Sounds remarkably like 16 year old Betsy Dowdy’s 50 mile ride across Currituck in North Carolina, on her wiry little Banks pony, Black Bess, to which she sang to encourage her to keep going. December, 1775.
Excerpt from “The Legend Of Betsy Dowdy”
Joe Dowdy and old man Sammy Jarvis lived on the “banks” opposite Knotts Island. They were near neighbors and intimate friends. Early in December, 1775, Jarvis went over to the “main” to hear news of Colonel Howe’s movements toward Great Bridge. When he returned home, late in the evening, he was greatly excited. He was impressed with the dangerous situation of the dwellers by the sea. He was constantly saying, “Dunmore and them blamed Britishers will come down the coast from Norfolk and steal all our Banks pony stock, and burn our houses, ding ‘em.” After a short rest and a hasty bite of supper, old man Jarvis went over to Dowdy’s to tell him the news.
Dowdy was a wrecker for the money that was in it, and a fisher for the food that was in it. He had grown rich by wrecking. We was always watching the sea. He was a devout man, always prayed for the safety of the poor sailor, who was exposed to the perils of the deep, and always closed with a silent supplication that if there should be a wreck, it might be on the Carrituck beach. He has prospered in the business of a wrecker, had saved many lives, and much wreckage and money. His visible store of chattels was beef cattle and banker ponies. He herded them by the hundred. Sammy Jarvis came in without ceremony, and was cordially received. “Well, Uncle Sammy,” said Dowdy, “what are the news; tell us all.” “Well, Joseph,” said Jarvis, “things are fogerty, Gregory, Colonel Isaac is hurrying up his Camden milish to join Howe, and Thomas Benbury, of Chowan, is pushing on his wagons of commissaries. If they don’t reach Great Bridge in time to bear a hand in the fight, they’ll hurry on to Norfolk and drive Dunmore out of the old town. But if Dunmore beats our folks at Great Bridge, then our goose is cooked, and our property all gone, all the gold and goods saved in our hard life work, and all our cattle and marsh ponies.” “You don’t tell me so,” said Dowdy. “Yes, it’s so, just as sure as Old Tom. (Thomas Benbury, of Chowan County) The only thing that can save us is General William Skinner, of Perquimans, and the militia, and he is too far away. We can’t get word to him in time.”
As Jarvis said these words slowly and with emphasis, Betsy Dowdy, Joe Dowdy’s young and pretty daughter, who was present with the family, said: “Uncle Sammy, do you say the Britishers will come and steal away all of our ponies?” “Yes,” said he. She replied, “I’d knock ‘em in the head with a conch shell first.” Betsy soon left the room. She went out to the herding pen and Black Bess was not there. She went to the marsh and called aloud “Bess! Bessie! Black Beauty.” The pretty pony heard the old familiar voice and came to the call. Besty took her by her silken mane, led her to the shelter, went into the house, brought out a blanket and also a small pouch of coin. She placed the blanket on the round back of the pony, sprang into the soft seat, and galloped over the hills and far away on her perilous journey. Down the beach she went, Black Bess doing her accustomed work. She reached the point opposite Church’s Island, dashed into the shallow ford of Currituck Sound, and reached the shore of the Island. On they sped, Black Bess gaining new impulse from every kind of gentle word from her rider.
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