Times of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and Beyond– Bill

Chapter 3

"Things sure were different then, Bill; the canal runs right up Broad Creek and all the way to the Delaware River, and there's no dam near Bethel."

"You can't dam the canal, boy. Those tankers that steam through here might not like it. They'd be damned impolite about it," Bill said in that iron-hard voice, not smiling at all.

"All right then, where else could those Indians have paddled?" I asked, pointing to the Basin area on the map.

"Well, they'd go west, past Borger's Wharf. They'd pass Rees' Wharf and glide through the area over which Long Bridge would be constructed. Farther still, they'd pass by Herriot's Hotel, close to where the Showboat was to tie up. Close to that was the warehouse where farmers would store their wheat for the bugeyes to load and transport. Paddling on, they'd pass on the right the area where the locks would be placed, and next to the locks was where Joseph Schaefer would build his store."

"Hold on, Bill. Is that where you can buy the good crab cakes?"

"That's right, boy. Joe started selling crab cakes to folks across his fence. Then he built the store right on Back Creek and put up a sign that read: 'Joseph Schaefer, Sr. Ship Chandlery and Grocery Store.' The stuff he sold back then was good, and a bargain, too. Now, if you go there for food you have to have more money than brains."

"Right, Bill, but where would those Indians go next?"

"Why, they'd keep paddling west, and on Back Creek's south side, across from Schaefer's, they'd pass the area where timbermen would store their logs before they shoved them through the locks on their way east. The logs came in the form of big rafts from Pennsylvania, down the Susquehanna River, and they had to be broken apart so they'd fit through the locks, which were only 22 feet wide. Anyhow, next to that area there on the South Side was Diebert's Dry Dock, where the murder took place."

"What murder, Bill? Tell me about it."

"It happened long before you were born, and maybe I'll tell you about it sometime, when you've grown a bit. But look here, boy, at this map again." He said, still tracing it with his knifepoint. "Those Indians keep heading west on Back Creek, past Titter's farm where the suicide would take place, past where the Chesapeake Boat Company would be laid out, past where the Burnt House swimming spot would be, and farther down on the right where the Southern Transportation Company would be established on Long Creek. It would go on to build wooden barges that could just fit through the locks, barges that mules—and later steam tugs—would pull through the canal. That shipyard employed many men from this town, including your uncles, Clarence and Warren Truss.

"Now, those Indians could have paddled up Long Creek too, because the hunting and trapping were so good. There were plenty of deer, ducks, beaver, and muskrats in that area at that time. All kinds of eagles, hawks, and other fish-eating birds nested there also. Long Creek runs north east for a short spell and then swings east and runs far into Delaware before dying out."

"Did the Indians stop there, Bill?"

"Nope," Bill answered, cutting himself another chaw. "They kept heading west, swerving far to the right away from Sandy Point, the spot where John Randall built a long wharf and placed a huge coal oil light to warn pilots."

"Who in the world was John Randall?"

"Why, I'm surprised your father didn't tell you about him. For a while he was the chief engineer in charge of digging the canal; he was the one who dug the Erie Canal. He thought an awful lot of himself for sure, because he bought a vast area of land along Back Creek and Herring Creek and named it after himself, Randalia. Boy, he would sue anybody who disagreed with him—and he'd win, too. See, he expected the locks would be built near Sandy Point, and if he owned all of the land he'd stand to make a fortune."

"OK, but where would the Indians have paddled next? Would they have gone past Welsh's Point and out into the Elk River?"

"Indians are territorial, like lions. They would not have wanted anything to do with the Elk River or Chesapeake Bay tribes. But they controlled Herring Island and congregated there, don't you know."

"Herring Island? Where's that?"

"Before my time it was called 'Fish Island,' and here's how you get there if you're headed west out of Back Creek. At Welch's Point you turn left, across to the mouth of Herring Creek, and it's right there, pretty close to the shore. Boy, I mind the time when I was a youngster—not much older than you—when I used to row to that island and swim and fish all around it. It's getting smaller and smaller by the way. The heavy shipping traffic through Back Creek is eating it away. And when the Indians were there it was much bigger. Different tribes controlled the island through the years until about 1600 AD. Why, I found all kinds of Indian stuff when I dived around there as a boy. I don't have an idea where they are now, but I toted home lots of Indian pottery of all sizes."

"What else did you find, Bill? Any spears or arrowheads?"

"Course I did, boy. Those Redskins used the ironstone on Herring Island to make their tools and weapons. See for yourself," he said, opening the lid of a small wooden box.

"Geez!" I said, fingering them, "These are great!"

"Certainly," he grunted. Herring Island was the main source of ironstone in this whole area. And the Indians in our general area were mostly branches of the Iroquois tribe. The ones along the Susquehanna River were Susquehannocks, and they were big, about seven feet tall, and as strong as oxen. Northeast of us, near Iron Hill, Delaware, was a quarry of jasper, a hard, red rock that the Leni Lenape Indians used to make their weapons and tools."

"Well, Bill," I said, tired of his boring lecture, "what were the Indians called who lived where we are, along Back Creek?"

"Now, boy, nobody knows, exactly, what they called themselves, so you can call them Backcreekanocks if you want to." Bill tapped his knifepoint on the map at the mouth of Back Creek, opposite Welsh's Point. "Come to think of it," he said, as he tapped in thought, "those birds may have paddled across here to Herring Island to spear the fish and maybe dig up some clams around the island. Then they could have gone up Herring Creek. It's full of wildlife and winds almost all the way back to Chesapeake City, don't you know."

"So they stayed pretty much in our Chesapeake City area?" I asked, circling my finger around the section on the map."

"You got it, boy. They hunted, fished, and tended their crops right here, where Broad Creek branched off Back Creek, near where the Corps is now. They harvested the marine life from the east, the end of Broad Creek at Bethel, to the west at Welsh's Point." Making it clear, Bill waved that dirty, worn knife back and forth across the map, from the east at Turner's Mill—which is now Bethel Cemetery—to the west at Welsh's Point, the entrance to the Canal.  [To be continued Tuesday, 5/15/2012]