet but for his remonstrance he would have stood out against the claims of the rival boat. He took but brief time for considerations, and announced his decision.
"Boys," he said to his men, "Jim is right. Let them have the lock."
Of course there was no more trouble, but the bowman, and the others connected with the Evening Star, were angry. It irritated them to be obliged to give up the point, and wait humbly till the other boat had passed through the lock.
The steersman was George Lee. When breakfast was called, he sat down by James.
"What is the matter with you, Jim?" he asked.
"Nothing at all."
"What made you so for giving up the lock last night?"
"Because it wasn't ours. The other boat had it by right."
"Jim, you are a coward," said Lee contemptuously. "You aint fit for a boatman. You'd better go back to the farm and chop wood or milk cows, for a man or boy isn't fit for this business that isn't ready to fight for his rights."
James did not answer. Probably he saw that it would be of no use. George Lee was for his own boat, right or wrong; but James had already begun to reflect upon the immutable principles of right or wrong, and he did not suffer his reason to be influenced by any considerations touching his own interests or his own pride.
As to the charge of cowardice it did not trouble him much. On a suitable occasion later on (we shall tell the story in due season) he showed that he was willing to contend for his rights, when he was satisfied that the right was on his side.
Chapter VI—James Leaves The Canal
James was not long to fill the humble position of driver. Before the close of the first trip he was promoted to the more responsible office of bowman. Whether his wages were increased we are not informed.
It may be well in this place to mention that a canal boat required, besides the captain, two drivers, two steersmen, a bowman, and a cook, the last perhaps not the least important of the seven. "The bowman's business was to stop the boat as it entered the lock, by throwing the bowline that was attached to the bow of the boat around the snubbing post." It was to this position that James was promoted, though I have some doubt whether the place of driver, with the opportunities it afforded of riding on horse or mule-back, did not suit him better. Still, promotion is always pleasant, and in this case it showed that the boy had discharged his humbler duties satisfactorily.
I have said that the time came when James showed that he was not a coward. Edmund Kirke, in his admirable life of Garfield, has condensed the captain's account of the occurrence, and I quote it here as likely to prove interesting to my boy readers:
"The Evening Star was at Beaver, and a steamboat was ready to tow her up to Pittsburg. The boy was standing on deck with the selting-pole against his shoulders, and some feet away stood Murphy, one of the boat hands, a big, burly fellow of thirty-five, when the steamboat threw the line, and, owing to a sudden lurch of the boat, it whirled over the boy's head, and flew in the direction of the boatman. 'Look out, Murphy!' cried the boy; but the rope had anticipated him, and knocked Murphy's hat off into the river. The boy expressed his regret, but it was of no avail. In a towering rage the man rushed upon him, with his head down, like a maddened animal; but, stepping nimbly aside, the boy dealt him a powerful blow behind the ear, and he tumbled to the bottom of the boat among the copper ore. Before he could rise the boy was upon him, one hand upon his throat, the other raised for another blow upon his frontispiece.
"'Pound the cussed fool, Jim!' cried Captain Letcher, who was looking on appreciatingly. 'If he haint no more sense'n to get mad at accidents, giv it ter him! Why don't you strike?'
"But the boy did not strike, for the man was down and in his power. Murphy expressed regret for his rage, and then Garfield gave him his hand, and they became better friends than ever before. This victory of a boy of sixteen over a man of thirty-five obliterated the notion of young Garfield's character for cowardice, and gave him a great reputation among his associates. The incident is still well remembered among the boatmen of the Ohio and Pennsylvania Canal."
The boy's speedy reconciliation to the man who had made so unprovoked an assault upon him was characteristic of his nature. He never could cherish malice, and it was very hard work for him to remain angry with any one, however great the provocation.
Both as a boy and as a man he possessed great physical strength, as may be inferred from an incident told by the Boston Journal of his life when he was no longer the humble canal-boy, but a brigadier-general in the army:
"At Pittsburg Landing one night in 1862 there was a rush for rations by some newly-arrived troops. One strong, fine-looking soldier presented a requisition for a barrel of flour, and, shouldering it, walked off with ease. When the wagon was loaded, this same man stepped up to Colonel Morton, commanding the commissary steamers there, and remarked, 'I suppose you require a receipt for these supplies?' 'Yes,' said the Colonel, as he handed over the usual blank; 'just take this provision return, and have it signed by your commanding officer.' 'Can't I sign it?' was the reply. 'Oh, no,' said the affable Colonel Morton; 'it requires the signature of a commissioned officer.' Then came the remark, that still remains fresh in the Colonel's memory: 'I am a commissioned officer—I'm a brigadier-general, and my name is Garfield, of Ohio.'"
For four months James remained connected with the canal-boat. To show that traveling by canal is not so free from danger as it is supposed to be, it may be stated that in this short time he fell into the water fourteen times. Usually he scrambled out without further harm than a good wetting. One night, however, he was in serious pain.