Pirates 4: River Pirates

Eventually he wound up in Wisconsin, where he got married and took a job as a deputy marshal for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. By the eighteen nineties he had settled down on a small farm in Milwaukee. Then one day, his perfectly normal life took an odd turn. Dan Cevie abruptly sold his property, abandoned his wife and two children,

and began a career on the water. He earned money the old fashioned way for a mariner at the time, transportation services for loggers, trappers, and lumber mills, although the real money came from his side hustle, smuggling, poaching, and the occasional bootlegging, and his appearance made him as notable as his services. He stood six ft four with two fifty pounds of muscle, and spoke with a strong New

England accent. It was a physique that made him a gifted brawler, and if his fists weren't enough, he also carried a pistol. With all that, it's easy to say that he had a reputation, although he often complained that the worst stories were just rumors. Folks said that he would extinguish other boats guidelights, causing them to run aground. Once vulnerable, the ship's made for easy boarding and looting. Of course, he claimed that he hadn't done anything wrong.

The boats were shipwrecks after all, And if that action sounds like a pirate to you, and then you're not alone. Take for example, the events of nineteen o eight, when officials arrested him for that exact crime. Apparently, on June eleven of that year, dan Sev and two of his sailors met R. J. Mc cormick, the captain of the

Nellie Johnson, a lumber schooner, at a local tavern. The drinks flowed heavily and once McCormick and his crew were sufficiently drunk, CV and the others made off with their ship. He first set out for Chicago, where he hoped to sell the lumber. However, for whatever reason, no one was buying. Meanwhile, McCormick,

now very sober, reported the theft. Government officials in Chicago sent the ship Tuscarora after c V. The word also went out to lighthouse keepers, and before long CV and the Nellie Johnson were spotted in a river near Frankfurt. Sources say that CV tried to outrun the steel hull gun ship, but surrendered when the crew fired a cannon shot at the water line near Nellie Johnson's bow. Officials boarded the ship and arrested CV on piracy charges, although

he was later arraigned for mutiny on the high seas. Instead, ah pirates well usually envisioned them sailing the Caribbean, boarding merchant vessels, flying the black flag, and barry in their treasure on some remote sandy beach. But as we're about to learn, some of the most fascinating characters in the pirate world conducted business away from the ocean waves. To them, there was no better place to be a pirate than lakes and rivers. I'm Aaron Manky and welcome to pirates.

Before rail cars became the most efficient way to move people in goods, riverboats were the preferred method, and just like their seafaring counterparts, riverboats faced similar threats. With the Ohio and Mississippi rivers so frequently traveled, it's no surprise that river pirates saw plenty of opportunities. In the eighteenth century, the Spanish and British sought to expand their colonies along the Ohio River. Immigrants often traveled to Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana,

and Illinois in flat bottom rafts aptly named flatboats. They were great alternatives to navigate, eating through dense forests and rough terrain. The captains traveled back and forth between cities and towns, transporting and dropping off anything from coal and flower to cattle and slaves. But all this travel and transport by water came with plenty of risks. Rocks, sandbars, storms,

and even submerged trees could spell disaster. If that weren't enough, they were frequently traveling through land that belonged to the indigenous peoples of the area who defended that land. Oh and River pirates. The trouble is fact in legends sort of intertwined when it comes to river piracy, and documentation is sometimes sparse. The one early account, though, is a fairly well documented story of Captain Samuel Mason, born in Norfolk, Virginia,

in seventeen thirty nine. Mason's criminal lifestyle began with stealing horses and slaves in the late seventeen sixties, but he also committed murder, counterfeiting, and piracy. He and his gang set down roots in Henderson, Kentucky, though back then locals called the area at Banks nestled along the Ohio River. The settlers found the location the perfect place for homes, taverns,

and a few stores. By the seventeen nineties, though the quaint town had become home to robbers, outlaws, and cutthroats. Mason and his men shifted their headquarters down river to a cavern in an area famously known as Cave in Rock. The fifty five foot wide cave made for a great camp, and the cliff above provided a clear sight of approaching flatboats. Now, river pirates operated a bit differently than their ocean dwelling cousins. They lacked massive ships with their black flags. Their method

of plundering more closely resembled highwaymen. Mostly, there were two approaches, one getting the boats to dock or run them aground. In this method, gag members hailed passing ships and pretended to be lost in the wilderness, or they'd say that they needed supplies for their survival or well being, even

offering money if the boat came to shore. Since sandbars and other obstacles posed a hazard to boats, locals familiar with sections of the river made an honest living as a guide, but clever opportunists, as they are, pirates in the rivers pretended to be reputable guides as well. However, once aboard, the impostor guided the ship into trouble where his gang members waited. Doct and empty boats also made an easy target. The pirates board small holes into the

bottom or removed the calking on the side. Unsuspecting crews would load their boats unaware that they would soon be taking on water, and once the captain and crew were distracted, the pirates would rush the ship, taking the cargo and killing those aboard if necessary. Like many of their sea dwelling counterparts, river pirates were ruthless after killing the captain,

they would loot and burn the flatboats. The stolen goods found their way to unscrupulous store owners, and the money from those sales always seemed to find their way back to the pirates. When the Spanish captured Samuel Mason in eighteen oh three in what is now southeastern Arkansas, he insisted that they had the wrong guy and that he was a simple farm. Of course, the seven thousand dollars in his bank account and the twenty scalps found in

his cabin suggested otherwise. The Spanish turned Mason and his crew over to the Americans during their transport to Mississippi, though they overpowered the guards and took refuge in the forest. But as the saying goes, there's no honor among thieves. Mason's crew killed him, cut off his head, and brought it to the authorities, hoping to claim a reward, but after being identified by another captain as Mason's crew, all of them were taken into custody and hanged for piracy.

Mason had been successful due to his organizational skills, admirable for sure, but surprisingly there was another who took planning to a whole new level. Pirate's hails remained heavily steeped in legend. But that's sort of the draw, isn't it. The blend of historical records and hand me down tales are often inseparable and fascinating. Such is the case with James Ford, sometimes called Satan's Ferryman. His story starts routinely enough, but it's of note here that each piece sets the

stage for later success. Ford was born somewhere around seventeen seventy five in Spartanburg, South Carolina. After the death of his father, his mother remarried and the family moved to Princeton in Caldwell County, Kentucky. In seventeen ninety seven. Ford chose Cavin Rock to call his home for the rest of his life. He married Susan Miles, the daughter of

a ferry owner operating on the Ohio River nearby. Sometime around eighteen hundred, he and three other men were appointed for road survey and construction to Miles Ferry, the same ferry owned by his father in law. James and Sarah have three children, Philip, William, and Cassandra. Early on, he earned a living as a farmer, buying and operating farmland on both the Illinois and the Kentucky side of the river, as well as an operation on Hurricane Island just downstream

from Caven Rock. His business venture made him successful. Records show that while he didn't own any land in eighteen hundred, just four years later he owned two hundred acres. Over the years, he listed his children as owners of those parcels and set up his own homestead just five miles south of Cave In Rock. He later entered the military, although he never spent any time in battle. For a few years he even served as a cavalry captain in

the twenty four Kentucky Militia Regiment. Then in eighteen o four he became a Justice of the Peace. It probably goes without saying. Between his military service and dedication to the community, both the public and the local government looked up to Ford. The court accepted almost every motion he ever made before them. Then in February of eight he became Livingston County's sheriff. His six foot tall, muscular build

must have done a lot to deter criminals. His head of sandy hair and steel gray eyes framed a large and well defined face, and when he spoke, his deep voice carried none of his appearance or manners came off surly, though well unless provoked. Those who made such a mistake found themselves severely outmatched. A worthy sheriff and a busy man,

for sure. But despite all his community effort, he still had one more business endeavor, a ferry of his own, aptly named Ford's Ferry, just a couple of miles upstream from Cave in Rock. But FOURD didn't run the ferry business himself. On the Kentucky side of the river, he left operations in the hands of his sons, Philip and William, plus a third guy named Vincent B. Simpson. On the Illinois side of the river, he hired Henry Schuss to

run things for him. Now, remember this was long before our modern infrastructure of highways and bridges, and without bridges, ferries were the only way to cross a river, making them a very lucrative business. And where there's money, there's competition, which brings us back to those roads, because fairies with the best roads were often favored by more travelers. More travelers means more money, so Ford used his political power as sheriff to get the county to maintain the roads.

That led to his ferry business and then paid from his own pocket to maintain them on the Illinois side. Throw in some roadway signs and cards left at saloons advertising his ferry, and it's easy to see how Ford became one of the most successful ferry owners around. But the most traveled road and ferry also meant that it was a favorite of highwaymen and river pirates, and one

such group formed to take advantage of travelers. Locals called them the Ford's Ferry Gang or the cave in Rock Band, although it's fair to note here that the other roads and ferries also had similar attacks. Interestingly, whenever word got out about the robberies and murders happening on his stretch of the road or ferry, sheriff Ford reported that he had found the gangs responsible and had run them out of town. Feeling safer, travelers would resume using the roads

and Ford's ferry. Then the cycle would repeat, more attacks, more reports, and more help from the good sheriff. It looked like Ford had everything. His ferry became a high the profitable business, he had a comfortable life in town, and the citizens valued and respected him his work as a devoted sheriff. Had made their travel safer, or at least so it appeared. James Ford's story unravels like an action novel. It started with two men, Dr. Charles Webb

and his brother John. The pair had set out from Louisville on a flatboat down the Ohio River, accompanied by the captain and three crewmen. While the captain and crew were making their way to New Orleans, Charles and his brother had their sight set on St. Louis. The day was pleasant enough, and the men talked and shared a few drinks. Charles, being an avid flute player, even entertained the men with a song or two. One day on the journey, they spotted a woman standing on the cliff

above a cave entrance. She frantically waved a white cloth to get their attention. The captain pulled close to shore to better hear her. A man exited the cave and addressed the captain. He said the woman and a young boy were traveling together and inquired if the captain had

rations for sale. The captain replied that he did not, so the man instead offered money for passage down the river, and either the captain wasn't aware of such traps or he took pity on the stranded travelers, and so he agreed. The man left to go get the woman and the boy, while the captain and Charles's brother John took the opportunity to go ashore for a few minutes. Charles and one of the crew stayed with the flatboat, though after some time had passed, he left Charles and went to the

cave to see what was taking so long. At sunset, Charles felt relieved when three figures emerged from the cave and headed toward the boat. At the time he realized they weren't the crewmen, though it was too late. The men boarded the flatboat pistols drawn, and warned him that if he made a sound, they would kill him. They bound his hands behind his back and blindfolded him. Minutes later,

the river pirates loaded him onto a skiff. Although he couldn't see or determine what direction they were headed, he heard the man in his skiff whispering to men in another Finally, though, the men stopped rowing, and one of them told him that they were going to let him go against orders, but the man warned it would be best if he continued downstream for a while and without any noise, The man loosened the ropes, and once they left,

Charles worked his hands free and removed his blindfold. They had left him in the middle of the river with no idea where he was or an oar to paddle with. All he could do was drift along with the current. When a cabin came into view, he managed to paddle with his hands to shore. The owners fed him and gave him a real paddle to continue his way to Salem, Kentucky. There he notified officials of the River Pirates, who still

held his brother John captive. They loaned him a horse and sent him to a man named Colonel Love, who might be able to help him find his brother. En route to see him, though, the horse spooked, throwing him off. Now with an injured ankle and no horse, Charles sat down on the roadside wondering what to do next. And that's when a woman happened by, who introduced herself as Cassandra. She listened to his tale and offered to take him

to her family home. They continued their talks after they arrived, and she even took to showing Charles a few of the items that her father had recently acquired for her. Among them was a flute. His flute. Cassandra and her mother admitted that they had suspicions her father was connected to River pirates, but they had never had proof. It appeared that he acted more like a boss than taking part in the River Pirates activities. Over the years that followed,

others became just as suspicious as Ford's own family. You see, many years later, Ford became embroiled in lawsuits, including one involving his Kentucky ferry operator Vincent Simpson, who knew a little bit too much for comfort. So Ford convinced his Illinois ferry operator Henry Schuss to goad Simpson into an argument, presumably as an opportunity to kill the man in self defense. Then one night, as Simpson arrived at Shus's door, someone

shot and killed him. Shuss and his two accomplices were captured and indicted for murder, but one died in prison and the other escaped, leaving just Schoss on his own. At the trial, fifteen people testified for the prosecution and none for the defense, and although Shoes pled not guilty, the case was simple and he was sentenced to death by hanging, which is when he confessed everything to the judge, naming names and implicating certain wealthy and prominent citizens in

the process. The judge promptly received letters threatening his life if he ever made Schusse's confession public, and the judge caved in and never revealed the names or other facts, stating that nothing good could ever come of it, And with that shus was hanged on June nine, eighteen thirty four. Because dead men, as they say, tell no tales. To this day, the facts around Ford's true connection with the Ford Fairy Gang remain a matter of debate. Some historians

and experts point to the lack of evidence. Others believe the legend reflects the truth. But what about Dr Charles Webb? Trust me, I didn't forget him. When we last saw him, Cassandra Ford had taken him in. She shown him a flute, which he quickly recognized as his own, and told her as much well. As the story goes. After his short recovery, Charles left the Ford house with his flute and his life intact. And in case you were wondering, Charles also

located his brother John. It turns out he had also been released. There was no word, however, about the whereabouts of the captain and crew. Susan Ford, James's wife, died in eighteen twenty. Charles kept in contact with Cassandra Ford, though, and married her in eight se becoming Ford's son in law.

James Ford then later remarried two years after that to a woman named Elizabeth Fraser, who gave birth to a son, James Ford Jr. Tragedy finally did catch up with Dr Charles Webb, though, in eighteen forty four, when he died in an explosion aboard a steamboat. Sadly, young James Ford Jr. Had also been on board. Ford's two other sons also died, and while accounts of just how they met their ends very it seems their demise did not occur while looting

or plundering. Ford's end, however, is a little more documented. You see, a couple of days after Vincent Simpson's death, a group of men gathered outside the Ferryman's home. Something had to be done about his murder, they decided. After a brief discussion, three men headed to Ford's house, intending to invite him to an upcoming grand jury. They found him near the Hurricane Creek campground. For it it seems, had heard about their gathering at Simpson's house and was

already on his way to meet them. They all met together at Simpson's house sometime after dark. Everyone took a seat in the main room, and then slowly, one by one, each of the men got up from their chairs, leaving Forward alone. He's sat in the dark that way for a while before one of them returned, holding a piece of paper and a candle. The man handed Forward the letter and promptly stood to one side. He held the candle over Ford's head, illuminating the letters so he could

read it. Now it's hard to say exactly what that letter contained, but the outcome was clear enough. A single shot rang out, and a bullet pierced Forward's heart. The men had put an end to the Ford's ferry gang once and for all. Despite his previous status among the community, few people actually attended Ford's funeral. Only Ford's family and

a couple of their slaves managed to show up. They say, a large clap of thunder shook both the earth and the sky, just as those slaves began to lower the coffin into the grave, and the startled men dropped it. Now wedged haphazardly into the earth, and without a way to write it, everyone in attendance simply filled in the hole with dirt, leaving the head of the casket pointing downward. As they finished their task, someone rem arked that had

almost felt appropriate. James Ford, they said, went to hell head first. I hope it wasn't too much of a shock today to leave the sea behind and explore the shallow waters of rivers and lakes. Clearly, the pirates never seemed to mind. And as we've discovered the stories there are justice thrilling, and thankfully we've tracked down one more river tail to share with you. And if you stick around through this brief sponsor break, my crewmate to Alie Steed,

will tell you all about it. Sadie Ferrell spent her early years in New York's Fourth Ward, near the East River. Gone were the days when George Washington's first presidential mansion resided on Cherry Street. In Sadie's time, mansions sat in disrepair and neglect. The walls had long moved out, poor immigrants and criminals moved in. By eighteen fifty, the police chief estimated approximately fifty gangs had taken up residency, and

around five hundred pirates had invested the waterfront. Like rats, killers and thieves walked the streets at night, slipping into shadows and gin mills to plot and drink their fill. Sadie had lived in the wards since birth, and those who called the night their own were the only life she knew. Throughout the years, she became like them, making her mark as a small time street criminal and hustler with a twist. Most saw thin girl with a small frame.

Looks are deceiving, though for underneath Sadie possessed a mean and particularly vicious spirit. Sadie had a sidekick, a brute of a man she used as her muscle. And while you might be thinking of all the ways these two ran their scheme, you might be as surprised as her victims. Sadie and her companion prayed on patrons leaving the local dive bars. As soon as one staggered out, Sadie took a running start and headbutted them right in the gut.

Before they could catch their breath, her companion jumped into the fright and knocked them unconscious. The bear took everything of value. Sometimes they even took the victim's clothing. The unique method of smuggling earned her the nickname Sadie the Goat. She wasn't the only ruffian working the East Side docks, though Gallus Mag worked as a bouncer at the Hole in the Wall pub in Manhattan on what was then Water Street. The pump's proprietor was a six foot one

armed man with a fierce and unpleasant disposition. Mag's appearance was equally unwelcoming. Her waistband housed a well used pistol, and she kept a large club strapped to her waist. As good as she might be with the pistol, Mag's use of the club on unruly customers was legendary. If the patron continued to be a problem, Mag wrestled them into a headlock and then bit off one of their ears before booting them out of the bar. Mag kept the ars in a jar of alcohol at the back

of the bar. And though Mag kept rowdy pirates and seedie sailors in line, mugging's were permitted as long as the establishment approved of them. Anything else, well, I would have just been rude. Being that the Hole in the Wall was the roughest bar on the roughest street. Naturally, Sadie and her companions worked it. Some say Mag and Sadie were mortal enemies because Mag was English and Sadie was Irish. It might also have been that Sadie didn't

ask permission to mug her patrons. Whatever the cause, Sadie used her signature headbut on Mag. Unfazed, Mag used her club on Sadie. Some say Sadie was out cold. Others say she kept fighting but ultimately ended up out on the street, humiliated and missing an ear. She left after that, working a new territory on the west side of the docks. In the spring of eighteen sixty nine, she came upon

a local street gang attempting to board a sloop. The Charlton gang spent their evenings looting and killing anyone who dared to stray into their territory. This wouldn't be their best night, however, and the crew aboard the sloop easily sent them packing. Sadie approached the gang and offered them a deal. If they'd be her muscle, she'd be their brains. They agreed. Sadie led them on another attack a few days later, this time making off with the sloop and

flying a pirate flag. Captain Sadie and her crew cruised the North and Harlem Rivers and even sailed up to Poughkeepsie. They attacked small shipping vessels. They raided homes, farmhouses, and mansions alike. Even small villages weren't safe. They kidnapped the wealthy for ransom, and they ended up with so much plunder that they took to hiding it throughout the city. Residents soon grew tired of being terrorized and banded together

to ambush the gang, killing several of her crew. Sadie and the surviving members sailed the sloop back to the West Side. The crew quickly disbanded, leaving Sadie no other choice but to return Earn home. She opened a gin mill with the money she plundered and reconciled with mag who fished Sadie's ear out from the jar and returned it. It said. Sadie proudly wore her severed ear in a

locket around her neck. There's not much evidence Sadie's story is real, though she's mentioned in several books, most notably Herbert Asbury's Night The Gangs of New York. It's not clear where Osbury found his sources, but one thing is certain. Sadie the Goat lives on in Pirate folklore. Pirates was executive produced by Aaron Manky and narrated by Aaron Manky and Alexandra Steide. Writing for this season was provided by Michelle Muto, with research by Alexander Steide and Sam Alberty.

Production assistance was provided by Josh Than, Jesse Funk, Alex Williams, and Matt Frederick. To learn more about this and other shows from Grimm and Mild and I Heart Radio, visit grim and Mild dot com