From Whence They Came

by J. Erwin Kemsley

(A non-copyrighted semi-fictional account)

As religious tensions continued to mount in Scotland, young James Irvine, journeyed to the Ulster Province, in Northern Ireland, to visit with relatives. Years before, some members of the Irvine family, had moved to Ireland to escape growing religious oppression by the Royalists, but the Irish rift between Protestants and Catholics had become so intense that, it was nearly impossible to exercise freedom, even there. William Penn had been encouraging disgruntled Scotch Presbyterians to go to America. His promises of land, freedom and prosperity, had at first inspired only a trickle of departures but now hundreds of Scotch-Irish Presbyterians were leaving in bold exodus. Even Edward Irvine, James’s host and kinsman, had been murmuring about starting a new life in America.

It was during this extended stay that James met a young Irish beauty, who turned his head and changed his destiny. Her name was (most likely) Agnes Patterson and as their relationship blossomed, James lost his heart. He soon learned of her father’s intention to emigrate to the Colonies and knew he would have to act swiftly. James sent a dispatch to his father, Alexander of Artamford and Crimond, (who had recently inherited Drum Castle and become the 16th Laird), requesting permission to marry Agnes. Alexander quickly returned the dispatch, and it came as no surprise to James, that his father opposed the union. It was deemed a father’s privilege to arrange the marriages of his children in a manner that would bring both a useful alliance and a good quantity of land and chattels into the family. Alexander demanded that James return to Aberdeen at once.

Despite his father’s adamant wishes, James and Agnes were soon married and James decided that they would follow Agnes family to America. He knew full well that his father would probably disavow him for his insolent actions, but he did not wish to leave behind ill feelings so James took his now pregnant bride to Aberdeen and prepared to face his father. When at last James announced his marriage, Alexander was indeed furious at his son’s defiance, but soon resolved that what was done could not be undone. The couple remained in Aberdeen until the birth of their first child, Joseph and then hastily returned to the home of Agnes’ parents in Ireland, to prepare for their impending departure. In about 1740, the Irvines, Pat­tersons and several other allied families, set sail on a small clipper ship, bound for the American adventure.

At first the voyage was very exciting but as the weeks wore on, the journey grew difficult and tiresome. Passengers and crew had been at sea for more than a month now and as the gallant clipper cut its way through the gales of autumn, everyone seemed weary and anxious for the crossing to end. Too frequently they had battled the storms and squalls that tossed the little ship as though it were a mere twig floating upon the water. Violent waves sliced across the bow and twice the main sail had been so severely battered in the wind, that it had to be hauled down for repairs. Once a torrent of salt water began pouring into the hold and had to be bailed night and day, just to keep the tiny vessel from floundering.

Now James stood at the railing of the aft-deck, his thoughts turned to the port they had left behind. How he longed for the earthly security of that beautiful emerald isle under his feet. Closing his eyes against an internal tide of nausea, he could easily envision Ireland, sadly fading into the hazy horizon, as the ship slipped from its Belfast lough and made for the open sea. He wondered now, if he had he made the right choice?

A frigid sea spray brushed across his face, snapping him back into bitter reality, where he found his beloved Agnes or Nancy as he often called her, standing silently at his side. Darling Nancy; how young and beautiful she looked as the golden moonlight caressed her auburn hair! He stirred to embrace her, folding her tenderly in his arms. His lips played lightly upon her forehead, yet neither of them spoke. The night air was bitter cold and the young couple reluc­tantly turned to go below decks again. Below, to the stale air that had grown foul with the stench of uncontrolled waste and vomit. Below to the cramped quarters they had been assigned to.

Families were forced to sleep four or more to berth. Conditions were unsanitary at best. Bilge rats scurried brazenly around corners and across tables, in the ever-flickering lantern light. Nearly all of the passengers had been stricken with fevers or consumptions at one time or another and the death crone seemed a constant companion. Throughout the night, babies cried, mourners wept and feverish souls writhed and heaved in anguish. Hardly a single day now passed, when some pilgrim’s dream of freedom, didn’t turn into dismal tragedy, as the body of a their loved one was consigned to a watery grave.

But all was not hardship for the immigrants. On warmer days, there were games and music on deck. Children played and couples took strolls in the sunlight. Sunday worship services were solemn, but hope bolstering and inspirational. Often in the evenings, families shared future plans and schemes for their new lives. Daily meals consisted of dried meats, such as venison or mutton, gruel, stew, hardtack and nuts. Citrus fruits were plentiful and essential to prevent scurvy on a long voyage such as this. Water was rationed at the rate of one gallon per person, per day.

After sixty-seven days at sea, a call came at last, that land had been sighted. Passengers scrambled to the deck, many of them blinking their unaccustomed eyes against daylight’s brightness, while trying to catch a glimpse of their new home. As the ship slid gracefully into the harbor at Philadelphia, someone offered a grateful prayer of deliverance, which ended with a reverent Amen and a rousing cheer. “America! America! God shed his grace on thee!” One by one the sea weary passengers collected their meager belongings and descended the gangplank, into the strange new world that lay before them. The smiles on their faces beam­ing almost as brightly, as the optimism in their hearts.

Philadelphia was quite a thriving city. Dock workers bustled to and fro, as ships were being loaded and unloaded. Merchants hawked their wares in the crisp autumn air. People and horses, dogs and cattle, all hustled about and a small crowd gathered nearby to inspect the latest offerings of the weekly slave auction. The docks were indeed a wondrous sight to behold and the newest Americans stood in awe. As news of the clipper’s arrival spread, the waterfront began to swarm with relatives and well-wishers who had come to greet their loved ones. The Irvines and Pat­tersons were no exception, since they were not the first of their families to make that perilous trek across the Atlantic.

It took little time for the new-comers to begin settling in. Winter would be upon them soon and there was much preparation to be made. The Irvines and Pattersons petitioned for English Crown Grants and were given tracts of land in and around the burgeoning Scotch-Irish ham­let of Chester County, Pennsylvania. The settlers quickly set about clearing the land and built crude lean-tos to shelter them, until their winter log homes could be erected. The finished cabins were very small, but a family of eight could manage to live fairly comfortably, between the large room downstairs and the sleeping loft above. Most of the cabins had dirt floors and only one window, which could be easily defended in the event of an attack by Indians or prying wild beasts. With the coming of spring, the countryside sprang to life with beautiful greenery and the rich loamy soil yielded gracefully to its new masters.

In time, James Irvine acquired the lease on an existing mill and began to earn a modest in­come. Except for occasional trouble with the local Indians, life in America seemed to be all that William Penn had been promised.

In 1750, however, rumors of new land grants in North Carolina and Virginia began to circulate, and the old wanderlust struck the Irvines and Pattersons once again. Ed­ward Irvine and some of the Pattersons decided to move on to Augusta County, Virginia, but James Irvine had set his sights on North Carolina’s raw frontier and petitioned Lord Granville for two parcels of land. In about 1754, James Irvine (now spelling his name Erwin) received a confirmation on his grant, entitling him to two adjacent tracts of land located in newly formed Rowan County, near the Yadkin River. His land now awaited him on a small tributary, called Second Broad Creek.

James was excited and after disposing of all his Chester County property, he loaded his grow­ing family and all their household goods into a large covered wagon and took up a position behind the reins. The south-bound wagon train that would afford them safety and protection from savages was beginning to assemble and James – with a sharp crack of his whip – urged the wagon into formation. With mixed emotions, Agnes waved good-bye to her family and friends. As she took one last look at the little farm she had come to love so well, the horses lurched forward and the trek was on.

The Great Wagon Road, which would lead them to Salisbury, consisted of about 700 miles of bumps and ruts stretching from Pennsylvania to Georgia. The ride was anything but pleasant, and most members of the family walked most of the way along side of the wagon. The journey was long and dusty, yet except for a few broken wagon wheels it was uneventful. The settlers had often stopped to trade trivial treasures among passing tribes of Indians; this in order to afford themselves safer passage.

When at last the wagons reached the Yadkin River, it was necessary to cross the 300-yard waterway via the ferry that had been established at Ingles Crossing a few years earlier. The wagons were loaded one at a time onto a wooden platform and then slowly drawn across the river by a system of horses, ropes and pulleys. On the opposite bank, the Great Wagon Road dissolved into a series of old Indian trading paths. Salisbury lay at the junc­tion of the old Catawba and Cherokee paths and had been established in 1750. Once the train reached Salisbury, the settlers were on their own.