A FALSE ALARM--THE OX-CART TRIP TO FLORIDA--THE SEPARATION--RUBE
LOCATED AT BROXTON FERRY--HIS ESCAPE.
Rube and Joe, on their return to Lamar County, found their lair closely
beset by detectives. They found shelter, however, for some two weeks,
spending the nights in the barn-loft of Allen Burrow, one of the men
standing watch while the other slept.
On the 26th of October, 1889, the following telegram was received by an
official of the Southern Express Company from Sheriff Morris, of Blount
County, Alabama: “A posse in charge of one of my deputies attempted
to arrest two men, armed with pistols and Winchesters, fifteen miles
from Oneonta, Ala., yesterday. They killed two of the posse and wounded
five. Am positive the men were Rube Burrow and Joe Jackson.”
Repairing to Blount County, with blood-hounds and detectives, it was
soon ascertained by the express officials that the men were not Burrow
and Jackson, but two “moonshiners,” who had shot and wounded a revenue
officer at Blockton, Ala., about ten days prior to the date of the
attack by the sheriff’s posse.
Correspondents representing several prominent southern journals hied
themselves to Blount County to gather the details of another tragic
chapter in the history of Rube Burrow, and one enterprising scribe,
fresh from the field of carnage in Blount County, went into Lamar
County, bent on an interview with the famous bandit. This was the
handsome and gifted Barrett, of the Atlanta _Constitution_. Arriving
at Allen Burrow’s, in company with Jim Cash, the young journalist made
known the object of his visit.
The detectives having gone on a false trail to Blount County, Rube and
Joe were at that time in old man Burrow’s barn-loft, and when Allen
Burrow took Barrett’s horse thither he revealed to Rube the proposition
of the correspondent to interview him. Rube declined, saying he knew
the paper would publish a description of him, and he did not want that
done. Mr. Barrett, however, sent a very elaborate report of an alleged
interview to the _Constitution_, which, as a faithful historian, the
author is compelled to state never took place.
A crowning sensation in American journalism was reached when the
_Age-Herald_, of Birmingham, chartered a special train to enable it
to place upon the breakfast tables of Atlanta the daring exploits of
Rube in Blount County, and the Atlanta _Constitution_ responded by
chartering a like train to distribute at Birmingham an interview with
the famous bandit while he was supposed to sit under the very vine and
fig tree of the _Age-Herald_, but, as a matter of fact, was engaged
in combing the hayseed out of his hair after a night’s lodging in his
father’s barn.
As soon as the Blount County sensation had exploded, the detectives of
the Southern Express Company returned to Lamar County, and an incessant
watch was kept upon the houses of Allen Burrow, Jim Cash, and others.
Detectives disguised as peddlers of books, lightning rods, and nursery
stock, and others assuming the simple guise of tramps, sold their wares
in the one case, and begged bread in the other, from house to house,
all over Lamar County, and until Allen Burrow said one day to Rube:
“I believe there is a detective under every bush in the county; you had
better leave.”
Rube concluded his father was right, and on the twentieth day of
November, just about a month after their arrival, Rube and Joe left
Lamar County again. The two men went afoot to within a few miles of
Columbus, Miss., having resolved to walk into Florida and avoid the
necessity of hiding out in the brush all winter in Lamar County.
Joe Jackson was not as robust as Rube, and was not physically equal to
the task of walking several hundred miles. He proposed, after trudging
about eighteen miles, to return to Lamar County, purchase horses, and
make the trip on horseback. Rube dissented, fearing their trail would
be discovered and that pursuit would ensue, but suggested that they
return to the home of Jim Cash and purchase a yoke of oxen and a wagon
owned by him and make the trip in that way. Joe Jackson was averse
to this proposition at first, but Rube argued that as drivers of an
ox-cart they could assume the role of laborers and thus fully disguise
themselves. Returning, therefore, to Cash’s house, the oxen and cart
were purchased.
It was the custom of Allen Burrow and Cash to make frequent trips by
wagon across the country to Columbus, Miss., and so it was arranged
for Allen Burrow to take the two men, in a covered wagon drawn by
two horses, to within one mile of Columbus. Jim Cash, according to
arrangement, followed with the ox team, and in the outskirts of the
town, after dark, on the night of November 28th, the four men met.
Through the intervention of Cash an ample supply of provisions,
purchased from a store in Columbus, was stored away in the wagon,
and at ten o’clock at night the outlaws, in the garb of plodding
ox-drivers, resumed their journey southward. Cash and Burrow returned
home the next day, the former announcing that he had sold his ox team
in Columbus.
The detectives were not long in discovering, by the bearing and manner
of the friends of the outlaws, that they had left Lamar County.
Detective Jackson, knowing the habits and methods of Rube, was not
satisfied with Cash’s story that he had sold his oxen in Columbus.
Investigation developed nothing to corroborate the reported sale, and
Detective Jackson declared: “We must find that team, for it’s just like
Rube to give us the slip that way.”
Going to Columbus, the faithful detective, day by day, sought
diligently to discover the missing team, but it was not until about
January 15th that his labors were rewarded in finding the trail near
Carrollton, in Pickens County, Miss., forty miles south of Columbus.
The detective was on foot. The outlaws were then forty-five days ahead
of him, and were evidently heading for southern Alabama or Florida.
Returning and reporting the discovery, it was deemed best to go by
rail to Wilson’s Station, on the Louisville and Nashville Railway, and
thence to Gainestown, a landing on the Alabama River, about forty miles
distant, where it was thought the men would cross. The conclusion had
been wisely made. The cunning detective had shrewdly divined the very
spot at which the robbers would cross the river.
Arriving at Gainestown January 24th, Jackson found that the ox-cart, in
charge of two men, had crossed the river on the night of December 11th.
Encouraged by this discovery the officer pursued the trail on through
Escambia County, and found that on the evening of December 14th the two
men had driven into Flomaton, Ala., a small station on the Louisville
and Nashville Railway, forty miles north of Pensacola. Here it was
discovered that the men had camped about half a mile from the station,
and had made inquiries concerning a logging camp in Santa Rosa County,
Florida.
Leaving Flomaton on the morning of January 29th, Detective Jackson
went to McCurdy’s ferry, on the Escambia River, two miles south, and
there ascertained that a man calling himself Ward had crossed the
ferry with an ox team on the morning of December 15th, and that he was
alone. Pursuing the trail south some twenty miles, Milton, Florida, was
reached. Here it was found that one man had crossed Blackwater with an
ox team at that point on the night of December 17th. The belief that
Joe Jackson had separated from Rube at Flomaton was confirmed, for the
man in charge of the ox team was, beyond question, Rube Burrow.
Leaving Milton, the detective went to Broxton’s ferry, on Yellow River,
about ten miles south. Arriving at the ferry he was confronted by a
stream about thirty yards wide, whose tortuous length stretched itself
through a jungle of cane and cypress which seemed to defy his further
progress. There was no boat in sight, and the unbroken wild-wood on the
opposite bank gave no sign of a mooring. The screech of an owl from
his perch in the dark cover of the jungle broke the stillness that
prevailed, and awakened the detective from his lonely reverie.
Jackson learned from a man, who came stalking through the brush at
this juncture, that the opposite bank was that of an island, and in
order to reach the south side of the river the point of the island must
be turned by rowing about half a mile down stream and then stemming
the current for a like distance along the opposite shore. While the
distance across the island from shore to shore was only about five
hundred yards, the view was wholly obscured by the canebrake that
covered it.
By shrewd questioning, Jackson found that Rube, under the name of Ward,
was engaged in hauling feed from the landing on the opposite shore to
Allen’s log camp, about eighteen miles away, and at that very hour
he was loading for his return trip on the south bank of the river.
Broxton, the ferryman, had, unfortunately, gone to Milton with the only
boat used at the ferry, and it was impossible to cross the river that
day.
It was ascertained that Rube’s practice was to leave the log camp
about seven o’clock in the morning, reach the ferry about two in the
afternoon, and after loading repair to the house of Broxton, the
ferryman, where he would spend the night, and making an early start
on the succeeding day arrive at the camp in the afternoon. It had,
therefore, been his practice to reach the ferry landing on Yellow River
every alternate day.
Jackson, being unable to cross the river, returned to Milton on
February 4th, and sent the following telegram to an official of the
Southern Express Company: “I expect to secure title to tract number
one, about ten miles south of here, Wednesday, February 6th. The papers
are all in good shape.”
Rube Burrow had always been designated in correspondence between the
officers and detectives as number one, and the telegram therefore meant
that Jackson had located his man, that his plans were in good shape,
and the capture would be made at the hour and place designated.
At four o’clock on the morning of February 6th Jackson was joined at
Milton by the express officials, to whom the details of the situation
were given. At an early hour the start for Broxton’s ferry was made in
a hack, Jackson having selected four reliable men from Milton to assist
him. The party reached the ferry landing on the north bank of the
river about eleven o’clock A. M., and after some difficulty a boat was
secured and a landing on the south shore was effected.
It had been determined at first to continue the journey beyond the
river and capture Rube in the road, but on reaching the south landing
the surroundings seemed so advantageous that it was decided to await
his arrival at the ferry. The roadway, after leaving the south bank of
the river a few miles, wends its course through a sparsely timbered
pine forest. It is very straight, and persons traversing it from
opposite directions could see each other for miles. It was therefore
feared that Rube, ever on the alert, might take the alarm at sight of
the posse. On the contrary, at the ferry all seemed propitious. There
was moored the boat which contained the camp supplies to be loaded
into Rube’s cart with his own hands. It seemed a very trap, baited
and set in the certain pathway of some beast whose lair had just been
discovered, and here it was agreed to quietly await the hour of his
coming. The exit from the landing where the boat was moored was a
narrow corduroy road that debouched from the water’s edge, through
overhanging boughs and vines, for some three hundred yards, to the foot
of a hill, and, curving to the south, shut out all further view from
the river. On either side of the road, approaching the landing, were
the fallen trunks of huge cypress trees, which afforded a splendid
cover for the posse.
At the hour of noon, with the ferryman sitting not thirty paces
distant, so as to watch the road and give the signal when the cart
should appear in sight, the posse went into ambush and anxiously
awaited Rube’s arrival. He had never been later than two o’clock in
reaching the ferry. It had been arranged that upon his arrival, and
immediately upon his halting his team, all six of the posse would
cover him with their breech-loading shotguns, and Detective Jackson
should order the bandit to surrender; and if he failed to do so, the
discharge of Jackson’s gun would be a signal for the rest of the posse
to fire.
Every alternate day for five weeks Rube had arrived at this spot
between two and three o’clock P. M. The presence of the posse at the
ferry was known to no one save the ferryman, and he was kept under
careful surveillance. The capture of the outlaw seemed absolutely
certain.
As the silent hours rolled by the detectives watched with bated breath
for the signal from the ferryman. In the awful stillness that prevailed
the ticking of the watches that marked the passing hours could be
heard. Two o’clock, three o’clock, four o’clock came, and yet the
crack of the ox-driver’s whip, the longed-for music of the “gee-whoa,”
which, on Rube’s coming, were wont to disturb the solitude of this
wild retreat, were heard not. Finally, at five o clock, after another
hour of anxious waiting had passed, a colored laborer in the log camp
from which Rube was expected, appeared. He was questioned as to the
whereabouts of Ward, the name assumed by Burrow, and answered that one
of his oxen was sick; that he had not started at eleven o’clock, and
would probably not come until next day. This was a sore disappointment.
The camp could not be reached until long after dark. The outlaw
might start at any hour, and the posse might miss him in some of the
many by-roads that intervened the long distance. It was concluded,
therefore, to remain on watch at the ferry, hoping that he might still
arrive before night.
With the slowly sinking sun sank the hopes of the anxious officers, who
felt that the cover of night would bring some untoward event to mar the
plans which had been arranged for the capture. Darkness came, but the
silent watch was continued. Broxton, the ferryman, lived about one mile
from the ferry, and immediately on the road along which Rube had to
travel. It was now quite certain if Rube should arrive he would spend
the night at Broxton’s and reach the ferry next morning. Ascertaining
that there was a vacant house a few hundred yards beyond the house of
the ferryman, and only a few feet from the road, it was determined best
to remove the posse to this building and watch there during the night.
About seven o’clock the posse started from the river, giving orders to
the driver of the hack not to follow until time had been allowed the
advance guard to reach the ferryman’s house. This order was, however,
disobeyed, and just as the detectives approached the house, and when
only about three hundred yards distant, Rube drove up to the gate and
inquired of Mrs. Broxton the whereabouts of her husband.
The woman answered: “He has been at the river all day with a party of
hunters.”
Rube, ever on the _qui vive_, gathered his Marlin rifle from his cart,
saying: “I’ll go down and see Mr. Broxton.”
Walking towards the ferry about fifty yards he heard strange voices,
saw the hack, and intuitively knew that he himself was the game the
hunters were after. Like a deer he bounded into the forest and was lost
to his pursuers.
A guard was placed over the team which Rube had left as a trophy to his
would-be captors, in the hope that the owner would return to confirm
his doubts, if he had any, but Rube took the safe side, ran no risk,
and did not return.
Rube set out at once for the log camp, arriving there about midnight.
Arousing the cook, he bade him prepare supper, which he ate with
great relish, while he recounted a story of thrilling adventure with
highwaymen, in which he had luckily escaped with his life. Supplying
himself with a goodly store of provisions from the camp’s larder, the
outlaw about three o’clock A. M. said good-bye to his comrades, and
went forth into the solitude of the forest, consoling himself with the
reflection that he had again outwitted the detectives.
There are those who would doubtless have managed the affair at
Broxton’s Ferry, on the eventful evening of February 6th, differently,
perhaps successfully, but fortunately for Rube they were not present.
The ox team was taken to Milton and sold for the sum of $80.
Detective Jackson, undaunted by the luckless result of the chase,
equipped himself for a tour through the swamps of Santa Rosa, and,
leaving him in pursuit, the rest of the party turned their faces
homeward.
As an example of the unparalleled audacity of the noted train robber
it may here be recorded that a few weeks afterward he endeavored to
recover the value of the oxen and cart by executing a bill of sale
therefor to one Charles Wells. The latter demanded the property, but
it is needless to say he did not succeed in obtaining it. The express
officials notified the would-be purchaser that the outfit had been
sold, and that the title of the party to whom sold would be defended
against any and all claimants.