By the time Mike Fink beat Davy Crocket in a shooting contest, he was already famous. He was called the King of Rowers, and you will soon find out why. First we will tell you about his childhood.
Mike was born in the small village of Pittsburgh, which stood on the eastern border of the Wild West, on the frontier, that is. He learned to cut down trees before he cut his second tooth, not to mention archery. He couldn’t say two more words, but he hit the squirrel on the fly with precision.
The milk on his lips had not dried, but he had already started the gun and called it I’ll Shoot Everyone. One day, grown men decided to organize a shooting competition, and little Mike decided to join them. Everyone began to make fun of Mike: go, they say, it’s better to go home to your mother. But Mike resisted, argued and did not want to leave.
“All I have to do is throw the gun on my shoulder,” he boasted, “and I’ll beat you all!”
But the men cackled loudly in response. And this was not some trivial competition. One farmer promised the winners a cow. The first prize was skin and fat, they were valued above all else. The second, third, fourth and fifth are meat. And the sixth one is lead bullets from a target. He could then melt them and cast new ones.
For the right to shoot at a target, everyone paid a quarter of a dollar per shot.
Mike paid one dollar and a quarter, so he paid for five shots.
- The cow will be mine! - he boasted. - And skin, and fat, and meat.
Everyone just grinned. It's time to set up targets. They were cut out of white paper and pasted onto black boards, specially burned for this purpose over a fire. The hole in the very center of the white paper, extending through the board, was the bull's-eye. Only a very good shooter could hit the white field from sixty yards, and only a real champion could hit the apple itself. Everyone was a champion at this competition. Many hit the bull's eye. And there was not a single one who missed the white field around the apple.
Mike was the last to shoot because he was the last to pay. He threw everyone on his shoulder, I'll shoot everyone, took aim and fired.
- Mazila! Didn't even get into white! - everyone roared.
- There's no point in tearing your throats! - Mike snapped. - I hit the bull's eye.
Indeed, they checked and saw that Mike had hit the bull's eye. And not just the bull’s eye, but the very core of it, and they awarded him the cow, or rather the skin and fat, because they considered his shot to be the most accurate.
- I got a ride by accident! - some grumbled,
Then Mike once again raised Let's Shoot Everyone and again hit the very heart of the bull's eye. This time he got a quarter of a beef carcass.
-Who can I bet with for another quarter of beef? - Mike challenged, pouring gunpowder and hammering a bullet into the barrel. I’ll shoot everyone.
“I’m laying a hunting horn with gunpowder so that you won’t succeed, baby!” - someone shouted.
Well, Mike scored another quarter of beef with his next shot. By the end of the competition, Mike had won the entire cow and a hunting horn with gunpowder and a supply of bullets.
Leading the cow home, he smiled contentedly.
-Say thank you for helping you out! - he told the others. “At least you won’t have to carry a quarter of the carcass.” I always shoot to five. Then the prey comes after me... And remember: next time, call me Mr. Fink.
Soon after, Mike was eliminated from all competitions because no one could beat him. The farmers who donated cows as a reward to the winner said that if Mike Fink took the hide and fat without firing a single shot, then at least the meat would be left as a reward for the other shooters.
But Mike became bored without competition in his hometown of Pittsburgh. And he had to look for something new.
Mike had long noticed that the most powerful and powerful were the rowers on the barges and punts that sailed up and down the Ohio and Mississippi between Pittsburgh and New Orleans. Each oarsman had a story to tell about the dangerous life on the water and about battles with Indians and pirates. There were plenty of adventures on the river. And that was all Mike needed to avoid completely wasting away from boredom.
So one day he went to the owner, that is, to the captain of a flat-bottomed barge - or gabara, as it was also called - anchored at the pier.
- I want to hire you as a gabara! - Mike said.
“I only take men,” said the owner. - Men who know how to shoot, fight, row and work with a hook. Only a half-horse, half-crocodile can push a barge with a hook up a river like our Mississippi. And you're still a foal!
Mike didn't object to this. He just took a tin mug from the captain’s table, scooped up water from the river with it and placed it on the top of the head of the sleeping oarsman, who was sitting on the deck, leaning against a barrel. Then he raised up, I’ll shoot everyone, took aim and fired. The tin mug did not move, but from two holes from Mike’s bullets, streams of cold river water poured onto the sleeping man’s head and woke him up.
He jumped up in rage.
“I haven’t known water for six months!” he shouted. - Oh, and I’ll teach the one who dipped me a lesson!
“We’ll see who teaches who a lesson!” Mike yelled back. - Nobody can compete with me. Cuckoo! I will outrun anyone you want, overcome, defeat in open combat and in a shooting competition. I am the first hero in our area. Cuckoo! Come on, try it, you’ll immediately find out what a tough nut I am! If I hit you, I'll hit you with a tree. I'll walk through the trees once with an ax - and here you have a new sunny clearing in the forest. Don't feed me bread, let me fight. For two whole days I had no one to measure my strength with, and my muscles were as stiff as an old chest. Ku-ka-re-ku-u!
-Come on, go to the shore, there’s more space there! - the old oarsman could not bear it.
Their meeting took place in the middle of a wide and dirty street. Mike took off his suede jacket, and the rower took off his red shirt. Then everyone grabbed each other by the neck and began to bend and twist.
- Shall we fight honorably or freely? Mike asked, referring to power moves and roughness.
- Clear, free! How could it be otherwise? - the rower responded.
- This is commendable! - Mike was happy. - That's how I love it! So it will be fun.
And he bit off the tip of the rower's ear.
Then he stepped on his foot, lunged at his stomach with his right hand, grabbed his hair with both hands and pressed the enemy’s face to his knee.
The rower did not remain in debt: he worked with his nails and thrashed with his fists. She and Mike had a death grip on each other, throwing each other from one side of the street to the other. And finally Mike had his moment. He wrapped one paw around his opponent's neck, and with the other he grabbed him by the pants and lifted him into the air. He carried it to the river and threw it into the water.
“You know how to fight like a real man,” the owner praised Mike. -How can you cope with the work?
Mike showed how he could work with an oar and hook, and set off on his first voyage to New Orleans.
So he became a rower and now wore a red shirt, brown trousers, called walnut breeches, a blue jacket and a leather cap with a visor.
Of all the young men who lived on the frontier, the oarsmen were the strongest. And Mike soon proved that he was the strongest among the rowers. He learned many songs about the river, and deafened everyone with his loud voice. Its owner was very lucky: he did not have to spend money on a siren to warn other ships that the gabara was coming. Mike did it even better than any siren.
At night, when the gabara was moored to the shore, Mike liked to dance on solid ground, and often during the day he began to dance on the smooth deck, while the gabara easily moved down the river on its own. He had a keen eye for Indians and river pirates as the ship approached the shore. Mike also learned how to handle sails.
And on the way back from New Orleans up the river, he learned many more sciences. That's when the real work began - work for the heroes, work for the half-horse, half-crocodile. For four long months, Mike and the other rowers battled the mighty current of the river to bring the gabara back to Pittsburgh. It happened to them to sit on the oars. But more often they worked with long hooks, pushing the heavy gabara against the current. And sometimes they “bushed”, that is, they grabbed onto bushes and branches of trees growing along the shore when the gabara swam close, and pulled it up. It happened that we had to climb ashore and pull the ship on ropes.
Mike was among the best at any job - both on the oars, and at the rope, and with the hook. And in the evening he loved to warm up in a friendly fight with his guys or with one of the new friends he met on the shore. And so he became the first rower, and then the helmsman. He could guide the ship through any twists and rapids, and bypass underwater ridges and sandbanks. And finally he became the owner and captain of a flat-bottomed barge and stuck a red feather in his hat.
But one red feather was not enough for Mike. Now, when he met some barge on the river, he challenged its owner to a fight. Of course, he always emerged victorious and, as a reward, took the captain's red feather and stuck it in his hat. Soon, with these feathers, he began to look like an Indian leader. It was then that he received the nickname King of the Rowers.
One day it happened that during the next voyage down the river, Mike ran out of all his supplies midway. His barge was loaded with snuff, and the crew had no choice but to chew snuff. But then on the shore Mike noticed a herd of fat sheep, and it immediately occurred to him that lamb would add a pleasant variety to their menu.
Stealing a few sheep was easy. But Mike hated easy things,
-What's interesting about them? - he said.
So he gave the order to moor to the shore, opened the barrel of snuff and headed straight for the sheep. He gave the poor animals a sniff of tobacco, poked it right in their noses, and when the sheep began to sneeze, cough and run around in fear, Mike sent his man for the farmer who owned the sheep.
The farmer was very surprised when he saw his sheep sneezing, coughing and rubbing their muzzles, darkened by tobacco, on the grass.
“I have to disappoint you,” Mike told him sympathetically. — Five of your sheep are sick. I observed the same picture further up the river. A very dangerous disease, it is called foot and mouth disease. And most importantly, it is very contagious. It's better for you to shoot them to save the whole herd.
The farmer was scared to death. He was ready to do anything to save the herd, but he was overcome by doubts.
-No, there’s no way I’m going to hit the sick people. How can I end up with healthy people instead? No, no one can overcome such a thing! Except for Mike Fink alone. Here Mike Fink modestly interjected:
- Mike Fink is in front of you, it's me!
The deal was this: the farmer gives Mike one healthy sheep if he shoots five sick ones. Then they will be thrown into the river.
Everything turned out as agreed, and, wishing the farmer and his herd all the best, Mike swam on.
Well, of course, when the gabara went down the river and caught up with the sheep, Mike caught them, and that evening his guys had a great feast.
Mike was always looking for something to amuse himself. One day they passed another barge. Her captain was lying on the deck, fast asleep. Mike did not fail to reach him with the paddle and tickle him behind the ear. Thus began another fight, which Mike was asking for.
However, such jokes became too many, and in the end Mike had to face the law. A reward was offered for his capture in Louisville, Kentucky. Needless to say, Mike didn’t want to go to prison at all, but in Louisville he had a police officer he knew, a good friend of his, and Mike thought it would be offensive if he didn’t receive the award. Therefore, Mike agreed with him that he would voluntarily allow himself to be taken to court. Of course, first he made the policeman promise that he would not put him in prison. And one more thing. Mike didn't feel at home anywhere except on his boat. He had to get his friend’s consent that he would only go to court in his carriage.
The day was set. The cop arrested Mike and Mike got on his barge and went to court. And this is how he arranged it: he placed an open platform under the gabara, fastened a team of oxen to it, and the oxen dragged it up the mountain. When Mike arrived in court, the judge immediately opened a case against him, and the policeman received the promised reward. And then he said that he couldn’t provide witnesses against Mike. And the judge had to let Mike go. However, there were too many spectators in the courtroom who failed to appreciate Mike's humor. And they began to demand from the judge that he still send him to prison. Then Mike shouted to his team:
-Get the hooks, guys! Set sail! And they jumped out one after another out the window. And then the gabars climbed on board, untied the oxen and, resting their hooks on the ground, rolled down on wheels straight into the river. From there, Mike waved a handkerchief to Louisville.
Since then, no one on the entire frontier has been able to defeat Mike Fink.
But then one Sunday morning he was defeated, and from whom - from a simple bull. Mike's gabara moored to the shore, and he headed up the tributary in search of a place to swim. Before he had time to take off his clothes and take a dip, suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge bull appeared in front of him.
For some reason Mike didn't want to get into a fight this time. And when the bull moved towards him, Mike jumped to the side. The bull tried to follow him into the water, but immediately returned to the shore angrier than before. Mike picked up his red shirt and began to pull it on. However, in vain. Running past, the bull—one! - and picked up the shirt with his horns. And prepared for a new attack. But then Mike realized that he had to hide somewhere quickly so that the bull wouldn’t get him. He grabbed the bull's tail and hung on it.
So he dangled back and forth, like washed laundry on a line in windy weather. The bull rushed with him throughout the pasture until Mike was completely exhausted. Noticing a thick tree limb hanging over his head, Mike grabbed onto it as he walked and was saved. At least that's what he thought at first. But when he climbed higher, he walked straight into a hornet's nest. Uff, although it was high, I had to jump. And wow, Mike plopped down like a bull on the back!
The bull rose up like a southwest cyclone and rushed straight towards the fence. Having reached her, he stopped dead in his tracks. And Mike, of course, couldn’t stop and flew over the fence. He landed not just anywhere, but precisely in the church garden, and even on Sunday, when people were leaving the church after the service.
Then Mike swore and swore that if this had not happened on Sunday morning, he would certainly have returned and kicked the bull. And then he felt very awkward, finding himself near the church dressed not at all like a Sunday. Indeed, as you remember, he was wearing one red shirt, and that’s all. Therefore, he set off to the river, where his gabara stood, until the parishioners had time to get a good look at him. With all these stories about fights and working on the river, you would think that Mike abandoned his favorite gun, I'll Shoot Everybody. Nothing of the kind. Mike never left him, even on board his ship. And for practice, he shot holes in tin mugs, which he placed on the heads of his rowers.
And it’s good that he practiced, because one day he accidentally encountered a gang of pirates holed up in a place called the Cave-in-the-Rocks. Mike knew that the banks of the Mississippi were teeming with pirates, but he was caught on the river by such a terrible storm that his ship had to land ashore.
The pirates always posted their lookouts to know in advance which barge with which cargo was coming down the river, and therefore Mike's appearance was not a surprise to them. But Mike was not the type to back down in difficult times. With the help of I'll Shoot Everyone, he rid these places of pirates.
And yet, from then on, no one dared to enter the Cave-in-the-Rocks until young Ab Lincoln appeared among the boatmen, driving a barge with valuable cargo along the river. Yes, yes, the same Abraham Lincoln, who later became president and also freed all blacks from slavery.
For a long time, the fame of Mike Fink, half horse and half crocodile, thundered across Mississippi and Ohio, but times are changing. The houses on the shore were now crowded so close to each other that there was no more than six or seven miles of free space between them. And the river itself no longer seemed like a border. Civilization was advancing, and he felt uncomfortable about it.
And then something happened that was completely impossible to resist. Barges appeared on the river, which went up and down the river with the help of steam - a steam engine. And the need for half-crocodiles, half-horses disappeared. When he saw the steamer, Mike flew into a terrible rage. And how the ship whistled! I really wanted to say: get out of the way, boatmen!
But Mike didn't give up. One day, on the Mississippi, they met a steamboat going up the river and Mike's boat, sailing down. Someone had to give way, otherwise a collision could not be avoided.
The helmsman asks Mike what to do,
“I’ll drive the barge myself!” - Mike shouts and stands at the helm. - Hey, you are there on the ship, in front of you is the first braggart and loudmouth from the great Mississippi! - Mike yells, - Hero - tail like a pipe! Coo-coo! Wild horse, cross-eyed crocodile. Half and half! And a little more from the red biting turtle. And the rest is made up of dry twigs and thorns. Hey you there, make couples, don’t run, try it out, what a tough nut I am! Come on, don't torture my patience! My hands are itching. Ku-ka-re-ku-u!
The helmsman sees that the huge steamer has already grown above their barge itself, and again asks Mike what to do.
“Sink it!” shouts Mike, casting fierce glances at the ship.
Finally, the ship's pilot notices Mike and gives signal after signal to warn of the danger. And Mike tells him in his thunderous voice to get out while he’s still alive.
Then there is a terrible blow and the crack of breaking wood. Half of Mike's team ends up in the water, and his ship immediately sinks because the load on it was too heavy. When the gabara sank, Mike shouted to his guys to swim to the shore. Coming out of the water, he shook himself off, and then sank to the ground and looked at the river with indignation. Yes, he lost. It did not even bring him joy to observe with what difficulty the steamer with a huge hole in its side climbed up the river.
After sitting there, Mike stood up and said:
- I'm leaving the river! I always said that I would leave if I lost the battle. I am moving further to the West, now there is a border. There are fewer people there and they have not yet invented all the fumes, smoke and clanging machines that do not allow a person to live in peace. It's time to leave!
And, throwing Everyone I’ll Shoot on his shoulder, Mike went to Missouri, where the main fur buyers had gathered, and went straight to them.
There, Mike and I'll Shoot Everybody also quickly became famous, just as it was in Mississippi and Pittsburgh in those days when they were still on the frontier.
And so far no one has managed to overtake him, shout him down, overpower him, jump over him, outwit him and out-shoot him... - if only one could say so - shoot him. No one living on either side of the great river with its tributaries from Pittsburgh to New Orleans and again to St. Louis and further to the West. Cuckoo!
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru